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I will print this book in ink as a remembrance and a sign, a memorial for my dear children. For now I will reveal their strength with words, as a reminder for them and their children…
Listen carefully to my words. When I was in the land of Safed, one night, when the sun had set, I was tired and weary, lying on my bed. I was asleep, but my heart was awake; my beloved was knocking…
My mother and father were an embarrassment to me, up until high school. They were much older than my friends’ parents (my dad was forty- seven and my mother was forty- four when I was born), and they…
[…] On my first research trip to France as a professional scholar in the summer of 1982, I set out to find the only fascist intellectual discussed in my dissertation who was still alive; his name was…
Egyptian Jewish American author André Aciman describes celebrating his last Seder in Egypt with his bags packed to leave his homeland for good.
I’d known right away that I’d dressed all wrong for the interview, and I sensed even this early that it was becoming a formality. I’d prepared myself to play it in Jack Carter’s cool way. But the imp…
The Moshava of Pardes-Hannah is the place I come from, but since I left it, my eyes have been turned away from it, as if I couldn’t look at it. Until I went to the army, the Moshava was a whole place…
[…] I made the mistake of stopping in for Sabbath services. Dutifully I tried praying but was distracted by the dance of light reflecting from people’s wedding rings on the walls. When everyone stood…
The parting was not long in coming. My father died two months before I turned six.
To this day, I go to him at difficult times. Mostly to complain that he abandoned me. The handful of memories that he…
I have a lovely period photo, sepia coloured, with all the characters in a row, and their gentle trusting faces, photograph faces that nobody ever looks at now. They are the shifbrider, the ship…