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In the past few years, I have become increasingly interested in Sendak’s work, reading his books for my own pleasure as well as for the amusement of my…
“That is my daughter’s dress you are wearing, Chaya Abramowicz. My Chaya. I brought it as a present for her in Lublin.”
“Chaya,” Hannah said.
“The same name, too. God is good. Your name means life.”…
Can you imagine the air filled with smoke?
It was. The city was vanishing before noon
or was it earlier than that? I can’t say because
the light came from nowhere and went nowhere.
This was years…
Now comes the turn, with awe and reverence, awe and reverence without end, of my father, the pious, God-fearing, learned one, may his strength be for the Torah [see Esther 2:15], the supernal light…
Ever since she had sent the letter to Toronto, Fumiko had been a bundle of nerves. Would George Brady write back? Will he help us to know Hana? Even the letter carrier who…
In the city of Warsaw such a long time ago
Two hundred children stand lined row on row
With their freshly washed faces and freshly washed clothes
The children of Poland who never grow old
In the…
The book being presented to the reader represents a selection of a thousand autobiographies composed by Jewish children, survivors of the conflagration, tender children who lived for months and even…
It’s hard to imagine Uncle Silvester making Uncle Pucho eat soap.
Uncle Silvester was always a man of principles.
As proof, there’s the story…
[ . . . ] Let us return to my maternal grandmother, Matte, of blessed memory. After she married off my late aunt Ulk, she was left penniless with the fatherless child my mother, may she live…
If it forms the one landscape that we, the inconstant ones,
Are constantly homesick for, this is chiefly
Because it dissolves in water.
—Auden, “In Praise of Limestone”
If beauty and truth were to…