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The Crime of Writing by Haim Lapid
Paperback: ISBN: 1-902881-62-1 8½"x5½" US$ 12.95
'Dear madam,
A month ago George Brown, who lodged in our house for the past sixteen years, passed away. At first, when my brother in-law was still alive, he resided in a furnished room which
is attached to our house, but in recent years he lived inside our apartment, in a part which was adapted for the purpose. Since Mr. Brown had no relatives, we took care of his burial
and the execution of his estate. (He left his money and record collection to a nearby music school for children, and his books to the small public library which I run, which he liked so
much that he sometimes addressed me as “Librarian”.) Beside his bed we found the enclosed brown envelope, inscribed with your name and the country, Israel. ..ough we have no idea what it contains or how he proposed to send it, we assumed that it was important to him. In his last days he destroyed and discarded many of his belongings and papers, but not this envelope, which he took care to leave in a prominent position on the little chest of drawers beside his bed. Since there was no address, but only the name of the country, we approached your embassy here and asked for their help. Frankly, I didn’t think it was any use. To our surprise — perhaps because of Israel’s smallness — they got in touch with us after a few days and gave us your address. They added that it was unlikely to be a mistake, since in all Israel there is only one person by this name. I sincerely hope that it is indeed you, and that George Brown’s last wish will be fulfilled.
If, after receiving this envelope and its contents, you should have any questions or requests concerning the late Mr. Brown, I shall be glad to help to the best of my ability. Though
he was not formally a member of our family, he did live in our house and ate at our table, and after my husband fell ill and became less mobile, he often helped in with the gardening and
cheered me up when I needed it.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
Martha——’
P.S. My husband Irving, who has been beside me all this time, wants me to add a remark on his own account (and of course I concur with its implied good wishes). He would like to add that if you take good care of your health you will enjoy a long life, because God in his mercy does not let people who bear a singular name to depart from the world too soon, lest their name perish.
That’s as far as I got when my wife got back. I don’t know why, but when I heard her footsteps I quickly tossed the envelope into a drawer and didn’t mention it to her, though she stood for a
moment behind me as if waiting for something. That night, when she fell asleep, it occurred to me to throw away this uninvited letter, or perhaps leave it shut away in the drawer forever. But I didn’t do so. Instead, I carefully opened the brown envelope, took out the bundle of written pages, and read them from end to end through the night. The next day, having put them back and re-sealed the envelope as best I could, I gave it to her as though it had just arrived. In fact, I’ve never told her what I did. I don’t know if it matters all that much, but that’s what happened.
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