Tag: Jewish Historical Fiction

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Author’s Interview with Dr. Leah Grisham~ Jane Austen, Jewish Storytelling, and the Courage to Resist

Mirta Ines Trupp

When I first connected with Dr. Leah Grisham, it was through a shared affection for Jane Austen and a passion for Jewish storytelling. That led to a conversation on her blog about my latest book, Kindle the Light of Liberty: A Jewish Colonial Love Story of the American Revolution. It came as no surprise when that conversation quickly broadened into something much larger: the enduring question of what it means to resist unjust systems while remaining faithful to one’s conscience.

Dr. Grisham is a Cleveland, Ohio–based writer whose work explores literature, feminism, and Jewish life. Her first book, Heroic Disobedience: The Forced Marriage Plot in British Novels, 1747–1880 (Vernon Press, 2023), grew out of her doctoral dissertation and examines how the rise of capitalism in Britain depended upon the oppression of women—and how novelists such as Jane Austen and Charles Dickens used fiction to celebrate heroines who refused to surrender their moral agency. Dr. Grisham—Leah, as I now have the pleasure of calling her—is also a regular contributor to Kveller, the Jewish Book Council, Lilith Magazine, and Publishers Weekly, where she writes about literature, Jewish history, and contemporary Jewish life.

I have found that her work reinforces my belief that both traditions—Austen’s novels and Jewish storytelling—grapple with questions of societal expectations and confront difficult moral questions. I was struck by how many of the themes Leah explores—inequality, limited choices, conscience, and quiet acts of resistance—extend far beyond the English novel, echoing enduring concerns found throughout Jewish literature and history.

I am thrilled to have Dr. Leah Grisham on the blog today! Our conversation ranges from Jane Austen’s heroines and Victorian literature to Gothic fiction, antisemitism in the literary canon, and the ways modern readers understand courage and resistance. It concludes with Leah’s forthcoming work on Holocaust-era Poland, where the questions she first explored through fiction become matters of historical survival.

I hope you’ll enjoy our conversation as much as I did.

HOST: Leah, you and I connected as “Jewish Janeites,” a phrase I absolutely love. Has your Jewish background shaped the way you read Jane Austen, and if so, in what ways?

GUEST: Hi Mirta! Thanks so much for this conversation – it is always fun to connect with other Jewish writers – and Jewish Janeites!

I’ve loved Jane Austen for decades, and even spent a lot of time reading and writing about her novels in my PhD program. I’ve always been interested in the ways that authors portray minority groups (an oversimplified term, but you know what I mean), especially when these groups are portrayed in ways that challenge the stigmas that their cultures placed on them. So, while there may not be a wealth of Jewish characters in Austen’s ouvre, she had a lot to say about the treatment of women (especially poor women) and enslaved people that I think invites similar types of discussion.

HOST: And that’s why, I suppose, the themes in Heroic Disobedience reach beyond the English novel. They reminded me of Jewish writers—from Amy Levy to Sholem Aleichem—who also explored women resisting the constraints of family, economics, and society. Whether those parallels are direct or simply part of a larger literary conversation, they led me to wonder about another shared characteristic of both Jewish and Austen’s storytelling: the willingness to question and wrestle with difficult moral questions. Do you see a similar impulse in Austen’s novels, where heroines respectfully—but firmly—challenge the expectations placed upon them?

GUEST: 100% — and I think that is a big part of what has led to her enduring popularity for so many centuries. Obviously, her prose is so engaging, as is the world she creates, but what really sticks out to me are the characters who defy the expectations that have been hoisted upon them without their consent. The obvious example that most people will identify is Lizzy Bennet and Mr. Collins. He is such an obnoxious bore, and her refusal to marry him is such a highlight of that novel. However, I also love that in Pride and Prejudice, Austen doesn’t just leave it at that. Charlotte Lucas does agree to marry him, and her conversations with Lizzy really lay out the lack of options that women had in the early nineteenth century – especially those who were not wealthy. Austen’s novels constantly challenge readers to question their world while pointing out injustices.

HOST: And speaking of injustices, I know I’m not the only one who struggles with the casual antisemitism found in some Victorian fiction. Anthony Trollope, for example, critiques the marriage market in The Way We Live Now while also relying on harmful Jewish stereotypes. George Eliot’s Daniel Deronda offers both a critique of marriage and a remarkably sympathetic portrayal of Jewish identity. How do you think readers should navigate this tension—acknowledging an author’s literary merit while honestly confronting the prejudices embedded in the work?

GUEST: This is such a hard question, and one that I’ve wrestled with a lot. It makes me think of Dara Horn’s amazing book People Love Dead Jews (which, by the way, I think everyone should read)! In one of the chapters, she writes about listening to Shakespeare’s plays in the car with her son, and how she wanted to skip The Merchant of Venice because of the deep anti-Jewish stereotypes that are so important to the play. Her son challenges this, and encourages her to change her mind and listen to it. What follows is a really excellent reading of the play, and also some really insightful discussion about the questions you’ve posed here.

As someone who loves Dickens, Trollope, and Eliot, there is a big part of me that wants to say, “WAIT! We have to take these examples one at a time!” I want to argue against treating these characters and authors with broad strokes, and say that their treatment of Jewish characters is  more complicated than meets the eye. I don’t think this is wrong at all (and, in fact, can help us understand the ways that these cultures understood Jewishness/treated Jews), but – as Horn comes to conclude – sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade. Many canonical authors engaged in antisemitic portrayals of Jews, and it is still these authors who are studied in literature classes instead of actual Jewish counterparts. Calling it out is the first step, I guess.

The American/British literary canon has such a problem with reading historically marginalized groups through the lens of white authors. The last decade or so has seen an influx of work that challenges that, but – for a lot of reasons – it’s still very much a work in progress.

HOST: The Tanakh is filled with figures who disobey human authority because they are obeying a higher moral law: Shifrah and Puah, the midwives in Exodus, Esther standing before King Ahasuerus, Michal defying her father, King Saul, and many others. Their heroism lies not in rejecting obligation, but in discerning which obligation is paramount. Our conversation, Leah, keeps returning to the tension between obedience and resistance, doesn’t it? Austen’s heroines are often celebrated for defying convention, yet as a Jewish reader, I’m less interested in the act of resistance itself than in how they discern the moral course of action. What obligations do they owe their families? Their own consciences?

Your research suggests that novelists of the 18th and 19th centuries gave these same ethical struggles a more dramatic form, embodying coercion and systemic oppression in the figure of the Gothic monster. Authors used these creatures to illustrate the horrors of systemic dependence and forced marriages. Historical fiction readers continue to be fascinated by these tropes. Why do you think modern readers are still so captivated by these dark, high-stakes relationship dynamics?

GUEST: Oy vey – such a good question! I think that these evil, patriarchal gothic figures endure because, frankly, the systems of power that they represent are still in place, actively harming women today. They are at once so simple – easy to identify as evil – yet authors can also map very specific power dynamics onto them that speak to their current historical moment.

HOST: Throughout our conversation, I found myself thinking about how each generation redefines heroism. Modern adaptations like The Other Bennet Sister often ask whether fulfillment comes from personal freedom or from discovering one’s deeper moral purpose. At the same time, recent events have reminded many Jewish readers what it means to live as a minority culture negotiating questions of belonging, conscience, and resistance. Those ideas made me especially curious about your transition from literary heroines to documenting the lived experiences of Holocaust survivors.

Your upcoming book, The World Has Caught Fire: Life and Death in Holocaust-Era Poland, shifts focus from the systemic constraints of 19th-century British women to the existential horrors faced by Polish Jews under Nazi rule. In Heroic Disobedience, you explore characters whose resistance is quiet, internal, and guided by personal conscience. How did analyzing those literary forms of defiance shape how you approached the factual stories of Jewish resistance, agency, and survival during the Holocaust?

GUEST: Like I mentioned above, I spent many years of my graduate studies analyzing literature that up-ends dominant power structures. I find there to be something so rebellious and triumphant about these types of stories – I truly just love them. Throughout my dissertation work and writing Heroic Disobedience, I had the words of Mary Wollstonecraft ringing in my ears: “If the degeneracy of the higher orders of society be such, that no remedy less fraught with horrour [sic] can effect a radical cure; and if enjoying the fruits of usurpation, they domineer over the weak, and check by all the means in their power every humane effort, to draw man out of the state of degradation, into which the inequality of fortune has sunk him; the people are justified in having recourse to coercion, to repel coercion.” Here and elsewhere in her work, she is defending the right of oppressed people to use violence to overthrow corruption when they have been left no other choice. In this instance, she is talking about the French Revolution, but it’s a principle that is threaded throughout her work.

When it came to my new book, though, I had to unlearn a little bit of that kind of thinking. Or, at least, re-frame how I thought about resistance, rebellion, and armed violence. (And, again, People Love Dead Jews was integral to this process for me). For instance, there were a million ways big and small that Jews tried to resist the Nazis, but this resistance looked different than the type of resistance that Wollstonecraft was writing about: in many instances, sadly, the Nazi military was just too powerful. When researching my book, I spent countless hours with firsthand testimony, both recorded and written (and many of the written accounts, like journals, were written by Jews who did not survive). A few things that come up over and over again is the desperation of the doomed to be remembered, and their anger – desire for revenge – toward the Nazis and their collaborators. These feelings don’t always make it into the holocaust narratives that become popular, but, to me, they are crucial for historical accuracy. The average European Jew might not have participated in a violent uprising, like the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, but remembering them in a historically accurate manner is, I think, its own kind of resistance.

In The World Has Caught Fire, for instance, in addition to telling Dora’s survival story, I also trace the fates of her family members who didn’t survive. Ninety percent of Polish Jews perished in the Shoah, and telling their stories in addition to the glorious survival stories makes the Nazi’s mission – eradicating all of Europe’s Jews – impossible.

HOST: And maybe that’s the point. We must keep our stories alive by sharing Jewish experiences, accolades, hardships overcome, and most importantly, Jewish joy! Because, in my opinion, that is what we should be focusing on—not the tragedy, not the horrors that befell us. Like Austen wrote in Pride and Prejudice, “Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.” I don’t think she meant that we should forget about our sorrows or disregard our pain. I think she meant that we should focus on our purpose. We should remember the good things, our achievements and success. We should recall those memories that propel us forward. And so I thank you for joining me today and for sharing a bit of your work.

Look for Leah’s book on Amazon and check out her blog for articles, book reviews and more!

With love,

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Publishing Day: A Revolutionary Jewish Fiction I Couldn’t Find on the Shelf~

Mirta Ines Trupp

So I Wrote it Myself.

As America commemorates the 250th anniversary of its independence, I’m delighted to announce that Kindle the Light of Liberty is now available on Amazon.

Like many readers who love early American novels, I grew up surrounded by familiar stories. We know the Pilgrims. We know the Puritans and the Quakers. We know Washington, Franklin, Adams, and Jefferson. Historical fiction has given us countless perspectives on the birth of our nation. But one question kept nagging at me:

Where were the Jews?

Not because we weren’t here—but because we so rarely appear in the founding narrative.

Great Seal of the United States

Historians have long documented the lives of America’s colonial Jewish communities. Adam Jortner’s A Promised Land: Jewish Patriots, the American Revolution, and the Birth of Religious Freedom, Oscar Reiss’s The Jew in Colonial America, and Laurens Schwartz’s Jews and the American Revolution: Haym Salomon and Others all remind us that Jewish families were very much part of the American story. They built businesses, raised children, prayed in their houses of worship, argued over politics, supported different sides of the conflict, and helped shaped an emerging nation. Yet when I looked for novels that placed Jewish families at the center of Revolutionary America, I found surprisingly few.

That absence became the beginning of Kindle the Light of Liberty.

Set in Philadelphia, the novel follows Jewish colonists wrestling with questions of identity, faith, and loyalty as their city transforms into the cradle of Revolution. The story unfolds not only in the streets and meeting houses, but around kitchen tables, inside shops, through letters, and clandestine conversations. Rose Wachsman and her family live alongside neighbors whose lives are equally shaped by uncertainty—including Betsy Ross—because history wasn’t experienced in isolated communities. It was shared.

And just as Jane Austen used drawing rooms and assemblies to critique a changing world, her sharp social commentary inspired me to view the American Revolution through the intimate, high-stakes lens of one Jewish household.

Yes, I said Jane Austen.

People often are surprised by my literary influences; Austen doesn’t seem to be a logical choice when contemplating a novel set in this era. At first glance, I understand that it does seem an unlikely pairing! But Austen understood something timeless about human nature: history provides the backdrop, yet stories endure because of the people who live through it. That’s her genius and the secret to her longevity. She mastered the art of the domestic canvas—showing how massive societal shifts echo through family dinner tables and neighborhood gossip.

Elizabeth Bennet taught generations of readers that first impressions can be wonderfully, painfully wrong. Her wit, compassion, and willingness to reexamine her assumptions helped inspire my own heroine, Rose Wachsman. And if readers catch a glimpse of Fitzwilliam Darcy in Mr. Hirsch—reserved, honorable, occasionally misunderstood—I will happily plead guilty! They may also recognize faint echoes of Caroline Bingley, Mr. Wickham, or even Lady Catherine de Bourgh. After all, every story needs its social climbers, charmers, and people whose polished exteriors conceal far less admirable motives.

That’s why Austen still captivates us more than two centuries after her birth. She reminds us that beneath every great historical event are ordinary people navigating pride, prejudice, family expectations, misunderstandings, and deeply human connections.

That’s the novel I wanted to read. And that’s the novel I wrote.

A Revolutionary story where the Jewish experience isn’t a footnote.

A love story grounded in history.

And a reminder that America’s founding was always more diverse, more interconnected, and more human than we sometimes imagine.

Sneak Peek: Read an Excerpt from Chapter Four:


Rose tallied the chandlery’s goods with a restless precision. She found her thoughts snagging on the great gamble taking place blocks away. Had the divided loyalties finally snapped the cord of their resolve?

For weeks, men dawdled at her father’s counter, stripped of their coats and their patience in equal measure. Women lingered after completing their purchases, feigning an interest in a particular scent or the quality of soap, but their voices were lowered and their eyes watchful as they spoke of those grave matters which now threatened the balance of their world. Her father maintained a most rigorous display of neutrality, attending to every wick and ledger with a public diligence intended to keep his doors unbarred—not merely for the sake of the coin, but for the quiet, folded messages that were expected to pass through his hands in the shadows of the shop.

The burden of such secrets required a mask of perfect indifference, a performance that was put to an immediate test by a most unexpected visitor. One afternoon, while the bells of Christ Church tolled noon, Mr. Hirsch entered the candle shop and found Rose and Hannah Ellicott passing the time of day.

He stood tall in the doorway, his dark coat impeccably cut, appearing remarkably untouched by the stifling heat that had caused the rest of the city to wilt. His hair, tied simply at the nape, lent him an austerity that suited his grave expression. Rose noted a sharp, discerning flare of his features—a movement so fleeting she might have imagined it had her own pulse not quickened in response. She had hoped the clean fragrance of the honeycomb and citrus peel would mask the heavy, acrid scent of the rendering kettles, but the sudden, rigid set of his jaw suggested her efforts had been in vain.

Steadying her breathing and smoothing her apron, Rose masked any flicker of concern. She cared little if a stray smudge of soot marked her cheek. Boiling berries and rendering raw comb was a messy business; it followed that it was an odorous one. The result, however—the sweet-smelling soaps and tapers born of that labor—softened the edges of their world.

Given his apparent state, Nathan Hirsch was plainly not a man given to softened edges.

Rose felt rather than saw the shift in Hannah beside her as her friend’s missive slipped swiftly into the folds of her apron. She curtailed any emotion that would give her away, although she noticed Mr. Hirsch’s eyes registered the exchange. The gentleman had not yet approached the pair. In fact, he had not greeted Rose in his usual way. The simple nod she was afforded possessed nothing of his accustomed formality. And it gave her pause.

“The mail has come early today?” he asked.

His tone was mild. Too mild for her liking. What game was he playing? Rose felt the ridge of the wax seal from within her apron’s pocket. Wax was meant to protect. It could just as easily betray. She could not trust him. The letter was bound for Savannah. If it failed to reach its destination, a family might be ruined—or worse.

“Just the butcher’s bill,” she said lightly. “Mistress Ellicott was good enough to drop it off, seeing that she had to collect her weekly order of tapers. It is a small kindness we extend to one another.”

“Yes,” Hannah quickly added. “It helps when one must tend one’s shop. Sometimes Mrs. Riley or even little Tommy comes to our aid—such a good boy, that one. Always willing to help carry our little packages or knick-knacks.”

Rose resisted the urge to reproach her friend. Mr. Hirsch’s mouth, she noticed, curved ever so faintly—not in amusement, but in something like…recognition.

“Ah,” he said softly. “How clever you are.”

His gaze lingered on Rose’s face with cool intensity, as if attempting to reconcile the woman before him with some private conclusion.

“I would encourage you,” he continued, “to be selective in choosing couriers for your… knick-knacks. You would not wish anything to fall into the wrong hands.”

Rose met his eyes steadily, though her pulse hammered against her ribs. It was a moment that required a most calculated diversion; she must lead his thoughts away from the missive he had observed—away from the dangerous reality of their schemes and into the safer, if more painful, territory of society’s parlors.

“I thank you, sir, for your concern. Pray tell me—how may I be of service?” she asked with the civil indifference of a tradesman’s daughter.

“Was there something amiss with your mother’s order,” Rose continued with practiced calm, “or perhaps you seek a gift for a young lady? For Miss Franks, perchance? I believe my cousin has a particular partiality for our lavender soaps.”

He hesitated. It was a silence of a most distressing duration, and one which frightened her more than a direct accusation would have.

“Be at ease, Miss Wachsman,” he said at last. “I have been commissioned to acquire an additional dozen of the bleached tapers, if you please.”

Though she found the request odd—she had, after all, filled his mother’s order only two days prior—Rose turned to retrieve the items at once, willing her hands not to tremble beneath his keen observation. Mr. Hirsch had not shifted from his place; his dark eyes, however, took in every detail. Every shelf and display was scrutinized. Nothing, it would appear, was too small for the gentleman’s attention. Rose set the wrapped candles upon the counter between them—a small barricade of paper and twine.

“You keep busy,” he said. “I suppose you have felt the effects of the recent blockade.

“Indeed, sir. We have felt it exceedingly,” replied Rose. “We pray that the strain does not prove too hard to bear—for ourselves and for our families.”

Mr. Hirsch nodded his understanding as he placed his payment beside the parcel Rose had presented.

Sterling! He paid in sterling.

The silver coins caught the light with a cold, indisputable authority which the paper Continental notes could never hope to mimic. Rose found her gaze anchored to them a second longer than propriety allowed, her mind racing to reconcile the gleam of the King’s metal with the man who stood so unruffled before her.

Something unreadable flickered across his face. “Is there anything… amiss?” he asked, repeating her words.

She searched his expression for accusation—or mockery—but found neither. “No, not at all, sir. I thank you for your custom.”

He inclined his head. “Then I wish you a good day, Miss Wachsman; Mistress Ellicott.”

Rose watched him make his way toward the door. The question of where his loyalties truly lay rose to her lips with such force she very nearly put it to him directly.

“Mr. Hirsch.”

He paused, his hand upon the latch. “Yes, Miss Wachsman?”

“If you would authorize me to do so, sir,” she said instead, “I shall adjust your mother’s weekly order. I would not wish to incommode your schedule.”

“I have every faith in your judgment, madam,” he replied.

The bell above the door gave a soft, indifferent chime as he departed. Rose could not help but roll her eyes at the formality of his parting salutation. Madam, indeed!

Beside her, Hannah exhaled. “He knows.”

Rose turned the letter slowly between her fingers, the parchment feeling suddenly like lead. “He suspects,” she corrected, though the distinction brought her little comfort. She could not know if she had truly diverted his scrutiny or merely confirmed it; she was not sure which might prove worse.

Nathan Hirsch moved easily between worlds that distrusted one another. He frequented the Franks’ salons—seemingly paying court to the daughter of the house—yet he stood in prayer beside her own father each Sabbath.

He spoke carefully—and watched everything.

She could not know which allegiance governed him. Rose suspected that his neutrality was not a choice of conscience, but a masterwork of convenience.

Slipping the provocative letter into the hidden compartment beneath the counter, Rose felt her pulse steady as wood and wax and ordinary commerce enfolded the message until it could be revealed. He might keep his elegant decorums and his careful speech! She cared not for them. Here, amidst the scent of rendered fat and cooling wax, there was no room for duplicity—only the hard, honest work of survival.

I hope you’ll join Rose, Mr. Hirsch, and the families of Colonial Philadelphia as they discover that liberty is kindled not only by famous speeches and battlefield victories, but by the quiet courage of ordinary people whose stories deserve to be remembered. Click here to be directed to Amazon.

Happy Birthday, America! Kol hakavod—well done—for the first 250 years! May God’s presence continue to abide among us, and may our country remain a beacon of freedom and justice for the world.

With love,

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Jewish Historical Romance: A Jewish Colonial Love Story of the American Revolution

Mirta Ines Trupp

I can’t think of any author who wouldn’t appreciate the chance to talk about their new book—the research, the premise, the inspiration…well, you get my meaning. I had such an opportunity when I was asked to participate in an Author’s Q & A with Writergurlny. Click on the highlighted link to read the interview, or read a few snippets here:

Getting the full scope of history goes well beyond a generic textbook. For every well-known person, there are many others whose names and histories are lost to time. Mirta Ines Trupp’s new historical novel, Kindle the Light of Liberty, is set in Philadelphia during the American Revolution.

AB: What was the inspiration for the book?

MIT: First of all, thanks for the opportunity! I appreciate your interest in my latest book.

The inspiration for Kindle the Light of Liberty grew from three longtime passions. As a grateful naturalized citizen of this country, I wanted to contribute to the celebration of America’s 250th anniversary by exploring a lesser-known aspect of the nation’s founding—the experiences and contributions of Jewish Americans during the Revolutionary era. I am also passionate about writing Jewish protagonists in wholesome, accessible fiction. Too often, Jewish characters are absent from historical novels or appear only in stories centered on persecution. I wanted to create a compelling, “clean” read that allows Jewish characters to take their place at the heart of an engaging historical story—one filled with courage, hope, and the pursuit of liberty. Finally, as a devoted Jane Austen reader, I have long admired her ability to illuminate universal truths through the lives of ordinary people. Austen showed that questions of family, duty, love, and social belonging can be every bit as compelling as grand historical events. In Kindle the Light of Liberty, I sought to emulate that vision by placing personal relationships and moral choices against the backdrop of a transformative moment in history, allowing readers to experience the American Revolution through the hearts and minds of the people living it.

AB: Did the idea of Rose come from anyone specific?

MIT: Rose wasn’t based on any one specific person, but she was certainly influenced by a few different sources. As I mentioned, I am a longtime Austen fan. I would be hard-pressed to deny the influence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Pride and Prejudice fame. I’ve always admired Lizzy’s intelligence, wit, and willingness to speak her mind, even when doing so is not the easiest path. Those qualities definitely found their way into Rose’s character. At the same time, I often joke that all of my heroines are, in some sense, a blend of myself and the women who came before me. Rose reflects some of my own interests, values, and perspectives, but she is also inspired by the resilience, strength, and determination I imagine in my female ancestors.

As a historical novelist, I spend a great deal of time thinking about the lives of the women who preceded us—the challenges they faced, the choices they made, and the dreams they carried. In many ways, Rose became a way for me to honor both my own heritage and the remarkable women whose stories were never written down but whose lives helped shape the generations that followed.

AB: What made you choose the American Revolution as opposed to another time?

MIT: That’s a great question. As I mentioned earlier, one of the original inspirations for the novel was the upcoming commemoration of America’s 250th anniversary. I wanted to explore the colonial era, but through a lens that readers don’t often encounter. When most people think about Jewish involvement in the American Revolution, if they think about it at all, they tend to recall a handful of financiers and wealthy merchants. I was struck by how history reduced Jewish colonials to a single dimension. Ancient tropes and European stereotypes shouldn’t dictate how historical novel readers—Jewish or not—understand the past.

The Revolutionary period offered a fascinating opportunity to challenge those assumptions and expand the narrative. I wanted to portray Jewish characters as fully realized people—patriots, neighbors, friends, daughters, sons, and, when called upon, individuals capable of courage and sacrifice. The American Revolution was not only a struggle for independence; it was also a moment when many different groups were asking what it meant to belong in a new nation. That question felt as relevant to me as ever, and it made the Revolutionary era the perfect setting for Rose’s story.

AB: What kind of research did you do? Was it more internet-based, or did you rely on physical texts?

MIT: My research was actually conducted mostly online. One of the great advantages of not living in colonial times is that so much history is literally at our fingertips. Newspapers, letters, diaries, maps, genealogy records, academic articles, and digitized books that once required travel to specialized archives can now be accessed from home. The challenge is no longer finding information—it’s finding the time and patience to follow the trail of sources wherever they lead, and remembering to come up for air once you’ve disappeared down a research rabbit hole!

That said, online research doesn’t mean superficial research. Many of the sources I consulted were digital versions of primary documents and scholarly works. In fact, even my beloved Jane Austen was part of my online research process. Her novels are available free of charge through Project Gutenberg, which makes it easy to search passages and revisit particular scenes. Of course, I also keep a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice on my desk. Whether I’m reading a digitized eighteenth-century newspaper or a printed history book, the goal is always the same: reliable information. It needs to help me understand the period as accurately and vividly as possible so that readers can feel as though they have stepped back in time.

AB: The hardest part of historical fiction is melding the real people/events with the fictional ones. How do you go about it?

MIT: That’s probably the hardest—and most rewarding—part of writing historical fiction. The events themselves are often well documented, but people are much more complicated than the brief descriptions history leaves behind. When I encounter a historical figure, I try to look beyond the labels that have been attached to them. Take Rebecca Franks, for example.

Rebecca Franks

On the surface, she can be easy to categorize. She came from a prominent Jewish family, yet she was a Loyalist. She was a known flirt, witty, and resourceful (to put it kindly). She married an Englishman and ultimately lived in Britain as part of the aristocracy. Viewed from a certain angle, she might appear to have turned her back on both her countrymen and her heritage. But I found myself asking a different question: What made her the person she became? What hopes, fears, disappointments, and demands shaped her choices? The moment you start asking those questions, a historical figure stops being a name in a book and becomes a human being.

In many ways, that approach is influenced by a central idea in Judaism. At Passover, we are instructed to see ourselves as if we personally came out of Egypt. At Shavuot, we are encouraged to imagine ourselves standing at Sinai. Jewish tradition asks us to enter the story rather than merely observe it. As a novelist, I try to do something similar. I place myself in the position of my characters—both the real historical figures and the fictional ones—and ask what the world looked like through their eyes. What would I have believed? What would I have feared? What would I have hoped for? Once I can answer those questions, the boundary between history and fiction becomes much easier to navigate. The historical record provides the framework, but empathy helps fill in the spaces between the facts. That’s where the story comes alive.

AB: Philadelphia is as much of a character as the people. Did you deliberately choose the city, or was it an organic decision?

MIT: Absolutely deliberate! From the very beginning, I knew that if I was going to tell a story about Jewish life during the American Revolution, Philadelphia was the natural setting. I was drawn first to the city’s rich Jewish history. Philadelphia was home to one of the earliest and most important Jewish communities in colonial America, and many of the individuals I wanted to write about either lived there or passed through it. One figure who particularly intrigued me was Jonas Aaron, who arrived in Philadelphia in 1703 and is often considered the city’s first known Jewish resident. His presence is a reminder that Jewish history in Philadelphia stretches back long before the Revolution itself.

At the same time, Philadelphia was the political heart of the Revolution. The Continental Congress met there. Benjamin Franklin walked the streets. Betsy Ross lived and worked there. It was a city where world-changing events and ordinary daily life existed side by side. I was also fascinated by Philadelphia’s Quaker roots. William Penn’s vision created a colony that was remarkably welcoming for its time. While no eighteenth-century society was free from prejudice, Pennsylvania offered opportunities for religious minorities that were difficult to find elsewhere. Quakers, Jews, Anglicans, Presbyterians, and many others lived alongside one another, creating a vibrant and diverse community. That diversity made Philadelphia an ideal place to explore questions of identity, belonging, and citizenship during the founding of the nation.

AB: Rose and Nathan have a specific Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy energy to their relationship. Was this a deliberate choice, or did it emerge as a natural part of the writing process?

MIT: That’s a fair observation—Pride and Prejudice has been such a long-standing touchstone for me; Elizabeth and Darcy’s dynamic was always part of my creative landscape. At the same time, I didn’t want to simply recreate Austen in an American Revolutionary setting. Several of my other novels are “Austenesque” or straight-up Jane Austen fan fiction (JAFF), but I tend to introduce Jewish protagonists to the narrative, rather than portray Austen’s characters as Jews. There’s a reason for that approach.

What I’ve always found most powerful in Austen’s work is how clearly she shows the real stakes for women in her world: the very real fear of not marrying, of lacking financial security, of being labeled a spinster and therefore considered somehow “unfulfilled” or even nonessential in society. She also captures how profoundly a family’s social standing could shape the entire trajectory of a woman’s life, and how a single “wrong” choice could carry lifelong consequences. Those concerns absolutely echo through Rose and Nathan’s story, and in that sense, they do shadow Elizabeth and Darcy’s world. But as I wrote, those familiar Austen themes began to branch outward in new directions. Rose and Nathan are shaped by their Jewish identity, by a long history of displacement and persecution, and by the added weight of what it means to belong—or not belong—in a young nation trying to define itself. Their choices are not only about love, marriage, or reputation, but also about survival, continuity, and the question of whether a community that has endured centuries of exclusion can truly find a stable place in this new world. So I would say Austen gave me the emotional framework, but Rose and Nathan ultimately grew into something more layered—I hope! They are rooted in her world of social constraint and romantic tension, yet expand into broader historical and cultural realities that define their own lives.

Be sure to click on the link above if you’d like to read more, and don’t forget: both paperback and electronic versions of Kindle the Light of Liberty will be available on July 4, 2026! The pre-order link for the eBook is now live.

With love,

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In Honor of the 250th Anniversary of This Great Nation’s Independence: Let’s Discuss Jewish American Colonists

Mirta Ines Trupp

A candle to one is a candle to many ~ Talmud, Shabbos 23b

I am thrilled to share a first look at my new novel, Kindle the Light of Liberty, arriving on July 4, 2026! As we approach the 250th anniversary of this nation’s Independence, I wanted to write a tribute to the diverse, complex voices of the Revolutionary period—especially the Jewish colonists who fought for a home in the new Republic.

While my characters, Rose Wachsman and Nathan Hirsch, are definitely influenced by the sharp, social wit of Jane Austen, this story isn’t just about parlors and assemblies; it’s about the hidden sparks of rebellion carried by those whom history often overlooks.

Remarkable figures navigated quiet alliances and treacherous loyalties before and after 1776. People such as: Frances Sheftall, Mordecai Sheftall, Haym Solomon, Issac Franks, The Gratz Family, Abigail Minis, Gerhom Mendes Seixas, Jonas Phillips, Moses Michael Hayes, Solomon Bush, and many more! We often focus on the muskets and battles, but liberty was also won in the shadows by men and women of profound faith and courage.

I’ve called this an American Revolution Love Story. I suppose you can interpret that in different ways. There is a familiar Pride and Prejudice trope, certainly, but as Jane Austen wrote, “there are as many forms of love as there are moments in time.” I can think of a few: Love of Country. Love of Heritage. Love of Liberty. 

It is such an honor to celebrate these unsung patriots as we prepare for this massive milestone in our nation’s history! Please look for the book on Amazon this July!

They had no voice. They held no power. Yet they helped decide the fate of a nation.

In the bustling streets of Philadelphia, Rose Wachsman has no time for the rigid expectations of her community—and even less for the infuriatingly reserved Nathan Hirsch.

She is a woman of the hearth, sharp-witted and fiercely loyal to the cause of liberty; he is a man of business and tradition, seemingly more concerned with ledgers than the fires of revolution.

But as the war moves from a tradesman’s chandlery to the parlors of the elite, Rose and Nathan find themselves forced into a dangerous game of intelligence and alliance. In a world that would rather forget their names, they must overcome their own prejudices to discover that their greatest adversary might be their only hope.

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Jews and Christmas~ A look at Chess and its Role in the life of Regency Jews

Mirta Ines Trupp

Most everyone knows the modern quip that American Jews eat Chinese food on Christmas. Less remarked upon—but far older—is the tradition of playing chess. Its origins lie in the long and uneven Jewish experience of Christmas in Christian lands, yet its meaning has not been static. By the time of the Regency era in England, the custom no longer arose from fear, but from habit, memory, and choice.

For centuries across much of Eastern and Central Europe, Christmas Eve had been a perilous night for Jews. Authorities often warned—or compelled—Jewish residents to remain indoors during Christian holy days. Synagogues and schools were closed; travel after dark could invite harassment or violence. In some regions, Christmas celebrations coincided with pogroms and mob attacks. Rabbinic leaders, concerned for the safety of their students, prohibited leaving home to study Torah on that night. From these conditions emerged the practice known as 𝑵𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒍 𝑵𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒕.

Jews remained indoors not out of preference, but prudence. Because Torah study is traditionally associated with joy and spiritual elevation, it was avoided on 𝑵𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒍 𝑵𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒕 as a gesture of mourning—both for the immediate danger of the season and, over time, for the accumulated memory of lives lost during Christmas-time persecutions. In the absence of study and public activity, permitted forms of diversion filled the long winter hours. Chess, a game of logic, foresight, and disciplined thought, proved ideally suited. It required no public exposure, violated no religious prohibitions, and exercised the intellect. Cards and even modest gambling sometimes accompanied it, since Christmas was neither a Jewish festival nor the Sabbath.

Yet England offered a different setting. By the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Jews living in London—especially in areas such as Whitechapel, or in Manchester or Liverpool—did not face the same threats that had shaped 𝑵𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒍 𝑵𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒕 on the Continent. While full civic equality had not yet been achieved, English Jews enjoyed a level of legal protection, economic participation, and physical security rare in European Jewish history. Christmas Eve was not a night of shuttered fear, but one of quiet withdrawal from a holiday not their own. Staying in was less an act of survival than of cultural distinction.

In this context, chess persisted not as a response to danger, but as an inherited custom refined by circumstance. It became a familiar way to mark the evening: thoughtful, domestic, and communal. The game itself had long resonated within Jewish intellectual culture. Its emphasis on layered strategy and consequence mirrored modes of Talmudic reasoning. Medieval authorities recognized this affinity early on. Rashi, writing in eleventh-century France, discussed chess’s educational value and even encouraged Jewish women to play. In twelfth-century Spain, Abraham ibn Ezra famously praised the game in Hebrew verse:

𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓,

𝒀𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆,

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒊𝒔.

The Ashkenazi tradition of playing chess on Christmas Eve—now more than four centuries old—originated not in leisure, but in survival. What began as a response to fear and enforced isolation endured long after pogroms waned, preserved in Hasidic communities as a meaningful custom. A Hasidic story captures the deeper symbolism of the game:

𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑹𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒊 𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒇 𝒀𝒊𝒕𝒛𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒌 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝑵𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒍 𝑵𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑹𝒆𝒃 𝑬𝒍𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒐𝒗 𝒐𝒇 𝑹𝒂𝒅𝒋𝒐𝒗. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝑹𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒊 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝒆𝒓, 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅, 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚, “𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒆.” 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆. “𝑨 𝑱𝒆𝒘 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑱𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒔, 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒔, 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆. 𝒀𝒆𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆—𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌, 𝒂 𝑱𝒆𝒘 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈—𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔—𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.”

By the Regency period and certainly into the Victorian-era, chess had also become a site of Jewish cultural confidence. Jewish players were increasingly visible among Europe’s leading exponents of the game. Aaron (Albert) Alexandre, for example, emerged as a celebrated chess master and prolific writer. In 1838, he defeated Howard Staunton in a London match, cementing his reputation within England’s thriving chess world. He was followed by Wilhelm Steinitz who won the first official world championship in 1886 and Emanuel Lasker who domintated the title throughout the 19th century. Art, too, reflected this moment. In a well-known painting by Moritz Daniel Oppenheim, a chess game unfolds beneath the inscription:

ברוך אתה בבואך וברוך אתה בצאתך

If you look closely, you will see the Hebrew phrase which, translated, states: Blessed shalt thou be when thou comest in, and blessed shalt thou be when thou goest out.”

The scene belongs to the age of Enlightenment, when Jewish participation in modern society was increasingly visible. Oppenheim’s chess-playing figures evoke not conflict, but dialogue—recalling, perhaps, the famous encounter in which the Swiss clergyman Johann Kaspar Lavater attempted, unsuccessfully, to convert Moses Mendelssohn. Mendelssohn’s calm refusal, calling for reason and tolerance, seems to mirror the chessboard itself, doesn’t it? A true debate is a contest of ideas conducted without coercion. At least, one can hope!

Today, playing chess on Christmas functions less as a response to danger and more as a conscious act of continuity. It is no longer an act of watchfulness born of necessity, but a way of passing the hours in quiet thought, while bearing witness to a modern world in which Jewish and Christian lives meet not in fear or exclusion, but in shared seasons and mutual respect.

Wishing you the joys of the season, with love,

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Celebrating Jane Austen’s 250th birthday; A Jewish Austen Fan Fiction Author’s Review of the Year

Mirta Ines Trupp

It has been a grand celebration! All year long, Janeites from around the world have been celebrating Jane Austen’s 250th birthday. Naturally, there have been events in Chawton, Hampshire where the author lived and wrote her novels. The city of Bath in Somerset, held a Yuletide Birthday Ball. A special church service was held in Steventon in Hampshire where Jane was born. The Jane Austen Society of North America (JASNA), with a membership exceeding 6,000, organized balls, brunches, and teas across the land. Beyond this, thousands more around the globe—from Argentina to Israel, Australia to the Czech Republic, and places far and wide—gathered to commemorate the occasion. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒕𝒐-𝒅𝒐!

Professor Michael Kramp of Lehigh University in Pennsylvania invited me to participate in his ongoing public humanities research project entitled, “Jane Austen and the Future of the Humanities.” I’m still blushing…what an honor! We spoke of my passion of incorporating Jewish protagonists into Austen’s storylines and even explored the cultural and historical roots of Argentina’s vibrant Austen fandom. I will share that interview once the episode is ready to be released and aired on his podcast.

Soon after, I was contacted by Juana Libedinsky, journalist and novelist extraordinaire! She was conducting research for her (now released) book, Queremos tanto a Jane. The scope of that work speaks to the longevity of Austen’s popularity. One of my titles, The Meyersons of Meryton, had led Juana to me. She soon discovered that I had also written a JAFF with connections to colonial (or Regency) Argentina. We talked quite a bit about my immigrant experience and how I connected Austen with the Viceroyalty of Rio de la Plata in Celestial Persuasion.

Between the three of us, we covered Buenos Aires, New York, London, Las Vegas, Nevada and Bethlehem PA.!

Throughout this year, I have had the pleasure of attending Regency teas and was the guest speaker at various book clubs.

In May, I attended the annual Jewish Book Council’s Network Conference where I presented, The Jews of Donwell Abbey: An Emma Vagary. We were each given two minutes to “pitch” our book. No pressure, right? In all honesty, it was a strange combination of anxiety and pride and fun!

The culmination of the year was two-fold. I attended JAFFCon 2025, where I met with other authors and readers of Jane’s fandom. Lively discussions and informative presentations were coupled with games, raffles, dancing, and the partaking of refreshments!

Lastly, I attended the Vegas PBS Annual Tea, where we celebrated Jane’s birthday and enjoyed a wonderful presentation by world renown historian, author, and curator, Lucy Worsley. I heartfelt ‘thank you’ to Cindy Jensen for the invitation!

Austen’s fandom is alive and well! I look forward to new experiences, new stories, and connecting with my fellow Janeites throughout the world!

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Celebrating Chanukah~ A Look at the Festival of Lights During the Regency Era

Mirta Ines Trupp

What’s a nice, Jewish girl to do when the vast majority of the population is snuggling by a roaring fire with Hallmark movies and Dickens’ classics? Well, I’ll tell you. If that nice, Jewish girl happens to write Jane Austen Fan Fiction, she may share a little bit of history on the Jewish Festival of Lights. She may also share a snippet or two from her novels to illustrate the true meaning of the season.

I’ll stop writing in the third person now…

I realize that we’re still in the fall season here in the northern hemisphere, and there are other holidays to commemorate before we head into the darkest part of the year. However, I felt that this post was well-timed as the Jewish community has been experiencing “the darkest part of the year” since the horrific events of October 7, 2023. To date, we are still waiting for all of our hostages to be returned.

In just a few weeks’ time, we will begin preparing our latkes and sufgenyiot for our holiday meals. Dreidels and coins will decorate our tables too. The battles that were won, the significance of the dreidels and coins, the reasons why we eat fried foods—or, even dairy—are all well documented; you can read more about it here.

A Great Miracle Happened There!

Chanukah tells the tale of an impossible victory over the mighty Greek army in the 2nd century. This was a true, historical event—a terrestrial miracle that serves as reminder that Jerusalem and the Temple were lost and recovered due to the Maccabean revolt against tyranny and forced assimilation.

The second miracle of the holiday, however, is not so tangible. It is the story of how a small vial of sanctified oil was able to keep the Temple’s menorah lit for eight days and nights. The flames of the chanukkiah (the Chanukah menorah) speak to faith (emunah) and trust (bitachon). In celebrating this holiday, we are encouraged to emulate these characteristics, even when the world is enveloped in darkness—even when we are heartbroken and our spirits are brought low. As an author of Jane Austen Fan Fiction (J.A.F.F.), I wanted to highlight these themes, and show how I have attempted to underscore their importance in my J.A.F.F. or Jewish Austen Fan Fiction.

חג חנוכה שמח

The Hebrew greeting noted above is transliterated as Chag Chanukah Sameach, which means Happy Chanukah Holiday. No doubt, you have seen many different spellings of Chanukah, Hanukkah, even Januca—as it is written in Spanish. While many people call it a minor holiday—it’s not included in the Torah (the Five Books of Moses a.k.a. Pentateuch)—it has been commemorated by Jews for centuries… even in Jane Austen’s time.

On November 5, 1817, just prior to the holiday season in Regency England, tragedy struck. Princess Charlotte, the Prince Regent’s daughter, and heiress-presumptive to the throne, died after giving birth to a still-born son. The whole of the empire had been following this pregnancy; Charlotte was a favorite amongst the British people and her marriage to Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha had been a love match. The public were besotted by their fairy-tale union and by what the couple’s future foretold; however, Charlotte’s death at the age of twenty-one threw a stunned nation into deep mourning.

The outpour of grief for the young woman and her child was said to be unprecedented. Mourning protocols were highly respected during this period of time. Needless to say, when the deceased was a member of the royal family, and a favorite at that, the public were united in their sorrow.

“It really was as though every household throughout Great Britain had lost a favourite child.” ~ Henry Brougham

The Royal Exchange, the Law Courts, merchants, tradesmen, and schools closed down. There was a shortage of black cloth, as everyone wished to show their respect by wearing mourning armbands. Jane Austen and her family would have participated in these rituals. Naturally, the Jewish community aligned themselves with their compatriots.

Per the Gregorian calendar, November 19, 1817 correlated to the Hebrew date of the 10th of Kislev, 5578. Prior to the tragic news, Jewish congregations throughout the land would have been planning for the upcoming Festival of Lights; Chanukah falls on the 25th of Kislev. However, all such preparations came to a halt upon receiving the sorrowful news.

On November 19th, a memorial service was organized for “prayer and psalms for the day of grief” in the Great Synagogue, St. James’s Place. Congregants were allowed to “pour out their complaint before the Lord, on the day of burial of H.R.H. the Princess Charlotte.”

Hyman Hurwitz, the head master of a “fashionable” Jewish school at Highgate, composed Mourn the Bright Rose: A Hebrew Dirge and it was chanted to the tune of a well-known composition, typically recited on the Ninth of Av—a tragic and solemn occasion on the Hebrew calendar.

Rabbi Tobias Goodman, known amongst his congregation as Reb Tuvya, spoke on “the universally regretted death of the most illustrious Princess Charlotte of Wales and Saxe-Coburg.” Rabbi Goodman quoted Ecclesiastes in saying, “A good name is better than precious ointment, and the day of death than the day of one’s birth.  It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart.”

I don’t know what followed. Perhaps the rabbi repeated the time-honored phrase, “Od lo avda tikvatienu,” (our hope is not extinguished) capturing the essence of Chanukah. He might have referenced Joseph and his brothers in Egypt, by saying: “Praiseworthy is he who places his faith in God” and “Remember I was with you.” Whatever else was said that day, I can only imagine the congregation went home with words of consolation and hope.

Jane Austen said, “My characters shall have, after a little trouble, all that they desire.” That speaks to her genius, of course. As in any book, there needs to be an arc to the storyline. There needs to be growth. The heroine must face her fears and rise above the obstacles placed in her path.

In my novels, these concepts are interwoven in Becoming Malka, Destiny by Design: Leah’s Journey, Celestial Persuasion, and most recently in The Jews of Donwell Abbey: An Emma Vagary. In keeping with Miss Austen’s playbook, my characters—Molly, Leah, Abigail and even Harriet Smith—all have a little trouble, but it is ultimately their faith and trust that helps achieve their Happily-Ever-After ending.

Of all my books, I think The Meyersons of Meryton highlights the Chanukah message best. In this story, due to a variety of unforeseen circumstances, Mrs. Meyerson—the rabbi’s wife—and Mrs. Bennet find themselves much in one another’s company. Miss Catherine Bennet (Kitty, as we know her) has endeared herself to the rebbetzin and her young daughter, Rachel. In a rather poignant moment, Kitty makes an emotive declaration and both Mrs. Meyerson and Mrs. Bennet are moved—most profoundly.

The passage below is a snippet of the final chapter, where Mr. and Mrs. Bennet have an interesting exchange.

An Excerpt from The Meyersons of Meryton…

When the happy couples at length were seen off and the last of the party had departed Longbourn, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were found in the dining room quite alone, sharing the last bit of port between them.

“What shall we do now, Mrs. Bennet, with three daughters married?”

Surprised at being asked her opinion, Mrs. Bennet gave the question some thought before replying. “I suppose we have earned a respite, husband. Let us see what Life has in store for us.”

“No rest for the weary, my dear, for soon Mary will leave us and then Kitty. We shall have to make arrangements for the inevitable. Perhaps you shall live with one of the girls when I am gone and Mr. Collins inherits the place.”

“Mr. Bennet,” she giggled, “you should have more bitachon.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Perhaps it was the port, or perhaps it was pure exhaustion, but Mrs. Bennet found she had no scruple in sharing the entire tale of Chanukah with her most astonished husband. “Pray Mr. Bennet,” she finally concluded, “what was the true miracle of this holiday?”

“The logical answer,” he replied dryly, “would point to the miracle of such a small group of men overcoming a fierce and mighty army.”

“No, that is not it.” She giggled, as a hiccup escaped her lips.

“Well then,” he sighed, “the esoteric answer would point to the miracle of the oil lasting eight nights.”

“No, Mr. Bennet. Again, you are incorrect.”

“Pray tell me, wife, what then was the miracle, for I can see that you may burst with anticipation for the sharing of it!”

“The miracle, sir, was that they had bitachon. I do hope I am pronouncing correctly. At any rate, it means trust. They knew they only had one vial of sacred oil and had no means to create more. They lit the candle and left the rest up to the Almighty. And that is exactly what we should do in our current circumstance.”

“My dear, it is a lovely tale and I am certain that it has inspired many generations before us and will inspire many generations after we are long gone, but it does not change the fact that Mr. Collins is to inherit Longbourn…”

“Longbourn is entailed to Mr. Collins if we do not produce a son.”

“Yes, and well you know that we have produced five daughters, although you are as handsome as any of them, Mrs. Bennet. A stranger might believe I am the father of six!” he said with sincere admiration.

“You flatter me, Mr. Bennet. I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I wish to say…”

“You were but a child when we wed,” he waved her silent, “not much more than Lydia’s age, if I recall. But, my dear, that is neither here or there, for in all this time a son has not been produced and there’s nary a thing to do for it!”

“Mr. Bennet, there is something I have been meaning to tell you. That is, if you could spare a moment of your time—or does your library call you away?”

His wife’s anxious smile made him feel quite the blackguard. Had he not made a promise in Brighton? Did he not vow he would change his ways? Mr. Bennet decided it was high time he put the good rabbi’s advice into practice. Bowing low, he replied, “Madam, I am your humble servant.”

Happier words had never been spoken.

No matter which holiday you celebrate this December, whether the lights of your chanukkiah or the lights of your Christmas tree shine brightly against the dark, wintery nights, I hope your home and your hearts are blessed with peace.

With love,

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Two Austenites and the Connection Between our Asurim and our Anusim…

Mirta Ines Trupp

Months ago—after having the honor and the delight of being interviewed by author and journalist for the Argentine newspaper La Nación, Juana Libedinsky—I began planning today’s blog. Our discussion was not about Columbus Day or the Anusim (crypto or converso Jews) but rather about Jane Austen—naturally.

photo credit: Chris Beliera

However, Juana posed a question that stirred my curiosity to previously unexplored heights. I wanted to write about my discoveries here today. Needless to say, no one could have predicted that we’d be on the verge of seeing our beloved meshpucha home once more.

The hostages are said to be released within the next several hours.

Uploading a blog post today of all days seemed a bit…indifferent and self-serving. But, upon further thought and introspection, I found some interesting connections between today’s news headlines. At least, it was interesting to me—I hope you’ll let me know your thoughts in the comments section below.

The Hebrew word “anusim” (אֲנוּסִים), is derived from the root א-נ-ס (Aleph-Nun-Samekh). The etymology of the word meaning crypto or converso Jew, suggests the concept of being forced or coerced. The Hebrew word “asurim” (אסורים), refers to one who is physically restrained, held captive or hostage.

The Asurim we have long prayed for, and are anxiously awaiting, are a living reminder of “coerced vulnerability, of innocence bound.” If we reflect on the descendants of the Anusim (those forcibly converted in Spain, Portugal, etc.), it is hard not to see the correlation between the trauma of stolen individuality and the loss of the sacred, of innocence, and of peace of mind.

According to our tradition, we—as a community, as a family—bear the duty to remember, redeem, and restore. Freedom—whether of the body or soul—is an act of redemption. I learned this today while contemplating whether or not I should upload this post—a post about Christopher Columbus, about the Spanish Inquisition, about members of Klal Israel who were lost to us because they were coerced and held spiritually captive.

When I was a child, October 12th was celebrated as Columbus Day. Today—well, not so much. The day is now acknowledged as Día de la Raza (Day of the Race) or Día de la Hispanidad (Day of Hispanicity). Some communities prefer to acknowledge the day with celebrations of Indigenous Peoples’ Day or even Discoverers’ Day. In other words, we have gone from a Day of Observance, where President Franklin Delano Roosevelt invited “the people of the United States to observe Columbus Day, in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies that express the public sentiment befitting the anniversary of the discovery of America” to outright disregard, disdain, and disrespect.

Christopher Columbus—Cristoforo Colombo or Cristóbal Colón— was the son of Domingo Colón y Susana Fontanarossa. There has been an ongoing debate about the family being cryptic or converso Jews. There hasn’t been any concrete evidence to prove that point, but it is interesting to note that Columbus had close ties with Sephardic Jews, and conversos, and his famous voyage in August 1492 coincided with the Jewish community’s final expulsion from Spain.

Coincidence? You tell me. And also ponder this interesting tidbit: Columbus used Hebraic or Kabbalistic notations on his documents and diaries. Why?

There are thirteen surviving personal letters written by Columbus to his son Diego. With dates ranging from November 1504 to February 1505, twelve of these letters display the Hebrew letters ב״ה, which are understood to be shorthand for Baruch Hashem (Blessed be He or With God’s help). And when he was and his crew were stranded in Jamaica among the Taíno peoples, Columbus used his knowledge of Jewish astronomy in order to save the day.

Columbus and his crew were running short of supplies. Relations with the Taíno were…stressed. By consulting the Ephemerides of Abraham Zacuto, a renowned Jewish astronomer, Columbus noted that a lunar eclipse was due on February 29, 1504. In order to secure food and shelter, Columbus told the Taíno that his God was angry at their refusal to help, and that His wrath would be made known with the disappearance of the Moon. As this “magical” phenomenon began to unfold, the Taíno, naturally, were terrified. Columbus “promised” to intercede with his God on their behalf; and, when the Moon reappeared, the matter was quickly resolved to everyone’s satisfaction. Yes, Columbus manipulated an indigenous people to his own benefit. My point, however, is this event showed yet another connection to Judaic practice and knowledge.

Why would Columbus have known the works of a Spanish Jew?  

Juana Libedinsky was in the midst of writing her upcoming book, Queremos tanto a Jane (scheduled to be published in November 2025) when she called me to talk about my fascination with Jane Austen. To say that I am honored to have a small part in her latest project would be an understatement! We discussed my novel, Celestial Persuasion, that takes place in the Viceroyalty of Río de la Plata—otherwise known as Argentina—and how I incorporated a Jewish storyline into Jane Austen Fan Fiction. Juana touched upon one of my recurring pet peeves: Why don’t we ever read about Jews in historical fiction outside of the Inquisition or the Holocaust? Why are Jewish fictional characters always portrayed in a demeaning light, money lenders and rag peddlers? Naturally, the question about Jews in Argentina was posed.

Juana asked if I could substantiate my suggestion that Jewish people have been in that country since the famous voyage of 1492. At the moment, unfortunately, I could only rely on conjecture based on family anécdotas—anecdotes—and Argentine history. I promised Juana that I’d look further into the matter. When I wrote Celestial Persuasion, I completed hours and hours of research on the internet. But, now, I had another resource: ChatGPT. In truth, I am not a fan of AI—much like the Taíno, this “magic” terrifies me. That being said, I couldn’t resist trying to find out more on the subject of early Jewish immigration to the New World.

This is only the tip of the iceberg:

Conversos, Hidden-Jews, New Christians, or Those with Unknown Heritage:

Juan Cardoso Pardo

  • Born in Lisbon, possibly one of the first conversos to arrive in the Río de la Plata
  • On April 16, 1614, the (Roman Catholic) Buenos Aires City Council imprisoned the 22-year-old teacher. He was accused of not teaching the Apostles’ Creed and not praying with his students

Diego Núñez

  • Born in Córdoba del Tucumán, Diego was the son of a Portuguese converso. Like his father, Diego was a physician; unlike his father, Diego was suspected of being unfaithful to Catholicism.
  • While in prison, Diego circumcised himself, and urged others accused of Judaizing to maintain their faith at all costs
  • Subjected to torture and starvation for twelve years, he later was burned at the stake in 1639

Diego de León Pinelo

  • Born in Córdoba del Tucumán in 1608. His father, Diego López de Lisboa y León, and mother, Catalina de Esperanza Pinelo, were conversos who fled the Inquisition
  • The family was often under suspicion and harassed by colonial authorities; however Diego went on to be Argentina’s first literary figure

Ensign Juan Rodríguez Estela

  • A wealthy Portuguese rancher, he married a daughter from a family of conquistadors.
  • He was suspected of Judaizing and sent to prison, where he was tortured to confess, and later burned at the stake

Manuel de Lucena

  • Lived in Buenos Aires in the mid-to-late 1600s
  • Accused of practicing Judaism by the Inquisition of Lima
    • Secretly observing Shabbat, avoiding pork, and Catholic rites
  • The outcome of his trial is unclear in surviving records, but his arrest is well documented, one of the few documented instances of a converso persecuted in Buenos Aires

Domingo Faustino Sarmiento (President of Argentina from 1868 to 1874)

  • Born in San Juan, Argentina, 1811 to Paula Zoila Albarracín y Irrázabal, a descendant from the Acosta family.
    • Sarmiento’s maternal grandmother, María Jesús de Irrázabal y Acosta, was the daughter of Miguel de Acosta.
    • Miguel descended from Gaspar de Acosta, a Portuguese settler in colonial Chile/Argentina.
  • Through the Acosta line, Sarmiento also descends from the Antúnez and Gómez/González families. These families are documented in early colonial Chile and Cuyo (today western Argentina), where many Portuguese conversos settled during the 17th century
    • This is supported by Inquisition trial records in Lima and Cartagena and archival documents showing New Christian status in colonial Chile and Argentina.

Juan Manuel de Rosas aka Juan Manuel José Domingo Ortiz de Rosas y López de Osornio (Nicknamed “Restorer of the Laws”, was an Argentine politician and army officer who ruled Buenos Aires Province and briefly the Argentine Confederation)

  • Born in Buenos Aires 1793 to Agustina López de Osornio, who was connected to the Machado family
    • María Antonia de la Trinidad de Azcuénaga y Basavilbaso (the daughter of María Rosa de Basavilbaso y Urtubia, daughter of Domingo de Basavilbaso) and/or María López de Osornio are the descendants of Ana de Machado, a 17th-century member of the Portuguese Machado family in Buenos Aires

Carlos María de Alvear (A soldier and statesman, Supreme Director of the United Provinces of the Río de la Plata in 1815)

  • Born in Santo Ángel, Misiones Orientales (now Brazil) in 1789 to María Balbina de Sáenz de la Quintanilla y de la Cámara. She was from a noble Spanish family, but her ancestry includes names such as Fonseca and Cámara. Both were associated with Portuguese conversos
  • His father, Diego de Alvear y Ponce de León was born in Montilla, Córdoba, Spain, of Andalusian and Portuguese origin.
    • The Portuguese surname “Alvear” is documented among New Christian families in Porto, Lisbon, and Seville. The Alvear family in Iberia included notaries, merchants, and soldiers, professions frequently held by New Christians.
    • Members in the Alvear lineage appear in Portuguese and Spanish Inquisition records accused of Judaizing.

José Hernández (One of Argentina’s most important literary and political figures of the 19th century, best known for his epic poem, Martín Fierro)

  • Born in San Martín, Buenos Aires in 1834 to Isabel Pueyrredón whose ancestry includes: the Sosa, Rojas, and Alcaraz families.
    • The surname Sosa is of Portuguese origin, and appears frequently in Inquisition records in Brazil and Peru. Several New Christian families named Sosa fled from Portugal to Brazil and the Río de la Plata in the 16th–17th centuries.
    • The Sosa family of Corrientes and Santa Fe, were active in trade and law in the 17th century, had crypto-Jewish connections

Mariquita Sanchez de Thompson aka María Josefa Petrona de Todos los Santos Sánchez de Velasco y Trillo ( A founding mother and patriot)

  • Born in 1786 to Petrona Trillo y Cárdenas, a descendant from the Trillo, Cárdenas, and del Valle families.
    • The Trillo surname appears in Portuguese Jewish naming patterns in Seville and Lisbon in the 16th century
      • There are Inquisition records from Peru and Brazil in which individuals named Trillo were tried for Judaizing
      • In Buenos Aires, Trillo family members were involved in trade, a common profession of New Christians
  • Father, Don Tomás Antonio Sánchez de Velasco y Pérez, belonged to the Sánchez de Velasco family—an established Castilian-Creole family in Buenos Aires
    • The del Valle surname is found in Inquisition records across the Iberian world.
      • Juan del Valle and other family members were tried in Cartagena and Lima for Judaizing
      • Families named del Valle were sometimes of Sephardic origin, and migrated to the Americas under false Christian identities
  • The Cárdenas, Trillo, and possibly Velasco lines include individuals involved in colonial trade, which was disproportionately managed by (Portuguese) New Christians

The last Jews left Spain on the 9th of Av or August 2, 1492. A member of a wealthy converso family, Luis de Santángel, loaned most of the money for Columbus’ voyage. Many speculate that it was Santángel’s “desire to help his persecuted brothers.” On his second voyage to the New World, Columbus set sail with 17 ships and approximately 1200 men. The expedition was paid entirely by the gold, and other valuables, confiscated by Spain from the expelled Jews. This also coincides with log entry written by Columbus which stated: “The object was to secure the property of the secret Jews for the state treasury … [and to] confiscate the property of those who openly professed to be Jews.”

Whatever else can be said about Christopher Columbus, I can’t help but think of the multitude of people who were saved from the Auto-da-Fé (a ritualized, public penance carried out by “relaxing’ or burning the Judaizer as a form of spiritual release or purification) because of his voyages. What does this have to do with Jane Austen Fan Fiction? Nothing—and everything. Everything because fan fiction is a medium that allows an author to incorporate his or her own culture, religion, and traditions into Austen’s beloved classics. Fan fiction allowed me to imagine a Jewish young woman journeying from England to the fledgling nation of Argentina—a country that would abolish the Inquisition laws from its constitution on March 23, 1813.

The Anusim, whether tradesmen, laborers, teachers, soldiers, entrepreneurs or statesmen, were born into Jewish families. Somewhere along the line, they were forced to convert, to flee and abandon their homes, their livelihoods, their faith and culture. Their descendants, for the most part, were lost to the people Israel. Kabbalistic and Hasidic sages viewed these conversions as a metaphor for exile. Their physical beings were coerced by outside forces, and they were trapped in a cultural assimilation. Their souls, too, were held captive by circumstance, and these souls yearned to return, for Teshuva.

According to an article on Chabad.org, it doesn’t matter if a Jew converts or if a Jew lives a secular lifestyle or if, God forbid, a Jew is held captive and is unable to fulfill the rites and responsibilities of his or her faith. That Jew remains “intimately bonded with the God of Abraham.” God “awaits the moment this precious soul will return.” Just as we await, with bated breath, for the release of the hostages; the Asurim, who have too long been bound in exile. May their physical, emotional, and spiritual souls find healing and Ge’ullah—redemption.

Today, when we witness the hostages restored to their families, we will recite:

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, matir asurim

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, מַתִּיר אֲסוּרִים

“Blessed are You, Adonai, Ruler of the Universe, Who frees the captives.”

Amen.

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Author’s Interview with Lauren Tallman

Mirta Ines Trupp

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to a “Run 4 Their Lives” Hostage Awareness Walk. For those of you in this audience who are today-years-old, my opening statement alludes to an old vaudeville line—and a 1962 musical that is filled with humorous situations and mistaken identities. But I digress…

I wish with all my heart that I could have met today’s guest author under different circumstances; but, until our meshpucha (our family) are released from captivity, we will walk in our neighborhoods—across the country and around the world—to raise awareness that the hostages Are. Still. There.

On one such walk, after having walked together week after week, Lauren and I discovered that we both write historical fiction. Up until that moment, we saw each other as concerned Jews; two middle-aged women outraged at the lack of basic, human rights for innocent people held hostage for two years as of today.

Lauren Tallman, author

Needless to say, we were very excited to learn we had other—more pleasant—things in common. And before any of you “couch referees” or “armchair critics” judge my choice of adjective or lack of vocabulary, excited is absolutely apropos! As you will soon learn, Lauren is much accustomed, shall we say, to that particular sentiment.

According to her website, Lauren Tallman “is a fearless voice in modern erotica and candid conversation.” Yes, you read that correctly. Lauren, also known as Lady Tallman or Lady of Glencoe, founded the Erotic Writers Group of Las Vegas in 2014. She has been a member—and is the current vice president—of the Henderson Writers Group (HWG) since 2009, where her stories have been accepted into six HWG anthologies.

In addition, my lady, Lauren is a columnist for the Vegas Voice where she writes about Health & Wellness and informs us that, “Seniors Still Do It.”

After doing a little research of Lauren’s online presence, I learned my new friend was born in Lithuania. Her arrival to Nevada was quite the trajectory, as stated here: “Her journey spans six cities across four countries, with thirty unforgettable years spent in Israel before making Las Vegas her home in 2006. Her diverse life experiences fuel her writing — bold, raw, and unapologetically honest.”

Lauren’s books, How To Have An Affair And Not Get Caught, Harem of the Dragon, Taste the Kiss Feel the Fire, Anthology X, and Come Again? have received world-wide recognition.

Talk about spicy!

“How did you come to write these provocative narratives,” I asked.

Lauren didn’t miss a beat.

“Because I’m good at it,” she replied.

I wasn’t altogether sure if she meant if she was good at writing or, you know… Very well, I’ll say it: sex.

Naturally, I shared my—um—passion for Jane Austen Fan Fiction with Lauren. And, after giving it a bit of thought, she and I are not so far apart in our writing style. We both are fulfillers of fantasy, we both are devisers of dreams. Certainly Austen cannot be considered a purveyor of erotica, but her writings did contain sexual undertones and innuendo. Think of Northanger Abbey and Mansfield Park.

In this JSTOR post by Beth Lau, Catherine Moreland is shown to “be an astute sexual and social strategizer who ends up marrying the most eligible man in the novel.” And in this essay, author Avrom Fleishman urges caution in “simply assuming that Jane Austen came under Evangelical influence…in order to explain a presumed moralizing tone in the novel.”

“Sexuality is not a topic which springs immediately to mind on considering Jane Austen’s novel, “Mansfield Park,” but, in fact, much of the energy of the novel derives from the powerful machinations of sexual politics and much of the novel’s interest comes from the usually suppressed—though all the more fervid for that—love of Fanny for Edmund.” ~

Giulia Giuffre, “Sex, Self and Society in Mansfield Park”

No, Austen’s contemporaries were certainly not puritanical. Courtesans were prominent in London society. Sexual relationships were often discussed openly, and literature and art were often a celebration of sensuality. If we had a ha’penny every time we read about a couple “anticipating their vows”, we Regency fans would be set for life!

In fact, when comparing the Georgians, Victorians, and Edwardian eras, the Georgians (the era, not the country!) “were considered less prudish about sexual relations compared to the Victorians, who were often seen as more repressive due to strict moral codes. The Edwardians, while still influenced by Victorian values, began to show more openness towards sexuality and social norms.”

I have whet your appetite, I do believe, and expect that you are hungry for more. Do try to curb your frustration. Restrain your lust for the upcoming salacious dialogue because, without further ado, I’ll get on with the interview!

Host: You are very welcome, Lauren. Please tell us about your­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ work.

Guest: As a writer of erotica, I say my genre is “historical fiction with sensual undertones.” It very well tells what I write: erotica. Several books were published after Harem of The Dragon.  After many requests, the sequel is now in the works.

Host: That’s fascinating — “historical fiction with sensual undertones” really captures how you weave emotion and history together. Humanity’s struggles are naturally a combination of frenzied passions, often seen through a cultural or spiritual lens. With that in mind, what are your thoughts on Jewish Historical Fiction? Why is it an important, stand-alone, genre?

Guest: It’s imperative! Fiction always has a seed of truth, based on things we heard at family dinners or read in history class. Those seeds make the story line. Making the stories fiction allows us to read fascinating tales while unwittingly absorbing facts about our people. It’s difficult to read our history. It’s clever to blend it into fiction while still getting truths and facts across.

Host: That’s a wonderful point — by weaving truth into fiction, readers can connect emotionally to history they might otherwise find too painful or heavy to face directly. It’s such an effective way to preserve culture and pass on knowledge through story. Here in the United States, our exposure to Jewish narratives often centers on two main threads — the Holocaust and Fiddler on the Roof-type themes of shtetl life. But as you suggest, there’s so much more to explore, from different eras, places, and diverse perspectives. Could you share some titles of your favorite non-Holocaust Jewish fiction — stories that reveal other sides of Jewish experience and identity?

Guest: My Name Is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok – a Hasidic boy with artistic inclinations which almost destroys his family and life. A little heavy but very well done.

I felt I was hearing Flavius Josephus when I read The Wars of The Jews.  I was there with him. I could see the battles and survival.

Exodus by Leon Uris – I literally took the book to the library (that’s how long ago I read it) and read what I could about the creation of Israel. I looked up the facts such as the name of the real Exodus captain and found where Moshe Dayan was jailed (as used in the book). Ben Gurion was quoted: “…as a piece of propaganda, it’s the greatest thing ever written about Israel.”

The Source by James Michener is a must— I read it while living in Israel. When I realized it was about Megiddo, I drove out there. I searched every inch of the tell. The story was etched in my brain. I studied the tunnel and saw how the rock had been chipped by hand to make way to the source/water, the bringer of life. Trust me, I just stood there and understood the need to live, to survive, for themselves and thousands of years later, for me.

Host: Those are such powerful selections, Lauren, each one not only captures a pivotal moment in Jewish history but also brings it to life through deeply personal storytelling. I love how you described standing at Megiddo after reading The Source — that image of tracing history with your own footsteps is incredibly moving. I appreciate authors who weave accurate history throughout the storyline. While completing research for your novels, did anything particularly affect or move you? Were there any discoveries or moments that truly took you by surprise?

Guest: In Harem, I had 125 pages of research, indicating what they ate, where they slept, their customs, and so much about the difference between Emperor and commoner. No matter what you write, you can’t help but be moved when reading history. How could you know that gold/yellow could only be worn by the Emperor during the Ming Dynasty, and anyone daring to wear it was executed. How could you know that the Star of David worn by Holocaust victims was yellow indicating the color of urine. Without a word, the star was made to be a symbol of the lowest of low. What comes as a surprise? The agility, the rage, and the ability of people to rise up, to become greater than before, yet not as great as they would be in the future.

Host: Lauren, that’s a powerful observation. The resilience of people to rise, transform, and keep striving for something greater is truly timeless. It’s that same human spirit that often defines the heart of historical fiction, even when the setting or circumstances change. As you know, Regency Romance is a favorite genre of mine; however, Jane Austen did not consider herself to be a romance author and she was not labeled as a “Regency” novelist during her time. That being said, Austen’s narratives did impart a sense of physical attraction, of longing. We “Janeites” are familiar with the social taboos of sexual conduct and the corresponding gossip that usually follows. Talk to us about the taboos of today—in a society where apparently “everything goes.”

Guest: It doesn’t go. America is straight-laced compared to most countries. As a writer of erotica, I see people show their disdain for written sensuality. They feel ashamed or, worse, embarrassed about desire. There are affairs – I know, I wrote the book, How to Have an Affair and Not Get Caught. In public, people walked past me at a book signing. But they bought the book online or through my website (laurentallman.com). They don’t talk the talk, but they certainly walk the walk. In short, ‘everything goes’ may happen behind closed doors but speaking to the average Joe about passion doesn’t fly. Taboo means ‘something that is not acceptable’. Passion, want, need, and pure desire have been labeled taboo. How sad.

Host: That’s an insightful statement, because those “unacceptable” feelings have driven some of the greatest stories ever told. Authors lend authenticity to their narratives by not shying away from natural emotions or diverse, complicated scenarios. Which leads me to my next question regarding walking the same ground, so to speak, as your characters. Have you visited any of the locations you’ve written about?

Guest: I try to. I write a monthly column in The Vegas Voice, regarding senior relationships. When I wrote about the hot springs in Cali, I spent the night there. Making love under the stars? I stayed out under the stars, to see if it was doable. (It is doable.) Actually, being at a location gives me far more information than just calling on the phone or looking up a place on the net. And people love to talk and share information that you would never have known otherwise.

Host: Lauren, you are an adventurer! How long have you been writing? When did you first consider yourself an author?

Guest: Oh, forever! Even as a child I could tell a good story. Not that I knew anything about the art but the stories weaved in the senses: rain dripping from tree leaves and hurling to the ground, ivory clouds, the sound of skates on ice. My first book, The Erotic Tales of Renni (not published, long story) was written 35 years ago. When I first published the affair book, I realized I was a true author. Since then I’ve written short stories, my forte, as well as books. At first it was difficult to say “I am an author.”  Someone told me, “You worked hard on your book. You researched, edited, and marketed it. You deserve the title author.”  They were right.

Host: I wholeheartedly agree! Of late, the term “Historical Romance” seems to equate with a narrative containing sexual language or scenes ranging from “clean reads” to soft porn to something rated XXX. While some readers prefer “drawing room romance” to “bedroom romance” —where adult activities are carried out behind closed doors—there is a massive audience that wants the spice level turned up all the way. In your experience; and, speaking in general terms, how does an American audience differ to that of an Israeli audience?

Guest: Day and night. In Israel I can speak about Harem, which has ‘edgy’ erotica, or any of my many short stories, without missing a beat. They commend me for writing an interesting, and truly sensual, story. Here, I had to change the wording on Harem’s cover, from erotic to sensual. Israelis listened, sipped their coffee, and asked questions!

Americans would first say, “I don’t read porn.” And I’d answer, “Neither do I.” They’d stare are me. I often explain, “Erotica is a whisper. It is sensual. It is tender. It can be edgy because sensuality comes in different levels.”

By the way, my books don’t have one “dirty” word in them. A nice Jewish girl from Brooklyn doesn’t say those things. So I turned to erotica which shows you sensuality rather than tells you. I wouldn’t write, “He grabbed her (fill in the blank).”  Rather, I write, “Her skin felt like silk under his fingers.”

Host: I love that you make it your own and have no need to apologize or explain your style.

“I could not sit seriously down to write a serious Romance under any other motive than to save my life, and if it were indispensable for me to keep it up and never relax into laughing at myself or other people, I am sure I should be hung before I had finished the first chapter. No – I must keep my own style and go on in my own way; and though I may never succeed again in that, I am convinced that I should totally fail in any other.” ~ Jane Austen

Host: Lauren, thank you for participating on another fascinating, Author’s Interview! Before we end our chat, is there anything else you’d like to add?

Guest: Yes, thank you. My books can be found on my site laurentallman.com. My podcasts and columns are on The Vegas Voice site (thevegasvoice.net).  Id like to share the last paragraph in Harem:

I jumped out and walked alone until I reached the edge of the mighty wall.  

I breathed in the brisk air. My nostrils flared and my chest burned as a fire waited to burst forth.

The waves crashed but dared not splash onto me.

The wind swirled but did not have the courage to dry my eyes.

I raised my arms, clenched my fist, and shouted out to the ebb and flow of the water.

“I am Long, Chief Eunuch of the Emperor’s Harem. Hear me waters. Hear me wind. Scream my name to the sky and say, I am the dragon.”

Thanks, again, Lauren! And thank you, reading audience! I hope you’ve enjoyed the post and I look forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments below.

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The JBC’s Network Conference~ On a Day Such as This

Mirta Ines Trupp

Even in the midst of all this anguish, we still wake up and thank God for returning our souls to our bodies—such is His faith in us. We fulfill our commitments, never setting aside the pain, never forgetting the fear—knowing we are not alone. Klal Israel is our meshpucha.

A new day will rise, life will go on. Everyone cries, don’t cry alone…” Written Keren Peles, interpreted by Yuval Raphael

For several months, I have been preparing for the 27th annual Jewish Book Council Network Conference. This is a whirl-wind, high-tech event where traditional and independent authors are allowed exactly two-minutes to pitch their books to orga­ni­za­tions across North America, including JCCs, syn­a­gogues, Hil­lel groups, Jewish Federations, and cul­tur­al cen­ters.

My initial draft was revised and rewritten numerous times even before I had my coaching session with a program advisor. There were Zoom meetings for technical support, ensuring visual and audio were functioning at optimum performance levels—not to mention the many questions and concerns presenters had regarding virtual backgrounds, appropriate attire, and what the program director meant by ‘Up Next’ and ‘Up Now.’

After my practice session and the group orientation, I felt energized and ready to go. My office was reorganized and spruced up. I changed my outfit three times. I adjusted the camera at least as many times. I went to sleep…well, I went to bed, but couldn’t rest. I kept repeating my lines and thinking of different ways I might change my cadence, projection, or tone.

Before tossing the bedsheets aside the next morning, I murmured, “Modah ani lefanecha…” Thank you, God. I had been waiting for a day such as this! I was excited. I was motivated. I was going to nail my presentation. It was only a few minutes later when I heard the devastating news. A young couple had been murdered in the nation’s capital. Senselessly. Without cause. Without any consequence to the situation in the Middle East.

After October 7th, after watching endless protests, after hearing antisemitic vitriol being spewed from the mouths of useful idiots, I thought my heart was beyond breaking.

I was wrong.

At some point, I went online and checked my emails. I wondered if the conference would be postponed—cancelled, even—but then remembered that putting off a simcha or joyful event was not in keeping with Jewish tradition. Was that only for weddings? No, it wasn’t; but, more to the point, we have been here before. We don’t retreat. We don’t back down.

The conference was not cancelled.

The Jewish task is not to fear the real world but to enter and transform it.” Rabbi Lord Sacks

At the appointed time, the authors joined the webinar. We supported each other in our grief and shock, and we went on. I heard the others present their stories; some poignant, some humorous. Each, at its core, a testament to our resilience as a people.

At the end, we all held up our books, those little pieces of ourselves that we are bravely sending out into the world, and took a group picture. I was so nervous! I guess the point is that I shouldn’t have been. After all, I was speaking to my meshpucha…

The following is what I managed to say within the allotted time:

Hi! I love everything about Jane Austen and Fan Fiction. By incorporating Jewish storylines into Austen’s work, I hope to showcase that Jews were an integral part of every-day, Regency society. By 1815, the year that “Emma” was first published, Jewish communities had re-established themselves all throughout England—many in the upper echelons of society. I’m thinking of the Rothschilds, Goldsmids, and Montefiores. “The Jews of Donwell Abbey: An Emma Vagary” allows readers to escape to the charm of the Regency era, but there is so much more.

Miss Harriet Smith, a secondary character in Austen’s original story, faces judgement and scorn due to her humble—and questionable—circumstances. Characters struggle with romantic angst and foolish misunderstandings, pettiness and bigotry too; however, in keeping with Austen’s morality and Jewish teachings, there also is spiritual growth. Yes, Harriet finds herself attending fine dinners, assemblies, and soirees, but it’s her inner battles that provide an element of introspection and self-determination. What is more Jewish than that?

Jane Austen wrote: “Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.” These words encourage us to recall our triumphs—even over small, every-day challenges. Given the times, our community craves such assurance and inspiration.

The Jews of Donwell Abbey delivers a touch a whimsy, but it also inspires pride and cultural cohesion. It nurtures that quintessential Jewish quality called: hope. Let’s indulge in an afternoon of tea and conversation! We’ll talk about Jews in the Regency era and their often— overlooked—contributions to society.

Having had time to think back on the day’s events, I might have changed a word or two. With all due respect to Austen and her well-meaning advice, I’d update the statement to say:

Think only of the past, as it remembrance gives you strength and propels you forward.

We will overcome this darkness, we will dance again, and laugh again, and write heartwarming love stories. Baruch dayan ha’emet and may Yaron and Sarah’s memory be for a blessing.