Odessa Stories

Odessa

Odessa is a nasty place. Everybody knows that. Instead of saying “a big difference” Odessans say “two big differences”—and things like “dis-a-way, dat-a-way”. But it seems to me this significant and most charming of cities in the Russian Empire has a lot going for it. Just think of it—here’s a town where the living is light and easy. Half the population is Jewish, and Jews are a people that have a few simple things down pat. They marry so as not to be alone in this world, love so that their kind lives for ever, save money so that they can afford a home and an astrakhan jacket for the wife, and are philoprogenitive because loving your kids is just the right thing to do. Governors and circulars give the poor Jews no end of trouble, but it’s hard to make them change their ways, for these ways are age-old. You won’t change the Jews, and there’s a lot you can learn from them. To a large degree, it’s through their efforts that the atmosphere in Odessa has grown so light and easy.

The Odessan is the polar opposite of the Petrogradian. As a rule, Odessans make a killing in Petrograd. They earn money. Their dark hair bewitches soft-bodied blondes. And, in general, Odessans in Petrograd tend to settle on Kamennoostrovsky Avenue. I can just hear the objections: anecdotal evidence. No, sir—it happens every time. You see, these Odessan brunettes, they bring along a bit of sunshine and lightness.

But I have a feeling that...