Manhattan publicist Aimee Albert knows a good spin, but she’s the one who winds up reeling when her gorgeous, goyishe boyfriend breaks up with her—on Christmas! For a stand-up comedian, you’d think he would have better timing. But Aimee’s not about to let a man who doesn’t even have a real job get her down. She dusts herself off and decides to seek companionship with a member of her own tribe. There’s just one problem: all the shiksas are snapping them up!
So when the very cute, Jewish, and gainfully employed Josh Hirsch catches Aimee’s eye at a kosher wine tasting and mistakes her for a shiksa, what’s a girl to do? Hey, her heart was broken, not her head! Unfortunately, the charade goes on longer than Aimee planned, and her life becomes more complicated than a Bergman film. To make matters worse, Josh and Aimee aren’t exactly on the same page as far as their attitudes toward Judaism go, creating tension in the relationship. But as Aimee begins to discover that her identity isn’t as easily traded as a pair of Jimmy Choos, she must decide if having the man of her dreams is worth the price of giving up so much of who she is.
Wry and witty, The Shiksa Syndrome is a by turns laugh-out-loud funny and disarmingly poignant.
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|Title of eBook: The Shiksa Syndrome|
|Release Date: 10-07-2008|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Crown Publishing Group|
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|Parent title||The Shiksa Syndrome|
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The Shiksa Syndrome
It would be one thing if I didn't love being Jewish. If I were more like my cousin Marni, who boasts about exchanging Hanukkah gifts on Christmas because she's such a bad Jew. Perhaps I'd understand if I grew up in some small remote town, in the only Jewish family for miles on end, total assimilation the key to survival. But I didn't. Raised on New York's Upper West Side, I never even rebelled. Shiksa wannabee nowhere on my wish list. So standing next to my gorgeous goyishe boyfriend, a la American Gothic, I'm way beyond bah, humbug.
I watch Peter carve the ham as expressionless as the girl in that portrait. Knowing I don't want to be here cohosting this party. Guiltily wanting to leave now and go back to work. Wishing I could just celebrate Christmas the Jewish way, with Chinese food and a movie.
"Hey, everyone," Peter calls out to the room of hungry orphans, half of them tangled up in a game of Twister. Oh. Not what you think. It's an orphan Christmas party, for people who can't make it home. "Listen up. Dinner is served."
"And," I chime in, "after Christmas dinner we're going to play dreidel, dreidel, dreidel and then have latkes and sour cream for dessert."
Baxter, Peter's lovable mutt, barks in approval. But his master only shakes his head. "Aimee Albert."
"What?" Like I don't know.
"It's enough you brought bagels," says Peter, looking at the mixed dozen strategically placed between the green bean casserole, marshmallow sweet potatoes, and his grandmother's pumpkin pie.
"Well, you told me to bring bread." A publicist, I always know a good spin.
"Hey, great party,