Long Reads

Love In A Red Box: The Unexpected Heartbreak Of My Friends-With-Benefits Fling

Long Reads is a bimonthly feature, showcasing long-form essays. 

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Much of the food we ate ran along these lines: not unrecognizable to the average American, but not at all the same.

Eating Lunch In Palestine 

I was an American Jew in Palestine. I wondered if I had made a mistake in coming here, in leaving the relative safety of my hotel in Jerusalem, or the even greater comfort of my Seattle home, where my husband and six-month-old waited for me. But the most dangerous thing about eating lunch in Palestine was that I might have exploded from eating too much.

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Addicted To Nostalgia: Vintage Estate Sales, My Mother, And Me

From a distance, a vintage girl can seem charming and lovably odd until you realize that she literally comes with a ton of baggage.

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Did my mom feel alone, as if she were blamed for what happened to her? Like nobody could understand what she was dealing with?

After My Mom Died, Drinking Made Me Feel Closer To Her

When my mom died, I made a list of things that made me similar to her: My favorite color was purple, I liked to write, I loved reading, I adored cats, I didn’t wear makeup, my favorite soda was Pepsi, I lived in oversized sweaters. I was 11, so I didn’t add “I love to drink” to the list, but it crosses my mind now whenever I’m at a bar with friends, and I decide to order a cocktail.

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"My eating disorder is like a safety blanket."

I'm Scared Of Recovering From My Eating Disorder

It has been part of my life for so long that I have woven it into the fabric of my personality and sense of self.

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When I read, I imagined the characters gathered together in that backyard.

A Magic All My Own

Don’t you all see how fun this is? I wanted to cry out. Instead, I whispered, “Yeah, b-b-books are weird,” and hid Junie B. Jones in my backpack. My classmates treated books the way I sometimes treated Girl Scout girls: with cold, eight-year-old contempt.

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The room smelled like gefilte fish, and it reminded me of the synagogues I studied in for hours on Sabbath afternoons to please my father.

Long Reads: Out Of The Picture 

A man faces his estranged father and the Ultra-Orthodox Jewish community he had left behind years ago.

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