Features
Astonishingly good debut novel by former Winnipegger Sandy Shefrin Rabin

By BERNIE BELLAN
One of the great joys of being in the position of editor of a Jewish newspaper is being on the receiving end of what seem to be a never-ending series of well-written books, either by current Winnipeggers or former Winnipeggers.
In the past three months I’ve had the pleasure of reading books by Allan Levine, Jack London, and Mira Sucharov. I would recommend any of them to readers of this paper – as I have in previous issues.
But, when I was contacted by another former Winnipegger by the name of Sandy Shefrin (whose married name is Rabin) some time back, when Sandy told me that she had written a book and was looking for a good publisher, I must admit that while I remembered Sandy’s name as someone who had grown up in Winnipeg around the same time as me, unlike the three aforementioned writers, I had no idea whether Sandy was a good writer or not.
If truth be told, when Sandy had also written in her email to me that what she wanted to publish was her first novel, as someone who has also received many first-time novels, my expectations were not all that great.
And so, when Sandy contacted me again recently to say that she had published her novel – and had followed up my advice to contact Friesen’s Publishers – a company which I knew had a reputation of being a quality publisher, I replied to her that I would get to her book once I finished reading some other books whose authors I had promised I would review.
I shouldn’t have waited.
From the moment I began reading the first chapter of “Prairie Sonata” I realized that Sandy was a writer of immense talent. Her descriptive language was breathtakingly beautiful – not overly laden with the kind of flowery prose that one might have anticipated reading when a first-time writer wants to show off how expansive his or her vocabulary is, but so evocative that I could picture her scenes as vividly as if I were right there with her characters.
And, what should “Prairie Sonata” turn out be about, but a story set in a fictitious Manitoba town called “Ambrosia”, beginning in 1948. Ambrosia actually is a thinly-veiled version of Winnipeg in so many respects (and if you read the following article, in which I ask Sandy why she didn’t just use the real Winnipeg as the location for her novel, you’ll read the answer to that question).
The book opens with the narrator, an 11-year-old girl by the name of Mira, wistfully recalling her childhood:
“And I would go back there if I could. Despite the freezing winters and piercing winds. If I could be in the same house and look out of the same windows at the long, arching tree branches laden with snow and watch the feathery snowflakes waft down from the sky like fairy dust. And if I could hear my mother in the kitchen, the rhythmic tapping of her wooden spoon against the sides of the bowl as she turned flour and shortening into a delicious cherry pie, so delicious it was almost like a miracle.”
As the story develops we learn that Mira has what we might consider an idyllic childhood, surrounded by loving parents – her father the town surgeon, her mother a thoroughly competent homemaker who always seems to find the right thing to say to Mira, and her little adoring brother Sammy, who is three years younger than Mira.
Into this tableaux of happy characters enters “Chaver B”, as he is known – a new teacher in the Peretz School (a name familiar to anyone who grew up in Winnipeg’s Jewish community). Chaver B, or Ari Bergman, which is his full name, is a survivor of the Holocaust and, as one might anticipate, he carries an extremely heavy burden within him.
As it also turns out, Chaver B is an accomplished violinist, but for some reason he does not play the violin himself any more. He is invited to the Adler home for Sabbath dinner and, while there, he discovers that Mira is also studying violin.
He offers to give Mira violin lessons when he is told that her former violin teacher has left Ambrosia. What develops though is not just a warm relationship between student and teacher, it is an opportunity for Mira to learn about life and for Chaver B to have someone to whom he can open up about what has happened to him.
There are many insertions of Yiddish phrases, often whole sentences throughout the book, and while the author does provide translations for many of them, some are undoubtedly included just to add a flavour to the time and place in which the story is set. While it would undoubtedly help to be able to understand Yiddish in order to appreciate the precise aptness of a certain expression, as someone whose knowledge of Yiddish is rather limited myself, by sounding out the words in my mind I was taken back to a time when my own grandparents spoke Yiddish between themselves. I would think that even someone who knows no Yiddish at all can get a sense of the cadence of that wonderful language in reading the Yiddish in this book.
While there have been more books written about the Holocaust than any other subject in history, “Prairie Sonata” is not really another Holocaust book. It forms a major component of the story but, as Mira grows from a bright and cheery 11-year-old to a mature 15-year-old, we get a full sense of what life was like in a bygone era, not too long after the end of the Second World War (which, by the way, precedes Sandy Shefrin’s own childhood by several years; this is not an autobiography, as Sandy explained to me.)
Each chapter of the book begins with a quote from something written by a host of well-known writers – and although they reveal the extraordinarily eclectic breadth of the author’s acquaintance with a vast number of literary works, trying to understand the significance of each quote is a bit of a puzzle. I’ll leave it to others who have far more refined literary tastes than my own to figure that out – and perhaps get back to me with an explanation.
One other wonderful element to the story is the explanation of musical terms that may be familiar enough, but whose actual origin is likely known only by music students themselves. In one vividly drawn chapter, Chaver B explains to Mira how a sonata is actually structured. In doing so, the author is also explaining to the reader why her book is structured the way that it is.
Music plays such a central role in “Prairie Sonata” that I often had to stop reading to go and listen to an actual piece of music that is referenced so that I might understand why that particular piece would elicit the type of reaction that it does from Mira when she first hears it played.
To reveal too much of the plot would be a disservice to readers. Suffice to say that, as Mira learns more from Chaver B about what happened to him during the war, she begins to understand the meaning of anti-Semitism. Having grown up in a rather sheltered environment in Ambrosia she is really quite innocent, even though she would have been a young girl during World War II. Discovering the unparalleled cruelties of what happened to Europe’s Jews through Chaver B’s story is something that will resonate with anyone of any age – not just someone close to Mira’s age.
While “Prairie Sonata” might be considered a work of juvenile fiction, and it is definitely recommended for young readers – perhaps even pre-teens if they would be interested in a coming of age story, I would say that this book – if word of its brilliance spreads, will find an audience especially among Winnipeggers and former Winnipeggers who remember a time when life was somewhat simpler – without all the technological distractions that nowadays seem to combine to rob young people of the pleasures that come with encountering the world without having to experience it through social media.
Our community has produced a number of talented female writers whose books are intended for a young audience, including Carol Matas, Eva Wiseman, and Harriet Zaidman. While we can now add Sandy Shefrin’s name to that list, I would suggest that “Prairie Sonata” can fit into so many different categories of fiction that it will appeal to readers of all ages. And, at a time when so many of us are looking for something that will help take us through what, for most of us, is the most difficult period in history, I could recommend nothing more absorbing than taking your mind off what we are going through than this book.
Prairie Sonata
By Sandy Shefrin Rubin
Friesen Press, published 2020
267 pages
Currently available on Amazon in either print or Kindle format
Sandy Shefrin on growing up in Winnipeg and how she came to write “Prairie Sonata”
By BERNIE BELLAN
When I was first contacted by Sandy Shefrin Rabin quite some time ago, I told her that I remembered the name Sandy Shefrin from long ago – when we both were teenagers. When she went on to tell me that she was a first-time novelist, well – I’ve heard from a fair number of writers over the years asking me whether I’d like to read their books, so I can’t say that I was in any rush to read her book.
At the time that she contacted me I didn’t ask Sandy for any information about her background. It was only after I heard from her again not too long ago to tell me that her book was actually published – and she wondered whether I would like to read it, that I became interested in finding out more about her. I asked her to send me some biographical information.
So, in addition to her book, which she sent me as a pdf, she also sent me a picture of the book jacket. The back of the book jacket contains the following biographical information:
“Sandy Shefrin Rabin grew up in Winnipeg, Manitoba, in a community much like Mira’s. She holds both a B.A. in English and an M.D. degree from the University of Manitoba. She completed an Internal Medicine residency at McGill University and her Neurology residency at the New York Hospital Cornell Medical Center in Manhattan. She currently practices Neurology in Marin County, near San Francisco.
“Sandy has written for the Marin Independent Journal and has been published in several medical journals. She lives in Mill Valley, California, with her husband and has three sons. Prairie Sonata is her first novel.”
In a subsequent email I asked Sandy to expand some upon her educational background and how she ended up where she is.
Here’s what she wrote back:
“I grew up in north end Winnipeg on Inkster Blvd. I am a graduate of I. L. Peretz Folk School and St. John’s High. I earned a B.A. in English from the University of Manitoba and my M.D. degree from the University of Manitoba.” (She later told me she left Winnipeg after graduating from medical school, when she was 25.)
A neurologist, I thought – with a very impressive CV. So, why did she decide to become a novelist I wondered –and, to be honest, since I knew that we are close in age (and I’m not exactly a spring chicken), why did she wait until now to turn out her very first novel?
So, I asked Sandy that question. Here’s what she wrote back:
“I wrote the book for a few different reasons. I had just written an article about my mother in remembrance of the fourth anniversary of her passing, and although I felt good about having remembered her that way, I was left with an uneasiness; after a couple of generations, who would remember her, and who would remember my father who died almost fifty years ago? They would become no more than people in photographs or videos. Who would remember their essence?
“So I decided to write a story set on the Manitoba prairies and use my parents as prototypes for the main characters. I created a fictional town, Ambrosia, since my mother was born and grew up in Winkler. In the end, neither my father nor my mother became any one character in particular, but you can see glimpses of them in several of the characters throughout the novel.
“I feel privileged to have had a wonderful childhood growing up in the north end of Winnipeg. Much of what I create in the novel is based on the Winnipeg Jewish community – especially Peretz School – fictionalized and transplanted to Ambrosia. Peretz School was a unique and wonderful place with caring teachers, and I wanted to capture that experience and hope that I have done so in a positive way.
“Another impetus for the novel was the state of the world at the time I began writing. I started writing in early 2016 when ISIS was at its peak, and we were able to witness their atrocities on television. I was shocked that the world had descended to this level of barbarism, and it made me wonder if civilization had advanced at all over the ages. While growing up, I remember thinking that the world was definitely going to become a better place over the years, but it certainly seemed to be falling very short of that goal. Little did I know at that time that the next four years were going to bring even more turmoil — and not just Covid-19 – but also division among people and worsening racism and anti-Semitism around the world. These last four years serve as a lesson in how quickly a society can change when presented with misinformation and lies, and how we all need to remain vigilant against bigotry and hatred, issues that my novel addresses. Mira, my main protagonist, struggles not only to cope with the random uncontrollable things that happen in her life but also to understand why one human being would willfully perpetrate evil on another. Out of these ideas grew Mira’s journey from innocence to experience.
“There are various themes in the book, both timely and timeless, and I think it would be a great addition to high school and college reading lists, and book clubs. I’ve included a Discussion and Study Guide at the end. I hope people enjoy reading it.”
Once I finished reading the book – and, if you read my adjoining review, you’ll see that I was simply floored at how good it was, I had so many more questions for Sandy. (By the way, as I write this, I’ve handed the book to my wife, who is also an avid reader. She herself said she was astonished at how good the book was when she had only finished the first few chapters.)
I asked Sandy whether she still had any relatives in Winnipeg?
She wrote back: “I still have relatives in Winnipeg from both sides, Shefrin and Danzker. My mom’s maiden name was Clara Danzker and she married my dad, Sam Shefrin. I have a sister, Myrna Shefrin, who now lives in Vancouver and a brother, Hersh Shefrin, who lives near me in Palo Alto. He won the distinguished alumnus award from the University of Manitoba in 2019. He’s an economist.” (We had an article by Myron Love in our May 29, 2019 issue about Hersh Shefrin’s receiving that award, by the way. You can find it on our website jewishpostandnews.ca if you enter the words “Hersh Shefrin” in our search engine.)
Although “Prairie Sonata” is labeled a work of fiction, there are so many passages that will remind quite a few of our readers of their own experiences, especially for anyone who had ever attended Peretz School, that I asked Sandy how much of the novel is based on her own experience?
She replied: “Good question. Prairie Sonata is a work of fiction; it’s not a memoir. Like many authors, my novel is informed by my own experiences, but it’s not autobiographical. I am not Mira. I never had a teacher like Chaver B nor did I ever have a relationship with a teacher even remotely similar to Mira’s and Chaver B’s relationship. “I was the youngest of three, not the oldest of two. My parents were not professionals. I studied piano for most of my youth, and learned a little violin in Junior High School, although one of my sons plays the violin. However, I did go to Peretz School, and I definitely wanted to capture the uniqueness and character of the school.
“Although I grew up in the 60s, the story takes place in the late 40s and early 50s, and the historical events that I describe took place during that time period, or some even earlier. Even some minor things were not part of the 60s. For example, there was no Yiddish theatre in Winnipeg in the 60s, as far as I know. The Friday night get-togethers at Peretz School were long gone by then. So I hope that anyone who attended Peretz School “would identify with the book.”
Something that I kept wondering as I made my way through the book was: Why did Sandy create a fictitious town – Ambrosia, when so much of what happens would be so familiar to anyone who grew up in Winnipeg’s Jewish community?
Her answer was that “I debated that for a long time, and you may be right, perhaps I should have, but ultimately I came to the decision to not set the story in Winnipeg for a few different reasons. I initially thought I would model the protagonist after my mother, who grew up in Winkler, although in the end Mira turned out to be her own character. I was interested in a setting closer to nature, and believed I could best accomplish that in a rural setting. I didn’t want a “city” book; I wanted a “country book,” a book about all that the fields and sky and the landscape evokes. Natural imagery is a big part of the novel, both mirroring and contrasting with what the characters are experiencing, and the landscape almost becomes a character in of itself.
“Someone suggested that I use a real place, such as Altona or Winkler, but I didn’t want to do that either, because I really knew very little about them and didn’t believe that I could accurately portray them in that time period, and would likely receive criticism for my inaccuracies. As I said, the book is not autobiographical, and I thought that if it were set outside of Winnipeg, people would be less likely to view it as a memoir.
“The novel is about Mira’s journey from innocence to experience. Ambrosia is defined as “the sweet nectar of the gods.” I thought that was the perfect name for a place that embodies the sweetness of innocence, in particular Mira’s innocence.
“Overall, I believed that a fictitious town would make the story more universal. So, I don’t consider the town of Ambrosia to be a façade, and I hope others don’t either. I wanted to create a work of fiction, and I thought that was the best way to accomplish that goal.”
Finally, I asked Sandy about her married name. How did she end up marrying someone with the name “Rabin” I wondered- and, was this really her first novel? (which I found so hard to believe because it’s so beautifully polished from beginning to end).
Sandy responded: “Rabin is really my married name. Funny you asked about a nom de plume, because my husband often said I should take one. I was never sure if he was serious. As far as I know, it was just shortened from Rabinowitz, but we haven’t talked about it in a while, so I’ll ask him again tomorrow.
“This is my first novel. I think my last short story was in grade six about the Mystery of Cornelia Hilltop — the mystery being that she had a twin, and then I wrote a short story that I sent into Chatelaine when I was about 14 that was rejected. I don’t even remember what that was about. I wrote a poem when Bobbie Kennedy died and sent it to the family, to which they graciously replied, but no novels.
“I know I’ve said already many times that this is not an autobiography, but I did have to get into my 11 and 12 year old head to write the book, and once I did, it just seemed to take off. I often wonder if I could write the same book again, or any other for that matter. I hope I can and will, but once I got going, it just seemed to flow. It was a lot of fun to write.”
Features
“Two Weeks in Toronto” is a sweet romantic novel, but with some major shortcomings
Review by BERNIE BELLAN As the former publisher of The Jewish Post & News, but still publisher of a popular website – jewishpostandnews.ca, I’ve long been inundated with requests to review books.
I tend to ignore almost all those requests – simply because I don’t have other reviewers available who are willing to review books – unlike years past when there were a few different individuals who would be willing to review books for the paper, so it falls on me to do all the reviewing.
Something else that’s happened more and more often in recent years is that authors become their own publicists and can be quite good at drawing attention to their books.
So it was that when I was contacted a month ago by a writer by the name of Amelia Doyle, who asked me whether I’d be interested in reading a book she’d written titled “Two Weeks in Toronto,” the name of that book was familiar to me as Amelia had contacted me last year to ask me whether I’d like to review her book back then.
I did take her up on her offer at that time – and began to read “Two Weeks in Toronto” but, if truth, be told, I lost interest in it. The book had some major flaws – and as romantic fiction I thought it lacked any real spark.
But, when Amelia contacted me again, this time her email noted that the book was a finalist in something called the Canadian Book Club Awards.
Really? I thought. Maybe I was too quick to put that book down – or to turn off my Kindle – as the case may be.
So, I began to read “Two Weeks in Toronto” all over again – with a promise to myself to finish it this time.
I should also add that of the many emails I’ve been receiving in recent years, many have been either from publicists for books or from the authors themselves, and many of the books I’ve been asked to review have been self-published.
It’s not all that difficult to publish a book nowadays and, in fact, many self-published books that I have read have been quite good.
In the case of “Two Weeks in Toronto,” after opening the book again many months after I had first taken a look at it though, I saw that it was published by something called “BRINKLEY Verlag.” I did some research on BRINKLEY Verlag and saw that it’s an Austrian publishing house, but with no information on its website whether it simply publishes books for a fee or whether it actually accepts manuscripts and publishes them without charging the author.
Also, on the title page of “Two Weeks in Toronto,” it says that the book was edited by someone by the name of Kelly McErlean.
Okay – the book had been published by some sort of publishing house and apparently, it had also been edited. I regarded both those things as pluses.
One more thing: I did do some research on Amelia Doyle and saw that she has authored at least a couple of other books: “A Dublin Love Story” and “The Rabbi’s Wife,” so she must have had at least some practice writing novels, I thought. By the way, if you Google Amelia Doyle and see what books she’s written, you can see they’re all described as “sweet romance.”
What does this have to do with my reviewing the book? you must be wondering.
Well, I’ve been in correspondence with Amelia Doyle and she seems such a nice person that I told myself I have to find something good to say about “Two Weeks in Toronto.”
But honestly, I tend to look at the novels my wife likes to read for guidance as to what women like when it comes to romance and many of the titles I see have a mystery element to them – or some rip roaring sex!
Here’s what AI says when you ask it what kind of romance novels women like to read: “Most women enjoy diverse romance novels, from steamy contemporary/spicy reads and funny rom-coms (like Emily Henry) to emotional historical sagas (like Outlander) or ‘romantasy,’ but popular choices often feature strong emotional connection, relatable characters, satisfying happily ever afters’ (HEA), and tropes like enemies-to-lovers or billionaire romance, with recent trends favoring diverse voices and escapism.”
So where does “Two Weeks in Toronto” fit into any of those descriptions, if any?
Well, it does have a romance at the centre of it, but the romance is so predictable that it hardly whets the appetite.
What it does have though, and which might make it of particular interest to Jewish readers, is a female Jewish protagonist by the name of Ciara Walsh. (Ciara, I had to look up, is an Irish name, and is pronounced Kee-ara. What a nice name!)
The person with whom you just know from the outset Ciara is going to fall in love is her dreamy Irish dentist, Ethan O’Leary, tall and blue-eyed – and strange as it may seem: unattached.
At a certain point we find out that Ciara is Jewish – when Ethan comments on the mezuzah on her door, but as to how Jewish she is – well, that was something I began to wonder about as the book went on.
Now, it’s important to note that the book is set right around Christmas – and Chanukah, and the juxtaposition of those two holidays enters into the plot time and time again. There seemed to be so little distinction between the atmosphere pervading both holidays – wintertime, gift giving, family get-togethers, that I wondered whether Amelia Doyle might not be Jewish, but was trying to attract a Jewish audience by injecting some Jewish notes into her book – so I asked her this question: “Are you Jewish in any way, e.g., have some Jewish family?”
Amelia answered: I’m halachically Jewish. “Both my parents come from observant Jewish families and I grew up in a Conservative home.
“Generally speaking, you can find anything from ultra-orthodox to atheist Jews in my family. As you can imagine, living in Europe is not easy as a Jewish person. (I should note that, after further researching Amelia, I discovered that she lives in Dublin.)
“The characters in ‘Two Weeks in Toronto’ were written on purpose in a matter that is more on the liberal side as many of my friends are Reform or in interfaith marriages. This is where the inspiration for this specific book came from.”
In the same email in which I asked Amelia whether she was indeed Jewish, I also noted that I thought the way she intermingled Christmas and Chanukah was deliberately intended to “resonate” with non-Jewish readers.
Amelia responded: “I’m Jewish and there are many ways of practicing Judaism. In this book I decided to write about a non-orthodox Jewish family.”
A “non-orthodox Jewish family?” There’s not much Jewish about them, other than the fact that Ciara’s father, Ian, decided to convert to Judaism when he was younger – for reasons that are totally unexplained. Ciara’s mother, Giuliana (which, apparently, is the Italian spelling for Juliana), is definitely not Jewish, although she doesn’t seem to have much religious orientation either way.
But, let’s not get lost in what is, in essence, a discussion totally irrelevant to this book.
My qualms with “Two Weeks in Toronto” have to do with the writing style – which could have used some good editing. I mentioned that in an email to the author when I was just getting into the book. I suggested that the dialogue could have been much improved had the characters used contractions when speaking, so that for instance, instead of a character saying “I am just stepping out” they could have said, “I’m just stepping out” – which sounds so much more authentic.
Another aspect of this book that drove me crazy is there no explanation for the behaviour of Ciara’s mother, Giuliana, or her sister, Gabriella. Cinderella’s stepmother comes across as kindly compared to Giuliana and, as for Gabriella, who is occasionally referred to as “Bridezilla” by others, well – to use the Cinderella comparison again, she is beyond detestable.
But why? What on earth could sweet, loving Ciara ever have done to provoke such unbridled hatred from her mother and sister? I kept waiting to read an answer – you know, like Ciara was so beautiful that her sister despised her or Giuliana was her stepmother – but no, it’s never explained.
And then there’s Ciara’s relationship with Ethan. Yes, it’s cute how they end up going to Toronto together – to attend Gabriella’s wedding, and they end up sleeping in the same bed together – but without having sex!
So, again, I had to ask Amelia why that was? Here’s what she answered: “In my opinion, most romance books these days are far too explicit. ‘Sweet Romances’ (also known as ‘Clean Romance’) are on the rise again at the moment and this is what my publisher asked me to write.
“Personally, I prefer to have the focus on the relationship and not any sexual relations.
“Not sure about how it is in Canada, but many publishers in Europe as well as the US started publishing ‘clean’ versions of steamier books, not to alienate readers who don’t want to read sexually explicit scenes.”
I’m shattered! “Clean romances” are “on the rise again?” (There’s almost a phallic pun in there, but we won’t go there.)
But hey, it’s almost Chanukah – and Christmas. “Two Weeks in Toronto” is set right around this time of year, so maybe this review is timely. As it’s referred to in the book, this is a book that might make a good read for “Chrismuakkah.”
“Two Weeks in Toronto”
By Amelia Doyle
Published by BRINKLY Vertag, 2024
179 pages
Available on Amazon
Features
Today’s “Anti-Zionist” Propaganda was Nurtured in the Soviet Union
By HENRY SREBRNIK For centuries, Jews have been portrayed, by both religious and secular movements, as obstacles to universal order. Christian theology turned Judaism into the emblem of stubborn particularity. Modern ideologies secularized the script, making Jews stand for capitalism, communism, cosmopolitanism, or cultural decay. In the twentieth century, this logic reached its most lethal form in the fantasy of human renewal through the erasure of Jews, culminating in the Holocaust.
The twenty-first-century iteration recycles the same template in overlapping ways. Islamist movements merge “Jew,” “Zionist,” and “Israeli” into a demonic category whose elimination is a sacred duty. Parts of the Western left have reduced Israel to the very symbol of colonial domination.
What North American Jews are experiencing today, as the ideology of anti-Zionism spreads in left-of-centre spaces, looks eerily familiar to anyone who came of age in the 1970s Soviet Union. Just like antisemites battle against a fantasy of “the Jews” that exists in their own heads, the new anti-Zionists battle a “Zionism” that is conjured up by their own fevered imaginations.
Following the June 1967 war, with Israel’s victory over its Arab neighbours, who were intent on destroying the small Jewish state, anti-Zionism became a central tenet of Soviet propaganda, where “Zionism” was usually equated with self-conscious expressions of Jewishness. It was then that the antisemitic notion of Israel as an heir to Nazism and Fascism was popularized in the Soviet media.
It depicted Israel as the outpost of colonial oppression, Jews as betrayers of socialist internationalism. Soviet propagandists distorted the history of Zionism to underscore its supposedly inherent evil nature, ripping its founders and theorists out of historical context and, absurdly, presenting Zionists as the Jewish people’s greatest enemy. These “rootless cosmopolitans” were accused of corrupting socialism from within. By redefining Jews as racists, Zionism as colonialism, the Soviets handed progressives a vocabulary of virtue through which to disguise an old hatred.
In political cartoons and Soviet propaganda art, swastikas were routinely intertwined with Stars of David, and the Israeli military portrayed as resembling Nazi — and specifically SS — troops. If there is a Soviet propaganda subtext that highlights its ideological and propagandistic roots, it would be “Fascism Under a Blue Star,” the 1971 book by Evgeny Evseev, who had served as an Arabic interpreter for both Soviet leaders Nikita Khrushchev and Leonid Brezhnev. By the late 1970s, he had became one of the principal brains of the ultranationalist antisemitic movement in the USSR, know as the “Russian Party.”
Evseev’s book carried a subtitle redolent of Marxist clichés: “Truth about contemporary Zionism: Its ideology, practice, and the organizational system of major Jewish bourgeoisie.” On the illustration printed next to the title page, there was a black spider with both a swastika and a Star of David on top of its body; the spider’s web was spread over the West, from the United States to Britain, France and Italy.
Perhaps the vilest of all these tracts was “Caution: Zionism! Essays on the Ideology, Organisation and Practice of Zionism,” a 1970 attack by Yuri Ivanov. (By the way, it was republished by a left-wing group, The November 8th Publishing House, in Toronto in 2024.) The book’s singular achievement was to fit classic antisemitic conspiracy theory into the only philosophical framework permitted in the USSR — the Marxist-Leninist one — and rewrite it as anti-Zionist critique.
“Ivanov managed to supply a strong theoretical foundation for openly criticizing Zionism with the help of Marx’s and Lenin’s works, which no one could argue against,” Vladimir Bolshakov, another prominent “Zionologist,” recalled in his memoirs. I remember coming across it in the late 1970s while writing my PhD dissertation on Jews and Communists, and was shocked by its vituperative language and tone, not to mention falsehoods, worthy of the worst Nazi propaganda.
All of this bore terrible political fruit. On November 10, 1975, the United Nations passed General Assembly Resolution 3379, equating Zionism with racism. It remains the foundation stone of antisemitic anti-Zionism. It cast Israel, the collective Jew, as committing today’s ultimate crime. Despite being mass-murdered by Nazi racists, Jews became racists. And despite enduring history’s largest genocide, Jews are now accused of “genocide.”
Communist propagandists enjoyed manipulating words to trigger “Pavlovian” responses, the Princeton Kremlinologist Robert Tucker observed; their “ultimate weapon of political control would be the dictionary.”
Much has been written of late about the deep Soviet roots of today’s virulent anti-Zionism in the West. Some thirty-five years after the fall of the Soviet empire, the Soviet corpse continues to emit its infectious gases and poisons people’s minds and imaginations. After 7 October, parts of the Western Left responded not with horror but with slogans lifted from Soviet propaganda: Israel as colonial, Zionism as apartheid, Jews as global oppressors.
Today’s anti-Zionism is not actually concerned with the relationship Jews have with Israel. It is a project centered on producing villains. In this, it follows its predecessors: antisemitism and anti-Judaism. Antisemites were never concerned with the authenticity of Jewish identity, practice, or behaviour; they sought to construct “the Jew” as a monster.
Anti-Zionism repeats this mechanism, simply substituting “the Zionist” for “the Jew,” while inheriting the same foundational hatred. Failing to recognize that anti-Zionism, whose Soviet and Nazi genealogy reveals that it has nothing to do with Jews and their right to self-determination, is fundamentally a project of constructing fiends.
Antisemitism functions not merely as a prejudice but as a moral language, a grammar that shapes how societies explain disorder and assign blame. It provides simplicity where reality is complex and coherence where the world feels incoherent. For such people, it becomes a battle against a uniquely devious and implacable foe – something that cannot be resolved by elections or arguments, but only by confrontation. The logic points beyond persuasion to elimination.
The only way to be anti-Zionist without being an antisemite is to reject the legitimacy of all nation-states equally. The loudest supporters of Palestinian statehood are not doing that. No one should mistake it, or be taken in by those espousing it, for what it is. We should call it, along with antisemitism and anti-Judaism, as “Jew-hatred.” It is nothing more – or less.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.
Features
“Kaplan’s Plot” – newly released novel set in Chicago is both historical fiction and psychological drama
Reviewed by BERNIE BELLAN I had been searching for a new book this summer that would be of particular interest to Jewish Post readers when I came across the title of a new book that had yet to be released, called “Kaplan’s Plot.” It had received quite a bit of buzz on a number of websites that spotlight books that have – at least in part – a Jewish theme, although it still had not been reviewed when I first read about it.
The plot of the book, as it was described in those initial previews, certainly appealed to me, as it was said to combine a story about a Jewish gangster in Chicago in the early part of the 20th century with a modern day story about a man whose life had come completely unravelled and who was forced to return to Chicago to live with his dying mother.
I’ve been a fan of Jewish gangster stories for years, especially ones written by our own Allan Levine – and I’d often published stories about real life Jewish gangsters – or Jewish gangster fighters – as the case may be, in the pages of The Jewish Post & News (also on jewishpostandnews.ca).
Last year, for instance, I wrote a review of a book called “The Incorruptibles,” about efforts by law-abiding Jews in New York City in the early part of the 20th century to fight corruption. You can read my review here: “The Incorruptibles.”
Also, in the past I’ve run stories about Jewish underworld figures who either lived in Winnipeg or had a strong Winnipeg connection. One of the most popular stories ever to appear on our website, for instance (and which is still being widely viewed), is one that was written by Bill Redekopp – a former writer for the Free Press, who had profiled a fascinating Winnipeg bootlegger by the name of Bill Wolchock in his book, “Crimes of the Century – Manitoba’s Most Notorious True Crimes.” You can read Redekopp’s story about Wolchock at “Bill Wolchock.”
Another story that garnered quite a bit of attention when it was first published was Martin Zeilig’s story about Winnipeg-born Al Smiley, which appeared in the March 29, 2017 issue of The Jewish Post & News. The most interesting tidibt in Martin’s story was that Smiley was was sitting beside the notorious Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel when Siegel was murdered in 1947. That story doesn’t appear as a stand-alone story on our website, but you can find it by downloading the entire March 29, 2017 issue by entering a search through our “Search archive” link for Al Smiley.
One more story that dealt with Manitoba Jewish gangsters (and which also referenced the Bill Wolchock story) was one I wrote in 2023 titled “A deep dive into the lives of some shadier members of our community.” In that story I wrote about a book that was about to be published titled “Jukebox Empire: The Mob and the Dark Side of the American Dream.” It was the story of Wolf Rabin (born William “Wolfe” Rabinovitch), written by his nephew, David Rabinovitch.
All this serves as a very long winded preamble to a review of “Kaplan’s Plot.” I was somewhat disappointed to learn that the characters in the book are all fictitious, since the mobsters are so vividly drawn – although there are very brief references to real-life mobsters, including Al Capone, Meyer Lansky and Charles “Lucky” Luciano, that make you wonder whether some of the other mobsters might also have been real people.
According to information available about the author, Jason Diamond, this is his very first novel – a very impressive debut. He certainly brings to life a very nasty Chicago in the early part of the 20th century.
What makes what Diamond has written an even more admirable achievement is that the plot works both as a riveting mystery and as a thoughtful examination of a mother and son relationship.
The story alternates between a story set in modern day Chicago (in 2023) and another story that begins in Odesa in Ukraine in 1909, but soon moves to Chicago shortly thereafter.
At first, we read about a character by the name of Elijah Mendes, who has just returned to Chicago from the Bay area, where a business venture in which he was involved has collapsed. Elijah’s mother, Eve, is dying from cancer, but she certainly retains enough strength to carry on with quite a few activities – enabled by her constant puffing on a vape pen. Eve, it turns out, has been a very accomplished poetess during her life and, although she and her late husband Peter were financially quite comfortable, she scoffs at what she regards as Elijah’s obsession with material pursuits.
Eve doesn’t pay much attention to mundane day to day matters, including opening the mail, but when Elijah discovers a series of letters from something called the Hebrew Benevolent Society, his curiosity is piqued and he sets out do discover what those letters are all about.
The chapters alternate between modern and older Chicago, as we are introduced to the Kaplan brothers – Yitzhak and Solomon or, as they come to be known in America – Itz and Sol. The brothers have narrowly escaped a pogrom in Odesa when their parents were able to secure passage for them on a boat destined for Hamburg. Eventually they find themselves on a ship sailing to America, where they make the acquaintance of a character by the name of Hershey.
Hershey tells the boys that he can help them find a place to live in Chicago, where he introduces them to Avi who, it turns out, is a major figure in the Jewish underworld there.
Diamond provides a rich description of what life was like in Chicago back in the day when the city was divided among different ethnic groups who held sway over their own respective territories and when it was dangerous to cross over into the wrong part of town.
As the story develops, we learn that Elijah is actually the grandson of Itz Kaplan, but knows nothing about his grandfather’s very shady past – beyond having been told that he was a “businessman.” When he goes to the building housing the Hebrew Benevolent Society, however, he finds out that there is an entirely new aspect to his family’s past – which leads to his wanting to probe deeply into his family’s history.
Elijah’s own demons – including past drug addiction, a failed marriage, and a deep insecurity about his own ability to succeed in business, come to the fore, but his mother’s refusal to discuss her family’s history haunts him even further.
As the book moves in parallel tracks between two time periods we find out more about Itz Kaplan – and just how malevolent a character he was. And, at the same time as Elijah learns more about Itz, he begins to better understand why his relationship with his mother had gone off the rails.
The mystery of what happened to Itz’s brother, Sol, about whom Elijah had not even known had existed, figures into both stories – the one set in early 20th century Chicago, and the one set in modern Chicago, as Elijah tries to get his mother to open up about her family.
Jason Diamond provides wonderful descriptions of some of the minutiae of Jewish life back in the day when keeping kosher was an essential element of Jewish life. Sol, for instance, is a butcher (something that his father was as well back in Odesa) and maintains a rigid observance of all Jewish laws. He is fastidious about adhering to the quite complex details of butchering meat according to the laws of kashrut, for instance.
Itz, in contrast, who has been deeply emotionally scarred by what he saw happen during the pogrom in Odesa, is totally indifferent to Jewish laws. At the same time though, the reader might develop a grudging admiration for just how cleverly Itz is able to navigate the jungle of the Chicago underworld. That’s why I began this review by referring to other Jewish crime figures – all of whom existed. While we might be repelled by their behaviour, we are often fascinated by the cleverness they exhibited in maneuvering through the almost constant danger that manifested their lives. And – it was knowing that they were living on a knife’s edge that often seemed to motivate them as they stared danger in the face.
Ultimately, Diamond brings it all home. The mystery behind Eve’s family is solved and there is some closure to the relationship between Elijah and Eve.
A truly absorbing story – although just released in September, “Kaplan’s Plot” has already garnered many positive reviews. One review on Goodreads, I note however, says that the reviewer is sick of “mob stories.” I suppose it’s quite evident that I’m a big fan of mob stories that have a Jewish element and, if you are a fan of that genre then “Kaplan’s Plot” is sure to capture your fancy. I’m not sure I’d recommend it as a Chanukah gift for the grandchildren, however – unless one of your grandchildren has aspirations of becoming a mobster.
“Kaplan’s Plot”
by Jason Diamond
Flatiron Books
320 pages
Published September, 2025
