Best of 2021
Best of 2021
Best of 2021
Best of 2021
Editor’s Note: Fifty years ago, on Nov. 3, 1971, the movie adaptation of ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ premiered. In honor of that anniversary, this week we are publishing a series of article about the impact of ‘Fiddler’ and its legacy. You can read more of the stories here That I ended up cast in the…
Facebook is dead, long live Meta. But, actually, Meta is dead, too. Let me explain. On Thursday, Mark Zuckerberg unveiled the new name for Facebook to mark its transition to what he calls “the metaverse.” The name, which is, perhaps unsurprisingly, Meta, doesn’t translate well. Unless that’s the point. While the word, now applied to…
Making this movie changed my life. Published in 1967, Chaim Potok’s book, “The Chosen,” is regarded as one of the great Jewish American novels. Set in Brooklyn at the end of WWII, it explores the complex relationship between two Jewish boys, one modern orthodox and the other the genius son of a Hasidic rebbe (the…
Dear Ms. Rooney, No contemporary writer has gotten under my skin as you have. I have devoured your three novels and several of your stories, moved and astonished by the desires, anxieties and ambivalences of your characters and by the interplay among them; and not only moved and astonished but delighted by the quicksilver movements…
This is an adaptation of Looking Forward, a weekly email from our editor-in-chief sent on Friday afternoons. Sign up here to get the Forward’s free newsletters delivered to your inbox. I’ve been pregnant twice. I’ve had two abortions. And I have two healthy, wondrous children who recently turned 14. I used to frame my…
Three dozen replicas of the building are located around the world
When Donald Trump was inaugurated, Gillian Laub was with her parents in Washington D.C. “Well, not with them,” Laub says. Her parents were Trump fans there to make America great again. Laub was there to photograph the Women’s March that took place the day after inauguration. But while she was in D.C., Laub also took…
If you arrived at Linke Fligl around 3 p.m. last Sunday and ambled into the tall grassy meadow at the heart of the farm, you would have seen something curious: A bunch of Jews squatting in patches of goldenrod, counting their blessings. They — or rather we, since I was among them — were saying…
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