Somewhere in Nowhere
Finding Yourself In-Between
Editor’s Note: Steven Gellman’s Somewhere in Nowhere is a moving YA coming-of-age story that doesn’t hold back in its honest exploration of mental health (anxiety), queer identity, and complex family dynamics. The plot takes a very unexpected turn (no spoilers). While it is clear that the main character, Simon, is Jewish, it is in the shiva scenes that the book delves most deeply into Jewish thought, customs, and identity with detailed descriptions and emotions that will resonate for many. There is grief, trauma, loss, abuse, and fear, but it’s love, faith, and the deep bonds of found family that help Simon find his way home.
Somewhere in Nowhere by Steven Gellman, Ninestar Press, LLC, 14 April 2026.
Excerpt reproduced with permission from the author.
Excerpt
In the Jewish tradition, you are supposed to observe shiva for a week. In our family, we are sitting Shiva Lite by only observing for two days and two nights. It’s meant to be a time of mourning to discuss the loss and accept comfort from family and friends. Mirrors and framed photographs are covered, and that’s what Carole, PJ, and I are currently doing as we prepare the apartment to receive guests. It’s good to be back home and to be dry. I don’t speak much, feeling foolish for how I behaved at the gravesite, but PJ and Carole make small talk.
“Carole, why are we covering the mirrors?” PJ asks.
“I was always told it’s so we don’t see the pain on our faces. I guess all these customs must seem odd to you, PJ.”
“A bit, I guess, but not that much. My family is Catholic, and we have our own version of traditions and guilt. We mostly go to Mass at Easter and Christmas. We’ve become less observant over the years.”
“And when we say sitting shiva, PJ, it refers to sitting on low stools. As you can see, there will be no low stools here for people to sit on, just our regular furniture and a few padded folding chairs Simon’s Aunt Sarah and Uncle Brian are bringing later.”
The doorbell rings, and Carole sends PJ to answer the door. He opens the door and three delivery guys, overloaded with several large brown bags and clear plastic platters of food, elbow their way into the apartment and ask where to put their goods.
“Oh, my!” Carole shrieks. “Do you think I ordered too much food? Here, this way.” She motions the men to the kitchen. “Please, put them in here. I’ve already cleared off the table and counters in anticipation of the delivery. Wow, I didn’t expect this much food. I don’t know what I was thinking. I hope you like bagels, PJ, and I sure hope you’re hungry!”
“Well, you are in luck, Carole.” He pats his belly. “I do love a good salt bagel with schmear and, as you can tell, I do love to eat!”
“I’m glad,” she says and ruffles the hair on PJ’s head. I could almost mistake this for a happy occasion, but unlike the mirrors, my eyes are not covered, and I can most definitely see the pain on Carole’s face.
PJ and I tear open the bags and snap off the plastic lids of the platters. The bounty includes all kinds of breads: pumpernickel (my personal favorite), rye with seeds, rye without seeds, and marble rye. There are endless bagels of every flavor imaginable and bowls of cream cheese and hummus. Tuna fish, egg, and other cold salads crowd the largest platters. Smaller platters are layered with perfectly sliced tomatoes, paper-thin red onions, and assorted cheeses along with a scattering of briny capers. A separate tray is pungent with lox and smoked white fish. I gag and push that one over to PJ to open.
“Yuck, you can deal with this one. It almost smells as bad as stinky tofu!”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes, but at least it’s not gefilte fish. That’s the absolute worst!”
“What’s…gefilte fish?”
“Oh God, pray you never have to see it, or worse…eat it. It’s a culinary turd covered in goo. It’s disgusting!”
“A turd covered in goo. Well, that is something I will have to see for myself.”
PJ flashes that sweet smile of his at me and happily takes over unwrapping the smelly fish. As he peels the plastic wrap from the platter, I’m being unwrapped, too, and out of the blue the ugly crying is back. Not again! I escape to my room, slam the door, and throw myself on my bed.
My door creaks open and PJ whispers, “Simon, can I come in?” The tears come harder, and I roll toward the wall. I can’t bear for him to see me. He shouldn’t have to see pain on my face. I’m so embarrassed. I sense PJ perch on the foot of my bed. He kicks off his shoes. To my surprise, he spoons in behind me, wrapping his arm across my chest, but the tears won’t stop. I shake, and he holds me tighter. I feel loved.
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Bio: Steven Gellman is an award-winning songwriter turned author whose stories hum with the same heart and honesty found in his music. Inspired by the books of Judy Blume that once kept him company through his own adolescence, Steven now writes coming-of-age fiction that gives voice to LGBTQ+ teens finding their way in an ever-changing world.When not writing novels or performing music, Steven can be found in a comfy chair with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Steven lives in Maryland's Piedmont region with his husband and a houseful of rescued companion animals. Somewhere in Nowhere is his first novel.
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Five Delights:
1. My three rescue animals: Artie, Oscar, and Cadlha
2. A good pot of tea
3. Reading books with my husband by the fireplace
4. Listening to and collecting vinyl records
5. All things nerdy: Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, comic books, etc
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Five Jewish Delights:
1. Baking Mayim Bialik’s vegan honey cake recipe for Rosh Hashanah
2. What my husband and I affectionately call our NYC Jew Crawl--It’s a one-day, there-and-back trip to the Lower East side for bagels, bialys, schmear, pickles, and knishes.
3. Lighting Hanukkah candles as an adult in the menorah I used as a child
4. The songs of my musical heroes: Paul Simon, Peter Yarrow, and Phil Ochs
5. Making my famous mock chopped liver for friends and family. It’s made from lentils, walnuts, and onions and I’m told it tastes like the real thing. If you ask nicely, I’ll share my secret recipe.
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