Authors: Wayne Hoffman
Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #General, #Jewish Men, #Male Friendship, #Rabbis, #Jewish, #Religion, #Jewish Gay Men, #Judaism
Sweet Like Sugar (34 page)
It still hangs there today.
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The rabbi explained the apple tree the last time I saw him, four days before he died.
It was the middle of Passover and I'd stopped by with a box of kosher-for-Passover chocolates.
Irene had cleaned the house for the holiday. The piles of books that had cluttered the dining room table had been reshelved. The rugs had been shampooed. A clutch of orange tulips adorned the coffee table. Spring had arrived and the windows in the living room were open.
Irene was in the kitchen, beating eggs for a sponge cake.
“I can't seem to find my glasses,” the rabbi said, checking the end table next to the sofa. “I left them right here.”
I got up and asked Irene. “I must have put them upstairs when I was cleaning,” she said. “They're probably in his study.”
I ran upstairs and into his studyâwhich at the time was also serving as Irene's room. But every day, she folded up her bed and turned it back into his study, so as not to disturb him. And months after arriving, she continued to live out of her suitcase, as if she might need to leave at a moment's notice. There was hardly any evidence that she'd been living there.
As I left the study, the needlepoints outside the bathroom caught my eye. The apple tree and the flowers. I assumed that Sophie had made them, but I didn't understand what they represented, and I couldn't read the Hebrew on the bottom of each picture.
I came downstairs and asked the rabbi.
“Those are from the Song of Songs,” he said. “Some of the most romantic poetry ever written.”
“In the Bible?” I asked.
“Wait, I'll show you.”
He stood up and went to his bookshelves, taking a copy of the Bible and flipping toward the back.
He read to me, in Hebrew, and then he translated: “Like a lily among the thorns, so is my beloved among women. Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among men.”
“It
is
romantic,” I said.
is
romantic,” I said.
“I told you, the Bible is more than rules and regulations,” he said. “It is also about love.”
I wanted to tell him about my love, my romance, the man I had finally found. But how to approach the subject? We had avoided getting too specific in our discussions about gay life up to this point, but I thought he was ready to hear about Jamie, if only I could back into the discussion somehow.
We sat back down in our usual places and I figured out how to tell him about Jamie. I'd start with something he could relate to.
“How was your seder?” I asked.
“Very nice,” he said. “Just Irene and me. She made a delicious meal. Last year, you know, I was all alone for Passover. Some people from the shul invited me to their seder. But it wasn't the same. This year, I have a home of my own again. Thanks to Irene.”
He was looking into the kitchen, where Irene was mixing batter. Then he snapped back to reality and asked me how my seder had been.
“Wonderful,” I said.
“Why wonderful?”
“For the first time, I brought someone to the seder with me,” I said. “A man I've been seeing.”
He was silent, realizing he'd been tricked into talking about men who loved men, rather than something he'd be more comfortable discussingâlike slavery in Egypt or wandering for forty years in the desert.
“His name is Jamie and he's a flight attendant.”
He bit into one of the Passover chocolates.
“I've told him all about you and he really wants to meet you.”
Was this too much? Was I going too far?
“Why?” he asked.
“It's funny,” I said, thinking I shouldn't have started this conversation, but realizing it was too late to stop now. “I never would have met him if it wasn't for you.”
The rabbi cocked his head. “I don't understand,” he said, probably stunned that he might have unwittingly played homosexual matchmaker.
“Well, we met on the plane to Miami over Thanksgiving, when I went to stay in your condo. He was working on that flight. If you hadn't given me that birthday present, I never would have met him. So, in a way, you're the reason that we're together.”
The rabbi took a deep breath and took off his glasses. He sat back on the couch and tried to absorb what I'd told him. I wasn't sure what was coming next: Would he ask more questions or change the subject? Tell me to bring Jamie over or tell me, once again, to get out?
After a moment, he leaned forward, furrowed his brow, and looked me square in the eye.
“Tell me, Benji,” he said. “This flight attendant. He is Jewish?”
Please turn the page for a special Q&A with Wayne Hoffman!
How did this story come to you?
One day several years ago, when I was working as managing editor at the
Forward,
an English-language Jewish newspaper, an editor from the
Forverts
âour sister newspaper, published in Yiddish, with whom we shared a newsroomâcame in and asked if one of his employees could rest on my couch. I didn't know this employee, didn't know his name, and didn't even know if he spoke English. But he was very ill and clearly needed to lie down and my office had the only couch in the newsroom, so I said yes. I looked over at this bearded, observant man, who was probably eighty years old, in poor health, as he slept. And I wondered who this man was, what the two of us could possibly have in common, how a conversation might go between us. And that turned into the opening scene of
Sweet Like Sugar
. I've spent many years thinking about being gay and being Jewish, and how those two identities intersect or complement each other or come into conflict, so it was only natural that as I continued thinking about what a conversation with this man on my couch might sound like, these are the subjects that became the core of the story.
Forward,
an English-language Jewish newspaper, an editor from the
Forverts
âour sister newspaper, published in Yiddish, with whom we shared a newsroomâcame in and asked if one of his employees could rest on my couch. I didn't know this employee, didn't know his name, and didn't even know if he spoke English. But he was very ill and clearly needed to lie down and my office had the only couch in the newsroom, so I said yes. I looked over at this bearded, observant man, who was probably eighty years old, in poor health, as he slept. And I wondered who this man was, what the two of us could possibly have in common, how a conversation might go between us. And that turned into the opening scene of
Sweet Like Sugar
. I've spent many years thinking about being gay and being Jewish, and how those two identities intersect or complement each other or come into conflict, so it was only natural that as I continued thinking about what a conversation with this man on my couch might sound like, these are the subjects that became the core of the story.
Is this story based on true events?
Although there are elements in the story that are based on things that happened to me, or to people I know, the story is fiction. However, the larger issues that underpin the storyâhow people are brought together by fate, how religion unites and divides us, how communities can welcome or exclude people, how personal connections can help us get past our deep-seated prejudicesâare true in a broad sense, if not a particularly personal one.
Are the characters based on real people?
The only character who's based specifically on a real person is Irene; I named her after my great-aunt, who died shortly after I finished writing the book. Aunt Irene had a keen sense for cutting through the bull and getting to what was really important and she had a strong belief in fate and forces beyond our control. She was never in the situations that I describe in this book, but when I was writing Irene's scenes, I had my great-aunt in mind the whole time, trying to figure out how she'd react if she were in her namesake's place. There's also a tiny piece of my maternal grandfather in Benji's grandfather: He died when I was six years old, so, like Benji, I only remember him from my early childhood. In fact, like Benji, one of my strongest memories of my grandfather was of him leading a Passover seder while my grandmother nagged him from across the table. Most of the other characters are not based on specific individuals. My own parents are much more fun to be around than Benji's, I am much closer to my sister than Benji is to his, and unlike Benji, I have a brotherâwho, ironically enough, is a Conservative rabbi, one far more broad-minded than this book's Rabbi Adler. I don't have a roommate like Michelle, but I do have women in my life who have played similar roles; that's true for lots of gay men.
Much of the book takes place in suburban Washington, D.C. How do you know this area?
Even though I've spent most of my adult life in New York City, I know this area firsthand. I grew up in Silver Spring, Maryland, very close to where the book is setâthat's where I went to Hebrew school, attended synagogue, learned Israeli dance, worked at the JCC, and spent summers at a Jewish camp. My parents still live there, so I visit frequently. I am well acquainted with how the Jewish community operates there and how the gay community does, too. Parts of the book are set decades ago in Jersey City, which is where my mother grew up in an Orthodox household, so I know that area during that period, as well, secondhand.
Has your spiritual journey been different from Benji's?
I grew up Conservative, like Benji. And I, too, felt alienated from a young age, despite feeling a certain sense of connection to individual parts of that tradition. But I haven't wrestled in the same way; I found a place in the Jewish community where I feel comfortable many years ago.
A READING GROUP GUIDE
SWEET LIKE SUGAR
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Wayne Hoffman
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ABOUT THIS GUIDE
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The suggested questions are included
to enhance your group's reading
of Wayne Hoffman's
Sweet Like Sugar
.
to enhance your group's reading
of Wayne Hoffman's
Sweet Like Sugar
.
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DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1.
Even though Benji feels alienated from his Jewishness, Jewish holidays play a large part in his story: His memories of Passover appear in the first and last chapters, and in the middle, he goes to synagogue for Rosh Hashanah, attends a Hanukkah party, bakes hamantashen for Purim, and flashes back to Shabbat services from his childhood. What role do holidays play in maintaining Jewish identityâeven for people who feel disconnected from traditional Judaism?
Even though Benji feels alienated from his Jewishness, Jewish holidays play a large part in his story: His memories of Passover appear in the first and last chapters, and in the middle, he goes to synagogue for Rosh Hashanah, attends a Hanukkah party, bakes hamantashen for Purim, and flashes back to Shabbat services from his childhood. What role do holidays play in maintaining Jewish identityâeven for people who feel disconnected from traditional Judaism?
2.
How much of the story is unique to Jews? Could a similar story play out with non-Jewish characters? How might it be different?
How much of the story is unique to Jews? Could a similar story play out with non-Jewish characters? How might it be different?
3.
As Rabbi Zuckerman and Benji get to know each other, there are several opportunities for Benji to tell the rabbi that he is gay or for the rabbi to ask. Why doesn't it happen sooner? Do you think it was a mistake for Benji to bring it up how and when he did? Did the rabbi react inappropriately? How might both men have handled it differently?
As Rabbi Zuckerman and Benji get to know each other, there are several opportunities for Benji to tell the rabbi that he is gay or for the rabbi to ask. Why doesn't it happen sooner? Do you think it was a mistake for Benji to bring it up how and when he did? Did the rabbi react inappropriately? How might both men have handled it differently?
4.
Irene implies that the rabbi sent Benji to Florida to meet herâthat their meeting was not an accident or even something the rabbi feared. Do you agree? Why might the rabbi have wanted Benji and Irene to meet?
Irene implies that the rabbi sent Benji to Florida to meet herâthat their meeting was not an accident or even something the rabbi feared. Do you agree? Why might the rabbi have wanted Benji and Irene to meet?
5.
If Irene hadn't played intermediary, do you think Benji and the rabbi could ever have repaired their relationship? If Benji hadn't intervened, do you think the rabbi and Irene would ever have reconnected?
If Irene hadn't played intermediary, do you think Benji and the rabbi could ever have repaired their relationship? If Benji hadn't intervened, do you think the rabbi and Irene would ever have reconnected?
6.
From what you know about Sophie, how do you think she would have reacted to the rabbi's relationship with Benji? How would she have reacted to finding out that Benji is gay?
From what you know about Sophie, how do you think she would have reacted to the rabbi's relationship with Benji? How would she have reacted to finding out that Benji is gay?
7.
Rabbi Zuckerman tries to teach Benji about Judaism, while Benji tries to educate the rabbi about gay life. Who has the harder job? The rabbi, who must overcome Benji's negative experiences from the past if he is to succeed where others have tried and failed? Or Benji, who is likely the first person to speak to the rabbi about the realities of gay life from a personal, rather than religious, perspective?
Rabbi Zuckerman tries to teach Benji about Judaism, while Benji tries to educate the rabbi about gay life. Who has the harder job? The rabbi, who must overcome Benji's negative experiences from the past if he is to succeed where others have tried and failed? Or Benji, who is likely the first person to speak to the rabbi about the realities of gay life from a personal, rather than religious, perspective?
8.
Do you believe that people are destined to be together? Does that only apply to romantic couples, or to other kinds of relationships, too? Is it possible for one person to have more than one
bashert?
Do you believe that people are destined to be together? Does that only apply to romantic couples, or to other kinds of relationships, too? Is it possible for one person to have more than one
bashert?
9.
Some of the closest relationships in the book defy simple categorization and familial labels: Irene and Rabbi Zuckerman, Benji and Michelle, Benji and the rabbi. How do the characters in the book build their chosen families and how do they try to ensure that they endure?
Some of the closest relationships in the book defy simple categorization and familial labels: Irene and Rabbi Zuckerman, Benji and Michelle, Benji and the rabbi. How do the characters in the book build their chosen families and how do they try to ensure that they endure?
10.
Fast-forward a few years from the end of the novel. Where do you think the characters are? Are Benji and Jamie still together and still studying? Are they still in touch with Irene? Do Benji and Michelle still see each other often? How has Benji's family changed?
Fast-forward a few years from the end of the novel. Where do you think the characters are? Are Benji and Jamie still together and still studying? Are they still in touch with Irene? Do Benji and Michelle still see each other often? How has Benji's family changed?
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Â
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
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Copyright © 2011 by Wayne Hoffman
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Â
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-7438-0
ISBN-10: 0-7582-6562-X
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First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: September 2011
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