At first glance, Love You a Latke may look like just another flirty, holiday-themed romcom novel. But there's more here than meets the eye: the most interesting tension is not between the romantic leads, but between Jewish identity and assimilation. 

The story begins with Abby Cohen, an entrepreneur worried about declining sales at her coffee shop. At an unofficial town gathering, Abby, as the only Jew in attendance, is placed in the uncomfortable position of being the de-facto host for a Hanukkah festival, something local leaders hope to use to increase tourism while paying lip service to Jewish culture. Just as romantic tension develops between Abby and Seth, the only other local Jew, so too does tension develop within her as she tries to figure out what being Jewish means to her. 

In one scene, Abby has to explain the story of Hanukkah to a surly vendor her town wants to hire for to cater the festival. Abby feels frustrated and uncomfortable with his overall lack of interest in truly understanding Jewish culture, reflected in his suggestion that eight reindeer could serve as stand-ins for the shamash at the festival. In another scene, Abby attends a menorah-lighting in New York City, a celebration that brings her a deep sense of community, even as she notes her fear of a hate crime occurring. Even decorating Hanukkah cookies in a New York synagogue makes Abby nervous; she sits close to the exit in case of a shooter or other violence. 

Abby’s attentiveness to the world around her and the way her Jewish identity interacts with that world are what make this book shine, even as her romance with Seth is sweet but nothing new. Her refusal to exist within the “shy girl” romance novel stereotype and instead be unabashedly prickly prevent this book from falling into predictable tropes, and allow readers to critique the world through her eyes. Why, she wonders, is it okay for society to decide how much Judaism is acceptable and appealing? She even takes a jab at the casting of non-Jewish women to play the titular character in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and Ruth Bader Ginsburg in the biopic On the Basis Of Sex. In Abby’s eyes, these choices reveal how society will never perceive Jewish women as appealing and mainstream enough to star in such films. In some ways, this book seeks to push back on the reality it critiques, by presenting a proudly Jewish woman who might be considered “too Jewish” by the society in which she lives.

Ultimately, despite being a romance, Love You a Latke is a tale of self-love and community. Abby's relationship with Seth serves as a literal manifestation of her relationship with her Jewishness. As she explores what Judaism means to her, she works through a painful family history of emotional abuse, something that remains taboo both in Jewish communities and in society more broadly. With an ending that satisfyingly checks the boxes for the romance genre, the book left me charmed by Abby's spirit. Still, I wondered why she needed Seth in the first place, as she develops new forms of emotional intimacy with strong Jewish women in her life. While relationships are, of course, an integral part of the romance genre, I wish the ending reflected Abby’s independence and self-sufficiency by leaving her future more up to the imagination. After all, life is messy. Abby’s story is messy. And as much as I appreciate a story that ends happily, I wish the ending had honored Abby’s character more. 

Ending aside, I would happily recommend this book to anyone in need of a fun escape this winter season, with just enough thoughtfulness to keep you turning the pages.