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For the first fifteen years of our lives, Danny and I lived within five blocks of each other and neither of us knew of the other’s existence. [ . . . ]
Danny and I probably would never have met—or we…
I was standing in the park under that tree. They call it the Hanging Elm. Once upon a time it made a big improvement on all kinds of hooligans. Nowadays if, once in a while…No. So this woman comes up…
“You found the victim?”
She nodded.
“Was she conscious at the time?”
“Yes. Baruch Hashem.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Mrs. Adler was conscious.”
“That’s fine,” Decker said. He faced the uniforms. “Cordon off…
I was out of the cavern no more than a minute, taking a last look around the square at the minarets, the moon, the domes, the Wall, when someone was shouting at me, “It’s you!”
Standing in my path was…
The Sharon Valley was full of mud. Wherever we looked all we saw was mud. Fields, green trees and little houses, and great expanses of dark mud. The water from the rains which had fallen over the past…
Orellana:[To Leber, about to dig into a towering salad] Hey there, you with the Jewish joke of a face, spit one out for us. That should perk you up. Nobody can tell Jewish jokes like a Jew. And now…
Duddy drove to Montreal the next morning, picked up his stuff, and returned to Ste. Agathe by bus the same evening. Yvette met him at the station. “Hey,” he said, “did you see the paper? They raided…
“. . . Are you Jewish?”
“Of course, I am. I went to South America to escape persecution, not to enjoy the pleasant climate.”
“Well, I’m neither a practicing Jew nor a Zionist. In fact, I dislike any…
[…] What rabbi would come to this impoverished nowhere for the pishochs we offered, especially if he had to rent his own lodgings—the congregation had no money for an apartment when a perfectly good…
Once upon a time, in the “good old days”—some ten or twenty years ago, let’s say—the people in Shklov still did not know what newspapers really were like. Their sole source of news was a solitary…