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The antiquarian who spends his time amid his old things may well have his moments of despair. He probably asks himself more than once: “What is the use of all these antiques, while…
Her Yoysef was hanging on the shaft of the well. His beard lay humbly on his breast. His fallen shoulders and feebly dangling hands expressed the most profound hopelessness. What can I do? A stone has…
Autumn came and Father decided to put an end to the growing hostility surrounding us. We were already isolated, friendless, and bankrupt, deep in the heart of a cold, gray season. I was still going to…
In her death agony—which lasted no more than an instant or two—Nazira Mualdeb reviewed the months preceding her granddaughter Alcira’s wedding and a torrent of ghostly images spontaneously abandoned…
During the bitterest days of my European exile, I turn to the photo album where I keep, along with more recent memories, a few images from my childhood—images that enlarged and corrected, come back to…
My mother and I are out walking. I ask if she remembers the women in that building in the Bronx. “Of course,” she replies. I tell her I’ve always thought sexual rage was what made them so crazy.…
Merv:Sara, can I have my shirt? I’ve got a lunch date with the rabbi of Dublin.Sara:Mervyn, you came all the way to Queen Anne’s Gate. Please sit a minute.Tess:Sit down, Merv. I’ll get your shirt. Win…
There are two things I ought to make clear. First, almost as soon as she starts telling me about her career (as we wade through the sleet from the bus stop to the market), my grandmother declares that…
“I am Mother of all the tribe,” she said with dignity. “These”—she indicated the women about her—“are mothers of the clans. You may speak—openly. Why is the birth of a male child cause for…
“Meanwhile months and years disappeared. At twenty-eight I was still without a husband, still an eligible virgin . . . It was spring—free, warm. My heart ached so, I thought I’d go crazy . . . the…