"Jerusalem Marathon" posted by JUDITH MAGAZINE

They gathered near the Knesset. High school girls in modest skirts, color-matched with running tights, yeshiva students sporting brand-name running shoes. Soldiers in uniform and start-up employees before the start of their workday. Individuals, friends, youngsters, and athletic adults, the experienced and those here for the first time, everyone wearing the same lime green dry-wear shirt. All waited for the announcement that would kick off the race.

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.

Israel at War with Iran

Israel lives in a hostile neighborhood and we do what we need to do to protect ourselves. I am not a supporter of our government, but let's put politics aside for the moment. And yes we want the war in Gaza to end immediately and all the hostages to come home, but right now we are focused on this.

Iran's nuclear program and its growing arsenal of ballistic missiles is an existential threat. It has lied to the world about uranium enrichment and whether it's conducting tests on nuclear weaponry. It has openly stated that it seeks Israel's destruction. Iran is the enemy not only of Israel, but of the United States as well.

We are under attack. Drones with explosives are heading our way at this very moment, and we can expect missiles to follow. We could not let this situation continue. We will protect ourselves even if we are doing this on our own.

Thank you to everyone who supports us in this mission - because you are supporting our very existence. We are strong, we will make it through this, but your continued support will help us through this difficult time.

Photo by Aaron Ovadia on Unsplash

"Last Will and Testament" - short story

We are writing to you on behalf of our client, the Estate of Kevin Gladstone, who passed away on March 2, 2023. Please accept our condolences during this difficult time.

 A smile crossed Martin Gladstone’s face. The day had come. Kevin Gladstone, his uncle. The man was filthy rich. Or rather, had been filthy rich. No condolences were necessary. For Martin, this mail was the bearer of excellent news.

 A meeting with a probate lawyer acting on behalf of the estate has been scheduled in our offices. Your presence is requested as you may be named as a beneficiary or have a legitimate interest in the estate.

 

The estate. The family estate. Martin knew all about estates.

The letter was just a formality. He was familiar with its contents, knew what it would say in advance. He had been waiting for this moment. The Gladstone inheritance would soon be his.

Read the rest of the story at New English Review.

Review of ‘Autocorrect’ by Etgar Keret

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could fix everything that goes wrong in our life? In the title story of ‘Autocorrect’, Etgar Keret’s new collection, Yuvi wakes up on what he hopes will be an ‘extra special day’ - if the Chinese sign a deal with the company where he’s the CEO. His doorbell rings and it’s his father, hoping to travel together to their office. Yuvi says, “I’ll see you there,” but his father never makes it to the office. He is killed in a horrific traffic accident.

Yuvi’s alarm goes off and he wakes to find his father standing outside his door, offering to drive him to the office. In this Groundhog Day scenario, Yuvi has a chance to reverse the bad outcome of the previous day’s tragedy. But will his fortunes be better this time around?

‘Autocorrect’ is one of the 33 short, short stories in Autocorrect by Etgar Keret, translated by Jessica Cohen and Sondra Silverston (Riverhead Books, May 27, 2025). Readers familiar with Keret will be entertained by more examples of his creative imagination, while those meeting him for the first time will encounter his original humorous insights into Israeli culture and modern life, with a touch of science fiction thrown in for good measure.

Time travel, aliens, and alternative realities all make appearances in the stories, while others mirror our lives, showing imaginative reflections of Israel and Israelis. Each of the stories satisfies in its own unique way.

I had previously read many of the book’s stories in the original Hebrew, but translators Cohen and Silverston do an excellent job of showcasing Keret’s humor for English readers. No matter what the language, his stories leave one eager to start the next one. Here are brief descriptions of some of my favorites.

‘A World without Selfie Sticks’ - a life-changing reality show from another world.

'Point of No Return' - the thin line between real life and simulated real life.

'Genesis, Chapter 0' - beyond pain, and boredom, and fear, everything becomes light.

‘For the Woman Who Has Everything’ - for the reader who has read everything, something different.

The stories of Autocorrect are extremely short, but they’ll leave you wanting more. We’re sure to meet the boundless creativity and humor of Etgar Keret again very soon.

Etgar Keret was born in Tel Aviv in 1967. His books have been translated into 37 languages, and he has been published in the New York Times, the Guardian, the New Yorker, Le Monde and other periodicals. Keret has written a number of screenplays; “Jellyfish”, his first film as director alongside his wife Shira Geffen, won the Caméra d’Or prize for best first feature at Cannes in 2007. Keret has received the Chevalier Medallion of France's Ordre des Arts et des Lettres (2010); the Charles Bronfman Prize (2016); and the Sapir Prize for Literature (2018). His short story collection Fly Away won the 2019 National Jewish Book Award for Fiction.

Jessica Cohen is a British-Israeli-American literary translator who shared the 2017 International Booker Prize with author David Grossman for her translation of A Horse Walks into a Bar.

Sondra Silverston is a native New Yorker who has lived in Israel since 1970. She has trans­lat­ed works of Etgar Keret, Ayelet Gun­dar-Goshen, Zeruya Shalev, and Savy­on Liebrecht. Her trans­la­tion of Amos Oz’s Between Friends won the 2013 Nation­al Jew­ish Book Award for fic­tion.

Originally posted on The Times of Israel.

"I was enchanted by the stories"

Rakiya - Stories of Bulgaria by Ellis Shuman is a collection of cultural short stories set in Bulgaria. In these short stories we follow such characters as pickpocketing Roma, a WWII veteran, refugees, authors, makers of rakiya, and hunters - all while learning about the rich history of the area.

As someone who knows little about the Bulgarian culture or the history, I was enchanted by the stories. I was also intrigued by the foods, drinks, mountains, and churches. By the time I was finished with the collection, I wondered if a trip to Bulgaria might be in order!

As an author, I was fascinated with how the author weaved these tales into a cohesive whole - and loved how a character from one story would inevitably end up in another. Despite being a series of short stories, it reads far more like a novel, with Bulgaria as the main character. It's a great read.

Review by Teri M. Brown

Sips and Stories: A Journey Through Bulgaria’s Rich Culture

If you've ever been curious about lesser-known corners of the world, this episode of the Online for Authors podcast is your perfect invitation. In an engaging and insightful interview, author Ellis Shuman takes listeners on a journey through his collection of short stories, Rakiya: Stories of Bulgaria—and into the soul of a country often overlooked on the traveler's map.

The full article and the podcast episode are on the Online for Authors website.

"Quills in the Dark" - non-fiction

I sensed it before Max did. A rustling in the bushes. A snap of a twig. A muffled crackling sound. Max lifted his head, assumed his full-alert, ready-to-attack mode, and strained at his leash. A final movement, and then it burst into the open. A porcupine, determined to escape after encountering Max and me in the dark.

It was five in the morning, our forest path lit by the waning moon and a scatter of the night’s last stars. I was leading Max on his pre-dawn walk, necessitated by my having to leave shortly to catch the first train to my job in Tel Aviv. Max had already done his ‘business’ and we were on the return journey, back to the streetlights of civilization leading to my home in our small community outside Jerusalem. And then the porcupine came into view.

With the erect quills on its back, the animal was as tall as Max, a mid-size mixed-breed dog. We see porcupines nearly every morning. Add that to the jackals and wild boars we meet from time to time, a bounty of wildlife in the forested hills near my home rarely seen in daylight. I may be crazy for walking my dog in the pitch-black hours, but these unexpected encounters in nature fascinate me. And they thrill Max as well.

I know to stay clear of porcupines; they can attack when threatened. Several months ago, a man in northern Israel nearly lost his life after being stabbed in his arms and legs with 41 quills. Porcupines are Israel’s largest rodent and use their quills in defense. They don’t actually shoot them, I’ve learned, but it’s best to stay as far away as possible.

There’s another reason the presence of porcupines irks me. I recently planted a small vegetable patch in my backyard, and had already harvested cucumbers, with tomatoes soon to follow. At summer’s end, I was excited to plant my first lettuce seedlings, but overnight, they were eaten down to their tiny stems. Basel and flowers also lost their leaves, and I assumed nocturnal porcupines were the culprits responsible for the damage.

Today’s porcupine ran off into the brush, sending Max into a frenzy of barking as I tightened my grip on his leash. Before I knew it, the creature had vanished into the dense thicket of hillside undergrowth as if it had never been. Max and I continued our walk, with him sniffing for traces of the animal’s scent and occasionally lifting his leg to mark his territory.

More rustling near the path. This time Max saw the porcupine before me. He struggled to break loose from his leash, to run down the creature just as he chases the stray cats on our street. Within seconds, it was gone, following the trail of its partner. Max calmed down, and we headed for home.

Twenty minutes later, I finished my breakfast and filled Max’s water bowl. He had enough food to get through the day, and I patted his head before locking the front door behind me. My wife would care for him until I returned from work, but her walks with the dog would be in bright daylight.

I got into my car and started the motor for the drive to the train station. I adjusted the mirror and began to pull out of my parking spot when a dash of movement caught my eye.

A lone porcupine darted in front of the car, disappearing into the bushes on the far side of the street. Too bad I didn’t have my phone ready to snap a picture of the wayward animal. No worries. Max and I were bound to meet more porcupines on our next pre-dawn walk.

Originally published in The Loch Raven Review.

"Things That Start With Butter" - short story

“Buttermilk.”

“Butterfly.”

“Butternut.”

“Bread and butter!”

“But that’s butter at the end.”

“What if I eat the butter first?”

“How can you eat the butter first on a piece of bread?”

“By licking it off!”

It’s a word game we play, one of the many ways I keep Kira occupied when her mother is gone. I love spending time with my granddaughter. She’s beautiful, and it’s not just me who says that. Kira has a keen mind and is wise beyond her seven years. She’s a lot of fun!

“Buttercup.”

“Butterlicious!”

“Now you’re making words up.”

“Grandma, you do that too, sometimes.”

“I would never…”

“What about that time you tried to convince me that Ant Warp was a place.”

“Antwerp! It’s a city in Belgium.”

“Have you been to Belgium?”

“No.”

“So, how can you know for sure?”

I laugh, push up the blonde bangs from her forehead. Her face is so pretty. Brown eyes and thin lips. Dimples you could die for. She gets them from her mom.

“When’s she coming back?”

I look at my phone. “Soon. She has some errands to run.”

“Oof, always errands. Maybe I’m an errand she should run!”

“You’re not an errand,” I say, stroking her shoulder. “You’re the reason she runs her errands.”

“Do you think she’ll buy me that magical unicorn?”

“It’s not your birthday yet. That’s in two months.”

“Two months is a long time.”

“It’ll be here before you know it.”

“We’ve been here a long time. When can we go home?”

My phone rings, a loud ring. My daughter insisted on a loud ring because I’m hard of hearing. I’m not, I argued, although I knew what she said was true. Partially.

“I’m running late, Mom. There’s traffic, and I didn’t get to the drugstore yet.”

“Kira is getting impatient.”

“Why don’t you play one of those word games with her?”

“That’s what we’ve been doing.”

“Is that Mommy? Let me talk to her!”

I hand Kira my phone, lean back in my chair and smile. My lovely granddaughter. Kira talks with her mother, an exaggerated pleading for her to finish her errands and come back as soon as possible. The conversation ends and Kira returns the phone.

“She said she’ll buy me a Snickers bar.”

“Okay. So, what do you want to play next?”

“I don’t want to play. I want to go home.”

“I know,” I say. I can’t promise her that, or anything, for that matter. I look up at the infusion bag, making sure the drip continues at its slow, steady pace. “As soon as the doctors say you can go home…” I don’t finish the sentence.

“Oof! Always the doctors!”

She looks sour for a minute, eases back on her hospital bed, as if she’s trying to get as far away from her disease as possible, but then her face lights up.

“Butterscotch!” she announces triumphantly, and we both giggle.

# # #

Originally published in Emerge Literary Journal.