100 books like Yiddish for Pirates

Speaking of authors who combine stylistic daring with profound emotion, I give you George Saunders. Saunders’s strange and funny stories prompted me to try my hand at writing fiction, and his first novel is one of my favorite books.

Inspired by the true story of Abraham Lincoln sneaking, on multiple occasions, into a Washington D.C. crypt to cradle the corpse of his young son, Willie, this book also breathes life into a sizeable cast of ghosts squatting in the “Bardo”—a liminal space between life and death. As the American Civil War rages, President Lincoln and the unwilling ghosts must all come to terms with the inevitability of death. This book is a great American novel, equally hilarious and heart-breaking.

This book gave me shivers, both from the monsters and the evil that humans are capable of.

This novella from P. Djeli Clark manages to be action-packed while still dealing with heavy topics like racism and slavery. It’s the 1920s, and Maryse Boudreaux is a Black woman living in the deep south of the United States. Maryse and her friends have formed a militia to fight the ‘Ku Kluxes,’ monsters who take the form of Ku Klux Klan members to spread hate further.

There are points in this book where it seems like all is lost, which makes it all the more satisfying when the heroes rally. 

The only reason I don’t list Love in the Ruins as my favorite novel is because the shadow of this book looms large over every speculative novel I read.

Both books are extraordinarily funny, but Love in the Ruins has become more of a comfy read, while I still find Gravity’s Rainbow complex and challenging. It’s a cross between slapstick and mind f*ck. I would issue a trigger alert for readers who find occasional perverse sex and violence uncomfortable, but I personally believe reading uncomfortable books can make us grow into better readers and better writers.

I am a historian by day. But I have always believed that artists—whether writers, painters, or musicians—capture the human experience of history and, moreover, convey it in an enduring form for future generations far more effectively than historians. 

Historians have to present a single line of analysis or argument, which inevitably and properly makes events of a particular historical period meaningful to the particular moment in time when they are writing. A true artist can transcend both of those times. In my view, Rushdie’s book achieves that for the period, or generation, after Indian independence in 1947.

I have lived in India and written a lot about Indian history myself, including a book about Bombay, where Rushdie was partly raised. So, I have enjoyed and admired many of his earlier books, but this one remains his great achievement as a work of historical art.

Among the wonders of medieval Spain is the appearance of the first Hebrew secular poetry since Biblical times. In this masterful and unparalleled set of translations by Peter Cole, we witness the profound, pious, chauvinistic, and indeed, sensual traditions of secular poetry over centuries. A fusion of Arabic and Hebrew traditions, in and of themselves, these poems stand as a metaphor for the Jewish community itself as well as its dynamism and endurance under Muslim and then, Christian rule. 

As a result of vast outpouring of important Jewish writing over the last century, it is difficult to navigate what is important and what should be included in the mainstream of Jewish life.

This is a curated collection of some of the most important writing and documentation of the period. I found it personally helpful to know what I should be reading and what I should be aware of. It also provides a helpful blueprint for those of us who are educators—what should be teaching in the years ahead to raise literate Jews of this generation, as well as those of other faith communities who may be interested in the trajectory of Jewish intellectual and religious life of this period.

A classic, The Carp in the Bath Tub, became one of my favorite books over fifty years ago. It speaks to me of the deep compassion children have for animals and how tradition/society is often in conflict with young sensibilities. I feel this book is not only good, but important, for it deals with big issues in a seemingly simple story.

Cohen writes the story as memoir, telling of her youth in New York in the 1930s and how she and her brother try to save the life of the carp that her mother buys a week before Passover, keeping it alive in the family bathtub, as was the tradition, in order to cook gefilte fish. She relates the realistic outcome without moralizing. That’s another reason I love this book. Today’s children and parents would have much to enjoy and much to discuss in reading “Carp”.

Osnat and her Dove is so much more than a book that reflects Iraqi Jewish culture.

It is a book that will inspire girls to see the limitless possibilities that they have to choose their own paths. It’s a window into a community and history that readers likely know little about. The layered gouache illustrations create the illusion of texture and make the book even more magical. 

A spirit of comédie humaine suffuses this collection of short stories set largely among Orthodox Jewish communities. Englander has an affectionate comic touch, and that’s obvious here.

Just as important is his gift for limning out the pain of people pulled between the comfort of belonging on the one hand and, on the other, the urge, perhaps the need to rebel.

Krakowski's Coming of Age in Medieval Egypt offers not only offers a sophisticated critique of scholarship on medieval kinship arrangements, but also casts light on the social agency of young women during the few years between the age of their formal maturity and their matrimonial engagement.

Krakowski's wonderful achievement is made possible thanks to her exceptional familiarity with the documents of the Cairo Geniza and her ability to take a step back and observe the broad social picture they reflect.