Reviews

My Mother

Mom never wanted her son Dave to become a policeman. "For all the brains it takes, believe me, you might as well be in business with your uncles." Besides, "All those gangsters and dope fiends and bookies and hatchet murderers and other such goniffs; isn't it possible you could get hurt some day?" Dave and his very superior, Wellesley-educated wife, Shirley, have dinner with Mom in the Bronx every Friday evening. Between the chicken soup and the schnecken, Dave talks about his current cases, and mom's long experience in dealing with scheming butchers, nosey neighbors, and eccentric relatives leads her to a logical solution to the mysteries.

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M
Martin Ross

Long been fascinated by James Yaffe’s rise in the genre - from his initial short story glitch to Frederic Dannay’s guidance enabling him to flourish with the Paul Dawn stories and a critically acclaimed mainstream career culminating in a penetrating study of American Judaism. First met Mom nearly 50 years ago working through a church sale stack of EQMMs, and was hit in the way Kemelman’s Rabbi novels struck me in blending warm human discourse with sharp mystery observation and social perception. These are phenomenal, absorbing, and fun armchair (dining room chair) detection. Thanks for completing my joy.

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