A Woman Alone
“Lost Books” is a weekly series highlighting forgotten books through the prism of Tablet Magazine’s and Nextbook.org’s archives. So blow the dust off the cover, and begin!
Dvora Baron, born in 1887 in a town outside Minsk, published her first Hebrew stories in 1902, at the age of 15. Well-known, she moved to Palestine eight years later to become the literary editor of the Labor newspaper HaPoel HaTzair. Yet a series of family tragedies and personal controversies ultimately consumed Baron, and she retreated to her room.
In 2008, while translating some of Baron’s essays, Haim Watzman reflected on the female writer whose work has not maintained its once-widespread popularity. “The only woman to be accepted into the canon of early-twentieth-century Hebrew literature and a central figure in the modern Hebrew literary renaissance and the literary life of Tel Aviv, Baron spent her last thirty-three years as a recluse,” Watzman wrote. “Until her death in 1956, she observed life from the window of her tiny apartment on Oliphant Street, around the corner from then-fading (now café-lined) Shenkin Street.”
In Baron’s most famous story, “The Thorny Path,” a woman named Mousha is confined by paralysis to her bed. Surrounded by photographs, Mousha is doomed to view from afar a world which continues around her.
Read The Hermit of Oliphant, by Haim Watzman
Plus the Brotherhood on the treaty, Obama on Iran, and more in the news
Daily rate: $2
Monthly rate: $18
Yearly rate: $180
WAIT, WHY DO I HAVE TO PAY TO COMMENT?
Tablet is committed to bringing you the best, smartest, most enlightening and entertaining reporting and writing on Jewish life, all free of charge. We take pride in our community of readers, and are thrilled that you choose to engage with us in a way that is both thoughtful and thought-provoking. But the Internet, for all of its wonders, poses challenges to civilized and constructive discussion, allowing vocal—and, often, anonymous—minorities to drag it down with invective (and worse). Starting today, then, we are asking people who'd like to post comments on the site to pay a nominal fee—less a paywall than a gesture of your own commitment to the cause of great conversation. All proceeds go to helping us bring you the ambitious journalism that brought you here in the first place.
I NEED TO BE HEARD! BUT I DONT WANT TO PAY.
Readers can still interact with us free of charge via Facebook, Twitter, and our other social media channels, or write to us at email@example.com. Each week, we’ll select the best letters and publish them in a new letters to the editor feature on the Scroll.
We hope this new largely symbolic measure will help us create a more pleasant and cultivated environment for all of our readers, and, as always, we thank you deeply for your support.