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for V. Kaverin [Veniamin Kaverin, born Zilber, Soviet writer]
The small town resounded with whistling and shouting. The smell of stewing, the smell of frying, the smell of boiling.
Mr. Dykhes had sold all his defective soap to the army.
Mus…
Before continuing my story about the events in Pinsk in the summer of 1940, I would like to digress briefly into the realm of the miraculous. Let us imagine the impossible—something fantastic and…
I lowered the window more and let the wind wash my face. As often happens when you stand at the window of a fast-moving train, a speck of dirt flew into my eye, and both eyes began to tear.
I had…
I dragged my belongings over to Grandmother’s, my books, my music stand, and my violin. The table had already been set for me. Grandmother sat in the corner. I ate. We didn’t say a word. The door was…
We must not repeat the mistake made by western Jews . . . in denying their nationality and in assimilating completely in all areas of life except religion. . . . We eastern Jews have seen all the…
The months of which I am about to write are probably amongst the most painful in my whole life; I interrupted my work on the book for a long time trying to summon up the courage to embark on this…
[Gordon and Zhivago were on their way home in the evening. The sun was going down.] In one village [they passed through] they saw a young Cossack surrounded by a crowd…
Ethnic minorities—majorities, too—did not suffer any particular persecution in our town. Rise as high as you can go, earn as much as you can manage, build something out of what you achieve—all you…
The resolution of the heder commission and the OPE [The Society for the Promotion of Culture Among the Jews of Russia] Committee indicates that our task went far beyond the limits of a…