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.

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.

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.

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. 

Gamm’s book goes beyond just a study of urban Jews to juxtapose Jews and Catholics to figure out the paradox of his title. The book cover, just to drive home his point, shows the entry stairs to a flourishing Catholic church filled with people juxtaposed to the front of a massive, abandoned synagogue. Gamm argues for the significance of religion in shaping Jewish and Catholic practices. From the portability of Torah scrolls and the congregational structure of synagogues, Judaism facilitated mobility. By contrast, parish boundaries and a church hierarchy encouraged rootedness among Catholics. It’s a fascinating and persuasive comparison that illuminates Boston but also helps to make sense of other cities. 

Ainsztein’s book heavily influenced me but also honored my parents’ otryad, the Kruk-Max Group, by describing their fighting force (pp. 353-360). He should be more well-known, and his book should be reprinted in paperback to make it more available to a wider audience.

While his opening chapter is a historical survey of the Jews as fighters and soldiers in the Diaspora, most of the book details the rise of partisans and soldiers in the Polish and Soviet armed forces during the Holocaust 1941-1944.

It is extensive and comprehensive, at nearly 980 pages. But that should not deter the reader, especially the lover of military history—Ainsztein writes beautifully. Like Penslar, he addresses the myth of Jewish pacifism and reluctance to fight militarily.