By Lev Golinkin
A compelling tale of 2 intertwined trips: a Jewish refugee relations fleeing persecution and a tender guy looking to reclaim a shattered prior. within the twilight of the chilly battle (the past due 1980s), nine-year outdated Lev Golinkin and his kin pass the Soviet border with in basic terms ten suitcases, $600, and the obscure promise of aid watching for in Vienna. Years later, Lev, now an American grownup, units out to retrace his family's lengthy trek, find the strangers who fought for his freedom, and within the procedure, achieve a destiny through knowing his past.
Lev Golinkin's memoir is the bright, darkly comedian, and poignant tale of a tender boy within the complicated and sometimes chilling ultimate decade of the Soviet Union. It's additionally the tale of Lev Golinkin, the yank guy who ultimately confronts his buried earlier via returning to Austria and japanese Europe to trace down the strangers who made his break out attainable . . . and say thanks. Written with biting, acerbic wit and emotional honesty within the vein of Gary Shteyngart, Jonathan Safran Foer, and David Bezmozgis, Golinkin's look for own id set opposed to the relentless currents of heritage is greater than a memoir—it's a portrait of a misplaced period. it is a exciting story of get away and survival, a deeply own examine the lifetime of a Jewish baby stuck within the final gasp of the Soviet Union, and a provocative research into the facility of hatred and the hunt for belonging. Lev Golinkin achieves an grand feat—and it marks the debut of a fiercely clever, defiant, and unforgettable new voice.
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Additional info for A Backpack, a Bear, and Eight Crates of Vodka: A Memoir
Women scrubbed, and the members of the church Altar Society repainted. When they were done they did what all good Catholics do. They held an ice cream social. Mary Lyons moved in with a daughter, and finally, in 1954, just short of her eightieth birthday, when I was but a year old, she died of heart failure. Then what was left of the Lyons clan trooped back to the cemetery, and there they buried the matriarch alongside the rest of her loved ones. In death, at last, they were all together—all but one, her second son.
28 Richard A. Serrano Tom Pendergast was dead, but the power he forged in lifeâ•¯lived on. He hired theâ•¯jail guards, and he hired theâ•¯homicide detectives, and they continued to operate well after his funeral. Truman returned to Washingtonâ•¯and soon became president of the United States, and back in Kansas Cityâ•¯the boss’s influence continued undiminishedâ•¯in the middle of the country—even asâ•¯my grandfather was taken to that jail. In this twin border-state community, the two Kansas Cities where fortunes were won and lost and won again—sometimes—Joseph P.
Tribune, sued his wife for divorce. He alleged 26 Richard A. Serrano abandonment. But Mrs. Lobdell hit him back, announcing that she would not be so summarily discarded. She said she would fight him for alimony. Labor in the railroads, the stockyards, and the meatpacking houses, where Joseph Lyons supported his family and where my grandfather briefly followed, could be backbreaking, dangerous places to toil. The river bottoms were filled with cattle, hog, and sheep pens, and this week one of the sheep pen buildings burned to the ground, further fouling the air.