Bookishly Jewish

I’m a little late on my review of The Lost Ryu by Emi Watanabe Cohen, because when the package arrived it was promptly stolen by a friend. Apparently she’s got a thing for dragons. And frankly who doesn’t? The majestic fire breathers are delightful in any shape or form, which is why readers will immediately understand why main character Kohei is so sad that large dragons, or Ryu, disappeared right around the time of World War II.

Kohei’s interest in dragons is not purely nostalgic. While small Ryu, like Kohei’s own personal dragon, still exist, the larger ones are nowhere to be found. Yet somehow Kohei still remembers them, and this memory is the last time in which he saw his grandfather smile. When grandfather’s health takes a turn for the worse, Kohei is convinced that solving the mystery of lost Ryu will help heal him.

Joining Kohei on this mission is his new neighbor, Isolde recently arrived from America. The pair team up and devise a plan to hatch a new dragon, jointly parented by Kohei’s Ryu and Isolde’s Ryu – a yiddish speaking dragon. For Isolde, the existence of an East-West dragon (these are the words used by the dragons in the book to describe the new hatchling) represents confirmation that she herself is not alone in being part Jewish and part Japanese.

As expected, things do not go according to plan. Kohei uncovers some heavy hitting truth about his father, his family, the War, and his own tricky memories. As this unfolds I was reminded of how malleable my own childhood memories are. How I cherry pick the ones I care to hold onto. How this is sometimes a gift.

As the story wraps up the reader is left with a greater understanding of World War II (albeit with dragons) in a way that is still appropriate for younger readers. Grump certainly enjoyed it. As for me? I was sold the moment the Yiddish speaking dragon appeared.

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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.

A common writing exercise is to rewrite the same exact scene several times, each from a different viewpoint. By flipping the POV character, the writer is forced to look at the world through a different lens. To pick out the details that would otherwise go unnoticed. In Rachel Lynn Solomon’s latest YA romance, See You Yesterday, we have a variation on this theme. The viewpoint character, Barrett Bloom, does not change. Instead, she relives her first day of college over and over in a time loop, taking the reader deeper and deeper into the story.

Now, as far as first days go, Barrett’s is a total disaster. I literally sobbed in relief when I realized this quirky, sarcastic, lovable freshman was about to get a second chance. Especially when it is revealed that the only other person stuck in time is Miles – a physics student who instantly won me over with his science puns. (The same can’t be said for him and Barrett. This is definitely not a story of love at first sight).

As Miles and Barrett try to find a solution to their time loop dilemma by researching in the library (Miles’s idea) and living life to its fullest (Barrett’s idea) we learn more about Barrett’s past and why college is so crucial to her. I won’t spoil it, but if you are like me and have a difficult time processing sex being used as a weapon to shame women – there may be a few pages you want to skip. Solomon handles this plot point deftly and the story feels both real and raw.

Miles, on the other hand, turns out to be much more than just a physics nerd (although let’s face it, that is my favorite about him). He is the son of a physics professor and a Jewish studies professor and is fiercely proud of both parts of his heritage. In fact, he finds a way for Barrett to celebrate Shabbat despite the fact that they are perpetually stuck repeating a weekday. Perhaps in the most Jewish thing ever, the Shabbat scene is a pivotal moment in Miles and Barrett’s relationship.

The banter between Miles and Barrett is glorious, but my favorite part about their relationship is the fact that Solomon has allowed her characters to have realistic bodies. Barrett navigates some insecurity surrounding her weight and Miles has ears that take some time to love. But it doesn’t matter. Because time is literally unlimited for these two.

As usual, the book is a masterclass in craft. It not only shows the development of romance over time, it also spirals down into every single nook, cranny, character and plot point that occurred in this one single day and milks them for they are worth. There is no stone left un-turned, no relationship unexamined, and in a delightful moment – no puppy left un-adopted. My heart was bursting and my smile wide when I clicked through to the last page (at one am, because I couldn’t go to sleep until I finished).

Note: I received an e-arc from the author because she was kindly allowing Jewish reviewers to request them through her social media

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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.

When I was single, and in my twenties, I used to keep a mental *shopping list* of the attributes I hoped to find in my ideal partner. My friends and I used to discuss our individual shopping lists; the longer we stayed single, I decided that realistically some of the items on my list could be re-ordered or even eliminated. But some of the people I know were sticklers and did not want to change the order of the attributes they were seeking; they actually stayed single for several more years!

In Jean Meltzer’s latest novel, Mr. Perfect on Paper, releasing in August, heroine Dara Rabinowitz also has a shopping list — in her case, a checklist — for what she is seeking in “The Perfect Jewish Husband.” As creator and CEO of the very popular Jewish dating app J-Mate, Dara is a third-generation matchmaker who has had great success in creating matches for countless young people worldwide. She has helped others but hasn’t found anyone to call her own. In truth, she hasn’t made a great enough effort to even look.

But that might soon change. Dara and her beloved bubbe, also a successful matchmaker, go on the TV show “Good News New York” to talk about matchmaking and J-Mate, and while talking, her grandmother happily reveals Dara’s criteria for the ideal Jewish mate. Outed on national TV, Dara simply wants to hide away forever.

But that episode proves to be very popular with host and news anchor Chris Steadfast and his audience. He and his production team get permission — albeit reluctant — from Dara to try to help her find her love match, then follow and film her as she goes on dates. TV ratings are everything, after all.

As Chris and Dara become friends while on a mission to find Dara her bashert, the non-Jewish single father and widower can’t help but recognize his attraction to her. And vice versa. But he doesn’t meet her criteria, and both he and she know it.

This book also features GAD, an acronym that was new to me. It stands for General Anxiety Disorder. Successful, wealthy, organized,  heroine Dara suffers from GAD, and the reader learns about its symptoms and Dara’s ways of handling this disorder.

Join Chris, Dara, her bubbe Miriam, along with Bubbe’s buddies aka the ChallahBack Girls, and others in “Mr. Perfect on Paper” as they look for love, fun, a sense of belonging, calm, understanding and acceptance. You will laugh, you will cry, you will smile, you will cheer from the sidelines.

Note: The reviewer received an arc from the author’s agent

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Before I was an adult, I had a very specific type when it came to books. There had to be romance, there should be at least a little danger and mystery, and major bonus points if the fae were involved. Luckily, I grew up during the book world shaped in part by Tamora Pierce. So, finding all of those things at once in a YA book wasn’t hard.

As an adult, I’ve found myself falling to book slump after book slump. I get stuck in ruts where I can only listen to audiobooks of contemporary romance and everything else feels too hard. (After all, what if there’s not an HEA at the end? The world is too hard as it is!) Inevitably, I rely on a good ole fantasy book to retrieve me from the depths of the book groove I’ve worn myself into.

My ARC of Inked by Rachel Rener came at a perfect time. This book is doing a LOT all at once and I think it does it all pretty well. It’s part romance (with steamy, explicit scenes), part PNR cozy mystery, and part contemporary portal fantasy.

Talia is an art school drop out with a needle phobia—which is sort of a plot point and a shtick because she’s also now a tattoo artist. Which is where we find her when the story opens: tattooing a large snake on the back of a biker. It’s all going swell until she runs out of ink and dips into her missing boss’s forbidden stash. Surprise: the stash turns out to be magic and the snake comes to life, nearly ending her and her client’s lives.

This sets her off on a magical quest with a talking parrot sidekick (Biscuit!) through the fae world. Let’s focus on the Jewish of it all.

Talia is a secular Jew with a stereotypical Jewish mother. This is the part of the book I disliked the most. Her mother drops constant Yiddishisms and is always panicking. Now, I know this will ring true for some folks. For me, a person who was raised quite near to where Inked takes place as a secular Jew, it was a bit heavy-handed. 

“But all you two did was yell at each other!” 

“That’s just how Jewish people say ‘I love you.’”

Though I enjoyed other moments of explicit, slightly-over-the-top Jewish imagery when it wasn’t about her mother, like:

“I settled myself onto the foot of Zayn’s bed, eyes glued to the flickering lines of symbols and runes that definitely hadn’t been there before [it] lit up like a Hanukkah bush at the Zuckerberg mansion.”

And Talia’s identity felt real to me. She uses her own Jewish culture and context to understand the new magical world around her. And Rener uses those moments to explain more about Judaism to the (potentially not-Jewish) reader.

“The placement reminded me of a Jewish mezuzah, a religious decoration nailed inside the door frame to protect one’s home.”

Finally, I have a hair trigger for antisemitism and there were several moments I found myself holding my breath in concern for how certain aspects were going to be handled. The biggest was Talia’s “gold blood.” Even the phrase “gold blood” set off alarm bells in my head. Ultimately, while the book is premised on blood magic, it’s done carefully enough that I found myself enjoying the plot and breathing easier.

All in all, Inked was a fast-paced fun read that kept many different plates spinning in the air. I’ll be pre-ordering book 2.

I received an advance copy through BookSirens and am voluntarily writing this review.

Content notes: explicit sex, blood magic, overbearing Jewish mother, needles, violence

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A pirate, A Rabbi and a Santero walk into a club. Sound like a bad joke? Possibly. But it is also the start of an excellent book. Daniel José Older’s YA fantasy, Ballad & Dagger, follows the exiled fictional community of Little Madrigal as it tries to reestablish itself in Brooklyn after the island of Madrigal sinks. As a fellow denizen of Brooklyn, I found myself wishing that Little Madrigal was real. Because an island nation founded by a Sephardic Rabbi, a Santero and a pirate who all happened to wash up on the same shores together sounds like my idea of a good time.

The reader views the community through the eyes of Matteo Matisse, an insider that feels like an outside thanks to his frequent trips abroad with his physician parents and the healthy dose of skepticism gifted to him by his parents reliance on science over the traditional community magic and lore. All of that is thrown into doubt when Matteo, currently living with his Aunt – a staunch Santero and community leader – finds out he is way more involved in community matters than he thought he was. And that this places his life in considerable danger.

As an aspiring musician, Matteo has always experienced the community through the music he shares. As the book progresses Matteo also himself opens up to the various other parts of Madrigal culture. And let me tell you, Madrigal culture is nothing to be sneezed at. Combining pirate, Santero and Sephardic Jewish traditions, this is a whirlwind tour of identity and intersectionality, both communal and personal. It was incredibly moving to watch Matteo finally take his place within this framework.

On a personal note, when Matteo receives praise for his rendition of “Aneinu” I found myself clutching the book with white knuckled hands and singing the familiar melody to myself. A family favorite, we are all singing this song for weeks after the high holidays and I would have loved to hear Matteo’s version.

The richness with which this world is described, as well as the care taken during Matteo’s journey to find his true purpose in it, is exemplary. It was so gripping that I would have been content even if the book had no plot. Although readers can rest assured, the book is chock full of plot. Including secret pirate cabals, a scheme to raise the fallen island, mistaken identity and magical creatures.

The beauty of Judaism to me has always been encapsulated in the phrase “we contain multitudes”, Parts of this book, especially when Matteo teams up with the Rabbi’s daughter Chela, felt so incredibly familiar. Others were completely new. They were all equally vivid and rewarding. This is the kind of book that entertains while it broadens horizons. I eagerly await the next installment.

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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.

Casey Breton’s middle grade novel Going Rogue (At Hebrew School) introduces Avery Green, a young Star Wars fanatic who hates boring, illogical Hebrew school. He’s quite startled when a new interim rabbi, Rabbi Bob, shows up and asks the kids to explain God–through understanding the Force and other Star Wars trivia. At the rabbi’s prompting, Avery explains, “The Force is a mystical energy that flows through all living things and binds everything in the galaxy together…Everyone has the Force in them, but some people feel it more strongly. Those are the ones selected to become Jedi.” The rabbi nods. “Now I’d like you to say the exact same thing, but instead of the Force, say God” (35). 

Of course, this incredibly extended metaphor can help kids connect with the spiritual through their love of fandom. A great deal of trivia and fandom is thrown in. Further, the rabbi has an office of Star Wars mementos including a real lightsaber…and it’s red. A mystery evolves as Avery wonders, is this rabbi really a Sith? 

Avery Green is a lively young hero who enjoys inventing terrible smells and longs to play football. As he struggles with one-way and two-way friendships, he explores the Jewish values of visiting the sick–even someone he dislikes. He’s trying to understand his place in the world with all his conflicting responsibilities, and he gets a satisfying emotional journey. Bullying and defending the bullied become important, and the book does a good job giving Avery agency appropriate for his age. With all this, this book is sympathetic to the struggles young teens have and great for superfans, of course. It’s a fun book that explores the joys of Star Wars fandom and its importance in young people’s lives contrasted with the dullness of organized religion.

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Middle Graders deserve books full of joy, humor and silliness, but they also deserve to read books that grapple with the most difficult aspects of life head on. I knew from the very first page of Repairing the World that this is a fearless book of the heart. It wasn’t just that I related to Daisy and Ruby. I have my own kids around this age, so I loved the characters right away. I also felt a deep connection to the world of this story. Likely because I’ve experienced grief that comes from loss,  or because I grew up in a Jewish tradition much like what takes place in the story, the writing feels so authentic.  From the internal pondering to the external dialogue, I found myself absolutely immersed. I couldn’t stop reading.

It can be so challenging for anyone, especially for kids coming of age to deal with  grief, with the concept of unimaginable loss and then “Life After…” but this novel does it with a deep and authentic sense of honesty, openness, and the right amount of tension. 

Even as the novel dives squarely into the loss, pain, transitions, and wanderings, it also moves into what it means—not to simply “move on” but to discover what Tikkun Olam really is, to repair the world by being open to discovery, relationships, and embracing life in a bigger way. 

Throughout all of these high concepts, Epstein lets the reader experience it all through humor, hope, and truth. From intergenerational relationships, new friends, and new experiences, the reader will find themselves engaged in the ways in which Daisy’s world grows bigger, as she walks through real grief, and finds courage, faith, and new hope.  A great story for Middle Graders, but also for readers of any age. This is a book that deserves to be in homes, classrooms, and libraries everywhere.  All the stars for this wonderful and important Middle Grade Debut! 

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My general advice to anyone writing a fantasy is to iron out their magic system before beginning. Which is why I find it hilarious that the characters in Uncommon Charm, a gothic comedy co-written by Emily Bergslien and Kat Weaver, are attempting to do just that. And they go about it in a manner so delightfully hilarious that the poignant part of the novella practically snuck up on me, leaving me completely unguarded and entirely open to its emotional impact.

The story is told from the viewpoint of Julia, a happily magic-less sixteen-year-old, that has been expelled from school for nebulous reasons that appear to include a tiff with her girlfriend. Her Jewish half cousin Simon has recently been acknowledged by the family thanks to the manifestation of his magic and he has come to study with Julia’s mother, England’s foremost magician.

The banter is fast and furious as Julia leads Simon through roaring 20’s posh society, including his father’s white Russian family. Simon, as quiet as Julia is gregarious, can see ghosts and is quickly enlisted by Julia to help unravel some family mysteries. What they find is so well foreshadowed that it will not come as a shock to readers, but the aftermath still managed to hit me like a sucker punch in the best of ways. This is not a book with easy answers, but it also not a book that unnecessarily tortures its queers.

By the end of the book I was still as confused about the laws of magic as I was at the beginning, but I was no longer worried about its purpose. Julia’s mother has spent a lifetime honing her magic, despite a family and government that will never thank her for it, and when her reasoning is revealed it heals the relationship between mother and child. Simon, who was seriously considering a Rabbinical career before all this magic nonsense interfered, is set up to inherit her legacy. There is no doubt he will uphold it with integrity.

Did half the oh-so-smart conversational fodder go right over my head? Maybe. Were my favorite characters the moms? Of course they were. Did I whip out my roaring twenties inspired headband for the photo on bottom of this review? Indubitably. Bergslien and Weaver must posses some kind of magic their own because this novella, which I read in half a day, broke my reading slump. I look forward to their next offering!

Note: I received an e-arc from one of the authors because she suspected I would enjoy it. I did.

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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.

The Bible is many things to many people. For the teachers and children that attended dual curriculum Hebrew/English schools, it is a literal accounting of the history of the Jewish people. Which means teaching that humanity spoke one language until they built a giant tower, the tower of Babel, in an attempt to rebel against God. There is a nice moral there, about how being unable to communicate peaceably was the worst possible punishment God could give, but also a hilarious bunch of questions.

Did people really think they could build a tower that reached all the way to God? What about oxygen? Altitude sickness? Where would the food come from? I can not help but think the whole venture seemed rather foolish. The Giant Robots of Babel by Maxwell Bauman embraces this hilarity. Leaning into the impossibility of it all, this retelling shares the story through the eyes of angel named Zephon that has come to stop the construction, and the human outcast named Eber that helps him.

Eber and Zephon encounter many light-hearted anachronisms in their journey, including giant mecha Gods powered by angel blood and piloted by human children plus one notable member of the tower’s janitorial staff, who is perhaps the true hero of the story. Eber’s son Peleg also serves a means of comic relief by inserting himself into the action at the worst times and talking like a walking comic book.

The story took the most ridiculous parts of the old story and found a way, through science fantasy, to make them plausible. It was quick and easy reading, especially for a fan of Bible retellings. My one complaint is that since we are playing fast and loose with the constraints of the text it would have been nice to have a role for women other than evil seductress witch and overbearing mother that is largely off-page. We got enough of that in the original version.

I’d love to see more stories like this one. Stories that breathe life into lesser known Bible tales by viewing them through a different lens. Mashing the modern and the traditional. To me, the Bible will always be the story of our people, whether you choose to take it literally or not.

Note: I received a free e-copy of this book from the publisher in the hopes I might review it.

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.

Sherry V. Ostroff’s debut novel combines history, romance, suspense, and Jewish representation. Caledonia encompasses the history of Jews escaping the Spanish Inquisition. A small community establishes themselves in Scotland—of all places! The added intrigue of a modern-day woman—sort of floundering in her world of loss and mystery—suddenly connecting with her 17th century Jewish ancestor, reeled me in. Throw in a couple of Highlanders and I was hooked!

Ostroff has done extensive research for this novel, but imparts the knowledge with great skill and creativity. The historical fiction is based on the true story of the unsuccessful attempt by the Kingdom of Scotland to establish a colony on the isthmus of Panama in the late 1690s. I had never studied or heard of such events; nevertheless, I found Caledonia to be a compelling read. As the story unfolds, Ostroff cleverly weaves a tale of two women, each with her own particular story to tell, but mysteriously linked together by an ancient key that has been stored away for generations. We follow Hannah, the modern-day protagonist, and her predecessor, Anna, as they struggle to find their happiness and their place in the world.

The author paints a highly descriptive picture to emphasize the lengths which one will go, not only to survive, but to thrive. Every decision one makes has the potential to be life altering. The very powerful instinct to survive might only be surpassed by the human need to be remembered…to endure. I find this to be a common thread in Jewish themes. The choices made by Anna’s father in the 17th century, or those made by Hannah’s father in the 21st, had dire consequences and their daughters paid a hefty price. These patriarchs based their actions on personal integrity, with faith that their efforts were for the good. Hannah might not have agreed. Anna might not have agreed. But when these women—separated by over 300 years—are faced with making their own choices, do they respond by rejecting all that is meaningful to them or do they fight the good fight? What would we do in the same circumstance?  That is the essence of a great historical fiction! I leave it to the reader to pick up a copy and decide for themselves. 

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