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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…
Do you remember Zhitomir, Vasily? Do you remember the River Teterev, Vasily, and that night in which the Sabbath, the young Sabbath, crept along the sunset crushing the stars with the heel of her red…
I weep for you with all the letters of the alphabet
that made your hopeful songs. I saw how reason spent
itself in vain for hope, how you strove against regret—
and all the while your hearts were…
Would you state your name for the record? a voice intoned.
Even before our father could reply, Bartie said, “Look, it’s Daddy.”
“Sure enough,” said Arthur. “It’s Mister Norman. On the television from…
“Shalom and good morning everyone, allow me to extend a warm and of course respectful welcome to you, our honored guests, on behalf of Viva Travel, on this Down Memory Lane package tour, including a…
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…
Lasik’s downfall did not come because of his name. It was only because of that sigh. Perhaps it was not even the sigh, but rather the economic situation, or the hot weather, or perhaps even certain…
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
Friends of my age,
My happy generation,
We strode, pained-pleased,
Through the wreckage of whole worlds.
Before the living and the dead
fell on our portion
Inherited old skins
of ourselves—and…
Stalinstan,
Stalinstan,
Who is present and on hand
From the Party,
From the Union?
Who was on his way
Somewhere else today,
When a chain of men caught him
And then brought him
To…