Teitlebaum's Window

Teitlebaum's Window

Wallace Markfield

Language: English

Pages: 387

ISBN: 1564782190

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Welcome to Brighton Beach of the 1930s and early '40s as filtered through Simon Sloan, from youth to would-be artist-as-a-young-man at Brooklyn College to the eve of his induction into the army. Wallace Markfield perfectly captures this Jewish neighborhood--its speech, its people, its unique zaniness.

But like any masterpiece--Joyce's "Dubliners" comes readily to mind--"Teitlebaum's Window "both survives and expands upon its time and place. While remaining rooted in the specifics of its own world, thirty-seven years after first being published it teems with Markfield's inventiveness, hilarity, and singular voice.

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"My trouble is, duh, when I wake up, duh, it's very very HARD!" "The kids of today," said Steinbrink. "Today's kids," said Zwerkel. "I'll say to you"—from behind an ear Madam Ducoff fetched a cigarette—"I'll say to you what the elephant said to the mouse." She shook out of her hair a fat wooden match. "When the mouse was making love on him: 'You know, you're working on my nerves.'" She struck the match, and in her rage broke off the head. "Hey, Marshey," cried Boomie, "she needs a match."

nickel apiece we'll all piss on you, and we all three ran like anything. We ran practically to Ocean Parkway even though the guy wasn't running after. Boomie figured we were maybe shmuks not to go with the guy, that if we asked him a half a buck he'd give us a half a buck. We went on Bay 6 a while. As the sun was very strong we took off our shirts and our undershirts. A lot of people even went in the water and we were sorry we didn't have on bathing suits. All of a sudden it jumped in my mind how

despairingly, "It's not double-spaced!" "These words are of Jewish vulgar idiom because I had the necessity of dealing herein, within the poem, with my grandfather. He was an elderly Jewish man. Finally, this is final .. ." "Whee," whispered Adelee. "Whoo," whispered Rita. "Sincerely I would be quite appreciative to get whatever criticism and critique can be given of any aspect of the social values." He lowered, then lifted his eyes. "In the poem . . . social values . .. aspect." No

chair. "Cynthia runs to window." Rita ran in place. "Cynthia looks out of window and down into the barren and bourgeois street of Flatbush Avenue and Newkirk." "You changed that," said Adelee. "She changed that," she told the group. "Originally it was Avenue P and Ocean Parkway." "Cynthia arrives at a decision. She turns from window, goes to closet, takes out a valise." "When it comes to barren and bourgeois streets," insisted Adelee, "you can't beat Flatbush Avenue and Newkirk." "cynthia:

friend. A good friend who doesn't want to see you hurt. Did you think it over, did you reconsider, or are you still ay-ay-ay for Roosevelt?" "For Roosevelt—for Roosevelt pluh-hus his missus," Simon's father cried hotly. "Then your manager is the bearer of bad news. Because I was informed"—Yahrblum drew Simon and his father behind the ticket booth—"the reliable source told me"—he swished his cane operatically—"Roosevelt. . . that Mr. Roosevelt . . . sucks." "Roosevelt sucks?" "Believe it,

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