Features
New book tells riveting tale of World War II experience for Jewish family living in British Mandate Palestine – but oh my gosh, I’ve never read more mistakes in a book
“The Long Way Home from Crete”
By Isaac Kal
Self-published, 2021
Available on Amazon
Reviewed by BERNIE BELLAN
I don’t think I’ve ever had quite the experience reading a book that I had reading one that was recently sent to me by the author of “The Long Way Home from Crete”.
The story, in itself, is terrific – but the mistakes – oh god, I’ve never read anything that has mistakes in just about every paragraph, from grammatical mistakes, to omitted words, to usage of the wrong word entirely – and, to top it off, an absolutely egregious error when it comes to writing about what was known as British Mandate Palestine, but which the author insists on referring to as “Israel”. It wasn’t Israel yet – not until 1948!
Despite all that, I told the author that I was going to give his book a good review in our paper (also on our website). Why? Because the story he tells is so engrossing that I actually found myself riveted to the book. However, that being said, I’m not so sure that the typical reader would be able to forego wanting to grab the author by the neck and say to him: Why didn’t you have someone edit the book before you published it?
To illustrate, here’s just the third paragraph in the opening chapter: “As the ship pulled up its anchor, the tossing waves beneath me, made me feel though the world I once knew, was losing its stability.”
Okay, how many mistakes can you find in that one sentence? For one, why does he separate the sentence with three commas? For another, that phrase “made me feel though the world I once knew” has a word that is totally misplaced. Take out the “though” Isaac, and lose two of those commas! And – talk about awkward syntax!
Finally, as I’ve already noted, the ship wasn’t headed to Israel, it was headed to Palestine.
Now, if you’ve made it this far in my review, you might be wondering how someone who’s as interested in proper grammar, vocabulary and attention to historical accuracy as I like to think I am, could have persevered in reading a book that was almost comically poorly written.
The reason is that the story of the protagonist, an individual by the name of Abraham, which is told in the first person, along with the parallel story of Abraham’s wife, Genia, which is told in the third person, offers an intriguing glimpse into what life might have been like for Jews who had come to Palestine in the late 1930s, after fleeing Nazi persecution in Germany.
Abraham’s story in itself is especially absorbing. Born into a poor Jewish family in Poland, he makes his way to Konisberg in Germany, where he is taken in by the family of a well-to-do uncle. In time, Abraham discovers that he has a talent for business and, along with a cousin of his, opens up a successful sauerkraut business.
At the same time, Abraham, who is somewhat of a playboy, it seems, ends up meeting the love of his life, a beautiful but very observant young Jewish woman by the name of Genia. After promising her that he will modify his lifestyle to the point where it will be acceptable for her to marry someone who is clearly not the type of person to whom she would have previously been willing to marry, they eventually settle into a very happy life in Konisberg, and have one child, a boy named Aaron.
The story does go back and forth in time at the start, moving from 1938 “Israel” to 1930s Poland and Germany. I suppose the author was attempting to emulate other writers who decided they didn’t want to tell their stories in chronological form, and although it can be a bit confusing, using that particular device can help to hook the reader who might want to find out how a character ended up where they are.
But, given the era in which the book is set, it comes as no surprise that Abraham and Genia decide they must leave Germany. I have my qualms though with how easy it is for them to get into “Israel” in 1938: no British blockade – and no difficulty in entering the country. That simply doesn’t jive with the reality of the time, in which the British had imposed severe quotas on the number of Jews allowed into Palestine. Still, for the sake of the author being allowed some latitude in telling his story, I’ll allow him some discretion in handling the historical accuracy of that particular aspect of his story.
It’s when Abraham and Genia do settle into their new home in Herzlia though that the story really picks up. Abraham cannot find suitable employment and, even though he had been quite wealthy in Germany, when he tries to import funds from that country, they’re frozen, and the couple finds themselves quite desperate just to feed themselves.
One day, however, Abraham happens to chance upon an advertisement in a paper seeking men to enlist as support workers for the British army. It’s at that point that the story starts to move at a much faster pace. The author provides a detailed description of what life was like for Jewish men in Palestine who volunteered, not to serve in the British army itself, but rather as support workers. This was an aspect of history about which I had never read anything, so I contacted Isaac Kal while I was reading the book to ask him whether the story which, to that point, I had thought might have been a work of fiction, was actually true?
Isaac responded that the story was indeed true – it was his grandfather’s story. He also suggested that I take a look at his website for further information. That didn’t prove at all helpful, but what did help was going to the Amazon website and entering the name Isaac Kal. It was then that I discovered a fair bit more information about what led Kal to write this book – along with some further information about the unit in which his grandfather served.
Here’s what the website says: “In the midst of the Covid-19 closure, the author had plenty of time to go through the photos and documents of his family. He found his grandfather’s soldier certificate and the date of his enlistment. While browsing online, he came across a group of relatives of the Israeli POW from WW2. he discovered the name of the unit in which his grandfather served (Port Operation Unit 1039). Interestingly enough, his captain kept a war diary until his capture.
“Through the stories and the dates in the diary, he was able to trace the route that his grandfather took until his capture.”
As Abraham completes his training, which is to enable him to work in ports helping to unload cargo ships – eventually leading to his becoming a skilled crane operator, he is fairly quickly thrust into an ongoing series of dangerous situations, in which he and the other members of his unit are required to work under enemy fire.
The scenes move from battleground to battleground as German forces advance, first in Africa – in Tobruk (Libya), then in Greece, leading to British forces, along with the support units, such as Abraham’s, constantly retreating.
Again, if the author’s descriptions of events are true, then the vivid accounts of all the near misses that Abraham experiences, often when others nearby get killed, provide descriptions of battlegrounds, especially in the eastern Mediterranean, that are perhaps not as well known to many of us as battlegrounds in western Europe.
At the same time though that Abraham is experiencing the arduous life that anyone who is attached to a combat unit during a war would no doubt experience, his loving wife, Genia, it turns out, is not quite as virtuous as one might have thought. Left alone with her young son she turns to a younger man by the name of Jacob who works in a store and who offers to assist Genia, first by attending to some repairs needed at her home, then by offering her a job helping him in the store.
It doesn’t take long though for the reader to realize that Jacob has an ulterior motive, which is to bed Genia. I was somewhat surprised to read that she wasn’t all that reluctant to give into Jacob’s advances. The whole time I was thinking: “Isaac (Kal), is this your grandmother you’re writing about?”
Thus, while the book evolves into quite the exciting war story – as Abraham escapes from one near-death situation to another, eventually finding himself on Crete – surrounded by Germans, until he is finally captured and taken to a prisoner of war camp in Silesia (in Poland), Jacob has moved in with Genia, while Aaron has been sent to an orphanage in Jerusalem.
Abraham does survive – of course, otherwise the title of the book would not have been what it was, and is reunited with Genia.
But, the story suddenly ends with the couple back together and no clue as to whether Genia ever confesses her marital infidelity to Abraham. (To be fair, he was gone five years and had been reported as “Missing in Action”, but even when Genia learns that Abraham is indeed alive, she finds herself still drawn to Jacob and unable to resist his sexual advances.)
I note that, of the reviews on Amazon, a number ask whether there will be a sequel to “The Long Way Home from Crete”? I suppose that if what happens to Abraham and Genia following Abraham’s return to “Israel” was nearly as interesting as what preceded his return, then it might make for a very good sequel. But, for gosh shakes, Isaac Kal, get someone to proofread your writing!
Features
So, what’s the deal with the honey scene in ‘Marty Supreme?’
By Olivia Haynie December 29, 2025 This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.
There are a lot of jarring scenes in Marty Supreme, Josh Safdie’s movie about a young Jew in the 1950s willing to do anything to secure his spot in table tennis history. There’s the one where Marty (Timothée Chalamet) gets spanked with a ping-pong paddle; there’s the one where a gas station explodes. And the one where Marty, naked in a bathtub, falls through the floor of a cheap motel. But the one that everybody online seems to be talking about is a flashback of an Auschwitz story told by Marty’s friend and fellow ping-ponger Béla Kletzki (Géza Röhrig, best known for his role as a Sonderkommando in Son of Saul).
Kletzki tells the unsympathetic ink tycoon Milton Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary) about how the Nazis, impressed by his table tennis skills, spared his life and recruited him to disarm bombs. One day, while grappling with a bomb in the woods, Kletzki stumbled across a honeycomb. He smeared the honey across his body and returned to the camp, where he let his fellow prisoners lick it off his body. The scene is a sensory nightmare, primarily shot in close-ups of wet tongues licking sticky honey off Kletzki’s hairy body. For some, it was also … funny?
Many have reported that the scene has been triggering a lot of laughter in their theaters. My audience in Wilmington, North Carolina, certainly had a good chuckle — with the exception of my mother, who instantly started sobbing. I sat in stunned silence, unsure at first what to make of the sharp turn the film had suddenly taken. One post on X that got nearly 6,000 likes admonished Safdie for his “insane Holocaust joke.” Many users replied that the scene was in no way meant to be funny, with one even calling it “the most sincere scene in the whole movie.”
For me, the scene shows the sheer desperation of those in the concentration camps, as well as the self-sacrifice that was essential to survival. And yet many have interpreted it as merely shock humor.
Laughter could be understood as an inevitable reaction to discomfort and shock at a scene that feels so out of place in what has, up to that point, been a pretty comedic film. The story is sandwiched between Marty’s humorous attempts to embarrass Rockwell and seduce his wife. Viewers may have mistaken the scene as a joke since the film’s opening credits sequence of sperm swimming through fallopian tubes gives the impression you will be watching a comedy interspersed with some tense ping-pong playing.
The reaction could also be part of what some in the movie theater industry are calling the “laugh epidemic.” In The New York Times, Marie Solis explored the inappropriate laughter in movie theaters that seems to be increasingly common. The rise of meme culture and the dissolution of clear genres (Marty Supreme could be categorized as somewhere between drama and comedy), she writes, have primed audiences to laugh at moments that may not have been meant to be funny.
The audience’s inability to process the honey scene as sincere may also be a sign of a society that has become more disconnected from the traumas of the past. It would not be the first time that people, unable to comprehend the horrors of the Holocaust, have instead derided the tales of abuse as pure fiction. But Kletzki’s story is based on the real experiences of Alojzy Ehrlich, a ping-pong player imprisoned at Auschwitz. The scene is not supposed to be humorous trauma porn — Safdie has called it a “beautiful story” about the “camaraderie” found within the camps. It also serves as an important reminder of all that Marty is fighting for.
The events of the film take place only seven years after the Holocaust, and the macabre honey imagery encapsulates the dehumanization the Jews experienced. Marty is motivated not just by a desire to prove himself as an athlete and rise above what his uncle and mother expect of him, but above what the world expects of him as a Jew. His drive to reclaim Jewish pride is further underscored when he brings back a piece of an Egyptian pyramid to his mother, telling her, “We built this.”
Without understanding this background, the honey scene will come off as out of place and ridiculous. And the lengths Marty is willing to go to to make something of himself cannot be fully appreciated. The film’s description on the review-app Letterboxd says Marty Supreme is about one man who “goes to hell and back in pursuit of greatness.” But behind Marty is the story of a whole people who have gone through hell; they too are trying to find their way back.
Olivia Haynie is an editorial fellow at the Forward.
This story was originally published on the Forward.
Features
Paghahambing ng One-on-One Matches at Multiplayer Challenges sa Pusoy in English
Ang Pusoy, na kilala din bilang Chinese Poker, ay patuloy na sumisikat sa buong mundo, kumukuha ng interes ng mga manlalaro mula sa iba’t ibang bansa. Ang mga online platforms ay nagpapadali sa pag-access nito. Ang online version nito ay lubos na nagpasigla ng interes sa mga baguhan at casual players, na nagdulot ng diskusyon kung alin ang mas madali: ang paglalaro ng Pusoy one-on-one o sa multiplayer settings.
Habang nailipat sa digital platforms ang Pusoy, napakahalaga na maunawaan ang mga format nito upang mapahusay ang karanasan sa laro. Malaking epekto ang bilang ng mga kalaban pagdating sa istilo ng laro, antas ng kahirapan, at ang ganap na gameplay dynamics. Ang mga platforms tulad ng GameZone ay nagbibigay ng angkop na espasyo para sa mga manlalaro na masubukan ang parehong one-on-one at multiplayer Pusoy, na akma para sa iba’t ibang klase ng players depende sa kanilang kasanayan at kagustuhan.
Mga Bentahe ng One-on-One Pusoy
Simpleng Gameplay
Sa one-on-one Pusoy in English, dalawa lang ang naglalaban—isang manlalaro at isang kalaban. Dahil dito, mas madali ang bawat laban. Ang pokus ng mga manlalaro ay nakatuon lamang sa kanilang sariling 13 cards at sa mga galaw ng kalaban, kaya’t nababawasan ang pagiging komplikado.
Para sa mga baguhan, ideal ang one-on-one matches upang:
- Sanayin ang tamang pagsasaayos ng cards.
- Matutunan ang tamang ranggo ng bawat kamay.
- Magsanay na maiwasan ang mag-foul sa laro.
Ang simpleng gameplay ay nagbibigay ng matibay na pundasyon para sa mas kumplikadong karanasan sa multiplayer matches.
Mga Estratehiya mula sa Pagmamasid
Sa one-on-one matches, mas madaling maunawaan ang istilo ng kalaban dahil limitado lamang ang galaw na kailangan sundan. Maaari mong obserbahan ang mga sumusunod na patterns:
- Konserbatibong pagkakaayos o agresibong strategy.
- Madalas na pagkakamali o overconfidence.
- Labis na pagtuon sa isang grupo ng cards.
Dahil dito, nagkakaroon ng pagkakataon ang mga manlalaro na isaayos ang kanilang estratehiya upang mas epektibong maka-responde sa galaw ng kalaban, partikular kung maglalaro sa competitive platforms tulad ng GameZone.
Mas Mababang Pressure
Dahil one-on-one lamang ang laban, mababawasan ang mental at emotional stress. Walang ibang kalaban na makaka-distract, na nagbibigay ng pagkakataon para sa mga baguhan na matuto nang walang matinding parusa sa kanilang mga pagkakamali. Nagiging stepping stone ito patungo sa mas dynamic na multiplayer matches.
Ang Hamon ng Multiplayer Pusoy
Mas Komplikado at Mas Malalim na Gameplay
Sa Multiplayer Pusoy, madaragdagan ang bilang ng kalaban, kaya mas nagiging komplikado ang laro. Kailangan kalkulahin ng bawat manlalaro ang galaw ng maraming tao at ang pagkakaayos nila ng cards.
Ang ilang hamon ng multiplayer ay:
- Pagbabalanse ng lakas ng cards sa tatlong grupo.
- Pag-iwas sa labis na peligro habang nagiging kompetitibo.
- Pagtatagumpayan ang lahat ng kalaban nang sabay-sabay.
Ang ganitong klase ng gameplay ay nangangailangan ng maingat na pagpaplano, prediksyon, at strategic na pasensiya.
Mas Malakas na Mental Pressure
Mas mataas ang psychological demand sa multiplayer, dahil mabilis ang galawan at mas mahirap manatiling kalmado sa gitna ng mas maraming kalaban. Kabilang dito ang:
- Bilisan ang pagdedesisyon kahit under pressure.
- Paano mananatiling focused sa gitna ng mga distractions.
- Pagkakaroon ng emosyonal na kontrol matapos ang sunod-sunod na talo.
Mas exciting ito para sa mga manlalarong gusto ng matinding hamon at pagmamalasakit sa estratehiya.
GameZone: Ang Bagong Tahanan ng Modern Pusoy
Ang GameZone online ay isang kahanga-hangang platform para sa mga naglalaro ng Pusoy in English. Nagbibigay ito ng opsyon para sa parehong one-on-one at multiplayer matches, akma para sa kahit anong antas ng kasanayan.
Mga feature ng GameZone:
- Madaling English interface para sa user-friendly na gameplay.
- Real-player matches imbes na kalaban ay bots.
- Mga tool para sa responsible play, tulad ng time reminder at spending limits.
Pagtatagal ng Pamanang Pusoy
Ang Pusoy card game in English ay nagpalawak ng abot nito sa mas maraming players mula sa iba’t ibang bahagi ng mundo habang pinapanatili ang tradisyunal nitong charm. Sa pamamagitan ng mga modernong platform tulad ng GameZone, mananatiling buhay at progresibo ang Pusoy, nakakabighani pa rin sa lahat ng antas ng manlalaro—mula sa casual enjoyment hanggang sa competitive challenges.
Mula sa maingat na pag-aayos ng mga cards hanggang sa pag-master ng estratehiya, ang Pusoy ay isang laro na nananatiling relevant habang ipinapakita ang masalimuot nitong gameplay dynamics na puno ng kultura at inobasyon.
Features
Rob Reiner asked the big questions. His death leaves us searching for answers.
Can men and women just be friends? Can you be in the revenge business too long? Why don’t you just make 10 louder and have that be the top number on your amp?
All are questions Rob Reiner sought to answer. In the wake of his and his wife’s unexpected deaths, which are being investigated as homicides, it’s hard not to reel with questions of our own: How could someone so beloved come to such a senseless end? How can we account for such a staggering loss to the culture when it came so prematurely? How can we juggle that grief and our horror over the violent murder of Jews at an Australian beach, gathered to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah, and still light candles of our own?
The act of asking may be a way forward, just as Rob Reiner first emerged from sitcom stardom by making inquiries.
In This is Spinal Tap, his first feature, he played the role of Marty DiBergi, the in-universe director of the documentary about the misbegotten 1982 U.S. concert tour of the eponymous metal band. He was, in a sense, culminating the work of his father, Carl Reiner, who launched a classic comedy record as the interviewer of Mel Brooks’ 2,000 Year Old Man. DiBergi as played by Reiner was a reverential interlocutor — one might say a fanboy — but he did take time to query Nigel Tufnell as to why his amp went to 11. And, quoting a bad review, he asked “What day did the Lord create Spinal Tap, and couldn’t he have rested on that day too?”
But Reiner had larger questions to mull over. And in this capacity — not just his iconic scene at Katz’s Deli in When Harry Met Sally or the goblin Yiddishkeit of Miracle Max in The Princess Bride — he was a fundamentally Jewish director.
Stand By Me is a poignant meditation on death through the eyes of childhood — it asks what we remember and how those early experiences shape us. The Princess Bride is a storybook consideration of love — it wonders at the price of seeking or avenging it at all costs. A Few Good Men is a trenchant, cynical-for-Aaron Sorkin, inquest of abuse in the military — how can it happen in an atmosphere of discipline.
In his public life, Reiner was an activist. He asked how he could end cigarette smoking. He asked why gay couples couldn’t marry like straight ones. He asked what Russia may have had on President Trump. This fall, with the FCC’s crackdown on Jimmy Kimmel, he asked if he would soon be censored. He led with the Jewish question of how the world might be repaired.
Guttingly, in perhaps his most personal project, 2015’s Being Charlie, co-written by his son Nick he wondered how a parent can help a child struggling with addiction. (Nick was questioned by the LAPD concerning his parents’ deaths and was placed under arrest.)
Related
None of the questions had pat answers. Taken together, there’s scarcely a part of life that Reiner’s filmography overlooked, including the best way to end it, in 2007’s The Bucket List.
Judging by the longevity of his parents, both of whom lived into their 90s, it’s entirely possible Reiner had much more to ask of the world. That we won’t get to see another film by him, or spot him on the news weighing in on the latest democratic aberration, is hard to swallow.
Yet there is some small comfort in the note Reiner went out on. In October, he unveiled Spinal Tap II: The Beginning of the End, a valedictory moment in a long and celebrated career.
Reiner once again returned to the role of DiBergi. I saw a special prescreening with a live Q&A after the film. It was the day Charlie Kirk was assassinated. I half-expected Reiner to break character and address political violence — his previous film, God & Country, was a documentary on Christian Nationalism.
But Reiner never showed up — only Marty DiBergi, sitting with Nigel Tuffnell (Christopher Guest), David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) at Grauman’s Chinese Theater in Los Angeles. The interview was broadcast to theaters across the country, with viewer-submitted questions like “What, in fact, did the glove from Smell the Glove smell like?” (Minty.) And “Who was the inspiration for ‘Big Bottom?’” (Della Reese.)
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- Carl Reiner On Judaism, Atheism And The ‘Monster’ In The White House
- Mandy Patinkin On His Favorite ‘Princess Bride’ Quote
DiBergi had one question for the audience: “How did you feel about the film?”
The applause was rapturous, but DiBergi still couldn’t get over Nigel Tuffnell’s Marshall amp, which now stretched beyond 11 and into infinity.
“How can that be?” he asked. “How can you go to infinity? How loud is that?”
There’s no limit, Tuffnell assured him. “Why should there be a limit?”
Reiner, an artist of boundless curiosity and humanity, was limitless. His remit was to reason why. He’ll be impossible to replace, but in asking difficult questions, we can honor him.
The post Rob Reiner asked the big questions. His death leaves us searching for answers. appeared first on The Forward.