"In Jewish Tradition, it is a mitzvah, a good deed, to invite those who are traveling or without a seder. For one night everyone is mishpucha - family."

So I've avoided this post for a while because every time I go to write it, I come off as a crazy person.....kind of like when I debated sending a "support" letter to Britney Spears when she was at her most......unstable. I thought surely, this was the right time to swoop in and become her best friend; get her back on track, you know? But, I could never get the tone right and would come off as a psycho fan who had Hit Me Baby One More Time and Gimme More posters lining her walls.

Dear Britney,
I  love you. I really think we could be best friends. You should really think about getting your shit together.......

Dear Britney,
We should hang out some time.....

Dear Britney,
I'm nuts....

Anyway, I say this because I don't want you to think I'm crazy. Or that I'm being ironic when I say that I love Jewish people. No, I don't have posters of Moses and Woody Allen lining my walls, but I do have a great appreciation for everything that has to do with those I affectionately refer to as the Chosen People. And I apologize in advance if I offend you with my flippant language but rest assured my affection is genuine.

Whenever I meet someone who is Jewish, I am star-of-David-struck. "You're Jewish? Oh my G_d, I love the Jews!" which then prompts the cocked head, inquisitive brow look, "Are you Jewish?" at which point I answer,"Me? *disappointed sigh* No. I love Jesus.....But he was a Jew too, so....." which I follow with a noncommittal shrug.


I don't know where this love comes from. My cousin, A,  is Jewish, and she's pretty much one of the funniest and kindest people I know, so maybe it stemmed from there. Like most Jews, she's been given the gift of story-telling and humor. When we get together, besides the constant playful jabs at each others' religious affiliations, she will have the entire room in stitches, tears streaming down our faces, stomachs aching from our constant giggles due to detailed accounts of her hilariously unique adventures. Unique in that only she would be accosted by a rabbi on her way to class so she could participate in some random Jewish holiday involving a pineapple and a wooden cane. Or only she would get locked out of her yeshiva (in Israel) on a Friday because she forgot that on shabbos they disable the electronic gate; and just as she's hiked up her skirt to try and climb up the wall (a no-no where all the girls are basically dressed like Amish women), the rabbi comes out of the darkness and gently prompts her to freeze in a running man position with a, "Good evening, my child."  Or only she would come home to an unexpected order of a Costco-sized box of KY jelly to go with her new Ab FlexBelt. I don't know why these things happen to her, but I have faith that they definitely have something to do with her being Jewish. :)


Not only is she my favorite Jewish cousin, but she has spoiled me with her encouragement towards my Gentile curiosity. I must confess though, this kind of freedom has made me forget that sometimes my interactions with her may seem.....offensive (?) to other Jews who don't know that my love for their culture is pure. However, rest assured that I do try to keep my chutzpah to a minimum.

Anyway, when I was at a used book fair, I saw this lime green treasure peeking out from the pile and had to have it. The Matzo Ball Heiress by Laurie Gwen Shapiro. Chick-lit and matzo? L'chiam! 

Reasons why I loved it:


Yiddish - check
Self-deprecating Jewish humor - check
Hot Jewish men - check
Girlfriend with the last name Hitler - check


What else could a Jew-loving shiska ask for? Baruch hashem, let the hilarity ensue!

Austen meets Book meets Girl

Confession: When I was in high school I was a bona-fide theater nerd. I loved singing and acting (sometimes dancing, even though I can't dance to save my life, unless booty dancing is legit, and if that's the case I should probably join the New York City Ballet).

I loved the costumes, the makeup, the incestuous camaraderie and most of all, I loved the moment right before the lights came up for the first scene.

First, the audience members shift quietly in their seats, people backstage frantically whisper to each other on their headphones and make sure everyone is in place, and you stand there trying to remember your first line. But then the atmosphere changes, always just seconds before the bright lights illuminate the stage and bring you to life; the audience settles, those people backstage pause and you all take in one deep, collective breath.

ACTION!

I think that's why I liked this book so much. It kind of reminded me of being on stage; getting to transform into a different person, creating layers and diving into an alternate world.

When Jane Hayes' great-aunt dies, she leaves Jane an all-expense paid trip to a resort in England where she leaves her modern crap behind and immerses into an Austen world; trading in her cellphone for a trunk full of empire waist dresses. Jane realizes that this is her last chance to find her Mr. Darcy before she tucks that fantastic dream away forever.

Those who work at the resort are actors paid to deliver the most authentic Austen experience. At first this place seems like a dream come true, Jane's last hurrah before turning over a new Darcy-free leaf; however, we all know how that ends. Jane of course falls for the wrong guy, when the right one is right under her nose! It's one of those really frustrating chick-lit books that you know who she should (and will eventually) end up with, but she still does not heed your telepathic advice.

I always find that when I read these "predictable" books, I am torn between knowing that in the end everything will work out the way it should and wanting the ending to surprise me and be drastically different. The most annoying thing is that the action always happens in the last 100-50 pages and the really important part, a.k.a when the two people finally realize they love each other and need to jump through a million hoops to reach one another, takes place within the last 10-5 pages. I can't help having a love-hate relationship with this chick-lit template. I love knowing that there will be a happy ending, but what happens after they make out at the airport? Do they get married? Does he turn out to be a douche-bag?

We don't get to see the real part. The part after the honeymoon months....but maybe that's the point. These books are meant to help you escape the mundane, every-day seriousness that is real life, right?

The one that got away?

Thank goodness that my reader's block went away! I thought I was seriously broken!

You ever wonder about the one that got away? Honestly, if you say no, everyone knows that you're lying, unless you married your first love and you are one of thooooose people ;)

The first book I read by Harriet Evans was Hopeless Romantic. Her writing style was similar to that of Sophie Kinsella's and it was one of those books that gives you that extra spring in your step because it reminds you that love is possible and waiting at the turn of every corner.

The Love of Her Life was exactly the kind of book that I needed to get me back in the reading ring. It was full of love, mix-ups, self-deprecation and secret trysts. Yes, I know these books are predictable and some may say shallow. But don't you remember the days when you would day dream about fairy tales and really think that prince charming was going to come and sweep you off your feet? So, why not bring a little of that magic back into your adult life? I know I'm tired of the cynicism that comes with age regarding love.

Being 20-something, we're bombarded with new ideals on how love should be, how we should meet, how we should act, how we should live, etc. Why can't we stop texting and emailing and facebooking and barhopping long enough to jolt a little romantic magic into our lives? Even if it is through fiction. I am not saying we should stop everything, hole up into our reading nooks and never come out because we'll never meet anyone like the guys in the books. All I'm saying is that sometimes I feel like romance is low on the list of thing we look for nowadays.

Maybe I'm wrong, and should listen to my sister when she tells me that I won't find the guy of my dreams by bumping into him in a bookstore or spilling coffee on him at a Starbucks. Maybe I should just suck it up, buy a slutty Halloween costume, pay the $25-$50 cover charge and prowl Manhattan on Oct. 31st like the rest of my co-eds.

Am I expecting too much or too little?

"One of the great disadvantages of hurry is that it takes a long time." G.K. Chesterton

So, I have been gone for a while...We're almost done with September and I don't even have one post. SHAME ON ME!

I could riddle you all with excuses for my laziness, but that is just it, there are none. I have just been too lackadaisical to bring myself to the precipice of my keyboard and spew out insight on the wonderful books I have been devouring during this time.

Do you want a quick re-cap??? Ok, here you go:

1. Firefly Lane by Kristin Hannah

An amazing tale of two friends, spanning three decades. Have you ever forced yourself to read a book really slowly, just so you wouldn't have to give up having the characters leave your life so quickly? (No? You should try it with this book, The Knitting Circle by Ann Hood, Bel Canto by Ann Patchett and Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger) This book was about 450 pages long, and even with my prolonged reading, it ended too fast.

I can remember what it was like to be a young girl who felt out of place but was kept afloat because of my great friendships with people who got who i was and accepted me all the same. This book reminded me that a good friendship is like a good marriage. You're in it for the long haul, you accept each other's faults and strengths and love each other unconditionally.

The tangled relationship that Katie and Tully have is something to envy. Even with some harsh words and painful events, they overcome them together. This book broke my heart, but only in the best way. An easy friendship is one that you work hard at effortlessly. Or at least that's what I think.

As you can tell this book bubbled up some intense sentimentality for me. It made me think of all the friendships I've had over the years and which ones have withstood the test of time/college/pubescent attitudes, etc. And I am thankful that I have friends from every walk of life. From when I was 3-years-old to when I braved the streets of Boston for 4 years. Those that can pick up from where we left off, be it hours, days, months or years. Those are the friendships I am thankful for and appreciate the most.

2. Breakfast at Stephanie's by Sue Margolis

After I finished sobbing over Firefly Lane, I knew I would have to counteract that lovely, familiar, literary pain in my heart with something light and predictable. Chick-lit can take me out of even the most terrible funk.

Stephanie is a single-mom and an aspiring singer. She has a close relationship with her grandmother and gets into some mischief when she's faced with picking between her son's father and a colleague of hers from the past. Of course she ends up with the right guy and with a wonderful career as the book comes to a close. I loved following the standard chick-lit plot, and even though I knew how it would presumably end, I still got that flurry of anticipation and anxiety when there were catastrophes and unforeseen hurdles to get over.

It was a fast and easy read, nothing too deep to furrow your brow over. I loved it.

3. The Official Book Club Selection: A Memoir According to Kathy Griffin

This book was surprising, because although it did have that classic Kathy Griffin humor, it was also sprinkled with serious anecdotes about her family and her rocky career path as a comedienne. It is definitely something that you should consider reading. Those of you who do not like Kathy may get to see a side of her that you can actually identify with.

(Merits its own post, so more to come later)

4. The Beach Street Knitting Society and Yarn Club by Gil McNeil

I try my best to switch from reading something light to reading something a little more serious. It keeps me grounded and more importantly gives me street cred with my annoyingly observant book-loving friends. I have more often than not been told that I am a chick-lit junkie and that I should seriously look into some sort of re-hab clinic. As you can see, my venture into "serious literature" does not travel far into the bowels of Truman Capote or a historically accurate account on the Cold War. It is something more substantial and thought-provoking. A book about knitting and self-discovery. I know, truly ground-breaking stuff here, people.

Regardless of its ranking on the gravity scale, I really liked the story. Jo Mackenzie, is on the brink of a divorce when her soon-to-be, cheating ex-husband dies in a car accident. Left with her two young sons, she moves out of London and back to her small sea-shore hometown and takes over her grandmother's wool shop. This book is a mixture of small-town quaintness and paparazzi-worthy panache. Along with acclimating her family into a new environment with meddling old biddies, Jo manages to befriend a celebrity, stage a "knit-it" to save their public library and found a "Bitch and Stitch" club for the women of the town.

Jo's story was fun to follow; however, the only thing that I found a bit off-putting was the intense British-ness of the book. Don't get my wrong I've read my share of dry-humored, wit-filled British novels, but normally the authors tone down the British-isms so that you don't trip over their colloquial phrasing. But, Gil McNeil did not hold back. Even with the over use of "cuppa", all in all it was a pleasant read.

Shall we delve into my private psyche for a moment? Okay.

Whenever I read a book about knitting, I instantly get inspired and come up with a million projects that I want to tackle in a day. But, hold on, let me take out my last knitting efforts since I read one of these books...oh here we are, scarves for all my friends for Christmas, five little squares knitted in an attempted to make a blanket and a half finished throw with colors that would put my own grandmother to sleep (really? teal, white and cream...sounds like it could be nice, but alas, it is not)

But I am not one to look adversity in the eye and walk away! I will not be put off by my embarrassing last efforts! I am absolutely positive this time will be different...now where did I put those needles?

5. The Buenos Aires Broken Hearts Club by Jessica Morrison

(Post to follow)

Is this your first time??

My first literary tryst was in the first grade, with a dark humored and captivating lover known to the masses as Roald Dahl. His flirtatious pages beckoned me from behind the yellow book cover with the petite and brilliant Matilda waiting to be met at the precipice of what would be my long journey into full fledged bibliophilia (actually I consider myself more of a bookworm, than a bibliophile, but that doesn't really roll off the tongue does it? "full-fledged bookworm-dom", "bookworm-ia"? Well, you get the point.)

It was my first time experiencing a kindred connection with a character who came from the inner workings of someone's mind. I read and re-read those 140 pages every year until I was 11, intrigued by the young girl intoxicated by her love for books.

In retrospect, I can say, this book was full of what we in the '90s liked to call "girl power", but that wasn't what drew me to those well-thumbed pages every year. It was that I could put myself in Matilda's shoes. I could identify with her need to gobble up every book in sight. She was this small frail girl who had no fear. And I was super jealous that she read ALL the books in her library!

Back to the point... I know I had a point in here somewhere....oh right.

Nowadays, I get made fun of for choosing chick lit as my #1 go-to genre, but it isn't the predictable storylines that get me to go to that brightly colored table at the bookstore. It's that one character or scene that I can identify with right from the first chapter and it stems from the first time I saw myself in Dahl's pages.

The saying goes, "Don't judge a book by its cover", but you also have to remember: Don't judge a reader by her book. I read the classics, I know the serious best sellers, and the hidden gems that only the true "literati" know about; but reading isn't about rattling off facts from those "impress-your-friends" books. It is about fulfillment. For some it is intellectual. For most, it is just catharsis. It is that human nature that begs us to find a healthy way to renew and revitalize ourselves.

From the moment I stepped into this world of words, I couldn't look back. Stories only go forward, there is a beginning, a middle and an end. There are never regrets, just well placed challenges and kind hearts to help you along your way.