Does loving mean giving up? Did I give up something to love Roy? Did I give up something essential in my life? What is essential? WHAT DO I WANT? Can I be happy loving someone and making that my life?"" For most readers, the answer to all of the above will be ""WHO CARES?""--as Judy Wolfe churns out anguish in enervating blurts through this 1960s-Manhattan sequel to Family Lies (1982). Two revelations about her father, Judge Jerold Wolfe, hit Judy hard. She learns of his extramarital love for Regina Rush, now married to Morty. Then Jerold is forced to confess that he once fathered a deformed child. And now, good heavens, Judy's brothers Frenchy and David have both also sired deficient children (one institutionalized, one stillborn). So Frenchy's wife Diana will have a crisis, but eventually will decide to stay with her husband; restless David, a sometime rabbinical student, will marry twice before Judy discovers his special true love--someone very close to Judy. Furthermore, Judy is having problems with her law-school career, problems with her first lover--lawyer Roy Kellems, who has a perfectly decent wife. Still, Judy eventually becomes a top lawyer, determined not to marry because she knows she shouldn't have children (although both brothers will also produce normal kids). And then: enter cousin Marcel Goldblatt, adopted son of Regina and Morty, a wanderer who--while quietly studying medicine--has nobly taken the rap on a drug-charge. Marcel loves Judy; Judy loves Marcel. But how can she marry Marcel--who should have children? (His family, except for one non-bearing sister, was killed in the Holocaust.) Marry? Well, after anguish and travel, and talking, talking, they do. . . and children arrive. . . and Morty dies. . . and Regina and Jerold. . . . Humorless, leaden, immeasurably tiresome--but sure to reach some of the Jewish/soap audience.