Features
Two former Winnipeggers see short stories published
By BERNIE BELLAN It’s not easy for a writer to obtain recognition. How’s that for a cliché?
As someone who’s on the receiving end of numerous requests from publishers’ agents or often writers themselves, asking whether I’d be interested in reviewing a particular book or story, or perhaps interviewing the author, I know how difficult it is to get noticed in a world where tens of thousands of new titles appear every year.
But, as I’ve noted many times in this paper, I often try to go out of my way to help publicize new works by local Jewish writers or writers who may have come from Winnipeg but now live elsewhere – which seems to be a common pattern for writers in this city i.e., leave Winnipeg and hope to carve out a writing career somewhere else.
I’ve decided to profile the works of two young writers, both former Winnipeggers, and both of whom, interestingly enough, have chosen the short story genre as the primary form in which they are hoping to establish themselves.
By choosing to focus on two short story writers at the same time, my hope is that it might provide inspiration for other writers who may have thought at one time or another that perhaps they’d like to try their hand at writing a short story – with the hope of having it published. It’s certainly not an easy challenge to undertake, but the gratification that comes with finally seeing a work of yours published might make following up that initial accomplishment worth repeating.
Both writers, about whom I’m writing, as it turns out, are very close in age. Avra Love is 38, while Marcus Spiegel is 37, but when I asked either of them whether they knew one another, the answer was “no.”
The similarities don’t end there. Both studied English and Philosophy at university and both have worked as teachers – which is a natural, I suppose for a writer, and both have chosen to write fiction, although Marcus Spiegel tells me that he has also written some non-fiction.
And, while Avra Love is relatively new to the game, having just published an anthology of her stories, titled “Into the Junk Drawer and Other Stories,” Marcus Spiegel has had a number of his short stories published in American literary journals, one of which has just recently been awarded a very major prize.
Marcus says that he first began writing short stories when he was around 16, but it was only when “he was around 26 or 27” that he was “really inspired to be a writer.” Avra says that her first interest in writing was poetry, but she also tried her hand at writing “skits, young adult fiction, and children’s books.”
As for their Winnipeg backgrounds, it turns out that I’m well acquainted with both Avra’s and Marcus’s parents. Avra, as you might have guessed, is the daughter of Myron and Symma Love, while Marcus is the son of Jeff and Esther Spiegel.
Marcus, by the way, was brought to my attention by his in-laws, Neta and Yair Bourlas (who happen to live across the street from me). It was when I was talking with them one day that they mentioned they have a son-in-law who had recently been awarded a major award for a short story he had written. Marcus was one of 65 writers whose works were published recently in a very prestigious annual anthology of short stories, essays, and poems, known as “The Pushcart Prize” Series. Marcus’s story appears in the XLVI edition for the year 2022.
While Avra’s collection of short stories has only recently been published, she says that she has another collection of short stories which she’s hoping to publish soon, along with “a handful of children’s books awaiting illustrations.” She adds that “I would like to challenge myself to a longer piece, but haven’t hit upon the right idea just yet.”
Both Marcus and Avra like to use their imaginations to create scenarios that might seem somewhat implausible to the reader, but which draw upon experiences that they might have witnessed in some way or either read about or saw somewhere.
Marcus Spiegel’s award-winning short story, titled “A Tale of Two Trolls,” was first published in the Santa Monica Review, which is a national literary journal sponsored by Santa Monica College.
He says though that it took him quite a long time to be comfortable writing in a more contemporary style that would be accessible to readers. Prior to that realization, he notes, he was writing in a more “classical” style.
Just as Avra experimented with different genres before settling into short story writing, Marcus also tried his hand at poetry and writing a novel which, he says, “I guess turned into a novella.”
It’s easy for a writer starting out to be distracted by more mundane concerns, such as making a living – which is hardly something that anyone can expect to do writing short stories until you’ve achieved a certain level of success. As Avra Love notes, the process of writing is rewarding in itself: “Over the last year, I’ve begun trying to pen concepts without worrying so much about a traditional plotline. These stories have been a way to pay tribute to people in my life, to explore abstracts and metaphor, and to have fun with common expressions. Because they are so succinct, it is relatively quick to put them to page, in addition to being cathartic.”
As for the financial rewards associated with writing short stories, let’s be honest: No one starting out is likely to make much money doing that. Avra says she’s “been teaching since 2013, adding she’s “taught and tutored in all ages and subjects, worked in early child care, and done some editing work, as well.”
Both Avra and Marcus are married. (Marcus’s wife, Yarden, by the way, is also a teacher.) Marcus’s career has been somewhat eclectic, however. When they were both in their twenties, he says that he and Yarden spent quite a bit of time traveling. They actually ended up in South Korea for almost five years (from 2011-16), where they both had intended to teach English.
While Yarden did work as a teacher, Marcus says that because of bureaucratic red tape he wasn’t actually able to work as a teacher in Korea. Instead, he began working as an editor for a Korean woman who would give him things that had been translated from Korean to English and, as he says, “I would correct things for her and polish them.”
When Marcus and Yarden returned to Toronto, while Yarden acquired a teaching degree and began teaching full time, Marcus says that he began “picking up assignments” here and there.
In recent years he’s been submitting stories to various literary journals. Marcus says that he would typically send a story simultaneously to a number of different journals, with the hope that one of them would publish it.
Such was the case with “A Tale of Two Trolls,” which is quite an amusing read. It tells the story of two misfits named Yuri and Winch, who are both college dropouts. They have a YouTube show and podcast, and they purport to be “alt-right” activists, but their primary ambition in the story is to exact retribution on a former professor of Yuri’s by the name of Badendorf. It’s all quite deranged – and hilarious, especially when Winch dresses up as a frog wielding a samurai sword as he prepares to attack Professor Badendorf.
The story should appeal to young readers as it’s laced with all sorts of references to contemporary tropes having to do with the internet, but it would also certainly appeal to older readers as well who would get a kick out of how awkward Yuri and Winch are – Yuri especially when he happens to run into a former female friend by the name of Hannah while he’s prowling the halls of his former college. His desperate attempt to make small talk with Hannah while eating vegetables – to impress her (and which is something he hasn’t done in ages prior to that day) is quite hilarious.
It’s easy to see how such a terrific story would garner a major literary prize but, unfortunately, unless you’re able to pick up a copy of the Santa Monica Review from Spring, 2020, or you manage to acquire a copy of the 2022 edition of the Pushcart Prize anthology you won’t find “A Tale of Two Trolls” anywhere on the internet. However, the Pushcart Prize XLVI is available for order at McNally Robinson, Chapter’s, and Amazon.
That story sprang from Marcus’s imagination, but you can see how he fastened on to themes that are pervasive in an internet dominated world, especially the alienation from society and loneliness that so many people feel.
As for Avra’s writing, she too has a satirical bent in many of her stories. She notes that her “inspiration has come from a variety of sources. The more satirical ones are often based on personal experiences and observations; some ideas relate to people that I’ve known; still others occurred to me as I contemplated symbols around me (maps, flowers, the diversity of confections!) or when a certain phrase crossed my mind (heart of diamonds, opportunity knocks…).”
And, while Marcus has enjoyed some success in having a few of his short stories published, he admits that having his name become more familiar to readers is a challenge. “I have a primitive website,” he says (marcusspiegel.com).
As well, his interests are quite eclectic. A recent non-fiction story of his, he says, was titled “Century of the Hoax”, which he describes as a “history of hoaxes, from the 19th century to the present…and how they evolved into ‘misinformation’.”
In the fall, Marcus will have another piece published in Boulevard, which has published some of America’s top writers over the years. “It’s actually about professional wrestling, of all things,” he notes.
Avra Love tells me that “Into the Junk Drawer” is available on Amazon and in the Kindle Store, in paperback, hardcopy, and e-book formats.” She adds that she’s “currently looking into getting the book into the Chapters/Indigo store… but have yet to receive confirmation. Finally, one can order the book directly from Avra herself at avraklove@gmail.com or from her parents at myjolove1@gmail.com.
And, while being profiled in The Jewish Post & News might not be a surefire path to recognition for a writer, the way things work these days is that one thing can lead to another, perhaps in a painstaking manner, but eventually if you’re willing to keep at it, you might begin to attract a following.
But, after having communicated with both Avra Love and Marcus Spiegel, one realizes that writing is its own reward. It can be painfully difficult to sit down day after day – as Stephen King says a dedicated writer must force oneself to do (and as Méira Cook noted in our last issue she demands of herself as well), but once you’ve completed what you’ve set out to do, there’s a pride in having accomplished that task – whether or not what you’ve written is read by a great many others.
Features
Monitored phone calls and fear of arrest: What life looks like for Iran’s Jews now
This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.
Amid the war in Iran, one Iranian Jewish woman who lives in the United States, but whose family remains in Iran, has been wracked with fear. Before the ceasefire, she spoke with her parents once a week for exactly one minute — both because of the exorbitant cost, about $50 per minute, and because of the fear of surveillance.
During one call a few days into the war, she said, something felt off.
“I could see that something is so wrong. It’s as if someone was there,” the woman, who moved to the U.S. in 2008, said in an interview with the Forward. “It seemed like my mom was actually reading from a note.”
She later learned that the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps had come to her parents’ home, questioning why they frequently called an American number. They instructed her parents to download Bale, an Iranian messaging app widely believed to be monitored by authorities, before making any further calls.
“It’s a spy app, and everyone knows that,” the woman said with a wry laugh. Her parents refused. Instead, they were told to call their daughter and read from a script while IRGC members watched.
“Basically, they said to prove that you are with us and not with Israel, read this when you call her,” the woman said. “After that day, they didn’t call for a long time.”
Eventually, she learned that her parents had fled to a safer part of the country to escape bombardment.
Her family are among the estimated 10,000 Jews who still live in Iran, in the largest Jewish community in the Middle East outside of Israel. Once numbering around 120,000, the community has dwindled significantly since the 1979 Islamic Revolution, when life for religious minorities fundamentally changed. Today, Jews who remain in Iran must carefully navigate life under the regime, publicly expressing loyalty to avoid being falsely accused of Zionist espionage.
Amid Iran’s war with the U.S. and Israel, that pressure has intensified.
With an ongoing internet blackout, communication is limited and closely monitored. To understand what life is like for Iranian Jews today, I spoke with several people in the U.S. who remain in sporadic contact with family members inside Iran. Everyone interviewed requested that they not be identified, fearing repercussions for either themselves or their families.
A synagogue vigil for the Supreme Leader
On April 16, Tehran’s Yusef Abad synagogue held a memorial for Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who was killed on the first day of the war. The event was attended and reported on by several state-affiliated media channels, filming as participants from Iran’s Jewish community shared their appreciation for the deceased Supreme Leader.
Inside and around the synagogue, posters featuring photos of Khamenei were displayed alongside Farsi slogans like “Unity of Iran’s faiths against aggression — condemnation of the attack on the Tehran synagogue by the child-killing Zionist regime and criminal America” and “The Jewish faith is separate from Zionism.”
Regime media pointed to the vigil as evidence of Jewish support for Iran’s theocratic government. But experts say that interpretation misses the reality.
Beni Sabti, an Iranian-born analyst at Tel Aviv’s Institute for National Security Studies, said displays like the synagogue vigil are often a matter of survival. Jews who remain in Iran are frequently compelled to demonstrate loyalty to the regime — and opposition to Israel — in order to avoid suspicion of having ties to Israel. Allegations of such ties have often led to imprisonment and executions following the Islamic Revolution in 1979.
To protect the community, Jewish leaders — especially rabbis — often participate in pro-regime events, including memorials for senior regime figures. In some cases, Iranian rabbis have even sat alongside members of Hamas and Hezbollah to pay their respects to senior IRGC commanders responsible for funding and training terror groups across the Middle East.
The regime exerts significant pressure to stage these displays, Sabti said, “because it’s good for them to show the world, ‘You see, we don’t oppress anyone.’”
Beyond public displays, much of Iran’s economy is tied to the state — what officials often describe as a “resistance economy.” In that system, some say, expressions of loyalty can become intertwined with economic survival.
The woman who left Iran in 2008 said one of her relatives was once pressured to confiscate land from dozens of people and transfer it to the government in order to keep his job — a loyalty test she says was especially harsh because of his Jewish identity. “In the job interview, they told him, you have a Jewish background, so you have to first prove how far you will go,” she explained.
Since the 12-Day War between Israel and Iran in June 2025, the situation has grown even more tense. More than 30 Jewish Iranians were reportedly detained during that conflict because of alleged contact with Israel. While some Jewish community members were arrested during the wave of anti-regime protests that occurred at the beginning of the year, Sabti said he has not heard of a similar wave of arrests during the current war.
Still, the fear remains.
Synagogues as shelter
Some Iranian Jews have managed to stay in touch with relatives via landline phones, although calls are expensive and likely monitored. Most avoid discussing politics, using their limited time simply to confirm they are alive.
“After the 12-Day War, people really didn’t talk on the phone,” said the woman who moved to the U.S. in 2008. “We do talk, it’s not like they literally cannot, it’s just like they realized that the scrutiny was so high that no one has meaningful conversations.”
Even so, fragments of sentiment emerge.
One 25-year-old Iranian Jew from Los Angeles said his Jewish cousins in Iran cried tears of joy when they heard of the Ayatollah’s death.
He said his great uncle and cousin told him over the phone, “I don’t care, whatever the cost. If you can eliminate Khamenei, if you can eliminate Mojtaba, his son, if you can eliminate any threat… do it.” He added, “Most Persian Jews in Iran are happy, is what I hear.”
Amid the current ceasefire, a 64-year-old Iranian Jewish woman from LA said her Jewish friends in Iran have expressed relief. “They are happy that the situation is calm, but on the other hand, nobody is happy. They all want it to get finished,” she said, adding that they hope for “regime change.”
For Nora, an Iranian Jew living in New York, the war has come at a time of crisis for her family in Iran. She says her aunt has been focused on caring for her son, who is suffering from bone marrow cancer. Because the family keeps kosher, her aunt has had to leave the house — even during bombardments — to ensure he has food and other necessities.
Around three weeks into the war, her house in Tehran was destroyed after a nearby police station was struck. She briefly moved into a local synagogue; now, she lives with another Jewish family who opened their home to her. Her son remains too sick to leave the hospital.
A synagogue destroyed
Nora’s aunt is not the only Iranian Jew to find shelter in a synagogue. Sabti heard from another Jewish family inside Iran that Jewish communities have been using synagogues as bomb shelters throughout the war. He recalled doing the same during his youth at the time of the Iran-Iraq war that began in 1980.
Beyond using the space for physical safety, synagogues have also become a place for Jews to be together during the difficult time. “They come just to gather there, passing the time, meeting and having a little bit better time together,” he said.
For members of the Rafi’ Nia synagogue, a 150-year-old religious institution in Tehran, this sense of comfort has disappeared. On April 6, the community gathered there for Passover services. The next morning, they learned the building had been destroyed by an Israeli strike.
The Israel Defense Forces said that the target of the strike was not the synagogue, but rather a top commander from Khatam al-Anbiya, Iran’s military emergency command. But Iranian media suggested that the IDF had intentionally targeted the building. The head of the synagogue made a statement condemning the attacks and wishing the Iranian regime success in the war.
The woman who immigrated in 2008 had visited the Rafi’ Nia synagogue during Passover around 10 years ago. She described it as a beautiful old building. Seeing images of its destruction brought back painful memories of her family’s past.
She and her family were forcibly converted to Islam around 70 years ago, she said, with one uncle publicly hanged after he refused to convert. Her family continued practicing Judaism in secret — celebrating Shabbat behind locked doors and in her grandmother’s basement, always afraid.
She believes her family became a target for conversion after the synagogue in their area was destroyed, leaving them without formal affiliation to a recognized religious institution. On two occasions, she said, the IRGC raided their home during Jewish holidays, searching for evidence of religious practice. When they found a menorah, her father was detained. “When my dad came back, he was a ghost.” She fears that members of the destroyed synagogue could now face a similar vulnerability.
In Iran, certain religious minorities, including Jews, are constitutionally recognized. But she says that their protection is closely tied to existing institutions.
“When we talk about the lack of protection, it has a very nuanced meaning. In Iran, this doesn’t mean that the synagogues cannot exist, but it means that the existing synagogues are the only legal protection that Jews do have,” she said. “Good luck with rebuilding that place. Good luck with asking for a new synagogue.”
Sabti said the regime has already used the synagogue’s destruction as propaganda, publicly condemning the attack while reinforcing the state narrative of religious inclusion. “The head of the Islamic clerics condemned Israel and paid condolences to the Jews,” he said. “Everyone pays condolences and says, ‘Oh, sorry, we are in this together’ … but everyone knows that the other one also is lying.”
An American Jewish detainee
For one Iranian American Jew, the war has made a dire situation worse.
Kamran Hekmati, a 70-year-old Iranian American from Great Neck, New York, traveled to Iran in June 2025 and was detained during the 12-Day War. According to advocates, his alleged crime was traveling to Israel 13 years earlier for his grandson’s bar mitzvah.
Kieran Ramsey of the Global Reach advocacy group, who represents Hekmati’s family, said in an interview that Kamran being the Iranian regime’s only Jewish American prisoner puts him in a particularly precarious position. “There can be risk of retribution or reprisals against him at any moment,” Ramsey said, “from prison guards or other prisoners…his identity certainly puts him at higher risk.”
On March 16, almost three weeks into the war, Secretary of State Marco Rubio designated Hekmati as wrongfully detained, a status that allows the federal government to deploy all possible levers — diplomatic, legal, and economic — to secure his release. Ramsey says that change in designation is helpful, but only goes so far.
His organization is now pushing for the release of all American prisoners in Iran to be an integral part of the U.S.-Iran negotiations to end the war.
“Our hope is that Kamran Hekmati and the other Americans that are being held are put to the front of the list in terms of issues to decide, and not as a deal sweetener,” he said adding, “We know the U.S. negotiators have a list of American names. We know Kamran is at the top of that list…. We also know there are some very rational actors inside the regime, and we are trying to convince them that you have a no-cost way to open doors. Use Kamran as that no-cost way.”
The last time the woman who emigrated in 2008 visited Iran was two years ago. Even then, she worried that photos taken of her in the U.S. wearing a Jewish star necklace might draw the regime’s suspicion.
Now, she believes whatever space existed for quiet concessions from the Iranian government to Jews may disappear. The regime’s efforts to retain a firm grip on the Iranian people following January’s massive anti-regime protest wave and the war pose new risks.
“Just because of everything that has happened… I’m sure that any type of like ‘OK, let this go,’ ‘Let this person go,’ will end,” she said.
“Now I know that I could not go back,” she added. “I really feel if the Islamic Republic stays — and they probably have a good chance of staying — I feel like I lost Iran.”
This story was originally published on the Forward.
Features
‘Don’t give up on us now’: Israel peace summit convenes thousands to aim for elusive progress
By Rachel Fink April 30, 2026
This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.
TEL AVIV, ISRAEL — On Thursday’s bright, sun-drenched morning during a rare pause in the multi-front war Israel has been locked into for nearly three years, in between the protests, funerals and steady drumbeat of violence and trauma, something decidedly more hopeful was taking place.
In one of the city’s largest conference centers, thousands gathered for the third annual People’s Peace Summit under the banner “It must be. It can be. It will be.” The event was organized by the It’s Time coalition, a partnership of more than 80 grassroots peacebuilding and shared society organizations.
Young activists in T-shirts representing their various causes stood alongside older attendees, some in kippot, others in hijabs. Diplomats in business attire moved through the crowd, as did the handful of Israeli politicians still publicly associated with the peace camp – familiar faces in a political landscape where their ranks have thinned considerably. Outside the main arena, Hebrew mingled with Arabic and English as participants strolled through art installations and an organizational fair showcasing the work of It’s Time’s partners.
While previous events took place at the height of war — while hostages remained in captivity and Gaza endured devastating destruction — this year’s summit unfolded during a fragile lull in fighting, the tenuous ceasefires with Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps allowing, however briefly, for conversations to move beyond issues of immediate survival. Speakers tackled settler violence in the West Bank, looming elections, the immense challenge of rebuilding Gaza and the broader question of how to move Israel and Palestine beyond its default state of perpetual conflict. Inside the packed sessions, the tone was equal parts practical, sober and hopeful.
After a quick coffee break, the thousands of participants came together for an evening of stirring speeches and raucous musical performances. When Israeli pop icon Dana International took the stage with a familiar anthem of peace, the crowd rose to its feet, wrapping their arms around one another and belting out the words.
Despite the joyous atmosphere, the event — and the coalition behind it — is not immune from criticism. Some critiques appear to have been internalized: this year’s programming leaned more heavily into policy, strategy and the hard realities of war than previous gatherings. Other issues remain unresolved. Palestinian participation, while present, was still markedly limited, which organizers attribute largely to government-imposed restrictions on movement rather than a lack of interest. Still, the question of whether a civil society movement like this can translate hope and optimism into concrete political change remains to be seen.
That tension between aspiration and reality extends well beyond Israel. In the United States, support for Israel, particularly among younger American Jews, is waning. A 2024 Pew survey found that fewer than half of American Jews under 30 say they feel “very attached” to Israel, while a JFNA poll released in February 2026, found that just 37% of all American Jews identify as Zionists. Both numbers represent a sharp decline from older generations.
For Shira Ben Sasson, Israel director of the New Israel Fund, it is precisely the peace camp which could hold the answer to this growing disillusionment. If the state itself no longer reflects the values that once anchored many American Jews’ connection to Israel, she suggests, perhaps their more natural partner is the small but determined coalition of Israelis working to change it.
“I appreciate how difficult it is to be a Jew who cares about Israel right now,” she told the Forward as the conference, which New Israel Fund helped support and coordinate, got underway. “People are struggling with what they are seeing — the way Israel is conducting itself. Its policies. They are watching the value set that once connected them so strongly to the Jewish state disappear.”
Her response is one of both reassurance and redirection.
“Thank you for continuing to care,” she said. “But remember — the Israeli government is not your partner. We are. Pro-democracy civil society is your partner. Those of us who are fighting for equality here, for the rights of non-Israeli Jews and the rights of non-Jewish Israelis are your partners. This is where those shared values still live.”
If that message feels unfamiliar to those in the diaspora, Ben Sasson suggests the reason ultimately comes down to lack of exposure.
“We, the Israeli peace camp, need to be in many more places than we are right now,” she said. “We must get the word out that while we might not be the majority here, we are not only growing in number, we are expanding our diversity as well.”
She pointed to the rising number of Orthodox Jews, like herself, who have joined the movement as one example.
Ben Sasson also emphasized that, as with any strong partnership, the relationship must move in both directions. Israeli peace activists, she said, must make themselves more visible to American Jews. But American Jews also need to be willing to open their eyes.
“The mainstream Jewish community has to challenge itself,” she said. “They have to be able to voice their concern for Israeli democracy, for the violence in the occupied territories. And they have to be willing to engage in an honest discussion about peace.”
She is less worried about reaching individuals whose support for Israel may be wavering — many of whom, she believes, will connect with the movement’s vision — than she is about the institutions that have long shaped American Jewish engagement with Israel. Those institutions, she said, have been slow to open themselves to this kind of messaging.
“I think there’s fear,” Ben Sasson explained. “The word ‘peace’ has come to sound political. And once something is labeled political, these legacy institutions don’t want to touch it.”
But that avoidance, she warned, comes at a cost.
“They cannot afford to just stick with the same old stale perception of Israel,” she argued. “If you aren’t willing to talk about the real-life issues that Israelis are facing, you simply won’t be relevant anymore — particularly for the young people in your community.”
“Do not be afraid of controversy,” she added. “Do not be afraid to invite an Arab and a Jew to your event, where there may be disagreement. That’s okay. Struggling and wrestling is a core part of our identity.”
While Ben Sasson contends there is a critical mass of people who are hungry for an alternative way to relate to Israel, the question of feasibility remains; the same question that follows the peace movement inside Israel: Does its growing visibility reflect real political momentum, or is it simply too late to reverse course?
To those who are ready to walk away altogether, Ben Sasson points out that Israel stands to lose not only their support, but also the values and organizing traditions American Jews have long brought to the relationship.
“You’ve helped us achieve so many things in Israel for decades,” she said. “You helped us get a state. And now we need a different kind of support. The Jewish values that you offer — the concept of tikkun olam, which is not at the heart of Israeli Judaism but is at the heart of American Judaism — this is the support you can offer us right now.”
Her final plea was simple.
“Do not give up on Israel,” Ben Sasson said. “There have been so many times when things felt insurmountable and you did not give up on us. Don’t give up on us now.”
Rachel Fink is a Tel Aviv-based journalist covering Israel and the Jewish world. Her work has appeared in Haaretz, The Times of Israel, The Jerusalem Report, and Kveller.
This story was originally published on the Forward.
Features
The complete story of the delusional Winnipeg con man who duped people all over the world
By BERNIE BELLAN I have been publishing different chapters from a book I have written about a Winnipeg man who has been telling people for years that he is someone of great wealth who wants to invest in various projects in which those people are engaged.
I’ve now compiled those stories into one large pdf file, which you can read here – or download as a pdf. Simply click on the image below to open the pdf:
