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Last week, Booknik was especially taken with human stupidity, families with many kids, religious feelings, Potlatch and Georgian Jews’ weddings, sweet school cornets, cartoons, comic strips, and klezmer, the fall season cinema, the Baku design office, Sergei Dovlatov’s work, and princesses. To adjust to all these, he had to take tea, eat tuna sandwiches, and walk in Vienna. At the same time, Booknik Jr. listened to a cock crowing, learned from Hillel, studied pennies with holes in them, and prepared for school.
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Last week, Booknik read Mordecai Richler, Ted Chiang, and José Saramago, looked for a Jewish trace in the murder of the Great Prince (without success), marveled at Mickey Mouse over Roman ruins, and the art in Israeli streets, remembered Efraim Sevela, watched an action movie of the 80s made my Sylvester Stallone in 2010, mused on ethics, the power of words, and the love of reading, boiled some eggs, learned K-words, and trained to praise children. Booknik Jr. walked around Riga, Tallinn, Moscow, and Jerusalem, read about a boy who just went to school, and learned a few new things about King Solomon.
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Last week, Booknik read essays about House M.D., the sequel to The Island of Crimea, and confessions of a French comedian, attended exhibitions on mikvahs and radical Jewish music, watched a documentary on brain manipulation, cooked a vorschmack and a Yemeni flatbread, had Young Pioneer dreams, studied bees, remembered Dudu Topaz, and listened to Psoy Korolenko and Olga Chikina. Booknik Jr. did not waste time either, for he made friends with a wolf in a wardrobe, visited the Yekaterinburg Zoo, dissembled a steam cooker, and recited some poetry.
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Last week, Booknik did some spying, and created a secret organization. He also observed the conflict of revolutionaries and their children, read some Asar Eppel, talked about Lyubov Freydkina, attended a puppet show, and visited the place where the Hasidism was born. This is not all, for he also sent in his reports from Judaic wars in blogs, found more photos from his birthday party, watched I Love You Phillip Morris, and El secreto de sus ojos, received a letter from behind the Wall, listened to Kurt, learned some K-words, answered the Eshkolot Project’s questions, had a walk in Stockholm, and ate some baklava. Booknik Jr. led a swell life as well—he learned how heroes usually find their brides, ran away with an elf, listened to the final poem by Kadya Molodovsky, alas, and read a book about the first Hebrew boy.
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Last week, Booknik learned a lot about Yehuda Halevi, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, pride, prejudice, and zombies, Nazimova, Anne Frank, Jewish cemeteries, crusaders’ fortresses, the Christianization of Kievan Rus', an aphrodisiac salad, fricassee in France and Israel, the writing Singer Brothers, the “blood for blood” principle, kippah and ketubah, children’s sexuality, and Jewish dads. In the meantime, Booknik Jr. read some poetry, ate some blintzes, made a lamb, and learned ten commandments.
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Last week, Booknik was interested in traditions and crises, the Mimuna, chances, the author of Ground Up, his own birthday, the festival of living sculptures, Israeli film festivals, old Hollywood movies with leopards in them, Tel Aviv residents, Jews in commerce, the Yiddish Fest, the soup that looks like a salad, and the scandalous Israeli president. Booknik Jr., at the same time, took to two Torah experts, a kid’s scary tale, silent umbrellas, rosy and roses, great Jews, and special children.
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Last week, Booknik read novels about soccer, returning to Moscow, and the Black Square. He also read Talmud where he discovered St. Paul, and a play about Dreyfus. He answered our readers’ questions, admired Marcel Reich-Ranicki, and Hershel Shanks, opened doors, and watched Predators. And this is not the end: he also finished the Jewish Hokku Contest, looked into politicians’ souls, listened to Psoy Korolenko, learned some K-words, cooked soy dishes, and salted salmon. Meantime, Booknik Jr. learned from Friedensreich Hundertwasser, asked questions, walked in mini Israel, listened to the Booknik Radio, and read a book about a general.
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Last week, Booknik read books by Stieg Larsson and Tony Barlam, a study by Yoav Regev, talked to Matisyahu, watched some Israeli movies, attended the Eshkol picnic, and Eshkolot lectures, walked around Tel Aviv at night, learned something new about chicken, listened to Israeli unemployed, talked about himself, voted for the best hokkus, lived with sense and pleasure, listened to Frank London, learned some K-words, strolled through Madrid with the kids, and cooked a spicy soup. In the meantime, Booknik Jr. learned the story of Berek, read some Alfred Szklarski, cooked some gazpacho, met a cricket, and asked his readers a lot of questions.
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Last week, Booknik read Mr. Pratchett, and tested food, prepared to answer his readers’ questions, and spoke with Dora and Velvel from the Coen Brothers’ film, learned who Raziel was, and journeyed through Ukrainian and Moldovan towns, remembered Yakov Tubin, and watched a movie about ultraorthodox drug traffickers, learned some I-words, and ate shawarma and a sandwich. Oh, and he saw a steam engine. He also learned how to speak with children about death, and how to live his life when his children are sent away to a summerhouse (and it is complicated on both counts). His junior, in the meantime, tried to understand how to be educated in a cheder, baked a casserole, listened to the Booknik Radio, read some comic strips by Tove Jansson, and went to science museums.
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Last week, Booknik read Nicholai Gogol, Olga Bergholz’s diaries, a novel by Ulyana Gamayun, and the autobiography by Vladimir Voinovich. He also talked to Mr. Voinovich about crucial things, walked in illuminated Jerusalem, attended the exhibition on the Jewish immigration in Germany, and Mark Rothko’s art show, watched Copie conforme at the Moscow Film Festival, studied tomatoes, thought about labor and diligence, learned I-words, abandoned stick-counting, and cooked cold beetroot soup. Booknik Jr. read Gianni Rodari, continued reading the story of Abraham, listened to a poem about a birdie and the sun, and rode kiddy railroads.
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