Issue 17

April, 2016 / Pesach 5776

Welcome to this splendid new issue of Jewish Fiction .net! Here you will find 25 first-rate works of fiction, originally written in Hebrew, German, and English. And in honour of Pesach, which starts on Friday night, we bring you three stories related to this holiday:“Matsah and Bagpipes,” “Egypt and the Desert,” and “Dumiyah.” (more)

Jay Neugeboren
Max Baer and the Star of David

Max arrived at the YMCA on Monday afternoon, August 24, 1959, accompanied by a young actress   (more...)

Nora Gold
The Dead Man

She’s never been obsessed before. This is her first time and it’s kind of interesting. It’s like watching some psychopath in a movie   (more...)

Asaf Schurr
The Building

This time of day there’s no one home, I thought. Only old people and the children, playing hooky from school...   (more...)

Yeshayahu Koren

Only sometimes, when he returned from the swamp behind the railway tracks, chewing grey eucalyptus leaves and holding red poppies...   (more...)

Zadock Zemach

Ezra Salim’s steps grew smaller and smaller as the ascent from Yosef-marrows to felafel-Shalom grew longer and steeper.   (more...)

Nina Vida
Escape to Shanghai

The Soviets marched into Kovno, and Mama’s hair turned white. It used to be the color of used bricks.   (more...)

Jean Ende
The Great Pizza War

Grandma Golda discovered pizza in the summer of 1953 at The Pelham Parkway Pizza Parlor...   (more...)

Peter Sichrovsky

The rabbi was a young man, not yet forty, not big, not small, with a round, heavy belly that hung over his belt.   (more...)

Yaacov Dovid Shulman
The Marvelous Revival of Rabbi Barton

Rabbi Barton, walking down the tree-lined path to the yeshiva study hall, inclined his head and analyzed a subtle Talmud passage.   (more...)

Shula Kopf
The View of his Last Exile

Max felt the humid breeze through the open doors leading to his narrow balcony. He had already walked the dog   (more...)

Raima Evan

Ruth’s mother leaned back in the rocker, her lipstick freshly applied, her purse on her lap, the tremor in her left hand constant.   (more...)

Jeffrey M. Green
Matzah and Bagpipes

Ordinarily Isaac erased emails from the Ivy League university he had graduated almost fifty years ago without looking at them.   (more...)

Harold Pupko
Dumiyah - A Fictional Tale of Terminal Lucidity

“Jew?!” menacingly intoned the desperate-looking man who was blocking my exit from the elevator   (more...)

Mary Glickman
An Undisturbed Peace

“Wait.” He put out a hand to grab her wrist and pull her back to the bed with him but she easily eluded his grasp.   (more...)

Alan Kaufman
The Dancer

First her neighbor Janey came stumbling through the lobby door and, as the dancer held the elevator for her...   (more...)

Bernie Schein
Business As Usual

It was early spring, 1968, in the small Lowcountry town of Somerset, South Carolina   (more...)

Tom Teicholz
Budapest Nocturne

A streetlamp flickered erratically as Hattay Sandor walked down the dark, damp alley, his hat pushed down over his brow   (more...)

Anne Corey
Leaving Home

Isak came home one day after working with his gutters and pipes and copper sheets and sat down on a slatted kitchen chair.   (more...)

Rochelle Distelheim
You Can Take Me, You Can Leave Me

Herschl. He’d disappeared. Now every morning, just before nine-thirty, Sadie posted herself at the corner   (more...)

Lester Gorn
The Reunion

Turning into the drive, the cab pulled up alongside the cars parked at the curb. The rear door opened, and the passenger stepped out into the cold dusk.   (more...)

Aaron Kreuter
Egypt and the Desert

Every Thursday, Daniel walked the four blocks to Jacob’s narrow townhouse, crossing the small square of lawn in two steps.   (more...)

Warren Warsaw
Delivery in Montmartre

At dawn, Suzanne steps outside her apartment at 52 rue Voltaire and realizes she might never walk back in.   (more...)

Mitch Ginsburg

School started on September first. It was a brutally hot day, the city still firmly in the claws of summer.   (more...)

Naomi Shepherd
Local Currency

The foundation stone of the Museum of Brotherhood had already been laid and excavation work begun...   (more...)

Mia Martos
The Story of a Boy and his Witch-Aunt

Shimshona remembered well when the boy was born. It was a warm summer day, and all the women of the family were hot   (more...)


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