In Dana Reinhardt’s first novel, a teen is (reluctantly) reunited with her birth mother

In A Brief Chapter in My Impossible Life, Simone, who was adopted at birth, agrees to meet her biological mother, Rivka. Complicating matters, Rivka is the daughter of a Hasidic rabbi and Simone is an atheist raised by caring, gentile parents. What prompted you to write this story?

I wanted to write a story about Jewish identity. But I wanted to write a story that wasn’t about anti-Semitism or the Holocaust, which was my sense of what most books for young adults about Judaism were rooted in. So I tried to think of a situation where a kid—right around the age of 16, when we think we know everything about the world—could find out something new about herself. It didn’t seem to me to be enough to have a kid like me, who already knew she was Jewish but didn’t really know what that meant. I really wanted to spring this on her out of nowhere. At the same time, the story is also about high school and dating and friends, life and death, and the afterlife.

The novel examines religious beliefs in a very nonjudgmental way—everything from atheism to agnosticism to faith. Does that reflect your own journey?

It reflects what I’d like to be—as tolerant as possible of all people’s beliefs. That’s a struggle for everybody, especially for someone who comes from Rivka’s background, and that kind of Hasidic life that’s so foreign to people who know nothing about it.

Does the story have any parallels with your own life?

The autobiographic nature of the book is something that’s not on the surface. I’m not adopted; I’m not from a family like Simone’s. My upbringing was really very different in every way from hers. I grew up Jewish—actually, I’m from a mixed family. My dad was Jewish; my mom is not. My parents were not unlike Simone’s—well, they are unlike them in their personalities, but not in their atheism. [My] upbringing [was in] a really antireligious house. So all of that, I worked out in the book. It wasn’t until I was done and looked back at it that I realized how much I was working through something of my own in writing it.

Have you become an Orthodox Jew?

Oh God, no. Actually my husband’s from a shul that’s more like reform. It’s called IKAR, that’s a spiritual community. We’re certainly not Orthodox, but we practice Shabbat on Friday nights, and we don’t have Christmas in our house like I did, growing up as a kid [in Los Angeles]. And we’re raising our children with a real sense of Jewish identity.

You’ve done a lot of things in your life, including a brief stint in children’s book publishing, law school, and making documentaries for Frontline and Peter Jennings. What did you learn about yourself from writing this book?

What I realized is that I started somewhere where Simone is at the beginning [of the story].

And that place was…

Being totally certain that I was an atheist. I think of [the similarities between] me and Simone: she is [an atheist] without ever having examined [her beliefs] that closely, just accepting [them] because that’s how she was raised. I’m not sure that I’m not still an atheist, but as an adult now with [two young children] and my husband, I’ve become more like Rivka, where I can make ritual important to me without having to spend too much time worrying about the real God question.

Does the book have a message for readers?

I didn’t write it with a message. I guess there is something about having an open mind and heart to things that may come into your life that you never expected or wanted. I think Simone faces that with much more grace than I would have as a 16-year-old or even as a 34-year-old.