#Oneken my backup buddy series

Fantasy, he says, needs to embrace wonder. His essay, couched as a double review of The Magicians by Lev Grossman and The Water Between the World by Israeli author Hagar Yanai, fixates on the idea that only Tolkien-lite qualifies as fantasy works. Weingrad asks why we have no great Jewish works on the level with The Chronicles of Narnia or Lord of the Rings.

My only conclusion is that Weingrad has a very narrow understanding of the fantasy genre, contemporary or otherwise, because given the restrictions he places on his own definition, no wonder he can’t find what he wants.

#Oneken my backup buddy series

Beagle ( The Last Unicorn), Jane Yolen ( The Devil’s Arithmetic) and Maurice Sendak ( Where the Wild Things Are), not to mention Michael Chabon ( The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay), Daniel “Lemony Snicket” Handler ( A Series of Unfortunate Events) and Jonathan Safran Foer ( Everything Is Illuminated). My baffled friends asked why Weingrad was overlooking fantasy giants like William Goldman ( The Princess Bride), Peter S. Weingrad claims he “cannot think of a single major fantasy writer who is Jewish,” yet even my mother was able to come up with Neil Gaiman, author of the Sandman comics, American Gods, Neverwhere and Coraline and winner of just about every fantasy and literary award short of the Pulitzer and Nobel. Namely, he claims that while Jews like to consume fantasy, we just don’t write it, and that disappoints him.įirst, this assertion is ridiculous. Michael Weingrad, a professor of Judaic studies with excellent credentials, published an essay in the Jewish Review of Books titled “ Why There Is No Jewish Narnia.” He makes a number of claims, some insightful, others bewildering, about the Jewish relationship with the fantasy genre. While the younger me probably imagined a big paycheck, a condo by the lake and nights out on the town, I think she’d understand the importance of doing work that I can be proud of, living near family and spending nights snuggling with the husband, baby and dog.Īnd if nothing else, at least I can say I streaked the quad. He took me to Sonoma County, where we drank too much wine without learning a whole lot. He may not speak Spanish, or read Hebrew, but he enjoys lox and bagels more than I do.

The Latino Jew of my list turns out to be an Irish-Polish Catholic.

My younger self had big plans, but maybe those plans haven’t been realized because better “to-dos” have crossed my path. She didn’t set out to earn a laughable salary at a non-profit organization, and she really didn’t plan on working part-time in order to stay home with a baby. After all, 21-year-old Alyssa certainly did not list “live in the suburb where you grew up” among her to-dos. I began to wonder what my 21-year-old self would think about where she is today. My heart sank as I read through them and realized that only one item had been accomplished.

It was promptly forgotten.Īfter reconnecting with a friend from my semester in Spain (thank you, Facebook), I dug out my journal, goals still sticking out of the last page. However, once graduation came and went, my university assignment book was no longer of use to me in the “real world,” and I stuck the list in my travel journal. The items on my list ranged from the possible (learn to play guitar) to the probably not possible (marry a Latino Jew) to the downright silly (streak the quad).īack at school, the goals stayed in my assignment book as a constant reminder: Exhilarated by my experiences and inspired to live the life of a “do-er,” I compiled a few must-do-before-I-die goals. Eight years ago, upon returning from a semester abroad, I put together a “Life To-Do” list.