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The paper sheds light on Isaac Goldemberg's The Fragmented Life of Don Jacobo Lerner and Mario Szichman's At 8:25 Evita Became Immortal to bring in focus the Latin American marginal in spatial and ethnic terms. The spatial in the said novels is traced in the shady peripheries that have given refuge to those who have been ousted by the privileged. The ethnic is manifested by the community of migrant Jews who remain in the constant fear of a pogrom being around the corner. Lima, in Goldemberg, and Buenos Aires, in Szichman, were the two major cultural hubs of Latin America during the late 20th century. Yet there existed a deep-rooted anti-Semitic wave that often goes unvoiced in the mainstream Latin American literature. The paper attempts to underscore the importance of Goldemberg and Szichman's novels with respect to a hegemonic universality, represented by the texts, where the plural voices of the spatial and ethnic marginals coexist subverting the absolute frame of power. Keywords: Hegemony, marginal, space, performativity, universalism, particularism

Chaim Potok’s novel My Name is Asher Lev uses as its central image a crucifixion, a complicated form for its Jewish protagonist to use. Though Potok and Asher understand the form to be merely an aesthetic mold, this article argues that the novel can be best read in reference to both the Hasidic and Christian teachings on atonement, a reading which better appreciates the communicative potential of the crucifixion regarding the Lev family’s work of atonement, particularly in the themes of suffering and sacrifice it images.

Anna Margolin’s innovative poetry has attracted the attention and admiration of Yiddish cultural research centers and literary critics worldwide. However, Rosa Lebensbaum—the real woman behind this pseudonym—has remained hidden for many years under the shadow of her well-known public figure. A family archive, carefully preserved by Rosa Lebensbaum’s granddaughter in Israel, now allows the attention to be turned from Anna to Rosa. Private correspondence between Lebensbaum and her family—her divorcé, author Moshe Stavsky, and their son—reveals contradictions and understandings that illuminate new aspects in the poet’s writing, as well as in her life and the lives of those around her. Based on this newly presented personal material, this article explores two aspects in the context of the life and writing of Rosa Lebensbaum; the first is personal while the other is cultural-historical. There was, on the one hand, a national, social, and creative renewal inspired by the Zionist movement, encouraging Jews to return to the land of Israel and the Hebrew language; yet, on the other hand, an American Jewish attempt to preserve and maintain the Yiddish culture, the language of exile against which the Jewish Yishuv in pre-state Israel fought vigorously. This clash of culture and languages—its implications and the price that many Jews were required to pay in pre-state Israel and America—form an additional central topic in this research.

When everything fell apart for Lynn Melnick, she went to Dollywood. It was perhaps an unusual refuge. The theme park, partly owned by and wholly named for Dolly Parton, celebrates a country music legend who grew up in church and in poverty in rural Tennessee. Yet Dollywood is exactly where Melnick-a poet, urbanite, and daughter of a middle-class Jewish family-needed to be. Because Melnick, like the musician she adores, is a survivor. In this bracing memoir, Melnick explores Parton's dual identities as feminist icon and objectified sex symbol-identities that reflect the author's own fraught history with rape culture and the grueling effort to reclaim her voice in the wake of loss and trauma. Each chapter engages with the artistry and cultural impact of one of Parton's songs, as Melnick reckons with violence, creativity, parenting, abortion, sex work, love, and the consolations and cruelties of religion. Guided by Parton's music, Melnick walks the slow path to recovery in the company of those who came before her and stand with her, as trauma is an experience both unique and universal. Candid and discerning, I've Had to Think Up a Way to Survive is at once a memoir and a love song-a story about one life and about an artist who has brought life to millions.

Two recent anthologies of Canadian writing – and – reflect stances of resistance to mainstream institutional understandings of Canadian writing culture. They highlight recent scandals in academia and in literary communities, as well as highlighting the voices of Indigenous and women writers. These stances echo earlier forms of cultural revolution in Canada, in particular the manifesto, which provoked conventional Quebec society in the late 1940s. This paper contrasts these forms of refusal with a period in the 1950s and 1960s when influential Jewish writers, including Leonard Cohen and Irving Layton, took a counter-cultural stance while appearing in mainstream venues offered to them by CBC television and radio.

No detailed description available for \"Futurity\".

Yehudit Hendel's Le-yad kefarim sheketim (Near Quiet Places, 1987), which follows her 1986 visit to Poland, is read mostly as part of a broader discussion of Israeli Holocaust literature rather than as a vital part of Hendel's oeuvre. This paper seeks to weave this work “back” into her corpus and to offer a new reading of one of her less discussed books. Although Hendel states that her journey followed a spur-of-the-moment decision, the intense presence of the Holocaust in her work from its inception suggests a different story. Furthermore, the evidence of material from Hendel's literary estate requires not only that we rethink the trips she planned but never carried out during her journey but also that we take a fresh look at some trips that may have taken place yet were left out of her book. Hendel's journey is a spectral, melancholic journey, which, as manifested in Le-yad kefarim sheketim, proves to be the only one possible.

While some Jewish immigrant autobiographies have received broad critical attention, a few important autobiographical endeavours have been underrepresented or almost forgotten. Autobiographies written by Jewish female writers who immigrated to America from Russia, Poland, or Galicia often draw a bifurcated picture of their struggles in callous New York sweatshops, or, on the contrary, they exalt the Jews’ notable success while blending in the American melting pot. Scarce studies, however, have been devoted to the dislocation and uprootedness of female immigrants and to the nostalgic feelings they have experienced during their absorption into American reality. This paper intends to resuscitate the forgotten voice of a Jewish immigrant female writer, Rose Gollup-Cohen. Moreover, using primarily psychoanalytical methodology and a feminist theory, the paper focuses on the nostalgic feelings that immigrants reverted to. Finally, it deals with both the therapeutic and the destructive powers of compulsive writing and shows how the writing process assists an immigrant writer when coping with distress experienced in her new homeland, but, on the other hand, it also demonstrates how compulsive writing may lead to obsessive behaviours, resulting in losing awareness of one’s surroundings, neglecting one’s family, and even to depression and suicide.

Readers of histories of twentieth-century Chinese literature might search in vain for Ho Ro-se's name. Yet she was very well known in China in the 1920s and 1930s, mainly for her book Love and Duty ([TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII], Lianai yu yiwu), which she published in 1923 under the pen name of Luo Chen. In 1931, the appearance of a film based on the novel added to its popularity. Widely read among Chinese intellectuals and seen by many large audiences, the novel and the film dealt with a crucial May Fourth issue: arranged marriages. Although she had grown up not in China but in eastern Europe, the book's Jewish author approached the topic with remarkable sensitivity. Avoiding pat solutions, she regarded the marriage question as integral to larger social issues that needed attention, including early childhood education, the assigning of a different role to women within the family structure, and, consequently, male awareness of male and female roles. A second and equally important message of the novel is that things take time. While love, marriage and other issues are interrelated, they cannot all be solved at once. One by one, each will be taken care of in its own way.