When I first saw Carole King’s new Christmas album I realized (with some guilt in my heart) that I had to buy it. It was nice, sweet, and simple. This was a real Christmas album, not completely abrasive like Bob Dylan’s Christmas album. But it wasn’t horribly fake like Barbra Streisand’s (titled “Christmas Memories” – what memories? The nerve of that woman.) The difference is really between King’s style and Dylan and Streisand’s but is it not also between upbringings? There’s always a difference between when a Jew does Christmas music and when the goyim do Christmas music.

But we all love it so much!  The Christmas spirit is infectious and spreads through Jewish hearts like it would anyone’s. Jesus, aside, it’s a fairly agreeable holiday. Presents, chestnuts, stockings, mint vodka, what’s not to like? When we Jews get our chance to play Christmas, we do it well because it taps into a feeling deeper than the desire to assimilate. It appeals to our desire to spread love – and have fun.

After listening to “Carole” I was pleasantly surprised by the track titled “Chanukah Prayer,” which is simply the Chanukah prayer put to song. It was soft and lovely (with children singing in the background), yet not corny. King even managed her “ch’s” well. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she were a Jew.

Track 8 on King’s album is the famous Irving Berlin song “I’ve Got my Love to Keep me Warm.” Berlin was the son of a cantor and wrote some of Broadway’s most beloved musicals including “Annie Get your Gun” starring Ethel Merman and The Marx Brothers musical, “The Coconuts.” When he married Ellin Mackay, he was introduced to Catholic traditions and became versed in Christmas spirit, thus spawning the movie “White Christmas” directed by  Michael Curtiz (“Casablanca”) and starring Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney and Danny Kaye. This well-loved, landmark musical movie was written by a Jew.

See what I mean? Don’t feel guilty, blast the Christmas radio. It’s all about spreading joy, Jew or goy.

On Saturday I went on a holy pilgrimage to New York Comic-Con – the ultimate East Coast nerd gathering. Comic-Con is a convention where comic book publishers, video game companies, anime and manga makers, and local collectible stores gather to sell colorful character themed crap to people paying at least $45 for admission. It is also a chance for geeks, nerds, and fans to gather and exchange in conversation over who would win in a battle – Spiderman or Batman (the answer is Batman).

Stan Lee at Phoenix Comicon | Photo by Flickr user Gage Skidmore (CC BY-SA 2.0)

It is now widely recognized that a great many superhero characters were created by Jews. While I definitely did not see as many hasidim at Comic-Con as I do at The New York Auto Show (and always around the Mercedes-Benzs) there were Jews there honoring their comic-book mishbucha. Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, Captain America, The Fantastic Four, The Spirit, and the X-Men were all created by Jews.  Stan Lee created at least half of the most awesome comic book characters ever (Spider-Man, Captain America, The Fantastic Four, and The X-Men from the aforelisted) but none of them actually practice Judaism. Shame, because I’d like to see them all in shul; Batman with his utility tallas sitting next to Superman with a yamulke over his spit curl.

One issue in the nature of  super hero characters is that they tend to not have discerning characteristics aside from their powers. Some are black, some are women, very few are gay or lesbian. Even fewer believe in anything but Christmas and catching bad guys.  This isn’t a bad thing; in fact, it’s the reason why so many people like comic books. They’re easy to read and fairly non-controversial but at the same time they can make you think. There’s also a play between readers feeling like they “own” a certain character (New Yorkers and Spider-Man) and the universality of the character.

Let’s say Superman was really The Mensch, an almighty alien man sent to Earth from the planet Ferklempt-on.  Would anyone want to read that? Could anyone beside a Jew relate to the character?

By creating these superheroes, Stan Lee, Will Eisner and their peers created lovable characters that can do anything, including save the world countless times and improve the lives of millions daily. These characters are examples for how humanity could be. They exercise what the Torah teaches us about treating other people and being good citizens. These characters are not Jewish but in a way, they’re Jew-ish.

Geoff Edelstein grew up in the cozy Connecticut hills where people thought that brisket was the name of his dog. Periodically his parents would bring them to New York City, where they grew up. There he learned of the wonders of Judaism. Back then, he was a big Jew in a small pond. Now, he’s a little Jew in a big pond. By day he is an English major, by night he is the Managing Editor of The Acorn, Drew University’s student newspaper. Nevertheless, people still think he has a dog named Brisket.  His column, Seriously Stereotyped, appears here on alternating Mondays.

The back cover of Joshua Cohen’s novel Witz is enticing, but misleading. It depicts an alternate history where all the Jews in the world die at the start of the 21st century, resulting in a Judaism pop-culture craze as the goyim try to preserve, imitate and commercialize Jewish culture.  I read this synopsis and thought “either this kid’s a self-hating Jew or he’s got a damn good plot.” Witz seemed like a great Hannukkah present for myself in 2010.

Upon opening it, however, I was faced with some of the most challenging rhetoric I had ever seen (this was before I read Ulysses by James Joyce).  Witz is 817 pages of poetic prose that requires the reader to slowly unpack sentence after sentence at a rate of about two pages per sitting. At least it’s in English, unlike Finnegan’s Wake.

I muscled my way through all 817 pages, and understood almost none of it. This happens to me all the time: I read a novel when I’m too young or not thoughtful enough to understand. Upon returning, I can usually get a better idea of the book. Salaman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children was the same way: a tough read for a high school freshman, a rich one for a college freshman.

So I decided to give Witz a second try. As an English major and Jewish Studies minor I think I’m better prepared now for whatever Cohen can throw at me. After my resounding defeat in the first round, hopefully round two will be mine.

I’ll start by setting up some goals for this reading. First of all, I’d like to actually know what is happening from scene to scene. Even the most abstract of poetic texts have a basic plot, and Witz must have a big one to fill 817 pages. Second, I’d like to have some sort of idea about why Cohen chose to write his novel in this very distinctive style. Third, I’d like to be able to explain how to read Witz to other people.  I wan it to be more than an 817 page paper weight.

In the time it takes me to complete Witz again, I’d also like to find more of Cohen’s other work (my principal challenge will be figuring out which of the published Joshua Cohens is the right one). To wrap everything up, I plan to send Joshua Cohen a letter about my experience reading Witz and what I thought of it.

This could take a while, so bear with me.  In the meantime, I would greatly appreciate any input that might help me with my reading.

Geoff Edelstein grew up in the cozy Connecticut hills where people thought that brisket was the name of his dog. Periodically his parents would bring them to New York City, where they grew up. There he learned of the wonders of Judaism. Back then, he was a big Jew in a small pond. Now, he’s a little Jew in a big pond. By day he is an English major, by night he is the Managing Editor of The Acorn, Drew University’s student newspaper. Nevertheless, people still think he has a dog named Brisket.  His column, Seriously Stereotyped, appears here on alternating Mondays.