This Is Not a Love Story

by Judy Brown

A razor-sharp, hilarious, and poignant memoir about growing up in the closed world of the ultra-Orthodox Jewish community.

The third of six children in a family that harks back to a gloried Hassidic dynasty, Judy Brown grew up with the legacy of centuries of religious teaching, and the faith and lore that sustained her people for generations.

But her carefully constructed world begins to crumble when her "crazy" brother Nachum returns home after a year in Israel living with relatives. Though supposedly "cured," he is still prone to retreating into his own mind or erupting in wordless rages. The adults' inability to make him better - or even to give his affliction a name - forces Judy to ask larger questions: If God could perform miracles for her sainted ancestors, why can't He cure Nachum? And what of the other stories her family treasured?

Judy starts to negotiate with God, swinging from holy tenets to absurdly hilarious conclusions faster than a Talmudic scholar: she goes on a fast to nab coveted earrings; she fights with her siblings at the dinner table for the ultimate badge of honor ("Who will survive the next Holocaust?"); and she adamantly defends her family's reputation when, scandalously, her parents are accused of having fallen in love---which is absolutely not what pious people do.

For all its brutal honesty about this insular community, This is Not a Love Story is ultimately a story of a family like so many others, whose fierce love for each other and devotion to their faith pulled them through the darkest time in their lives.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Jewish, Judaism, Biography Memoir, Autistic Spectrum Disorder, Religion

343 pages, Hardcover

First published July 28, 2015

Reviews

[Lisa Jablonsky · Rating 4 out of 5]

A memoir of a young girl growing up in the Ultra Orthodox Hassidic community that has a brother who has severe autism before the condition even had a name.

An excellent portrayal of the challenges this family faced, and the love and faith that got them through it ultimately.

The book is described as hilarious. Not to me. It was moving poignant sad inspiring, even funny at times, but never hilarious.

How a young girl is able to synthesize this rigid world she lives in with the blame and repercussions her brother brings to the familys life seem very real. She has an interesting take on it all. The girl is able to quote the Talmud and this sects beliefs to explain how 'her crazy brother' is ruining her life and her family. For example her parents married for love! This is a crime to Hassids so clearly her family has been cursed with her crazy brother. Or too bad he doesnt have cancer, because God demands compassion for the sickly. Crazy is not sick. Etc. Cute, realistic, not hilarious. Please don't read it for hilarity. Read it to empathize, to be amazed, to be informed.

We follow the family for 2 decades which is a long time for a new medical diagnosis to emerge, for communities to evolve, for a boy to bloom, for a girl to grow up, for a mother to never give up on an outcast child, and a family to forge itself in love.

[Spider the Doof Warrior · Rating 1 out of 5]

I can't even deal with this book anymore. It's making me too angry. I swear non autistic people should be banned from writing about autism until they've talked to autistic people, read blogs by autistic people, read books written by autistic people who don't believe the crap Autism Speaks puts out about autistic people.

The sheer amount of ableism and hatred towards this autistic little boy is making it impossible for me to wade through. There's some interesting stuff about Jewish culture and history and then suddenly WHAM! The writer hopes her little brother eats poisonous berries and dies. Or POW the writer says her brother is cursed and can't love or feel and I'm just like, stab me in my autistic heart, why don't you?

This is torture to get through! Why do so many things have to be in the perspective of siblings or parents or experts who are still stuck in the Freudian days of Psychology and they can't even bother to listen to one autistic person who would say that we do feel and that sometimes the world is too loud and hurts too much for us and it doesn't help to just get smacked with non stop ableism like this!

And of course, I'll probably try again to finish this damn book, but just leafing through it is telling me this is a bad life decision. That I should just finish playing Dream Daddy and write some books about autism than won't make autistic people feel like they're getting kicked in the face.

But of course we don't have feelings and can't love, huh? Avoid this book, especially if you're autistic.

Nope. still not going to finish. I never hated a child more than I hate the narrator. Why was she like this? She had chances to learn about autism and refused to! Then, the poor brother gets his autism trained away and now he's more acceptable? man. no more of this book.

[Ines · Rating 3 out of 5]

i have to confess that i had hard time in the very first part of the book, i truly could not believe how a little girl could consider in such way her brother nothing more that a wart to cut out and hidden away......
i was near to leave the book.....but i was curious about a possible twist...-.. that came....
the second parte of the book was a for me a complete page turner....the possibility that in any circumstances and situation there is allways a way to change in better, the beauty and the positive could find a place to shine


( i an not english native, sorry for my grammar and syntax)

[Lois R. Gross · Rating 4 out of 5]

The author of this book previously wrote about sexual abuse in the NY Ultra-Orthodox Jewish community. Now she tackles another tough subject, focusing on her own family. Brown's younger brother, Nachum, was considered "crazy" by his family and friends. To any contemporary reader, it is clear that Nachum was actually on the Autism Spectrum and severely impaired. He lacked language and communication skills; acted out, violently; and was so self-destructive that he put his head through a wall of his yeshiva. Lacking the current resources to treat him, and tethered by the lack of knowledge and superstitions of a fundamentalist community, Brown's mother finally sent Nachum to stay with relatives in Israel where treatment and schools were already in existence. Through years of treatment, Nachum became verbal and socially functioning, and this part of the story is reassuring.

However, this is also the story of Nachum's siblings and how they dealt with their disabled brother, and with Brown's parents who were torn by their child's disability. Israeli immigrants and already unconventional because they married late and for love, the father has written his son off, at least in part. The mother runs from doctor to doctor seeking a cure and refusing to give up on her child. Meanwhile, her daughter bargains with G-d to fix or discard her brother who draws all the parents' attention and is an embarrassment in their insular community. More importantly, the presence of a mentally disabled sibling impacts all the siblings future marriage prospects because no one will marry into a family with the potential for a genetic disorder. In the course of the book, the author touches on how this is circumvented by lying to the matchmaker and future marriage partners.

Not a page-turner, but a heartfelt remembrance of how far we have come in the treatment and acceptance of individuals on the autism spectrum and how families and siblings need to be supported when dealing with a disabled child.

[Russell Sanders · Rating 3 out of 5]

When I received an e-mail from the Hatchett Book Group touting Judy Brown’s This Is Not a Love Story as “a razor sharp, hilarious, and poignant memoir about growing up in the closed world of the ultra-Orthodox Jewish community,” I ordered the book immediately. I’ve long been a student of anything Jewish, particularly anything Chasidic. I must say, however, that I was a bit disappointed in Brown’s book. It was that word “hilarious” that tripped me up. I expected full-out belly laughs throughout my reading, and while there was humor, the “poignant” overruled everything. Brown’s voice as her eight-year-old self is spot on, and there is humor in her reminiscences as she tells of dealing with her younger brother, a special needs child. The memoir is heartfelt and poignant, and it does offer an insight into the world of dealing with a sibling who is different in a major way. But, even though her family is indeed Chasidic, that is not dwelt upon. Their story could be that of most any family of most any religion. Yes, there are special considerations here because they do practice Chasidism, but I didn’t feel it overrode the story. I guess my biggest disappointment was not even a part of the memoir. The book jacket blurb says the author no longer practices Chasidism. I wanted to know why and hoped her book would at least explain that a bit. Alas, it didn’t, thus I feel cheated. Her childhood feelings are so tied to her religion, and she doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it at all. So one has to wonder why she abandoned it.

[Maggie Anton · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another excellent read from the author of Hush. Again written mostly from a child's POV & again dealing with a taboo subject for the ultra-Orthodox, this time autism. Actually this is a love story; ultimately the love of a mother for her "damaged/cursed" son and her determination to cure him, not institutionalize him.

[Christina Dudley · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was an honest, moving, sometimes funny memoir about growing up ultraorthodox Jewish with an autistic younger brother. I appreciated how Judy Brown unapologetically tells the first part of the story from her sub-third-grade POV: her brother is crazy, embarrassing, tearing the family apart, the product (her friends tell her) of a family curse. She just wishes God would fix him or make him go away. Brown's ability to remember what it's like to be a kid, understanding the adult world only in part and wanting the universe to operate along simple, transactional lines, make her parents' struggles and choices that much more powerful.

I was reminded at times of Haven Kimmel's memoir, at others of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. And I highlighted this passage:

"Some miracles take a long time. Some need more than forty days and nights; they take perhaps years of work and dedication. Some miracles unfold over time in stunning acts of transformation--a rock sculpted by wind and water, a seed turned into an oak, a mountain range pushed up, a canyon carved out. They're formed over years and centuries in stretched-out, slow-motion magic. Maybe you can't see it happening, but it is still a miracle.

"I'd been an idiot, I told God from within the murmuring crowd. Because five years on, I finally realized that He had never said no. He had only said 'Wait.'"

[Deese · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have to say I liked this book despite the derogatory references to "the goyim" and my own lack of empathy towards the insular and narrow-minded world of ultra-orthodox Jews, where 23 year old women are considered over-the-hill and losers if not married and non-Jews are scorned at and avoided. If the mom's family was so aristocratic and educated, you would they would be a bit more understanding. What came out loud and clear notwithstanding this, was the love and devotion of the mother for her autistic son, she never gave up on him and made sure the father and the rest of her kids didn't either. The daughter who wrote this book made sure this came out and for that she deserves credit. While this is a story about her own relationship to her autistic brother and how it evolved over the years, it is also a story of a mother's love, a mother who was a strictly religious woman who when told that the only school for the autistic in Israel was not very orthodox, she laughed and said she would worry about religion, let the school deal with the autism -- if that isn't love I don't know what is.

[Joey Gremillion · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brown wrote the book Hush about sexual abuse in the Chassidic community, so I was expecting her to be hypercritical of her community in discussing her brother's autism. This is not the case.

Although she is brutally honest of her and her family's struggle with understanding why the autism was happening and how to handle it, brown writes lovely of her dynastic lineage and her beloved family.
Reform book groups will probably reach for this book as a way to attack Orthodoxy and to accuse Orthodox communities of misogyny. Brown remains respectful of Chasidism.

[Selena · Rating 5 out of 5]

This Is Not A Love Story: A Memoir by Judy Brown! I loved this book! The family faces challenges, their love and faith gets them through it ultimately. I found this book honest, inspiring, funny at times, heartbreaking and extremely heart warming. A young girl growing up in the Ultra Orthodox Hasidic community. This is the 1980' and '90s, when autism is not fully understood, diagnosed, or dealt with.

[Hermien · Rating 5 out of 5]

A treasure. Amazing how the writer captured the logic and innocence of a young child. And also an important message about accepting people who are different.

[Hallie Cantor · Rating 4 out of 5]

Absorbing memoir of a Hassidic girl growing up with an autistic brother before the disorder became better known. Ms. Brown describes vividly her insular environment in Brooklyn, attending an ultra-Orthodox girls' school and growing up with a less-than-perfect sibling in a society that equates everything with sin and punishment.

Her family was under special scrutiny, and stigma, because of information Judy had gleaned of her parents, who had apparently married for love. Her mother, scion of a Hassidic dynasty, was expected to accept whoever was either chosen or deemed suitable for her. Judy's father, a sort of maverick, came from an impoverished family in Jerusalem. Although at different socioeconomic ends, the two "fell in love," and Judy's father willingly took on the customs of her mother's Hassidic group upon marriage. Nevertheless, their relationship, innocent by secular standards, was considered brazen and "cursed" -- ergo the reason for their son's autism.

As the sibling of someone (now deceased) with "special needs," though not autism, I can relate to the terrible stress, and the challenges, of living with someone whose behavior is unpredictable, if not embarrassing. Ms. Brown describes one scene in particular at a kosher pizza shop, where Nachum goes into full-blown meltdown. Unfortunately, like many disabled children, Nachum affected the family dynamic, causing frequent quarrels between his parents.

I couldn't help wondering if all of this even influenced the author's later decision to leave the fold -- along with the issue of sexual abuse in the Orthodox community, which was highlighted in her novel HUSH. Her parents' "outcast" status seemed reflected even in their physical surroundings, as the author grew up straddling two worlds -- modern Flatbush and shtetl Boro Park -- and occupying the margins of both. Her family even had Gentile tenants -- highly uncommon for a Hassidic family, which usually tries to avoid such contacts. Hers was unconventional in more ways than one, and perhaps Ms. Brown long ago had one foot out the door. The book, in fact, might have benefited from more positive Jewish content; the author's depiction of her religion was far too cynical, leaving me cold.

For Nachum, there is sort of a happy ending: he is eventually sent to a new, special school in Israel, where he actually blossomed to a certain degree. Apparently the author feels that the change of environment allowed him to find expression. They even developed a warm relationship. This book may provide some kind of guidance for those who on the one hand are desperately seeking proper treatment for their children on the spectrum while on the other feeling guilty over "abandonment." Sadly, however, the author's rejection of her heritage will probably drive Orthodox readers away.

[Eli Mandel · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book does not overlap Hush at all. There's no Devoiry and Gittel became Menucha. But the lovable upstairs neighbor Kathy still lives upstairs with her very goyishe husband.

We are thrust directly into the large, yet tiny, world that Brown’s family inhabits.
What’s it like for the second generation after the holocaust, being raised by the children of deeply scarred holocaust survivors? There are Nazis lurking everywhere, and the upstairs neighbor, a goy, might save you when the next holocaust came, and that is the only reason you’re allowed to be friends with her.

The scenes of poverty Brown paints in Jerusalem were as vivid and emotive to me as those in Angela's Ashes.

Judy Brown lives in a decidedly binary world. There are Jews and non-Jews. The former are good, the latter are bad, the former are going to heaven, the latter are going to hell. There are also secular Jews, but they’re just like non-Jews, they’re bad and they will go to hell.
There are two sides in Jerusalem, the rich and the poor side.
There are the royal rabbinic dynasties and there are milkmen.
There is falling in love and touching, which is disgusting and is reserved for goyim, and there is never touching your spouse and just barely liking them.
There is normal and there is crazy.
There is Borough Park which has no goyim, but only righteous Jews, and there’s Flatbush which has Ku Klux Klan cross-burning parties at night.
But her family occupies a middle zone. Her parents may have fallen in love before marriage and they may now live outside Jewish-dominated Borough Park among the goyim of Flatbush, but they are still devoutly religious. They may not live near their hasidic sect’s shul, but her father still puts his shtreimel on of a Friday evening and walks to the local shul with his sons in tow.
How to make sense of this confusing space her family occupies? This is Judy Brown's growing up story.

I do think the book could have stood to have some of its water boiled out in the middle, but it picks up steam again at the end and closes with a satisfying whistle.

[Max · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this memoir....

On the one hand - it is a very honest depiction of a young girl and her thoughts about her autistic brother. And on the other - it's a brutal description of a community that lacks resources, and more importantly, lacks empathy, for anyone that is slightly different from them.

I do need to give Brown kudos for writing this with such truth. It must have been hard to put some of this to paper. Her thoughts about Nachum, and the rest of her family, are not always the most charitable (to say the least). Yet, more than just a little girl's opinion this memoir stands as an indictment of an entire community and their response to a child that doesn't fit in.

It's fairly obvious from the start that Nachum is on the autism spectrum, and I find it hard to believe that even in the late 80's in New York City there were no resources, doctors or medical professionals who could help or diagnose him. I could be wrong on this - I don't know what the medical community was like for kids like this in the 80's.

But what really stands out in this is the response of the Chassidic community to a child like Nachum. For a community that is so steeped in ethics, morality, and religion, there is a decided lack of empathy towards Nachum and his family. Reasons ranged from assuming the family was being punished by god with a curse, to trying to ward off the evil eye, to Judy assuming it was a punishment from god because her parents fell in love before they were married. It seems to me that everyone here talked a good game about "higher souls" and being kind, yet nothing was actually done in reality.

This was an easy to read memoir that deals with a tough topic. More info on the actual community and how they dealt with Nachum (instead of everything being from a 10 year olds perspective) would not have been amiss, and more info from Judy's perspective when she was older would have been great to read.

[Jessica · Rating 3 out of 5]

When Judy Brown was growing up she was constantly embarrassed by her younger brother Nachum. Their family was ultraorthodox Chassidic Jews and in the late 1980's autism wasn't really on many people's radars, but especially in this insular community. Nachum couldn't speak and would freak out over loud noises or if touched. Judy constantly prayed that God would fix her brother or at least take him away. Their mother devotes her life to getting Nachum help finally sending him to live in Israel with family and that is where after years he is finally diagnosed as autistic and gets the therapy and help he needs. Within a few years of his diagnosis he can read and write and speak. After being away from her brother for 6 years when Judy first goes to visit him she "...realized that He [God] had never said no. He had only said, 'Wait.'"(p. 295) Judy starts to develop a real relationship with Nachum and begins to see their childhood in a different light now that she understands more about autism. The book kind of dragged on in the middle when she was SO caught up in being embarrassed by her brother, but the end made the whole book. The relationship they have and her love for him shines through. Growing up with a severely autistic sibling would be hard for anyone, but I think it was even harder because of their ultraorthodox community where the common practice was to send away any "imperfect" children. The fact that their parents didn't do that says a lot about them.

In the info about her in the back of the book it says that she left Chassidism after being revealed as the author of a controversial book. I'm curious to know about that experience and maybe she'll write another book about that journey.

[Moira-ji]

trigger warnings if you're autistic.

a girl growing up in a prominent Chassidic family struggles with the fact that her brother is (called a lot of very demeaning things, but is actually) autistic. along with everyone else in the community, she scrutinizes her parents' history to find out why they are being punished and what this means for her future.

this is a very honest memoir. I have not been such a sibling, but the scenes she describes resonate with my own memories (of being and raising an autistic child)(esp in a religiously conservative community), and they are disturbing and unflattering to say the least. many readers assume I mean the scenes her brother made, but the same passages describe how her brother was treated and regarded by everyone around him. the eight-year-old perspective from which Judy Brown wrote describes her world and herself with unrelenting candor.

"The people on my side of the chasm saw what my brother had as a frightful disease. They feared it, and I absorbed the fear. They loathed it, and so did I. They called it a curse because they did not have the words to explain it, and where there are no words, there is always fear." pg 300

this is a coming of age story about a girl, her brother, and their family that was very interesting for a goy to read, and which had some hard truths about cure and acceptance. It was utterly hillarious in moments as well, even though parts were painful to read as an autistic.

[Alisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

I got this book from GoodRead's First Reads and I was skeptical. I've read the coming of age and abandoning family's culture books. I know that this author has written books like that. I opened the book with a specific bias. We've read these books before... do we need another? Instead, this book honestly displays a child's perspective of growing up and struggling with an autistic sibling. In an era where children with disabilities were hidden away and removed from family life, this family struggles as well. Addressing the needs of the child with disabilities, the other children, and the parents, while still remaining a cohesive family unit is difficult. And this young girl describes her perspective of these events.

[Lisa · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hmm, I'd say 3 1/2 stars. The first part of this memoir was really interesting. An ultra-orthodox family is dealing with a very troubled son. No one knows what his problem is or what to do about him, and they eventually send him to live in Jerusalem with family to be "cured." Once he comes back home to Brooklyn, he is still causing troubles, so back to Jerusalem he goes. I skimmed several chapters - old stories and fables that were unnecessary to the story - but the last few chapters were very good. When the boy's older sister, who narrates the story, goes to Jerusalem to visit her brother for the first time in years, she's amazed to find how much better he is, and she gives the best explanation of autism I've ever read.

[natalie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was not at all what I expected and it was a page turner for me. Autism and the Chasidic Judaic culture in N.Y. in its intricacies was so clearly told.

The persistence of a mother to find an answer for her son who was "different." The great lengths she went to to find that answer and how the rest of the family coped with the situation.

Written thru the eyes of a sibling growing up in this environment and her feelings - how the sister struggled to understand. And when she finally understood why her brother was the way he was, she was finally at peace.

A very well-written book on a very delicate subject. Thank you, Goodreads, for the opportunity to win this book.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is the story of a family in the 60's that doesn't understand how to rear their undiagnosed, but clearly autistic son. It is a portrait of a past poorly equipped to help those with special needs and shows how far we have fortunately come today. It has the layered Jewish theme with the fact that the family is Chassidic, and the author's stories layer elements of Jewish tradition and culture in-between the main story of the author's connection to her differently-abled brother. Overall, I think I wanted even more Jewish content, but this book is accessible to any reader, regardless of their background.

[Michelle Ule · Rating 2 out of 5]

An interesting book telling the story of how a Chadish family in Brooklyn dealt with/didn't deal with an autistic child 30 years ago.

I realize it's a memoir, but I got tired of all the details told from the child point of view of the sister who wrote this book. I think I wanted an adult perspective and she didn't stay on topic as well as I would have liked.

She only needed to give us one scene of her being called a liar, for example.

So, for insight on a religious Jewish family dealing with an autistic child, this will provide that to some extent but you have to wade through an awful lot of information and story you don't need.

[Christina W · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pretty surprised that people are lambasting this book because of the first half. She was a child! In an intensely isolated ultra-religious environment, in the 80s. I was actually quite impressed with her willingness to express her true feelings, as she felt them as a child, when she could have just as easily put a better, false, spin on it.

Parts of the book were funny, and I appreciated the irony of parts, like her thinking that she lives next to 2 of the 36 good-hearted goyim in the whole world—it felt like a little glimpse into why she left Chassidism. I think this book may have benefited from a glossary, for readers who are less familiar with the various Yiddish and Hebrew terms.

[Debbie · Rating 5 out of 5]

It was easy for me to relate to Judy Brown's story. I am not Jewish so it was not that part that drew me in. Her brother's disability and the family's reaction was believable. I know first hand that siblings and parents do not always deal with a child's disability in a saintly way. I also personally witnessed that with time and treatment children like Judy's brother can make the remarkable improvements described in this book. I was engaged with this book from beginning to end.

[Adele · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book tells not only Menuchah's story, but that of her autistic brother, and how they each conquered their difficulties because of his autism. The reader learns a lot about autism and its effects on family dynamics.

[Giddy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sensitive telling of her own story as the sister of an autistic boy, who is also a chasid.

[Carol Elliott · Rating 3 out of 5]

As most ethnic groups that live close together and children are in private schools, this book certainly sheds a bad light on that particular Chasidic group. Long-time residents with shared backgrounds usually care for their elderly and absorb and protect their “different” individuals. Maybe there were more parts to the story, as the perspective was from child to young adult, yet, there was little mention of others in their shul or neighborhood supporting or helping this family. The word “crazy” continued. I’ve rolled over sixty-seven years, and I would never have been allowed to call a person “crazy.” She also refers to herself as an idiot – a classification that has not been used for years. “Crazy” is insulting and shows the lack of empathy, not just diagnosis. That word would not have been in her school text. Before the author was born, my small, Midwestern town knew of such children and their disorders; they were special needs children before the name – this book seems 1800’s to me.

Delivery of past and present between paragraphs at times, slight confusion. This is a story that should be shared with humanity for the sake of autistic spectrum disorder and I think it’s possible in this memoiristic approach, this added a healing aspect to tell her story, and lack of disaster in the end for her brother.

I expected a tad more from someone with a masters in creative writing. It’s not difficult to retell, describe an existing story of your life. Plus, it’s been written once in another form. The prose is above average, narration very good, yet lacked depth for me. She nabbed conveying the words and thoughts of a child and carried that voice consistently. The title of the book, I consider good for the reader, you question if it means she did not love her brother; this could allude to the balance throughout the book of whether her parents actually loved each other; or are these words put together for the title to alert that the entire book is not a bed of roses read? It is a unique story because of the religiosity; however the circumstances are not unique. There could be the denouement, yet, she presents new fears at the end as she had questioned genetics with her first pregnancy and again during the second baby. Book reviews are to highlight strong and weak points of a book, which those views are merely the views of one reader. Rarely do I criticize more than one element of a book, yet, again, this is an educated writer and I believe it offers feedback for future writings. There are general rules of how many times, in a manuscript, should an author begin a sentence with “I.” Scanning this book, it’s overladen with such sentences or paragraph introductions. Another example was the description, “It was dark outside, the moon dangling from the clouds like an old man’s lantern.” In many high school or college classes, points subtracted if making an analogy and no substitution for the word, “like.”

I enjoyed the historical elements of her family as that added depth and reasoning for her questioning some of the oral traditions. Believe she could have shortened her word count by eliminating some of the repetitions of her ancestry, it was crucial, but excess invites criticism.

Also, because the author mentioned wigs, her mother’s and others, I think the reader deserves one to two sentences explaining the custom. Since she spoke of Talmud teachings, this could be introduced under that category. I’m Jewish, so this element was descriptive, yet not all Jews are cognizant of whether this is to create privacy; head covering as the men do with a kippah; or head covering to place a psychological barrier between wearer and others – which could have played well into this story as many in her community did not help or support their challenged child. For those (millions) who have never heard of this practice, I think it should have a short explanation.

When a writer introduces a character (Kathy) and mentions the person several times – three-fourths of the book, shouldn’t there be some closure on Kathy? I think last mentioned is her gift for Nachum for his bar mitzvah. If there was such a neighbor, given the name Kathy for the book, that was a good example of their friendship and the role she played in Menuchah’s life, contrasting the teaching of fearing and not associating with goyim. Nonetheless, she vanished. Menuchah when to college and did not keep in touch with her forbidden friend, or Kathy and husband moved?

One book review stated: “ . . . an honest critical eye and a gentleness.” As an avid reader, the critical eye would have been the last physician who was able to diagnosis and help her brother. (One has to think there was someone in the U.S. to make this diagnosis.) Otherwise, I read it as caring parents, respectful siblings and a loving family in Israel. The sister’s critical eye was mere criticism without opening her eyes until she had experienced many birthdays and even then, there were times she still questioned her brother, knowing he did not . . . and could not and did not want to go back to the times of his youth. By page 330 she submitted five questions to him as they walked, knowing this approach was disturbing.

As I’ve now investigated more information on the author, (I knew of the first book, but had not read it) if correct, she states she is now agnostic. That might be why she did not hyphenate the word G-d. I support any world religion, agnostics and atheists – the last two many times are in the hard sciences. There are probably many reasons she chose to leave that sect, maybe one of them was, as I stated, the lack of support. For my sake, I hope they were not as cold as portrayed and her teacher, Mrs. Friedman, well, she could have been a nun in another story. :smiling: Just my personal observation, I have sometimes been surprised at the level of education of many Chasidic Jews, yet, their holdings to what I would consider superstitious, has surprised me. Superstitions were commonly connected with lower socioeconomic and educational levels. A perfect example would be the lack of communication in her immediate family and the notion of tapping on Nachum’s lip before birth. Extensive detail toward Shabbat and tradition yet comes across as people having too many children and lack of time to enjoy and communicate with each one of them.

This is painful to put in print, but throughout the book, I could think of one word, “brat.” It wasn’t because her disciplines were a stare or a higher pitch to her mother’s voice, she appeared to be quite rebellious, and discipline does not always address that issue, she didn’t appear to love anyone in her life and not respectful of rules or others; or, unable to write to that depth although now a prolific writer? Maybe it was merely this book? Thousands of Americans have tragedy in their immediate family, yet they still form kindness and humor at a young age. There were a few examples of affection with her teasing father, and maybe the author was trying to show this void – to exhibit the crisis and flaws. The occurrence of her mother and her exasperation were understood in print and the loving, accepting family in Israel brought some warmth to the read. (Where these book reviews promised humor, uh, I saw none.) Either a cold child – she being “handicapped” for lack of caring, friendship toward others after a certain age . . . or the beginning of a narcissistic personality when honest empathy is not possible? Brother and sister having an adult conversation when she realizes he has read an article she published about him, not expecting him to read that, there is this exchange: “’Yih-yes,’ he answered. ‘But – but. But when you were a little girl – you, you you – you were also autistic?’” What did I miss? Did the book imply she was at a higher level in the autistic spectrum, therefore explaining her behaviors?

[Melissa · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting memoir of a Chasidic Jewish girl's experience growing up with a severely autistic brother in a community with little understanding or empathy for differences. The author portrays herself as a pretty self absorbed and mischievous child who is not kind to, and often mean to her brother. It is interesting to hear her and others' perspectives on the reasons for her brother's condition from a religious viewpoint and also to hear about the history of her parents' relationship. Ultimately the book becomes more poignant and hopeful.

[Kimberly Walls · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a very easy book to read, and I found myself easily reading 100+ pages, even when I was tired. A good choice if you enjoy deep looks into strict religious families, and how they deal with different health issues, particularly mental health and neuro-divergence.

[char · Rating 2 out of 5]

I enjoyed many parts of this book -- I thought that Brown's writing style was excellent, particularly the way that she captured her 8 year old voice. I also appreciated her honesty, even though that was difficult to read at times. And I especially liked reading about her trying to understand autism through a Chassidic lens. I wish that more of the book focused on that.

Instead, she ends up focusing half of the book on her own family history, particularly around her parents' and other relatives' marriages. I understand why -- she, as a child, is trying to explain the "curse" on her family -- but it ends up being very disjointed and the connection between the past and present is not always clear.

I was also very frustrated with the last two sections of the book. If this wasn't a memoir, I would have pegged Nachum's new school as a deus-ex-machina move. Menuchah's conversation with her cousin about autism towards the end seemed more textbook than her genuinely understanding her brother, and I wish it were made more explicit -- actually shown in the narration, rather than just told through dialogue -- that Nachum wasn't "cured" of autism, he simply learned how to act neurotypical by rote.

I also wish that Menuchah showed a deeper level of understanding about her relationship with her brother. She didn't do anything to help him grow. It was entirely her aunt's family. If Nachum didn't have his aunt and cousins, or if his parents didn't have the resources to send him to Israel to attend what must be an expensive school, he would still be non-verbal, constantly anxious, etc. While the epilogue would suggest otherwise, love is not enough to provide the resources an autistic child needs.

Like I said, I enjoyed many parts of this book, and I hope it inspires others, especially in the Chassidic community, to learn more about autism and neurodiversity and to not, y'know, give up their neurodivergent children at birth.....

[Megan · Rating 4 out of 5]

The first 65-75% of this book is so painful. It’s so obvious that this boy has autism and isn’t being properly served. His entire family isn’t being properly served. I worked with children with autism as a behavior therapist, and my heart kept breaking to read the scenes of how difficult things were for Nachum and his family, particularly in the face of the religious prejudice the Orthodox Jewish community instilled at the time. I had to keep reminding myself that it was 30 years ago, that Brown is relating the experience of a little girl whose brother was not receiving effective therapy in a community that told her it was the result of a curse. I wanted to reach through the years and shake the past until it knew what to do. Thank God, Nachum eventually received effective therapy in an environment that could support his growth. Moreover, Brown’s family, Brown herself, and the Orthodox community at large, grow and mature to a better appreciation of Nachum and people like him. The emotional payoff of seeing the transformation in not just the individuals in this story but knowing how the community has changed is worth the stress of the book’s beginnings.