Fic­tion

Love Me Like a Rock Song

  • Review
By – August 17, 2026

While there are still far too few queer Jew­ish char­ac­ters to be found on the page, the num­ber is ris­ing, par­tic­u­lar­ly in the realm of fan­ta­sy. There is much Jew­ish folk­lore ripe for rein­ter­pre­ta­tion; per­haps no fic­tion­al crea­ture is so well-known as the golem, an inan­i­mate being brought to life to pro­tect Jews in times of need. It isn’t hard to fig­ure out why the golem might be a pop­u­lar or com­fort­ing sym­bol in these times. The golem also makes for an excel­lent char­ac­ter through which to explore dif­fer­ent facets of queer identity.

In her new nov­el, Love Me Like a Rock Song, Shelly Jay Shore tells the sto­ry of Emmett and Delilah, a golem and a woman respec­tive­ly, as they embark on a road trip across the con­ti­nen­tal Unit­ed States in a van named Roscoe. Emmett is attempt­ing to ful­fil their master’s dying wish; Delilah is try­ing to repair her bro­ken heart and write an album. There is a lot to enjoy in this book: The glimpses of the queer com­mu­ni­ties Delilah and Emmet dip into on their way west; the queer the­o­ry, Jew­ish wis­dom, and men­tal health notes includ­ed at the begin­ning of every chap­ter; the way Emmett’s eyes are opened to the truth of them­selves as they touch the wider world, and the way their nature as a golem feeds organ­i­cal­ly into their new­ly owned gen­der fluidity. 

Speak­ing of Emmett, Shore’s approach to the well-known fig­ure of the golem is fresh. Rather than a hulk­ing, non­hu­man enti­ty made from clay and water, Emmett pass­es seam­less­ly in the human world, appear­ing as a Nice Jew­ish Boy com­plete with kip­pah and tzitz­it. They were not cre­at­ed to pro­tect a shtetl from pogroms, but one man from his grief. It’s an inter­est­ing twist on the tra­di­tion­al tale, one more com­pelling than Delilah’s sto­ry at times, even if occa­sion­al­ly less fleshed out. (Per­haps this is done inten­tion­al­ly to keep Emmett shroud­ed in mys­ti­cism, but it also rais­es unan­swered ques­tions.) Despite the some­times intense sub­ject mat­ter — there is fre­quent talk of death and sui­ci­dal ideation — this book is an over­all light and very enjoy­able read to take you into the spooky autumn months.

Sarah G. Levine is an author who lives in Crown Heights with her wife, dog, and many house plants. When she isn’t writ­ing, knit­ting, or bak­ing, you can find her post­ing on her Insta­gram or Tik Tok @sarah_gwrites, or on her Sub­stack Your Sick Friend. 

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