The Times, June, 2005
Have you ever witnessed a proper blank stare? I hadn’t, until about three years ago when, in answer to a question about the “hieroglyphics” I’d been scribbling in a notebook, I told a friend I was learning Yiddish. I didn’t think it was so strange. I’m half-Jewish. The thousand-year Eastern European culture that left a heritage of literature, poetry, left-leaning political thought and klezmer music is inherently fascinating; and imagine reading Isaac Bashevis Singer in the original. “But,” asked my friend, “why don’t you learn a language that other people can speak too? It might be less... lonely.”
Actually, there are orthodox Jews who speak Yiddish on a daily basis; but he was right. On the eve of the Holocaust there had been 11 million Yiddish speakers; now there are perhaps one million. And its rarity was part of its attraction. I could play a part in the survival of a language all but wiped out. I would be a mixed-race foot soldier, spreading the secular Yiddish word(s). Three years of fragmented and interrupted study on, I realise how late I came to the party. Without any help from me, Yiddish is undergoing a dramatic resurgence of interest.
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