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Vasily Grossman began his literary career with the publication of In the Town of Berdichev in 1934. This book dichotomously validates the experiences of Jewish families and Russian Revolutionaries dur
God, Robin and me had the funniest time trying to decide. I mean it was bizarre. I suppose we had always assumed we would do it, but then, well, when you actually think…
Toward the end of the first century, in the spring of the last year of the reign of the Emperor Vespasian, two entries were made in the Roman archives of the district of Galilee. The first…
If my father had been able to foresee even a thousandth part of the trials I was to endure he might have been rather less ardent on the night my mother conceived me. . . . Now, of…
When I was born, Robert G. Mehlman was at the peak of his glory. He was more than a major talent. But within five years there wasn’t much of that glory left, and my mother sometimes compared him to a…
It was a winter day. The streets of Vienna were dirty and shrouded with the mud of the snows that were falling, only to be melted immediately under the feet of the passersby. A dense and heavy smoke…
Mordecai walked home from the village on the path that bordered the forest. All the talk of the elders in the village chief’s house had intoxicated him more than the strongest whiskey. Under his…
There is much I cannot tell you. I am not going to be autobiographical. I want to be “bio.”
I write with the flow of the words.
Before the appearance of the mirror, the person didn’t know his own face…
As a symbol of the past—all sadness and humility—my mother’s face swims up and rises before my eyes. Her eyes two black abysses, anguish peering from them; her lips moist and rosy, a smile always…