A second “helping” of Words of the Week because I haven’t been able to forget this passage since reading it—a section in Ben Marcus’s “Cold Little Bird,” a short story in last week’s issue of The New Yorker.
Maybe current events have something to do with that.
Shabbat shalom.
Stabbings have no siren so we don’t know when to run.
There are no cute little songs for my kids to learn in preschool and sing before they go to sleep each night, before they say the Sh’ma.
Stabbings can happen anywhere at any time.
Stabbings can happen in a park on a quiet bench. They can happen in the market, with soldiers standing just a few steps away. They can happen in front of a school or in a synagogue or on the street.
Everyone is on edge right now — most of us feel that prickle of fear just below the neck or deep in our stomachs — because when these attacks are random, everyone is a potential target.
Everyone.
Source: Sarah Tuttle-Singer, “There Are No Sirens Before a Stabbing” (Times of Israel)
See also: the latest “Sunday Sentence” on my other blog, Practicing Writing.
Technically, these aren’t writings from my bookshelf. I’ve read them on a screen.
And technically, they aren’t books. Not yet anyway.
They are writings by Suzanne Reisman about her grandparents. And they are well worth your time. (more…)
