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Books by Rochelle Krich

  • : Now You See Me...

    Now You See Me...
    A Molly Blume Mystery
    "One of this year's best mystery intriguing, engrossing, and even enchanting tale magnificently and beautifully told" - Bookreporter
    "A gripping tale of deceit, revenge and murder" - Jerusalem Post

    "A well-crafted mystery that is also a powerful exploration of the tragedy of unintended consequences. Krich excels at creating suspense through her characters' struggles and mistakes...a page-turner." -- Library Journal

    "Krich puts a sure finger on the painful spots where ordinary kids' problems turn into murderous melodrama—all at a bargain price." - Kirkus Review

  • : Dream House

    Dream House
    Agatha Award Nominee
    "Tantalizing...engaging" - Booklist

  • : Blues in the Night

    Blues in the Night
    Agatha Award Nominee
    "A sleuth worth her salt" - NY Times Book Review
    "A fresh new presence...Smart, resourceful, and curious--not much escapes her." Sue Grafton


    Winner of the Mary Higgins Clark Award
    L.A.Times Bestseller
    "Krich once again expertly mixes Orthodox Jewish faith with crisp, whodunit plotting....An engaging thriller...Krich never misses a beat" (Publishers Weekly)
    Winner of the Calavera Award

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« No Longer Looking for Mr. Goodbar | Main | When One Is One Too Many »

August 11, 2005


rabbi neil fleischmann

I'm trying to clean up this summer and books are hard to let go of. But there is what to be said for space...


I have to update my recent comment... I was speaking to my mother yesterday and she said that she was looking at the bookshelves at my childhood home. There were SO MANY of my books, with my name in them, some of them schoolbooks, some from university, where I majored in English literature...when would I take them home with me? "You have a bookshelf or two, don't you?" "Ummm, okay, Mom...I'll take them."
I couldn't help but silently think of your post when I spoke to my mother, and of my first comment. I guess the tall book stacks might soon be making an appearance at my house!


This has been a problem of mine for years, and I'm kind of young yet. Slowly but surely, my books have seeped over cardboard crates in my closet, shelves on my dresser, and boxes under my bed. Combine that with the thousands of pages of my own writing which, however horrible, I refuse to let die, and you have a real roommate turnoff.

I don't know. My parents like to keep a reasonable amount of books on the shelves upstairs, and the unseemly surplus hidden away in some secret library in our basement. You were probably looking for a better solution though, weren't you? (;


Pearl, I love the stories in Malamud's The Magic Barrell. I'm particularly taken with the title story, and taught it in my AP English classes.

Thanks for reminding me about it.


A great idea about the plank of wood. Alas, my paperback shelves aren't tall enough...


If your shelves are deep and high enough, you can put a thick plank of wood in the back, which will raise pbks. enough that you can usually tell which titles are there without having to move all the ones in front.

I keep books because I'm a rereader, which so many of my friends don't understand. I, on the other hand, can't understand how someone can read a good book only once. It's all very well to say that they're available in the library, but when it's 11 p.m. and you need the comfort of a particular read, you'd best have the book in your own house.


I have managed to weed out some of my vast collection of books; I thought emotionally it would be more difficult to do -- but I realized that space was of the essence. Not all the books I owned were keepers. But among those that remain on my shelf are an autographed copy of Mordecai Richler's "Joshua Then and Now"; Bernard Malamud's "The Magic Barrel" -- bought March 1982; I.J. Singer's "The Family Carnovsky" -- bought in Haifa in January 1984; "Call It Sleep" by Henry Roth -- bought in July 1981; a personalized, autographed hardcover copy of Herman Wouk's "The Hope".
One of the mainstays in my book collection is "Night" by Elie Wiesel, bought and studied when I was in 9th grade, later studied when I was in high school, and again studied when I was in university. Inside the book's front cover are index cards with brief points of a presentation I did about the book when I studied it at some point. That book has meant something concrete and real to me since I first picked it up. Each reading of it only accentuated its significance. It is a book I do not plan to part with.

If you get "a chance" to read it, read "Walking Home" by Gloria Goldreich (MIRA BOOKS, early 2005 pub date); I think I might've mentioned it to you in L.A., saying how taken both my mother and I were with the story.

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