“Away from all the Jews, and a story by you without a Jew in it is unthinkable. The deer, the farmers, the game warden—” “And don’t forget Hope. And my fair-haired children.” “And still all you write about are Jews.” “Proving what?” “That,” I said, cautiously, “is what I’d like to ask you.” He thought about it for a moment. “It proves why the young rabbi in Pittsfield can’t live with the idea that I won’t be ‘active.’
Lonoff escapes Jews in every way But he writes about them
