Fic­tion

Like Wafers in Honey

  • Review
By – April 20, 2026

It is 1943, and Italy is in tur­moil. Stel­la For­tu­na Servi, a young Jew­ish woman liv­ing in the Tus­can town of Pit­igliano, strug­gles to cope with the dra­mat­ic changes in her life. Although her family’s roots in Pit­igliano go back cen­turies, they are now con­fronting per­se­cu­tion by the Fas­cist regime, which is allied with Nazi Ger­many. Her father’s pros­per­ous busi­ness is destroyed, and his role as rab­bi becomes increas­ing­ly dif­fi­cult, even des­per­ate. Stella’s sto­ry is a grip­ping chron­i­cle of sac­ri­fice and courage, as Stel­la and her fam­i­ly try to evade cap­ture. In a par­al­lel nar­ra­tive, Ital­ian Jew­ish immi­grant Edda Mach­lin adapts to a new life in post war sub­ur­ban New York. Mach­lin is based on the cook­book author Edda Mach­lin Servi (1926 – 2019), and the clas­sic recipes that she com­piled and pro­mot­ed are inter­wo­ven through­out the novel.

Like Wafers in Hon­ey is fast-paced and taut with dra­mat­ic ten­sion. Leah Eskin’s char­ac­ters are sharply delin­eat­ed, each one adapt­ing to the intol­er­a­ble in a dis­tinc­tive way. Stella’s father per­forms a range of jobs for his non-Jew­ish neigh­bors, but his remu­ner­a­tion is nev­er enough. One woman sees him as her book­keep­er, her medi­a­tor, her scribe, set­tling a warm brown egg in his palm.” Bare­ly able to sup­port his fam­i­ly, and warned that they may be deport­ed to an unknown fate, he is reluc­tant to leave those who need him. Stel­la and her sib­lings under­take a jour­ney, dis­guis­ing their iden­ti­ties and seek­ing tem­po­rary shel­ter. She no longer knows whom she can trust, as any­one might betray her.

For Edda, a for­tu­nate sur­vivor, the haven of Westch­ester and New York City is marked by dif­fer­ent dif­fi­cul­ties. Her hus­band, Eugene, is sup­port­ive and lov­ing, but Edda feels alien­at­ed by her new envi­ron­ment. Many of Eugene’s friends, some based on his­tor­i­cal fig­ures, are involved in the move­ments for social change that defined the 1960s. Both time­lines are strength­ened by accu­rate details, although Edda’s mem­o­ry of chant­i­ng her par­sha, Torah por­tion, for a bat mitz­vah cer­e­mo­ny would not have been part of Jew­ish rit­u­al in that era or place. Asked by the mem­bers of her synagogue’s sis­ter­hood to bake haman­taschen, Edda balks. Nei­ther Ashke­nazi nor Sephardic, she iden­ti­fies with the Italkim from her home­land. Read­ers can com­pare these dry tri­an­gles,” to the fried orec­chi di Aman (Haman’s ears) that she pre­pares; the recipe includes oil, rum, and grat­ed lemon.

Eskin’s prose style is built around exquis­ite­ly accu­rate metaphors, many based on fem­i­nine cre­ativ­i­ty. Hid­ing in the for­est, Stel­la feels embraced by the pine trees, their green nee­dles and resin scent as com­fort­ing as Nonna’s quilt.” When she and her broth­er take refuge in a cave filled with doves, she feels the birds’ almond eyes” star­ing at them. A recipe for Il Bol­lo, anise bread birds,” fol­lows this pas­sage. Not only the land­scape, but peo­ple them­selves are imag­ined as the prod­ucts of arti­sans, as in the act of knit­ting. The knits, their faces open and atten­tive, were chil­dren. The purls, gaz­ing away, were adults … The fab­ric formed a fam­i­ly, a tribe, a peo­ple bound togeth­er. Cut one stitch, unrav­el the whole.”

By the novel’s end, the two nar­ra­tive strands become one. Stel­la Fortuna’s luck and for­ti­tude endure, and Edda finds pur­pose in teach­ing oth­ers about the foods that nur­tured her. 

Emi­ly Schnei­der writes about lit­er­a­ture, fem­i­nism, and cul­ture for TabletThe For­wardThe Horn Book, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions, and writes about chil­dren’s books on her blog. She has a Ph.D. in Romance Lan­guages and Literatures.

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