Terminal Cancer Hasn’t Softened This Jewish Mother One Bit

Jordy Rosenberg’s second novel, “Night Night Fawn,” approaches a closed-minded matriarch with compassion, even at her child’s expense.

By Melissa Broder

NIGHT NIGHT FAWN, by Jody Rosenberg

As the Yiddish proverb goes, “Two Jews, three opinions,” and it’s in this spirit of debate that Jordy Rosenberg writes his second novel, “Night Night Fawn.” Rosenberg brilliantly probes the dialectic between a mother’s often cruel judgments and actions toward her adult child, and the latter’s desire to consider the mother’s perspective with broad-minded compassion — even at his own expense.

Night Night Fawn” is largely a pseudo-autobiographical tale told by 70-year-old Barbara Rosenberg (née Horowitz), who is reflecting on her life from her cancer-ridden, OxyContin-infused deathbed, a 47-year-old mattress that has sunk so far it’s taken on the shape of pita bread.”

Barbara is cared for by her estranged transgender son, whom she alternately refers to as a “Marxist,” a “mannish woman,” “a lunatic bird” and his birth name, Jordana. She recounts and bemoans the relationships and experiences of her past: a mink-wearing childhood friend; her job cleaning “ass-grease” at the office of a mediocre plastic surgeon; her mint-chewing doctor turned public-servant husband, Stephen; his family and other schlemiels. Read the full review at the New York Times.