I have some very special news to share: My book, Lily of the Valley—An American Jewish Journey, has been named a finalist for the Foreword Indies Book of the Year Award in the Religious (Adult Fiction) category for 2016!

As many of you know, this story touches something deep inside of me, and it is very gratifying to know that others have been touched by it as well. From the time the very first Lily began whispering her story to me many years ago, I felt a tremendous responsibility to bring her words out into the world. I am humbled as much as excited by this honor, and most of all, if it brings Lily's story to the attention of more readers, then I will be ever grateful.
You can check out Foreword's review of Lily of the Valley here.

As many of you know, this story touches something deep inside of me, and it is very gratifying to know that others have been touched by it as well. From the time the very first Lily began whispering her story to me many years ago, I felt a tremendous responsibility to bring her words out into the world. I am humbled as much as excited by this honor, and most of all, if it brings Lily's story to the attention of more readers, then I will be ever grateful.
You can check out Foreword's review of Lily of the Valley here.

This month, March 2017, marks the first anniversary of the publication of my verse novella, Lily of the Valley—An American Jewish Journey. This, as many of you know, is the story of five generations of American Jewish women and the resilience, faith and American Dream they all share.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have been so supportive, who have bought books, who have been part of the wonderful gatherings, audiences and classes where I have been privileged to share Lily's story. Those occasions have always resulted in such lively and deeply moving question-and-answer sessions at the end. One of the most frequently asked questions is one that I address in the Preface to the book: who was Lily, the very first Lily, to me?
My answer is always the same. I do not know. This book is not autobiographical. It is officially categorized as a work of fiction. But is it? I do not know. As I say in the Preface, Lily began whispering her story to me in snippets of rhymed, metered poetry many years ago on my morning walk. She was very insistent that I tell her story, which I did as a requested performance at a banquet for Chabad of the Valley many years ago. And when I returned to the story more than a decade later to prepare it for publication, Lily began whispering to me again, fleshing out her tale beyond what could fit into a fifteen minute reading at the banquet. So who was Lily to me? I do not know, but she was someone, and she is very real to me. She is lodged somewhere deep inside my soul.
This answer often leads to an intriguing follow-up question, usually asked by people who themselves want to write: does Lily still talk to me? At first the question caught me off guard. I really had to think about it. Had I heard from Lily since I brought the book out into the world? And the answer, I realized, is yes, she does come to me occasionally. But now she is no longer telling me her story. Instead she is encouraging me to listen to other voices trying to break through, to other people with stories they wish me to tell. As I have always told my creative writing students, the first task of a storyteller is to be receptive, to quiet your everyday mind-chatter enough to listen to who or what is coming to you.
So are there other voices trying to break through to me? Very much so, from long ago times and faraway places that I know little about. But I am listening.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have been so supportive, who have bought books, who have been part of the wonderful gatherings, audiences and classes where I have been privileged to share Lily's story. Those occasions have always resulted in such lively and deeply moving question-and-answer sessions at the end. One of the most frequently asked questions is one that I address in the Preface to the book: who was Lily, the very first Lily, to me?
My answer is always the same. I do not know. This book is not autobiographical. It is officially categorized as a work of fiction. But is it? I do not know. As I say in the Preface, Lily began whispering her story to me in snippets of rhymed, metered poetry many years ago on my morning walk. She was very insistent that I tell her story, which I did as a requested performance at a banquet for Chabad of the Valley many years ago. And when I returned to the story more than a decade later to prepare it for publication, Lily began whispering to me again, fleshing out her tale beyond what could fit into a fifteen minute reading at the banquet. So who was Lily to me? I do not know, but she was someone, and she is very real to me. She is lodged somewhere deep inside my soul.
This answer often leads to an intriguing follow-up question, usually asked by people who themselves want to write: does Lily still talk to me? At first the question caught me off guard. I really had to think about it. Had I heard from Lily since I brought the book out into the world? And the answer, I realized, is yes, she does come to me occasionally. But now she is no longer telling me her story. Instead she is encouraging me to listen to other voices trying to break through, to other people with stories they wish me to tell. As I have always told my creative writing students, the first task of a storyteller is to be receptive, to quiet your everyday mind-chatter enough to listen to who or what is coming to you.
So are there other voices trying to break through to me? Very much so, from long ago times and faraway places that I know little about. But I am listening.

This heartfelt saga in verse form is about five generations of women’s journeys from Russia’s persecuting pogroms of the 1890s to America during the 2000s, including Ellis Island and New York’s Lower East Side sweatshops.

The story is broken up into five parts, one for each of the women’s generation. The story begins and ends with Lily. Laili is a young girl who flees Russia during the pogrom of 1890’s that persecuted Jews. Her name changed to Lily on Ellis Island. Part Two tells the tale of Lily’s daughter, Molly, who unlike her mother, survives the fire in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. Molly’s daughter, Lily, grows up during the Great Depression of the 1930s, but fortune smiles on her and she marries and has a daughter, Maxine whose tale about growing up in the 60s is told in Part Four. Maxine’s daughter Lily reaps the benefit of modern day America. But she acknowledges that her good fortune came about because of all the sacrifice and perseverance of the spirited women before her who had dreams of a better life—free of discrimination and persecution for being Jewish.
Author Xianna Michaels wastes no time diving into the theme of persecution and hope, with the first stanza explaining how the pogrom, and the attack on her mother and infant brother led to Lily and her sister, Basya, being sent on a ship, To the Goldene Medina, where life/Is free of fear and blood and strife. Michaels effectively gets to the crux of each story, maintaining the fast flow as all five generations of women trying to find their new identity while maintaining and learning about their Jewish heritage. Michaels reveals how life improves for each generation by infusing details that are also historical milestones—such as the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire that kills Molly’s mother and the mention of the G.I. Bill.
While the ababcc rhythm limits the narrative at times for the sake of rhyming, it works well at times to create a juxtaposition of light rhyme and heavy content during some of the heavier descriptions—including in the last two lines of the stanza: It was ninety two, the end had come/For this was Laili’s last pogrom. Though some of the descriptions to accommodate the rhyming scheme are simplified and don’t expound on the themes and details as much as they could; it makes this story suitable for a younger audience, and can be a spring board into rich discussion on themes about numerous events in history including Jewish immigrants in America and how they influence in New York’s culture.
Lily of The Valley—An American Jewish Journey is a beautiful tribute, not only to America—a land of opportunity and hope—but also to family, love and human spirit.
Read the full review here at San Francisco Book Review.

The story is broken up into five parts, one for each of the women’s generation. The story begins and ends with Lily. Laili is a young girl who flees Russia during the pogrom of 1890’s that persecuted Jews. Her name changed to Lily on Ellis Island. Part Two tells the tale of Lily’s daughter, Molly, who unlike her mother, survives the fire in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. Molly’s daughter, Lily, grows up during the Great Depression of the 1930s, but fortune smiles on her and she marries and has a daughter, Maxine whose tale about growing up in the 60s is told in Part Four. Maxine’s daughter Lily reaps the benefit of modern day America. But she acknowledges that her good fortune came about because of all the sacrifice and perseverance of the spirited women before her who had dreams of a better life—free of discrimination and persecution for being Jewish.
Author Xianna Michaels wastes no time diving into the theme of persecution and hope, with the first stanza explaining how the pogrom, and the attack on her mother and infant brother led to Lily and her sister, Basya, being sent on a ship, To the Goldene Medina, where life/Is free of fear and blood and strife. Michaels effectively gets to the crux of each story, maintaining the fast flow as all five generations of women trying to find their new identity while maintaining and learning about their Jewish heritage. Michaels reveals how life improves for each generation by infusing details that are also historical milestones—such as the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire that kills Molly’s mother and the mention of the G.I. Bill.
While the ababcc rhythm limits the narrative at times for the sake of rhyming, it works well at times to create a juxtaposition of light rhyme and heavy content during some of the heavier descriptions—including in the last two lines of the stanza: It was ninety two, the end had come/For this was Laili’s last pogrom. Though some of the descriptions to accommodate the rhyming scheme are simplified and don’t expound on the themes and details as much as they could; it makes this story suitable for a younger audience, and can be a spring board into rich discussion on themes about numerous events in history including Jewish immigrants in America and how they influence in New York’s culture.
Lily of The Valley—An American Jewish Journey is a beautiful tribute, not only to America—a land of opportunity and hope—but also to family, love and human spirit.
Read the full review here at San Francisco Book Review.

One of the great joys for me in creating my new book, Lily of the Valley—An American Jewish Journey, was doing the artwork. This allowed me to explore my love of history—particularly as it pertains to the gradual changes in

everyday life—and the symbolism that Lily holds for me, as well as to indulge a bit of whimsy.
This book is the story of five generations of American Jewish women, and each of the five parts begins with a border vignette depicting the time in which that particular character lived. The vignettes are meant to enhance the story, set a mood, and draw the reader in, somewhat in the way that a film score does for a movie. In addition it is my hope that the drawings provide a certain delight for the eye. Books for adults are not illustrated the way children's books are, and yet I think we never really outgrow our enjoyment of the visual.
And so the border for "Part I— Lily" shows the Statue of Liberty with the approaching ship, then a scene from the Lower East Side at the beginning of the 20th Century.  "Part II—Molly" depicts the era from World War I through the 20's, including the soldier, the trolley and the lady in the cloche hat. In "Part III—Lily" fashion has changed dramatically, and there's a car in front of the suburban home. I drew the World War II soldier from a picture of my father, of blessed memory, in his uniform. "Part IV—Maxine" is the age of flower power, as well as the beginning of the return to observant Judaism for Maxine and many others, and "Part V—Lily" depicts modern day Los Angeles.
The vignettes at the bottom of each border give rise to all manner of lilies, including lilies of the valley. In the border for Part I the symbolism is clear, as the flame of hope in the torch  of the Statue of Liberty, as well as the flames of the tragic factory fire, transform into the leaves and flowers. And the early borders hint at palm trees, a nod to one of the first Lily's dreams. By the end the Southern California foliage shows the dream come to fruition.
The front book cover came from a vision I had of the title rising from the flower of its name in full bloom, and the back cover in a way symbolically tells the whole story. It begins with flames—a pogrom, a factory fire. The flames transform into flowers, to lilies, as Lily's dreams take hold, and then on the top the palm leaves come together, as do all the aspects of the first Lily's dreams for her family. I loved creating that back cover!
I also enjoyed doing the decorative initials that begin each part of the book. They harken back to medieval manuscripts, when almost all stories were told as poems. But they also are meant to be evocative of the passage of time. The sewing machine in Part I was cutting edge technology at the turn of the 20th Century, and the flames foreshadow tragedy to come. The candlestick phone and radio in Part II are more of the latest technology, as is the television in Part III. Part IV brings the psychedelic Sixties, and Part V evokes the 21st Century, complete with iPhone, high heels in the workplace, and a nod to the Twin Towers. I fully enjoyed doing these initials. Besides the process of drawing, I felt like I was creating stories within the larger story.
Finally, I indulged a bit of whimsy with the endpapers. As with all hard covered books, these are the folded sheets with one half glued to the inside of the front cover and the other forming the first free page of the book. The back endpapers do the same in reverse. I love to create scenes for my endpapers. Lily of the Valley shows a melange of images from the old-time San Fernando Valley, including a horse and cart, an old adobe house and a general store. Then there is the roadway lined with bell markers identifying El Camino Real, the original trail of Spanish missions. That eventually became the 101 Freeway and today is known as Ventura Boulevard, the longest contiguous stretch of businesses in the world. And then there's the house with the gate nestled somewhere above the Hollywoodland sign. Perhaps some of my readers might recognize it!
There is a special magic for me in transferring a vision I have in my mind onto the page with pen and ink. This is especially true because, while I have been writing poems and stories all of my life, I did not begin drawing until I was in my 40's. That's a story in itself, but suffice it to say that discovering I could draw was a surprise that continues to be a source of delight for me. I hope I have communicated some of that delight to the readers of Lily of the Valley.

everyday life—and the symbolism that Lily holds for me, as well as to indulge a bit of whimsy.
This book is the story of five generations of American Jewish women, and each of the five parts begins with a border vignette depicting the time in which that particular character lived. The vignettes are meant to enhance the story, set a mood, and draw the reader in, somewhat in the way that a film score does for a movie. In addition it is my hope that the drawings provide a certain delight for the eye. Books for adults are not illustrated the way children's books are, and yet I think we never really outgrow our enjoyment of the visual.
And so the border for "Part I— Lily" shows the Statue of Liberty with the approaching ship, then a scene from the Lower East Side at the beginning of the 20th Century.  "Part II—Molly" depicts the era from World War I through the 20's, including the soldier, the trolley and the lady in the cloche hat. In "Part III—Lily" fashion has changed dramatically, and there's a car in front of the suburban home. I drew the World War II soldier from a picture of my father, of blessed memory, in his uniform. "Part IV—Maxine" is the age of flower power, as well as the beginning of the return to observant Judaism for Maxine and many others, and "Part V—Lily" depicts modern day Los Angeles.
The vignettes at the bottom of each border give rise to all manner of lilies, including lilies of the valley. In the border for Part I the symbolism is clear, as the flame of hope in the torch  of the Statue of Liberty, as well as the flames of the tragic factory fire, transform into the leaves and flowers. And the early borders hint at palm trees, a nod to one of the first Lily's dreams. By the end the Southern California foliage shows the dream come to fruition.
The front book cover came from a vision I had of the title rising from the flower of its name in full bloom, and the back cover in a way symbolically tells the whole story. It begins with flames—a pogrom, a factory fire. The flames transform into flowers, to lilies, as Lily's dreams take hold, and then on the top the palm leaves come together, as do all the aspects of the first Lily's dreams for her family. I loved creating that back cover!
I also enjoyed doing the decorative initials that begin each part of the book. They harken back to medieval manuscripts, when almost all stories were told as poems. But they also are meant to be evocative of the passage of time. The sewing machine in Part I was cutting edge technology at the turn of the 20th Century, and the flames foreshadow tragedy to come. The candlestick phone and radio in Part II are more of the latest technology, as is the television in Part III. Part IV brings the psychedelic Sixties, and Part V evokes the 21st Century, complete with iPhone, high heels in the workplace, and a nod to the Twin Towers. I fully enjoyed doing these initials. Besides the process of drawing, I felt like I was creating stories within the larger story.
Finally, I indulged a bit of whimsy with the endpapers. As with all hard covered books, these are the folded sheets with one half glued to the inside of the front cover and the other forming the first free page of the book. The back endpapers do the same in reverse. I love to create scenes for my endpapers. Lily of the Valley shows a melange of images from the old-time San Fernando Valley, including a horse and cart, an old adobe house and a general store. Then there is the roadway lined with bell markers identifying El Camino Real, the original trail of Spanish missions. That eventually became the 101 Freeway and today is known as Ventura Boulevard, the longest contiguous stretch of businesses in the world. And then there's the house with the gate nestled somewhere above the Hollywoodland sign. Perhaps some of my readers might recognize it!
There is a special magic for me in transferring a vision I have in my mind onto the page with pen and ink. This is especially true because, while I have been writing poems and stories all of my life, I did not begin drawing until I was in my 40's. That's a story in itself, but suffice it to say that discovering I could draw was a surprise that continues to be a source of delight for me. I hope I have communicated some of that delight to the readers of Lily of the Valley.

A verse narrative follows the fortunes of a Jewish family through five generations after it immigrates to the United States.

In 1892, a Russian Jewish couple suffer a horrifying loss when their baby is murdered by Cossacks in a pogrom. They send their two remaining children, Basya and Laili, to the United States, because “in America everyone has a chance.” With their names changed to Bess and Lily at Ellis Island, the girls toil in a Lower East Side sweatshop. Lily dreams of making beautiful clothes for rich women and moving to warm, sunny Southern California, but realizes “Not for Lily’s family, no. / But a grandchild, maybe, one day would go.” Her daughters, Molly and Anna, join her at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company, where the girls survive the factory’s notorious fire, but their mother dies. Through two world wars and the Great Depression, Molly and her husband, Max, work hard and better their circumstances. Their daughter Lily and her husband prosper, sending their daughter Maxine to college. Not very religiously observant up till then, Maxine is drawn to the Chabad movement and Orthodox Judaism. She marries young and has five children while getting her Ph.D. in costume history, and fulfills her grandmother’s dream by moving to Los Angeles County’s San Fernando Valley. Maxine’s daughter Lily continues the family interest in fashion and style by starting her own clothing line (“Lily of the Valley”) after marrying and having children. Michaels (Mindel and the Misfit Dragons, 2014) offers a gorgeously designed and illustrated book, though its appearance may outweigh its entirely familiar story (Ellis Island, sweatshops, world wars, reclamation of one’s heritage). Still, it’s told with verve and a pleasing sense of things coming out right. Michaels employs an English sestet form that works well; it’s short enough to keep things moving, while the ABABCC structure lends an air of finality to each stanza. The rhyme and the sometimes singsong rhythm might make this seem a children’s book, but the content isn’t always kid-friendly: “[The Cossacks] stomped on the baby and slashed Mama’s side.”
A beautiful volume that tells a classic American story.
Read full review here at Kirkus Reviews.

In 1892, a Russian Jewish couple suffer a horrifying loss when their baby is murdered by Cossacks in a pogrom. They send their two remaining children, Basya and Laili, to the United States, because “in America everyone has a chance.” With their names changed to Bess and Lily at Ellis Island, the girls toil in a Lower East Side sweatshop. Lily dreams of making beautiful clothes for rich women and moving to warm, sunny Southern California, but realizes “Not for Lily’s family, no. / But a grandchild, maybe, one day would go.” Her daughters, Molly and Anna, join her at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company, where the girls survive the factory’s notorious fire, but their mother dies. Through two world wars and the Great Depression, Molly and her husband, Max, work hard and better their circumstances. Their daughter Lily and her husband prosper, sending their daughter Maxine to college. Not very religiously observant up till then, Maxine is drawn to the Chabad movement and Orthodox Judaism. She marries young and has five children while getting her Ph.D. in costume history, and fulfills her grandmother’s dream by moving to Los Angeles County’s San Fernando Valley. Maxine’s daughter Lily continues the family interest in fashion and style by starting her own clothing line (“Lily of the Valley”) after marrying and having children. Michaels (Mindel and the Misfit Dragons, 2014) offers a gorgeously designed and illustrated book, though its appearance may outweigh its entirely familiar story (Ellis Island, sweatshops, world wars, reclamation of one’s heritage). Still, it’s told with verve and a pleasing sense of things coming out right. Michaels employs an English sestet form that works well; it’s short enough to keep things moving, while the ABABCC structure lends an air of finality to each stanza. The rhyme and the sometimes singsong rhythm might make this seem a children’s book, but the content isn’t always kid-friendly: “[The Cossacks] stomped on the baby and slashed Mama’s side.”
A beautiful volume that tells a classic American story.
Read full review here at Kirkus Reviews.

Today is the official launch date of my new book, Lily of the Valley—An American Jewish Journey. I am truly thrilled to be sharing this book with everyone, and what more fitting day for me personally to introduce you to Lily?

I don't just mean Lily, the book, but Lily the woman, the first of five generations of strong, resilient women who held tightly to dreams passed from mother to daughter for those five generations.
People ask writers all the time where their ideas come from, and there may be as many answers as there are books. Every writer has his or her own process, and every book its own path. Usually as I write a story the characters live inside of me for all the months—or even years—that it takes me to tell their story. Then they rather gracefully bow out, making way for the next group of people, the next narrative, that will fill my consciousness.
But Lily is different. From the moment she came to me she has been part of me. It's as if she lives deep inside of me. But who is Lily?
Perhaps I ought to start at the beginning. Many years ago on my daily morning walk I began to hear snippets of a story coming in rhymed poetry. It was as if a little bird were sitting on my shoulder, whispering to me. Her name was Lily. She had barely survived a pogrom in Eastern Europe and her parents put her on a ship bound for the Goldene Medina, the Golden Land; America, the land of freedom and the promise of a better life. She came here, toiled in a sweatshop and dreamed. She dreamed of designing beautiful gowns, and of a golden valley way out West,
" ...the place of palms and a mountain pass
That led to a sun- drenched valley floor
With walnut groves and golden grass—
Open space, an open door,
And unlike the valley of her birth,
Without the blood that soaked the earth."
(Part I - Lily)
Lily knew that her dreams would not be fulfilled in her lifetime, but she held fast to them for her daughter, her granddaughter, for all those who would come. Everyday I would return from my walk and write down what she told me. But I had no idea what to do with any of it. And then I got a call from Ruchie Stillman, who was coordinating the banquet for Chabad of the Valley in Encino, California, under the direction of Rabbi Joshua Gordon, of blessed memory, and his wife Deborah. They asked if I would step in at the last minute to perform a fifteen minute poem for the banquet. I had no idea how I could pull off such a thing in just a few days. Then I remembered Lily, whispering in my ear. Lily, who so much wanted to be heard. It was Ruchie who helped me realize that her story—about pursuing the American Dream while losing the connection to observant Judaism and then coming back—was ultimately a Chabad story.
The story started pouring out of me. I wrote at home, on my morning walk, in elevators, in the car. Lily talked and I transcribed, then later pared and polished and created a poem that I could perform. When I finished my reading of "Lily of the Valley" at the banquet, people asked it they could buy a copy, but I knew it wasn't time.
When I returned to Lily more than a decade later, she began whispering to me again, fleshing out her story beyond what could fit into a fifteen minute reading. But who is Lily to me? Who is she that even after all these years I cry every time I read or write or even talk about her and her dreams? The dreams that wouldn't die, even when she did, even if they took generations to fulfill? Who is Lily?
I do not know.
One reviewer thought she was my grandmother. Not so. This book is not autobiographical. Lily came here a generation before my grandmothers and her story is different. There are parallels in this book with my family's history, just as I'm sure there are parallels for many people whose ancestors came here through Ellis Island, desperate and hopeful, seeking a better life. But this is a work of fiction; it is not my story. It is Lily's and that of the women who came after her. Yet my connection is soul-deep.
I do not know who Lily was, but I do know that in many ways this book is my love letter to America, the Golden Land that rescued Lily from a life of fear, persecution and near destitution, just as it did my grandparents. It is a land that promised—and still promises—immigrants from all over that if they work hard, their children's lives will be better; that pursuing the American Dream does not mean having to give up worshipping G-d in the way of their ancestors, the way of their conscience.
I have published Lily's story now in part as my way of expressing my gratitude to the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, of blessed memory. I thank the Rebbe for his beautiful teachings and many blessings, that have helped set the trajectory of my life. It is a sad irony for me that Rabbi Joshua Gordon, whose long-ago request helped bring Lily to life, tragically passed away just weeks before the publication of this book.
And I share this story now because I've known from the beginning, all those years ago, that Lily's story is meant to touch other lives in the way she has touched mine. I am honored that she chose me to tell her story. I hope that I have done right by her, and that my readers will enjoy her story, and perhaps be inspired, all over again, by the American Dream that we all share.

I don't just mean Lily, the book, but Lily the woman, the first of five generations of strong, resilient women who held tightly to dreams passed from mother to daughter for those five generations.
People ask writers all the time where their ideas come from, and there may be as many answers as there are books. Every writer has his or her own process, and every book its own path. Usually as I write a story the characters live inside of me for all the months—or even years—that it takes me to tell their story. Then they rather gracefully bow out, making way for the next group of people, the next narrative, that will fill my consciousness.
But Lily is different. From the moment she came to me she has been part of me. It's as if she lives deep inside of me. But who is Lily?
Perhaps I ought to start at the beginning. Many years ago on my daily morning walk I began to hear snippets of a story coming in rhymed poetry. It was as if a little bird were sitting on my shoulder, whispering to me. Her name was Lily. She had barely survived a pogrom in Eastern Europe and her parents put her on a ship bound for the Goldene Medina, the Golden Land; America, the land of freedom and the promise of a better life. She came here, toiled in a sweatshop and dreamed. She dreamed of designing beautiful gowns, and of a golden valley way out West,
" ...the place of palms and a mountain pass
That led to a sun- drenched valley floor
With walnut groves and golden grass—
Open space, an open door,
And unlike the valley of her birth,
Without the blood that soaked the earth."
(Part I - Lily)
Lily knew that her dreams would not be fulfilled in her lifetime, but she held fast to them for her daughter, her granddaughter, for all those who would come. Everyday I would return from my walk and write down what she told me. But I had no idea what to do with any of it. And then I got a call from Ruchie Stillman, who was coordinating the banquet for Chabad of the Valley in Encino, California, under the direction of Rabbi Joshua Gordon, of blessed memory, and his wife Deborah. They asked if I would step in at the last minute to perform a fifteen minute poem for the banquet. I had no idea how I could pull off such a thing in just a few days. Then I remembered Lily, whispering in my ear. Lily, who so much wanted to be heard. It was Ruchie who helped me realize that her story—about pursuing the American Dream while losing the connection to observant Judaism and then coming back—was ultimately a Chabad story.
The story started pouring out of me. I wrote at home, on my morning walk, in elevators, in the car. Lily talked and I transcribed, then later pared and polished and created a poem that I could perform. When I finished my reading of "Lily of the Valley" at the banquet, people asked it they could buy a copy, but I knew it wasn't time.
When I returned to Lily more than a decade later, she began whispering to me again, fleshing out her story beyond what could fit into a fifteen minute reading. But who is Lily to me? Who is she that even after all these years I cry every time I read or write or even talk about her and her dreams? The dreams that wouldn't die, even when she did, even if they took generations to fulfill? Who is Lily?
I do not know.
One reviewer thought she was my grandmother. Not so. This book is not autobiographical. Lily came here a generation before my grandmothers and her story is different. There are parallels in this book with my family's history, just as I'm sure there are parallels for many people whose ancestors came here through Ellis Island, desperate and hopeful, seeking a better life. But this is a work of fiction; it is not my story. It is Lily's and that of the women who came after her. Yet my connection is soul-deep.
I do not know who Lily was, but I do know that in many ways this book is my love letter to America, the Golden Land that rescued Lily from a life of fear, persecution and near destitution, just as it did my grandparents. It is a land that promised—and still promises—immigrants from all over that if they work hard, their children's lives will be better; that pursuing the American Dream does not mean having to give up worshipping G-d in the way of their ancestors, the way of their conscience.
I have published Lily's story now in part as my way of expressing my gratitude to the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, of blessed memory. I thank the Rebbe for his beautiful teachings and many blessings, that have helped set the trajectory of my life. It is a sad irony for me that Rabbi Joshua Gordon, whose long-ago request helped bring Lily to life, tragically passed away just weeks before the publication of this book.
And I share this story now because I've known from the beginning, all those years ago, that Lily's story is meant to touch other lives in the way she has touched mine. I am honored that she chose me to tell her story. I hope that I have done right by her, and that my readers will enjoy her story, and perhaps be inspired, all over again, by the American Dream that we all share.

Today is the official launch date of my new book, Lily of the Valley—An American Jewish Journey. I am truly thrilled to be sharing this book with everyone, and what more fitting day for me personally to introduce you to Lily?

I don’t just mean Lily, the book, but Lily the woman, the first of five generations of strong, resilient women who held tightly to dreams passed from mother to daughter for those five generations.

People ask writers all the time where their ideas come from, and there may be as many answers as there are books. Every writer has his or her own process, and every book its own path. Usually as I write a story the characters live inside of me for all the months—or even years—that it takes me to tell their story. Then they rather gracefully bow out, making way for the next group of people, the next narrative, that will fill my consciousness.

But Lily is different. From the moment she came to me she has been part of me. It’s as if she lives deep inside of me. But who is Lily?

Perhaps I ought to start at the beginning. Many years ago on my daily morning walk I began to hear snippets of a story coming in rhymed poetry. It was as if a little bird were sitting on my shoulder, whispering to me. Her name was Lily. She had barely survived a pogrom in Eastern Europe and her parents put her on a ship bound for the Goldene Medina, the Golden Land; America, the land of freedom and the promise of a better life. She came here, toiled in a sweatshop and dreamed. She dreamed of designing beautiful gowns, and of a golden valley way out West,

” …the place of palms and a mountain pass
That led to a sun- drenched valley floor
With walnut groves and golden grass—
Open space, an open door,
And unlike the valley of her birth,
Without the blood that soaked the earth.”
(Part I – Lily)

Lily knew that her dreams would not be fulfilled in her lifetime, but she held fast to them for her daughter, her granddaughter, for all those who would come. Everyday I would return from my walk and write down what she told me. But I had no idea what to do with any of it. And then I got a call from Ruchie Stillman, who was coordinating the banquet for Chabad of the Valley in Encino, California, under the direction of Rabbi Joshua Gordon, of blessed memory, and his wife Deborah. They asked if I would step in at the last minute to perform a fifteen minute poem for the banquet. I had no idea how I could pull off such a thing in just a few days. Then I remembered Lily, whispering in my ear. Lily, who so much wanted to be heard. It was Ruchie who helped me realize that her story—about pursuing the American Dream while losing the connection to observant Judaism and then coming back—was ultimately a Chabad story.

The story started pouring out of me. I wrote at home, on my morning walk, in elevators, in the car. Lily talked and I transcribed, then later pared and polished and created a poem that I could perform. When I finished my reading of “Lily of the Valley” at the banquet, people asked if they could buy a copy, but I knew it wasn’t time.

When I returned to Lily more than a decade later, she began whispering to me again, fleshing out her story beyond what could fit into a fifteen minute reading. But who is Lily to me? Who is she that even after all these years I cry every time I read or write or even talk about her and her dreams? The dreams that wouldn’t die, even when she did, even if they took generations to fulfill? Who is Lily?

I do not know.

One reviewer thought she was my grandmother. Not so. This book is not autobiographical. Lily came here a generation before my grandmothers and her story is different. There are parallels in this book with my family’s history, just as I’m sure there are parallels for many people whose ancestors came here through Ellis Island, desperate and hopeful, seeking a better life. But this is a work of fiction; it is not my story. It is Lily’s and that of the women who came after her. Yet my connection is soul-deep.

I do not know who Lily was, but I do know that in many ways this book is my love letter to America, the Golden Land that rescued Lily from a life of fear, persecution and near destitution, just as it did my grandparents. It is a land that promised—and still promises—immigrants from all over that if they work hard, their children’s lives will be better; that pursuing the American Dream does not mean having to give up worshipping G-d in the way of their ancestors, the way of their conscience.

I have published Lily’s story now in part as my way of expressing my gratitude to the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, of blessed memory. I thank the Rebbe for his beautiful teachings and many blessings, that have helped set the trajectory of my life. It is a sad irony for me that Rabbi Joshua Gordon, whose long-ago request helped bring Lily to life, tragically passed away just weeks before the publication of this book.

And I share this story now because I’ve known from the beginning, all those years ago, that Lily’s story is meant to touch other lives in the way she has touched mine. I am honored that she chose me to tell her story. I hope that I have done right by her, and that my readers will enjoy her story, and perhaps be inspired, all over again, by the American Dream that we all share.

I don’t just mean Lily, the book, but Lily the woman, the first of five generations of strong, resilient women who held tightly to dreams passed from mother to daughter for those five generations.

People ask writers all the time where their ideas come from, and there may be as many answers as there are books. Every writer has his or her own process, and every book its own path. Usually as I write a story the characters live inside of me for all the months—or even years—that it takes me to tell their story. Then they rather gracefully bow out, making way for the next group of people, the next narrative, that will fill my consciousness.

But Lily is different. From the moment she came to me she has been part of me. It’s as if she lives deep inside of me. But who is Lily?

Perhaps I ought to start at the beginning. Many years ago on my daily morning walk I began to hear snippets of a story coming in rhymed poetry. It was as if a little bird were sitting on my shoulder, whispering to me. Her name was Lily. She had barely survived a pogrom in Eastern Europe and her parents put her on a ship bound for the Goldene Medina, the Golden Land; America, the land of freedom and the promise of a better life. She came here, toiled in a sweatshop and dreamed. She dreamed of designing beautiful gowns, and of a golden valley way out West,

” …the place of palms and a mountain pass
That led to a sun- drenched valley floor
With walnut groves and golden grass—
Open space, an open door,
And unlike the valley of her birth,
Without the blood that soaked the earth.”
(Part I – Lily)

Lily knew that her dreams would not be fulfilled in her lifetime, but she held fast to them for her daughter, her granddaughter, for all those who would come. Everyday I would return from my walk and write down what she told me. But I had no idea what to do with any of it. And then I got a call from Ruchie Stillman, who was coordinating the banquet for Chabad of the Valley in Encino, California, under the direction of Rabbi Joshua Gordon, of blessed memory, and his wife Deborah. They asked if I would step in at the last minute to perform a fifteen minute poem for the banquet. I had no idea how I could pull off such a thing in just a few days. Then I remembered Lily, whispering in my ear. Lily, who so much wanted to be heard. It was Ruchie who helped me realize that her story—about pursuing the American Dream while losing the connection to observant Judaism and then coming back—was ultimately a Chabad story.

The story started pouring out of me. I wrote at home, on my morning walk, in elevators, in the car. Lily talked and I transcribed, then later pared and polished and created a poem that I could perform. When I finished my reading of “Lily of the Valley” at the banquet, people asked if they could buy a copy, but I knew it wasn’t time.

When I returned to Lily more than a decade later, she began whispering to me again, fleshing out her story beyond what could fit into a fifteen minute reading. But who is Lily to me? Who is she that even after all these years I cry every time I read or write or even talk about her and her dreams? The dreams that wouldn’t die, even when she did, even if they took generations to fulfill? Who is Lily?

I do not know.

One reviewer thought she was my grandmother. Not so. This book is not autobiographical. Lily came here a generation before my grandmothers and her story is different. There are parallels in this book with my family’s history, just as I’m sure there are parallels for many people whose ancestors came here through Ellis Island, desperate and hopeful, seeking a better life. But this is a work of fiction; it is not my story. It is Lily’s and that of the women who came after her. Yet my connection is soul-deep.

I do not know who Lily was, but I do know that in many ways this book is my love letter to America, the Golden Land that rescued Lily from a life of fear, persecution and near destitution, just as it did my grandparents. It is a land that promised—and still promises—immigrants from all over that if they work hard, their children’s lives will be better; that pursuing the American Dream does not mean having to give up worshipping G-d in the way of their ancestors, the way of their conscience.

I have published Lily’s story now in part as my way of expressing my gratitude to the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, of blessed memory. I thank the Rebbe for his beautiful teachings and many blessings, that have helped set the trajectory of my life. It is a sad irony for me that Rabbi Joshua Gordon, whose long-ago request helped bring Lily to life, tragically passed away just weeks before the publication of this book.

And I share this story now because I’ve known from the beginning, all those years ago, that Lily’s story is meant to touch other lives in the way she has touched mine. I am honored that she chose me to tell her story. I hope that I have done right by her, and that my readers will enjoy her story, and perhaps be inspired, all over again, by the American Dream that we all share.

Lily of the Valley is an elegantly bound poetic volume that celebrates the varied inheritances of Jewish American women with poignancy.

Lily of the Valley is Xianna Michaels’s graceful and affecting poetic saga, the story of five generations of Jewish American women navigating the promises of the New World.

The volume opens on a pogrom that rips through a shtetl, rending families irrevocably. Young Laili is sent with her her sister Basya to New York, with the hope that they’ll be able to enjoy more freedoms there. Laili’s name is anglicized by Ellis Island officials; now known as “Lily,” she finds work in a sweatshop sewing clothing. As she sews, she dreams of an easier life for her children, preferably in the golden valleys of the West.

Though tragedies continue to fall upon her family—a shop fire kills one matriarch; a son abandons his tradition and family to pursue life on his own; a daughter returns to Europe, too near to the Holocaust for safety—so, too, do the generations that follow Lily find their fortunes in America increasing. They become business owners, college graduates, parents, and the pursuers of old family dreams. Their Judaism ebbs and flows in proportion to the challenges they face—work on Shabbat gives way to the avoidance of the mikveh, compromises are made with the observance of mitzvot, especially around kashrut. Yet through it all, they maintain a sense of connection to their tradition, and to the family members who sacrificed so much to provide them with opportunities.

Lily of the Valley is written in English sestet form, a rhyme scheme that initially requires some getting used to; the violence of the opening pogrom fits uneasily with the apparent jauntiness of the poetic formula. Conjunctions are employed a bit too freely, and not every end rhyme is a comfortable fit. Related misgivings give way beneath the charm of Michaels’s verses, though. These lines breathe life into the women they focus on: the first Lily is a determined dreamer, her daughter Molly a believer, her daughter Lily a stylish girl who dusts off family aspirations. Each woman, in the limited lines allotted to her, is fleshed out well, particularly in relation to the decisions she makes around religious observance.

The intrafamily loyalty and support conveyed throughout Lily of the Valley is inspirational without being cloying, and the book moves from generation to generation with significant emotional prowess. This book is impressive for the balances it strikes: managing to be feminist, even as Lily’s great-granddaughter moves back toward observance, to the surprised delight of her nonobservant family; achieving a well-rounded picture of Jewish American history, though in the span of a few stanzas each on just fifty pages. The end result is a project certain to woo readers with its loveliness. Its beautiful, classic packaging, paired with the delicate, scene-setting illustrations that run throughout, make the project an all the more likely candidate for family treasure status.

Lily of the Valley is an elegantly bound poetic volume that celebrates the varied inheritances of Jewish American women with poignancy.

Reviewed by Michelle Anne Schingler
February 10, 2016

Read full review here on Forward Reviews.

Lily of the Valley is Xianna Michaels’s graceful and affecting poetic saga, the story of five generations of Jewish American women navigating the promises of the New World.

The volume opens on a pogrom that rips through a shtetl, rending families irrevocably. Young Laili is sent with her her sister Basya to New York, with the hope that they’ll be able to enjoy more freedoms there. Laili’s name is anglicized by Ellis Island officials; now known as “Lily,” she finds work in a sweatshop sewing clothing. As she sews, she dreams of an easier life for her children, preferably in the golden valleys of the West.

Though tragedies continue to fall upon her family—a shop fire kills one matriarch; a son abandons his tradition and family to pursue life on his own; a daughter returns to Europe, too near to the Holocaust for safety—so, too, do the generations that follow Lily find their fortunes in America increasing. They become business owners, college graduates, parents, and the pursuers of old family dreams. Their Judaism ebbs and flows in proportion to the challenges they face—work on Shabbat gives way to the avoidance of the mikveh, compromises are made with the observance of mitzvot, especially around kashrut. Yet through it all, they maintain a sense of connection to their tradition, and to the family members who sacrificed so much to provide them with opportunities.

Lily of the Valley is written in English sestet form, a rhyme scheme that initially requires some getting used to; the violence of the opening pogrom fits uneasily with the apparent jauntiness of the poetic formula. Conjunctions are employed a bit too freely, and not every end rhyme is a comfortable fit. Related misgivings give way beneath the charm of Michaels’s verses, though. These lines breathe life into the women they focus on: the first Lily is a determined dreamer, her daughter Molly a believer, her daughter Lily a stylish girl who dusts off family aspirations. Each woman, in the limited lines allotted to her, is fleshed out well, particularly in relation to the decisions she makes around religious observance.

The intrafamily loyalty and support conveyed throughout Lily of the Valley is inspirational without being cloying, and the book moves from generation to generation with significant emotional prowess. This book is impressive for the balances it strikes: managing to be feminist, even as Lily’s great-granddaughter moves back toward observance, to the surprised delight of her nonobservant family; achieving a well-rounded picture of Jewish American history, though in the span of a few stanzas each on just fifty pages. The end result is a project certain to woo readers with its loveliness. Its beautiful, classic packaging, paired with the delicate, scene-setting illustrations that run throughout, make the project an all the more likely candidate for family treasure status.

Lily of the Valley is an elegantly bound poetic volume that celebrates the varied inheritances of Jewish American women with poignancy.

Reviewed by Michelle Anne Schingler
February 10, 2016

Read full review here on Forward Reviews.

From time to time I’ll share a poem I’ve written for children, often from the child’s point of view.

I wrote this poem for a workshop I did for a class of third grade girls. I wanted to make them smile – and teach them iambic tetrameter!
Girls
Melissa schemes and Katie plays
And Mindy dreams away the days.
Emma reads and Lizzie writes;
Corrine keeps peach and Cindy fights.
Elaine is brave and Ruth’s afraid –
It takes all kinds to make third grade.

I wrote this poem for a workshop I did for a class of third grade girls. I wanted to make them smile – and teach them iambic tetrameter!
Girls
Melissa schemes and Katie plays
And Mindy dreams away the days.
Emma reads and Lizzie writes;
Corrine keeps peach and Cindy fights.
Elaine is brave and Ruth’s afraid –
It takes all kinds to make third grade.