David Bergelson

1884–1952

David Bergelson was a pioneering Yiddish novelist and dramatist. Born in Ukraine in 1884, he established a model for modernist aesthetics and literary impressionism in Yiddish from early in his career. An influential member of the Kiev grupe and Kultur-lige before and during the Russian Revolution, Bergelson spent much of the 1920s in Berlin, solidifying that city’s reputation as a nexus of Yiddish culture in the interwar period. Much to the shock of the Yiddish reading public, Bergelson expressed strong support for the Soviet Union as the only place with a secure future for Yiddish letters in his widely read 1926 essay “Dray tsenters.” Although Bergelson’s writing took on an increasingly ideological bent after he moved to the Soviet Union in the early 1930s, his novels were still well regarded by critics and readers alike. A leading member of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee, Bergelson was a victim of the postwar repression of Soviet Yiddish culture and was murdered by the state alongside other members of the Soviet Yiddish intelligentsia on August 12, 1952.

Entries in the Posen Library by This Creator

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The Beginning of December 1918

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In came the beginning of the month of December 1918. Like the cheerless, cold drizzle, dirty frozen air hovers over the fields. Everywhere fragments of sky seem to be scattered over mounds of earth…

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On a Soviet Sabbath

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Citizen Voli Brener A Moscow snowy morning, sun-streaked and dry. When it falls on a Sunday, the morning shines with a thousand Moscow sparkles—rejuvenating white lights that charm and shimmer, as if…

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A Ten-Rouble Man

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A foreign crawling black stain, that’s what he was—the kosher butcher—in the new, not yet completed, but sparkling white Jewish settlement. Leading up to the High Holidays, he chastised impiety at…

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The End of Everything (When All Is Said and Done)

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His sorrowful expression broke her heart. She’d always believed that her father was strong and would do whatever was necessary to retain his dignity and his self-respect. And now for the first time…

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At Night

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At night once, I awoke in the dark, crowded, loudly snoring railroad car; instantly I saw him on the seat across from me and instantly I recognized him. There he sat, the old, familiar night-Jew, who…

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Art-Literature and the Revolutionary Public

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We live in a time of Sturm und Drang [storm and stress]. Every day brings new disappointments and new hopes. Old forms lose their value, no new ones are being created. And the synthetic gaze of…