A riveting and grimly comic collection, Arrest is the account of a Moldavian-Jewish dissident's interrogation by the KGB, his subsequent imprisonment in a labor camp, and a difficult emigration with his family from the former Soviet Union. The author's life is the source for this fiction, narrated by a character named Lazarus Trubman-a survivor scarred by his experience, who finds a new home in the USA.
Here are samples from a stunning novella in stories:From "A Casual Chat About Nothing""The millstones of history never stop, " he had said. "That's why it is very important not to get between them. In your case though, it's a bit too late, my friend. Your hands were already caught when I got you." And I understood: that's all they needed, a hand, even a finger, then it was only a matter of time to squeeze my body and mind between the rusty millstones and grind me into a flat, blind, obedient human being.
Just one fucking finger!From "An Unexpected Sunday Tourist"I was dismayed by the thought: I could have stabbed him in the back with my military knife. I knew I hadn't done it. But why didn't I? I hadn't dreamed it either; I merely woke with the thought: a stab in the back as he bent down for his rucksack would have killed him instantly.
A riveting and grimly comic collection, Arrest is the account of a Moldavian-Jewish dissident's interrogation by the KGB, his subsequent imprisonment in a labor camp, and a difficult emigration with his family from the former Soviet Union. The author's life is the source for this fiction, narrated by a character named Lazarus Trubman-a survivor scarred by his experience, who finds a new home in the USA.
Here are samples from a stunning novella in stories:From "A Casual Chat About Nothing""The millstones of history never stop, " he had said. "That's why it is very important not to get between them. In your case though, it's a bit too late, my friend. Your hands were already caught when I got you." And I understood: that's all they needed, a hand, even a finger, then it was only a matter of time to squeeze my body and mind between the rusty millstones and grind me into a flat, blind, obedient human being.
Just one fucking finger!From "An Unexpected Sunday Tourist"I was dismayed by the thought: I could have stabbed him in the back with my military knife. I knew I hadn't done it. But why didn't I? I hadn't dreamed it either; I merely woke with the thought: a stab in the back as he bent down for his rucksack would have killed him instantly.