The World That We Knew by Alice Hoffman

To celebrate Hanukkah, my family lights the menorah for eight nights; my husband makes the most delicious latkes (potato pancakes), and I have always given our children books. When shopping for books by diverse authors this holiday season, remember to include Jewish writers. Their stories aren't just for Hanukkah. We can all learn so much about the world by reading about other cultures and key moments in history. 

One of my favorite Jewish writers is Alice Hoffman, the  author of more than thirty books, many of them national bestsellers. In her 2019 novel, The World That We Knew, a twelve-year-old girl flees Nazi Germany to France with the help of a golem, a magical creature whose existence is as much a blessing as a curse. Despite this touch of magical realism, the mostly realistic narrative doesn't stray far from the facts of history.

What I found most interesting was the exploration of mysticism and female agency within the Jewish faith. I loved how Hoffman adapted patriarchal practices to give her observant female characters more freedom and power. There are also strong male characters, both Catholic and Jewish, but women and girls drive the narrative. The female golem made me rethink what it means to be human and a mother. The magical elements enhanced the story without detracting from the heroism of the French Resistance nor the horrors of the Holocaust. The writing was sublime.

Although The World That We Knew was written for adults, most of the characters are teenagers and the narrative is fast-paced and hopeful so it would crossover well to younger readers. My one and only criticism is the title is way too vague. This unforgettable book deserved a title easier to remember so write it down now. Thanks, Cathy at Main Point Books, for the book recommendation! 

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@Barrie Summy

Sigh, Gone by Phuc Tran

In 1975 Phuc Tran was only a toddler when his family fled the chaos of Saigon for rural Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Although nearly all of the residents were white, Phuc refused to be defined by his ethnicity. Instead, he reinvented himself with the help of punk rock, skateboard tricks, and classic literature. His debut memoir, Sigh, Gone captures both the despair and exhilaration of being a misfit American teenager. 

Phuc struggled growing up with parents who could barely speak English and with neighbors who couldn't pronounce his name or see beyond the Vietnam War. Although driven by love, his father's demand for academic perfection frequently crossed the line into physical abuse. Searching for a sense of belonging, Phuc found a chosen family of skateboarding punks, who shared his passion for iconoclastic music and reckless pranks. They accepted him as he was and offered him the loyalty he deserved.

While working at the public library, Phuc found salvation in literary heroes. Reading through an obscure list of great books by dead white men, Phuc aimed to master them all to win a scholarship to a New York university. Every chapter of his memoir is labeled after a great book, and their themes reverberate in his tumultuous life. His confessional story will make you laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time. 

Phuc Tran and his advisees at the Waynflete School
©Sarah Laurence

My family had been waiting eagerly for Phuc's memoir, and Sigh, Gone lived up to our high expectations. My daughter was lucky enough to have Phuc as her advisor in high school, where he taught Classics. Weekly "Awkward Lunch with Phuc" helped Gemma and many others survive those stressful but formative years. Phuc always put his students first and offered them the emotional support he wished he'd had in high school. 

I would highly recommend Sigh, Gone to anyone mature enough for uncensored teenaged boyhood. Although written for adults, I'm certain teens would enjoy its brutal honesty and ironic humor as well. If you want a preview, watch Phuc's Tedx talk, "Grammar, Identity, and the Dark Side of the Subjunctive." 

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@Barrie Summy

Dominicana by Angie Cruz & a Visit to the Dominican Republic

Playa Sosúa in the Dominican Republic

Inspired by her Dominican mother, Angie Cruz decided to write a realistic novel about immigration and assimilation. Dominicana is a quiet story of savory dishes, simmering passions, and the twisted bonds of family. Although this 2019 novel was written for adults, it would crossover well to teens.

In 1964 fifteen-year-old Ana Canción is wed to Juan Ruiz, a man more than twice her age. Her desperate family is struggling to make a living in the Dominican Republic. Juan and his charismatic brothers are working in New York but still operate a restaurant business back home. The brothers have an eye on the Canción farmland for expansion. Juan also wants a Dominican wife to start a family in New York City. Their homeland is in turmoil, and this union could bring both families more economic security and the salvation of chain migration.

Dutiful Ana pretends to be eighteen to fly to NYC. She arrives to shocking cold and isolation, unable to speak the language or to deal with city life. Her new husband is abusive and demands that she stay home alone, but Ana schemes to start a business and to learn English while Juan is back in the DR. And then there is Cesar, Juan's younger brother, who reminds her how to laugh again....

Dominicana's gorgeous cover caught my eye at Gulf of Maine Books in Brunswick. I'm taking Spanish at Bowdoin College and reading Dominican American authors to research a new book. I started with nonfiction, but you can learn so much more about a culture by listening to its music, tasting its food, and reading its stories. Angie Cruz, Elizabeth Acevedo, and Junot Diaz have taught me slang I won't learn at school and a deeper appreciation of Dominican culture. They are phenomenal writers who create unforgettable characters in tough settings. Cruz's literary style with strong imagery evokes a sensory reaction. You don't just read Dominicana, you experience Ana's struggles as your own and hope for a better future. A deeply personal and realistic story such as this will engender empathy for immigrants and for victims of abuse or prejudice. I'd recommend this book to anyone.

Like Angie Cruz, a true family story inspired me to write historical fiction. During World War II my great grandfather, Arthur Lamport, helped to set up a farming settlement in the Dominican Republic for Jewish refugees. Other nations imposed strict quotas on Jews fleeing Nazi Germany, but the Dominicans opened their country to about 850 Jewish settlers. One small nation of only 1.5 million residents saved near three thousand more lives through visas. Most people, even other Jews, have never heard of Sosúa.

Last month I visited the Dominican Republic to practice Spanish and to see what remains of the Jewish settlement in Sosúa. I found a beautiful beach, their old synagogue, and more to share later.

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Our Homesick Songs by Emma Hooper

Popham Beach in Phippsburg, Maine

Our Homesick Songs by Emma Hooper is a lyrical ode to family and to small towns. Although this 2018 novel takes place in Canada, the coastal town, the quirky characters, their economic hardships, and the bitter cold reminded me of Maine. It was the perfect winter read.

The narrative alternates between fisherman Aidin and net-maker Martha as teens falling in love, and decades later when they have kids of their own and the fish have mysteriously disappeared. Their 11-year-old son, Finn, hopes to entice the fish back, but his big sister wants to escape their dying town. Meanwhile Aidan and Martha struggle to support their family as neighbors abandon their homes and close local shops. Although all four family members share the narration, young Finn's voice was the most engaging. The story is based on true events in the late 20th century, but it's told like an old folktale.

Our Homesick Songs is a quiet book that will warm your heart. The multi-generation characters would appeal to readers of all ages. You could read it aloud by the fire or listen to the audiobook on a long car ride. I enjoyed hearing the folk songs and regional accents in the audiobook but now wish I owned a hard copy to reference the gorgeous prose. I bought the book for my mother's birthday, and she loved it too. The 326 page hardcover makes a good gift.

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Transcription by Kate Atkinson

Transcription by Kate Atkinson (2018) is a feminist remix of John le Carré with a touch of P.G. Wodehouse. In 1940, eighteen-year-old Juliet Armstrong is recruited to spy on Nazi sympathizers in London. Her cohorts try to take advantage of her naivety, but clever Juliet has an agenda of her own. A decade later Juliet is working for the BBC on children's radio programming when her murky past catches up with her. The narrative flips back and forth between the two time periods, building tension.

I read Transcription whilst visiting family in England over the holidays, and it was the perfect travel book. On the train I listened to the audiobook so I could watch the matched view and then switched to the hardcover on the plane home. The page-turner plot made the journey fly. Period details grounded the story in history without slowing the pace.

Kate Atkinson is very good at portraying the subtle nuances of social class differences and how that shapes character and motives. The focus on female spies in the British homefront felt fresh and true to the gender-limits of that time. This novel wasn't as original as Life After Life, Atkinson's time-bending masterpiece, but it was so much fun to read.

I enjoyed Atkinson's descriptions of radio programming as much as the espionage. My British husband, who is writing an academic book on the BBC, found those scenes well portrayed. Who knew there was a revolving door between MI5 and the BBC?

Transcription would appeal to readers of all ages. Juliet's witty narration laced with sarcasm often made me laugh. Given the age of the protagonist, the story would cross over well to teen readers. It reminded me of my favorite historical young adult novel, Elizabeth Wein's Code Name Verity, but even though Transcription was written for adults, it was not as dark.

I would strongly recommend Transcription (and Code Name Verity) to anyone who enjoys unreliable narrators, historical fiction, or British spy novels. I love the cover art on the American edition too. The photo is of my nephew and my daughter after thrift shopping in the medieval town of Wallingford. They reminded me of characters from the book.

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The Winternight Trilogy by Katherine Arden

While browsing in the Wallingford Bookshop in that medieval market town in England, I was drawn to the gorgeous cover of The Bear and The Nightingale (January 2017). The writing inside was equally beautiful. Set in a remote village in northern Russia, this new fantasy series draws on local folklore and history. Author Katherine Arden spent her gap year in Russia before studying its literature at Middlebury College. Her mastery of the language and culture grounds the medieval fairy-tale in its historical context.

In The Bear and the Nightingale, young Vasya runs wild in the woods, refusing to conform to traditional gender roles, antagonizing her miserable stepmother. Her ability to see spirits also puts Vasya at odds with a handsome young priest, who is trying to establish Christianity in their farming community on the edge of the wilderness. Vasya fears being labeled a witch, but she also needs to warn her family of the threats only she perceives. The line between right and wrong often blurs, depending on perspective. I loved how the demons were as well developed and as morally ambiguous as the mortals and how winter was both a character and a setting.

"Moscow, just past Midwinter, and the haze of ten thousand fires rose to meet a smothering sky. To the west a little light lingered, but in the east the clouds mounded up, bruise-colored in the livid dusk, buckling with unfallen snow." 

-The Girl in the Tower

In The Girl in the Tower (December 2017), teenage Vasya disguises herself as a boy and sets out on a magical horse to see the real world, encountering spirits, bandits, and storms on the icy trail. She is more afraid of being sent to a convent or confined to a palace tower in Moscow, like her princess sister. Feminism is a difficult fit for the times. This second book in the Winternight trilogy was even better than the first, now that the protagonist has matured into a young woman. The sequel combines literary style with a page-turner mystery, less horrific than the first book but equally surreal.

Although this series was published as adult fantasy, it could as easily be young adult fiction, given the age of the protagonist and the content. I bought both for my sixteen-year-old niece, who loved them as much as I did. We're eagerly awaiting The Winter of the Witch, due to be published in August. I prefer the British cover art as shown, which looks more Russian than the American editions. I'd strongly recommend these books to historical fiction and fantasy readers of all ages, especially to fans of The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley and Seraphina by Rachel Hartman. They are just the right books for this never ending winter!

I also have an excellent audiobook recommendation: Long Way Down, a YA novel in verse read by the author, Jason Reynolds: An African American boy, set on revenging the gang shooting death of his older brother, encounters the spirits of his past in the elevator.

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