Category: Novels
On a low stool in the middle of the only room in our mud hut sat my father--his red beard falling over the Book of Isaiah open before him. On the tile stove, on the benches that were our beds, even on the earthen floor, sat the neighbors' children, learning from him the ancien...
Between buildings that loomed like mountains, we struggled with our bundles, spreading around us the smell of the steerage. Up Broadway, under the bridge, and through the swarmi...
3. Part IIIBlind passion swayed me as I walked out of the Immigrant School, not knowing where I was going, not caring. One moment I was swept with the fury of indignation, the next moment...
1. Part IOn a low stool in the middle of the only room in our mud hut sat my father--his red beard falling over the Book of Isaiah open before him. On the tile stove, on the benches that...