In Love With Sarah Silverman Word from: Mordy

It may just be that we all love the idea of a dirty-mouthed Jewess Comedian, but it seems that Sarah Silverman fever has been running high recently. Here are some highlights of the dozens of articles that spotlight her.

Rollingstone takes the Freudian approach, trying to explain her current life in light of her family. (Speaking of Rollingstone, did anyone read the Madonna article? Kaballah must be good for the skin, because she looks amazing.)

Newyorker seemed to feel she deserved a profile, and did their regular excellent literati job of writing about her. Very evocative.

Radar interviews her, even if by the time you reach this article, reading about Silverman has lost some of its luster. (In other news, Radar interviews David Cross, that other hip funny Jew. About life after Arrested Development. This is bad news, by the way. AD was the greatest show ever. Ever.)

And of course, finally, where would a Silverman collection be without HEEB's article and photo shoot?

Personally? Her role in Rent seemed out of place, but Rent was amazing, so no complaining. And I haven't seen Jesus is Magic yet, but I've only heard good things about it.

Family Jests, Bathroom Poetics, & the Upcoming Gigs Word from: Jake

Happy Thanksgiving to the whole extended Mima'amakim family! History books commemorate the momentous occasion when our ancestors, having arrived to the new blessed land of America, sat down to a feast, which consisted of stale kasha knishes and fried onions. We, n-generation bourgeois, may have displaced the menu & the ancestry, but the spirit of the piligrimous neurosis, good appetite, and everybody-talking-at-the-same hopefully has not changed much since the Lower East side days. I'm obviously generalizing and jesting, but only in lieu of the excuse for the following anecdote, which I would have loved to tell to many of you in person - I really miss so many you! Damn the distances and terms papers.

So, CompLit and Creative Writing departments at NYU are right next to each other. A few weeks back, I walked into the floor's restroom, and who do I see? Philip Levine! (He's nothing short of a patriachal figure in the post-Beatnik modern American poetry; Pulitzer Prize, National Book Award, etc.etc.) I couldn't help exlaiming: "Oh my god, this is Philip Levine!" He turns around and says, "Yes, Philip Levine takes shits." The other day I saw him again, and all I could think about was "Philip Levine takes ..."

Speaking of New York literati, if you'd like to go see On Being (and Not Being) a Jewish-American Writer at 92nd Street Y on Dec 6th, the discount code to get in half-price is BR1. Next week on Nov 30th, my favorite Pharaohs Daughter is playing at Mo Pitkin's, a promising new joint on Ave A. Lastly, Vanessa "Hebrew Mamita" Hidary, who's appeared at our Telos vs. Tahlis, came out with a CD, and made film appearances; she's celebrating on Dec 3rd and Dec 9th.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

The Fifth Dimention and Beyond Word from: Alieza

I've noticed a 5th dimension of verbal communication: Pronunciation. (The others might be: words, sentences, intonation/tone of voice, facial and body language- though each of these deserve a post -or a book- of their own and we should debate my hasty categories).

My Israeli born Ram (Talmud Teacher) has perfect Israeli Hebrew. But he selectively chooses to articulate certain words as a Yiddish speaker would. He doesn't uniformly mispronounce these words, but only in certain contexts.

Chachamim, (Rabbis or wise men literally) become Chachomim, with a long o, when the Talmudic sages are neurotically worrying about the details of rituals. Another example: Issur Olam (a object that is forbidden forever) became Isser Oylam, as the Gemarah builds walls distancing people from taboos such as idol worship and pig. With his purposeful pronunciations, he evokes the fastidious frum community with love and irony, as he himself comes from a pretty Charedi background.

Sometimes I have the urge to say: Ium frum Neew Youk - though I'm not from Brooklyn. It gets across something otherwise un-captured in words.

Any one have any observations too add?

Dina Elenbogen Word from: Jake

It became a fine tradition among the mima'amakim staff to get together and moan about the state of the contemporary Jewish Art. It's scant and superficial, not digging anywhere past the beaten themes of Holocaust, Israel-Palestinian conflict, neurotic personalities and imposing mothers - you know the shpil. Hence, it's always a joy when a new exciting artist surfaces on our horizons. Dina Elenbogen's new book, Apples of the Earth has recently been published by Spuyten Duyvil.

Apples of the Earth is a literal translation of Hebrew tapuchei adama (potatoes), something very simple and at the same time, somehow enthused merely through its linguistic image. Someone used to hearing "potatoes" will inevitably be charmed by the "apples of the earth;" and to me, in many ways, that is what Dina's poetry is about: translating the real, simple Israel into American-speak in the most inviting, magnetizing fashion. Take a look at this poem of hers, originally published in the esteemed Prairie Schooner.

JABOTINSKY STREET

for Robert Friend

For the man who nurses
twelve cats, one without claws,
one voiceless, one with tunnel vision,
I bring pomegranates from the market
on Ben Yehuda Street.
Last month they were ripe on the tree
in front of my lover's house.

I bring him these fruits for tomorrow
when I will already be on my way
to another country.
Each seed is a blessing.
I try to believe each seed
is another year of his life.

His Arab housekeeper serves us fish soup.
Bread is constantly popping from the toaster.
We critique the flavor of seasoning,
compare it with last month's stew,
last month, when my skin wasn't so brown
when the wine didn't spin my head so,
when I wasn't so close to the border.

Between the soup and sherbet
we critique my poems, his jewels.
He has taken in another cat this month,
without a tail, with a loud cry,
as I have taken in a new lover,
a Moroccan without manners.

We finish the game of solitaire
he began before I arrived. He keeps
turning up the ace of spades,
the card of death, says it always falls
from his neighbor's balcony, lands on his lawn,
something he stumbles past
on his way to collect the mail.

The oldest cat lands on the bookshelf.
His limbs heal in this room
where Martin Buber once stored
his books, where my friend collects
the words of three generations, writes
the words of two countries,
and gives me black tea.
I gather the fallen pomegranate seeds
plant them in a pot outside his window and pray
things will not stop blooming.

Rent In Two Weeks! Word from: Mordy

Two weeks till Rent and I've already listened to the new movie soundtrack for any details different from the original. Mimi has a lot more chemistry with Roger than in the original, and the new Joanne has a set of pipes on her.

And then there is the slight religious additions. We always knew Mark Cohen was Jewish. (Cohen, duh.) Especially from the line in La Vie Boheme where "Mark Cohen will screen his documentary about his inability to hold an erection over the high holidays." Ala Portnoy, though we imagine he didn't have such tzoros. But now, there is a new addition. We find out where he learns to dance the Tango in the Tango Maureen (his ex-shiksa girlfriend, of course), from a Rabbi's Daughter! That's right. Nenit Himmelfarb, whose father was the Rabbi of the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center.

Oh. And did I mention Sarah Silverman, HEEB's favorite pinup girl, plays the part of Alexi Darling? From Buzzline?

(P.S. This is Mimaamakim's 100th Blog Post. Congratulations Everyone!)

Identity Frame-Up Word from: Jake

I haven't been to New York's Jewish Museum since the Jewish Women's Salons exhibit, and haven't had a blast there since Modigliani. Who's got the time for museums with final papers coming up? But, I received a book a from YUP with essays, interviews and photography about their current collaboration called The Jewish Identity Project.

The project brings together a sizable group of photographers, working with definitions of contemporary American Jewery. I'm going to say the obvious: to define a group is to outline it's borders; mainstream is contained somewhere between these borders. What are the margins of the community today? In this exhibit, the subject of race is perhaps the most prominent: lots of Jews of all races. Some superb photos of Commandment Keepers' Congregation in Harlem. Conversion, too resurfaces in a number of works: there's the bleary black-and-white photo story of "Carmen" who enters the hard-core Orthodox community a-la Boro Park. Both very eerie and emotionally stirring. Not surprisingly, a good number of photos showing peyos'd children with tzitzis sticking out of their shorts. That's classic: what a great exotic attraction, religious Jews! (Though, I must admit, I, too once had a similar urge to photograph every little mundane move and gesture of inhabitants of Tzfat.) One photographer deals specifically with stereotypes, baking them, exaggerating to the point of grotesque.

There's some kitch, but on the whole, lots of strong, interesting material. One thing I wondered about, why there was no work dealing with rare (marginal) professions of American Jews - sailors, carpenters, concept artists, philosophers? And, in general, why does the identity definition need to be so outter, so visual? That, in itself is already a statement about identity, no?

Romance Reader (I'm not) Word from: Jake

I have to preface this by saying that my school's library was having its annual sale, each book for $1, so I couldn't say no. I guess I'm making excuses because the title doesn't sound like anything I'd want to admit to reading.

Pearl Abraham's Romance Reader came out a decade ago. If I read it back then, I would have loved it. At this point, I've heard everything I ever wanted to hear about the "rebels" of the Chassidic community. However, the book also happens to be a coming-of-age novel, and it was specifically the combination of the two that redeemed the subject matter for me.

What I liked best, were the short deceivingly-simple punchy sentences. Up Hemingway's alley. They give the main character (rebellious Chassidish girl with a thing for romance novels) a distinct voice that I thought was very appealing. Totally realistic, heimish, prematurely mature (as the oldest sister of six), very down-to-earth. After the first thirty pages, I started yawning and massively skipping, stopping over occasionally for dialog and one or two erotic scenes. Still and all, on the whole I'm definitely happy to add it to my book collection. It was a bargain you know.

I remember hearing about The Seventh Beggar a few months ago. That's Abraham's new novel, and as far as reviews go, it sounds good. Contemporary Chassidic dilemmas in the frame-work of Rav Nachman's tale. Has anyone read it?