Jewish middle grade books often feature a rite of passage called, depending on what culture the character is from, either a bat mitzvah, bar mitzvah, b’nei mitzvah or the newer phrase zerah mitzvah. Suffice it to say that all these terms are for a life cycle event celebrating the transition from immature childhood to emotional and spiritual maturity. It is a ceremony meant to mark the ability of the individual to take responsibility for their own actions while simultaneously having the community embrace and support them. This is done in different ways in different steams of Judaism, and as my own bat mitzvah was fairly low key I always enjoy reading about how other cultures and individual personalities celebrate their event. Including those, like main character Zippy from Laurel Snyder’s MG fantasy The Witch of Woodland, who were not intending to celebrate at all.
Zippy, which is short for Zipporah, is an only child from a family that identifies as reform Jewish and mostly attends services for the high holidays. She has to miss school for Jewish holidays, resulting in extra school work, and does not attend Jewish after school like some other young people from her Synagouge so she is surprised when her mother decides that she is to have a bat mitzvah, including leading prayer services in Hebrew. She is specially concerned because she’s not entirely sure she believes in any of the faith aspects of Judaism. The Rabbi is encouraging, even pointing out that her questioning of faith is in itself a very Jewish concept, and encouraging Zippy to be welcomed into their community.
Turning twelve has not exactly been simple for Zippy. She feels left behind by her classmates, who are suddenly interested in dating and lip gloss, while Zippy is more interested in witchcraft and spells. She’s even losing her best friend who wants to hang out with the cool crowd and cannot understand why Zippy won’t at least try to go on this journey with her. The addition of new religious obligations isn’t helping matters. Which is why Zippy, performing a spell in desperation, manages to summon a magical winged girl named Miriam who seems to need Zippy just as much as Zippy needs a friend.
The Zippy/Miriam relationship is complicated but so is the Zippy/Torah relationship. Her bat mitzvah parsha, Mishpatim, is not what she expected. In her own words, it’s “wackadoodle” and even the grown ups in her life seem surprised and uncomfortable when they realize what they have actually asked her to read. Except the Rabbi. He handles the entire thing with aplomb, praising Zippy’s willingness to engage with the text.
Indeed Zippy’s engagement with the text is a lesson in both perspective and how grown ups underestimate teens. When Zippy discovers the sentence “though shalt not tolerate a sorceress to live,” in her parsha her response is not the abject horror I would expect a self proclaimed witch to feel. It’s delight that the Torah acknowledges witchcraft and a mild annoyance with the people in her life for not sharing this crucial fact with her. Eventually, she gets around to dealing with why witchcraft was prohibited and how to read the Torah in a modern context. She also deals with the mysterious amnesiac magical girl with wings situation, and works things out with her best friend.
Zippy does not come around to desiring a dating life, but she does ponder why everyone else does and some of her friends are engaged in relationship both straight and queer. So if your kid is one that does not want any of the kissy stuff in the books they read, this may be a good choice for them. They may find a kindred spirit in Zippy who is in no rush to think about all that, but finds a way to still be supportive of her friends.
In the end, the story of a bat mitzvah is a story of emotional maturity, no matter what ceremony is involved. Zippy learns about community, friendship and how to be herself without cutting herself off from things those around her enjoy. It was fun to spend some time with her and read her story.
I’d like to get something out of the way before I review Power To Yield, the most recent short story collection from Bogi Takács. I was insanely flattered when the author filled out the BookishlyJewish Suggest a Book Form, and even provided a brief explanation of eir work as if I was not already a raging fan of eirs. So I went into this reading feeling pretty pumped, but also having read some of the stories in their original venues. It was intriguing to see them laid out in this way and several stories were new to me as I did not have access to them prior. The forward by Ada Hoffmann is dead on about Takács employing perspective in a unique way. The reader will encounter human perspectives that are orthodox, queer, neurodivergent, disabled, and many other things. And that’s before we get to the perspectives of AI, aliens, and plants. There are even humans that become plants ( twice!!!).
As a writer, I’ve long struggled with the fear that the perspective I write from may not be welcome, or that every sale is just a fluke, and the novelty will soon pass for editors. It doesn’t help that I once got a rejection calling the setting of the women’s mikvah “exotic.” As if a tradition still practiced by millions of people worldwide is nothing more than an endangered species spotted in a zoo. So to see Takács in And I Entreated have the main character describe another character with the phrase “They davka looked Jewish,” was particularly special for me. Like choke on water going up my nose in surprise special. Because migration is another one of Takács’s themes and that phrase is the language of home to me. It tells me that not only can I tell my stories, I should be doing so in my own words.
I suspect a lot of people will favor the title story Power to Yield, and for good reason. It includes aro/ace characters with varying cognotypes that we Earth dwellers would likely call neurodivergence, engaging in a magical form of BDSM for ethically complicated reasons. They acknowledge that their choices are flawed, but still the best they can make at this time because sometimes freedom requires certain compromises. It’s the type of story that you sink into and think about for a good long while after finishing it. But it was not my favorite. That particular award goes to An Errant Holy Spark.
An Errant Holy Spark, on it’s surface is about an AI, the people that invent AI, and alien communication. This is all good stuff, but that’s not why it’s my favorite story from the collection. I really, really enjoyed the character of Dani, a trans Jew who teaches the AI about Torah and why G-d bestowed a divine spark upon an AI. When the arrtificial intelligence comments,
“Mother always tried to look “American,” as she put it. Dani looked American and wore all this ethnic clothing. I could not figure this out for years.”
– it really encapsulated why varying perspectives are valuable in story telling. I loved that line, but when Dani says –
“I was thrown out of an Orthodox synagogue, not all of Judaism itself. That would be quite a feat! …. I’m too Orthodox still to be Reform, ….Too trans to be Orthodox, at least in their eyes. And I believe because it feels right.” (The … represents text I removed for brevitys sake ).
– I felt a whole lot of feelings that are not easily quantified. It was like a dagger through the heart and a hug all at the same time. In a good way. I could see why the aliens chose to communicate with Dani specifically. I suspect I’d enjoy communicating with them too. Alas, they are fictional and reading the story is as close as I’ll get.
This is a book that will challenge ones own perspective even as it validates it. There are things to laugh about, things to ponder, things to make a person wonder in the best sense of the world. Your favorites will be different than mine, and that’s cool, because we each have our own perspective and voice that we bring to reading too. That’s the real take away here. That all these different ways of seeing the world are valid.
Note: BookishlyJewish received a free e-arc of this book from the author through our Suggest A Book form.
When Esther J. Hamori’s book, God’s Monsters, popped up on the BookishlyJewish Suggest A Book form, I was pretty excited. I’m not sure who submitted it, anyone is welcome to suggest a book, but this individual had clearly been paying attention to my personal reading choices. I have often written about my love for Jewish mythical beasts and my own use of them in my fiction. A book about monsters written by a professor at the Union Theological Seminary had the potential to be interesting AND provide fodder for future stories. I was in.
Those expectations were met. The book is written with a humorous style that helps make some of the drier, research heavy, portions come life. There are many pop culture references (a lot of which I admittedly did not get. I’m an honest woman about my less than full participation in the cultural zeitgeist), but also stories about the authors own experience of monstrosity and a few footnotes attributing images or quotes to her students. Several of the detailed creatures have already appeared in my writing and they will continue to do so in a more nuanced way now that I have a new perspective on them. However, what struck me most was how the book drove me to think deeply about the creator of these creatures, namely God.
The book has a central thesis, building towards the final chapter, in which we explore God as a monster. The picture painted is not a pretty one, but that is to be expected when our only source information are passages relating to biblical monsters. There is definitely a lot to learn about the creator and deployer of these monsters, but it felt a little false to do so in a vacuum ignoring any and all other aspects of God. I didn’t fully connect to this last chapter, partially because I felt it was too little too late. The chapter was fairly short, and by keeping it as a grand finale instead of scattering some of the very deep insights it contains throughout the book, the author lost me along the way. I had formed my own conclusions by that point, not all of which dovetailed with the books.
That doesn’t mean it was a waste. It simply means I enjoyed the book in a way that is perhaps different than what Dr. Hamori intended, which is never a bad thing. This philosophical kind of reading required me to pause after each chapter to work through some very complex thoughts. While the books ultimate premise might not have convinced me, I did learn quite a bit, and found my own conclusions satisfying.
At this point, I hope you’re wondering what those conclusions are, because I’ve pretty much already decided to share them. But first I’d like to include a few content notes as the BookishlyJewish readership encompasses a wide variety of religious thought and practice. The book contains not only descriptions of monsters from the Hebrew Bible but also some from newer Christian writings. Dr. Hamori correctly uses the term “Hebrew Bible” rather than the misleading and somewhat derogatory “Old Testament.” She also addresses the innate struggle in gendering God and explains the various choices made in the book on this topic. I appreciated this a great deal. However, as a person that grew up as an Orthodox Jew, I was interested in the Christian passages only for what they could tell me about Christianity. I did not consider them valid evidence or contributions about the nature of my God, because I’m not Christian. Any picture of God emerging from Christian writing is not relevant to me, but it is relevant to a great deal of other people who do believe those writings to be divinely inspired.
Which brings me to my next point, one that helps form many of my conclusions drawn from the evidence presented in the book. Dr. Hamori often refers to authorship of both bibles and the implication is that these are human texts, not necessarily the word of God. However, if a person does not believe these books were divinely inspired, it’s pretty hard to claim they actually say something about the nature of God. A bunch of made up stories or hallucinations from would be prophets, are not exactly valid evidence. They don’t say anything about a divine being who had nothing to do with their creation. Indeed, some who hold that the Bible is a solely human creation may not even believe there is a God in the first place. Certainly lots of Jews do not believe in God. So what then are those readers to glean from all the arguments in the book?
I can’t answer that for every reader, but for me that view would mean that these writings tell us about the people who wrote them. We see what their perception of God was, how it differs from the prevailing one today, and how they may have needed something or someone to blame their troubles on. The book of Job, which the author repeatedly cites as one of Gods worst offenses, handily proves this point. Bad things happen to good people. To prevent all of us from collapsing beneath the weight of that knowledge, someone or something needs to take the blame. God is the easiest target. They are all powerful, can do no wrong, and are also very handily not comprehensible to humanity. We can lay our burden at Gods feet and promptly forget about it all because we could not possibly understand the ways of God. Frankly, being responsible for all the worlds ills, including death and plague, is a beating that only a God figure is strong enough to withstand. In her last chapter Hamori touches on this idea of comfort in a God that also dwells in the dark places, and I would have loved to see it expanded.
But what about those, like myself, who do believe in some form of God and who feel that at least some of these writings were divinely inspired? I can’t answer this questions for the Christian’s, because as previously mentioned, I’m not Christian. Indeed, some of the quoted Christian passages were a pretty wild ride for a first time reader. I will focus solely on a Jewish perspective, and I would pose that from the Jewish tradition, very little quoted from the Hebrew Bible is surprising. Jews have never romanticized our angels into the winged cherubs found on Hallmark greeting cards. From the very first chapter of our Bible we are told that humans were created in Gods image. Which means we have to look no further than ourselves for connection and understanding. Humanity is both utterly perfect and utterly flawed. We are capable of extreme kindness, but we also daily see proof of our epic ability to behave like monsters. Part of this is our own free will, but where do these desires come from if not from the one who made us?
I am not a Rabbi or a biblical scholar, but I struggle to find a passage in Judaism that insists God is perfection personified. All knowing, incomprehensible, all powerful. Sure, that is definitely in some liturgy somewhere. But it may not be heretical to suggest that God, and their many creations, is flawed. Indeed, repairing a flawed world is a central tenet for many branches of Judaism. Which begs the question of why God set us such a task and partnered with humans in this way if they could create a flawless world instead. There are many answers, including pretty theories about God desiring to reward us, but those have always been to forcefully saccharine to ring true to me. Plus, they require too much suffering for one righteous human to reap their reward. I would instead wonder if God too is seeking to repair and understand a flawed nature of their own. We cannot understand God, but we can understand ourselves, and that’s the closest we’re going to get. And boy are we ever flawed.
It’s been awhile since I thought so deeply on a religious topic. Perhaps in another life, had I been born to a different gender or life circumstances, I might actually have been a Rabbi or theologian. I’ve always enjoyed learning about the worlds various religions. Perhaps there may yet be a second act for me in Jewish nonfiction writing. Who knows? The possibilities are endless. After all, I contain a spark of God within me, and I have Dr. Hamori to thank for reminding me of that.
Note: BookishlyJewish received a free review copy of this book after contacting the publisher when the book was suggested through our Suggest a Book Form.
Wendy Xu (Illustrator) and Suzanne Walker (Author)
October 22,2019 Oni Press
243 pages
Review by E. Borderick
It has been very difficult for me to create recently. Like many creatives, I have periods where art (in my case, words) flows like water, and other times where writing is like extracting moisture from a dessert. During those fallow periods I find it helpful to take the age old advice and “refill the well,” but not in the way that many people use this phrase. I’m not actively running around participating in exciting activities, reading new and experimental styles, or picking up skills by enrolling in classes. While those things are great, what I need is a fuzzy blanket book. You know the type. The book that feels like it is wrapping me in a snuggle, keeping me safe and warm. I have several of these much loved tomes, and one of them is the graphic novel Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu.
The book follows a Jewish witch named Nova, who is living with her grandmothers instead of taking a traditional witch apprenticeship. Nova’s parents died some years ago and she’s really just needed the comforts of home. But when her old childhood friend Tam, a nonbinary werewolf, comes back to town, Nova is thrust into an adventure she had not necessarily been seeking.
Tam has always missed Nova, and the sparks fly as soon as these two reconnect, but Tam’s stepfather has been making their life miserable for some time now. Tam’s childhood was tumultuous and destabilizing and they are now struggling to escape a cult seeking to use their werewolf magic for nefarious purposes. Worse? The stepfather has been in on it this whole time. Tam has not had much love in life, or other people to rely on, and they finally find that support and caring with Nova and her grandmothers.
Love and compassion for each other, no matter what, are themes that shine off these pages. It is clear that the authors placed a great deal of thought into each word and graphic. The result is a book that heals the spirit. From the way the villains correctly gender Tam, because even despicable people trying to sacrifice another human should be capable of using they/them pronouns, to Nova’s family eating mooncakes in the Sukkah, every page is full of sources of joy and inclusion. The romance is swoony, the adventure exciting but not too scary, and the narrative choices full of kindness to the reader. These was a moment I was concerned we were heading towards a weird love triangle or discrimination against witches scenario with Nova’s scientist best friend but it did not happen. In fact, the exact opposite occurred. I should have known better than to be concerned. I was in safe hands the entire time.
Sometimes a reader just needs to feel safe and secure and loved in order to fully enjoy a book. Those feelings are abundant in Mooncakes. Which is why it sometimes helps me find inspiration when I am no longer in love with my work, or maybe even myself. Tam learns that we are all worthy, and Nova finds a way to move on. This reader learned those things too, and I’m better for it.
There is definitely a joke to be made about sexy firefighters, romance novels, and Hanukkah – a holiday in which Jewish people light open flames in their homes for eight nights in a row. However, I’m not going to make it because somehow Rebecca Crowley has managed to provide us with Shine A Light, a straight romance featuring a Jewish firefighter and an actress who has recently burned down her apartment, and it is ridiculously sweet.
Our heroine, Ellie, is an aspiring actress who spends her days working as an executive assistant, a job she hates, because it afforded stability and much needed cash while her mother was ill. She remained in the cubicle even after her mothers passing in order to save up enough funds to move to Los Angeles. She generally avoids her home town of Orchard Hill due to painful memories. But all that changes when she is forced to move in with her sister as her apartment is severely damaged by the fire. And lo and behold, her sisters next door neighbor is none other than sexy firefighter Jonah, who offered her words of comfort after the fire.
Ellie and Jonah each have their own family issues to work through, but no matter what is going on, they meet each night at their respective windows to light menorahs together. The book is low heat, the physical romance only extends to kissing, but the tension is definitely there. Ellie and Jonah are attracted to each other but they must each first figure out what they actually want in life before starting a romance.
Crowley has managed to give us a very Jewish sexy firefighter. Jonah is a former rabbinical student, so he is equally capable of waxing philosophical and carrying people out of burning buildings. And in a pivotal scene Ellie remarks on this in a hilarious way. Hanukkah is a holiday of Jewish warriors who defeated a much larger army. They fought not because they couldn’t assimilate into the Greek culture that often prioritized physical prowess, but because they didn’t want to. In a world that sometimes stereotypes us as weak and overly intellectual it is an important reminder that Jewish people can be anything they want to be. On their own terms.
Note: BookishlyJewish received an e-copy of the book after we reached out and requested one.
Everybody has that special book, the one they curl up with when the world is too much and they just need a break. The one that tells them everything will be OK. The one that makes the impossible possible while simultaneously giving the reader a hug. For me, that book is the Friendship and Festivals Romance Series by Stacey Agdern which begins with Miracles and Menorahs.
Protagonist Sarah loves Hanukkah so much, her friends have taken to calling her the Hanukkah Fairy. When the books begins she has recently been named Vice Chair of the Hanukkah festival in the small of Hollowville where she lives. Sounds perfect right? It would be, except a new town trustee has decided the Hanukkah festival would be much better off if it more closely resembled what other small towns do for the winter holidays, namely a Christmas tree and carols. Basically, like every Hallmark movie that refuses to acknowledge the existence of people who do not celebrate Christmas as anything more than tokens, this trustee is determined to bulldoze over the Hanukkah festival unless Sarah can convince the town that Hanukkah is worth fighting for.
She assembles a helpful crew – including a publicist who gets the festival some great press and lots of interested vendors who help her diversify the food offerings to showcase many cultures, but one thing is missing. Nobody can find a sculptor willing to craft a centerpiece menorah, and without it the new trustee will plunk a giant Christmas tree in the center of the festival (taking a moment here to shout out to the tree vendor for exceedingly ethical behavior – you’ll know what I mean when you get there and you will applaud him too). There is one sculptor that comes to mind – Isaac who just so happens to be the grandson of a Hollowville community member, as well as attracted to Sarah, but he is unwilling to participate in an activity he feels might commercialize the holiday. The fall out is a delicate dance for his budding relationship with Sarah.
Plot and characters aside, this book makes me happy because it allows for a universe in which an American town would have a Hanukkah festival at all. A festival in which people of varying backgrounds get together to celebrate something other than the culturally dominant Christian holiday. That’s a beautiful thing. It also includes such fun things as a cavalcade of latkes and an entire fair of fried foods from around the world. It allows readers to think that maybe, just maybe, there might be a place larger than their community center that might be willing to celebrate their holiday with them, whatever that holiday may be.
This is a sweet romance, the highest heat level is a kiss, but it includes a lot of relationship building. It’s a comfort book, pure and simple, about love and yes- miracles. Because that’s what the festival represents to me. A miracle of inclusion. Hopefully it comes true in our lifetime!
Although I am reviewing The Dreidel Do-Over second out of the two currently available Matzo Baller romance books, it is by no means secondary. This book, written by Amanda Usen, is full of food, flirtation, and heat. Plus many interesting games of Dreidel (yes strip dreidel is included). Plus, when read together with its counterpart, The Hanukkah Hook-Up, it is a stunning testament to the power of creative collaboration.
The main character, Talia, is no stranger to collaboration herself. A professional chef who owns a catering company called The Jewish Grandma, Talia is busy ensuring everybody is fed when the Matzo Baller casts off for its yearly Hanukkah cruise. However, that doesn’t stop her from participating in a flirtation via missives and foodstuffs shuttled by servers to and from the hot bartender who is all too happy to reciprocate. When supplies run low, the two end up collaborating on several cocktail and food solutions and Talia discovery that Mr. Sexy Bartender is in fact her long lost friend Asher from Jewish summer camp.
I don’t know what is more quintessentially Jewish – the fact that his name is Asher, the fact that they both went to summer camp, or the fact that Talia has decided to deep fry sweet noodle kuggel in ravioli dough. Either way, it’s delightful and the mixologists’ among us may also find it intriguing to try and mimic the Hanukkah cocktails which come with such names as “Gelt-y Pleasure” and “Halla-Day hangover”. Ingredients are provided, but proportions are not, so this could result in a very fun, very tipsy, book club event for anyone feeling ambitious.
As I read Talia and Asher each sharing their unique strengths and talents, I could not help but notice that the book was set up to focus on the authors unique strengths and talents. This book is much higher heat than its counterpart, with two explicit sex scenes that are hotter than latkes straight out of the fryer, and delves deep into the culinary side of Jewish culture. Hanukkah Hook-Up was more fade to blank with heavy banter/humor. The two books contain no spoilers and can be read in either order, but I do recommend reading them together for the full experience. This will allow you to pick out just how different the styles of the two authors are while also grinning at how the puzzle pieces of the two books fit together. I’m actually really excited to see how they continue the series.
I would also be remiss if I did not mention that this book focused on practicing Judaism your own way, without being judged for “not being Jewish enough”. On a holiday that celebrates our refusal to give up our particular identity and assimilate into the larger Greek culture, it’s particularly apt. It doesn’t matter how you Jew, just do so proudly and without apology for being true to yourself, like Talia the Jewish Grandmother.
Note: BookishlyJewish received an e-copy of the book from the author after she filled out our Suggest A Book form.
Christmas romance is flooding the shelves this time of year, including every variation from small town romance to some very salacious Santa’s, but I’m happy to report that Hanukkah romance is also thriving and creating its own niche in both trad and self pub. A prime example is the Matzo Ballers series, about a set of of friends who gather together every Hanukkah on a Manhattan cruise boat called the Matzoh Baller. The first two books of the series have released in time for Hanukkah and feature the parallel adventures of two of the eight friends.
You can read these books in either order, they don’t contain spoilers, but I started with Jessica Topper’s The Hanukkah Hook-Up because I received it first. On page one, we meet a very stylish but very bogged-down-at-work Nora, who is forced to miss the yearly Matzo Baller cruise in order to greet the team from the Midwest that is planning to buy out her company. Instead of partying it up on the boat with her friends and a who’s who of NY Jewry she’s stuck drinking eggnog and dodging mistletoe at the company “holiday” party which is largely Christmas themed.
Nora is thrown together with the only other Jew present, Alex Beckman, by her obnoxious boss who seems to think it is hilarious there are two Jews at the party. When the aforementioned heinous boss cancels the expected holiday bonuses, Nora decides that enough is enough and flees the party for the boat, taking Alex with her. The two are obviously attracted to each other and Nora proposes a Hanukkah hook up in which they do not discuss work. Turns out this arrangement won’t work though, because new comer Alex is actually the head of the buy out team and everything in the office is not exactly kosher, which is why Norah has been so stressed about work lately.
The office shenanigans are actually solved relatively simply, the book is only 172 pages after all, but my favorite part of the book wasn’t the drama. It was the rapid fire banter and Jewish humor. Never have I felt so fully immersed in Jewish jokes and puns. This book prioritizes the a Jewish gaze and it shows. The writer does not pause every few sentences to explain for the wider audience. Instead she revels in the niche market.
The Hanukkah Hook-Up is an adult romance and the characters are physically intimate several times, but there’s always a fade to black and nothing is explicit on the page. I’d call it medium heat.
From the chapter, when Nora talks about her Hanukkah blue dress clashing with all the red and green on display at the office party, one gets the sense that this is a book written for Jews by Jews. There is enough here in context clues for a person who is not Jewish to understand what is happening, but the book does not beleaguer the point or write to the lowest common denominator. The inside jokes are fast and furious and I smiled so many times. Because this was a book written for me, just in time for my holiday, and I cherish it as such.
Note: BookishlyJewish received a free e copy of this book from the author after she filled out our Suggest A Book form
You’d think that living in a densely populated Jewish state would ensure that I was never the sole representative for my religion in any given group. You would be wrong. A Jewish person, even in the most Jewish of areas, often finds themselves in some isolating situations. Missing commencement dinner on Friday night, unable to eat the food at the office “holiday party,” or my personal favorite – the only writer in the critique group whose characters don’t use the same cultural touchstones as everyone else’s. With supportive peers, it can be a beautiful thing to represent Judaism to colleagues and have them share their own traditions in turn. It can also be exhausting.
Which is all to say that when I met Noah, the love interest of Betsy Aldredge’s YA Hanukkah romance, Eight Dates and Nights, I really felt for the guy and what he was trying to do. The book is told from the perspective of Hannah, a New Yorker who comes out to Texas to visit her grandmother and ends up stuck there for the entire Hanukkah to weather issues. Hannah is feeling alone and sad when she stumbles into the Jewish deli run by Noah and his grandfather. She’s surprised to learn that this small Texas town was once home to a vibrant Jewish community, but now Noah and the deli are almost all that’s left of Jewish culture there.
Does this get Noah down? No it does not. In fact, he’s a one man Hanukkah machine, spreading joy and Judaism so that the history of the towns Jewish community will not be forgotten. He’s so into his Hanukkah mission that he bets he can spread the holiday spirit to grouchy Hannah too. She agrees to help him out at the deli, which is in dire need of saving, and he shows her the Hanukkah magic with a new experience every night.
This is grumpy sunshine relationship goals. Noah’s joy is infectious and Hannah learns that maybe life outside a large Jewish community is still worthwhile, albeit different from what she is used to. But what I loved most of all was Noah’s devotion to representing Judaism, and the towns history. It can be exhausting, and Hannah leaned to appreciate that, but Noah is determined to keep the spark of Judaism – and the deli – alive.
Hanukkah is about making things last, about spreading light to the world, and sharing our miracle with others. Noah was a really great example of that. Sure, sometimes it may feel like the millionth time you have to explain something, but each person and each positive encounter is another small light to the world. May all our torches shine as bright as Noah’s this holiday and spread light and joy to the world.
Note: BookishlyJewish received a copy of the book from the author after she filled out our Suggest a Book Form
September 5, 2023 Atheneum Books for Yound Readers
256 pages
Review by: E Broderick
I am a sucker for Jewish monsters and demons. I devoured the Golem of Prague books as a kid, and while I avoided most horror novels, I delighted in the late night stories about Sheidim we kids would tell each other in the bungalow colony when no adults were watching. Still, my menagerie of Jewish monsters remained fairly small – a tiny flock in comparison to the hordes of mythical beasts and creatures I read about in non-Jewish books and stories. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized that Jewish tradition is actually steeped in monster lore and many of the small traditions we practiced – like never fully boarding up a window – were rooted in demonology. Kids today have better reading options and far more access to these stories.
In her debut, Naomi Teitelbaum Ends the World, Samara Shanker gave us a nice picture of golems and one or two other creatures. In the sequel, Rebecca Reznik Reboots the Universe, she dives right back into the well, displaying the fact that according to some passages in the Talmud, everything from stubbing your toe to wearing a hole in your sweater, can be attributed to magical beings up to no good.
The main characters are the same trio of friends we have already come to know and love, but this time Rebecca takes center stage as the viewpoint character. This narrative choice results in two interesting developments for the reader. First, by seeing the former viewpoint character of Naomi through Becca’s eyes, we get a more nuanced feel for her than when we were inside her head in book one. Rebecca is keenly observant and the adage that nobody knows us better than our friends is very true in this case. It was fascinating to see the characters through this new pair of eyes.
The second difference, which is more pivotal to the plot, is that Naomi and Becca’s heads work very differently. Naomi is presented a neurotypical, whereas Becca is neurodivergent. A label is never affixed to her in the text but we are given enough context clues to figure it out and experience Becca’s world her way. This is especially important when it comes to how she views the magical creatures vs. how Naomi does. There is nothing magical about Becca, the book does not fall into the common trap of romanticizing or mythologizing neurodivergence, but rather Becca’s unique viewpoint proves crucial to the plot and resolution.
The creatures that appear in Becca’s home over the eight nights of Hanukkah are some of my favorites, and I guarantee they will be favorites of MG readers too. The shirika panda even appears! (Do not worry if you don’t know what that is. It’s one of the more obscure, but delightful or terrifying depending on who you are, creatures mentioned in Jewish demonology. The trio approaches things with their usual charming optimism and friendship, and some old their allies from the last book make cameo appearances, as do Naomi’s moms who are indeed very different when viewed through Becca’s eyes.
Another major difference between the two books, is that now that the friends are older topics like dating (none of them are interested), and bras now come up. Becca is also struggling to reconcile maturing emotionally with her neurodivergence. She describes feeling sometimes left behind by her friends, despite their reassurances, and a crucial part of the books conclusion is her realization that different is not necessarily a bad thing and that she too is maturing right along with her peers.
I don’t know if we will get a third book from Eitan’s point of view. I’d certainly be interested to see how that shifts the dynamic, and there are plenty of magical creatures left. But in the interim, I’d recommend this one as a great Hanukkah gift to help young readers learn about some of our more entertaining creatures as well as seeing the world from different perspectives. And if that’s not enough, there’s a tiny creature-that-is-definitely-not-a-Hanukkah-goblin holding a dreidel on the cover. What more could you ask for?
