Long Reads

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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