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A review by jaclynday
Jujitsu Rabbi and the Godless Blonde: A True Story by Rebecca Dana
2.0
This memoir of an occasionally hard-partying, fashion-obsessed Manhattan woman who relocates to the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn after a break-up to become the platonic roommate of a jujtisu-studying Hasidic Russian rabbi named Cosmo seems like a good premise, right? What’s not to like?
For some reason, I could not get through this book. I have a new policy about putting books aside if I’m not feeling them—something I didn’t do for a very, very long time. Despite that policy, I stuck this one out. I kept telling myself that I must be missing something. It was named an Amazon best book of the month in January, it’s been reviewed by several dozen major publications, I’ve seen it on several “must read” lists and yet…I really didn’t care for it.
As a story of self-discovery and a narrative about the intersection of the secular and the very religious in modern society, it is mildly successful. All the parts that make for a good book are there. Dana is a good, technical writer. She was living an interesting life. Where did this book go wrong? Why did every page feel interminable and why did I wake up each morning with no recollection of anything I read the night before? It’s an utterly forgettable book.
It’s clear that Dana was constructing a hybrid of many recently popular types of books. There is an Eat, Pray, Love-ish sense of narcissism, a Wild bit of introspection, and of course, a healthy dose of Sex and the City-ish stereotypes just to round everything out. It’s ironic that without Cosmo’s presence she’d have little to no material at all (let alone a catchy title), but he doesn’t appear often in the book. When he does, he feels one-dimensional. His jujitsu-studying is mentioned off-hand. He’s as flat as a pancake, but then again, so is Dana. I didn’t care much about any of them and I read the last page not caring that it was ending. It’s not a bad book. It’s not a great book. It’s not even a good book or an okay book or a so-so book. I’m totally indifferent and I think that’s probably worse than hating it.
For some reason, I could not get through this book. I have a new policy about putting books aside if I’m not feeling them—something I didn’t do for a very, very long time. Despite that policy, I stuck this one out. I kept telling myself that I must be missing something. It was named an Amazon best book of the month in January, it’s been reviewed by several dozen major publications, I’ve seen it on several “must read” lists and yet…I really didn’t care for it.
As a story of self-discovery and a narrative about the intersection of the secular and the very religious in modern society, it is mildly successful. All the parts that make for a good book are there. Dana is a good, technical writer. She was living an interesting life. Where did this book go wrong? Why did every page feel interminable and why did I wake up each morning with no recollection of anything I read the night before? It’s an utterly forgettable book.
It’s clear that Dana was constructing a hybrid of many recently popular types of books. There is an Eat, Pray, Love-ish sense of narcissism, a Wild bit of introspection, and of course, a healthy dose of Sex and the City-ish stereotypes just to round everything out. It’s ironic that without Cosmo’s presence she’d have little to no material at all (let alone a catchy title), but he doesn’t appear often in the book. When he does, he feels one-dimensional. His jujitsu-studying is mentioned off-hand. He’s as flat as a pancake, but then again, so is Dana. I didn’t care much about any of them and I read the last page not caring that it was ending. It’s not a bad book. It’s not a great book. It’s not even a good book or an okay book or a so-so book. I’m totally indifferent and I think that’s probably worse than hating it.