Bookishly Jewish

Coming of age in the 1960s, anti-Semitism is very personal to me. Corporate recruiters studiously avoided college placement day at Brooklyn College, even though it was one of the best colleges in the nation. Only a handful of companies controlled by Jews — like Macy’s and Gimbel’s were represented.

Two decades later, University Press of America published my first book, The Einstein Syndrome: Corporate Antisemitism in America Today. In it, I mentioned how one of our nation’s largest banks, Morgan Guaranty often held its officers’ picnic on Yom Kippur. The Jewish officers were welcome: they just couldn’t eat anything. Of course, there weren’t any Jewish officers — and even today, there are just a handful.

Back in the 1960s, three quarters of the lawyers in New York City were Jewish, but none of the huge “white-shoe” law firms had even one Jewish partner. Since, then, things have gotten much better on the employment scene, but violent attacks on American Jews are on the rise.

Jacqueline Seewald’s new book, Heart of Wisdom, provides a window on Jewish life during the two decades between the world wars, when conditions for Jews — especially recent immigrants — was considerably worse than it’s been in recent years. Indeed, some of the most successful Jews were gangsters. Newark had the second highest concentration after New York City. You’ll get to meet some of them in this wonderful page-turner.

Like immigrant groups before them, the Jews in the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s, were not just harshly discriminated against, but they, quite literally, had to be twice as good to get half as much. They were forced to take low-paying jobs, or else earn livings as criminals.

And yet, against heavy odds, the Jewish immigrants of Newark — and other Eastern seaboard cities — climbed the economic ladder, eventually gaining almost full American acceptance. Aside from its being a griping story, Heart of Wisdom provides a window through which to view American immigrant life almost a century ago.

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There were several flavors of science major in undergrad – the small few that were planning on academic research careers, those hoping to go into pharma and industry, and a large contingent of premed and nursing students. Each of these groups had their own little fiefdoms, but cross talk was common, especially when it came to dating. It was not uncommon for a premed to be in a serious relationship with a chemistry PhD hopeful and for the geologists to swap notes with the biotech bros. It was a happy little mash up of nerds. And then there were the dental students. For some reason, I could pick them out of a crowd easily and they never seemed to fully mesh in with the other groups. So when I heard that Mazey Edding’s debut adult romance, A Brush With Love, featured a Jewish dental student hoping to be an oral maxillofacial surgeon, I was game to dive in and get an in depth look at one of these mysterious creatures.

The dental student in question, Harper, is top of her class, has a crew of friends in the health sciences, and also suffers from rip roaring anxiety. As a senior, she is poised to match into her choice of oral maxillofacial residency programs, the result of years of hard work. All of this careful planning is turned upside when she meets freshman dental student Dan, who is what graduate programs refer to as a “non traditional” student, because he took several years off to work in finance before returning to complete his dental education. It rapidly becomes clear that Dan is way more interested in Harper than he is in dentistry. In fact, he has only enrolled in dental school because after the passing of his famous, but verbally abusive, dentist father his mother needs his help in running the family dental practice.

Harper and Dan flirt in the most unlikely of places – including the dental lab while making plaster molds of teeth. It is clear that this book is written by someone who, like Harper, has a passion for dentistry. It is therefore impressive that Dan’s misgivings are given equal weight and the reader is allowed to feel Dan’s ambivalence towards being bullied into a dental career just as much as we experience Harper’s anxiety that this relationship is throwing off the career trajectory that she has dreamed about since she was young. We witness a full blown anxiety/panic attack from Harper as well as some of the harsher memories that Dan has of his father. These subjects are handled delicately and they provide much nuance to the characters.

The banter in this book is fast and furious, however it relied on a little too many double entendres and crass humor for my taste. This is not because the jokes and wit are poorly done. In fact, they all land exactly as they are meant to and this obviously took a significant amount of skill. It will be appreciated by the right reader. I just happen to prefer a different style for humor (which is ironic in the extreme since I prefer high heat in terms of the physical aspects of the relationship). Which brings to my only other quibble with the book. There is a scene that involves a fight that gets physical between Dan and some of the other dental students that harass Harper. I was so very desirous of seeing Dan as a knight in shining armor, and I adored his willingness to step up for Harper, but I wish this hadn’t descended into unnecessary physical violence and that Dan hadn’t been the one to escalate it to that level. I just don’t find that sexy, although I know many people do and will love this scene.

Speaking of reader preferences – this seems a good place to insert my usual description of the books heat level. There are 1-2 explicit m/f sex scenes that are not safe for work.

By the end of the book, I felt like I did learn something about those mysterious dental students, but I also learned something about anxiety disorders, as well as how someone like Harper – who is proud of being Jewish but is not particularly desirous of a daily religious practice – expresses her identity. It was fun to spend some time in her world but also at times scary and even inspiring. She’s a wonderful character and I thought her well-roundness was the strength of this romance.

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A Round Up of Funny, Soviet-Jewish Books to Read While The World is on Fire

by: Alina Adams

The world is on fire. And what do Jews do when the world is on fire? Jews pray. Jews raise money. Jews march. Jews fight back. And Jews… laugh.

At least, that’s what I grew up believing. I was born in the former Soviet Union. In Odessa, USSR, in point of fact. Odessa Jews pride themselves on laughing. Especially when there is little to laugh about. (Did you hear the one about Abramovich…)

My family arrived in the United States in 1977. Growing up in San Francisco, CA, I read a lot of books where the protagonists were Jewish immigrants to the US from pre-revolutionary Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Latvia, Lithuania, Moldova, etc… There was nothing from those who managed to escape afterwards. 

But now my generation, the one that left the Soviet Union, not the Pale of Settlement, is finally old enough to tell our stories. And many of us are choosing to do it the quintessential Jewish way: With laughter through tears.

While there is no question that Gary Shteyngart, starting with The Russian Debutante’s Handbook and moving through Absurdistan and the autobiographical Little Failure, kicked off the genre, I have to admit: I never quite got him. To me, it felt like those early books of his (I never read any of the subsequent ones) were a list of weird things Soviet Jews did, so that readers could laugh at them. I prefer stories where you laugh with the characters. Especially about those weird things that Soviet Jews do. Maybe it was because his narrators were men, and our experiences were markedly different. Maybe it was because the stories included a deep strain of self-pity, which I’ve never enjoyed. I like tales of people who rise above their unfortunate circumstances, not wallow in them. Maybe that’s a female thing.

Which is why my list of Soviet-Jewish books to read during troubled times include the following, all by women:

• Oksana, Behave! by Maria Kuznetsova. There is a tendency, in both fiction and non-fiction, to infantilize immigrants, as well as to turn them into saints. As if the process of becoming an immigrant keeps you from being a well-rounded human being, with noble impulses alongside selfish ones. Now, while it is true that trying to make oneself understood in a foreign language does tend to produce child-like sentences, it does not mean that the people behind those sentences are as innocent or simple as children. In Oksana, Behave! neither the immigrant in question, Oksana, nor any of her relatives are innocent, pure, or sexless. Which makes reading the book a much more entertaining experience. 

• Mother Country by Irina Reyn. In Oksana, Behave!, we follow the heroine as she grows up, from the USSR to the US. In Mother Country, the heroine Nadia is already a “woman of a certain age.” One who has lived and suffered through the breakdown of the Soviet Union, and is now trying to piece together a life in the United States at the same time as she fights to reunite with her grown daughter. And yet Nadia is also a well-rounded person. She gets angry. She gets frustrated. She gets horny. And she gets sarcastic. Which makes spending time with her worth the effort.

• The Matrimonial Flirtations of Emma Kaulfield by Anna Fishbeyn. There is a certain path immigrant children are supposed to follow. First, you move into a community where everyone is exactly like you. You work hard at school. You go to college. You get certified in a lucrative, yet respectable profession. You marry someone from a community exactly like yours, who is also in a lucrative, respectable profession. You move into a community exactly like yours. You have children whom you raise in a community exactly like yours to follow a path exactly like yours. Being born in America doesn’t mean you’re allowed to plan your own life, like one of those uncouth, disrespectful Americans. This book is what happens when the heroine tries.

• Divide Me By Zero by Lara Vapnyar. I was one of those immigrant children who dared plan my own life, just like an uncouth, disrespectful American. Chief among my sins was my disinterest in math, followed by my utter inability to understand math. (I suspect a strong correlation.) I married someone who could do math. Alas, he was not from a community exactly like mine. However, he did come in handy when I was reading Divide Me By Zero, so he could explain all the ways in which math was used in this story to express lasting, passionate, and all-encompassing love. I did not know I needed the math equations of love in my life. I was wrong. And this book was what I needed to prove that.

Honorable Mention: Non-Fiction Titles by Soviet Jewish Women

• Parenting with an Accent by Masha Rumer. That man I married who could do math but wasn’t from a community exactly like mine also had the audacity not to speak Russian. So when it came to teaching our three children the language, we ended up with a hodge-podge of half-hearted attempts, compromise, resistance, and an older son who spent a year in Moldova to learn what I had failed to effectively teach him. Rumer’s book chronicles families like mine, as well as dozens of other examples, where simply teaching a heritage language proves to be not at all simple, when tradition, culture, and trauma are all added to the mix. And yet, you’re going to laugh!

• The Golden Ticket: A Life in College Admissions Essays by Irena Smith. So remember the work hard at school, go to college, get certified in a lucrative, yet respectable profession edict from a few paragraphs ago? What happens when you go ahead and diligently do that? And it doesn’t work out? What happens then? Well, you pivot and start telling other people how to make their children successful. While struggling to do the same with your own. That’s pretty funny. And so is this book.

These are my favorite Soviet-Jewish fiction and non-fiction titles? What do you have to add to this list? Tell us in the Comments!

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Find the books mentioned in this post:

The Russian Debutante’s Handbook: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Absurdistan: GoodReads | Bookshop | Amazon

Little Failure: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Oksana, Behave! : Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Mother Country: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

The Matrimonial Flirtations of Emma Kaulfield: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Divide Me By Zero: Goodreads |Bookshop | Amazon

Parenting With An Accent: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

The Golden Ticket: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

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A few years ago I wrote a YA novel about consent. Now don’t get me wrong, it was an exciting book with plenty of plot- epic fantasy love story, romantasy before romantasy became a thing, high heat, villains you love to hate, even twisty battle scenes. But at its beating heart was a discussion of consent in its various forms. Which is probably why nobody knew what to make of that particular story. It’s still one of my favorite pieces of writing, and I think about it often. Which is why I was delighted to find a very thorough treatment of consent as a plot topic (in a book that does NOT involve any non consensual sex) in Tori Anne Amos’s romance This Spells Disaster. 

Martin’s book is a spunky adult f/f romance, which could be equally comfortable on a new adult shelf had that genre ever really taken off. It takes place in a contemporary setting with one slight twist – magic is real and witches are integrated into regular society. The viewpoint character is a potion witch named Morgan who has a tremendous crush on fellow witch Rory, a competitive spell caster who has retired from competition for undisclosed reasons despite being an international sensation. Rory has moved to Morgan’s small New England town and poor Morgan can’t get out two words edgewise when they are together. 

Like all good romances, tropes are involved. In this case – to help Rory get her family off her back about returning to competition, Morgan offers to be her fake girlfriend. The idea being that if Rory’s family sees she is happy with her life choices and settling down they might agree to respect her decision to leave the competition circuit. Except Morgan really, really wants this relationship to be real. And so does the reader. Badly. The yearning is palpable and I was helpless to resist it. 

In the midst of all the fun “is that real flirting or fake flirting?” shenanigans an accidental love potion gets thrown into the mix and there enters the question of consent and what one should and shouldn’t do with a person under the influence of mind altering substances both magical and not (did I mention Rory works as a bartender?). It adds a layer of emotional sensitivity to what would otherwise feel like fluffy flirting and banter (although it really skilled fun flirting and banter. I was grinning like a two year old with an ice cream cone).  The book takes on depth and insight is given into the characters ethical and moral backgrounds.

Rory is clearly a badass. I developed just as much of a whopping crush on her as a Morgan did. I dearly want to know how she lights her Hanukah menorah with magic. However, she is also unfailingly kind and patient. Similarly, Morgan makes some mistakes but she is always ethical. They were a couple I could root for easily. Especially when their relationship also took on an aspect of protecting those around you from the unrealistic expectations of others. 

That book about consent I wrote? I don’t know what will ever happen to it. Maybe YA isn’t ready for that kind of thing. Maybe it will jump into the romantasy trend and be a bestseller. Maybe nobody will ever read it. Those things are outside my hands. But as Rory teaches Morgan, it is the act of creation, of doing something I love, that is what matters. Not national acclaim or meeting the goals and expectations of other. Consent is about respecting the autonomy of your partner, which only comes when you recognize them as a person independent of yourself with their own thoughts and desires. They are worthy as they are without any modifications needed. Rory and Morgan both need to experience that in order to become whole. The reader experiences it right along with them. Which is why I think it is worthy as it is too.

Heat level – the book has a lot of flirting and fantasizing with one explicit f/f sex scene.

Find It: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

We talk about Jewish unity a lot these days, about recognizing Jews from across a spectrum of practice, but often these discussions feature the very necessary topic of giving equal respect to Ashkenaz, Sephardic, and Mizrahi traditions while omitting the specific perspectives of Jews of color that aren’t from a Mizrahi or Sephardic background. One such Jew is Mia, the main character of Emily Bowen Cohen’s middle grade graphic novel Two Tribes. When Mia brings up the topic of diversity, there is a rush to inform her of all the Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews attending her school. The only problem is that Mia isn’t from those backgrounds. Her mother is Ashkenaz and her father is Native American and it rapidly becomes clear that nobody is entirely sure how to process that, least of all Mia herself. 

Throughout the book Mia is embraced as a Jew, with the Rabbi’s wife even assuring her that she is “one hundred percent Jewish”, however this is besides the point. Mia’s father, from whom her mother is divorced, is a member of the Muscogee Nation. Mia wants to learn more about this part of her heritage but resources are scare and in the case of a school library book – offensive. She tries to express this to the adults in her life but they instead focus on her upcoming Bat mitzvah. In her plight, I recognized two common problems. Adults often disregard the views of children even as those children are trying to explain what they need in every possible manner available to them. Unfortunately, the same pattern is often repeated when a group in the minority seeks help from the majority. Their voices and requests are plowed over in favor of what the majority thinks they should have asked for instead.

When Mia is teased for being adopting by a classmate who assumes she can’t have been born to biologic Jewish parents because of her appearance, Mia is distraught to realize she can’t really talk about her father’s side of the family. Her mother, stepfather, and Rabbi try to protect her by assuring her she is Jewish and nobody should ever assume she is adopted because there are Jews with every possible appearance. This completely dwarfs and disregards Mia’s actual existential issue – she handled the bully just fine, but he awakened within her a desire to understand the Muscogee part of herself and nobody was willing to help her.

Mia’s father, in his own words, made some very big mistakes in Mia’s early years. The details are kept vague, but the reader is given the impression that at the very least he cheated multiple times on Mia’s mother and gaslit her about the entire situation. Understandably, Mia’s mother is hesitant to reopen communications even though Mia still receives cards and occasional phone calls from her father’s family. However, nursing old wounds does little to answer Mia’s questions and she grows so desperate, she cashes in her bat mitzvah money and runs off to her father’s house while lying to him about why she is there. 

When Mia finally connects with her father, he tell her that he accepts responsibility for his prior actions and has rejoined the church in order to be a better person. The reader will find proof of that change in the way he respects Mia’s Judaism and says he can’t take her to a fellowship meeting without first discussing it with her mother. Indeed, when Mia is so frustrated about the situation back home that she says he doesn’t want to be Jewish, it is her grandmother that tells her it would be a shame to let all her beautiful traditions go to waste. Mia learns that her grandmother had her own traditions taken from her in a boarding school that “re-educated” Native American children. It was therefore particularly moving for me to read this same woman encouraging her granddaughter to explore both parts of her rich cultural heritage.

Thanks to the trip, Mia meets her cousins, participates in a pow wow and forms a stronger relationship with her father, but when the truth about her visit comes out both her mother and her father both feel betrayed. It is fitting then, that resolution comes in the form of Judaism’s ultimate guide to repentance -the book of Jonah. Through studying Jonah, Mia learns how to repair the relationship between herself and her mother and how to mediate between her parents so she can experience both aspects of her heritage. She also finds the ability to make her voice heard and teaches something to the Rabbi who inadvertently hurt her in the beginning of the book with his comments. It’s a touching scene that shows none of us is above learning from the other. 

Often the voices we most need to hear are the ones we are in such a rush to speak over. Therefore, while I’m thrilled to share my experience of this book with you, I would much rather let it speak for itself. Pick up a copy and see what it has to show you. You just might be surprised. 

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There is one universal piece of writing advice that just about everyone agrees on: do not read your reviews. It is a one way ticket to despair – one star reviews for shipping damage, not getting reviews at all, and direct assaults against the writer – are all sadly common. But the real crux of the matter is that these are reader spaces and the writer just doesn’t belong in them unless invited. As a reader, I enjoy poking around reviews and am much more easily able to discard the egregious ones. When browsing some early reviews (trade and public) for Mari Lowe’s sophomore effort The Dubious Pranks of Shaindy Goodman, I found they highlighted exactly why such a book is needed.

Lowe has once again set her book in an ultra orthodox Jewish community, just as she did for her debut Aviva and the Dybbuk. The reviews – which are largely complimentary- display how very little most readers know about this population. There was confusion about why kids loved rollerblading so much, comments both pro and anti the time spent on religious exposition, and an overall fascination by the schooling system. As someone familiar with ultra orthodox Judaism, none of those things surprised me at all or even seemed worthy of comment. What did surprise me was seeing that reviewers thought all the characters were white, whereas several of them read as potentially sephardic or mizrahi Jews of color to me. Perhaps I just have a more broad view of orthodox communities.

Ultra orthodox communities restrict the use of cell phones and email. There is extremely limited access to TV or video games in Shaindy’s milieu. She, and children like her, need something to do. This is why rollerblading is very much alive and well in these communities. Similarly, an exploration of Jewish repentance is necessary exposition because it is so wildly different from the Christian version. Thanks to Christian hegemony we are all familiar with phrases like “Jesus died for our sins,” or the way a third act grovel works in a typical romance novel. However, Jewish repentance requires not just regret and forgiveness from God, it also demands the acquisition of forgiveness from the harmed individuals and concrete steps towards reparative action or a refusal to commit the sin again in a similar situation.

It is crucial the reader approach the book with that knowledge because repentance becomes truly necessary for Shaindy. She has long been the subject of benign neglect by her classmates and is thrilled to be given attention by her popular neighbor Gayil, even if it means assisting in a series of increasingly distressing pranks. Not only is Shaindy uncomfortable with the effects these pranks are having on the other girls, she begins to fear the fall out for herself. There’s a nice twist I won’t ruin, but let’s just say that as the holiday of repentance – Yom Kippur- approaches, Shaindy is in a position to both forgive and be forgiven. 

Orthodox readers will enjoy rolling their eyes right along with Gayil when the school principle gives a speech comparing Jewish student to Princesses and insisting they behave with a commensurate level of decorum. Seriously – that line has been going around since time immemorial and has very much lost its effectiveness in this age of democracy. Yet principles still insist on using it. It also has some visible effects on Gayil who suffers under the constant demands for perfection in a community where ones reputation is everything. I loved the descriptions of a community where “kids rule the streets” and a shul can be found on every other block. General public readers will sink right into Shaindy’s internal journey. Who doesn’t want to be recognized by their classmates? Who wouldn’t want attention from the most popular girl in school? Shaindy’s accessible emotional landsacpe will provide an easy inlet for anyone into this new world.

It is in the character of Gayil where I felt things coming apart a little. Since we cannot spend any time in her head – I realize this is necessary due to the nature of the plot twists – Gayil comes across as quite possibly sociopathic. I don’t believe all character in a book, even a MG book, need to have a tidy arc of repentance and improvement. Nor will they necessarily suffer consequences for their actions. The world doesn’t work that way. However, the reader is asked to have some sympathy for Gayil and it is really hard to do so. Her actions were not mistakes. They took meticulous planning and Gayil shows almost no remorse for the harm she has caused. Her only move towards reconciliation comes when she is threatened, and her actions are way out of proportion to the offenses she perceives herself as having received. I was proud of Shaindy for how she ended the book but I was thoroughly confused by Gayil. Perhaps she needs her own sequel.

At this point, I would be remiss if I did not point out that once again, Lowe has slayed me with her dedication. Before I even opened the book I felt like I was both seen and given an insight into the authors’ humor and grace. She addresses sixth graders everywhere with the old Hebrew adage “Gam Zeh Yaavor,” which loosely translates to “this too shall pass.” I laughed until I cried. Only a teacher and Jewish school graduate could truly understand how much kids in that awkwardly difficult year need those words of wisdom, how huge every difficulty seems at that time, and how trivial they now seem in the lens of hindsight. I will echo her sentiments. To all my readers currently struggling- this too shall pass, and as the book shows, there is the potential for all your mistakes to be forgiven. 

Ultra orthodox communities have their own printing presses and publishing imprints. I have enjoyed stories like this one printed there. However, in bravely taking her words to a mainstream publisher Lowe once again shows that our stories are valuable to the world. That Jewish themes like forgiveness and reparative action are universal. It’s good that reviewers are both confused and delighted by this, because we are a confusing and delightful people. I look forward to Lowe’s next work where I can once again feel seen.

BookishlyJewish received a physical arc of this book from the publisher after we wrote in to request one from the publisher.

Find It: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

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At first blush, A Man Lies Dreaming by Lavie Tidhar is not the type of book one turns to for comfort and inspiration in times of need. I describe it as “pulpy but with Holocaust features.” Not exactly the stuff of Hallmark movies. Going in, I prepared for a rough ride. Having read some of Tidhar’s short fiction before, and struggled with it, I was expecting shock value, an exploration of the erotization of travesty, and to be slightly disgusted by every single character. What I failed to anticipate was that this book would force me to rethink everything I knew to be fundamental about humanity.

The story is told in two alternating timelines. The first, where we spend the bulk of our time, involves an alternate history in which the Nazis never fully rose to power and Hitler is a refugee turned detective in an increasingly xenophobic London. He is hired to find a missing Jewish girl, encounters the usual gumshoe obstacles including a lot of grotesque violence directed towards him, and along the way is framed for the murder of numerous prostitutes.

In the second timeline we follow Shomer, a writer of the Jewish pulp novels known as shund, who is currently an inmate of Auschwitz. While this story line is certainly gory, the voice is fundamentally different from the pulp of the other timeline. It is the voice of a truth so abhorrent it can never be equaled by fiction. It is also the story of how people survived and processed this reality.

There is a featured debate between two Auschwitz prisoners about how to record these events. Most readers familiar with Holocaust literature will recognize them as stand ins for Eli Wiesel and Ka-Tzetnik 135633, survivors who later documented the Holocaust in their own unique ways. Shomer finds a different solution to this problem – inventing his own world to help his mind escape the physical horrors his body is enduring. It is a world with the distinctivelly pulp voice of shund, in which Hitler is a washed up detective.

The connection between the timelines is wonderfully spun, but it is not what I found so captivating about this book. I was indeed grossed out by many portions of the Hitler narrative. It is violent, full of ugly sex and unspeakable acts of humiliation and torture. My stomach turned numerous times and only later did I recall that the victim is in fact Hitler. This ability to force the reader into radical empathy for the worst possible human ever to exist, was the true brilliance of the work for me. We are made to watch our own revenge porn through the eyes of the original aggressor. And we do not like the picture that results.

I know what you’re thinking. So what if Hitler had a bad day? Cry me a river. But hear me out.

I admit, it is extremely repugnant to spend any time in that man’s head, hearing his vitriol towards Jews while he shows zero self awareness despite similar hate directed towards him by radical political parties rising to power around him. You will be made to feel guilty for finding it relatable and funny when he goes after the publisher that is quashing his artistic ambitions. However, this is necessary to bring the reader to a conclusion about the purpose of empathy and kindness. They are not for the benefit of the recipient, but rather for the rest of us, lest we lose our own humanity. Our feelings of revulsion at the violence committed against another human are there to remind us that these things should not be done. Even if that victim is the worst possible human ever to exist.

We live in an age where thanks to social media political ideals are rapidly turned into diatribes against individual humans. For example,the laudable idea of wealth equality somehow becomes lovingly detailed social media posts about the abduction, torture and cannibalism of named billionaires and their families. We, the global ‘we’ including Jews and gentiles alike, dehumanize people under the banner of various ideologies. We make life cheap in service of our lofty goals and revenge fantasies. In doing so, we lose our own humanity.

I found myself identifying with Shomer. There’s a reason I favor Jewish space ship stories – they allow me to envision a planet on which there is no antisemitism. A future in which being a Jew does not have to mean being immediately demonized and misunderstood. Likewise, Shomer has created an entire fictional world in which he can meet out justice to his oppressors and escape his ghastly present. As a master of shund, the world he creates is visceral and captivating, the perfect escapism. Yet, as a writer, this book showed me I could also aim for more.

For all my appreciation of Shomer, it is Tidhar’s writing that I want to emulate right now. I want to force the reader to walk in the shoes of even those they find most vile and still dredge up some empathy from their hearts. That is not just the work of a master author, but a master human, who realizes that we need those feelings to find within ourselves the means to move on. That only through living the other can we, all of us, as a human nation stop committing horrific violence against one another and justifying it the same way Hitler did – with political ideology and radicalization of both the left and the right.

It is a dream of mine that someday perhaps a person who views Jews as the root of all evil might pick up one of my works and realize that we are just people the same as they are. Maybe through reading we can learn to think of one another as complex, living, breathing, beings that are more precious than whatever the trendy ideology of the day is. Perhaps we can learn to value human life above all else, including our old wounds and hurts.

A Man Lies Dreaming is not pretty, but to me it was profoundly moving. It celebrates the power of the mind to triumph over the physical and took me on a journey that probed my deepest and most shameful places so that I could emerge with a new understanding of what it means to be a Jew and a human in this world at this time. For me, that encapsulates the ability to experience despair while still finding hope, to survive the unthinkable, and to move on with my humanity intact.

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Find It: GoodReads | Bookshop | Amazon

Our last Sukkah guest, J.S. Fields, has worked with a variety of independent presses and has some really great advice for writers on how to find your own sweet spot. Plus, there’s talk of wooden spaceships!

BookishlyJewish: Can you talk about how you ended up with your publisher? What influenced your choice to publish with a small press?

J.S. Fields: I’d been published a while in nonfiction before heading to fiction. During the very first DVPit I was offered a contract with Ninestar Press, which published my first few books. Recently I’ve switched over to Space Wizard and have been very happy with the choice. The royalty rates are the best in the business as far as I know, I can buy books at cost to sell at conventions, and the press does decent marketing.

I did have an agent for a while and, as I noted before, have published with mid-sized presses. I really like small press for the flexibility and the better royalty rates. I don’t need to sell 10,000 copies to pay the mortgage with small press. I can write for my little niche of readers and still buy groceries. In that same vein though I have no interest in doing layout and editing myself, or wrangling cover artists, or doing my own marketing. So I needed at least some sort of publisher. I think finding the right fit in small press really worked for me.

BookishlyJewish: What is it like to work with a small press? Any surprises along the way?

J.S. Fields: When I first started with small press I was surprised at how much being able to buy books at cost mattered. Previously I could only get them at 40% off list, and when you have a $12 book, you have to sell hundreds to make back your booth at a convention. Learning how to negotiate book costs, royalty rates, these were big learning curves. 

BookishlyJewish: What’s your writing process like? Pantser or plotter?

J.S. Fields: I am 100% a pantser. I hold interviews in my head for characters and then get to work writing. This means I delete over half of what I write, but I enjoy exploring worlds and characters, so this doesn’t bother me.

I’ve tried to outline and all that happens is I quickly diverge from the outline. What sounded good one day doesn’t work the next. I have to write where the characters are in that moment, which means outlines tend to just be a waste of otherwise useful writing time.

BookishlyJewish: Many of your books have interesting takes on gender and sexuality. I’m particularly intrigued by your newest release, QUEEN, and the incredible description of the female-only planet where no one is allowed to leave. Can you talk a little about your inspiration for this book?

J.S. Fields: Both my mother and one of my aunts are staunch feminists so I grew up reading a lot of the surrounding literature. This was, of course, all white and heteronormative. A few years back my aunt sent me a copy of Herland, which is a 1915 feminist utopia novel with an all-women colony where reproduction occurs via pathogenesis. The story is told from the perspective of a few men who stumble upon the colony.

I cannot tell you how utterly enraged I was at this book. Everyone is white. Everyone is beautiful. These women have no interest in sex, not just with men, but with each other. I…cannot. The amount of erasure is absolutely exhausting. This book haunted me. It haunted me for years as I hunted up more and more ‘all-women’ media and decided that most of it was just exclusionary garbage. Not a feminism I want to be attached to.

In response I wrote Queen, a future dystopian sci fi where Earth is toast and the world governments populated new planets more or less thematically. Queen is a barren wasteland world where they dumped all the problem women—where woman meant someone with a vulva. The main character is intersex (as am I), having the right external features to get exiled to Queen, and still coming to terms with what womanhood might mean for her (or not mean). There’s adventure and science and giant beetles and thousands of bunnies, sure, but there’s also a flagrant rebuttal to 1900s all-women utopia books, too. And the women have a lot of sex.

Take that, Herland

BookishlyJewish: What are you hoping readers take away from your work?

J.S. Fields: Mostly I aim for inclusion and escapism. I want my work to be fun, adventurous. I want it to be like your favorite sci-fi serial, but one you can easily see yourself in. I want people to finish one of my books with a smile, then maybe have to sit for a minute with themes they didn’t realize they’d absorbed.

BookishlyJewish: Do you have a favorite memory or highlight you can share about being a published author?

J.S. Fields: The first time a fan came up to me at WorldCon (Ireland). Wow. She just…flagged me through a crowd. She’d read all my work. She loved it. She said something like “Thank you all you do for the gays” then disappeared amongst the surge of people. 

Thousands of people at that convention and I had a fan.

BookishlyJewish: I can’t help but notice that you are a scientist and that you make chainmail by hand. This is so fascinating! Does any of that influence your writing?

J.S. Fields: The chainmail doesn’t, because that is a pain in the ass. There is, however, a ton of science in my work. My Ardulum series, which is generally space opera, actually has a fair amount of hard science buried in it. I love being able to weave my field of science—wood science!—into a genre that usually relies on physics and engineering. 

No one expects wooden spaceships!

BookishlyJewish: Has SFF always been your intended genre or do you write in other genres too? What draws you to this particular genre?

J.S. Fields: This is definitely my genre. I grew up watching old sci fi serials late at night with my mother. Not just the standard Star Trek and Babylon Five, but the one season failures, like M.A.N.T.I.S., Time Trax, and VR-5. And Highlander. Oh goodness was such a Highlander fan. I got the catalogs. Mom and I got all the VHS boxed sets and agonized over our free gifts. I have a Highlander bathrobe. I treasure it.

BookishlyJewish: Any words of advice for writers just starting out?

J.S. Fields: I get contacted pretty frequently by new writers who can’t figure out how to get their book published. 9.9/10 times they’ve never had anyone but their family read the work. When you’re just starting out you really need either a critique group or a really good developmental editor. It has nothing to do with your skill and more with learning how the publishing game is played. Once you’ve got a few books under your belt you can break all the rules you want. But you have to know the rules to break them, and there are formulas that sell and those that don’t. Hedge your bets. Get that first book into not just readable but sellable shape. Get that contract. Sell a bunch of copies. Then write your magnum opus. 

BookishlyJewish: I always end by asking if you have a favorite Jewish book

J.S. Fields: I love Lilah Tov.

This is one of my kid’s favorite books. Even though they’re well past picture book stage, the artwork and emotions in this book pack a punch. It’s beautiful, heart wrenching, but so full of hope. We read it maybe once a month still, right before sleep, and think of how nice it is to snuggle in bed with a lovingly family and safe home.

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J.S. Fields’ Bio:

J.S. Fields (@Galactoglucoman) is a scientist who has perhaps spent too much time around organic solvents. They enjoy roller derby, woodturning, making chainmail by hand, and cultivating fungi in the backs of minivans. Nonbinary, and yes, it matters.

Fields has lived in Thailand, Ireland, Canada, USA, and spent extensive time in many more places. Their current research takes them to the Peruvian Amazon rainforest each summer, where they traumatizes students with machetes and tangarana ants while looking for rare pigmenting fungi. They live with their partner and child, and a very fabulous lionhead rabbit named Merlin.

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Find It:

Queen: Goodreads | Amazon

Ardulum – First Don: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

I almost passed out when Elijah Kinch Spector volunteered to be interviewed for indie week. His book, Kalyna The Soothsayer, was published by Erewhon press and was one of my favorite reads of last year. Despite my epic fangirling, Elijah still managed to provide witty and insightful answers about identity in writing, balancing humor and tension, and why Kalyna’s grandmother is the way she is.

BookishlyJewish: I remember reading the afterword for SOOTHSAYER and thinking to myself this was a book you had worked on for a while. What was it like to finally see her out in the world?

Elijah Kinch Spector: Surreal, euphoric, and a little frightening. To me, someone reading my fiction actually feels more revealing than someone reading, say, an autobiographical essay. Autobiography tells you my version of events in my life; fiction tells you how I think and what I prioritize. (This may be doubly true for a writer who creates an entirely new world to set their story in.) That vulnerability is part of what’s intoxicating about putting art out into the world, and it’s also absolutely fucking terrifying.

BookishlyJewish: How has the process of writing the second book differed from the first, now that there is a publication deadline?

Elijah Kinch Spector: Everyone I’ve talked to says the second book is really hard, and everyone is right. But in some ways, the edits are easier this time around, because I’m still fundamentally the same person I was when I started the book in 2021.

SOOTHSAYER, by contrast, had a decade’s worth of drafts and revisions, which can feel like—and I’m going to quote myself here, sorry—”a disconcerting palimpsest that exposes a hundred different people you used to be, or almost were.”

BookishlyJewish: I just have to put it out there that Kalyna’s  grandmother is maybe the worst human I have ever encountered. The literal worst. How did you come up with this fascinating character?

Elijah Kinch Spector: At first, I just thought it would be darkly funny. It can be very cathartic, and fun, to write a character who just says the meanest shit in the world. She’s also a villain in the story that Kalyna can’t just stab, and in fact has to live with, which is a great obstacle to give your protagonist.

Grandmother is also a sort of grotesque exaggeration of the family member with absurdly high expectations for you, whom you consistently disappoint. (Something that I think a lot of Jews, and many others, can relate to.)

BookishlyJewish: Your writing, for me, had a combination of both exciting action and really hilarious moments. Sometimes with the hilarious moments coming DURING the tense action sequences. How did you balance this?

Elijah Kinch Spector: I think small funny or awkward moments that puncture the tension, and show how ridiculous everyone is, can actually make the violence feel more messy and human—more real. But I tried to interrupt the tension without stopping the momentum: it usually isn’t believable, for example, when someone rattles off a long, involved insult in the middle of fighting for their life, but it’s very plausible that someone in a swordfight might slip and fall on their ass. (And then maybe fart?)

BookishlyJewish: With books that are this twisty and full of political intrigue I often wonder if the writer knows the ending from the start or if they discover it along the way and smooth things out during revisions. Are you a plotter or pantser and how did you manage to achieve such a level of layered complexity?

Elijah Kinch Spector; Oh boy, pantser all the way, to my great detriment. I had vague ideas of where things would go, but pretty much figured it out as I went. (And not just the plot, the worldbuilding too.) It took a lot of editing to make it work, and there are whole characters and factions that were cut or added (or both) over the years.

BookishlyJewish: I was also really intrigued by the physical layout of SOOTHSAYER, with the chapter lengths being incredibly variable, and sometimes if they were only a paragraph or two, they appeared on the same page. Plus the cast of characters at the beginning which gave us just enough to entice us about so many of the characters. Did the book always look this way, and if not, how did it evolve to its current state?

Elijah Kinch Spector: The list of characters was an idea my editor, Sarah Guan, had after the book was done. And it was a good one: there are a lot of people in this thing!

The varying chapters were there from the beginning: I thought it made sense as the way Kalyna would organize her thoughts. Much, much later, I realized the structure is also due to my (at the time) undiagnosed ADHD. This goes back to the vulnerability of fiction: that structure is pretty much how my brain works, and now anyone can see it.

BookishlyJewish: Can you talk about the pros and cons of working with a small/independent press? Were there any surprises for you?

Elijah Kinch Spector: Naturally, a small press doesn’t have the PR money that a major publisher does, but a major publisher won’t spend that money on all of its authors, either. Erewhon Books—and especially their marketing manager, Marty Cahill—gives every author so much attention and care. I’m sure I got to do more press for the book than I would have as an unknown debuting at a big publisher.

BookishlyJewish: How has life changed now that your book is out in the world, and receiving such great reviews?

Elijah Kinch Spector: In the times between doing lots of press, my life is pretty much unchanged. Except that once the book was out I thought to myself, with great satisfaction, “Well! That’s a line in my obituary sorted.”

BookishlyJewish: Some of my readers are surprised when I review second world fantasy and decide that the characters are Jewish coded, but it is one of my favorite genres. Do you feel Judaism seeps into your books, and if yes, is this on purpose or accidental?

Elijah Kinch Spector: Oh God yes, both purposefully and accidentally. There are technically no Jews in Soothsayer, but the book is so Jewish I used to worry that gentiles wouldn’t like it. Kalyna is definitely Jewish coded, but she’s also coded to a lot of other things, which is why I love secondary world fantasy: it doesn’t have to map directly onto our current ideas of identity.

But, to be clear, “Jew” is my number one identity signifier by a mile, and that’s reflected in everything I write (and think, and say, and do).

BookishlyJewish: I always end by asking if you have a favorite Jewish book.

Elijah Kinch Spector: Favorite is hard, but I’ll mention one that brought me a lot of joy: Radiant Days, Haunted Nights is a collection of Yiddish folk literature translated and edited by Joachim Neugroschel.The whole book’s great, but I want to talk about the anonymous, 18th century story “A History, or A Moral Tale: About Wondrous Events in the Life of a Young Knight Sir Gawain, Whose Tale Reveals the Workings of Divine Providence.”

Yes, it’s a Yiddish King Arthur story. One that never acknowledges Christianity or England. For example, it tells us that King Arthur’s court was in “a very mighty and beautiful city, which he had built on the shores of the sea. And that was why he named it Arthurstown.” Who didn’t spend their childhood pretending to be a valiant knight of Arthurstown?

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Elijah’s bio: Elijah Kinch Spector is a writer, dandy, and rootless cosmopolitan from the Bay Area who now lives in Brooklyn. His first novel, Kalyna the Soothsayer, was shortlisted for a British Fantasy Award, and received acclaim from NPR, Nerds of a Feather, Tor.com, Foreword, and Paste Magazine, among others. A sequel, Kalyna the Cutthroat, is expected in 2024.

Find It:

Kalyna The Soothsayer: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Kalyna The Cutthroat: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

I was really impressed by the range of genres and authors signing up for this Sukkot indie week. Hilary Zaid is the first literary writer I’ve interviewed for the blog and it was a delight! Read on to learn more about small press, writing plots that just so happen to be extremely timely, and the wonders of cake.

Bookishly Jewish: Can you describe your publishing journey and how you ended up with your publisher?

Hilary Zaid: FORGET I TOLD YOU THIS is my second novel. You might think that the publishing journey gets easier the second time around, but sometimes it’s just like starting over! I was looking for a new agent, which can be a very long process, when I happened to receive my weekly email from The Practicing Writer, a wonderful and expansive list of opportunities for writers curated by Dr. Erika Dreifus (who also curates a list of Jewish literary links). I saw a call for manuscripts from a new, LGBTQ+ imprint of the University of Nebraska Press, Zero Street Fiction. I was intrigued. It felt like a perfect fit. Knowing that manuscript submissions can take a very long time to process, I decided to submit, while continuing my agent querying process. I couldn’t have been more surprised to hear from Timothy Schaffert at Zero Street not too long after, telling me that he loved my book and wanted to publish it.

BookishlyJewish: What is it like working with a small press?

Hilary Zaid: This is my second book with a small press, and small presses are great. I think overall there’s more of a sense of a shared project that has to do with the love of a book, rather than just an attempt to make money out of a product that happens to be a book. (I’m sure that most of the people working at Big 5 publishers also love books! But the Profit & Loss statement is real. And now one of the Big 5 is being taking over by a hedge fund, so…)

BookishlyJewish: FORGET I TOLD YOU THIS feels very timely both in terms of the theme of ghosts and the big data/social media presence in the book. Did this happen organically or did real life events inspire the book?

Hilary Zaid: Well, writing novels takes a lot of time, so I would never want to write one with the intention of hitting just the right moment. On the other hand, you are so right! FORGET I TOLD YOU THIS is grappling with Big Data and the role of AI at a moment when these concerns are very much in the news. That timeliness is just luck. But, when I started writing the novel seven years ago, concerns about data privacy and surveillance capitalism were very much on my mind as a growing concern. 

I think when you’re writing contemporary fiction that engages with social issues, there’s always a tension between choosing the moment in which the book is set and watching events play out in the real world, in the news. My first novel, PAPER IS WHITE, which is set in the late 90s and which was written in the early 2000s, is about the legacy of Holocaust survivors and the future of marriage equality. As I was writing that novel, survivors were getting old and dying and marriage equality was all over the place in the news. It was a bit of a white knuckler!

BookishlyJewish: What has been the biggest surprise for you on this journey?

Hilary Zaid: For my book launch at the JCC East Bay in Berkeley, we had a huge cake with the book cover on it and —not gonna lie— having cake leftover all weekend was pretty sweet. They call it a “book birthday” but it’s a bit more like a “B mitzvah,” is it not? I still miss opening the freezer and finding cake.

BookishlyJewish: I notice you have published work in Lilith, a wonderful Jewish feminist publication. How does being Jewish inform your writing, if at all?

Hilary Zaid: SO MUCH!!!!! I feel like you’re asking a goldfish “How does water inform your worldview?” Right? I am a Reform Jew of the largely cultural variety, but that cultural worldview informs everything. Amy, the protagonist and narrator of FORGET I TOLD YOU THIS, is much more conflicted in her Jewish identity than I am, much more uncertain about whether it’s hers to claim. But the worldview in which she has been created — the lens on the world reflected in the novel— is very Jewish.

BookishlyJewish: What do you hope readers take away from your work?

Hilary Zaid: I hope readers come away from FORGET I TOLD YOU THIS with a closer relationship to the world we live in — both a clearer eye on the challenges we face, and also an enriched sense that the everyday world we live in is magical, if you’re paying attention.

BookishlyJewish: I always end by asking if you have a favorite Jewish Book

Hilary Zaid: I recently answered this question in Hey, Alma with one of my all-time favorite books ever, Laurie Colwin’s Goodbye Without Leaving. I love it as a piece of writing, and I love it more and more for the way in which it is Jewish—which is not apparently Jewish at all.

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Hilary’s bio: Hilary Zaid has been a Tennessee Williams Scholar at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, a James D. Houston Fellow at the Community of Writers and two-time attendee of Tin House Writers’ Workshop. Her work has appeared in Mother Jones, Ecotone, Day One,Lilith and elsewhere. Long-listed for the 2018 Northern California Independent Booksellers’ Award for Fiction, her novel Paper is White is a 2018 Foreword Indies silver medalist and the winner of the 2018 Independent Publishers’ Book Awards (IPPY) in LGBT+ Fiction. Her novel Forget I Told You This, is the inaugural winner of the Barbara DiBernard Award.

Find Hilary’s Books:

Forgot I Told You This: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Paper is White: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon