Book News
Chaim Potok’s papers now at Penn.
The University of Pennsylvania is now home to papers documenting the literary career and life of rabbi-turned-author Chaim Potok.
The collection includes correspondence, writings, lectures, sermons, articles, memorabilia and fan mail for the man who wrote “The Chosen.” The 1967 novel follows the friendship between two Jewish boys with different backgrounds.
Subsequent books, including “My Name Is Asher Lev,” also explore the conflicts between religious and secular Jewish life.
Penn has announced that the Potok collection is housed at the university’s rare book and manuscript library. Potok left the papers to Penn in his will.
Potok was a Penn alumnus who also taught at the Ivy League school in Philadelphia. He died of brain cancer in 2002 at age 73.
The Associated Press
First Lines
The Crossing Places, by Elly Griffiths
They wait for the tide and set out at first light.
It has rained all night and in the morning the ground is seething gently, the mist rising up to join the overhanging clouds. Nelson calls for Ruth in an unmarked police car. He sits beside the driver and Ruth is in the back, like a passenger in a minicab. They drive in silence to the car park near where the bones were first found. As they drive along the Saltmarsh road, the only sounds are the sudden, staccato crackle of the police radio and the driver’s heavy, cold-clogged breathing. Nelson says nothing. There is nothing to say.
They get out of the car and walk across the rain-sodden grass towards the marsh. The wind is whispering through the reeds, and here and there they see glimpses of still, sullen water reflecting the grey sky. At the edge of the marshland Ruth stops, looking for the first sunken post, the twisting shingle path that leads through the treacherous water and out to the mudflats. When she finds it, half-submerged by brackish water, she sets out without looking back.
Silently, they cross the marshes. As they get nearer the sea, the mist disperses and the sun starts to filter through the clouds. At the henge circle, the tide is out and the sand glitters in the early morning light. Ruth kneels on the ground as she saw Erik doing all those years ago. Gently, she stirs the quivering mud with her trowel.
Suddenly everything is quiet; even the seabirds stop their mad skirling and calling up above. Or maybe they are still there and she just doesn’t hear them. In the background she can hear Nelson breathing hard but Ruth herself feels strangely calm. Even when she sees it, the tiny arm still wearing the christening bracelet, even then she feels nothing.
She had known what she was going to find.
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Publishers Weekly
