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Esteemed by Oscar Wilde, England’s ‘greatest Jewess’ may finally be getting her due
For book lovers, the news that Cambridge University has acquired a previously sealed personal archive of Amy Levy, a Victorian Jewish novelist and poet who won praise from literary notables of her era, is a cause for celebration.
Levy’s 1888 novel Reuben Sachs is an exasperated, yet affectionate, look at English Jewish middle-class life. Levy, the daughter of a prosperous stockbroker, knew whereof she spoke. At the British Library in London, Levy rubbed elbows with Eleanor Marx, daughter of the author of Das Kapital.
In her own way, Levy, who died by suicide at the age of 27, was an anti-capitalist, although not because she favored Jewish spirituality instead. Her family only occasionally attended the West London Synagogue of British Jews, a Reform congregation located on Upper Berkeley Street. Instead of finding inspiration in Jewish ritual, Levy, in her 1886 essay, “Middle-Class Jewish Women of To-Day,” printed in The Jewish Chronicle, noted her type of mishpocheh expected daughters to marry and raise children.
Anyone interested in something beyond marriage and family, Levy wrote, must go “beyond the tribal limits” or more or less flee the family home. Levy admiringly cited examples of fellow English Jews who had become independent overachievers in their fields: Helen Zimmern, who translated Nietzsche and wrote on Schopenhauer; Hertha Ayrton, an electrical engineer, mathematician and physicist; and Mathilde (born Cohen) Blind, a poet.
The eponymous hero of Levy’s Reuben Sachs debates a fellow Jew who is dismayed by materialistic, success-obsessed capitalists, Jewish or not. Sachs retorts that despite a “cruel” history, Jewish people have finally “shamed the nations into respect” due to “self-restraint, our self-respect, our industry, our power of endurance, our love of race, home, and kindred.”
Sachs confesses that he is “exceedingly fond of [his] people.” Jews may disappear through assimilation, but the “strange, strong instinct which has held us so long together is not a thing easily eradicated.” He even foresees a form of post-Jewish reunion of Yiddishkeit: “Jew will gravitate to Jew, though each may call himself by another name.”
Levy’s reflections were interlarded with other opinions about Jews that reflected some of the prejudices of her time, about the supposed ugliness of Ashkenazi Jews, compared to the reputed noble beauty of Sephardim (reference is made in the novel to the “the ill-made sons and daughters of Shem”).
But in Reuben Sachs, she also expressed delight at the sheer gusto of Jewish life in London, writing of “excellent” bargain-hunting Jewish shoppers at Whiteley’s department store in Bayswater who radiated a “whole-hearted enjoyment that was good to see.”
Despite such enthusiasm, the UK-based newspaper The Jewish World kvetched that Levy “apparently delights in the task of persuading the general public that her own kith and kin are the most hideous types of vulgarity.” The critic added with dismay that Levy proudly supported “anti-Semitic theories of the clannishness of her people and the tribalism of their religion.”
Closer to the truth was Levy’s own explanation, published in the essay “The Jew in Fiction,” two years before the publication of Reuben Sachs, that she felt that Jewish characters should be depicted as well-rounded humans with good and less admirable aspects. For Levy, Dickens, Thackeray, and even George Eliot’s Daniel Deronda were unacceptably “superficial.” Levy saw the Jews in Deronda as improbably noble, calling them a “little group of enthusiasts” with their “yearnings after the Holy Land.”
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Her sometimes ironic dismissal of Jewish beliefs and concerns were summed up in an obituary that appeared in an 1890 edition of Woman’s World, written by its editor, Oscar Wilde, who had published her articles. Wilde observed that Levy’s “family was Jewish,” but as she matured, she “gradually ceased to hold the orthodox doctrines of her nation, retaining, however, a strong race feeling.”
Levy was also a self-assertive urban dweller; her hometown of London was an essential part of her life. In her tongue-in-cheek “Ballade of an Omnibus,” she celebrated her disobedience of the social convention that women should remain in the sheltered interior of London city buses; Levy preferred to delight in views from the top deck of vehicles (“When summer comes, I mount in state/The topmost summit.”)
Literary historian Carolyn Lake has suggested that Levy may have been concealing a lesbian identity, hypothesizing that Levy’s tragic destiny may have been partly due to the pressure of being marginalized in three groups, as a Jewish woman who did not conform to a heterosexual orientation.
In 1926, the historian Beth Zion (Roochel) Lask, author of The Jews in England: A History For Young People read an essay before the Jewish Historical Society of England arguing that Levy was the “greatest Jewess England has thus far produced.”
Levy’s stout-hearted resolve to innovate pursued her even posthumously; she specified in her will that she should be the first Jewish woman to be cremated in England. Her family respected her wishes in this respect, just as the fact that personal papers have survived to be purchased by Cambridge University is partly due to the faith of the Levy family in the enduring value of her work. The Cambridge archive, when fully examined by researchers, may help to change Levy’s reputation from writer appreciated by comparatively few mavens to a literary Lazarus with a wide-ranging readership that she has long deserved.
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Ritchie Torres Faces New Socialist Opponent in Democratic Primary Race Amid DSA Victory Lap Over Mamdani Win
US Rep. Ritchie Torres (D-NY) speaks during the House Financial Services Committee hearing in Washington, DC, Sept. 30, 2021. Photo: Al Drago/Pool via REUTERS
Public defender and Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) organizer Dalourny Nemorin has launched a primary challenge against US Rep. Ritchie Torres in New York’s 15th Congressional District, setting up a competitive intra-party contest in one of the nation’s poorest districts.
Nemorin announced her campaign on Wednesday at the Andrew Freedman Home in the Bronx, where she emphasized housing affordability, public housing conditions, immigrant services, and economic hardship as central issues facing the district. She said many residents feel underserved and argued that the district requires “a new type of leadership.” The area has a median household income of about $44,000, with more than 30 percent of residents living below the poverty line.
Torres, first elected in 2020, is a high-profile Democrat known for his work on housing oversight and for being the first openly LGBTQ Afro-Latino member of Congress. He currently serves on the House Committee on Financial Services and has been a vocal supporter of Israel, a position that has drawn national attention and, in some cases, criticism from the Democratic Party’s left wing.
Nemorin, a member of the far-left DSA, is directly targeting Torres on campaign financing and foreign-policy stances, criticizing his acceptance of contributions from real-estate developers and from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC). She argued these ties reflect a misalignment between the congressman’s priorities and the needs of the district. Torres’s campaign has previously defended its donor base as consistent with his longstanding policy positions and record.
“I think the country is talking about a new type of representation, a new type of Democrat, a new type of leadership, which is what Zohran’s race represents,” she said, referring to Zohran Mamdani, who was elected mayor of New York City last week.
Mamdani, a democratic socialist and anti-Israel activist, is also a member of the DSA, which appears to see his victory as a sign of momentum. The organization has reportedly created a list of far-left demands for Mamdani when he assumes office. Most of the demands concern boycotts targeting Israeli-linked entities.
Nemorin’s challenge highlights ongoing divisions between establishment Democrats and progressive organizers in New York City. Her campaign launch drew a largely young audience, signaling an effort to mobilize voters who have historically had low turnout in the district. Her campaign has said it will focus on door-to-door organizing and outreach in public-housing complexes.
Since entering Congress, Torres has positioned himself as an outspoken ally of Israel. As the Democratic Party has continued to grow increasingly critical of Israel over the past two years, amid the Gaza war, Torres has staunchly defended the Jewish state’s right to defend itself from existential threats such as the Hamas and Hezbollah terrorist groups. He has also spoken against rising antisemitism in New York City, even calling on local universities to adopt more vigorous policies protecting Jewish students. However, his strident support for Israel has sparked ire among the left flank of his own party.
Torres enters his reelection bid with significant advantages, including incumbency, name recognition, fundraising capacity, and a political network built over multiple election cycles. Primary defeats of sitting members of Congress remain rare, but progressive groups have succeeded in previous New York races when able to drive high turnout among younger voters and renters. Torres is expected to receive huge levels of support from the Jewish community within his district.
Moreover, Torres represents the poorest district for young people in the country, which is majority black and Latino, demographics with which far-left candidates have historically struggled. Observers have also pointed out that former New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo won Torres’s district during this year’s Democratic mayoral primary in New York City over the more progressive Mamdani, suggesting that the district possesses a deep reservoir of moderate voters.
The Democratic primary is scheduled for June 2026. Both campaigns are expected to center their messaging on housing, affordability, and constituent services. However, Torres’s opponents, including former New York assemblyman Michael Blake, have taken repeated swipes against his record on Israel, indicating that they will attempt to center the war in Gaza as a main point of attack during the primary. In his launch video, Blake attacked Torres for supposedly supporting a “genocide” in Gaza.
“I am ready to fight for you and lower your cost of living while Ritchie fights for a genocide,” Blake said in an announcement video.
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Her parents fled Mexico and Mandatory Palestine, taking their traumas with them
When Colette Ghunim’s parents first met in 1978, they quickly learned they had something in common: They both were forced to leave their homelands.
In her documentary Traces of Home, Ghunim travels with her immediate family back to her parents’ home cities. Hosni, Ghunim’s father, was expelled with his family from Safed, Mandatory Palestine, in 1948, when he was four years old. Ghunim’s mother Iza left Mexico City as a child to escape her abusive father. The film uses archival footage from Ghunim’s childhood, photos from her parents’ past, and animation to portray the harrowing journeys both her parents took. It’s a moving study of how trauma is inherited, but skirts some of the geopolitical issues at its core.
Ghunim, director of The People’s Girls, a documentary about sexual harassment in Egypt, explains in Traces that she never felt truly connected to either of her ethnic backgrounds, Mexican or Palesitnian. Her parents’ goal, she says, was to “make my life simple, safe, and American.”
It was also supposed to be tidy and unemotional. Archival footage shows Ghunim at five years old reading a letter from “Santa” reminding her of her promise to her mom: “No more crying.” Such a display of unpleasant feeling would disrupt the image of a perfect household.
The film unpacks how these expectations were in part the way Ghunim’s parents responded to their traumatic pasts — but these restrictions had unintentional consequences for their children: Ramsey developed an abusive relationship with alcohol in college; Ghunim turned to binge eating as a coping mechanism.
The trickling down of emotional damage from Ghunim’s parents to her feels like an apt metaphor for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The Jews that came to Israel were carrying pain of their own, fleeing persecutions and pogroms in Europe. The resulting conflict has further harmed both Israelis and Palestinians.
Although the parallels between how the region and Ghunim have inherited burdens feels apparent, it’s not part of the film. Hosni summarizes the founding of Israel as Britain supporting Jewish European settlers by giving them Palestine. For some, the broader context of why Jews were fleeing Europe may seem irrelevant, but within the context of a film about transitory trauma, its absence feels striking.
We do see how badly trust has broken down in the Middle East. While trying to find Hosni’s old home in Safed, Hosni approaches a local man, telling him “I could tell from your face you are Arab.” The man turns out to be a Syrian Jew who has lived in Safed a long time. While trying to help them locate Hosni’s house, he grows visibly agitated thinking about what Hosni has lost. He rushes to assure the group that he feels bad for Hosni, telling them “Don’t think that I’m a bad Israeli.”
As their search starts to prove futile, Ghunim begins to cry.
“It’s OK,” her father assures her as he hugs her. Maybe worried about her breaking the promise she made to her mom when she was five, he tells her “Calm down.”
But keeping our feelings inside is often easier said than done. And, as Traces shows, it rarely is the right thing to do.
Traces of Home is premiering at DOC NYC on November 14, with a subsequent screening on November 15.
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So, there was a swastika at my Airbnb
A few weekends ago I went upstate for a wedding, and briefly lived like a Victorian gentleman with a problematic taste in interior design.
Staying in a historic mansion (h/t Airbnb) in Newburgh, New York, I felt transported into a game of Clue, minus the murder. Was it me in the study with a sandwich? The parlor had a marble bust redolent of antiquity. From my top floor room there were panoramic views of the Hudson hills bursting with fall foliage. And then there was, at the corner of the landing … well, as I told my girlfriend, it’s more of a visual.
“Please do not be alarmed, but there are sauvastikas (more commonly known as swastikas) inlaid in the corners of the floors dating back to 1866, before Hitler was born,” the extensive house instructions said.
I wasn’t alarmed, more amused. (For context, the guests were almost entirely Asian with a couple of Ashkenazi Jews — and a miniature poodle.)
Of course I knew the Eastern origins of the motif. And I noted, as did our hosts, that these swastikas faced the opposite direction of the hooked cross favored by the Third Reich. The owners were right to say in their literature that the symbol “was stolen.”
Nazis really do ruin everything.
The architect, Frederick Withers, could only really be faulted for orientalism, which at the time wasn’t a dirty word. In any case, this was a landmark building registered with the historical society, and as such the swastikas couldn’t be altered. (“On a positive note,” our hosts added, “the original Tiffany stained glass window is well preserved up in the dining room.”)
At the wedding, I made the possible faux pas of mentioning the floors to friends of ours, one of whom grew up in India. It had just been Diwali, and he said kids draw swastikas everywhere during the festival.
“You’re taking it back,” I joked.
On the contrary, he said, they never really let it get taken away. Indians still use the swastika to signify peace and prosperity — its original meaning.
Maybe there’s a lesson there. Not really about ancient Indian symbols, but about what we feel comfortable letting Nazis get away with.
It’s long been a pet peeve of mine that so much of Jewish culture is boiled down to a period of about 12 years in a history that stretches back millennia. That public figures caught saying something antisemitic are immediately dispatched to the nearest Holocaust museum, rather than a Shabbat dinner or a museum of Jewish art.
When people online get defensive about their views on the Jews, they often mention how moved they were by Anne Frank’s diary, as if that was the answer key for understanding our peoplehood, and not just assigned reading. (In most schools in the U.S., the only time students hear anything about Jews is in a unit on the Holocaust.)
Members of the tribe are far from immune to this phenomenon. To be an educated, secular Jew, for many, is to have endured a screening of Schindler’s List — or, if you’re more ambitious, the more than 9 hours of Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah. You don’t see the Talmud in every Jewish home (granted, it takes up a lot of shelf space), but you can probably find a copy of William Shirer’s Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.
Jewish identity has been shaped by our persecution — and remembrance is an important Jewish imperative — but as I’m far from the first to point out, when we take history and memory culture to extremes, we end up ceding our own narrative to those who wanted to erase us.
As scholar Miriam Udel put it in her recent book, “The Holocaust is, in a profound sense, not a Jewish story.” This stopped me when I first read it, but the more I considered it, the more I saw her point. The way the Shoah is typically related, it’s not a story where Jews have a great deal of agency. Jews weren’t passive. Tales of resistance abound — and should be emphasized — but it’s still primarily a story in which something was done to the Jews, and for reasons the Jews had no real control over.
Indians don’t let Nazis have a monopoly on the swastika — why should Jews allow them to define Jewishness?
I am not advocating for the return of parquet-inlaid swastikas in Western homes, whatever their direction. I’m not even for a revival of the Hitler mustache that Michael Jordan once attempted to resuscitate in a Hanes undershirt commercial. But I do think there’s a wisdom in not permitting our enemies to distort our much older tradition.
In Yiddish, we say “mir veln zey iberlebn,” we will outlive them — them being Nazis, antisemites and the various Hamans that rise up in every generation. While today that seems aspirational, we must remember we were here first, and there’s far more to Jewish life than death.
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