New Jewish year, new books by Jewish authors!

The new Jewish year is marked this time around with several new book releases that have me very excited:

1) After being mesmerized by The World to Come and In the Image, I can’t wait to read Dara Horn’s newest, A Guide for the Perplexed, which was officially published today. An essay by the author appeared in The New York Times this week, reminding of the book’s release. The topic was the role of memory in literature — particularly in Jewish literature — which Horn tied to Rosh Hashanah. (The holiday falls later this week, and it’s also known as “The Day of Remembrance.”) Her new novel reportedly draws on this theme as it follows two contemporary characters obsessed with the work of the Rambam.

in the courtyard of the kabbalist

Ruchama King Feuerman’s latest, just out

2) Ruchama King Feuerman’s In the Courtyard of the Kabbalist follows an assortment of characters in Jerusalem. I’m very blessed that the author has sent me an advance copy — a review here on the blog will be forthcoming. I was a big fan of her last book, Seven Blessings, as well as some of her more recent, shorter work. Feuerman has been called “a Jewish Jane Austen,” probably because her character portraits so marvelously balance positive and negative qualities. I’m already a few dozen pages in to the new book and really getting into it. For a recent review, see here.

3) Ofir Touche Gafla’s The World of the End will soon be published in English. Continue reading

Even turtles have to poke their heads out sometimes

What makes Jewish literature Jewish?

In theory, I’m on vacation, make that staycation, with my kids and not posting. However, in the last week, two authors I respect both posted on a topic I’ve contemplated before: what is Jewish literature? Their ideas were both useful and inspirational. It’s worth reading the posts. You can read Libi Astaire’s post here and Erika Dreifus’s here.

On a related note, after a short hiatus, Tablet has started posting fiction again. I’m wondering if the complaints about whether their previous stories were examples of Jewish literature had an effect — both the recent pieces have been translations of Israeli authors.

Pesach Limericks for Maggid (because I need a break from my kitchen right now)

pyramid of giza, exodus

On the way outta there!

Many of us have memories of childhood seders. Even when the memories are fond ones (like these shared recently by Jessica Soffer on the Prosen People blog), we were often confused by the Maggid section of the Haggadah. I’ve pried myself from the kitchen to share some wacky Passover poetry to read a the seder during Maggid, hoping it’ll help.

Chag kasher v’sameach, chaverim! (“Have a kosher and joyous holiday, friends!”) Continue reading

Believe it or not! Writing reality that’s stranger than fiction

Tablet just published a personal essay about my grandfather.  Please check it out. (And share, and like, and comment!)

Passover seder has been a bit spooky (in a good way) for me ever since childhood, when my sister and I were convinced Elijah the Prophet was none other than the Bogey Man.

And then we had a real ethereal visitor during Pesach.

It’s one of those stories that you tell and people think you are making it up. I probably would have thought that it was a figment of my imagination if my husband hadn’t recalled the event, as well. I feel a little more confident about the subject matter now, too, since the daughter of Rabbi Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg (zt”l) described a similar encounter by her parents in a recent issue of Binah Magazine. 

Have you ever written a piece of non-fiction about something readers might not believe is possible?

Seeing the world through a writer’s eyes

I’ve been thinking a little bit more about my theme of a couple posts ago, “how to be funny.”

jester

A good jester will find humor in any situation, not just those that are obviously funny.

One of the steps to writing funny is seeing funny all around you. You can look at almost any situation and find something funny in it if you relax and try to experience it through calm, judgment-free observation.

A few months ago, someone (it might have been Erika Dreifus) pointed out this opinion piece by Silas House in the N.Y. Times:

We are a people who are forever moving, who do not have enough hours in the day, but while we are trying our best to be parents and partners, employees and caregivers, we must also remain writers.

There is no way to learn how to do this except by simply doing it. We must use every moment we can to think about the piece of writing at hand, to see the world through the point of view of our characters, to learn everything we can that serves the writing. We must notice details around us, while also blocking diversions and keeping our thought processes focused on our current poem, essay or book.

This way of being must be something that we have to turn off instead of actively turn on. It must be the way we live our lives.

Some people take this kind of remote observation a bit far. Silas House argues that the majority of a writer’s mind should be working on literary pursuits at any given time. I’d disagree. I try to turn this part of my brain off on Shabbat, during conversations with loved ones, and on date night, too. The key is not to remove yourself entirely from life around you, but to be able to see it calmly with a portion of your mind at will.

But that doesn’t mean that when on a stroll with my kids and I’m admiring your garden that I’m not noting which flowers are in bloom at this season so I can work them into the setting of my work in progress.

There’s a story Continue reading