To know her is to love her....

My friend Dvora Meyers has a brilliant meditation on the Jewishness of the hot mess that is one Amy Winehouse in Tablet.

I never quite saw Winehouse in Jewish terms... More, in Janis Joplin-burning-bright-and-not-long-for-this-world terms. But Dvora makes a convincing case.

If you take nothing else from this article, it will give you a chance to appreciate just how tender a singer Winehouse can be -- especially when she sings a sweet, simple long song like "To Know Him Is To Love Him" -- written by that other Jewish hot mess.

In honor of Passover

This is a little early, but it's time to get in the mindset.

Plugs and kisses

In a modest attempt to get myself to blog more, I'm going to make this a week of plugging things for my friends. (Calm down, calm down... nothing I'm recommending isn't something I wouldn't read myself.)

First up, I'd like to mention my friend Dvora Meyers' site Unorthodox Gymnastics. (Dvora is a writer, a recovering Orthodox Jew and a gymnastics nut.)

Her article today is about how the Orthodox Union is approaching sex ed through a new web site -- namely, they favor an abstinence approach.

The sex ed stuff is more or less what you'd expect. (Crapola along the lines of, "condoms can break"; "you could have suicidal thoughts after sex"; "men prefer virgins", etc.) But Dvora has an interesting tidbit at the end of the article:

"As much as I mock this site (and believe me, I've only scraped the tip of the iceberg), it is still more than what I was offered in high school, which was nothing. In the sixth grade, we learned about menstruation and there endeth the lesson."

Fascinating.

OK, stay tuned for a plug for my godfather's new web site tomorrow.

Mmm.... babka

My friend Dvora Meyers has a pretty sweet round-up of Jewish desserts in Tablet.

I, for one, never liked those Stella D'Oro Swiss Fudge Cookies. Not because they were that bad. But because they always looked so appetizing and never tasted quite right. I always readied my mouth for a mouth-watering lump of silky smooth chocolate, and it always tasted kind of meh. Now I figured out why: They were made without cream.

It's all coming together now...

But babka rules!

The humor of desperation

Watching the new documentary Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work, I started getting depressed about two-thirds of the way through. This is when Rivers goes to a Comedy Central roast of herself.

If I had managed my investments better, she tells the camera, there is no way I would agree do this.

As she sits in her limo, squeezed off in one lonely corner by the window, she sighs as she anticipates the insults that are coming her way: Plastic surgery jokes, naturally. Age jokes are sure to follow. (She's 77.) The idea that it's a "great honor" is simply ridiculous.

But the money is very good, she admits. (A fact she will bring up more than once.) And while she is hardly living in poverty, keeping up her grand life style requires compromises.

It felt a little like watching Mickey Rourke readying himself for a bout in The Wrestler. There is routine. There is familiarity. There is weariness. And there is a sense of duty about it.

Depending on your perspective, it's either deeply pathetic or somewhat moving. Maybe a bit of both.

Which is more or less the way I felt about this movie as a whole.

There was a time when Joan Rivers was an extremely funny comedienne -- who was better, I think, than she is commonly remembered. She was a sassy Jewish gal -- who was cutting and clever, who was clearly no dope, and who had an unapologetic persona: Jewish American Princess. (The first popular version, in a way.) A princess who was blistering with insecurities, but who was fully aware of them. And who took a certain pleasure in them.

But Rivers has transformed into something else over the years. While she was greatly successful, there was always a sense that she could have been bigger. Her career took a number of tumbles. (After her feud with Johnny Carson, she went into a tailspin.) The plastic surgery made her -- as she herself says -- a joke. And her personal life took its tolls. (Her husband committed suicide in the 1980s.) Her comedy became somewhat meaner and more jaded.

In A Piece of Work, Rivers is at times very funny about her current station in life -- but also one of the more bitter and self-pitying people I've ever seen depicted on screen.

She will turn down nothing. (Including penis enhancement commercials that William Shatner and George Hamilton had the good sense to pass up.) We watch this little Jewish woman hoofing it through airports and casinos -- her face plastered over casino billboards (and even the poker tables) -- and staying in ice bound Wisconsin hotels.

You have to admire such tenacity. Even as you recognize how sad it is. It is far more bearable to endure the indignities of being a vagabond than the agonizing realization that her moment is long over. (She can barely contain her jealousy of Kathy Griffin, her heir apparent, who makes a little cameo.)

This movie is also (at times) funny. Although probably not as funny as a lot of the people in my audience found it. Both the Times and New York magazines articles are overly generous.

But I will admit that when Rivers is in the ratty clubs, trying out new material, I laughed. The mind working behind these jokes is quite sophisticated. (Not much is lost on her.) These jokes are sometimes as barbed and as scatological as the filthy Sarah Silverman. (Not that Rivers would find such a comparison complimentary. She no doubt feels the same rage towards Silverman that she does towards Griffin.)

Most of the best jokes in the movie could not be repeated on a family blog (and, to be honest, I don't remember the build up quite enough to do them justice). But I think my favorite moment is when she's at a tribute to George Carlin and nervously going through all the comedians she'll be sharing the stage with: Bill Maher (brilliant!); Garry Shandling (brilliant!); Jon Stewart (smart!) until she finally gets to Ben Stiller.

"Eh..." she trails off with expert timing.

The joke works because it shows that Rivers is not without good taste and judgement. (And that she's catty as hell.)

Marvelous Malcolm

Is Janet Malcolm the greatest American writer alive?

I sometimes think so.

No, I don't think Malcolm has ever produced anything as interesting as, say, My Life as a Man or American Pastoral. But if you look at Philip Roth's last three books, they look like a stab at former glory rather than something original and relevant. The themes seem slightly stale. The writing is a lot flabbier than it used to be.

The same could probably be said of Toni Morrison and E.L. Doctorow and many of our other great writers. It's not their fault; sometimes you've said what you needed to say.

But there are a few writers who seem to get better with age. And if you look at Malcolm's piece in the New Yorker this week (subscription required) about the trial of Mazoltuv Borukhova, you see a writer whose talents have not diminished at all. If anything, they've gotten stronger.

I realize, it's a little unfair bunching these writers in together. Fiction is a very different animal than journalism. But when the voice is as good as Malcolm's (when what she has to say feels so urgent and exciting) it's irresistible pairing the two.

The Borukhova trial, in case you haven't heard about it, was a case of a Queens doctor and Orthodox Bukharan Jew, who was accused of having her husband murdered in order to get custody of their four year old daughter.

After reading the piece, I still have no idea if the woman was innocent or guilty. I have no idea whether her husband was a monster or a saint. But I certainly think it's possible that she's innocent. It's very possible that she's guilty -- but her husband deserved it. And I can also see it as an instance in which every accusation leveled against Borukhova is correct, and that she's where she ought to be.

But whether she's innocent or guilty, it also seems obvious to me that she did not have a fair trial.

And the innocence or guilt in this case seem besides the point. What Malcolm does which is so remarkable is her unpacking of everything that happens in a trial; she goes through the motions of a trial -- its expectations, its theater, its players -- with such an eye for detail that she really makes you rethink everything. Every action deserves second guessing. Every actor is slightly different than you thought he or she was.

What Malcolm's doing is what a great artist like Roth or Morrison or Doctorow is supposed to do: She's offering a different perspective.

It really is a treat. Hats off to you, Miss Malcolm. I will always remain a devoted follower!

Mistaken jewbilation

Like many Jews I have a habit of counting up Jewish celebs.

When a celebrity comes along who has a Jewish sounding name, or a face that could only come from shtetl Poland, I'm the first to go to wikipedia and check them out. (We have a weird need to make sure our brand is still good. Don't ask why, we just do.)

Last night I thought I had a doozy: Austalian snowboarder, Torah Bright.

Granted, she doesn't look Jewish. (In fact, she looks really not Jewish.) And snowboarding is just about the least Jewish sport known to man.

But with a name like "Torah"? I mean, the chances sound pretty good to me. And she's Australian, which has always had a pretty decent sized Jewish population. I was about to get very excited...

Turns out, Torah is a Mormon.

Oh, well...

(That being said, who the hell names their child "Torah"?)

Ha- ha- ha- happy Hanukkah!

In honor of the festival lights, enjoy this truly genius little video, Kosher Face.

Doggone it!

Yes, I admit that the Times has made what one would call "interesting choices" over the years in their Jewish coverage...

But Jack Shafer is getting entirely too bent out of shape about the Hebrew speaking dog story.

If you haven't read it, the Times reported on Saturday about a bomb sniffing dog that the police got from Israel. So all its basic commands ("Stay!" "Speak!") are in Hebrew. The local cops (not Jews) had to learn a few Hebrew phrases so they could communicate with the dog.

That's a cute story, if you ask me.

The problem was not the story. The problem was that someone buried the lede on this.

The dog should have been front and center. Somehow, the piece got polluted into an article saying that, yes, there are Jews in Montana -- which, as Shafer rightly points out, is no big surprise. (Idaho? Maybe.)

And, honestly, once they told the basic story of the dog -- or at least broached the subject -- it wouldn't have been a terrible thing to write about the Jews of Montana. One of the reasons that the Jews have such an interesting story, is because they show up in so many different places, and yet seem to also keep their common identity as Jews. The Jews of Peru and Baghdad are fascinating stories. How these (sometimes hostile) cultures digest the phenomenon of the Jews is absolutely an interesting topic.

Montana doesn't quite make it... but I defy someone to tell me that the idea of non-Jews learning Hebrew to speak to a dog isn't a story!

Dept. of corrections

Tossed off in Jennifer Senior's Intelligencer write up about the fact that Jews are thrilled that Chelsea Clinton is marrying into the tribe is this:

"This is one of those instances where the prize—the First Daughter!—outshines the loss to the tribe (like when Arthur Miller wed Marilyn Monroe)."

Hate to correct you, Jennifer, but Arthur Miller did not convert when he married Marilyn Monroe. In fact, it was the other way around. In Norman Mailer's book Marilyn he describes the conversion -- which was something like 45 minutes in the Rabbi's study, and some cooking lessons from Miller's mother.

And, no offense to Cheslea (who seems like a dear girl) but given the choice between Marilyn and Chelsea, I'd take Marilyn. But I'm superficial.

Apologies to Justin -- and all the other Kirks

I stand corrected.

A reader informs me that Justin Kirk is a member of the tribe.

"His mother is Jewish on both sides of her ancestry," the note read. "This isn't speculation, believe me."

My reader's last name is Kirk. So I'll have to defer to him on this. My apologies to Justin. (If it makes you feel any better, Justin, I honestly think you're a wonderful actor. And don't think I've forgotten how brilliant you were in Angels in America!)

Well, I guess nobody's Jewdar is perfect.

Can non-Jews play Jews?

Joanna Smith Rakoff makes the case in Jewcy that Weeds is the most Jewish show on television.

I, too, admired the understated way in which Weeds made its Jewyness known. (This is despite the fact that the show itself was only good for about a season. (Season 2).) And I liked the overstated way they made the character of Andy (Justin Kirk) become a Rabbi in order to avoid army service. (Long story.)

The only thing that bothered me --

Justin Kirk is so not Jewish.

Not that he wasn't great. The first season was utterly limp until he showed up. But I will never, ever, ever believe that Justin Kirk is in training to be a Rabbi.

Which actually isn't all that unusual. A lot of great actors have failed the Jew test. There's no way I could believe Robert DeNiro was a nebbishy Jewish comedian in The King of Comedy. And even though I liked Defiance (and had mixed feelings about Munich) who decided that Daniel Craig was Jewish looking? (But at least he was more believable than Richard Gere who played the Rabbi in Bee Season. Oy.)

One of the reasons that Woody Allen movies in which he doesn't appear as an actor tend to be so crappy is because he picks such obviously non-Jewish actors (John Cusack, Kenneth Brannaugh) to play Woody Allen roles. Such an unfortunate decision.

In fact, it's sort of tough to think of a movie or play in which a non-Jewish actor has done a really good Jewish performance. It's true Maureen Stapleton (the quintessential Irish woman) gave a wonderful performance as Emma Goldman in Reds. And I was alone in thinking that Alfred Molina was not bad as Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. But otherwise, I'm sort of at a loss.

Asleep at the switch?

Question: Who at the Times's Dining Section thought it would be a good idea to make their lead story about Vietnamese sandwiches and their off-lead story about pizza on the day that about 20 percent of the city's population will stop eating bread for a week?

I'm speaking (of course) about the Jewish ritual (which is observed by your schlubby correspondent) called "Passover" in which we refrain from anything yeasty for the next 8 days.

And while I would never dream of faulting a venerable institution like the New York Times for not knowing all these pesky details about obscure religious observance, I always thought that there were at least a handful of Jews who work there. Who -- you know -- could explain to the others.

(I guess I shouldn't criticize: My own dear mother, who is of Hebrew persuasion, draws a paycheck from the Times. But she doesn't edit the Dining Section.)

The funny thing was, it occurred to me that this would be the perfect pair of stories to run exactly one week from now.

By day four of Passover, everybody gets nervous and edgy and would kill for a crust of real bread. If I saw this in the Times next week, I would be salivating.

Ah, what a fickle creature is Wikipedia...

I hope my non-Jewish readers out there do not take this the wrong way, but the moment schlubs like me hears there's a new Treasury Secretary we turn into our mothers.

"Is he Jewish?" we ask.

With a name like Timothy Franz Geithner, I tended to doubt it. But when I checked Wikipedia on Friday they listed (without a source) his religion as Jewish.

Alas, when I checked today, there was no religion listed at all. Moreover, Wiki said that he and his wife, Carole Sonnenfeld, were married by a reverend for the United Church of Christ.

Proving yet again you should never really trust Wikipedia for anything...

But it was a nice little rumor while it lasted.

(A couple of reasons why I think he still might be Jewish: He was born in Brooklyn. His mother is named Deborah. And his children are named Benjamin and Elise. On the other hand, his name is Timothy Geithner. I'm going to wait until I find a profile in The Forward.)

(Oh, and if you'd like to know something substantive about Geithner's personality and policies and whatnot, check out Noam Scheiber's profile in The New Republic.)

If case you get hungry this holy Yom Kippur...

Andy Samburg is to the rescue!

Have an easy fast ...

California, here I come!

L.A.'s Jewish Journal runs Marissa Brostoff's interview with yours truly from The Forward.

Hallelujah!

I find it slightly difficult to contain my excitement but...

According to the Forward, Michelle Obama's cousin is one of Chicago's prominent black rabbis!!

I'm not sure if this will help Obama politically, but I, for one, am kvelling.

(Hopefully it will undo whatever damage Joe Lieberman is doing with the Miami shuffleboard set. But, frankly, that's highly unlikely. The black Hebrews -- of whom I've met many over the years in my travels -- are pretty disconnected from the wider Jewish world. And in most cases, that's by mutual consent. But one can hope!)