Without a Trace – Chapter 14

September 14, 2012

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 14 of a new online serial novel, Without a Trace, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.

Gavriel hadn’t even gotten to “Borei me’orei ha’eish”when the phone began to ring. One ring, followed by another and another. Shevi picked up the receiver, waited the few requisite seconds until the caller would realize that Havdalah was being recited, and then hung up.

Gavriel had hardly finished drinking and making the brachah acharonah when the phone began to ring again. This time, Shevi was at the sink with her hands deep in the suds, so he answered the call.

“Yes, Ima,” Shevi heard him say. “Oh, was it you before? We were just making Havdalah.” He listened for a minute with the familiar expression on his face, and Shevi’s heart sank. “A waste of a call? For who?” He was quiet again. “Oh, we really never thought about it like that. In a lot of places they do this; it’s so that the caller will know that we can’t speak right now.”

Elinor tactfully slipped out of the kitchen. Keep Reading…


Without a Trace – Chapter 13

September 3, 2012

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 13 of a new online serial novel, Without a Trace, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.

 

Chasida’s father was outside talking to a salesman, while Chasida was inside handling an eight-year-old customer whose mother had sent her to buy a bottle of rosemary oil. The girl, however, was sure that the item she needed was one of the bottles of flaxseed oil on the next shelf over.

“My mother showed me the empty bottle,” the girl insisted. “This is exactly what it looked like, really!” A few long minutes passed until the stubborn little girl agreed to take the bottle Chasida was offering her.

Is stubbornness an acquired trait or an inborn one? Chasida wasn’t quite sure.

The salesman walked into the store, followed by Mr. Dresnick. “Just sign here and I’ll be on my way,” the tall man said, placing a medium-sized box on the counter. “Do you want a few samples of this, too?”

“What is it?” Mr. Dresnick asked.

“A new cream from Goren to treat localized burns.”

The older man’s eyes automatically shifted to his daughter, who had suddenly become very busy sorting the small change in the cash register. The clink of the coins was the only sound that broke the silence.

“So?” The salesman’s patience was wearing thin.

“I don’t think so,” Zalman hastily replied. “What do you say, Chasida?”

A few single shekel coins fell under the counter, giving Chasida reason to disappear behind it. When she stood up, she blinked rapidly and answered distractedly. “What?”

“Should we take Goren’s cream?”

“To treat burns?”

Her father nodded. She didn’t respond, and the salesman, getting sick of watching this peculiar exchange, interjected, “If you don’t want it, just say no. Please sign here for the delivery, without the cream.” Keep Reading…


Recent Release – Ginzei Hakodesh

September 3, 2012

I don’t know about you, but come Motza’ei Shabbos, my house looks like an avalanche of papers—newspapers, magazines, my daughter’s parshah sheets and projects, among many others. Of course everything contains words of Torah in some form or another, and so every week, there I stand, wondering how to clean up the great mess. What am I allowed to throw out? (Never the parshah projects, of course—those must live on until eternity, if I wish to preserve peace in my house and keep three-year-old temper tantrums at bay.) And how am I allowed to do it? Single wrapping, double wrapping—or perhaps it doesn’t need any wrapping?

You can therefore imagine my happiness and relief when I heard about the release of Sefer Ginzei Hakodesh. Finally, a sefer that tackles precisely my problem head-on! Now I can finally have some guidelines about how to dispose of papers with devarim she’bekedushah on them.

But when I leafed through the sefer, I saw that it contained much more than just guidelines about the above. It actually goes through the entire subject of how to respectfully treat any holy article or sefer. Are you allowed to use a shul as a short-cut? What about sitting on a bench that has a sefer on it? What do you do with your leftover Chanukah oil?

All of these questions—as well as many, many more—are answered in Sefer Ginzei Hakodeshand in such a clear and appealing manner, too. The format is easy on the eye, and the style and language pleasant to follow.

As one who is thrilled to have found such a book, I will be the first to tell you that Sefer Ginzei Hakodesh is a wonderful addition—really a must-have—for every Jewish household!

Click here to purchase online.


New Release – Moshe Goes to Yeshiva

August 30, 2012

He’s standing there, your little tzaddik’l, all stiff and smart in his new school-clothes, knapsack firmly in place on his back, penny for tzedakah taped securely to his shirt, all ready for the bus to come and whisk him off to yeshivah for the first time. At least he’s all ready, you’re thinking to yourself. But what about me?  I don’t know if I’m ready for this baby-to-big-kid transformation yet…

But as you attempt another brave smile at your new yeshiva boy, you suddenly notice that the big boy himself is beginning to look a little less macho… and a bit scared, too… He’s eyeing the yellow school bus that’s creeping closer to his stop, and…oh, no…his chin is starting to quiver…

Hold it right there, Mommy! Your little one will be just fine! Looks like he’ll be a perfect candidate for Moshe Goes to Yeshiva, that’s all!  Nothing like a great new book about a kid who feels just like him to smooth out those normal, first-day-of-school jitters…

Moshe Goes to Yeshiva is an excellent way to prepare your little son or daughter for the new school year. In this book, you’ll follow Moshe, about to start school for the first time, as he explores his fears on the subject, and then goes on to have a wonderful day in yeshiva. This book radiates reassurance to small children, as well as excitement, as they see, like Moshe, how much fun school can really be…

To purchase online click here.


Without a Trace – Chapter 12

August 27, 2012

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 12 of a new online serial novel, Without a Trace, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Zevi almost fell to the ground in fear when a voice that seemed to come out of nowhere commanded him to raise his hands. “I…I can’t,” he stammered, terrified to turn around. As such, he didn’t see the two bearded men emerging from the shadows of the trees and approaching him.

“This is the police. I said to raise your hands!” Eliyahu repeated in a slightly less confident tone. The contrast between the youth’s white shirt and black pants was very clear from such a close vantage point.

Zevi took a deep breath. “I’m not a thief,” he said tremulously. “I…I got stuck here. Can someone help me get down, please?”

Eliyahu and Gavriel exchanged glances. “Who are you?” Gavriel finally asked, standing near the plastic gate that surrounded the laundry lines. Now he could see the boy’s tzitzis as well.

“I’m Mr. Dresnick’s grandson…” Zevi dared to turn around cautiously, grasping the metal bar tightly with his sweaty hand. “I didn’t have a key and I thought I could get in from here.”

“How long have you been stuck like this?” Gavriel asked, stepping over the plastic barrier. First and foremost, they had to help the kid.

“I don’t know,” Zevi said, and looked at the friendly man who was coming to his aid. The man wanted to help him get down, and that was good. But his shoe and sock were in the house! His left foot was bare! Zevi had to find a way to get down without them noticing. Keep Reading…


Without a Trace – Chapter 11

August 17, 2012

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 11 of a new online serial novel, Without a Trace, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

The hall in Yerushalayim was buzzing with excited chatter of conversations trying valiantly to make themselves heard over the thudding of the drums, the glass plates clinking onto the table, and the clatter of cutlery attempting to cut the schnitzels that had cooled down during the round of dancing which had just come to an end. Chasida sat at one of the tables, one hand sticking the last bits of the challah roll into her two-year-old niece’s mouth, and the other patting the baby’s back.

She was playing full-time babysitter this evening. Yitzchak’s younger sister-in-law was getting married tonight, and had she not promised her sister-in-law Faigy that she’d come to help her with the little ones, she would have been glad to stay at home. But Faigy didn’t have any big daughters who could help her—only big boys—and she had really pleaded with Chasida. And Mrs. Dresnick had added that there was no way Chasida could not come to Tzivia’le’s wedding. After all, she was the mechutanim’s youngest child. So Chasida had closed the store half an hour early to be able to travel to Yerushalayim.

The mechuteiniste, Faigy and Tzivia’s mother, thanked her effusively for coming and gave her an emotional brachah, but it wasn’t hard to discern the young kallah’s unease. At Yitzchak and Faigy’s wedding, more than twenty years earlier, she had been ten months old. Chasida clearly remembered the blue-eyed baby who refused to part with her mother for even a minute; when the mothers walked around the chassan with Faigy under the chuppah, Tzivia had howled so much that her mother had had no choice, and the little girl had joined the last two revolutions. And then there was the missing pacifier that half the guests spent several long moments on the floor looking for, until one of Faigy’s brothers had run to find an open store so they could buy another one.

But Chasida didn’t even dream of repeating these incidents to the young, excited kallah. They likely didn’t interest her at this moment, and besides, it’s not pleasant to see people discomfited and know that it’s because of you. This twenty-three-year-old kallah, who had indubitably endured her fair share of worrying that she would become an old spinster, did not need to see Chasida up close right now.

“Eat, eat, it’s good,” her mother told Malka’le, who kept stubbornly closing her mouth as the fork approached. Keep Reading…


Without a Trace – Chapter 10

August 3, 2012

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 10 of a new online serial novel, Without a Trace, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

It was almost two days after Gavriel had found a small bag on the door when Shevi went down to the Dresnicks. The bag had held a tiny bottle and a note, which said, “Shevi, it was very nice to meet your mother in the garden, but it’s a shame she had to come under such circumstances. She told be about your ear. These are drops that I’ve heard are very effective. I don’t remember how many drops you need and how often, but just read the instructions. Refuah sheleimah, Chasida.”

Shevi didn’t know if it was the natural drops or the doctor’s antibiotics, but she was finally feeling well enough to go downstairs to say thank you. No one answered her knocks, and although it wasn’t during regular store hours, Shevi decided to try the Dresnicks’ store. She passed the large tree, touching it gently, and wondering if perhaps she should try to draw it, as her mother had suggested. Miri gave her enough free time, and the tree branches looked complex enough to keep her busy sketching for a long time. Maybe she could even open an art group… No, she had no professional training, and to just teach girls to draw a house and a path—their mothers could do that just fine without paying her their hard-earned money.

Just behind the tree, with her back to the trunk, stood Chasida. She was wearing an outfit that Shevi did not recognize, and something about her hair was strange. “I never understood why,” Chasida’s voice said, “and I’m always the worrywart among us!” She moved a bit and then Shevi saw the second person. It was also Chasida, but with her regular auburn hair and her ubiquitous navy ensemble. Keep Reading…


Without a Trace – Chapter 9

July 27, 2012

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 9 of a new online serial novel, Without a Trace, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Shevi’s mother scraped the last plate and placed it on the counter. Her daughter sat at the table, following her mother’s moves silently, in a near dreamlike state. Her mother wanted to wash the dishes? Fine. Nothing really made a difference to her right now. The dishes could dance in circles in the sink or wash one another, for all she cared.

“It’s a good thing Gavriel called me!” her mother said as she bent down to the cabinet under the sink, where, like at home in Haifa, the cleaning supplies were stored. “My daughter feels like this, and no one should help her?” She took out the bleach. “For the chagim I will buy you a dishwasher, do you hear me, Elisheva? A dishwasher! Who washes dishes these days?”

“Gavriel, sometimes,” Elisheva said weakly, and lay her head down on the table. She raised it almost immediately. The pain in her ear only grew worse in that position.

Nu, but he has his learning. There’s no reason for either of you to have to stand at the sink. If you don’t have a dishwasher, then at least use paper goods!” She glanced at her daughter. “Do you want to go lie down a bit? You’re pale.”

“The ear hurts much more when I lie down…” Shevi replied tiredly. Just a few days earlier she had parted from her parents, regretting that their visits were so rare, and now her mother was already here again.

“An ear infection,” the doctor had said in a surprised tone. Apparently he didn’t often have young women with ear infections—and in the summer to boot. Ear infections were much more prevalent among children, and in the winter. But Shevi wasn’t surprised; she knew she had always had sensitive ears that reminded her of their existence at least twice a year. Infections in the summer were not especially out of the ordinary for her.

Elinor came into the kitchen holding the broom. “Where’s your dustpan, Shevi?” Keep Reading…


Book Review – THE MALBIM ON IYOV: THE SEARCH FOR FAITH AND MEANING

July 25, 2012

BOOK REVIEW BY RABBI DOVID KAPLAN

THE MALBIM ON IYOV: THE SEARCH FOR FAITH AND MEANING

AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION OF THE MALBIM’S CLASSIC COMMENTARY ON THE BOOK OF JOB

Translated by Herbert Weisberg and Yosef Y. Kazarnovsky

 

Rav Moshe Sherer, z”l, was known for his efficiency and precision in just about all areas of life. He once noticed that a form of some sort had been left in the wrong place in the office, and he reacted with a touch of irritation. One of the office workers asked him why something so slight bothered him to such a degree.

He said, “If this isn’t right, what else isn’t right?”

Carelessness in one area indicates that carelessness exists elsewhere, with the result that things are not as they should be. Eventually the whole enterprise falls apart.

When a new book comes into my hands, the first thing I notice—without even making a conscious effort to do so—is the degree of professionalism. There is an old saying that says, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” Well, those in the know say, “Anyone who says you can’t judge a book by its cover has never been in the publishing industry.”

The resplendent cover of The Malbim on Iyov, published by Brand Name Publishing, is an indication that a professional and conscientious job follows between the covers of the book. One who spends time looking through this work will find that it is indeed a superb piece of workmanship.

The translators’ preface grabs you and kindles your interest. The layout incorporating the Hebrew and English translation of the entire sefer of Iyov is top-notch. But most important, of course, is the translation itself. The translators  clearly chose their words carefully in order to facilitate clarity in understanding the thickly obscure language and concepts of Iyov and the profound commentary of the Malbim.

When the translation of a Torah text comes out, the reaction of many is, “This is absolutely meant for beginners and novices.” However, this is not at all accurate. As the Novominsker Rebbe, shlita, wrote in his approbation to the Hebrew edition of the Schottenstein Shas, “A translation is an entryway for one to gain the basics and then be able to delve deeper.” This translation of the Malbim’s commentary on Iyov, while certainly indispensable for a novice, is just as beneficial for a veteran Torah scholar. When learning the Hebrew original of Iyov and the Malbim’s commentary, one certainly comes away with an understanding of what the Malbim wants to convey. However, seeing it in one’s “mama loshen”—in this case, English—can trigger a new depth of thought that comes from the subtleties of a finer understanding. Everyone at every level can gain from this exceptional work.

In any translation, one must strike a balance between literal translation and flowing readability at the expense of accuracy. This is a difficult challenge—especially so regarding the book of Iyov and its commentaries—but the translators succeeded to an impressive degree. All that is left is for the reader to take advantage of this outstanding work.

Brand Name Publishing, under the direction of Rabbi Hershel and Suri Brand, has once again lived up to the high standards that has come to be expected of them.

To order online click here.


Without a Trace – Chapter 8

July 20, 2012

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 8 of a new online serial novel, Without a Trace, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Zevi was searching for his comb, which seemed to have disappeared. It wasn’t in his case, nor in his drawer or on the dresser. Where could it be hiding? The silence in the room was broken only by his rapid breaths. The clock—that traitor. How could it creep ahead calmly for two hours, and then suddenly, in the last fifteen minutes, run so wildly, without giving him a second to breathe?

Yehuda Levy burst in, hair wet. “Eight more minutes!” he shouted. “Do we have candles?”

“I don’t,” Zevi said, finally pulling out the missing comb from under a bunched-up pajama top in the closet. “Maybe Yisrael bought some.”

“Even if he did, I have no intention of going through his closet to find them,” Yehuda said, rummaging in his own bag. “Clean socks, where are you? Ouch!” he cried as his bandaged finger slammed onto the open zipper. “When you have a second, Zevi, run and ask someone on this floor for candles.” Keep Reading