Latest work
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A shell game
Read more: A shell gameWhisper, and they whisper back. As a child, I collected souls (but it was only when the deities slumbered). It mattered little that I did not know just what a deity was, let alone a soul. What I did know, thanks to listening in on the fractured prattle of adults,…
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The basement war
Read more: The basement warThe wheel of history. In June 1967, I was a scaled-down Moshe Dayan in my bunker-like basement. Like the Israeli commander, I wore a pirate’s eyepatch and directed my tanks and soldiers toward the Gaza Strip, where Egyptian troops had gathered. The tanks and planes I had at my disposal…
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The lunatic
Read more: The lunaticThis is my house. I have to defend it. Iam the madman of my apartment block. I have this propensity that is entirely un-Italian: I leave my front door open wide. To be more precise, when I know someone is headed my way I spare them the additional step of…
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Vengeance unleashed
Read more: Vengeance unleashedHow many times do we have to say “Never again”? And at what point does it become a lie? Israel makes war under the cover of a legacy of victimhood. With impunity and at times indiscriminately, it attacks all that its Palestinian enemies possess with a relentless ardor that has…
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Misunderstanding General Giáp
Read more: Misunderstanding General GiápGeneral Giáp or a Jewish American Princess? Amy Bernstein was over and under and into the moon, and I was, by chance, the only boy within reach of her voracious lips. I was a ninth-grader in a junior high school whose basketball team — I was the scrawny statistician —…
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On Kissinger
Read more: On KissingerGoodbye to Kissinger. My father roundly disliked Henry Kissinger. Hindsight suggests this was prompted, at least at first, by the young Kissinger’s more-than-willing participation in the Nixon Administration, which he joined as national security advisor in 1969. And, yes, in that era to reach such heights in one’s 40s was…
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