Just a walk through town after finishing up a project.
Love and War in the Jewish Quarter by Dora Levy Mossanen
This was such an amazing audiobook to work on, historical/magical fiction. That doesn’t come up very often. This one really fed my soul.
Typically, when one hears the words Jewish Literature, the stories originate within European Ashkenazi Jewry. But, that is far from the entirety of the greater Jewish diaspora.
This was a Mizrahi tale. And it was definitely a tale well told. I am still amazed that this is the first of Dora Levy Mossanen’s books to be made into an audiobook.
This was the first book that I have worked on to truly represent my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and all those who came before them.
I grew up in a home with parents who knew and honored many of the traditions and superstitions found within these pages. Unfortunately for me, though these were still living traditions for them, they never knew any of the lore behind them. Those were all lost to time and assimilation.
So, in one of my own traditions, I woke before sunrise today, made a strong Turkish coffee in the pre-dawn stillness, drew back the shades, and watched the sunlight emerge from over the mountain. As I sat there sipping my coffee, letting it steam over the lenses of my glasses, I thought again of each character in the book.
Occasionally, I’d set the coffee aside. The mist would dissolve before my eyes and I’d watch the waters of the brook roll passed the mill downstream to the Connecticut River.
Once I finish the coffee, I head over to the booth and start up the computer. And after a few vocal warm ups, I head into the booth, record the corrections, and at the end of the corrections file, I thank the proofer and engineer for their work on the project.
Then I sit in the booth for a bit; and, I just let go. I let go of the project as best I can.
This time, the project lingered with me throughout the day. And it wasn’t until late afternoon, on my walk, that I felt myself turn one way and the book turn another. At that point, we parted ways.
That was when I looked up at the sky and saw that glorious red, blue, black sunset. The light followed me home. We parted ways at the bridge over the stream that leads to my home.
I wish for you all a book that chooses to linger with you like a pleasant memory reluctant to part ways.
When I sat down to write this, the following song started to play. It seemed appropo, so I thought I’d share…