Notes from Around the Web: Jewish Literary Links for Shabbat
A few literary links to direct your way before Shabbat:
Shabbat shalom!
A few literary links to direct your way before Shabbat:
Shabbat shalom!
When you’re a debut author from a tiny new press, not everyone will be willing to take a chance on you for a reading. At least, that’s what I figured. Which explains why, as soon as I knew that I’d be heading to Washington, D.C., for the annual conference of the Association of Writers & Writing Programs in early February, I didn’t bother to query the Library of Congress or Politics & Prose (even if I’d once lived a block away from the latter, and spent many happy hours–not to mention significant chunks of my first-year-after-college-paychecks–on its premises).
I don’t recall exactly where or how I discovered the National Museum of American Jewish Military History (NMAJMH), but as soon as I saw its listing, I knew I was on to something very special. And I suspected that this relatively small museum might be receptive to hearing from me.
I am a granddaughter of an American Jewish army veteran. More to the point, one of the stories in my new collection, Quiet Americans, is inspired by my grandfather’s military experience. That story, “Lebensraum,” is set primarily in Clarinda, Iowa, the site of a World War II prisoner-of-war camp. My German-born, Jewish grandfather–who was drafted into the army well before his naturalization was complete–supervised German prisoners in a camp kitchen. That unusual circumstance is the kernel that sparked “Lebensraum.”
Several months ago, I sent my first email to the NMAJMH. Then, I gladly supplied the review copy that was requested. After that, a series of e-mail exchanges and a phone call with Assistant Administrator Mary Westley finalized the plan: I’d read from Quiet Americans on Sunday, February 6. I’d be able to sell and sign books at the museum, too.
I arrived at the museum–located just off Dupont Circle–early enough to tour the building and its exhibitions. My mother had already alerted me to the fact that one of our fellow congregants had a special connection with the place: The NMAJMH has mounted a poignant exhibition honoring the memory of our co-congregant’s brother, Sanford (“Sandy”) Kahn, who was killed in Normandy in July 1944. He was nineteen years old. (I was especially moved to see a copy of Sandy Kahn’s Confirmation Class photo from 1938, as I know that back in our Temple, the wall that holds the original also includes pictures of my own Confirmation Class, and my sister’s.)
Ms. Westley had arranged a number of comfortable chairs in one of the museum’s cozy rooms, and she’d also set out refreshments for the reading’s attendees. As delighted as I was to see my cousins Dennis and Sherry and my college buddy Brian among the audience, I was also very pleased to see plenty of unfamiliar faces.
I read “Lebensraum” in its entirety, which took about a half-hour, and then I answered a number of questions. (One question came from a young woman who was seeking advice about where she might try to publish some Jewish-themed writing, and I was glad to be able to point her to a resource right here on this site.)
Books were sold and signed, refreshments were consumed, and a good afternoon was had by all. (At least, that’s my impression!)
Dennis and Sherry gave me a ride to Union Station, and as my train rolled back toward New York City, I thought about what a wonderful afternoon it had been. And I knew I’d have to post about it, not only because my hours there had added another segment to my post-publication journey, but also because I hope that the next time some of you find yourselves in Washington, you’ll pay a visit to the NMAJMH, too.
She’s a classic storyteller and there’s a clear, direct line from Isaac Bashevis Singer and Bernard Malamud to her 21st-century keyboard.
Please forgive me, but I can’t resist sharing this snippet from a review of my new short-story collection, Quiet Americans. The reviewer is David Abrams, and you can read his full take on the book right here. High praise, indeed! Thank you, David.
Assuming that the trains are running despite snow/ice/sleet, I will be on my way to the Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) conference in D.C. tomorrow. I’m unlikely to post while I’m away, but I should have plenty to share once I return.
Have a great several days. See you back here soon.
Many apologies for missing last week’s lit-links post. And fair warning: I’m unlikely to post next Friday as well: I’ll be away at the Association of Writers & Writing Programs conference. But don’t worry: I shall return!
Shabbat shalom!
Today, eight days after the official publication of my debut story collection, Quiet Americans, I’m not going to blog (or link to) my book’s latest reviews, the virtual tour, or anything along those lines. Instead, focusing on the history behind my book, I want to take this opportunity remind us all about today’s significance: Today is the annual International Day of Commemoration to honor the victims of the Holocaust.
In my Jewish education as a child and young adult, I learned about (and now routinely remember) Yom Hashoah. As My Jewish Learning explains:
The full name of the day commemorating the victims of the Holocaust is “Yom Hashoah Ve-Hagevurah” –literally the “Day of (Remembrance of) the Holocaust and the Heroism.” It is marked on the 27th day in the month of Nisan–a week after the seventh day of Passover, and a week before Yom Hazikaron (Memorial Day for Israel’s fallen soldiers).
The date was selected by the Knesset (Israeli Parliament) on April 12, 1951. The full name became formal in a law that was enacted by the Knesset on August 19, 1953. Although the date was established by the Israeli government, it has become a day commemorated by Jewish communities and individuals worldwide.
(In 2011, Yom Hashoah will begin at sundown on Sunday, May 1.)
Recently, however, I’ve learned about a second commemorative day. In 2005, the United Nations designated “27 January–the anniversary of the liberation of the Auschwitz death camp–as an annual International Day of Commemoration to honour the victims of the Holocaust.”
So today, too, we remember. And since I’m not pointing you to any links concerning my book, I humbly ask that you take just a few moments out of your day to click over to the International Holocaust Remembrance Day mini-site curated by Yad Vashem, “the Jewish people’s living memorial to the Holocaust” in Israel.