Hush

Yesterday I finally got hold of a copy of Hush, which I've been hearing about lately in a very quiet way.  By Eishes Chayil (obviously a pseudonym -- it means "woman of valor" in Hebrew), it is a disturbing story written in a very personal way.  The narrator, Gittel, tells the story of her friend Devory through flashbacks and letters, and the tale is not a pleasant one. Among other things, it includes a tragic suicide.  Strictly speaking, it's a Young Adult novel, but I wouldn't necessarily recommend it as one.

This is the first piece of fiction written by an observant Jew that I have ever read which deals with molestation, abuse, and its cover-up in Hasidic society.  I have no way of ascertaining the validity of this account; the author evidently did not feel it was safe to give any clues to her identity or even the sect of Hasidim to which she belongs.  I do wonder how much of this is her personal experience; the reader does come away with the sense that the author has taken some risk in writing this.  I did not, however, have difficulty believing that such things happen, but perhaps I'm naive in thinking that most people do not behave quite as much like ostriches as she describes.  If you've read it, please post here -- I want to hear what you thought about it.

For When You Need a Good Laugh

Another series I've been recommending to friends lately is the Spellman series, by Lisa Lutz.  These are mysteries, and the series begins with The Spellman Files, introducing the reader to Isabel Spellman, the messed-up private investigator daughter of two private investigators.  It continues with Curse of the Spellmans, Revenge of the Spellmans, and The Spellmans Strike Again.  Its delightful wackiness left me in stitches, even after rereading each book several times.
You really do need to read these in order, even though Isabel, the narrator, thoughtfully inserts asterisked notes referring to the previous books.  A collection of characters as odd as they are interesting include an octogenarian Jewish lawyer who loves pastrami sandwiches, a disreputable uncle, and a straitlaced older brother who Isabel both detests and depends on.  Practically every character in this book is blessed (or cursed) with incurable nosiness; this extends to placing a closed-circuit camera over the pistachio bowl to figure out who is putting their shells back in.  And it gets worse, much worse.
The mysteries themselves are not complicated as much as they are byzantine in a bizarre sort of way; don't read these because you want a mental puzzle to solve.  You'll end up with a headache after navigating the intellectual roller-coaster ride on which Lutz takes her readers.  Red herrings are so abundant that you need crackers to go with the story.
These are really, really fun books -- read them when you are tired, depressed, sad, waiting in a waiting room, or on the train.  But don't blame me if, while reading them in public, people look at you strangely because you are chuckling to yourself.  Here's a link to Lutz's page:  http://lisalutz.com/spellman-books.