This is easily one of the most delightfully Jewish novels I've ever read, and I was recommending it with joy to other Jewish reviewers before I'd even finished.

Shiva (yes, truly the name of someone raised Orthodox) has recently lost her beloved father, and that has forced her and her mother Hannah to face their difficult relationship. As the story progresses, we see that Hannah was shaped by her own troubled relationship with her mother, Syl, who was also shaped by the trauma her mother Mira had experienced. These generations of Jewish women become the basis for an exp[oration of Jewish folklore, history, and culture, especially as Shiva goes to Poland to explore both Jewish history and her own family's past life in a shtetl.

The prose in this book is incredible, and I highlighted so many insightful and moving sentences as I was reading. The relationship between mothers and daughters was one of my favorite parts (unsurprising if you know me and my interests), as was the incorporation of queerness and the way it became a path to freedom beyond cultural expectations for almost every generation.

I never quite fully wrapped my head around the mythical narrator and who or what it really was, but I enjoyed the other parts so much that I'm not troubling myself about that too much (and maybe we aren't supposed to know?). Once I surrendered to my confusion, I was really just immersed in the story.

Strangely, there is a quote from Ocean Vuong that I thought about several times while reading this book. "Being queer saved my life. Often we see queerness as deprivation. But when I look at my life, I saw that queerness demanded an alternative innovation from me. I had to make alternative routes; it made me curious; it made me ask, 'Is this enough for me?'"

City of Laughter seems to show the same, that queerness is a path to joy outside of the expectations of marriage, or silence, or fear. I am so glad we have this queer Jewish story to find joy in.

Wow. This book publishes in January and it’s already one of my favorite books of 2024. The prose is stunningly gorgeous, the kind of fresh, immersive literary voice that inspires me to write.

“City of Laughter” centers on Shiva, a newly out queer Modern Orthodox Jew reeling from the death of her father and her first breakup with her first great love. She feels stuck, working a series of meaningless jobs at nonprofits, and burning with a desire to know more of her family’s history and by extension herself. But her family is secretive and emotionally unavailable, generations of women who were taught that to be different was to be possessed by something evil, something worthy of superstition and fear.

Feeling like she has nothing left to lose, Shiva enrolls in graduate school to study Jewish folklore, driven to obsession by the scholar, storyteller and playwright Ansky, whom she suspects was queer. As a child she watched his play The Dybbuk with her father, who was the bridge between the dark secrets and repression of her maternal line and laughter.

Thus follows a cerebral tale through four generations of women, one brought up to believe that she was possessed as a baby when a window was left open and she was left alone, the belief so strong that she goes mute instead of giving in to her wild, unnatural laughter, silenced by an abusive father who excused the abuse as mystical. The curse is passed down through the generations.

Shiva goes to Poland to find answers, under the guise of a research project into the impact of storytelling and family lore on Jewish folklore, and finds herself in the vibrant but hidden queer community there, and the whispers of queer desire throughout the generations of her bloodline.

The characters in this really were wonderful. I’m not normally a fan of multigenerational family sagas with secrets and betrayals, but I was taken with this one. Each of the stories between Mira, Syl, Hannah and Shiva were so intimate and personal, so layered, I felt like I knew them even if I didn’t like some of them.

I also respected the Jewish rep. I learned so much about Poland and family traditions from this book. I thought it would get into the wartime history more but it talked around that time and centered more on the hardships and joys of daily family life through the decades, the hardships and abuse that queer folks and women who were different faced.

I like how the curse and the possessed spirit turned into a misunderstood spirit, a seeker like Shiva, but I almost felt the supernatural elements were the least interesting part of the book. They were so subtle they were almost superfluous. I found the culture, the folklore, the beliefs and traditions that bind families across generations, the fear and the interpersonal relationships far more interesting than ghosts, demons and dybbuks, although it was the central thread of the story so it needed to be there. The pacing just felt off with it. This was more a story about feminism, queer desire, mothers and daughters, and family than anything else.

All in all, a beautiful, brave book by an important new voice.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for the advance review copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.

City of Laughter” …..a wonderful debut novel by Tamim Fruchter, a queer non-binary writer who was raised in a Modern Orthodox Jewish household……begins with a prologue filled with
‘phenomenal’ storytelling symbolism.
The imagery - purpose - and deeper complexity was brilliantly written… a fabulous setup to begin the novel.
To share details….(about the ‘fantastical-stranger-visitor’ would spoil the self-reading-fun.

Ropshitz, Poland (a small town) was once known as the City of Laughter…..with history of the badchan ….a type of Ashkenazic Jewish professional entertainer, poet, sacred clown, and jester-master-of-ceremonies originating in Eastern Europe. The badchan was an indispensable part of the traditional Jewish wedding who guided the bride and groom through the stages of the wedding ceremony.

Let this above information ‘just be’….for awhile…..
because….
once ‘Chapter One’ follows the prologue….we meet an irresistible protagonist…..Shiva Margolin.
If Shiva seems grouchy and miserable at the start …..it’s with good reason. Her father had just died, her first queer-love relationship with Dani was on shaky grounds — and she and her mother, Hannah, were not exactly gliding smoothly together in their relationship either.
Shiva also wished she knew more about her great-grandmother, Mira…
Shiva believed if she could “find and illuminate whatever piece of the past was being held hostage somewhere in the annals of her own family, she’d come unstuck, feel more whole”.

Eventually Shiva goes back to school— which leads to visiting Warsaw.
“So I want to go. To go to Warsaw, to go to the archives, to walk the streets there, to see ‘The Dybbuk’ where it was first staged. To meet my own possession at its source.
Shiva paused for a quick breath. And I may not even know exactly what I am writing about until I get there. What my thesis topic will be, what the talk will be about. What my work deals with. But I know I’ll find it in Warsaw. You’ll have to trust me. Please”.

Temim Fruchter is a terrific writer….a great storyteller. The journey she takes us on has great visual panoramic allure ….with folktales, superstitions, spirituality, Jewish history, family generational drama, mystery, secrets….(secrets that surprised me), with characters to root for.
In the authors notes,
Temim shared…..
“The folktales I’ve written anew here are a kind of homeage to my rich Ashkenazic Jewish oral tradition; how folktales are created and recreated in kitchens and around fires; how they shift shape.
These invented stories are lovingly wrought from the expansive spirit of the folktales my parents read to us on Friday nights; the lore that raised me”.

A total treasure to read…..(hard to believe this is a debut novel).
The literary skill Temim Fruchter shows us — with her multi-faceted wit, depth, humor, and social history authenticity…..is a significant- intelligent- rigorous delight to read.

Highly Recommend ….. (my Jewish friends should love it too)