In the Fall of 2022, my story "The Table at the Back of the Coffee Shop" was published by New Plains Review, a student-run literary journal at the University of Central Oklahoma. The journal was published as a paperback and is available for purchase at Amazon. Yesterday I received in the mail a contributor's copy of the journal.
I spoke to the Qesher Book Club about my book Rakiya - Stories of Bulgaria. Qesher features books with Jewish themes, both fiction and history, so the first thing I said to my audience was "You’re probably wondering why a collection of short stories set in Bulgaria would be featured on the Qesher Book Club. I’m hoping that by the end of this evening, you will not only understand why, but you’ll also learn about the fascinating story of Bulgarian Jewry during the Holocaust."
In the talk I told about growing up in Sioux City, making Aliyah, founding Kibbutz Yahel, setting up a home on Moshav Neve Ilan, starting a career in marketing online poker, a job that took me to the World Series of Poker in Las Vegas, to Macau, and finally to a two-year relocation contract in Sofia.
I spoke about my books and short stories, and how my experiences on a kibbutz led to The Virtual Kibbutz and how our life in Bulgaria resulted in my writing Valley of Thracians, The Burgas Affair, and Rakiya - Stories of Bulgaria.
I gave details of my research into the subject of Bulgarian Jewry during World War, and how that fascinating period of history compelled me to write my short story "Forgiveness".
The online talk was attended by 89 people from all over - there was even someone joining in from Bulgaria. After my talk ended, there was time set for questions.
Surprisingly, many of the questions related to my growing up in Sioux City! How did my childhood there influence my writing? How did my parents end up living in Sioux City in the first place? Did I know that was where Dear Abby came from? (And Ann Landers).
I think everyone enjoyed themselves - I certainly did!
Maya Arad is a leading author of Israeli fiction, but she doesn’t live in Israel. Arad, who grew up in Kibbutz Nahal Oz, has been living in California for the last twenty years. The Hebrew Teacher, her collection of three novellas−the first of her books to be translated into English−won the National Jewish Book Award for Hebrew Fiction in Translation in January 2025. Now readers have the opportunity to read one of her novels in English.
The annual mail starts with a recap of the episodes
mentioned in the letter dated the year before, to remind both recipients and
the novel’s readers of their importance in Leah’s life. An update on these
milestones in Leah’s life follows, and then there is her news. Leah informs her
friends of developments in her love life, stories of her children growing up,
and accounts of her career changes.
Her best friend, Mira, is the recipient of postscripts with
further insights into Leah’s true feelings about where her life has taken her,
complete with apologies and confessions. “To you I can write what is truly in
my heart, with no masks and guises,” Leah notes.
“I came to America on an educational mission, to teach
Jewish children who, one day, may themselves make Aliyah,” Leah writes in her
1970 message. “I am living in the United States for now, and who knows what the
future will bring?” Two years later, Leah mentions that she and her husband are
considering Aliyah. “The circumstances are finally ripe for making a
significant change in our lives.” Yet her Aliyah plans fall through. “I’ve
built a life for myself here that I’m unwilling and unable to walk away from,”
she writes in 1986.
The yearly Rosh Hashana messages recount Leah’s ups and
downs, and one can see how she matures through the years. This epistolary novel
succeeds in telling her story, and readers are compelled to turn the pages to
learn whether she will find true love or successfully handle the challenges she
faces.
Still, there are parts of what Leah writes in the narrative
that will frustrate readers. Detailed reports of what it was like to fly in an
airplane for the first time, an explanation of why Chicago is called ‘the Windy
City’, how daily life in America is easier because of dishwashers, and the
advantages of working with a computer–these elements show the passage of time but
not things anyone would naturally include in a Rosh Hashana letter.
Still, this is a minor observation as the overall format of
the novel succeeds in telling a story of a woman’s life; her struggles, loves,
and growth; the friendships she makes and the friendships she loses; and how
one can still be an Israeli even while keeping a permanent residency overseas.
Leah ends each mail with a message marking her unwavering
optimism about the Jewish New Year. “May it be a year full of dreams!” she
writes. “May it be a wonderful year, a magical year, a year of change and
growth!” Readers will share Leah’s positive outlook on life with eager
anticipation of her next Happy New Year letter.
Maya Arad is the author of twelve books of Hebrew
fiction, as well as studies in literary criticism and linguistics. Born in
Israel in 1971, she received a PhD in linguistics from University College
London and for the past twenty years has lived in California where she is
writer in residence at Stanford University’s Taube Center for Jewish Studies.
Key to the defense was locating the tall, gaunt man
sporting a maroon Basque-style beret who had allegedly been in the convenience
store at the time of the robbery. That man was said to have witnessed the three
teenagers hassling the cashier just after ten pm, forcing him to hand over the
few bills in the register, threatening to return and cause havoc to the place
if he called the police, before escaping down the windswept street.
If the tall man could be located, he could identify the
teenagers, who hadn’t bothered to wear masks or disguise themselves and should
therefore be easy to identify. The cashier couldn’t give the police any clues as
to where they had come from, and where they were going, their pockets full of
his evening’s hard-earned revenues.
But the man with the beret had seen everything. At least,
according to Philip, who had been loitering outside when the teenagers robbed
the store.
Philip, who planned to purchase a pack of cigarettes, claimed
the man had been standing at the back when the teenagers rushed in. The man
came down the aisle but did nothing to stop the teenagers or protect the
cashier, Philip said. The cashier had raised his hands in defense even before
the youths announced their intention to rob the establishment. But, as Philip
tried to explain, the tall man could certainly pick out the boys in a lineup.
That’s what Philip told the police officers who arrived
at the scene twenty minutes later, but they didn’t believe him.
Read the rest of the story on Written Tales Magazine.
If you are asking how we’re doing during this challenging
time, that’s the short answer.
Here’s the long answer.
We’re tired of being woken up by the blaring wail of sirens
at midnight, or at three in the morning, or at both hours.
We’re tired of running to our reinforced saferooms and our
public shelters, sitting on the floor uncomfortably as we all stare at our
mobile phones for the latest information about where the missiles struck.
We’re tired of hearing the boom of ballistic missiles
overhead as they are blown up by our anti-ballistic rockets.
We’re tired of returning to our beds, unable to fall back
asleep as we fearfully await the next missile attack.
We’re tired of turning on the television news to scenes of
the night’s destructive toll – people injured and killed, buildings bombed,
cars burnt, craters and piles of debris everywhere, homes lost, lives
interrupted.
We’re tired of being unable to go to work, unable to send
our children to school and to kindergarten, unable to go shopping even for the
most essential things without worrying whether the next missile attack will
catch us somewhere where there is no nearby shelter.
We’re tired of seeing our airport closed and international
airlines canceling all their flights to Israel.
We’re tired of canceling our weekend plans and our summer
vacations.
We’re tired of watching the bombing of Iran, even if it
means we’re taking out their nuclear sites and military facilities, because we
know it will result in further missile strikes against us.
We’re tired of the world dismissing our need to confront an
Evil that seeks to destroy us while it lies blatantly about enriching uranium
for peaceful research.
We’re tired of hearing that America bombed Iran because this
is Israel’s war, when it is the war of the entire civilized world against this
Evil.
We’re tired of seeing Iranian citizens fleeing Tehran,
unable to overturn their theocratic repressive regime.
We’re tired of all this, and more.
We’re tired that we still have 50 hostages held by
terrorists in Gaza, and whose freedom is not a priority of our government.
We’re tired that our prime minister refuses to take
responsibility for what happened on October 7, 2023, in the greatest tragedy to
befall the Jewish People since the Holocaust.
We’re tired that our soldiers are fighting every day in
Gaza, and we’re tired of seeing their young faces on the news, the latest
casualties of a seemingly endless war.
We’re tired of the entire world shouting cries of ‘genocide’
as we do our best to avoid civilian casualties.
We’re tired of fighting terrorists who dig tunnels under
hospitals, hide their weapons in schools, take cover behind civilians and steal
the aid provided by humanitarian organizations.
We’re tired of how Gazans are suffering.
We’re tired of our inability to throw out our corrupt,
right-wing, extremist government.
We’re tired of the government giving limitless funding to
the ultra-Orthodox and letting their young men avoid compulsory army service.
We’re tired of our right-wing government moving endlessly to
curb media freedom and overturn our judicial system.
We’re tired of our government allowing the establishment of
more and more settlements across the West Bank.
We’re tired of what we’re doing to the Palestinians.
We’re tired of regarding our Arab citizens as second-class.
We’re tired that the most corrupt prime minister we’ve ever
had is about to get credit for finally confronting the Iranian nuclear threat.
We’re tired that the most corrupt prime minister we’ve ever
had is allowing extremists to do anything they want, just so he can remain in
power.
We’re tired that the most corrupt prime minister we’ve ever
had is prolonging the trial that is meant to hold him accountable for his
corruption.
We’re tired of inflation, of the lack of affordable housing,
of the traffic jams on the highways, and the crowded national parks.
We’re tired of all this, and more.
Yet, despite being tired, we love Israel. We love its religious
importance, its amazing history, and its colorful traditions. We love its high-tech,
its stunning nature, its beaches, and its nightlife. We love its youth and its
hope and promise for the future.
We’re tired, but we will continue to fight for our country
because this is home.
Originally posted on The Times of Israel.
The sky was blue and promising, the early morning air crisp and
refreshing. A perfect day for the Jerusalem Marathon. The main event, 42.2
kilometers long, would take the runners through downtown Jerusalem and north
all the way to Mt. Scopus. The race circuit snaked through the Old City’s Jaffa
Gate and along the narrow alleyways of the Armenian Quarter. Out Zion Gate,
around Mt. Zion, up a steep hill to the old train station, and through the
German Colony. South to the Arnona neighborhood, back towards the city center,
and down the home stretch to the finish line at Sacher Park.
Read the rest of the story on JUDITH MAGAZINE.
