The Bet­sy Hotel and Jew­ish Book Coun­cil are pleased to share the final­ists for this year’s Jew­ish Book Month writer’s res­i­den­cy con­test: Lesléa New­man, A.R. Vish­ny, and Eri­ca Stern. You can see their entries below and find out more about this year’s win­ner, Olga Zil­ber­bourg, here.

The Writer’s Room at The Bet­sy is a work­ing stu­dio space for vis­it­ing writ­ers and artists to cre­ate, devel­op their craft and share their work through com­mu­ni­ty pro­grams, The Writer’s Room pays homage to the many​“writ­ing rooms” that exist­ed in pre­war hotels where guests record­ed mem­o­ries and linked to home. Alum­ni from the pro­gram can be found here and more infor­ma­tion on The Bet­sy Hotel can be found here.

Lesléa New­man

It is very fit­ting that I am com­pos­ing this essay on June 12th, Anne Frank’s birth­day (she would have turned nine­ty-six today). Anne Frank has lived in my pri­vate library since I was twelve years old. The Dell paper­back I read in junior high school was pub­lished in 1952, sold for thir­ty-five cents, boasts a pho­to of Mil­lie Perkins who played Anne in George Steven’s movie on the cov­er, and con­tains an intro­duc­tion by Eleanor Roo­sevelt. I have schlepped that book with its brit­tle brown pages and torn cov­er to every home I’ve ever known — from my sub­ur­ban Long Island child­hood split-lev­el, to my Ver­mont col­lege dorm, to every rat­ty apart­ment I’ve ever lived in, to the house my bash­ert and I final­ly pur­chased sev­en­teen years ago.

Along with my pre­cious, falling-apart copy (the cov­er has detached itself from the inside pages) I have sev­er­al oth­er books about Anne includ­ing Anne Frank’s Tales from the Secret Annex and Anne Frank’s Diary: The Graph­ic Adap­ta­tion. In addi­tion, my book­shelf holds works of fic­tion inspired by Anne: the short sto­ry col­lec­tion What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank by Nathan Eng­lan­der, The Boy Who Loved Anne Frank by Ellen Feld­man, and When We Flew Away: A Nov­el of Anne Frank Before the Diary by Alice Hoff­man. And then there’s my most recent addi­tion to this col­lec­tion, Anne Frank: The Exhi­bi­tion, the muse­um cat­a­log I pur­chased after tour­ing the Cen­ter for Jew­ish History’s exhib­it about Anne Frank which includ­ed, for the first time ever, a recre­ation of the rooms that Anne and her fam­i­ly hid in for two years until they were dis­cov­ered and….well, we all know what happened. 

Anne Frank has always been a pres­ence in my life. As a Jew­ish author, my self-appoint­ed mis­sion is to use my voice to hon­or those whose voic­es were stolen. I feel like I owe it to Anne to open my big Jew­ish mouth and car­ry on as loud­ly and as proud­ly as I can. And to remem­ber as she, who was so wise beyond her years put it, How won­der­ful it is that nobody need wait a sin­gle moment before start­ing to improve the world.” Anne Frank improved the world by leav­ing behind a diary full of com­pas­sion, dig­ni­ty, strength, and hope. I feel hon­ored that her words have tak­en up res­i­dence in my heart and home.

Author pho­to by Mary Vazquez

Lesléa New­man has cre­at­ed eighty-eight books for read­ers of all ages includ­ing the mem­oirs-in-verse, I Car­ry My Moth­er and I Wish My Father, and the children’s books, Joy­ful Song: A Nam­ing Sto­ry; The Bab­ka Sis­ters; Git­tel’s Jour­ney: An Ellis Island Sto­ry; Wel­com­ing Eli­jah: A Pasover Tale with a Tail; and Ket­zel, The Cat Who Com­posed. Her lit­er­ary awards include two Nation­al Jew­ish Book Awards, the Syd­ney Tay­lor Body-of-Work Award, a poet­ry fel­low­ship from the Nation­al Endow­ment for the Arts and the Mass­a­chu­setts Book Award. A for­mer poet lau­re­ate of Northamp­ton, MA, she teach­es at the Naslund-Mann School of Pro­fes­sion­al Writ­ing. Her newest children’s book, Some­thing Sweet: A Sit­ting Shi­va Sto­ry will be pub­lished in March, 2026.

A. R. Vishny

I’m drawn to works that illu­mi­nate the inte­ri­or lives and burn­ing ambi­tions of Jew­ish women across time. Maybe it’s because a lot of my writ­ing is about ghosts and the undead, but again and again the authors who win me over are those who breathe life and human­i­ty into the past. Amy Levy’s Reuben Sachs I return to often. Levy’s so clever and wit­ty, and her book is per­haps the only time I’ve ever picked up a nov­el writ­ten by a Vic­to­ri­an-era per­son and felt it depict­ed Jews who were famil­iar and a Jew­ish com­mu­ni­ty I rec­og­nized. Her sharp dia­logue and obser­va­tions about mid­dle-class Jew­ish com­mu­nal life feel like they could have been writ­ten today. Alice Hoffman’s The Mar­riage of Oppo­sites is anoth­er all-time favorite; the atten­tion Hoff­man gives to Rachel’s desires and char­ac­ter devel­op­ment across a life­time and the rich, immer­sive ren­der­ing of the nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry Jew­ish com­mu­ni­ty of St. Thomas make for an incred­i­ble lit­er­ary achieve­ment. Judy Batalion’s The Light of Days shook me to the core when I first read it. The book is a human­iz­ing por­trait of these frankly super­hero Jew­ish women resis­tance fight­ers who have by and large fall­en out of the his­tor­i­cal narrative. 

While I’m ordi­nar­i­ly not a big poet­ry read­er, the Paper Bridges col­lec­tion by Kadya Molodowsky is a gor­geous artic­u­la­tion of long­ing and reflec­tion. I adored Paula Vogel’s Inde­cent so much when I saw it on Broad­way that I bought and reg­u­lar­ly reread the play; I loved the atten­tion it gave both to the his­to­ry of God of Vengeance and how a sto­ry trans­forms the peo­ple who tell it. And when I want fan­ta­sy, I return to Nao­mi Novik’s Spin­ning Sil­ver. The book is beau­ti­ful, top-tier world-build­ing as far as Jew­ish fan­ta­sy is con­cerned, and ambi­tious, prick­ly Miryem is a pro­tag­o­nist after my own heart.

A.R. Vishny’s debut nov­el, Night Owls, won the Nation­al Jew­ish Book Award and Syd­ney Tay­lor Book Award. Her essays on Jew­ish rep­re­sen­ta­tion in pop cul­ture have appeared in Teen Vogue, The Wash­ing­ton Post, and Hey Alma. She earned a B.A. in Eng­lish at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Mass­a­chu­setts Amherst, and a J.D. at the Ben­jamin N. Car­do­zo School of Law, where she was a Law and Lit­er­a­ture fel­low. Born and raised in Mass­a­chu­setts, she now calls New York City home. 

Eri­ca Stern

My Jew­ish book­shelf includes every­thing from clas­sics by Grace Paley and Cyn­thia Ozick (favorites of mine and such mas­ters of the short sto­ry) to con­tem­po­rary writ­ers, includ­ing Ben­jamin Resnick and the mag­nif­i­cent­ly inven­tive Sab­ri­na Orah Mark. There’s some­thing about the voic­es of Jew­ish writ­ers that seems to echo out from a deeply famil­iar place. It’s not just the sto­ries or char­ac­ters, but also the voice, the entire milieu of the nar­ra­tives. As a Jew who grew up in the deep south, I’ve long grav­i­tat­ed towards work that felt like it belonged to me, that I could claim some­how as my own. 

For the past sev­er­al years, I’ve also been immersed in Jew­ish texts for my book, a hybrid mem­oir about a trau­mat­ic birth that wres­tled with deeply Jew­ish themes. I did not set out to write a Jew­ish book and yet appar­ent­ly that was inevitable. I could not grap­ple with what it meant to become a moth­er or expe­ri­ence grief or nav­i­gate uncer­tain­ty with­out look­ing to Judaism. I read Adri­enne Rich, the Bible — par­tic­u­lar­ly the Book of Jon­ah — as well as relat­ed com­men­tary. I also read a num­ber of Jew­ish folk tales, most of them from Joachim Neugroschel’s col­lec­tion, Great Tales of Jew­ish Fan­ta­sy and the Occult

Now that my book is out and much of the pub­lic­i­ty work behind me, I’ve begun to delve back into read­ing whole­heart­ed­ly. Just last week I did a book event at a store in New York, and after­wards found Yael van der Wouden’s The Safe­keep on the shelf. I imme­di­ate­ly bought it (I’ve heard such won­der­ful things about it for a while now) and start­ed read­ing it while trav­el­ing. Though I’m only at the begin­ning, I can tell it’s going to be tru­ly excel­lent and grip­ping, with a unique view­point into Jew­ish iden­ti­ty — a per­fect book to recen­ter myself as I begin new cre­ative projects. 

Eri­ca Stern is the author of Fron­tier: A Mem­oir and a Ghost Sto­ry (Bar­rel­house Books), a Jew­ish Wom­en’s Archive Win­ter 2025 Book Club Pick and a Chica­go Review of Books Must Read Book of June 2025. Her writ­ing has appeared in The Iowa Review, The Sun, Den­ver Quar­ter­ly, The Wall Street Jour­nal, LitHub, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. 

Eri­ca has been award­ed fel­low­ships and res­i­den­cies from the Ver­mont Stu­dio Cen­ter, the Martha’s Vine­yard Insti­tute for Cre­ative Writ­ing, and the Vir­ginia Cen­ter for Cre­ative Arts. She received her under­grad­u­ate degree in Eng­lish from Yale and her MFA from The School of the Art Insti­tute of Chica­go. A native of New Orleans, she now lives with her fam­i­ly in Evanston, Illinois.