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cursedepub 's review for:
The Sanhedrin Chronicles
by J.S. Gold
adventurous
dark
emotional
informative
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This is an eARC review: I received an advance digital copy of the book in exchange for posting a review.
TLDR: Action-packed and engrossing, this novel is a solid, if typical, fantasy adventure with a powerful emotional core and strong exploration of the theme of reclaiming one’s identity and heritage. As a debut novel, it is definitely not perfect—it can feel cheesy and on-the-nose at times—but is genuinely an exciting, fun reading experience. If you are looking for a contemporary “hero’s journey” or “Chosen One” story that also grapples with deeper emotional and cultural themes, you may like this one.
Recommended for: Readers looking for a fast-paced and familiar action-adventure urban fantasy story; readers who appreciate highly cultural settings and themes; immigrants and third-culture kids, especially from marginalized identities and/or former colonized nations
And now onto a more detailed review…
The Sanhedrin Chronicles is in many ways your typical urban fantasy “Chosen One” story: a newly-orphaned young adult steps into a hitherto-unknown magical world, must keep their new powers secret, discovers they have a unique grand destiny, and fights battles against forces of darkness and evil, growing in their abilities and gaining powerful allies (and special artifacts) along the way.
What The Sanhedrin Chronicles brings to the loaded table of “Chosen One” adventures is a plot that marries this admittedly common outline with a truly compelling emotional core: the reclamation of one’s heritage and identity, on one’s own terms—not just blindly following or thoughtlessly rebelling against tradition, but deciding how one reckons with and lives out one’s culture, even when it has been a source of pain and betrayal.
Arthur Rose (born Aaron Rose) hates his Jewishness, in no small part because of his Hasidic Jewish father who neglected and abandoned him. This father also just happens to be a member of “the Sanhedrin,” a secret order of Jewish magicians and sages who protect the world from demons and uphold balance and justice with ancient Hebrew magic (you know this drill). We meet Arthur as a 21-year-old college student who tries as much as possible to pretend his Jewish heritage doesn’t exist. He clothes himself in symbols of WASP heroism—renaming himself after King Arthur, often seen wearing Captain America T-shirts—openly glorifies pretty much every mythology aside from his own (Greek, Norse, Welsh, even Japanese), and pointedly expresses himself in secular pop-culture references.
When his father Schlomo is killed in action protecting the Tzohar Stone (here’s our MacGuffin, a blessed crystal with healing abilities, rumored to even be able to resurrect the dead) from the demon Igrat (this book’s Big Bad), Arthur’s latent powers reawaken. He must be inducted into the Sanhedrin and claim his destiny. This is at odds with Arthur’s staunch belief that Jewish people are inherently… the losers of history. Never heroes, always victims. His inferiority complex is a major focus of his character arc, and is brought into stark relief when his present is juxtaposed with truly emotionally hard-hitting flashbacks to his childhood, especially of his absent father, more devoted to the Sanhedrin than his family, and the murder of his mother in an anti-Semitic hate crime. Throughout the novel, he struggles with understanding what it means to be Jewish—not just as Sanhedrin, but for him specifically—and to overcome his impulses to latch onto other mythologies out of internalized shame, or lash out in violent revenge against those who meet him and his people with unjust hatred.
The novel shines in the exploration of this theme of identity and heritage. Arthur has a foil in the character Rifka—one of our antagonists, she summons the demon Igrat and kills Arthur’s father on a mission to take the Tzohar Stone and use it to resurrect her dead husband, who died in an exorcism conducted by the Sanhedrin. Rifka has been burned by her extremely traditional Jewish community due to her and her husband’s infertility, and bears a deep grudge against the Sanhedrin in particular for his death. Like Arthur, she rejects her heritage and faith out of pain and betrayal, but finds this a self-destructive path and must grapple with whether she will truly see it through. Another foil is Tzvi, a Hasidic teenager and Sanhedrin-in-training, who is beginning to take interest in the secular world—he and Arthur serve as each other’s tutors in this regard, each learning from the other and helping blend their two cultures.
I was impressed by the novel’s dedication to a diversity and complexity of Jewish experiences. Its message seems to be that the “right” way to be Jewish is mostly about looking at Jewish history and culture with clear eyes, and deciding how to authentically live out your birthright—whether ultra-traditional or secular, dyed in the wool or a prodigal child, black, white, Latino, Asian, and everything in between.
From a craft perspective, the book does have strengths and weaknesses. Like many debut novels, it is quite derivative and a little tacky in terms of the use of a fantasy setting and conventions. There seems to be a clear Severus Snape expy, down to having greasy black hair and hating our protagonist due to a grudge against his father. There is a plot twist at the end that takes Arthur from Chosen One to Extremely Special Chosen One, which didn’t really add anything to the story and felt just a bit eyeroll-inducing. The writing betrays some hallmarks of the male gaze—women’s bodies are commented on a bit more than men’s, and their plotlines tend to revolve around boyfriends and husbands. And while I praise the novel’s commitment to its theme, it is VERY heavy-handed and repetitive about Arthur’s fraught relationship with his heritage, hammering the message constantly and having Arthur quip about it long after the point has been made. On that note, I also spent the entire novel really, really hoping we wouldn’t end Arthur’s character arc on the extremely cheesy note of Arthur deciding to go back to using his birth (and much more Hebrew) name, Aaron… of course,that’s exactly what we did.
On the other hand, the novel is genuinely thrilling and action-packed, while at the same time not losing sight of its strong thematic core. The climax of the book definitely swept me up and took my breath away; I found myself cheering and exclaiming out loud while reading. The prose as a whole is also highly readable, with a distinct tone—vivid and poignant, but with a bit of bite, slightly reminiscent of Stephen King. Arthur’s personality and emotions clearly come through in his point of view; this is one of the few novels where I felt the pop culture references didn’t cheapen the prose and instead made thematic sense with Arthur’s story. On the whole, I found this a very promising debut novel, and a solid entry into the urban fantasy genre, with more depth than one might initially expect.
TLDR: Action-packed and engrossing, this novel is a solid, if typical, fantasy adventure with a powerful emotional core and strong exploration of the theme of reclaiming one’s identity and heritage. As a debut novel, it is definitely not perfect—it can feel cheesy and on-the-nose at times—but is genuinely an exciting, fun reading experience. If you are looking for a contemporary “hero’s journey” or “Chosen One” story that also grapples with deeper emotional and cultural themes, you may like this one.
Recommended for: Readers looking for a fast-paced and familiar action-adventure urban fantasy story; readers who appreciate highly cultural settings and themes; immigrants and third-culture kids, especially from marginalized identities and/or former colonized nations
And now onto a more detailed review…
The Sanhedrin Chronicles is in many ways your typical urban fantasy “Chosen One” story: a newly-orphaned young adult steps into a hitherto-unknown magical world, must keep their new powers secret, discovers they have a unique grand destiny, and fights battles against forces of darkness and evil, growing in their abilities and gaining powerful allies (and special artifacts) along the way.
What The Sanhedrin Chronicles brings to the loaded table of “Chosen One” adventures is a plot that marries this admittedly common outline with a truly compelling emotional core: the reclamation of one’s heritage and identity, on one’s own terms—not just blindly following or thoughtlessly rebelling against tradition, but deciding how one reckons with and lives out one’s culture, even when it has been a source of pain and betrayal.
Arthur Rose (born Aaron Rose) hates his Jewishness, in no small part because of his Hasidic Jewish father who neglected and abandoned him. This father also just happens to be a member of “the Sanhedrin,” a secret order of Jewish magicians and sages who protect the world from demons and uphold balance and justice with ancient Hebrew magic (you know this drill). We meet Arthur as a 21-year-old college student who tries as much as possible to pretend his Jewish heritage doesn’t exist. He clothes himself in symbols of WASP heroism—renaming himself after King Arthur, often seen wearing Captain America T-shirts—openly glorifies pretty much every mythology aside from his own (Greek, Norse, Welsh, even Japanese), and pointedly expresses himself in secular pop-culture references.
When his father Schlomo is killed in action protecting the Tzohar Stone (here’s our MacGuffin, a blessed crystal with healing abilities, rumored to even be able to resurrect the dead) from the demon Igrat (this book’s Big Bad), Arthur’s latent powers reawaken. He must be inducted into the Sanhedrin and claim his destiny. This is at odds with Arthur’s staunch belief that Jewish people are inherently… the losers of history. Never heroes, always victims. His inferiority complex is a major focus of his character arc, and is brought into stark relief when his present is juxtaposed with truly emotionally hard-hitting flashbacks to his childhood, especially of his absent father, more devoted to the Sanhedrin than his family, and the murder of his mother in an anti-Semitic hate crime. Throughout the novel, he struggles with understanding what it means to be Jewish—not just as Sanhedrin, but for him specifically—and to overcome his impulses to latch onto other mythologies out of internalized shame, or lash out in violent revenge against those who meet him and his people with unjust hatred.
The novel shines in the exploration of this theme of identity and heritage. Arthur has a foil in the character Rifka—one of our antagonists, she summons the demon Igrat and kills Arthur’s father on a mission to take the Tzohar Stone and use it to resurrect her dead husband, who died in an exorcism conducted by the Sanhedrin. Rifka has been burned by her extremely traditional Jewish community due to her and her husband’s infertility, and bears a deep grudge against the Sanhedrin in particular for his death. Like Arthur, she rejects her heritage and faith out of pain and betrayal, but finds this a self-destructive path and must grapple with whether she will truly see it through. Another foil is Tzvi, a Hasidic teenager and Sanhedrin-in-training, who is beginning to take interest in the secular world—he and Arthur serve as each other’s tutors in this regard, each learning from the other and helping blend their two cultures.
I was impressed by the novel’s dedication to a diversity and complexity of Jewish experiences. Its message seems to be that the “right” way to be Jewish is mostly about looking at Jewish history and culture with clear eyes, and deciding how to authentically live out your birthright—whether ultra-traditional or secular, dyed in the wool or a prodigal child, black, white, Latino, Asian, and everything in between.
From a craft perspective, the book does have strengths and weaknesses. Like many debut novels, it is quite derivative and a little tacky in terms of the use of a fantasy setting and conventions. There seems to be a clear Severus Snape expy, down to having greasy black hair and hating our protagonist due to a grudge against his father. There is a plot twist at the end that takes Arthur from Chosen One to Extremely Special Chosen One, which didn’t really add anything to the story and felt just a bit eyeroll-inducing. The writing betrays some hallmarks of the male gaze—women’s bodies are commented on a bit more than men’s, and their plotlines tend to revolve around boyfriends and husbands. And while I praise the novel’s commitment to its theme, it is VERY heavy-handed and repetitive about Arthur’s fraught relationship with his heritage, hammering the message constantly and having Arthur quip about it long after the point has been made. On that note, I also spent the entire novel really, really hoping we wouldn’t end Arthur’s character arc on the extremely cheesy note of Arthur deciding to go back to using his birth (and much more Hebrew) name, Aaron… of course,
On the other hand, the novel is genuinely thrilling and action-packed, while at the same time not losing sight of its strong thematic core. The climax of the book definitely swept me up and took my breath away; I found myself cheering and exclaiming out loud while reading. The prose as a whole is also highly readable, with a distinct tone—vivid and poignant, but with a bit of bite, slightly reminiscent of Stephen King. Arthur’s personality and emotions clearly come through in his point of view; this is one of the few novels where I felt the pop culture references didn’t cheapen the prose and instead made thematic sense with Arthur’s story. On the whole, I found this a very promising debut novel, and a solid entry into the urban fantasy genre, with more depth than one might initially expect.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Body horror, Hate crime, Self harm, Violence, Blood, Antisemitism, Grief, Death of parent, Abandonment
Minor: Miscarriage, Misogyny