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For the first time since Hitler, a Hebrew publisher sets up shop in Germany
In his job as a publisher, Moshe Sakal often needs to communicate with Israel about his books’ bar codes. Sometimes these phone calls sound like an Abbott and Costello routine.
Encountering an error, Sakal will tell the agent for the International Standard Book Number — used to identify a title in global book sales — the system won’t let him enter his address, as he’s based in Berlin. The guy on the other line will tell Sakal to enter his business’s Israeli address (it doesn’t have one, he’ll respond). The agent will then ask him what language his book is in. When Sakal answers “Hebrew,” the man responds, “So put your address in Israel,” not understanding how a press outside Israel could publish a Hebrew book.
The back and forth needs some explanation: Since the founding of Israel in 1948 — and until 2024 — there hadn’t been a major Hebrew publishing house outside of the country.
This wasn’t always the case.
Modern Hebrew has roots in 19th-century Europe, where Russian-born lexicographer Eliezer Ben-Yehuda lived and worked before joining the First Aliyah in 1881.
There were flourishing presses in the language, including the original Schocken Books, founded in Berlin in 1931 and boasting authors like future Nobel Laureate S. Y. Agnon. Hitler’s rise and the Holocaust, underscored by book burnings on the streets, put an end to the industry on the continent. Israel became the national home for Hebrew, and for Hebrew books on its founding in 1948, with many of the early, European-born luminaries of the revived language based there. By 2021, when author Sally Rooney cut ties with her Hebrew publisher but left open an opportunity for translation by a non Israel-based Hebrew press, none existed.
Sakal, a novelist, and Dory Manor, a poet and editor of the literary journal Oh!, are partners in life and business. They were born in Israel but have lived abroad for much of their adult lives, settling in Berlin in 2019. The couple are part of a vibrant Israeli expat community in the city. (When they arrived in 2019, NPR published an article estimating 10,000 Israelis had moved to Berlin in the last decade — the trend shows no sign of slowing.)
Over the years, as they mixed with journalists, writers and artists, they would occasionally mention how the Sapir Prize, the Hebrew language’s answer to the Booker, has since 2014, when New York-based novelist Reuven Namdar won, been closed to authors living outside of Israel.
“Everybody who heard that said, ‘So you should start an ecosystem of global diasporic Hebrew and have your own prize,’” Sakal recalled.
Sakal and Manor at first demurred, but the idea wouldn’t die. In 2023, they started developing Altneuland Press, based in Berlin and printing work in Hebrew, German and English. They established the company early in October 2023 — right before Oct. 7 — and began operations in June of 2024.
To date, Altneuland has published six books in Hebrew and two in German with two more titles on the way. Their authors include Hillel Cohen, author or Between the River and the Sea: My Travels in Israel and Palestine, which they published in Hebrew and German; Maya Arad, with the German translation of her novel Lady of Kazan; and journalist Ruth Margalit, whose forthcoming book will be their first in English.
The company prints books in Tel Aviv and their home base in Berlin for the Israeli and European markets.
“Berlin represents the possibility of Hebrew literature,” Manor said. “Hebrew culture that’s open to the world, rather than closed off or isolated or nationalistic, as is the case more and more in the current political climate in Israel, where democratic spaces are shrinking. We have here the possibility and the freedom to publish voices that might be silenced or marginalized back in Israel.”
The name “Altneuland,” taken from Zionist leader Theodor Herzl’s 1902 speculative novel about a future Jewish state in what is now Israel, is ironic, given the press’ desire to serve as a hub for the Israeli diaspora. But Manor says it speaks to an ideal in the spirit of Herzl’s book — really a utopian novel that imagined Jews and Arabs living together peacefully in a kind of Vienna of the Middle East.
“We think of Altneuland, old-new land, not as a territory,” Manor said, but a language and culture. He likened his vision of their work to Heinrich Heine’s description of the Torah as a “portable homeland.”
In a time of cultural boycotts, Sakal and Manor say being based outside of Israel helps to bypass some of the political minefields. Their books, like Gish Amit’s Cedrick, about the author’s investigation into the life of his former student, a Filipino-Israeli who died serving in the IDF in the Gaza War, have been well-received in Europe and Israel, though Sakal and Manor say they’ve had trouble finding a U.S. partner for the title.
Being outside of the Israeli system offers other freedoms.
In Israel, it is customary for authors to pay publishers to take on their first book — Manor and Sakal don’t take money from their writers. Selling their books in Europe, they also aren’t bound by the infrastructure of Israel’s bookstores, which, apart from a handful of independent shops, is a duopoly of Steimatzky and Tzomet Sfarim, who dictate the terms of the market. As for the titles they can take on, they noted some publishers in Israel may choose not to pursue books that are too anti-government for fear of losing help from public institutions.
It also opens the door for new stories to be told — ones that can center experiences had by Hebrew speakers outside of Israel. Sakal mentions the works of early modern Hebrew poet and novelist David Vogel, whose prose he says was different from the Hebrew he grew up with. Sakal, who is Sephardic, is also hoping to promote more writers with his background.
Some in the Israeli press have been skeptical of Altneuland, with publisher and editor Oded Carmeli writing in Haaretz that, “there aren’t enough Hebrew readers outside of Israel to support a publishing house – not even a bookstore, not even a shelf in a bookstore – and even if there were enough readers, no store in Berlin or Madrid would maintain such a shelf, for fear of repercussions.”
Manor responded, in his own Haaretz article, that Carmeli mischaracterized their operations and the vitality of the Israeli diaspora.
Maya Arad, who publishes with the Israeli press Xargol and went to Altneuland for the German translation of Lady of Kazan, wrote in an email that Hebrew literature still depends on Israel as a center.
“I would agree to admit that it is unlikely that a generation born outside Israel will arise in the Diaspora and begin writing in Hebrew, as Hebrew writers did at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth,” Arad, who was born in Israel but who has lived abroad since 1994 and is based in the U.S., wrote in an email.
But, at the same time, she said it’s undeniable more Hebrew literature is coming from beyond the Jewish State and the subject of Israelis abroad has been attracting growing interest in Hebrew letters.
“The fact that about ten years ago it was decided to restrict the Sapir Prize to writers living in Israel paradoxically attests to the Israeli literary establishment’s recognition of a literary community outside Israel,” she said.
Altneuland, navigating the differing tastes of their global, trilingual markets, have a full slate for 2026, and are now exploring translating Yiddish literature into English, German and Hebrew.
For Manor, the thrill of seeing their Hebrew books on German shelves, for perhaps the first time since the 1930s, can’t be overstated. He recalled a story about an IDF delegation that visited Auschwitz in 1995. On that occasion, then-chief of general staff Ehud Barak said “We’ve arrived 50 years too late.”
“I found that remark chilling,” Manor said. “That idea that Jewish victory should be imagined as an Army arriving at Auschwitz. For me, the true victory lies elsewhere: in Hebrew books being printed in Germany again. That is a victory of culture over violence and over destruction. Victory, joined by hope, not by death.”
The post For the first time since Hitler, a Hebrew publisher sets up shop in Germany appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Four seasons in five sonnets
אָסיען
דאָס צאַרטע ביימל צערטלדיק
צעוויגט זיך אויפֿן ווינט
שוין לאַנג אין אירע בלעטעלעך
קיין זומערפֿרייד מער ניט גרינט
די בלעטלעך טאַנצן גאָלדענע
צום טאַקט פֿון לופֿט וואָס רינט
פֿון קאַנטן פֿון פֿאַרוואָלקנטע
מיט קילקייטס שטאַרן דין
די בלעטעלעך, די בלעטעלעך
זיי מאָנען גאָרניט כּלל
בלויז פֿאַרן סוף קאָקעטעלעך
זיי טענצלען מיט אַ שטראַל
אַזוי עס קלאַפּט אַ הערצעלע
וואָס ווערט פֿון אַלטקייט יונג
אַזוי דאָס לידל ס׳לעצטיקע
קלאָר לייגט זיך אויף דער צונג
און מיטן ווינטל פֿרישינקן
צעזינגט זיך פֿראַנק־און־פֿרײַ
בלײַב, וועלטל מײַנס, פאַֿרכּישופֿטע,
געזונט, אַדיאָ, גוד־בײַ
2021
•
ווינטער
ביים גיין פֿאַרביי דעם אַלטן וואַלד
דערשפּירסטו: אים איז ביטער קאַלט:
די צווײַגן ציטערן פֿאַר קעלט,
די שטאַמען בייגן זיך פֿאַרקוועלט.
און אַלע חיות פּלוצים אָפּ,
און פֿייגל אַלע ווי אָן קאָפּ.
מערניט א שפּערל שפּרינגט זיך דרייסט…
ווי קומט ער גאָר פֿון שטאָט? ווער ווייסט…
גיסטו דעם שפּערל גלײַך אַ וווּנק:
„דער וואַלד איז אַלט און דו ביסט יונג!“
נאָר ער גאָר מאַכט זיך קעלאָיאָד,
אויף דרערד אַלץ שפּרינגט ער, נישטערט דאָרט…
דו קלערסט בײַם גיין פֿאַרביי דעם וואַלד:
זאָל עקן זיך דער ווינטער באַלד!
2018
•
צישן סוף און אָנהייב
דו ווייסט, דער ווינטער וועט פֿאַרגיין
באַלד
און אַלץ באַנײַט זיך: פֿעלד. בוים, שטיין,
וואַלד
און ס׳נעמט אַלץ שפּיגלען זיך אין דיר —
בלום
און בין, און פֿייגל אָן אַ שיעור, —
קום,
שטיי אויף פֿון ווינטער דרעמל און
שײַן!
אַוועק עס וועט פֿון אונטער זון
פּײַן,
דײַן שמייכל ווידער — פֿרײַ און יונג
שפּרייט
די פליגל איבער קינד־און־קייט
ברייט,
דײַן גאָב איז גרויס, און מײַן געזאַנג —
קלאַנג
טויכט אויף, אין יעדן אות געפֿאַנגט —
דאַנק
2019
•
פֿרילינג
די צאַרטע גרינקייט
פֿון ערשטע בלעטלעך
קומט שטענדיק
ניט צו פֿרי,
ניט שפּעטלעך.
ס׳קומט תּמיד ממש
צו דער צײַט
און גרינג,
פֿון בייזע פֿרעסט
באַפרײַט
ס׳הייבט אָן
די גרויסע פֿרייד
צו שוועבן
ווײַל ס׳ווערט באַנײַט
דאָס גרינע לעבן
פֿאַרקוואַרטע ביימער
ווערן לײַט
2024
•
דער זומער איז אַן עקשן
דער זומער איז אַן עקשן, ער וויל ניט, וויל ניט קומען
הגם אויף בייטן וואַקסן צעקווייטיקט שוין די בלומען
הגם די ביימער אויכעט זיך שאָקלען שטאַרק צעגרינטע
דער זומער איז זיי חושד, וויל זיך פֿון דאַן אַהין טאָן
וואוהין אַהין? — טוסט פֿרעגן און ס׳ענטפֿערן די ווינטן:
צו סאַמע קוואַל פֿון רעגן, צום וויכערס אורקוואַל בלינדן…
דער זומער זיך פֿאַרטײַעט, ער וויל זיך ניט צעבליִען
פֿאַרציטערט מענטש און חיה באַלד גרייט פֿאַר אים זיך מיִען
נאָר ער טוט אַלץ זיך הײַען, מיט שטראַלן טוט ניט בריִען
דער פֿרילינג שוין פֿאַרבײַ איז און נאַט אײַך — אָסיען פֿריִער!
פֿאַרחושכט גרינע וועלדער מיט פּוסטע שטעט און שטעטלעך —
בײַ גרויע שטיינער עלנטע, נעפּלדיק פּאַנדעמלעך…
נאָר ער, ער מוז דאָך קומען, אָנקומען סוף־כּל־סוף און
צעקושן זיך מיט בלומען, אויסהיילן גרויל מיט האָפֿונג
ווײַל ניט אומזיסט די ביימער צעגרינטע זיך צעוויגן —
אָט־אָט מיט טויזנט חנען צעוויקלט זיך זײַן ניגון!..
דערווײַל זשע בלאָזן ווינטן, צעיושעט זיך דער רעגן
בעת דער פּאַנדעמער ווינטער וויל מערן זײַן פֿאַרמעגן
2020
•
פֿיר צײַטן פֿון אַ גאַנץ יאָר
ס׳טוט דער פֿרילינג אַלץ זיך בעטן
ביז אין ווינטער נעכט אין שפּעטע
„פֿעלט־וועלט־וואַלד, רק ניט פֿאַרגעסט מיך —
ס׳איז ניט סתּם וואָס כ׳הייס אויך — וועסנע!..“
און דער לאַנגער, כמורנער אָסיען —
רײַסט אַראָפּ אַלץ, דרעשעט, קאָסיעט…
מ׳רופֿט אים ניט אומזיסט אויך האַרבסט, —
ר׳סטראַשעט דעם ווינטער: ״אויך דו, שטאַרבסט!״
און דער שטרענגער, שאַרפֿער ווינטער
ווייסט שוין ניט וואו ר׳זאָל אַהינטער
צי פֿון וואַנעט ר׳זאָל אַרויסעט,
ווײַל ער האָט מער ניט קיין עתיד.
שיקט ער ליבע־בריוו דעם זומער,
נאָר פֿון היץ ווערט יענער — שטומער —
ביז די פֿייגל בויען נעסטן
לשם וועסנע, לשם וועסנע…
2017
•
פֿינעף סאָנעטן
1. און אפֿשר האׇט ער רעכט
און אפֿשר איז גערעכט דער מעכטיקער פּאָעט:
דער עכטיקער איז ער, די איבעריקע זאַנען
אַן ערבֿ־רבֿ פֿון שטיקלעך גראַפֿאָמאַנען
בעת ער באַשאַפֿט פֿון טאָיוּ־וואָיוּ אַ סאָנעט?
און אפשר האָט ער רעכט, דער מײַסטער פוֿן קופּלעט,
וואָס דויערט, ברויזט און קלינגט איבער אַ טויזנט ימען,
בלויז ער, רק ער אַליין לסוף געווינען וועט
די קרוין די איינציקע פֿון ליד דעם סאַמע־סאַמע?
נו יאָ, ווער ווייסט, ווער קאָן דאָס משפּטן אַצינד,
צווישן אַפּנים, מעגלעך, אפֿשר און מסתמא,
צי וועט דען איבערבלײַבן מיטן גײַסט פֿון ווינט
דער וועלטבאַשאַף פֿון ניסימדיקע גראַמען?
טאָ וואָס זשע דען? — מערניט, אַ שטילער עפּיטאַף:
אין ליד זײַנס חנדלט זיך אויך פּראָסטער ערבֿ־רבֿ
2017
•
2. „לידער, לידער, לידערליי“
אַ לידער־קלעטער, צי אַ לידער־פֿלי
צו־מאָל אין שפּעטסטער שפּעט
ווען ס׳ווערט שוין גראָד גאַנצפֿרי
צו־מאָל אינמיטן גאַנג פֿון גיכן טאָג
וואָס זשאַלעוועט אַ גלעט
קיין צײַט ער ניט פֿאַרמאָגט
אַ ליד אַ וווּנדער, צי אַ ליד אַ וווּנד
אַ פלֿאַם אַ קוועלכל וועקט
אַ הימל גרייכט צום גרונד
אַ לידער־אָטעם, צי אַ לידער־גרוס
אין יעדן וואָרט עס שטעקט
די מעגלעכקייט פֿון מוז
אַ ליד־געזאַנג, צי גאָר אַ ליד־געשריי
פֿון טיפֿער פֿרייד, פון וויי
2018
•
3. אַ ליבע־גרוס
דער ווינטער ווי קאַלט ר׳זאָל ניט ווערן
די וויוגע די בייזע, דער פֿראָסט —
זיי וועלן ניט קענען צעשטערן
די ליכט וואָס צו מיר דו דערטראָגסט
די שטערן, קאָן דאַכטן, געהערן
ניט מיר און ניט דיר, און פֿאַרדראָס
וויל אונדזער ממשות פֿאַרשטערן
און פֿאָרט ס׳איז פֿאַר דיר — יעדער אות
וואָס כ׳טו פֿון מײַן האַרצן אויסשרײַבן
מיט זוניקן שטראַל אויפּֿן שניי
און כ׳ווייס אַז די אויפֿשריפֿט וועט בלײַבן
וועט אויסשטיין דעם גרעסטן זאַוויי
דער ווינטער אַלץ שאַרפֿער און שאַרפֿער
נאָר אים איבערלעבן באַדאַרף מען.
2019
•
4. ביימער
דערהערן דעם זיכּרון פֿון די ביימער
וואָס שטייען וואַך יאָרהונדערטער, צי מער
און בלײַבן דאָ מיט זיי איינער אַליינער
כּל־זמן עס קומט ניט קיינער ניט אַהער
זיך שאָקלענדיק צום טאַקט פֿון זייער תּפֿילה
דערשפּירן יעדן רינג און רונג אין זיי
מיט יעדן שאָרך און בייג פֿון צווײַגן פֿילע
מיט פֿרייד פֿון פֿרילינג און מיט אָסיען־וויי
מיט אומגעהײַער זאַפֿטיקייט פֿון גרינקייט
אום רײַפֿן זומער ווען אַלץ זשומט און בליט…
אום פֿראָסטיק קאַלטן ווינטער מיט זײַן פֿלינקײַט —
צעכראַסטעטעטע זיי שטייען אויפֿן ווינט
דערהערן דעם זיכּרון פֿון געדויער
פֿון קיוּם און פֿון ווידערקום ביסט לאָער
2022
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5. פּאַנטאַריישיתדיקס
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שוין צײַט דו זאָלסט וויסן דער טאָג איז פֿאַרבײַ
דער אָוונט איז יונג נאָך, די נאַכט איז נאָך פֿרײַ
די שטערן נאָך שלאָפֿן, דער ווינט איז נאָך לינד
די בערן פאַֿרשלאָפֿן דעם ווינטער געשווינד
און אַלץ וואָס קאָן טרעפֿן, וועט טרעפֿן געוויס:
דער בונד ווערן לויז און דער גזר ווערן ברית
דער אומרו פֿון אָנמאַכט וועט דויערן לאַנג
בעת דו טוסט צעוויקלען דײַן ניגון און קלאַנג
געשוועסטער, געברידער — געמיינזאַמע לײַט —
די זון גייט באַלד אונטער פֿון יעטווידער זײַט
זי בעט זיך פּאַטעטיש: פֿאַרגעסט זשע מיך ניט
די האָפֿענונג לעצטע צום אין־סוף דערפליט
נאָר אַלץ וואָס וועט ווערן, וועט גרייכן דעם צוועק
בעת גלגל החוזר זיך דרייט אָן אַן עק
2026
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My university is enabling the Trump administration’s worst fallacies on antisemitism
The Department of Justice has filed its second lawsuit of the year alleging rampant antisemitism at UCLA, where I teach.
The suit is a repetition of the same old string of allegations that President Donald Trump’s administration first made in the summer of 2025, when it froze $584 million in research funds and then tried to extract an additional $1.2 billion from UCLA. Those assertions are based on a mix of self-reporting and hearsay, assembled to make the case that the UCLA campus is awash in antisemitism.
A small number of the allegations I know or believe to be true. But the overarching claim made in the federal complaint is so partisan and partial as to be comical.
The new suit alleges that UCLA tolerated antisemitic expression and acts on campus — especially at a short-lived pro-Palestinian encampment that took place in April 2024.
It accuses UCLA of tolerating an “appalling hostile educational environment against its Jewish and Israeli students.” The fact that UCLA’s chancellor, Julio Frenk, has made the fight against antisemitism one of the pillars of his administration — and makes constant reference to the recent recommendations of a campus Initiative to Combat Antisemitism — seems not to have registered. The feds are clearly suffering from a bit of UCLA Derangement Syndrome.
This latest federal suit against UCLA succumbs to the Trumpian instinct to alter the facts to fit one’s political proclivities. In this worldview, every instance of support for Palestinians or criticism of Israel is cast as antisemitic; there can be no legitimate form of pro-Palestinian expression.
Even more remarkably, there can be no admission that the greatest display of violence that unfolded on our campus amid pro-Palestinian protests was not against pro-Israel students. Instead, it was perpetrated by pro-Israeli hooligans against the pro-Palestinian encampment activists on the evening of April 30, 2024.
Yet true to form, the complaint describes the events of that night as a battle between equals: “the occupiers and counter-protestors attacked each other with pepper spray, blunt objects, and even fireworks.” In fact, what took place was a vicious assault by one group against another — those in the encampment — that went on for more than four hours without police intervention.
This reshaping of truths seen as inconvenient betrays a tendency by Trump and his associates to adopt an exceptionally narrow lens of observation that allows for shameful distortion and denial. That tendency showed up in a farcically named 2025 executive order, “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History,” which sought to erase any trace of racial prejudice from the annals of this country. And it continues to be present in Trump’s astounding revisionist account of January 6, 2021, which casts the violent insurrectionists as American heroes betrayed by their country.
Sadly the Justice Department’s misrepresentations in its latest complaint are founded not only on Trumpian denialism, but also on UCLA’s own antisemitism initiatives.
Both the taskforce and a subsequent action group charged with investigating on-campus antisemitism have advanced a decontextualized and one-sided story of what took place at UCLA. They have failed to acknowledge the relational nature of anti-Israeli and anti-Palestinian expression; blurred the distinction between hate speech and legitimate, albeit harsh, political expression; and left the concerns of the pro-Palestine side almost entirely unrecognized.
Paradoxically, the singular focus on antisemitism dilutes the very effort to combat it by ignoring the wider ecosystem of hate in which antisemitism operates.
I know members of the taskforce and the action group, as well as Chancellor Frenk. They are colleagues and friends of mine. But I disagree with the way they have gone about the work of combatting antisemitism at UCLA.
To begin with, none of the six UCLA scholars who hold chairs in Jewish studies and whose work touches on antisemitism — myself included — were part of the taskforce that issued its report, or the action group that followed in its wake. Some were initially invited to be part of the taskforce but chose to step down because they did not feel in sync with its direction.
Why?
Because that direction was grounded in a flawed equation of antisemitism with anti-Zionist and anti-Israel expression.
The UCLA action group’s most recent recommendations call for the adoption of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism, which largely advances this understanding. The recommendations give lip service to the assertion that not all criticism of Israel is antisemitic, but neither the taskforce nor the action group has ever indicated when, if ever, criticism of Israel is not anti-Israel — a category so capacious as to leave little room for criticism of any sort.
An additional concern: many of the recent action group recommendations focus on “time, place, and manner” restrictions on campus debate. While ostensibly intended to promote a safe campus environment, in practice they seem to be largely aimed at inhibiting pro-Palestinian forms of expression.
What about an alternative strategy that leverages what we do best at universities: education?
Restricting conversation has never led to positive social change. What could is a major new educational effort devoted to a multi-disciplinary analysis of antisemitism, perhaps alongside Islamophobia. The university could investigate more deeply the interconnected nature of hate in our time by supporting research efforts like those of the UCLA Initiative to Study Hate — which, full disclosure, I direct.
A more expansive tack like this stands a better chance of being effective in bringing various campus stakeholders, including students, into the fight against identity-based hate — which includes but is not restricted to antisemitism. That, rather than narrowing space for free speech, should be the goal.
Unfortunately, our own campus’ efforts to combat antisemitism move in another direction, a choice the Trump administration is working hard to reinforce with their ill-intentioned weaponization of antisemitism. I fear that UCLA will suffer for this — and that, at the end of the day, little will be done to reduce hatred and prejudice against Jews.
The post My university is enabling the Trump administration’s worst fallacies on antisemitism appeared first on The Forward.
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How ‘Hacks’ botched its Yiddish line
In the most recent episode of HBO Max’s critically acclaimed comedy-drama Hacks, Robbie Hoffman, who plays Randi, an ex-Hasidic assistant to agents who represent stand-up comedian Deborah Vance (Jean Smart), says a line in Yiddish. Unfortunately, as any fluent Yiddish speaker will confirm, it’s grammatically incorrect.
In the episode, “The Garden” — referring to Madison Square Garden — Vance’s nemesis Bob Lipka (played by Tony Goldwyn) manages to ruin the comedian’s dream performance at the renowned venue. Luckily, her crew succeeds at securing their boss a stage in Central Park (albeit with free tickets) but they have only a couple of days to convince people to fill the seats. They spread out into the streets of New York City handing out fliers, desperate to get people to come to the ad hoc performance.
Randi does her part by returning to her former community — an apparently Hasidic neighborhood in Brooklyn — and hands out fliers to the pious passers-by. Since Haredi Jews eschew secular performances of any kind, Randi’s attempts are sure to be futile but it’s a funny scene, so I get it.
Yet, when Randi tries to convince them in Yiddish to “come see Deborah Vance in Central Park,” the verb she uses is grammatically incorrect. For you grammar nerds out there, here’s what the error was: Instead of using the command form, “kumt zen Deborah Vance,” “come see Deborah Vance,” she uses the infinitive, “kumen tsu zen Deborah Vance.”
It’s as if she were to say, in English: “To come to see Deborah Vance.”
Surprisingly, as was reported in Alma, Hoffman had called her mother Connie, who, she says, actually writes plays in Yiddish, to run the line by her. If her mother is indeed a fluent Yiddish speaker, we can only conclude that she may have mis-heard the sentence.
Unfortunately, badly translated or mispronounced Yiddish lines are all too common in TV series and films, from the 1992 film A Stranger Among Us with Melanie Griffith to the 2019 mini-series Unorthodox. Interestingly, the Israeli show Shtisel, produced in Israel, did a much better job of getting the Yiddish right.
In any case, the correct way for professional studios to get lines translated into a foreign language is not to wing it, but to hire a professional interpreter who can actually come onto the set and rehearse the lines with the actor. It may raise production costs a bit but at least then, the Yiddish dialogue will sound authentic.
The post How ‘Hacks’ botched its Yiddish line appeared first on The Forward.
