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[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…
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…
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…
This morning I met Vaclav on the street.
“God himself has arranged our meeting,” he continued after the usual greetings and inquiries about health. “Walking here, I thought of you.”
“Might I be able…
The train pulls up to the platform, steaming and boiling like a samovar.
Lazar is standing on the platform—short, glowing, joyful—waving his dirty handkerchief at the cars.
The train is on its way to…
This is how things go with your average Jew. But Hershele is not your average Jew. It wasn’t by chance that he was famous in all of Ostropol, in all of Berdichev, and in all of Vilyuisk.
Hershele…