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Opposite the windowsill is a shuttered curtain and a wasteland of chimneys. The street is being drained of life. A double-decker bus with gleaming windows of light passes by the corner. A woman pushes…
Every article you’ve done for us, Phil,” Minify had said, “has a kind of human stuff in it. The right answers get in it somehow.”
Sure. But he hadn’t asked for them and pried for them. When he’d…
I was out of the cavern no more than a minute, taking a last look around the square at the minarets, the moon, the domes, the Wall, when someone was shouting at me, “It’s you!”
Standing in my path was…
A woman named Bella stayed behind to speak to me. Her hair was carefully waved, touched with streaks of blond, her eyes round and blue. She was not one of the shapeless old, but kept waist, hips, and…
He strolled along the bank of the Vistula, thinking, “Today she will come.”
And so thinking, he saw it all in the most vivid colors: He is sitting on the bed in his room, in the darkness, waiting…
The anthologist, like the historian and the novelist, is an autobiographer is disguise. He is driven into the jungles and watering places of literature by instinct as well as by design. The ultimate…
After finishing the letter, Elisheva handed it back to Hogeh and gracefully added: “Would that letters such as this might appear more often in our literature! For only such refinement of language will…
About Grzhebin on canvas, about Grzhebin in the flesh. Since the letter is written in a penitent mood, the trademark of the Grzhebin Publishing House is affixed. Here too are several…
We waited half through the night, with the news leaking out to us. The confessions were going well. The time was long because the state’s attorney was going over each fact, nailing down the evidence…
But all this came to an end one night. In almost every one of his novels, Warszawski retells the scene in the winter of 1944 when he came home at three o’clock in the morning, after a night of dancing…