Some time ago, Rafi Zabor sat down to write a brief account of 1986. That was the year after his parents died, the year he intended to leave Brooklyn, buy a used car, and drive it across Europe to his golden destination, Istanbul. But like Zabor's journey, this 'brief account' took on a direction of its own - through the shtetl of his father's childhood, via the music of John Coltrane, in the company of a raggle-taggle collection of his family of chancers, dreamers, misfits and magicians. Sitting in the passenger seat, the ...
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Some time ago, Rafi Zabor sat down to write a brief account of 1986. That was the year after his parents died, the year he intended to leave Brooklyn, buy a used car, and drive it across Europe to his golden destination, Istanbul. But like Zabor's journey, this 'brief account' took on a direction of its own - through the shtetl of his father's childhood, via the music of John Coltrane, in the company of a raggle-taggle collection of his family of chancers, dreamers, misfits and magicians. Sitting in the passenger seat, the reader is taken on a mad, exhilarating, beautiful ride, encountering life and death, and a little piece of what lies beyond.
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