“Magical Meet Cute” – new novel imbues age-old “golem” theme with romance…and mystery
Review by BERNIE BELLAN I’d never read what would be considered a romance novel before, so when I received an email from a publicist for Harper Collins inviting me to read what was described as a new “rom-com,” I admit I was somewhat hesitant to accept the offer. But – the premise of the novel, as described in that email was somewhat enticing. Here’s what it said: “Ettel Resnick is a proud Jewitch woman. After being dumped by her fiancé of seven years, she recreated herself, selling her successful legal practice in Manhattan to open Magic Mud Pottery in Woodstock, New York. But everything changes on the fateful night Ettel returns from yet another singles event at the synagogue—and finds her town papered with antisemitic flyers.
“Desperate for comfort, she turns to the only thing guaranteed to soothe her Jewitch soul. Pottery. Heading to her studio, she gets super drunk, and crafts a golem. Ettel pours her heart into that little clay creature. She gives it everything she’s ever wanted in a partner, etching words onto his body—some sensible, some esoteric—before getting totally naked and burying that golem doll in her backyard.
“But when her ideal man turns up the very next day—and checks every detail inscribed on her clay man’s belly, including loving to play Scrabble and reading her books—she’s left wondering if she’s falling in love with the real deal, or if she’s truly summoned a golem.
“This laugh out loud romantic comedy explores witchcraft from a Jewish angle, fighting back against the anti-Semitic way Jewish witches have been portrayed throughout history. It also features a woman dealing with anti-semitism in her town and turning to the ancient Jewish protector—the golem.”
There are several things wrong with what that publicist wrote, however: First, the main character’s name was not Ettel Resnick, it’s Faye Kaplan. (That mistake alone made me wonder where the publicist got her information. Obviously, she hadn’t read the book.) But second – and perhaps this is more important, to describe “Magical Meet Cute” as a rom-com is a disservice to a book that is far more than a rom-com. Yes, it contains some of the elements of a romance novel and it does have some good laughs, but as the book develops it takes on a far more serious tone – and turns into a rollicking good mystery.
After reading something about the author, Jean Meltzer, I discovered that she had just about completed writing the book, but then October 7 happened and it cast a giant shadow over what she had mostly written. As a result, she now says that there is a much more serious overtone to her book than what she had anticipated in writing it. A good part of “Magical Meet Cute” has to do with antisemitism and how completely shocked so many Jews are when it comes to having to deal with overt displays of antisemitism. In the book, Faye fights back, but others in the Jewish community are less willing to confront the threat posed by a group known as “the Paperboys.”
As the press release noted, the action in the book takes place in the very real town of Woodstock, New York (although I have no idea whether the Woodstock described here bears much resemblance to the real town.) As for the reference to “witchcraft,” I admit that threw me off somewhat. I have encountered the notion of Jewish witches previously, especially in Alice Hoffman’s brilliant “The Dovekeepers,” but as I read “Magical Meet Cute,” I became much more aware of the notion of “Jewitches” which, in this book, is treated in a positive manner. But, add to that the introduction of the theme of the “golem” in this novel, and you get something quite a bit more complex than what many readers might expect to find in a typical “rom-com.” Yes, Faye Kaplan does drunkenly fashion a golem out of clay early on in the novel – and then the very next day a character appears who certainly does seem to tick off all the right boxes as a real golem. But, that’s where this book takes a very interesting turn, as the author explores the notion of the golem in Jewish history.
The theme of antisemitism and how ordinary Jews – just leading their everyday lives, are taken so completely by surprise when they encounter direct – and often vicious antisemitism, is especially hard hitting in “Magical Meet Cute.” And, because the notion of the golem as a magical defender of Jews has been around for centuries (as the author explains), it serves as a very convenient – and enticing device around which to develop a modern-day novel, especially in a time of rampant antisemitism. That’s also where the book veers from romance to thriller – and Jean Meltzer does a fabulous job of injecting tremendous suspense – and trepidation, into the latter part of what is actually quite a long novel (over 480 pages).
In fact, I could have done with less of the romance and more of the thriller. When Faye Kaplan does meet – and fall in love with the character, who we come to know as “Greg” – who may or not be a real golem, I suppose it would have ruined the story for the two of them to go to bed right off the hop. But Meltzer describes Faye as quite beautiful, while Greg is what I would think would be almost any woman’s fantasy of a perfect male. Not only is he gorgeous, he’s absolutely devoted to Faye. I won’t let you know whether they consummate their relationship, but there is an entire subplot revolving around Faye’s abandonment issues which prevents her from trusting Greg that is really quite sad, although totally credible.
As I made my way through “Magical Meet Cute,” I kept asking myself: Would someone who isn’t Jewish enjoy this book quite as much as someone who is? After all, there are so many references that, if you weren’t Jewish, you’d be wondering just what the heck they mean? One that comes to mind off the top though – and it’s one I’ve never encountered previously, is Faye’s repeated use of the expression “Haman’s hat,” which she says whenever she’s quite surprised by something. I did a bit of reading on the subject but I simply couldn’t find an explanation why someone would say “Haman’s hat” as say, a substitute for something like “holy s_it.” (Maybe someone will enlighten me.)
Something else that intrigued me was Faye’s predilection for “hard kosher salami.” I realized early on it was her go-to comfort food, but aside from how unhealthy it is to eat, I couldn’t help but think of its phallic overtones. (By the way, Meltzer does enjoy using the term “shvantz” as a term of endearment in describing a certain part of Greg’s anatomy. I would have thought she might have resorted to the more commonly used “schmeckle.”)
When Meltzer introduces the group terrifying the Jews of Woodstock as “the Paperboys,” it’s obviously a not-too-thinly veiled reference to one of Donald Trump’s favourite white supremacist groups, “the Proudboys.” (I apologize if I’ve offended any Trump lovers. After all, there were “many good people on both sides,” as Trump suggested, during the white supremacist march through Charlottesville in 2017, weren’t there?)
“Magical Meet Cute” does have so much more to offer than simply a romance, but if I do have one qualm about the book it is that it so very long. It could have been cut down to no more than 300 pages but, having said that, I applaud the author for combining two quite different genres into quite the good read. By the way, the book is slated for release August 27, but it’s available online right now from Amazon.
A little‑remembered Gilded Age millionaire helped make milk safe for American kids through his ‘retail giving’
The 1844 edition of the widely used schoolbook written by William H. McGuffey, “Newly Revised Eclectic Fourth Reader,” includes a dialogue about the difference between “true and false philanthropy”:
Mr. Fantom: I despise a narrow field. O for the reign of universal benevolence! I want to make all mankind good and happy.
Mr. Goodman: Dear me! Sure, that must be a wholesale sort of a job: had you not better try your hand at a town or neighborhood first?
As the discussion continues, the lesson becomes clear. Mr. Fantom’s approach is too ambitious to accomplish much, while Mr. Goodman’s, if narrower in scope, was likely to be more useful in practice.
Nathan Straus made his mark in philanthropy after a successful career running the Macy’s department store. Library of Congress Image by
Many of Straus’ contemporary philanthropists were setting lofty goals for their giving. In oil magnate John D. Rockefeller’s case, it was promoting “the welfare of humanity throughout the world.” For steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie, it was “to promote the advancement and diffusion of knowledge and understanding.”
Straus pursued more mundane objectives that included championing milk pasteurization. Although his efforts are not as well known today as those of his more ambitious – and wealthier – counterparts, they accomplished a lot and showed that what might be called “retail giving” can have far-reaching effects.
Successful immigration story
The Straus family came to the United States from Germany in the 1850s during the first big wave of Jewish immigration. Lazarus Straus, Nathan’s father, followed a familiar path for Jewish immigrants at the time, beginning as a peddler and eventually establishing his own store in the small town of Talbotton, Georgia, where the members of his family were the only Jews.
He prospered, became a respected citizen and saw that his children received good educations, including in their religion.
Then the Civil War upended the family’s life, first by reviving antisemitic prejudices and then, eventually, by destroying the family’s business.
Starting anew in New York City, Lazarus and his older sons, Isidor and Nathan, began to sell imported china, glassware and other crockery to retailers in the Northeast and South. One was Rowland H. Macy, who had founded an eponymous store that was on the cutting edge of what Fisher calls a “retailing revolution.”
Macy’s innovations included stocking large inventories of many kinds of merchandise, competitive pricing, extensive advertising and providing a variety of services like public restrooms and a cafeteria to make shoppers’ experiences more pleasurable.
Aided by the rapid urban and economic growth of the late 19th century, the model flourished. Department stores displaced smaller, specialty shops. Other retail powerhouses, such as Bloomingdale’s and Lord & Taylor, soon competed with Macy’s.
The Straus family sold their wares at Macy’s. After Rowland H. Macy died, the Straus family became partners with its new owners. By 1896, the Strauses owned the store outright. And Macy’s was expanding: It bought another department store in Brooklyn and created a flagship building on Manhattan’s Herald Square, which Macy’s still occupies.
The landmark Macy’s department store in New York’s Herald Square opened in 1902 while Nathan and Isidor Straus ran the retailer. Library of Congress Image by
His philanthropy journey begins
While Isidor Straus oversaw the store’s internal operations, Nathan focused on the company’s external activities, such as purchasing, marketing and dealing with government and business leaders.
A third brother, Oscar, pursued a career as a politician and diplomat, eventually becoming secretary of commerce and labor under President Theodore Roosevelt and the first Jewish member of a presidential cabinet. Perhaps inevitably, this led to a series of public appointments for Nathan Straus.
However, as they became wealthier, Nathan and his wife, Lina, increasingly devoted their attention to a series of philanthropic projects.
In 1893, the U.S. entered a four-year economic depression, its worst until the 1930s. As unemployment in New York City rose, Nathan Straus used his merchandising skills to address the needs of the jobless and poor.
He created a number of “depots” near tenements and boarding houses that sold coal, food and fuel at discount prices. Fisher, Straus’ biographer, rightly calls these early examples of what is now known as “social entrepreneurship”: the application of business principles to solving social problems.
Making milk less deadly
As these efforts were getting away, Straus also launched what would become his major preoccupation: promoting pasteurized milk.
In New York City in the early 1890s, Fisher writes, “the annual mortality rate among children under five was about 15 percent,” or 18,000 infants and toddlers per year. A main cause was consuming raw milk, which, unless certified by inspectors, was likely not only to contain a variety of pathogens, such as tuberculosis bacteria, but spoil easily going from farm to table.
Although scientists had long known that heating could make milk safer, doctors and public health officials worried that sterilizing milk might also destroy its valuable nutrients.
Straus, who had lost one of his own children to what he believed was a milk-borne infection, built on his projects for the unemployed by working with New York social service agencies to develop pasteurization plants and infant-milk stations near low-income neighborhoods.
They sold sterilized and refrigerated milk at below-wholesale prices, or donated it to those who could not afford to pay. Businesslike efficiency kept costs low, as did donations. Multilingual ads publicized the product’s availability, doctors and nurses advised parents on child-rearing, and careful recordkeeping aimed at assessing the program’s health benefits.
Straus and his wife devoted much of their time and money to this work. In addition to establishing 297 milk stations in 36 cities, they also spoke and wrote widely about the merits of pasteurization.
By 1908, their efforts paid off when the U.S. Public Health Service endorsed pasteurization and state and local governments began requiring that milk sold in their jurisdictions be pasteurized. Raw milk remained available in many states, and debates over its safety continue to this day.
As a result of this and other Progressive Era measures, New York City’s health commissioner estimated that infant deaths dropped by two-thirds
during the first two decades of the 20th century, with similar declines elsewhere in the country.
The coastal Israeli city of Netanya was named after philanthropist Nathan Straus. Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images Image by
Other causes
While most of Nathan Straus’ efforts occurred in the U.S., he used his trips to Europe for Macy’s to promote pasteurization on the continent.
During a 1904 visit, he toured the Mediterranean and stopped in Palestine, then part of the Ottoman Empire. Impressed by the early Jewish settlements and holy sites he saw, Straus became an ardent advocate for creating a Jewish homeland in the Middle East, an unusual position for a Jewish businessman of that era, according to Fisher.
On a subsequent trip, a broken leg kept Straus from returning to New York on the maiden voyage of the Titanic; his brother Isidor and sister-in-law Ida were not so fortunate.
In the U.S., Nathan Straus led Zionist organizations, while in Palestine, his chief contributions involved supporting a variety of health care and economic development activities, including Hadassah, the women’s health and community development organization founded by Henrietta Szold.
Nathan Straus’ achievements as a philanthropist are not widely known today because he did not create a grantmaking foundation that outlasted him, as Rockefeller and Carnegie did.
Instead, by the time of his death in 1931, Straus had donated much of his fortune. Fisher writes that Straus used to invoke an old Hebrew proverb: “Money given in health is gold. Money given in sickness is silver. Money given after death is lead.”
He also didn’t donate heavily to the burgeoning network of communal organizations set up to assist the growing population of Jewish immigrants, as did the financiers Jacob Schiff and Felix Warburg, who were also affluent Jewish immigrants from Germany.
As Fisher notes, this pattern of philanthropy resembles that of Straus’ friend – and pallbearer – Julius Rosenwald, the longtime head of Sears, Roebuck and Co. Both supported Jewish causes as well as major initiatives aimed at helping others: In Rosenwald’s case, it was schools for African American children in the South, while for Straus, it was milk pasteurization in New York City and beyond.
During and after World War I, they worked together to assist Jewish refugees in Europe. Fisher might have added that neither Straus nor Rosenwald sought much recognition for their work.
His thorough account should help give Straus the credit he deserves for his philanthropy. It should also show that donors do not have to aspire to “make all mankind good and happy” to make an important difference.
In many ways, Nathan Straus was an old-fashioned do-gooder, responding to the needs he saw with innovative solutions. As a result, he wound up accomplishing a lot of good.
“Emma,” a young Jewish woman who we met in 2019, didn’t belong to a synagogue. She didn’t have a Jewish partner. She didn’t observe Jewish rituals regularly. On most surveys about religion, she would not seem very engaged with Judaism.
But as Emma talked about what she did in her free time, a very different picture began to emerge. She visited Jewish websites and enjoyed listening to Jewish music. She read books about Jewish topics and had recently attended a retreat for young Jewish adults to learn Torah while also doing yoga.
She was highly invested in learning about Judaism, but she explored her identity without joining traditional institutions.
Most major surveys about religion ask whether someone belongs to a congregation, how often they attend services, whether they pray regularly and whether belief is important in their lives. Those measures help identify broad shifts, like the growing percentage of Americans who are religiously unaffiliated: the “nones.”
But many Americans’ religious lives, like Emma’s, are not disappearing; they are moving away from membership of traditional institutions. To understand what religion looks like in 21st-century America, researchers may need to ask different questions.
Learning through art
As scholars of Judaismand education, we have been exploring how people learn about religion beyond traditional places like synagogues, Jewish schools and summer camps. Between 2019 and early 2023, we spoke with hundreds of people and explored different leisure time activities to discover what people learn about Judaism and Jewishness through cultural arts.
We interviewed dozens of audience members at Jewish-themed shows on Broadway, such as “Leopoldstadt”and “Parade.” We attended Jewish concerts and asked attendees what they learned. We explored how social media communities offer spaces to talk about different Jewish topics, like what fans learned about ultra-Orthodox Judaism from watching the television show “Shtisel.”
‘Shtisel,’ an Israeli series about an ultra-Orthodox family in Jerusalem, ran for three seasons.
Our research revealed that there is a vibrant ecosystem of people learning about religion in their leisure time. Through the arts, both Jews and non-Jews encounter Jewish history, Jewish religious practices and representations of Jewish communities.
Screen and stage
Most people we spoke with told us that they felt meaningful connections to Judaism during activities that would rarely appear on a standard religion survey.
“Joan,” an unmarried woman in her 50s from Connecticut, told us that she was deeply invested in Judaism, but felt that synagogues and Jewish community centers were not welcoming to single people without families. Instead of joining a Jewish institution, she watched Jewish-themed TV shows and movies on Netflix, and joined social media communities to chat with other fans.
“Luis,” who lived in Boston but was born in Argentina, was a Sephardic Jew, a group that traces their ancestry and traditions to Jewish communities who once lived in Spain and Portugal. His wife was Ashkenazi, meaning her ancestors came from Central and Eastern Europe. She considered herself secular, and so the couple joined the Worker’s Circle, a nonreligious Ashkenazi institution rather than a synagogue.
Yet Luis loved deepening his knowledge of Sephardic culture, and he often attended concerts of music in Ladino, a Sephardic language related to Spanish, with other Sephardic immigrants.
American singer Sarah Aroeste writes and performs in Ladino.
For Joan and Luis, these activities were not peripheral to their Jewish lives. Rather, they were central avenues for learning and community. We interviewed hundreds of Jews who told us that cultural experiences were opportunities to reflect on Jewish practices, explore questions of belonging, connect with family histories and find friends with common interests.
New questions
Some aspects of these patterns were distinctive to Judaism. Historically, many Jews have understood Judaism to be a cultural world, and not only a theological tradition. Learning about cultural dimensions of Judaism has long been part of Jewish education.
The broader phenomenon of informal learning, though, extended far beyond a single tradition. Across America, increasing numbers of people learn about religion through media, cultural productions and digital networks. Christians may study biblical themes through podcasts, online discussion groups or religious influencers. Muslims may participate in online learning communities that connect believers across the world.
The challenge for religion researchers, then, is not simply to determine whether engagement with religion is rising or falling. Rather, it is to develop more nuanced ways of understanding how people explore religious themes and practices, beyond traditional institutions. Only then can we more fully understand how contemporary Americans actually live their religious lives.
