The Lost Solos
Published in Issue #14 Translated from Hebrew by Sondra Silverston(Excerpt from a Novel)
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You’d think a story like this would have spread by word of mouth, whispered in stairwells or bedrooms, detail after detail, generation after generation, but wonder of wonders, right after the incident occurred, despite the witnesses, genuine eyewitnesses, people did not speak of it, neither in Hebrew nor Russian nor American, as if they had decided to cover up the scandal with flakes of time, with seconds heaped upon minutes, like snow. After all, no one would believe it anyway.
But if, let’s say, a ladder were to be placed against the western wall of the city hall building at midnight, and agile legs were to climb it rung after rung, and a firm hand were to push open the right window – no need to break it, Reuven from Archives likes to leave it slightly ajar, for the breeze – then without delay, the light switch could be flicked on and the strictly formal letter – From: Jeremiah Mendelstrum, Hillborn, New Jersey; To: the Mayor – could be found after only minimal browsing, waiting there in the slightly frayed binder Donations 1993-1994 that stands on a very bottom shelf of the second aisle.
A word of caution: though the letter is formal, it is not at all short. Apparently the same thing happened to Jeremiah Mendelstrum that sometimes happens to people who wield a pen: the pen began to wield him. And perhaps loneliness, always the ultimate reason, made its contribution as well. Because despite his original intention to make a brief, direct proposal, Mr. Mendelstrum surprisingly devotes the first two pages to a...
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