The Chosen

When I first read Chaim Potok's The Chosen, circa 2010, I was bowled over. (Katie and I were dating long distance at the time and she recommended it; her taste in books is one of the first things I loved about her.)

While I didn't know anything about what it was like being a Jewish teenager in Brooklyn during the Second World War, I felt every page of the novel. Strong memories of those feelings have stayed with me for nearly a decade now, so last month I opted for round two.

Curiously, though the feelings had remained with me, almost tangibly so, as I read it again I realized I hadn't actually remembered how the story would end. So it was a gift to experience that all over again. It's not a happy book, exactly, but it sure is rewarding.