Ellis Shuman's Blog, page 3

"Ten Minutes" - short story

When the sirens sounded at three in the morning, the five members of the Lutsky family jumped from their beds. This wasn’t the first time that the Houthis in Yemen had fired a missile at Israel, and it wasn’t the first time that their small moshav near Ramla was one of the areas alerted to the incoming attack, so the Lutskys were familiar with the drill. They ran downstairs to their safe room−a reinforced room on the ground floor that served as Natan’s office on the days he worked from home, and which would now provide protection for their family.

As she passed through the kitchen, five-year-old Miri glanced out the window. The sidewalk was lit by a streetlight; the Frenkels’ house next door was completely dark.

“Abba, there’s a man outside!” Miri said, stopping in her tracks.

“Hurry, Miri,” her mother Anat called from the doorway of the safe room. “We only have a minute to get in.”

The siren was still wailing, but Miri didn’t move. “That man doesn’t have a place to go! The rocket could hit him!”

“Which man?” Natan asked, joining his daughter in the kitchen. “I’m sure he’s okay,” he said, urging his youngest daughter to follow him to safety.

“He needs to come in!” Miri said. She brushed aside Matka, the family mutt, and said, “I’m opening the door.”

Read the rest of the story on Esoterica.

"Terms of Abandonment" - short story

The first time she saw him, her biological father refusedto speak with her. She had been waiting at the corner coffee shop, as agreed,but when he showed up, he didn’t even cross the street and approach her table.She remained there for half an hour after he walked off, her cappuccino coldand forgotten.

What kind of father was he to have had no concern for herall these years? Admittedly, she had rarely given him a second thought untilshe packed up her mother’s belongings in the weeks following her death anddiscovered the box of her memories. A high school yearbook, report cards fromgrade school, a trophy from a running competition. Dried flowers inside a smallbook of poetry. Nothing worth saving. She would remember her mother for otherthings. And then, at the very bottom of the box, several envelopes, the addresswritten in fading blue ink.

With shaking hands, she opened the first letter. Itstarted out with ‘Dearest Marjorie’ and every other sentence contained words ofendearment. ‘Love of my life’. ‘My Marjorie’. ‘Oh, my darling.’ Sweet nothings,Kitsch phrases for sure, yet they were words expressing passion, a connectionthat must have been just as strong for her mother.

His name was Emmanuel, but he signed his letters Manny.Even though everyone called her mother by her nickname, Marge, he addressed heras Marjorie, as if he was afraid of letting go of a single letter in her name.

Yet he had let her go. Shortly after her mother gavebirth, Emanuel disappeared from her mother’s life and never had he appeared inhers. Whenever she asked her mother to tell her about her father, beggingalmost, the discussion had been taboo. She learned nothing at all and thesubject was dropped.

Read the full story in In Parentheses Literary Magazine (Volume 9, Issue 2) Winter 2025. Available for purchase on MagCloud.

Review of "The Anatomy of Exile" by Zeeva Bukai

It'sJuly 1967, one month after the Six Day War. Tamar Abadi and her husband, Salim,are relaxing on a Tel Aviv beach when a radio broadcasts news of what appearsto be a terrorist attack. A woman has been killed by an Arab, and Salim is surethat his sister, Hadas, is the victim.

Inthe novel The Anatomy of Exile by Zeeva Bukai ((Delphinium Books,January 14, 2025), we learn that Hadas had lived with Tamar and Salim in amostly dilapidated Arab village on the outskirts of northern Tel Aviv. The Arabwho killed Hadas, Daoud, was from that village. Only Tamar knows the full storyof Hadas’s relationship with Daoud; she will keep this secret from Salim foryears.

Onthe morning after the thirty-day period of mourning for his sister, Salim,whose very name is evidence of his dual identity as both Arab and Jew,announces to Tamar and their three children, "We're going to America, toNew York City… Five years, that's all I need," he tells them. "I'mgoing to make so much money that when we return, we'll have enough to buy a carand a villa on the beach in Herzliya."

Butthe family’s stay in New York is becoming more permanent by the year. Theirexile is painful for Tamar. “The hours you put in. For what?” she asks herhusband. “Let’s go home.”

Asshe grows up, Tamar’s daughter Ruby forms a relationship with a Palestinianyouth who has moved into the apartment upstairs. Remembering the tragic storyof Hadas’s relationship with Daoud, Tamar is worried that history will repeatitself with her daughter. She is determined to keep Ruby and Faisal apart.

It’shard to believe that Anatomy of an Exile is a debut novel, for thestorytelling is rich with details and the author skillfully brings thecharacters to life with sentimentally charged dialogues. Every word thatcomes out of Ruby’s mouth is that of a typical teenager. Tamar’s longing anddoubt are deeply felt by the reader. Even Salim’s reluctance to give up on hisAmerican dream is understandable, if not acceptable.

Readerswill be captivated by this intimate journey of an Israeli family into theirself-imposed exile, and by the struggles of Tamar to keep her daughter safe,her marriage intact, and to find the way to bring her family back to thecountry she knows as home.

ZeevaBukai was born in Israel and raised in New York City. Her stories have beenpublished in Carve Magazine, Pithead Chapel, the Lilith anthology FranklyFeminist: Stories by Jewish Women, December Magazine, Image Journal,Jewishfiction.net, Women's Quarterly Journal, and the Jewish Quarterly. She isthe Assistant Director of Academic Support at SUNY Empire State University andlives in Brooklyn with her family.

 

Originally posted on The Times of Israel.

A Story in Which Two Yeshiva Students Come to a Shtetl

Two yeshiva bucherswent for a walk together and came to an unfamiliar village. It was Fridayafternoon and Shabbos was swiftly approaching. As the sun began to set, thestudents realized they would need to remain in the village until the end ofShabbos. But where would they partake of their Shabbos meal? And where wouldthey spend the night? They would need to ask the village rebbe for a solutionto their predicament.

I take a deep breathand hold the pages at a distance. The story, recently sent back to me by thefreelance Yiddish translator I found online, holds my attention. So simple andChelm-like, it transports me backwards in time, to another world and another mindset.

I pick up the originalhandwritten pages from the table. Pages I had discovered in the attic in a boxlabeled ‘Father’s writings.’ The pages had not been written by my father, butrather by my paternal grandfather. I was emptying the attic because I was sellingmy parent’s house. Three months had passed since my father’s death, and it wastime to put the past behind me. Proceeds from the house’s sale would be sharedwith my two sisters.

Read the rest of the story on OfTheBook.

Book Q&As with Deborah Kalb

I’vebeen writing ever since I was a boy. Creative writing was my favorite subjectin school, and the feedback from my teachers encouraged me. I wanted to followin my father’s footsteps—he was a journalist at the local newspaper—but I wasalways drawn to writing fiction. 

Myfirst book was a collection of short stories set in Israel, where I had movedwith my family at the age of 15. The stories were based on my experiencesliving on a kibbutz, a collective farming community in Israel’s southerndesert. Life on the kibbutz was evolving, from socialist idealism to moderncapitalism, and I strived to show these changes in my fiction. 

Iwrote two suspense novels set in Bulgaria, but I’ve gravitated to the craft ofwriting short stories. I enjoy the format of introducing characters and plotsin a limited number of words. In many ways, this is more challenging thanwriting a novel.

Read the full interview on Book Q&As with Deborah Kalb.

My Interview on Talk Radio Europe

I talked with Hannah Murray on Talk Radio Europe's 'The Book Show' in November. 

"Joining us on the line now is Ellis Shuman. He's an American-born Israeli author, travel writer, and book reviewer..."

You can hear the full interview here.

Farewell Twitter

It’s taken me a longtime to come to this decision but it’s time to say goodbye. I am closing myTwitter account.

It’s not because ofthe growing volume of antisemitic tweets, or the racism, misogyny, lies, andfake news that fill its threads. It’s not because of Elon Musk, or his decisionto rename the platform as X. It’s not because of Musk’s connection withpresident-elect Trump.

Well, those are someof the reasons. But also, it’s because I no longer have use for Twitter, or thetime suck it’s become in my online life.

I joined Twitter inJanuary 2013 as a way to connect with other authors. I had just published Valleyof Thracians, and I was eager to promote the book. Initially I had greatsuccess on the platform, quickly building up a following. I made efforts toconnect with each and every follower on a personal level. My tweets were beingread. Followers were clicking through to my blog and amazingly, I was sellingmy book.

I wrote about thoseearly Twitter days in How I Got 10,000 Twitter Followers in Less than 10 Months.

I believed I hadbecome an expert on the social media platform. In June 2016, I published anarticle entitled Ten Most Important Things You Need to Know About Working with Twitter on the Huffington Post. In the article I explained my TwitterPhilosophy. “Engage, do not sell” was my advice to fellow authors. My advicewas so extensive that I published a follow-up article entitled Five More Things You Need to Know About Twitter.

At that time, I had35,000 followers. I was using Hootsuite to schedule and publish multiple tweetsthroughout the day. I tweeted about my books, included links to my blogarticles, and shared my book reviews. I tweeted about Bulgaria, about Israel,and about the craft of writing. My tweets were being read.

In August 2016, Iwrote on Medium:

Using Twitter hasbeen, for me, a way to promote my writing. When I post a blog article, I tweetabout it to attract eyeballs, to get as many readers as possible. To make aname for myself.

Maybe that was asuccessful mission then, but I no longer see any benefits from using Twitter.

The platform hassuffered in the Musk era, with scores of my followers no longer active, or whohave already closed their accounts. A tweet of mine which would previously gethundreds of impressions can no longer get more than 50. No one is actuallyreading what I tweet. There are no clicks, visits to my blog, or sales of mybooks.

It’s become a waste ofmy time and a burden to maintain the account. I had reached a peak at 44,000followers; that number is now down to 36,800. Nearly all of those followers have inactive accounts. None of them will missme, just as I won’t miss any of the 24,900 people I currently follow.

I don't plan toreplace Twitter with Bluesky or any social media alternative. No more tweetsfor me. Twitter served its purpose and then lost its luster. It’s been a longroad which has now come to its end.

Goodbye Twitter.

Related articles:

How I Got 10,000 Twitter Followers in Less than 10 Months

Ten Most Important Things You Need to Know About Working With Twitter

Five More Things YouNeed to Know About Twitter

My 100,000th Tweet. What’s It Worth?

But What Are They Eating in 'Rakiya'?

When Bulgarians sit down for a meal, they raise theirglasses to make a traditional toast. “We look each other in the eyes and say ‘Nazdrave’,”explains a Bulgarian author to his Israeli visitor in the story ‘Sozopol’ inthe collection Rakiya – Stories of Bulgaria. ‘To your health!’

The characters in the story are drinking rakiya, aBulgarian alcoholic beverage that's made from fermented fruits, most commonlygrapes, apples, pears, peaches, apricots, and cherries. “It’s best when it’shomemade,” the Bulgarian author continues. The Israeli finds the drink powerful,burning his throat with its strong alcoholic punch.

“It’s an acquired taste," the Bulgarian says, laughingat the Israel’s reddening face.

Read the rest of the article on the 'But What Are They Eating?' website.

Fran Lewis Interviews Me on Blog Talk Radio

"These stories are fantastic. If you've never been to Bulgaria, you'll want to get on a plane right now."
Listen to the full interview here.

"I appreciate that many of the stories are interlinked"

Excellent. Some stories are funny, but even those aretouched with poignancy. Some are heartbreaking. All are enlightening,fascinating, well worth reading. I do highly recommend this book and just wishI'd been able to do so when it was first released.

Of course it's not too late. Go get it now!

I appreciate that many of the stories are interlinked, referencing towns,events, and even characters from others. But even with those additional cluesI'm not sure I understood the author's intent in all the stories.

For example, I wonder about the Roma mother, and whether she'll actually everget around to helping her daughter to find a way to a better life. The endingseems intentionally ambiguous....

The story about brothers definitely made an impact on me. The ending, gosh. Butbefore that, I loved this bit: "I lived in his shadow for years, nevermeeting his expectations. Anton always looked down at me, I thought. Thisbothered me greatly, more now than before." What an intelligent, andvaluable, insight, that children can overlook slights & other hardships,but adults can remember them with pain. Think about that.

A character says: "Today, antisemitism is virtually absent in the country,and most Bulgarians have a very favorable opinion of Israel." I wonder ifthat's still true, as the far-right takes over many European offices, and asthe war expands past Gaza on its first anniversary.

I hope to share this marvelous book with some of the members of my bookclub.

Review posted on Goodreads