Aviva Vs. The Dybbuk

When I review a book, I typically dive into the pieces of the plot that I identified with or the character traits and experiences that mirror my own. It’s what people have come to expect from BookishlyJewish. I’m going to do something different with my review of Aviva vs. The Dybbuk. Today, I’m going to flip over the book and discuss the author photo first.

Is this bizarre? Maybe. But I hope you’ll bear with me, because that photo let me know in one instant that I was going to love these pages. The author is rocking a shell and a sheitel. She wrote her dedication, to her parents, in lyrical Hebrew. It’s OK if you don’t know what some of the words I’m using mean. Very few people do. The point is, this was a book written by someone who either grew up ultra orthodox or lives in such a community now. The story reflects that upbringing and those values, and traditional publishing actually picked it up. HUZZAH!

There is no question in my mind that this story will hold up next to any mass market book. The narrative, about a girl named Aviva who lives with her mother above the community ritual baths after the death of her father in an antisemitic attack, is poignant and heartwarming. It has all the necessary plot beats for a strong emotional character arc. We watch Aviva deal with her mothers depression, feeling alienated from her classmates and even her struggles with the mischievous Dybbuk (Jewish spirit) that lives in the ritual baths. We immediately bond with this girl for whom school is “kind of not my thing.” A lonely outcast that loves sports and her mother.

All of this is great, but what hooked me, was that Aviva has her adventures in the setting of a very traditional orthodox girls school and community. When there is a sport mentioned it is not football or lacrosse. It’s Machanayim (yes, orthodox schools have a lot of made up sports with funky names including gaga and belts too!). Aviva and her nemesis must plan a females only Bat Mitzvah Bash not a co-ed prom or homecoming. And most importantly, her community is always, always there for her.

Judaism is not meant to be practiced alone. It is a religion of community. No one Jew can complete every mitzvah in the Torah – it is literally impossible, as some are for priests, others for Kings and yet still others are exclusively for women. This is presumed to be by design – God’s way of showing us that we are intended to survive together. To exist as a unit, constantly seeking to aid and assist one another. When Aviva and her mother struggle, there was never a doubt in my mind that the community would lift them up. In an unexpected touch, when the community itself is faced with antisemitism they are bolstered by members of other marginalized groups.

I read this book over the course of one Shabbat day. The words and setting and tone were as familiar to me as the air I breathe. It contained all the good in my childhood laid out for the world to see and appreciate. The Dybukk turned out not to be what I was expecting, but I didn’t very much care. The story was more than enough. It was exceptional.

I want more of this type of representation in publishing. Authors should be free to use the words and experiences of their own communities, not just in the MG space but also in YA and adult books. I would read it forever. Because, as Aviva would say, “it’s kind of my thing”.

Note: I received an arc of this book from the publisher after I asked for a reviewer copy.

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E Broderick is a writer and speculative fiction enthusiast. When not writing she enjoys epic games of trivial pursuit and baking. She currently lives in the U.S. but is eagerly awaiting the day a sentient spaceship offers to take her traveling around the galaxy.