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150 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1983
As I’ve already said, his youngest son, Leopold, had settled in Belgium. Once, a man he knew there came to see the family while visiting the USSR. He was called Monya. Monya brought Grandpa a tuxedo and a huge inflatable giraffe. The giraffe, it turned out, was really a hat rack. Monya railed against capitalism, was enthusiastic about socialist industry, then went home. Soon afterward, Grandpa was arrested and charged with being a Belgian spy. He was given ten years “without correspondence privileges.” What this really meant was that he was shot. Anyway, he would never have survived ten years in a prison camp. Hunger is hard for a healthy man to endure, arbitrary rules and brutality even more so…
Sometime before the Second World War, my uncle decided to apply to the university to study philosophy, a natural decision for a young man who had no concrete goal as yet. People whose orientation in life is vague and cloudy are often the ones who dream of studying philosophy.
My father always liked to cut a figure, so it’s no wonder he became an actor. Life appeared to him as grand theater…
It was all neither comedy nor tragedy, but drama. In the end, good triumphed over evil. Base impulses were counterbalanced by high passions. Happiness and grief ran in the same harness. The main character would stand revealed in all his stature.
The main character was none other than my father himself.
