Every child has THAT book. The book they keep shoving at their parents, over and over again, begging for a reading. Typically said book is reserved for bedtime bribery. Sometimes it is hidden to preserve parental sanity. My personal favorite is when an older sibling is paid to read THE BOOK to the little sibling. Yet there is one book that I will happily read each and every time. That book is Here is the World written by Leslea Newman and Illustrated by Susan Gal.

From the cover picture of a happy family romping near a tree to the descriptions of each holiday, this book fills me with nostalgia. Perhaps it is because the curly haired mom favors dresses and boots like me. Perhaps it is the inclusion of even minor holidays like Tu B’shvat, which I delight in celebrating. Or maybe it is the depiction of a baby naming ceremony for a little girl. Maybe it’s all of those things put together. All I know is reading this book, with a small person cuddled onto my lap, feels like coming home to a warm bowl of soup and a snugly afghan.

The text is a simple primer to Jewish holidays for children and adults alike. No prior knowledge is necessary, but for those who do already celebrate these days it can be a way to open a discussion on family traditions. Talk about holidays you enjoy. Find the activities that are meaningful for your family. Use the pages as a stepping stone on your journey, not an end point.

Observance, and family, can come in many different flavors. This book is appropriate for them all. To the point where I have actually volunteered to read it for the umpteenth time to a child looking for a story.

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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.

My journey to Jewish observance, like so many others’, has been a winding path of distance and proximity. Alienated by my fathers’ Conservadox upbringing that taught I wasn’t a Jew because my mother was Irish Catholic, I felt uncomfortable owning the identity myself. Then again, as a queer, trans adult, I couldn’t imagine a Judaism that had space for me. But I’ve always been a spiritual person, a “seeker.” I wanted to belong to something, to have something of my own. 

I’m also a chronically ill person that has reached the point where I’m willing to try anything at least once in the hopes that it will lead to some small reprieve from the pain. So, “jewitchery” was the first Jewish space that felt like it might be my own. I was drawn to the idea of tracking time by the moon, of wandering through plant life and knowing each plant’s secret name, of healing myself with something western medicine had long forsaken. (A note here: I take my meds and thoroughly believe in science – these things do not need to be at odds with one another.)

So, even now that I’m comfortable and firm in my Jewish identity and observance, when the debut of Ashkenazi Herbalism was announced, I felt a thrill. The book promised medicinal plant knowledge from a lineage that I could arguably claim as my own, or at least closely adjacent to my own.

The book is broken up into three sections. Section one is an overview of both Ashkenazim and Ashkenazi healer history. It feels rich and healing all on its own. Especially for someone who has been on the outskirts of Jewish knowledge for so long, reading through the short histories of early Jewish pharmacies and physicians, the ba’alei shem (Kabbalists and healers who traveled to rid people of afflictions), midwives, and so much more, felt like kneeling at the feet of a bubbe I’ve never had and being told stories of our heritage. 

The second section is the Materia Medica, which includes 26 plants that were known to and used by Jewish healers that lived within the Pale of Settlement between the two World Wars. Each plant has a simple black and white illustration (done by Deatra Cohen), the name of the plant in English and most European languages Ashkenasim speak (including Hebrew, Polish, Russian, and Yiddish), and the uses of the plant during different time periods. 

The final section is a brief afterword that gives credit to previous works of collected herbalism, notes the difficulty of collecting information that was often intentionally destroyed due to antisemitism, and outlines the method of data collection for this book. What follows the afterword are two appendices about history, and a bibliography to make nonfiction lovers’ to-read piles weep.

The authors, Deatra Cohen and Adam Siegel are librarians and put immense care into both the research conducted and the accessible presentation of information. While they are careful to inform readers that the plant entries are meant to be historical reference and not a practical guide, the book did leave me feeling empowered to seek out how herbalism might be more present in my own Jewish practice. 

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Writers of Young Adult sci fi are some of the most resilient people I know. Over and over we are told by traditional publishing that our genre is dead. Over and over we point to the fact that you can’t call a thing dead when 1) you refuse to purchase or market it and 2) marginalized writers haven’t been given a chance to publish it. Instead of believing in the self fulfilling doom and gloom prophecy (ironic, since dystopia is well within our wheelhouse) we soldier on writing books and exploring themes that can only be fully realized through the lens of sci fi.

Jamie Krakover’s Tracker220 is an example of such a book. Set in a future in which neural implants allow unlimited, immediate, access to the internet and tech, while also allowing the government unlimited access to our brain functions, this story asks so many important questions. How much intrusion into our personal data are we willing to sacrifice for faster tech? Why should unfettered access to our data be the stipulation required for web based services? How much should we allow tech to encroach on our personal space? And most dear to my heart – how do we reconcile all of this electronic plethora with observance of Shabbat, a time when Jews are meant to unplug and focus on the people around them and our connection to God?

These questions are already being raised by current modes of social media and personal computing but by speeding up the timeline and placing the computers into our very brains, Krakover allows the reader to contemplate what the end game is for all of the devices we regularly use and take for granted. The protagonist, Kaya, is not an orthodox Jew. She’s never had a tech free Shabbat, although her father extolls their virtue as he recalls the days before Tracker220 technology was forced on the population. In fact, she views the secret society attempting to take down Tracker tech as terrorists. Until her very own tracker begins to malfunction, showing her just how limited the promise of “unlimited freedom” the authorities purport her Tracker affords her, truly is.

The story is full of suspense and cool motorbike chases, along with a dash of romance and familial bonds, but at its core this is a story about modern technology, personal choice and how far is too far when it comes to tech. It is a question universally faced across all age groups, but especially by teens who are faced by a barrage of social media choices and pressured to use them to stay in touch with their peers. I am glad this story is there for them, that much like Kaya the author did not allow traditional authority to dictate her choices, because it is much needed.

Note – I received a copy of this book from the author, no strings attached, MONTHS before I even conceived of the idea of BookishlyJewish, because she knows how much I like sci fi and she is a generous person.

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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.

I make no bones about the fact that I rarely write or read horror. It comes up in almost every conversation I have about being an SFF writer, because horror is often lumped in with SFF. I simply tell people I’m a delicate flower and move on, because I don’t want to get into a heavy discourse about the real reasons I have so much difficulty with the genre. Reasons that are inherently linked to my being a Jew.

As a child I was steeped in generational trauma – I had to clean my plate because my grandparents starved in the Holocaust, almost every holiday we celebrated featured someone trying to annihilate our entire people and the words Pogrom, Cossack, Inquisition, and nazi were far more familiar to me than the vocabulary I was supposed to be studying for the SAT. It’s even worse for kids today. With the advent of social media, and the platform it provides for anonymous racism and antisemitism, a thirteen-year-old can’t even post a video of himself laying tefillin without getting by hundreds of comments declaring he should have been sent to the gas chambers. Nope, there is enough horror in my real life. I don’t often seek to add more.

The Jewish Book of Horror, edited by Josh Schlossberg, changed some of that for me. In it there are stories ranging from the times of The Bible all the way to modern suburbia, each featuring their own version of what is considered horror, all tied together by the single thread of having been written by a Jew about Jewish topics. Unlike the usual horror offerings, I found these tales to be representative of a larger movement happening within the horror community of today. Marginalized writers are taking back the genre, using it to confront some of their own demons and show the world the horrors they personally experience. Instead of making me feel nauseous and sick, these stories inform and empower.

As mentioned, the level of gore ranges from the mildly creepy underpinnings of a normal society (The 38th Funeral by Marc Morgenstern, In the Red by Mike Marcus), to biblical stories explained (Ba’alat Ov by Brenda Tolian) to all out zombie apocalypse (How to Build a Sukkah at the End of the World by Lindsey King-Miller). Some contained familiar creatures from Jewish myth (The Rabbi’s Wife by Simon Rosenberg is a Golem story, Bar Mitzvah Lessons by Stewart Gisser features the Satan itself as a character ), while others utilized some of the sweeter bits of Jewish lore I’ve ever heard and turned them on their head (Forty Days Before Birth by Colleen Halupa revolves around the legend that a persons marital partner is decreed forty days prior to their birth). Others were downright gleeful (Demon Hunter Vashti by Henry Herz made me laugh out loud as did The Hanukkult of Taco WIsdom by Margret Treiber).

Horror is meant to offer a safe exploration of thoughts and ideas that are other to the reader, a way to delve into the depths of our nightmares and expose them to the light so that we might learn and grow as a society. As with any exploration, it should only be undertaken with the express permission of the reader. Therefore, If you find Holocaust narrative a difficulty topic (I do, there’s no shame in that) then you may wish to skip The Horse Leech Has Two Maws by Michael Picco which adds an additional layer of abomination upon a time when Jews were already subjected to horrors the likes of which no author has ever manage to replicate in fiction. It is interesting to note that the main character in this tale is in fact not Jewish. Instead he has been consigned to the camps for being a gay man. I appreciated this reminder that when one marginalized community falls the rest are sure to follow. Similarly, Elana Gomel’s Bread and Salt details what happens when Jews attempt to return to their ancestral homes after a war. Spoiler alert – they are not greeted with flowers and hugs.

Anyone that finds rape triggering may elect to skip John Baltisberger’s Eighth Night, which contains some references to sexual assault by demon. Those who have struggled with obtaining a Jewish divorce – a get – might find The Divorce From God by Rami Ungar to hit too close to home, although the twist at the end is not what you are expecting. The Hand of Fire by Daniel Braum revolves around a potential nuclear Holocaust involving Israel that may also be too real or anxiety provoking for some readers. And in content warnings people are not expecting, but I feel to my very core, if you are they type of Jew that worries about divine retribution for every single mistake you ever make in ritual observance then Phinehas the Zealot by Ethan K. Lee is not the story for you.

I was deeply disturbed, in the best possible way, by K.D. Casey’s story The Last Plague in which there is a modern day persecution of Jews. Same as Yesterday by Alter S Reiss filled me with a nostalgia only Catskill’s going, bungalow colony dwellers will ever truly understand (the line about the knish truck slayed me). The Wisdom of Solomon by Ken Goldman and Welcome Death by J.D. Blackrose both felt like modern day fairy tales. Not the Disney version, but the dark lush pieces The Brothers Grimm used to write.

There are stories here to entertain while they terrify- On Seas of Blood and Salt by Richard Dansky has a pirate Rabbi and a A Purim Story by Emily Ruth Verona is a clever take on parenting and Mazzik’s. There are stories here to make you pause – I’ll never look at the taslich ritual quite the same way now that I’ve read Vivian Kasley’s Catch and Release. In short, there are stories here for everyone. They key, as with all horror, is to find the ones that help you delve to the depths of your soul without losing your mind.

-This anthology featured an open call for stories, a process I believe helps improve equity in publishing –

Note- I received a reviewers e-book in exchange for an honest review.

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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.

One of the greatest joys of founding BookishlyJewish has been the way this blog pushes me to read new genres of Jewish literature, including contemporary romance. So for the sixth night of Hanukkah, I am giving interested readers the gift of Roz Alexander and the “Hot for the Holidays” series, a set of queer Jewish holiday romances that also includes the tiny niches of butch/femme and butch for butch.

Matzoh Match, the first book in the series, takes place over Passover and follows Sam, a newly single lesbian nursing a broken heart after her ex left her in one of the most bizarre ways possible (not going to spoil it, but when the backstory comes out I think you’ll agree it is pretty wild). Sam is hosting her first solo seder and her best friend decides to play matchmaker and bring along a blind date for Sam – without informing her. To make matters even more mortifying for poor Sam the blind date just so happens to be Jordan, the extremely hot butch she has been not-so-secretly ogling at the grocery store.

***The following paragraph is NOT SAFE FOR WORK, but then again, neither is the book***

Sam and Jordan have instant chemistry, and they are both undeniably hot for each other, but it takes them two seders, a whole lot of wine and a few false starts to finally get things going. When they do, the payoff is excellent. This book contains a fair amount of sex, so if that isn’t your thing just skip over those bits, but it would be a shame to do so. Because, as stated in the forward, Judaism is a sex positive religion and this is a sex positive book.

*** end of NSFW content ***

On a more personal note, I’ve never been to an inclusive seder and it was a lot of fun reading about them and the different traditions incorporated by the seder hosts. Although the idea of having 3 seders, as Sam does in this book, is giving me a hang over.

Verdict? If you’re into high heat queer romance, this one’s for you.

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From the very first email I had with the author, I knew Sorry For Your Loss was going to be a bit quirky. I had requested some materials about the book and Joanne Levy’s response email was titled “the worst possible title for an email”. Because honestly, nobody wants an email titled “sorry for your loss” sitting in their inbox. This thoughtful hilarity surrounding death and mourning customs was as good a hint as any as to what I would find in this MG novel about a girl who works in a Jewish funeral home and the newly orphaned boy she meets on the job. 

My favorite part of Judaism is our life cycle events. The bris or kiddush to mark a new birth. The bnei mitzvahs. The weddings. Unfortunately, those celebrations of life come hand in hand with our traditions surrounding death – fast burial followed by seven days of sitting shiva for the mourners and the unveiling of the headstone a year later. Even as a kid, I’d been to my fair share of shivas. It felt strangely grown up to take my dutiful place among the comforters sitting with the mourners and bringing them food. But that’s how Judaism rolls. Our kids are full participants.

Recently, I sat shiva myself. Having ritual observance to fall back on was helpful during a time when I was trying to find my footing in a world that was both unequivocally changed and shockingly the same all at once 

That is the paradox that Evie, our aspiring junior funeral director, faces when she agrees to spend time with Oren, a recently orphaned boy whose parents funeral has taken place at her parents funeral home. Oren seems so much like a regular boy as they hang out and do regular kid stuff that it is easy to forget his parents have just died. Until something reminds them both of why he is there. Because grief has a way of sneaking up on people. 

For his part, Oren puts up with Evie’s endless chattering with the gratefulness unique to someone who has no desire to fill the silence with their own words. Through his interactions with Evie as they sneak around the funeral home and work on art projects, the author shows that the recently bereaved have a unique insight to offer and that sometimes those comforting the mourners are the true beneficiaries. 

Caring for the dead is often referred to as “Chessed Shel Emet”, the only true good dead one can do in this life, because it comes without ulterior motives. The dead cannot repay us. We cannot ask them for favors or expect recompense. We care for them simply because it is the right thing to do. The human thing. And this story is unequivocally human. While it handles death and grief with a light touch appropriate for middle graders it was also an enjoyable read for this  adult. 

Note: I received a free reviewer e-copy of this book in the hopes that I would review it, but no strings were attached.

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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.

I write fairly often about how being Jewish impact my life, but never is it more apparent than in the days after Thanksgiving. Christmas messaging is now unfurling its way across the country and the hashtag #JustSayXMas makes a regular appearance on my social media feed. Yet never in my community did I doubt that when someone wished me a ‘Happy Holiday’ they meant Hanukkah. Which is why I was excited to read Love All Year 2021 an anthology featuring non-christian holidays.

Holidays are a time for family but also a time for reflection, when we think about our heritage, the traditions passed down to us, and the legacy we want to leave for future generations. It is a kind of thoughtfulness that you wouldn’t typically expect in a romance, the grand fate of ones people can be a bit of a mood dampener, but every single story in this anthology skirts that line easily. These stories are rooted in culture and sensitivity. Love grows because the pairs featured participate in these holidays together, honoring age old traditions while incorporating modern twists.

Speaking of growth, one of the two Jewish stories, The Koufax Curse by KD Casey, is a queer Tu B’shvat story. The New Year of the trees is one of my favorite holidays, but I have never held a Tu B’shvat seder quite like the one experienced by the pro ball players in this story. Let us just say Manischewitz makes a significant appearance. The second Jewish story, Spiraling Closer, by Elsie Marrone, features the Jewish High Holidays in a pandemic and kicks off with our heroine accidentally lobbing a piece of bread smack into the face of our soon to be love interest during Tashlich. It is both hilarious and poignant, a testament to the confusing times we live in right now.

While the other stories are not Jewish, I still highly recommend checking them out. I had never heard of Durga Puja until I read Soumi Roy’s fake dating story, A Tangled Truce, yet the vivid descriptions made it come to life for me. Another holiday I have never had the privilege of experiencing first hand is Black Love Day, featured in October Rhea’s bisexual Heart and History, the story of two art teachers finding community, and each other, in Harlem.

Several of my friends celebrate lunar New Year and Jasmine Luck’s story of love found through cooking lessons, Yes Chef, has me itching to email them for some recipes. Kosoko Jackson’s story, Kwanaza Kiss, employs one of my favorite tropes – time limited adventure/challenge – to bring its two protagonists closer. It also has a voice to die for. Seriously, I read this one twice for the craft alone.

I’m probably not supposed to pick favorites, but I will anyway, Hudson Lin’s Their Dragon Boat Featuring an enby leader of a dragon boat team and the OBGYN brought in as a last minute replacement for one of their paddlers before a dragon boat festival regatta, this is exactly the kind of story that makes readers go weak in the knees. Plus the medical aspects of the protagonists job were actually fairly accurate!

As I prepare to light my menorah tonight, I find it fitting that I spent some time getting to know other cultures and holidays. Living in a Christian dominated country it can sometimes feel like outside of our little isolated cultural enclaves nobody else appreciates our holidays. This anthology, with such a diverse representation of holidays, as well as romantic orientations, proves that is not true. We exist, we are here, and just like the candles on a menorah we shine brightest when we are together.

Note: I received a reviewer e-copy of this book from one of the authors after I expressed interest in reading it. No string were attached.

This anthology included an open call for submissions, a process which I believe improves equity in publishing.

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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.

As a senior, Rachel wants nothing more than to enjoy her final year of high school by hanging out with friends, going to football games, and even to successfully complete her schoolwork, as she prepares to apply to college for the coming fall. Rachel is surrounded by a loving family and a wonderful group of friends but when her Zaide (grandfather) dies and when she begins to experience strange visions, her “typical” senior year becomes far from typical. Throughout the passing months, Rachel begins to feel that there is something deeper within herself that she is meant to tap into.

Although her family is secularly Jewish now, Rachel’s mother and mother’s father, her Zaide (grandfather) practiced Orthodox Judaism. Despite Rachel’s secular upbringing, she finds herself attending high holidays services at a local Orthodox synagogue. It is there that she meets a stranger, Yonatan, who reminds her of her Zaide and who becomes an important mentor to her, teaching her to connect to her God-given gifts. As their relationship develops, Rachel, too develops a greater understanding of what it means to be part of the Jewish people and how by growing into her own gifts, she can be of the highest service to others. Amdst these deep questions, Rachel works to balance being a “normal” teenager with her growing, mystical experiences.

In The  Prophetess a young adult fantasy novel, author Evonne Marzouk does a great job, balancing the many aspects of Rachel’s life. We read about the challenges Rachel experiences as a teenager with her parents, sister and friends. Marzouk craftily introduces many critical issues that teenagers deal with today including: insecurity, bullying, eating disorders, and addiction. One specific issue that feels especially timely is the inclusion of Rachel’s friend, Maya, whose mother is a Jewish convert born in the Philippines. Maya is teased because of her dual identity. As the good friend that she is, Rachel helps Maya deal with this insensitive bullying. Marzouk deftly handles all of these topics with thoughtfulness and yet, they are not too heavy, so as to detract from the main message of the book. Throughout the novel, we see Rachel learning to listen more closely to her gifts; thereby, better able to address those critical issues described above, by using her gifts to help those around her.

As a parent reading this young adult novel, a point that gave me pause relates to Rachel’s initial secrecy as she takes more interest in Jewish tradition and in her mystical training with Yonatan. While I acknowledge the reality that many teenagers feel the need for secrecy, especially when they are exploring new or different areas of interest, I wished that Rachel had felt more initially accepted and less judged by her family but that is me speaking as a parent, not me who probably would have been just as secretive as a teenager.

I found the book to be an enjoyable, deep read, providing much food for thought. Rachel’s character is real, honest, and vulnerable—all qualities that are needed to grow one’s own gifts. Kudos to Evonne Marzouk for writing such an engaging, thought-provoking young adult novel.

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Amy Grossblatt Pessah is a rabbi, author, spiritual director and mom. Serving various communities and demographics across the country, Amy has been a Jewish educator for over thirty years, with a specialization in Jewish Family Education. She received her Master’s degree in Jewish education from HUC-JIR and her semicha from Aleph: Alliance for Jewish Renewal. She lives in Florida with her husband and together they are the proud parents of three young adults. Follow her on instagram @parenting_on_a_prayer.  To learn more about Amy, visit: https://www.asoulfuljourney.com 

A lot of parenting books focus on sleep-training and toddler eating, but few focus on the parenting journey from birth through the teen years. Parenting on a Prayer: Ancient Jewish Secrets for Raising Modern Children is one of those rare parenting books that can provide wisdom at all stages of the parenting journey.

Written by Rabbi and Jewish educator Amy Grossblatt Pessah, the book is structured around eighteen traditional Jewish prayers.  For each prayer, the author provides anecdotes and wisdom around a specific theme of parenting.  For example, after a description of the prayer Mi Chamocha (Who is like You), the book teaches Empowerment in parenting. For Shema (Listen), the anecdotes focus on Love.

When I first began reading Parenting on a Prayer, I wasn’t sure I would have derived the same lessons from the prayers that the author did. But the book’s anecdotes and lessons were so meaningful and open-hearted about the parenting journey that I stopped caring about whether each theme fit its prayer exactly as I understood it.  My understanding about Jewish prayers can admittedly be a bit rigid; both those who are familiar and those who are less familiar with the Jewish prayers might find new and enriching meaning in the Jewish liturgy from the interpretations provided here.

Reading this book, I re-remembered the great balance of parenthood: giving children space to grow into their own selves, while also letting them know we are fully available to them.  Early on, the author reflects on the important of names as demonstrated in the Ma Tovu prayer: “Your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel.”  The parenting lesson recognizes that though we give our children names, how and what they are called will grow and evolve with them throughout their lives.

Children’s growth and development is part of a healthy and natural process, even when they sometimes grow in a way we as parents wouldn’t have expected or chosen. This theme continues through many sections of the book. For example, when the author’s daughter at age 12 asked to change her room (in the section on Boundaries), her mother had to be willing to let go of the beautiful fairies decorating the walls. When her son didn’t see Judaism the same way as his mother (in the section on G-d), she told him she loved him and always would – despite their differing views.

That said, I also really appreciated how the author offered chapters that enable parents to teach their children about their own values, for example, having compassion for creation (Words Matter), or seeing G-d’s hand in life (Trust), or inculcating children in family traditions (Family).

What I appreciated most of all about this book was the friendly voice of a mother who’s been there in the struggle and honestly reports out her best efforts – both successes and failures – from the trenches. More even that the specific lessons, the stories from this book reminded me of moments in my own childhood or motherhood journey, and so often I was touched to discover my experiences were not unique. Sometimes as parents we’re afraid to share the messy parts, but hearing some of another’s journey and knowing that I am not alone was a gift.

Parenting on a Prayer can offer previews of coming attractions to new parents, but it also shines as a companion for parents who have been at this for a while.  It offers the comforting wisdom: The struggle is real. Other parents have experienced similar.  You will get through this. And it provides a framework and ideas for how to survive the experience with some grace and dignity – and raise kids who thrive.

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Everyone knows I’m a sucker for sci fi and a recently converted romance devotee, so it felt right to kick off my Hanukkah posts with Nessa Claugh’s alien fake dating Hannukah romance Meteors and Menorahs. Yes your read that correctly. Alien. Fake dating. Hannukah romance.  Forget interfaith, we’re going full on inter species in this holiday romcom. 

This trope-tastic story follows Leah, a thirty something anesthesiologist as she convinces her colleague and secret crush Kenneth to be her fake date for Hanukkah so she can get her family, and her ex-boyfriend, off her back. It also contains about a million and one fun romance tropes. Alien romance? That’s kind of the premise. Fake dating? Check. Evil ex boyfriend? His name is David and he’s the literal worst. Only one bed? Most definitely. There’s even a bonus sexy sunscreen application scene. 

My one criticism comes when the book leans too heavily into one of the many fun tropes it uses: aliens failing to understand human behavior. In his job as a physical therapist working with disabled humans Kenneth swings a bit ableist. It’s a minor point, covered in a few paragraphs, but I wish our alien friend was given the chance to grow and more fully understand this human experience. Similarly there are a couple of lines that disappointed me as a religious person and I few I suspect will disapoint queer readers. They can easily be deleted without affecting plot or character development and the story would be more friendly to diverse readers from all backgrounds. 

This is a high heat book with some fun alien anatomy thrown in too (is that a trope? If it’s not, it should be.) Definitely not safe for work.

Overall, this was a quick read full of good food and fun. Easily devoured in one sitting much the same way Kenneth inhales sufganiyot. 

Note – I received a free e-copy of this book through BookSprout in exchange for an honest review.

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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.