The Assignment

by: Liza Wiemer

Delacorte Press, August 2020

336 pages

Review by: Valerie Estelle Frankel

THE ASSIGNMENT by Liza Weimer has echoes of The Wave, the famous real-life story in which a history teacher started a Nazilike cult as a demonstration, but for a new generation. It also resonates with stories like Dear White People, which emphasize how blindness to racist activities easily get out of hand. As such, it’s a valuable teaching tool for students and instructors alike. 

“Are we supposed to pretend we’re Nazis?” the book opens, as appalled student Logan considers their assignment. Indeed, the teens are all supposed to pretend they’re at the Wannsee Conference, debating pros and cons of the Final Solution. Some of the students are instantly disgusted: There is no pro-genocide moral position, and no decent person should argue it. No assignment should allow for the possibility that the Nazis were right or normalize their ideology. Other students in the room are already snickering and sketching Nazi symbols. The teacher insists that the lesson has historical merit and that he in no way encourages students to believe in Nazi ideology. With this, the conflict is established. 

Best friends Logan and Cade complain to the teacher, then the principal. The teacher counters them by agreeing that the assignment is immoral but insisting the school is a safe place to learn to combat racism. As he adds “You find genocide offensive? Good! This assignment should make you uncomfortable. Life is often uncomfortable” (59). However, Cade protests that the assignment fuels intolerance. As the football players joke with Nazi salutes, he can see what the teacher cannot. There are no Jews at the school, but the gay kid in the class is shrinking into himself in torment.  Chapters begin with mostly Logan and Cade’s point of view and expand outward until their teacher is finally sharing his own perspective. Other students are traumatized by the discrimination the assignment provokes and get a chance to tell their stories. 

The principal too dismisses their concerns, considering the assignment reasonable and their protests an overstepping of their position as students. As the authorities dismiss student concerns instead of acknowledging that the assignment is getting out of hand, community anger snowballs and the teachers find they can no longer contain it. Many modern genocides and moments of discrimination are mentioned, emphasizing the universal threat of condoning racism. There’s a lesson here in understanding that minorities often have a different awareness of what is harmful that those in authority don’t see. Listening is the key to ending the harm. 

The conflict is also made personal: Logan recalls a beloved Jewish neighbor, while Cade thinks of his grandfather, who risked his life to save a neighbor in Poland. As he soon discovers, the family story is more complicated and affects him deeply. Further, Logan takes Cade to the Fort Ontario Safe Haven Museum to learn about Italian refugees who came over postwar. With a polished presentation and writeup, the teens politely propose this story as an alternate assignment. Still, few students decline the original debate. Frustrated, the teens take their concern to the anti-discrimination organization Humanity for Peace and Justice, and their representative, when ignored, speaks to the newspapers. The story goes viral, with a spectrum of comments reproduced in the book. As such, it models how to respond to such assignments, on large and small levels. The book ends with an overview of the real-life incident that provoked this book, resources, and discussion questions. In a world where so many questionable assignments are being forced on students, lacking consideration of how teens will feel defending slavery or colonialism, everyone should read this. 

Valerie Estelle Frankel is the author of over 80 books on pop culture, including Hunting for Meaning in The Mandalorian; Inside the Captain Marvel Film; and Star Wars Meets the Eras of Feminism. Her Chelm for the Holidays (2019) was a PJ Library book, and now she’s the editor of Jewish Science Fiction and Fantasy, publishing an academic series for Lexington Press. Book one, Jewish Science Fiction and Fantasy through 1945, has just arrived. Once a lecturer at San Jose State University, she now teaches at Mission College and San Jose City College and speaks often at conferences. Come explore her research at www.vefrankel.com

The Last Words We Said

by: Leah Scheier

Simon and Schuster, August 2021

320 pages

Review by: E Broderick

There’s something inexplicably sweet about growing up female in an Orthodox Jewish community. The women’s singing and baking groups, the close knit families, the ability to unabashedly call your friend “the girls” as if you are the heroine of a Nancy Drew novel. Yet orthodox life can also be challenging, full of rules that restrict your behavior and limit your options. At times it can feel like a society full of clucking tongues “who only want the best for you” are hemming you in with their judgements and their love. It is this delicate push and pull that lies at the center of Leah Scheier’s contemporary YA novel The Last Words We Said.

Set in Atlanta and alternating between present day and flashbacks, the story follows three modern orthodox Jewish girls as they deal with the disappearance of their closest friend, Danny. It is a dark thriller of a ride full of secrets, but it is also a quiet exploration of faith. Each girl handles Danny’s death differently. The viewpoint character, Ellie, insists she still sees him after he is dead. Her friend Deenie throws herself into religion so completely as to be borderline fanatical, taking on “extreme chumras” (stringencies of practice that are not necessarily advised or healthy). The third member of the trio, Rae, heads in the opposite direction. Already questioning her commitment to Judaism before Danny’s death, Rae doubles down into her rebel-against-tradition status after he is gone. She also bakes like a woman possessed.

Many people have a religious phase, “frumming out” as it is colloquially known, during their childhood. Often these are temporary stages while the individual in question works through their own personal dialogue with God and faith. However, in cases like Deenie’s religious practice can become a compulsion used to assuage guilt over real or imagined wrong doing.

Rae’s statement that rebellion is about her, and not about being an awful person to everyone around her, is representation that is sorely lacking in both Jewish fiction and the real world. Leaving the faith is often presented as an all or nothing event in which a person either toes the line or loses their family and become a strung out cautionary tale. Rae presents a third option.

Possibly the most universal experience, even for those not religiously inclined, is Ellie’s. The way Ellie deals with her own transgression of faith right before Danny’s disappearance and her resulting grief will ring true to anyone that has ever kept a secret from someone that is no longer around to hear it.

One of the more controversial practices mentioned in the book revolves around dating and physical intimacy. Simply known as being “shomer,” many Orthodox Jewsish boys and girls do not touch each other.

Ignoring the inherent homophobia here, it is a rule that is again both empowering and humiliating all at once. Especially when you are a teenage girl like Ellie. Because the tricky thing, that Scheier handles so deftly, is that shomer is often treated as an obligation of community morality rather than an option for the benefit of the couple in question. A must rather than a choice.

Outside expectations are layered onto to the burgeoning romance of Danny and Ellie to the point where it becomes hard to decipher what Ellie wants versus what everyone else is telling her to want. She is a young person held up as a paragon of virtue to her peers, put up on a pedestal by a society that uses praise as a cudgel to keep its members in line. Because the moment she became a member of the poster couple for “shomer” what should have been an intimate, personal decision became fodder for community gossip. Which can mess with anyone’s psyche, especially a teen who only a few weeks later then has to cope with the aftermath of her boyfriend’s death.

This is the inherent struggle in Ellie’s life. The reason she cannot let her dead boyfriend go and the reason he, in my opinion, never fully understood her. It is the same reason I feel the men in this book consistently fail to own up to their part of the problem in an equivalent way to the introspection we see from the female characters.

Ellie learns the hard way that no matter how loving and caring your boyfriend is, they will never understand what it means to be a girl in a religious community. That a girls transgression will never be viewed the same way as a boys is. Because while a boy will get off with a few light slaps on the back (some of which are probably congratulatory) breaking the rules will shatter so much more than a girls self image or reputation. Because consequences aren’t the same for female presenting individuals in our communities. They never were and they never will be until we let go of some of our notions about purity and gender bias.

This is a book about secrets kept not out of loyalty but out of fear. Fear that others will judge you if you make a mistake. Fear that those you love might reject you if they know your whole truth. Fear that the only community you know is not ready to embrace you. So for all the heartbreak that ensued, I’m glad that in the end Ellie and her friends learned to truly trust each other.

There is a Jewish concept that everything in this world, every relationship and emotion that we experience, has been put here to help us understand God. The kind of love that these girls have for each other? The kind that never falters even when society tries to use it to tear them down and make them feel small? That’s the kind of love I like to think God has for us all. It is only our fallible human selves that have erred and placed conditions on being a member of our communities, and in doing so we wrong each other.

Which is all a really long-winded way of me encouraging you all to pick up this book and find pieces of yourselves in these wonderful girls. Whether you are religious or not, it will speak to you.

Note: This book was in my to be reviewed pile and I was waiting for my library hold to come in when the author kindly offered an electronic review copy.

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 City Beautiful

by: Aden Polydoros

Inkyard Press, October 2021

330 pages

Review by: E Broderick

This is the first, and probably last, time I will review a book that has been dedicated to me. But you scream, Isn’t that a gross conflict of interest? Normally I would say yes. I typically rely on guest reviewers for posts about books I have a vested interest in. However, I think you will agree with me that The City Beautiful by Aden Polydoros is the one notable exception to this rule. Because the author did not know he was dedicating this book to me (and possibly you!) when he wrote it.

Crack open the spine on this gorgeously lush dark Jewish historical fantasy set during the Chicago world’s fair and you will find that Polydoros has dedicated the story of a young immigrant possessed by his former crush’s dybbuk to all of the readers that see themselves within its pages. And I saw myself in this book in a way I never thought possible for a mass market YA that received starred reviews from most of the major trade publications. It even had yiddish!

I immediately felt a kinship to the protagonist Alter. The name, which means “old”, is commonly given to those born ill or sick. The idea is to trick the angel of death by calling a newborn old. I received a similarly symbolic name at my birth.

Alter is a deeply religious Jew who finds comfort in this strange land of America by diving deep into the Jewish traditions that remind him of home. However, he carries a heavy secret in his heart. He harbors a secret crush on his roommate Yakov and when Yakov is murdered it is this love that allows Yakov’s dybbuk to posses Alter. It is also this same love that prevents Alter from seeking an exorcism. Instead, he must pursue the only other viable option to rid himself of the dybbuk before it kills him – solve the mystery of Yakov’s murder and rain vengeance down upon his killer.

Aiding him in this task is Frankie, a former Yeshiva student who has turned Robin Hood and now runs a group of thieves who steal from the rich bosses that exploit Chicago’s immigrants. Alter used to work for Frankie and as the plot unfolds one begins to wonder if Frankie’s dogged support of Alter isn’t a little more than friendly. It is rare to find a Jew so unabashedly afraid to be ambitious and shine a light on the ugliness that lurks in the corners of polite society than Frankie. Equally chaotic, literally – she’s an anarchist, is Raizel. A former shiduch date of Alter’s turned friend, Raizel is a girl after my own heart. She is equally willing to rail against the horrible view from the women’s gallery in shul and the lack of respect she gets as a female reporter. She also clearly kicks Alter’s tuchus in ESL class. Because she’s not afraid to be exceptional in a world where men are supposed to come first and women are told to sit up in the gallery, unseen and unheard.

Following this trio through the deeply disturbing underbelly of the Chicago World’s Fair, the story alternates between sharp social commentary, a treatise on religion and a charming love story. It was utterly captivating and fulfilling. Because, without giving too much away, Polydoros manages to give his religious Jews a happy ending. This book does not shy away from trauma, violence, hate or gore but – wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles  – there is hope at the end for everyone who sees themselves in its pages.

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.

Competitve Grieving

by Nora Zelevansky

Blackstone Publishing, May 2021

390 pages

Review by Emily Barth Isler

This book has everything I love: romance, humor, depth, thoughtful reflections on life and friendship, and likable-if-flawed (aren’t we all?!) characters. Sigh. I loved it so much I just wanted to read it all over again the moment I finished. (So I did!)

The arc of the story, and of its main character, Wren, is so satisfying, and I loved that it takes the reader through the whole process of grief, and all the many ways grief can manifest. It can make us all less flattering versions of ourselves sometimes, and then, if we’re lucky, take us to a new place of understanding and grace and generosity, as it does in this book.

I love to read romances, and I love women’s fiction, and I feel like this book has the best elements of each. It isn’t predictable, yet it does allow the reader to see some insights before they materialize to Wren, who is clouded by her grief. It’s a coming of age story in the best way. I’ve always thought it silly that so many coming of age stories take place around teenagers, when so many people, myself included, truly came of age in our early adulthood. Wren is lost at the beginning of the book, in ways she doesn’t even realize. By the end, while everything isn’t tidy and easy, she has certainly grown and blossomed in such satisfying ways I really related to.

I love the romantic elements of the book– it’s swoony without being unrealistic. I love how real all the characters felt to me. They were unique and quirky and hilarious, but felt like they could be MY old friends, not just Wren’s! I recognized each of them and yet they surprised me just like real people do. And even when they made dubious choices, I could empathize.

As a Jewish reader, the way that Competitive Grieving portrays the Jewish rituals around death (the funeral, shiva, etc) were well-portrayed and familiar. It is always nice to see representations of Jewish life like this in fiction that isn’t necessarily *about* Judaism or Being Jewish (in capital letters), but rather showing the normalcy of Jewish life in incidental ways. I love when a book features characters who are “incidentally” Jewish, like this one, as it gives a peek into the many ways of being Jewish that is accessible to readers of all faiths and normalizes our traditions and customs by experience. 

Nora Zelevansky’s writing is just flat-out gorgeous. I’m a huge fan of her other novels, especially “Will You Won’t You Want Me” which is one of my all-time favorite books. I re-read it whenever I need a pick-me-up, and I know “Competitive Grieving” will be a similar guidepost for me in years to come. Her prose is evocative and rich, yet accessible, a combination so rare and so lovely. I can’t wait for her next book!!!

Emily Barth Isler lives in Los Angeles, California, with her husband and their two kids. A former child actress, she performed all over the world in theatre, film, and TV. Her debut novel for Middle Grade readers and their families, AfterMath, came out in September 2021, and Amy Schumer calls it “A gift to the culture.” It’s available everywhere books are sold (including as an audiobook read by the author!) and at emilybarthisler.com/aftermath. In addition to books, Emily writes about sustainable, eco-friendly beauty and skincare, and has also written web sitcoms, parenting columns, and personal essays. She has a B.A. in Film Studies from Wesleyan University, and really, really loves television. Find her at www.emilybarthisler.com

A Far Wilder Magic

by: Allison Saft

Wednesday Books, March 8, 2022

384 pages

Review by: E Broderick

At first blush “A Far Wilder Magic“, the sophomore effort of author Allison Saft, may not seem an obvious choice for this blog. After all, it is a second world, roaring 20’s inspired, fantasy about a magical fox hunt. Nowhere in its pages does the word “Jewish” appear. However, only a fool would doubt that this is a very, very Jewish book.

The story is told in dual POV. The first, Maggie Welty, is the neglected daughter of an alchemist ostracized by her community due to her father observing the religion of the Yu’adir. The second, Weston Winters, is a bumbling but endearing student hoping to apprentice himself to Maggie’s absentee mother. Ostensibly it is a slow burn love story about two unlikely candidates teaming up to beat all the odds. Yet simmering beneath the small town turned speak easy vibe is something else entirely.

As someone who completed part of her education in an institution fondly known as “The WASP Capital,” it didn’t take more than a couple of chapters for me to grasp that this is the story of a Jewish girl and a Catholic boy confronting their fears, and societies bullies, to take down the Protestant establishment. Saft doesn’t pull her punches. The prejudice that Maggie and Weston face is very ugly, very real and very true to life. Even if the word “antisemitism” or “xenophobia” is never used. It is a universal language instantly recognized by anyone that has experienced it.

We had a tradition in school, a winter formal, in which everyone got dressed up in wedding attire and attended a huge party in a fancy hotel. It was a quasi Prom or debutante ball, only more geek-ish. For many, it was the highlight of the year. For me, it was an unattainable impossibility. Because, it was always held on a Friday night when I could not drive to the venue. Instead, I got all gussied up to attend the pre-party in our dorm and then waved at my classmates as they sped off without me.

Don’t get me wrong, they were good people. Kind people. They often expressed a desire that I could come. Yet they never seemed to realize that unlike the school sponsored senior dinner (also annually held on a Friday night and required driving across a highway to attend so I couldn’t even contemplate walking), this was a student run and organized event. They never talked about rotating the dates. It HAD to be a Friday night, because otherwise how would everyone sleep off the alcohol in time for class on Monday? Honestly, the possibility of change never even occurred to me. Much like Maggie Welty, I made myself small, attempted to blend in, and expected no better from the world around me.

Much like my life, this book is filled with people whose actions are not overtly villainous yet their inaction makes then just as reprehensible for aiding, abetting systemic prejudice and inequality. Saft gives them flesh and bones, taking pains to characterize them as fully as the more obvious heros and villains. Because their complicity is necessary for villains to thrive.

Although the book is slow at first, this is more than made up for by the exceptionally well thought out and fulfilling ending. As the story of Maggie and Weston came to a close I did not think about the feeling of sadness I felt as all my classmates peeled away in their Ubers towards the Ball that I could not attend. Instead, I was reminding of meeting up with the other Jewish students who had stayed behind, as well as the students from other minority faiths who for various reasons chose not to attend. We had chosen something different, but no less special.

My Shabbat candles may not have been as bright as the disco in that hotel. The Kiddush wine not as luxuriant as the open bar. But the faces around my table were open and friendly and the current of understanding that ran through us all was far more electric than anything happening on the dance floor. You might even say a far wilder magic ran through all of our veins that night.

Note: I initially attempted to obtain an arc via NetGalley and was turned down by the publisher. No harm no foul. It happens. However the author later posted on her Twitter that arcs were available for EVERYONE for a limited time and I swooped in and grabbed one. Thank you Allison for the hot tip, and please rest assured that I am not a stalker of your Twitter. I just like books. Especially this one.

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.

How to Find What You’re Not Looking For

by: Veera Hiranandani

Kokila, September 2021

384 pages

Review by: E Broderick

Second person narratives are experiencing a renaissance. Everywhere I turn it seems someone new is attempting to craft a story utilizing this previously rare method of story telling. In inexperienced hands it is a disaster. Bumbling novices try to impress readers and appear “literary” by using a technique they think is sophisticated but in actuality leaves their writing pretentious, stilted and difficult to parse. Lucky for us, Veera Hiranandani is no novice. In her latest middle grade historical fiction novel, How to Find What You’re Not Looking For, she uses the second person to literally push the thoughts and emotions of her main character into the readers consciousness. There is no separation between us and the text. We are the main character and we feel her struggle as a visceral sucker punch because of it. 

The story follows Jewish twelve-year-old Ariel as her life is turned upside down in the summer following the Loving vs. Virginia ruling that declared the banning of interracial marriage was unconstitutional. Ariel has never given much thought to issues of the wider world but when her universe is turned upside down by her sister eloping with a Hindu Indian man that their parents do not approve of, she is forced to do so. We, in turn, are forced to confront these issues as well. To further complicate matters, Ariel is struggling in school due to what we as the reader can easily identify as an undiagnosed learning disability, being bullied by an anti Semitic classmate and her parents contemplating selling the family bakery due to financial difficulty. 

I’ve read and enjoyed Hiranandani’s work before and it is safe to say she does not shy away from tackling difficult issues like race, antisemitism, financial struggles and the internal prejudices that Jewish people have towards the wider world. She has proven she can tell a good story and make us think all at the same time. Yet what made this particular book a stand out for me was in fact the side characters. From the school bully Chris to Ariel’s best friend Jane and back to her babysitter Gabby, they were each so lovingly developed I felt they could carry their own narratives. They breathed life into the world. Made it full and rounded. Even the depictions of Ariel’s parents, who make decisions that Ariel, and by proxy we the readers, disapprove of, are drawn with suck a skillful hand that we never hate them. We simply wish they knew better. 

It would be lovely if I could say I identified with this book because I had a teacher as wonderful as Ariel’s or a friend as determined as Jane. But let’s be real. What I most identified with was seeing the prejudices in those around me and wishing I could change them. As Ariel learns, Holocaust trauma has led to a deeply rooted isolationism in many Jewish communities. We fear that which we view as “other” and the onus of continuing the Jewish people, of making up for all the lives that were lost, presses in on us like the walls of an ever shrinking room and stifles change. This may not be everyone’s experience, Judaism contains multitudes after all, but it really hit home for me. 

I also identified with the family’s Rabbi, whom we never meet, when his advice is relayed through Ariel’s father. In a twist I was not expecting, but that left me pleasantly surprised, he tells Ariel’s parents to do what is in their hearts. This, to me, has always been the definition of Judaism.

As the reader is forced into Ariel’s head, to literally become her by reading this second person story as well as the heart-aching poetry within it, we experience a similar phenomenon. Ariel must look into her own heart and find a way forward for her family. I invite you, the reader, to cast aside your preconceived notions, pick up this book, and do the same. 

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.

Love and Latkes

by: Stacey Agdern

Tule Publishing, October 2021

252 pages

Review by: E Broderick

I posted reviews a bit slower this September for several reasons, all of them related to the recent slate of Jewish holidays. Most of my reading is done on an e-reader which I cannot use on the holiday. In addition, I’ve been spending every free moment preparing holiday foods, both traditional and new, because where I’m from that’s how we mark the passage of time. We honor our past and look forward to our future by cooking and baking the comfort foods we all love.

Which is why it is only fitting that the first book I post after the end of this high holiday season is Stacey Agdern’s romance Love and Latkes. The third in the Friendship and Festivals series, the book follows aspiring Jewish food critic Batya Averman as she attempts to overcome stage fright and feature Jewish food on national television by hosting her town’s inaugural latke fry off. The catch? One of the contestants is Abe, her high school crush gone awry who is hoping to use the contestant to further his own dreams of opening a kosher deli.

Ostensibly, this is a sweet second chance romance featuring Hannukah themes. In reality, it is a love letter to Jewish food and I am here for it! Batya and Abe reconnect over food, flirt by sending each other gifts of food and even engage in the age old applesauce vs. sour cream debate. This, my friends, is the stuff that Jewish foodie dreams are made of.

As I braided my round, raisin challa dough for Rosh Hashana I appreciated the discussion on keeping breads pareve so that those who keep traditional kosher laws can still eat them with meat. I thought about the ice cream shop in the novel that tried to blend new flavors into a historic family establishment. Most of all, I luxuriated in the banter that flew faster than soofganiyot off the plate at a Hannukah party.

For readers that are concerned they need to read the other two books in the series, I would encourage you to let that fear go. I will likely be picking up the other two books because I enjoyed meeting the characters featured within them and would like to know more of their story, but this was in no way necessary to my understanding of this book. It stands on its own. It was also safe for work and my commute.

I did however, have one large issue: apple sauce? Are you kidding me? Sour cream is my preferred latke topping ALL THE WAY. However, the argument about needing a non-dairy option to improve latke accessibility was a sound one, so I will grudgingly overlook this travesty. I will also ignore the use of food processors despite the fact that I like the texture I get by using a box grater for my potatoes/turnips/root vegetables.

In short, I loved this unabashedly Jewish book a latke.

Note: I received an arc of this book, no string attached, from the author after I asked her for one.

The Achdus Club #5: On The Move

by: Faygie Holt

Menucha Publishers, 2021

144 pages

Review by: E Broderick

There is something special about picking up a book and knowing that the author did not spend an hour convincing their publisher not to italicize the Hebrew or agonizing over whether the average reader would know how to pronounce the name Hili. The words are freer to move within this world that is intimately familiar. The characters are more welcoming. The plot lines less “Othering” than what one typically finds in contemporary literature.

That was the gift Faygie Holt’s “Achdus Club” series gives readers. Set in an Orthodox Jewish girls school the books follow the transfer of a new student into the fourth grade class. If you’ve attended such a school, you recognize the upheaval that a new student represents to the tight knit group of friends that have been together since nursery school. Roles are questioned, cliques broken up. The entire social order tilts on its axis. The new addition might as well be an invading alien.

In the book’s case, the new girl, Hili Rosen, causes the Queen Bee Ruthie Somerfield to worry that she will be deposed. Ruthie lashes out predictably but not as viciously as might be seen in a non-orthodox Middle Grade book. As promised by the series title, everything does work out in the end thanks to achdus – the Jewish virtue of togetherness and friendship. In fact, in true Orthodox literature style we do not only get a redemption arc. We get a redemption book. The 5th book in the series follows Ruthie as she and her family face some moves of their own. Still, Holt has a light touch and the moral to the tale never feels forced or unearned.

I recently removed the Jewish adage “Achrona Achrona Chaviva” which roughly translates to “the last one is the dearest” from my own writing. I was afraid it would take gentile readers out of the story too much. Imagine my surprise when there, smiling out at me from the pages of the latest book the Achdus series was that very phrase.

Indeed, the last book was my favorite. I wish those girls well as they move past fourth grade. May they be greeted by a world that always understands how crucial matching Purim costumes are and never mispronounces their names.

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.

Recipe for Disaster

by: Aimee Lucido

Versify, September 2021

352 Pages

Review by: Jamie Krakover

Middle School was tough. Friend groups changed constantly, people you thought you knew one day abandoned you the next. Middle school as a Jew was even more complicated. I had Hebrew school twice a week and it prevented me from doing a lot of activities I otherwise wanted to. When Bat Mitzvah studies started it grew even more complicated. Despite my years of Hebrew school, sometimes I wondered if it was all worth it and what it really meant to be Jewish.

In Recipe for Disaster by Aimee Lucido, twelve-year-old Hannah attends her best friend Shira’s Bat Mitzvah, and finds herself drawn to the Jewish prayers. While her Grandma Mimi is Jewish and shared Jewish treats and traditions with her, Hannah never really attended temple. When Shira says Hannah’s not really Jewish, Hannah decides she going to have her own Bat Mitzvah to prove it, even if her parents won’t allow it.

“You’re not really Jewish” or “not Jewish enough” are phrases that hit home for me. While no one ever told me I wasn’t really Jewish, part of me has never felt Jewish enough despite Judaism being thrust upon me from birth and my Bat Mitzvah not being a choice. Therefore, I pushed back against the formality of Judaism. 

Like Hannah, I loved the songs of Judaism and grew up learning and experiencing them in Jewish venues such as Hebrew School and Jewish day camp. But as a logical science minded person, I’ve often struggled with organized religion. Also like Hannah and her recipe making Mimi, being Jewish for me was all about the traditions that I loved. Break the fast at my aunt’s house, Passover around a huge table at my grandmother’s house, and the food that we all grew up on. Matzah Ball Soup anyone?

Though it was hard for me to understand that being Jewish wasn’t just the formalities, as I grew older I began to realize it was about the cultures and traditions too. It didn’t mean you had to go to temple every week or even on the holidays. Being Jewish was a part of who I was, and I was allowed to experience it in a way that’s meaningful to me.

As Hannah prepares for her secret Bat Mitzvah, she realizes she can still have a connection to her Jewish roots and be part of a community that was in some ways kept from her. While her initial desire to be a Bat Mitzvah was initially for the wrong reasons, as she studies Torah and discovers her Jewish identity, she soon discovers for herself what being Jewish means. And while that’s something that is personal for each Jewish person and paths can vary widely, I think it’s an important part of the journey. As Hannah learns, “Judaism is about what’s in your heart, not about what’s in your blood or what’s in your head.”

For anyone struggling with what being Jewish means, not feeling Jewish enough, or just wanting to learn more about Jewish perspectives make sure to check out Recipe for Disaster by Aimee Lucido. And don’t forget to check out all the amazing recipes inside as well, because for many of us, being Jewish is also tied to the traditional things we eat at each holiday.

Through Snowy Wings Publishing, Jamie Krakover is the author of Tracker220 (October 2020). She also has two female in STEM short stories published in the Brave New Girls anthologies and two engineering-centered nonfiction pieces published in Writer’s Digest’s Putting the Science in Fiction. Jamie lives in St. Louis, Missouri with her husband, Andrew, their son, and their dog Rogue (after the X-Men, not Star Wars, although she loves both).