Rembrandt's Hat

Rembrandt's Hat

Bernard Malamud

Language: English

Pages: 116

ISBN: 0374249091

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


This collection of short stories by Bernard Malamud includes:

The Silver Crown

Man in the Drawer

The Letter

In Retirement

Rembrandt's Hat

Notes from a Lady at a Dinner Party

My Son the Murderer

Talking Horse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Have you by chance read Dr. Zhivago?” “I have read,” the writer sighed, and then began to declaim in Russian—I guessed some lines from a poem. “It is to Marina Tsvetayeva, Soviet poetess, good friend of Pasternak.” Levitansky fiddled with the pack of cigarettes on the table. “The end of her life was unfortunate.” “Is there no picture of Osip Mandelstam?” I hesitated as I spoke the name. He reacted as though he had just met me. “You know Mandelstam?” “Just a few poems in an anthology.” “Our

decided to pay him a short visit. Since the son had moved from his flat to a larger one and had not forwarded his address, the father went to call on him at work. The son was an official of some sort with an office in a new State building. The father had never been there although he knew where it was because a neighbor on a walk with him had pointed it out. The pensioner sat in a chair in his son’s large outer office, waiting for him to be free for a few minutes. “Yuri,” he thought he would say,

the lobby because he was really not reading it. He was anticipating Evelyn’s coming. He had on a new green suit, blue striped shirt, and a pink tie. He was wearing a new hat. He waited in anticipation and love. When the elevator door opened Evelyn walked out in an elegant slit black skirt, sandals, her hair tied with a red scarf. A sharp-featured man with puffed sideburns and carefully combed medium-long hair, in a turn-of-the-century haircut, followed her out of the elevator. He was shorter

dirty laundry in.” Q. “Why do elephants have long trunks?” Neither Goldberg nor I think much of the new jokes but they’re the latest style. I reflect that we could do the act without jokes. All you need is a talking horse. One day Abramowitz thought he would make up a question-response of his own—it’s not that hard to do. So that night after they had finished the routine, he slipped in his new riddle. A. “To greet his friend the chicken.” Q. “Why does a yellow duck cross the road?” After a

at God in heaven. “Murderer,” he cried, aghast. Moaning, father and daughter rushed into each other’s arms, as Albert, wearing a massive, spike-laden headache, rushed down the booming stairs. An hour later the elder Gans shut his eyes and expired. Man in the Drawer A SOFT shalom I thought I heard, but considering the Slavic cast of the driver’s face, it seemed unlikely. He had been eyeing me in his rear-view mirror since I had stepped into the taxi and, to tell the truth, I had momentary

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