The Chosen

by Chaim Potok

“You talk about biology in a symbolic logic class?” my father asked. “We were discussing inductive logic.” “Ah. Of course. The point about mathematizing hypotheses was made by Kant. It is one of the programs of the Vienna Circle logical positivists.” “Who?” “Not now, Reuven. It is too late, and I am tired. You should go to sleep soon. Take advantage of the nights when you have no schoolwork.” “You’ll be working late tonight, abba?” “Yes.” “You’re not taking care of yourself, you know. Your voice sounds awful.” He sighed again. “It is a bad cold,” he said. “Does Dr. Grossman know you’re working so hard?” “Dr. Grossman worries a little bit too much about me,” he said, smiling. “Are you going for another checkup soon?” “Soon,” he said. “I am feeling fine, Reuven. You worry like Dr. Grossman. Worry better about your schoolwork. I am fine.” “How many fathers do I have?” I asked. He didn’t say anything, but he blinked his eyes a few times. “I wish you’d take it a little easy,” I said. “This is not a time to take things easy, Reuven. You read what is happening in Palestine.” I nodded slowly. “This is a time to take things easy?” my father asked, his hoarse voice rising. “The Haganah and Irgun boys who die are taking it easy?” He