Friday, December 12, 2014

A00064 - Gilbert Marks, Historian of Jewish Food and Culture

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Gil Marks in a family photograph on May 30, 2014, his 62nd birthday. CreditElli Schorr
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Gil Marks, a culinary historian who wrote widely on the relationship between Jewish food and Jewish culture in a manner that was both scholarly and friendly, died on Friday in Jerusalem. He was 62.
The cause was lung cancer, his niece Efrat Altshul Schorr said, adding that Mr. Marks was not a smoker.
Mr. Marks studied for the rabbinate at Yeshiva University in New York, but he burrowed into the history and culture of the Jews more through the recipe book than the Talmud. Still, some would argue that his work was, in its way, Talmudic — full of information and interpretive wisdom on the foods of Jewish tradition and the governing principles of cooking and eating them.
He was the author of five books, an oeuvre that not only provided a recipe-by-recipe chronicle of kosher menus through the centuries but also examined the role of food in the establishment and growth of cultural traditions.
A writer of eloquent informality with a wide frame of reference, Mr. Marks was as apt to cite the song parodist Allan Sherman or the acerbic monologuist Lenny Bruce, as he was the Torah scholar Maimonides or the Yiddish author Sholom Aleichem. He spent a working lifetime not simply in the kitchen testing unusual seasonings and combinations of ingredients, but also in libraries poring over texts for the arcane details of food preparation.
“If you needed to know when they started eating carrots in Spain, he could tell you,” William Altshul, who is married to Mr. Marks’s sister Sharon, said in an interview on Tuesday.
Mr. Marks’s books included “The World of Jewish Cooking,” a vastly varied introduction to foods from around the globe; and “Olive Trees and Honey: A Treasury of Vegetarian Recipes From Jewish Communities Around the World,” which won a James Beard Award in 2005. He is probably best known, however, for his 2010 compendium, “Encyclopedia of Jewish Food,” an A-to-Z guide, nearly 700 pages long, through 2,500 years of comestibles both familiar and obscure.
“A filled pastry, either baked or fried,” Mr. Marks writes, by way of definition, in introducing the entry on the knish. Then, after citing an especially appetite-stimulating passage from a Sholom Aleichem short story, he traces the path of the pastry through the centuries, from Eastern Europe to the street carts of New York and Yonah Schimmel, the celebrated knishery on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
“The knish is a classic example of peasant food evolving into comfort food and even sophisticated fare,” Mr. Marks’s history begins. “The origins of the knish lay in a medieval Slavic fried patty, called knysz in Poland, a peasant dish made from a cooked vegetable, most notably mashed turnips, or kasha; leftovers were typically used. These small cakes commonly accompanied a soup, and frequently the two dishes were the entire meal.
“Slavic cooks began stuffing the patties with little sautéed mushrooms, onions or chopped meat, and eventually began adding bread crumbs or flour to the outer portion.”
He added, “Eastern European Jews adapted the knysz to the dictates of kosherlaws and to their tastes, transforming it into the knish, a small, round, fried, filled pastry; this was a tasty way to enhance and stretch staples, most notably kasha, cabbage and curd cheese.”
Gilbert Stanley Marks was born in Charleston, W.Va., on May 30, 1952, a son of Harold Marks, who operated a linen supply business, and the former Beverly Rosenthal, a painter on Judaic themes. The family moved to Richmond, Va., when Gil was a teenager. He graduated from the Talmudical Academy of Baltimore, and then moved to New York to attend Yeshiva University, where he earned a bachelor’s degree, master’s degrees in social work and history, and his rabbinical ordination.
For a time, he was a guidance counselor and history teacher at Yeshiva University High School for Boys in New York, and he also worked in Philadelphia as a social worker before returning to New York for most of his adult life. He had recently moved to Alon Shvut, near Jerusalem in the West Bank.
At his death, he was at work on a book defined more by national than by religious tradition: “American Cakes,” some of which has appeared on the website The History Kitchen.
Mr. Marks’s interest in cooking began in boyhood when, according to family lore, he would complain about his mother’s cooking, to which she responded, “If you don’t like it, make something yourself.”
A self-taught cook, he became an excellent one, entertaining frequently in his small apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan but otherwise, according to Mr. Altshul, living an ascetic life in an austere home.
“He didn’t buy things for himself,” he said. “He bought kitchen utensils.”
Besides his sister Sharon, Mr. Marks’s survivors include his mother; a second sister, Carol Vegh; two brothers, Jeffrey and Arthur; and, in addition to Ms. Schorr, 30 other nieces and nephews and 25 grandnieces and grandnephews, the first, last and middle names of whom — all 56 of them — Mr. Marks could recite, Ms. Schorr said.

Saturday, December 6, 2014

A00063 - Leslie Feinberg, Writer and Transgender Activist

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A self-portrait of Leslie Feinberg in the West Village in 2011. CreditLeslie Feinberg
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Leslie Feinberg, a writer and activist whose 1993 novel, “Stone Butch Blues,” is considered a landmark in the contemporary literature of gender complexity, died on Nov. 15 at her home in Syracuse. She was 65.
Her death was confirmed by her spouse, Minnie Bruce Pratt, who said in a statement that the cause was “complications from multiple tick-borne co-infections, including Lyme disease.”
Feinberg, who resisted being called Ms. or any other gender-specific honorific, wrote fiercely and furiously on behalf of those she saw as oppressed because of their sexual, ethnic, racial or other identities. A longtime member of theWorkers World Party, a Marxist-Leninist group, and a prolific journalist for its newspaper, she wrote a 120-part series, from 2004 to 2008, explicating the role of socialism in the history of gender politics.
Feinberg was an advocate for minorities and for the poor, as well as for gay men and lesbians and others who identified as transgender — an umbrella term, distinct from transsexual, that describes people whose life experience straddles the line between male and female and between masculine and feminine.
She herself was biologically a woman but presented outwardly as male — and sometimes passed as a man for reasons of safety, a friend, Julie Enszer, said in an interview. Feinberg, in referring to herself, used the pronouns ze (for she) and hir (for her), though she often said pronoun usage was frequently a matter of context.
“I am female-bodied, I am a butch lesbian, a transgender lesbian — referring to me as ‘she/her’ is appropriate, particularly in a non-trans setting in which referring to me as ‘he’ would appear to resolve the social contradiction between my birth sex and gender expression and render my transgender expression invisible,” she explained in a 2006 interview with Camp, a publication in Kansas City, Mo., aimed at gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people and their supporters.
“I like the gender neutral pronoun ‘ze/hir,’ ” she continued, “because it makes it impossible to hold on to gender/sex/sexuality assumptions about a person you’re about to meet or you’ve just met. And in an all trans setting, referring to me as ‘he/him’ honors my gender expression in the same way that referring to my sister drag queens as ‘she/her’ does.”
Feinberg’s books included two nonfiction studies of gender issues, “Transgender Warriors: Making History From Joan of Arc to Dennis Rodman” and “Trans Liberation: Beyond Pink or Blue,” and a second novel, “Drag King.”
But her best-known and most influential work was “Stone Butch Blues,” a coming-of-age novel, drawn at least partly from her own life, about a young person, born female, who grows into adulthood at odds with her own family and comes to grips with her complicated, unconventional sexual and gender identity at a time when practicing a so-called alternative lifestyle invited stigma, open discrimination and, in many settings, menacing opprobrium.
“They cuffed my hands so tight I almost cried out,” the protagonist, Jess Goldberg, writes in a letter to a former lover, describing a night the police raided a club they were in together. “Then the cop unzipped his pants real slow, with a smirk on his face, and ordered me down on my knees. First I thought to myself, I can’t! Then I said out loud to myself and to you and to him, I won’t! I never told you this before but something changed inside of me at that moment. I learned the difference between what I can’t do and what I refuse to do.”
Leslie Feinberg was born on Sept. 1, 1949, in Kansas City and grew up in Buffalo. Her family was hostile to her sexuality and gender expression, and she left home as a teenager, rejecting them as well.
According to a biographical statement supplied by her spouse, Feinberg earned a living mostly in temporary low-wage jobs, including washing dishes, working in a book bindery, cleaning out ship cargo holds and interpreting sign language.
In addition to writing, she pursued many causes as an activist. In 1974, she organized a march against racism in Boston after white supremacists had attacked blacks there. She helped rally support for AIDS patients and those at risk in the early days of the disease. A longtime advocate for women’s reproductive rights, she returned to Buffalo to work for that cause in 1998, after an abortion provider, Dr. Barnett Slepian, was murdered in his home near there.
In addition to Pratt, a poet and an activist, Feinberg is survived by “an extended family of choice,” according to the statement provided by her spouse. She “identified as an antiracist white, working-class, secular Jewish, transgender, lesbian, female revolutionary communist,” the statement said.
In an essay after Feinberg’s death, Shauna Miller, a writer and editor who contributes to The Atlantic, wrote on the magazine’s website that “Stone Butch Blues” was “the heartbreaking holy grail of butch perspective,” a book that was instrumental in her coming to terms with her own sexual and gender identity. The novel, which has been translated into several languages including Chinese and Slovenian, “changed queer history,” she wrote.
“It changed trans history. It changed dyke history. And how it did that was by honestly telling a brutally real, beautifully vulnerable and messy personal story of a butch lesbian.”