The Matchmaker's Gift(96)

Over the course of the novel, as my character Sara ages, the nature of her matchmaking changes. In order to portray the kinds of matches I thought she would have made in the post–World War II era, I turned, once again, to The New York Times. In reading over the wedding stories of European refugees, I was better able to appreciate and portray the obligation Sara would have felt to help connect Holocaust survivors.

Readers of The Matchmaker’s Gift will find a good deal of Yiddish sprinkled throughout its pages. In the course of my research, I found several different spellings or transliterations of the Yiddish word for matchmaker. I chose to use the spelling shadchan in my story, but there are several other possibilities, including schatchen. A female matchmaker is most often referred to as a shadchanteh, and the plural of the word is shadchanim. Both Susan Kleinman and Adelle Goldenberg were instrumental in helping me to find the proper Yiddish words and phrases.

For those interested in reading the New York Times articles that helped to inspire The Matchmaker’s Gift, I offer the following:

“Finding a Find, Catching a Catch, For Brooklyn’s Orthodox Jews,” January 31, 1977

“Karp Wedding Glory Dazzles East Side,” June 24, 1909

“Rates for Husbands on the Increase: Prices for Desirables Now Run as High as $25,000, so the East Side’s Schatchens Say,” January 16, 1910

“Rivington Street Sees War. Rival Restaurant Men Cut Prices on the Succulent Knish,” January 27, 1916

“Jewish MatchMakers Form Protective Union in Warsaw,” March 3, 1929

“600 at Outdoor Wedding: Rabbi and Bride Met in U.S. After Fleeing from Poland,” April 12, 1948

“2 Young Survivors of Nazidom are Wed,” October 28, 1949

“Couple Who Lived in 4 Nazi Death Camps to Culminate Romance at Wedding Here,” August 10, 1946

“Refugee Couple Wed Here,” August 12, 1946





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


Some of you may know the Yiddish word bashert, which is often translated to mean “soulmate.” But bashert has a broader meaning as well: that of “destiny” or “fate.” For many reasons, the writing of this story was bashert for me.

First, I want to thank all of my readers. I am so grateful for your continued support.

Love and thanks to Adelle Goldenberg, who told me the story that lit the spark for this book.

Thanks to my agent, Marly Rusoff, and her partner, Mihai Radulescu, for pushing me to put this novel on paper. Thanks to my editor, Sarah Cantin, for reading this story with such care and for providing me with such sincere and constant encouragement. Thanks to Kathleen Carter for her diligence, humor, and friendship. A thousand thanks to the entire team at St. Martin’s Press: Jennifer Enderlin, Lisa Senz, Anne Marie Tallberg, Sallie Lotz, Drue VanDuker, Katie Bassel, Beatrice Jason, Brant Janeway, Michelle McMillian, Michael Storrings, Ginny Perrin, Gail Friedman, Hannah Karena Jones, and Deborah Friedman.

I am grateful to the following people for helping me to navigate the medical, legal, historical, and religious details of this story: Dr. Alec Perlson, Laurie Ruckel, Sherry Weindorf, Mark Koestler, Dr. Laura Shaw Frank, Michele Pahmer, Aleeza Bracha Ben Shalom, Rabbi Shlomo Weissmann, Dr. Zev Eleff, and Rabbi Stacey Bergman.

I would never have survived the past two years without my Thursday Zoom crew of Jamie Brenner, Fiona Davis, Nicola Harrison, Suzy Leopold, Amy Poeppel, and Susie Orman Schnall.

Thanks to all of my author, book influencer, and bookselling friends for their love, humor, and patience. To Lisa Barr, Elisabeth Bassin, Jenna Blum, Jenny Brown, Jillian Cantor, Jackie Friedland, Ashley Hasty, Jane Healey, Robin Kall Homonoff, Elise Hooper, Brenda Janowitz, Pam Jenoff, Andrea Peskind Katz, Susan Kleinman, Pamela Klinger-Horn, Sally Koslow, Mary Kubica, Greer Macallister, Lauren Blank Margolin, Kristina McMorris, Annabel Monaghan, Zibby Owens, Kate Quinn, Alyson Richman, Jamie Rosenblitt, Heather Terrell, Heather Webb, Rochelle Weinstein, and Lauren Willig: your presence in my life—whether in person or virtual, frequent or intermittent—has only served to make it better. Please know how much your kindness means to me.

Thanks to the Jewish Book Council for all it does to ensure that Jewish stories survive.

Thanks to Leslie Powell, Grey Salcedo, my mahjong crew, and all of my wonderful Chappaqua friends for humoring me.

Finally, a million thanks, love, and hugs to my family—both immediate and extended. And to my greatest gifts: Bob, Ellie, and Charlie—without you, there would be no stories worth telling.