The Eve of November Seventh
The Eve of November Seventh is the tragic story of a lonely, artistic, sensitive man who lives in a grey and depressing totalitarian society. He is a lone swimmer against the currents that have swept up millions of people. Several critics have compared Ze’ev Fridman’s writings to those of Franz Kafka.
Fridman writes about himself:
“In my youth I was an idealist; I lived in two different worlds: an ideal world that consisted of music, literature, beautiful painting and high ideas of kindness, love and brotherhood; and in the real world that seemed to me for the most part frightening, hostile, gray and overwhelming – a world of red banners, square faces on posters, long lines, imposed unanimity and ingrained despair.
I studied at the conservatory, which for me, in addition to teaching a specialty, was a safe haven
in the gray swamp of Soviet reality. On this island, music played and spirituality prevailed… ”
And then came the eve of November seventh…