Religion & Spirituality
When Sholem Aleichem, the creator of Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof, died in New York in 1916, ten thousand people attended his funeral. He is the most beloved writer in the history of Yiddish literature. February 18, 2009 marks the 150th anniversary of the birth of the great Yiddish humorist as well as the 100th anniversary of the publication of Wandering Stars.
Wandering Stars is Aleichem’s sprawling love story spanning ten years and two continents, and set in the colorful world of the Yiddish theater. In a Russian shtetl at the end of the nineteenth century, Reizel, daughter of a poor cantor, and Leibel, son of a rich man, fall under the spell of a traveling Yiddish acting company. Together they run off to join the theater but quickly become separated. Reisel goes on to become Rosa Spivak, concert star, and Leibel becomes Leo Rafalesko, theatrical sensation. Kept apart by their own successes and by the managers who exploit their talent, they tour the world until their wanderings bring them both to New York
Read the first two chapters of Wandering Stars (Continued...) :
As long as Benny's household had existed, it had never happened that a child was missing from the dinner table. The father became angry and commanded: "Let them bring the youngest lamb from the flock!" Benny meant that they were to bring the youngest one from the cheder. They sent a messenger to Yisroyeli the cantor's cheder to bring Leibel home for supper.
The Rafalovitches were already eating the last course, the fresh corn, when the messenger returned with the news that Leibel had not gone to the cantor's house that day and that a tragedy, may it not happen here, had befallen the cantor and his wife: their daughter, their only daughter, had vanished during the night without a trace.
This news hit the family like a bombshell. They sat staring at one another. What each of them was thinking at that moment was hard to know—they kept their thoughts to themselves. Only the old lady, who was used to speaking her mind, said loudly and clearly, as her head wobbled: "Have a look in the desk drawer. I could swear that in the middle of the night I heard someone stirring in the dark while the young man"—she indicated Sison v'Simcha—"was snoring so loudly he could have woke the dead."
Old people have such odd ideas! What did she mean, Sison v'Simcha was snoring? If a fly were to alight in the room, he would have heard it, so light was his sleep! Still and all, the sleepy bookkeeper stood up with effort, took his time wiping off his hairy upper lip with his greasy hand, and fished out a ring of keys from his trouser pocket. Slowly, unhurriedly, he unlocked the middle drawer of the oaken desk, peered inside—and stood paralyzed. His sleepy, puffy eyes seemed to glaze over, and he could not speak so much as a word.
Benny came to his aid: "For God's sake, speak!" he thundered, so loudly that Sison v'Simcha began to shake.
Though tongue-tied and snuffling through his stuffed nose, the bookkeeper found words: "Believe me, these keys were with me all night, in my pants pocket. Believe me, I didn't sleep a wink, heard not the slightest noise. Come see for yourself—the drawer is now empty, not a trace!"
At these words someone at the table uttered a stifled scream, keeled over, and fell into a faint.
It was tiny, frail, quiet little Beylke.
Read other books about Yiddish culture and the Jewish immigrant experience:
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