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Talia Carner's Writings

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Short Story
A field of tulips--or chicken soup?
Nov.18.2011
          My mother was given eighteen months to prepare, as if one could prepare for the loneliness of widowhood. For the thirty years between the time she had started painting and my father’s death, my mother would sit in her study at night—hours after he had fallen asleep—her tiny brushes making their slow,...
Article
Jerusalem Maiden.JPG
May.30.2011
Red Room Original
Read Part I By Talia Carner Yad Ben-Zvi library held several preserved hand-written, personal journals. I also discovered barely legible fourth or fifth copies Ph.D. dissertations typed on manual typewriters decades ago. I spoke with historians, recorded oral histories of old female relatives, and walked the streets of Jerusalem aided by a 1912 map...
Article
Jerusalem Maiden.JPG
May.30.2011
Red Room Original
By Talia Carner Thomas Carlyle said, "What is knowledge but recorded experiences?" However, I could find no recorded experiences when I set out on the road to writing a novel inspired by my grandmother's untapped artistic genius. I had a sense of the world she grew up in. She regaled me with stories from her childhood in Jerusalem in the early 1900s—her...
Short Story
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Apr.24.2009
Best Jewish Writing 2003, John Wiley & Son, Inc.
© Copyright 2003 Talia Carner           I was ten years old when my mother was the class mother on a one-day trip to Jerusalem and Dora got her first period.         My mom didn’t tell me. Dora did, a couple of days later, assuming that my mom had. In the separate building that housed the school lavatory, Dora also wanted to show me her new special belt that held...
Short Story
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Mar.05.2009
Rosebud, December 2001
 © Copyright Protection 2009 Talia Carner <br> www.TaliaCarner.com  <br>  THE SHIP SAILS AWAY <br>             The fluorescent light shines off the sheets with the whiteness of a kabuki dancer's makeup. My cubicle in Osaka Station is long enough to stretch in and to roll from side to side. It is bigger than a coffin, and just as clean. It is...
Short Story
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Dec.21.2008
CHINA DOLL CHAPTER ONE  The stage lights were dazzling, the drumbeats victorious, the cheering intoxicating. They exploded as though they had lay in wait throughout the years it had taken Nola to get here. She clutched the microphone, and her voice lifted above the ceremonial courtyard of the Supreme Harmony Palace, above the crowd of thousands with rapture in...