Issue 6

Welcome to this very exciting issue of Jewish Fiction .net! It is with great pride that we share with you an excerpt from the first-ever translation into English of Agnon’s renowned novella, Ve'haya He'akov Le’mishor, as well as four other important first-time translations, from Hebrew, Russian, and Romanian. In addition, we bring you eight exceptional works of fiction written in English, coming from Australia, Canada, and the United States. The theme uniting this issue is Family... (more)

Not so many years ago, there lived in the town of Buczacz (may His city be rebuilt, amen) a fine and upright Jew by the name of Menashe Chaim Ha'Cohen... (more...)

She arrived with a group of women who stormed to touch the mezuzot on the doorposts with heart-rending wails; some even prostrated themselves...  (more...)

When I gave Me: a novel to a friend in manuscript, she wanted to know if it was fact or fiction. I said, well, isn't one man's fact another man's fiction? (more...)

It was dinner time at the Dubnyarskys. Roza was stirring two shriveled potatoes, belly up inside the murky water. (more...)

I’m getting weaker. Something is fading in me, like the dimming of lights or a slow sunset – almost unnoticed – into the gloom. (more...)

"What about my life now, Lilly?" Helen had begun, "My life is a different story altogether. I do not believe you can understand it." (more...)

At the end of the summer vacation, Fifi went downstairs, dressed in a long blue skirt purchased at Hoffman's in Allenby Street... (more...)

The Report from 1928 summarizes the “serious investigation” undertaken on December 31, 1928 by delegates I.M Wechsler and Suchar Feller... (more...)

Mother cuts my nails. The clippings fall into her palm and she places them on a tissue, careful not to drop any on the floor. (more...)

He dreamed that he was a woman, not just a woman but an old woman, not just an old woman but an infirm old Jewess in an absurd wig... (more...)

Regina has dressed carefully for this moment--for this rare lunch alone with her daughter, Rose--but the minute she steps into Lublow's... (more...)

Sarah Kessner knew brassieres. Since she was fourteen years old she had sat at a sewing machine stitching together the cups... (more...)