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The Jewish theme in Ru.Shtetl is a metaphor. The closest mainstream parallel explaining the essence of what Patrick Lisidze conceived of is Siniavskii’s pseudonym, Abram Terts. Terts’s Jewishness was…
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…
The shtetl, lost here among Polish fields and groves, might be called Turek or Przasnysz, Konin or Maków, yet what one remembers is not the name but the old marketplace reeking of tar and dung where a…
Nuska Shkolnik, who had come on a four-day leave, cried those four straight. He’d been a whiner since childhood, and Lyovka never did manage to knock that vice out of him. All anyone had to do was…
The heder was in the basement. It was a dark, damp room with a low ceiling. There were two windows on the ground level. In the middle of the room, there was a long wooden table covered with books, two…
. . . An empty street. An unfamiliar shack. A tightly shut gate. And hanging over the gate, over the dead street, over us all—a Cossack cap with a raspberry-colored band. A trail of smoke from an…