Eight Very Bad Nights: A Collection of Hanukkah Noir
“Unlike your cousin’s famous and always mushy kugel recipe, this book’s tasty enough to keep reheating—that is, re-reading.”
Considering all the dark tales of hard times, gangsters, and black humor of the past, the time was ripe for Gangsterland author Tod Goldberg to gather together a hard-boiled crew for this collection. He’s even added a tale of his own, making a total of not eight. but eleven packed into this chunky (and definitely giftable) hardcover (yes, and ebook).
It would be symbolic and interesting to pace the reading at one story per night of Hanukkah, but just like the way a stereotypical Jewish cook always prepares too much and makes you take some home with you, Goldberg packed in plenty. As he admits in his entertaining foreword, “Eight nights is simply too long to celebrate anything . . . Eventually , even the people you love most are going to make you want to kill somebody. And if you happen to be celebrating Hanukkah at work? Oh, there will be blood.”
There will also be stories that knock your socks off. Opening with “Johnny Christmas,” Ivy Pochoda provides a Gulf War veteran with some bad ink. He’s back in Brooklyn, renewing acquaintance with the Brooklyn House of Detention, and the name he’s got of an old lover, “forever” on his skin, has become a handicap. Getting fresh ink laid over it should be routine, right? Not once he meets the tattoo artist, Johnny Christmas, and realizes he’s known the guy under a much more Jewish moniker. And it’s got something to do with the ink, too. But it’s not until the last bruising paragraph that all the pain shakes out into something remarkable. Hmm, is there some connection to the miracle that Hanukkah celebrates?
Hold that thought and bookmark the question. “Shamash” by David L. Ulin will add a candle to the display. So will “Twenty Centuries” from James D. F. Hannah. Lee Goldberg’s story “If I Were a Rich Man” leads past the earworm of Tevya chanting in his village, to a performance as a Jewish retiree visiting a nursing home on a treasure hunt of sorts.
Nikki Dolson spins out “Come Let Us Kiss and Part” and J. R. Angelella tackles “Mi Shebeirach”— as your Bubbe might say, who’d have thought with such a name, he could also speak Jewish? The first lines of dialogue between Molly Blaze and Gershom Fox, an Orthodox Jew with a briefcase handcuffed to him, set up a truly bizarre crime story that takes no prisoners, as Molly demands “Give me the f-ing briefcase and Gershom’s reply is “Fait makes miracles possible.” As Molly knows, all the people watching her figure she’s “in the full commission of a hate crime, stepping on the neck of an old Orthodox Jew, even if she was just doing her job.”
There’s the delicious heart of this deli-special collection: For all the dark menace of the hard-boiled stories in it, the mustard and pickle taste like surprises and salty humor.
Though you may still want to try to make the book last all eight nights, that probably won’t work out once you see there’s also a story from Gabino Iglesias, “Lighting the Remora” (not a typo!). Which may mean that by the time you tuck this into a pocket or handbag for secret bathroom reading as a break from the family gatherings this year, you’re going to be parsing these puddings for a second time. Fortunately, unlike your cousin’s famous and always mushy kugel recipe, this book’s tasty enough to keep reheating—that is, re-reading.