The Matzah Ball

By: Jean Meltzer / Narrated By: Dara Rosenberg

Length: 10 hrs and 12 mins

Dude… Hard-Up for Hanukkah here

This is what I do: 5-6 times a year, I Google the beJEZus outta Hanukkah audiobooks and Kwanzaa audiobooks; ya never know cuz publishing is such a twitchy thing that seasonal stories sometimes are released at odd times.

So imagine how imMENsely thrilled I was to hit Audible and find two, count ‘em two! audiobooks for Hanukkah 2021. I eyed them both but then went for The Matzah Ball because I was reeeeally wanting to add some nice ol’ chick-lit to the oh-so few reviews I’ve been able to find and listen to and enjoy and review.

-CLUNK-

Do I: Want My Hours Back? Hmmm, no not exactly, but I suspect that has quite a bit to do with the fact that I’m truly fond of chick-lit and that there’s a dire dearth of available stories for Hanukkah and that, really, seriously, there are, like, sooo few. …seriously…

But I suspect that the premise of The Matzah Ball, a woman who’s the daughter of a famed Rabbi secretly loves Christmas, is what this winds up being: Being DESperately festive about a season enTIREly NOT Hanukkah. Yes yes yes, there is indeed the shindig of the century, “The Matzah Ball”, which is completely sold out, but when things go awry for party planner Jacob, how does Rachel step in to save the day?

NOT by making it more reverent and celebratory, but she goes off and imaginatively jazzes things up by giving it all a glitzed-out festive air that is representative of the commercial enterprise otherwise known as Christmas. (No, I’m not a grinch about the holiday as Jiminy H. Cricket, I WALLOW in the season, but even I’m observant enough to acknowledge that it’s something of a How Much Will Consumers Be Spending This Year kinda sorta thing). Rachel decking the halls out with blue and white does NOT a Hanukkah make.

Now first off, when we’re introduced to Rachel we’re unceremoniously given a health lesson in ME (Don’t even ask me to spell it), otherwise called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome—and I readily admit that it is NOT seen as the debilitating condition it is. So Rachel is all rumpled and fatigued as she excitedly awaits her best friend Mickey as he’s on his way with her latest Santa figurine for her collection. Her Mom, who once trashed kidlet Rachel’s little Christmas tree, stops by, not knowing that Rachel’s study is TOTALLY decked out for a round-the-year celebration of Christmas. Apparently, this interfering Mom (Who’s always setting her up with nice Jewish men) has never been in the apartment long enough to actually check out any rooms? For yeeeears? And she’s never been concerned that Rachel’s living in fairly affluent circumstances to afford her abode and lifestyle as a freelance copy-editor (Rachel writes romantic Christmas books under a pseudonym)? For yeeeears?

So we’re given that Rachel’s ailment is crippling and Mom and Rabbi dad would SPAZ if they ever knew she was enamored with Christmas—she has bad memories of them reacting to her questions. Rachel lives in terror that her parents and the Jewish community would have hissy fits should her secret become known…

Okay, now onto where else it’s also problematic for me. Jacob and Rachel are carrying grudges they’ve held onto from since they were 12-years old, and now they both act like they’re STILL 12-years old with Rachel becoming snide and Jacob sorta setting her up for embarrassment. And then best friend Mickey speaks out to save the day with a disclosure that shows what a toad (No offense to toads) he’s been and, like, he waits a looooong time, is seeing the great pain the pair are suffering, before he fesses up? And all is hunky dory? And since Jacob had a mom with MS, he’s decidedly okay with spending the rest of his life with caretaking duties; of Rachel, of the children (Four, he lovingly suggests). Dude, it’s called Al-Anon: Run like the wind to the next meeting cuz you’re truuuuly not living your own life first.

Gracious, am I done griping? Let’s see about the narration which is really quite well done by Dara Rosenberg who wisely doesn’t even try to make Mickey sound like a gay Black man. Well played, Ms. Rosenberg…

Yiddish has a grand word that sums it all up: OY!

> heavy sigh < Gonna do what might be becoming an annual tradition: See Dreidels on the Brain for a glorious Listen. Or ANYthing Joel ben Izzy.

Jeez, looks like I doooo Want My Hours Back…