isaac bashevis singer's shosha
long weekends were made for rereading old favorites, and this story certainly falls into that category for me. it's a demented, tragic love story, the kind no one seems to write anymore. the main character of course is a writer who has semi-abandoned his strictly religious upbringing, and whose companions include other writers, weird actresses, communists, and the title character--a childhood friend who never grew up. pretty typical for pre-WWII warsaw. :) i'd say that this novel is less mystical than a lot of singer's shorter works, but of course many of the characters engage in frequent conversations about god, mediums, ghosts, and the like. anyway, it's hard to pin down this sort of story without giving too much of it away, so let me just note that it's one of singer's classic novels, and i'll leave it at that.
No comments:
Post a Comment