My Old Man


You lapped up gritty details of her sex life in The New York Press and New York magazine. You read her autobiographical novel, Run Catch Kiss. Admit it. You’d rather hear about Amy Sohn than her book.
Okay, I’ll indulge you, you little voyeur. I knew Amy in college. In fact, we had corner dorm rooms whose windows looked in on each other. One night as I sat forlornly at my little dorm desk, I noticed Amy standing alone in her room. She suddenly struck a pose. Then she started to gyrate. What the hell? Her jeans dropped to the floor. She started to dance. Her shirt flew off and spun over her head. As she reached for her bra clasp, my conscience kicked in and I yanked down the shade. Thirteen years later, I realize that this little strip tease Amy had performed for herself was the perfect preparation for her literary career.
In her new novel, Amy gives us the gripping tale of an ex-rabbinical student Rachel Block abandoning her tefillin and cutting loose in gentrified Brooklyn. Rachel starts shtupping a screenwriter twice her age, her alter kocker father starts acting weird and her mother reacts badly to menopause. Did I mention that Amy lives in Brooklyn, just married a man at least a decade her senior, and her parents, if anything like mine, are probably getting on in years? Like I said, Sohn was practicing her well-honed art way back when Jay-Z was just a subway line.
– Matthew Smith