R.I.P., Grace Paley
From today’s NYT obit:
Though Ms. Paley’s work also rings with Irish and Italian and black voices, it was for the language of her childhood, a heady blend of Yiddish, Russian and English, that she was best known. Reviewers sometimes called her prose postmodern, but all of it — even the death-defying, almost surreal turns of logic that were a stylistic hallmark — was already present in Yiddish oral tradition. For instance:
A man meets a friend on the street.
“So, how’s by you?” the friend asks.
“Ach,” the man replies. “My wife left me; the children don’t call; business is bad. With life so terrible, better not to have been born.”
“Yes,” his friend says. “But how many are so lucky? Not one in ten thousand.”
