I have always been inspired by the power of words and books, and their ability to share stories that move us, shape us, and connect us across time and place. As we head into the final days of summer and at a time marked by injustice and upheaval, both in the United States and around the world, I want to share a few books that have been an inspiration, a thought-provoking exercise, and good reads. These titles take us around the globe, from a shtetl in Poland to a dining room in Burma, offering stories that make us smile, feel deeply, and teach us important lessons along the way. At this complex and challenging time for so many around the world, I am especially moved to be in community with you in this way.
My first recommendation is a classic by Kathrine Kressmann Taylor. First published in 1938, Address Unknown is a slim novella that unfolds entirely through letters exchanged between two old friends—Martin, a German, and Max, a Jewish American—in the early years of Nazi Germany. In fewer than 60 pages, Taylor manages to capture the rise of fascism, the fragility of friendship, and the terrifying speed at which hate can take hold.
At first, the letters exchanged between the friends are warm, intimate even. Martin, who has just returned to Germany, and Max, who still lives in San Francisco, write to each other with genuine affection. Their bond seems unshakable. But over the span of a year and a half, the tone of the letters changes drastically. As we read along, Martin starts echoing Nazi rhetoric and we see a subtle but unmistakable shift in his writings. For instance, he writes Max that he loved him “in spite of” his Jewishness. By the end of Address Unknown, the author has painted a picture of how easily ideology can poison the closest of relationships.
Though it was written almost a century ago, the themes of this novella still resonate today. They are a cautionary tale and a reminder of the insidiousness of fear, propaganda and hate. It is well worth a read.
By now, CNN host Fareed Zakaria has become a household name. His latest book, Age of Revolutions: Progress and Backlash From 1600 to the Present is a sweeping look at the rise of liberal democracy – and why it now seems precarious. He argues that the last 400 years have been marked by cycles of revolutionary change which he defines as “a comprehensive social, economic, and political transformation.” He also notes that with every wave of progress, there is backlash.
The first part of the book is largely focused on Britain, the United States, France and the Netherlands. Along the way, Zakaria spotlights key “revolutions” that fundamentally reshaped society, lauding the emancipation of women as democracy’s finest moment.
The second part pivots into contemporary analysis, looking at what he calls “present revolutions,” notably rapid changes in technology, surging migration, and the global decline of faith in liberalism. He suggests that the rise of populist movements is due to anxieties caused by modern life such as disrupted communities, loss of tradition, and an overload of information (and misinformation). Ultimately Zakaria presents us with a complex paradox. Democracies must reform both gradually and urgently. If we move too radically, we cause more backlash than progress, yet if we move too slowly, we risk collapse. This was an insightful read, one that I know the political history lovers among us will enjoy.
My next must-read is the latest novel by Alan Hollinghurst. At the center of Our Evenings is the protagonist Dave Win, a gay, half-Burmese actor reflecting on the many fragments of his life, spanning from his schooldays in the 1960s to the early years of the pandemic. Through Dave’s eyes, we get a first-person perspective on racial objectification and the limits of liberal tolerance.
We follow Dave through his school days through his awakening as a gay man to his years spent as an actor and beyond. His closeness with his mother Avril, a single mother and dressmaker who finds love with a client named Esme, is heartwarming. But we are ever reminded of the cruelty of racism as time and again Dave is reminded that he is “different.”
The ending is jarring – and I won’t ruin it for you. But suffice to say that Hollinghurst leaves us with a powerful reminder of what it means to live in a world still shaped by prejudice.
My next recommendation is an inventive novel written by long-time friend of AJWS, Howard Langer. The Last Dekrepitzer tells the story of a Hasidic rebbe named Shmuel Meir Lichtbencher who survives the Holocaust, winds up in the Jim Crow South, and reinvents himself as a blues musician.
It starts in a Polish shtetl, where Shmuel is being trained to lead his sect, which is known for its unique style of violin playing. But the Holocaust looms and he is drafted into the Russian army. He later lands in Italy where Black American soldiers smuggle him to the United States.
Disguised in an army uniform, Shmuel makes his way to Mississippi, where he’s drawn to the Black community’s music and faith. He joins a blues band, falls in love with a Black woman named Lula (who eventually converts to Judaism) and embarks on a new life straddling the rich musical traditions Hasidic melodies and Black gospel and blues. A wonderful read, The Last Dekrepitzer deftly explores themes of race, exile, and faith. I highly recommend this charming novel.
Rounding out my list is an interesting find that sits on my own must-read list. On the surface, The Last Sweet Bite by Michael Shaikh is about food. After all, it is filled with recipes, talk of spices, and memories shared around the table. But very quickly, we come to realize that it offers us something more powerful: a deeply personal account of how violence reshapes not just nations or identities, but what people eat, how they cook — even how people remember who they are. Shaikh takes us from war zones to refugee camps, tracing the hidden connections between conflict and cuisine.
Whether he’s sitting with a Rohingya family over a simple plate of lentils and rice or exploring the post-colonial scars in the kitchens of New Mexico’s Pueblo communities, each story is rooted in lived experience. He writes about people who’ve had everything taken from them—land, language, culture—yet still fight to preserve a beloved dish.
Shaikh argues that preserving a recipe is not just nostalgic; it’s an act of resistance. It’s a way to say, “We are still here!” And in today’s global climate—where humanitarian aid is shrinking and authoritarianism is rising—this message feels both powerful and urgent.
Thank you for reading my final summer reading list as AJWS’s President and CEO before I step down at the end of the year. I admit to this moment being bittersweet. It has been a joy to share my reading recommendations with you over the years and to receive so many recommendations back from you. Your recommendations have enriched my life, and you have no doubt seen some of them show up on my lists. Rest assured, I have appreciated all of them and they are on my long reading list.
I want to close with a quote from author Ursula K. Le Guin who said, “we read books to find out who we are.” Thank you for joining me in this lifelong journey of growth through reading and for using books as one way to shape your ongoing commitment to building a better world together with all of us at AJWS.