Writing My Great-Great-Grandmother’s Escape From Eastern European Antisemitism as Gothic Horror
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The very first words of my novel Odessa are my grandmother Lynn’s. Her Yahrzeit is approaching, the first anniversary of her death. It’s a strange Spring. Memories of her are layering over the days leading up to the novel’s publication, and they are so strongly woven together that excitement and grief have become inextricable. In my grandmother’s final months, during her moments of lucidity, I would remind her about the book (and her face would light up with pride, the news new and wonderful eve
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