Fans pick 100 books like No Vacancy

I loved this book for its blend of suspense, family dynamics, and coming-of-age. Set in 1970s Atlantic City, we meet 13-year-old Joey Goodman, who spends the summer at his family’s hotel on the boardwalk. When he gets caught up with a group of mobsters, Joey faces new challenges and temptations that test his morals and courage.

Nockowitz beautifully captures Joey’s struggle between loyalty to his family and the allure of adventure and independence. He portrays the competing values of family and self-determination, all focused around Ski-Ball as a central metaphor. The novel’s historical setting is vividly brought to life, making Joey’s journey feel like a trip in time—to a nostalgic yesteryear many young readers won’t know but soon will fall in love with.

Half Jewish and half Chinese, Lauren doubts herself after an insensitive music teacher says she belongs in the chorus of the school musical because she doesn’t look American enough for the leading role.

Tara, Lauren’s best friend, is cast as the lead instead. Lauren isn’t sure she can hide her own disappointment to support her friend. With the help of her two grandmothers who share wisdom from both of their traditions, Lauren learns to claim her identity and believe in her own considerable talents.

As a reader, I personally identified with Lauren’s love of singing and was rooting for her every step of the way. 

This touching novel is written in alternating voices of two pre-teens who become friends on a city bus in Washington, DC.

Gilah is preparing for her Bat Mitzvah and Guillermo is a Salvadoran-American who is adjusting to a new city. Gilah’s narrative is told in prose chapters with a thoughtful internal monologue sharing her struggles to interpret social cues as a neurodiverse adolescent.

Guillermo narrates in verse chapters beautifully capturing his own observations and challenges. This is a story of friendship, family, and learning to embrace yourself.  

Imani is thirteen and approaching her Bat Mitzvah. She is also an African-American adopted by a white Jewish family.

She has many questions about her birthparents and her own place in the world. When she has the opportunity to read the diary of her adopted mother’s grandmother who fled Europe as a Jewish refugee during World War II, Imani learns why sometimes mothers make impossible choices to save their children’s lives.

This novel is a riveting mix of history and coming of age. 

Now that I’ve raised the issue of whiteness – ways in which American structures and institutions reflect the agendas and interests of white people, and the role those structures play in shaping opportunity and life experiences -- here I want to bring it front and center. Many white people don’t recognize how they benefit from having white skin (called “white privilege”) and many white ethnic groups, including many white Jews in the U.S., deny their white privilege altogether, insisting that they too have been the victim of white discrimination, and that anti-Black racism is no different. Brodkin offers a powerful counter-narrative, pointing out the many important ways that American Jews of European descent did indeed benefit from their white skin even when they did not realize it. 

Levine’s important book – scholarly and yet accessible to general readers – looks very seriously at the efforts of Jews through sports to define their identities as Americans and as Jews.

I appreciated his keen eye for charming and insightful memoirs and anecdotes of the life experiences of both well-known Jewish athletes who made it to the professional ranks and also of the masses of Jews who embraced athleticism in urban playgrounds and who turned up at stadiums and arenas to cheer on their heroes.

Riess brought together nine of the most thoughtful historians and one outstanding non-fiction writer who understands the impact sports has made on American Jewish identity and culture.

I read these engrossing essays and can recommend them as a useful complement to Levine’s work and together they deepened my thinking on a subject that is more than just an academic exercise for me.

As a Catholic convert myself, I have long been interested in the spiritual journeys of these two, a middle-aged, conservative English professor and a young divorcee with two sons. Actually, two unlikely loves play out in this non-fiction biography: first young Lewis with Mrs. Moore, thirty years his senior (who may or may not have been his lover), and much later Joy, a Jewish convert to Christianity and former communist. Her death, just four years after their marriage, is mourned in Lewis’ own book, A Grief Observed, the only book I found comforting after my husband died. 

The golden age of Jewish-American literature began in the early 1950s and lasted until the early 1980s.

Pulitzers abounded: Saul Bellow won Humboldt’s Gift, and Bernard Malamud won for The Fixer. Norman Mailer won twice, in nonfiction and in fiction, for The Armies of the Night and The Executioner’s Song. (Grace Paley would win one in 1994 for stories originally published in this period.)

Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint, a novel about jerking off, sold more than 400,000 copies in hardcover in its first year. But you can’t talk about the golden age without mentioning Cynthia Ozick. The Pagan Rabbi, published in 1971, contains such essential stories as “Envy; or, Yiddish in America,” one of the most searing (and hilarious) indictments of assimilation—and writerly envy—ever printed.

In another Wild West setting twist, an advice dispensing Rabbi is the vehicle for upcycling traditional folk tales. And it is funny: whether the Rabbi is busting through saloon doors to beat someone to the punchline of an Abe Lincoln joke or using his wits to outsmart bandits or simply helping out with a frontier domestic issue, I find myself literally laughing out loud. The illustrations are charmingly folky, and there is a glossary for the story sources which often turn out to be tales that are many hundreds of years old.