![]() ![]() And then became thoroughly obsessed by the play and the story of what happened to it.” “Alisa Solomon’s book Re-Dressing the Canon mentioned God of Vengeance and I was floored by it. “I was looking for a play to direct,” says Rebecca Taichman. Some years later, the play ambushed another sparky student, this time at Yale. “‘A young married man wrote this?!’ A young married man had shown me the beauty of my love for other women.” ![]() “I talked out loud in the library stacks,” Vogel remembers. Its audacious young author, Sholem Asch, set his tragedy in a brothel, where the owner’s daughter begins a same-sex relationship with a prostitute – their rain-drenched love scene was compared to Romeo and Juliet’s balcony. God of Vengeance (Got Fun Nekome) was a sensation from its Berlin premiere in 1907, sweeping Europe and crossing the Atlantic. In large part, this was the shock of recognition. I ran to the library, and it stunned me.” “A professor looked at me in the first week at Cornell University – I was dressing a certain way, I think – and said, I think there’s a play with your name on it. For God of Vengeance, a neglected classic of Yiddish theatre, one of those readers was American playwright Paula Vogel. ![]() ![]() B ooks can lurk for decades on a library shelf, hugging their incendiary potential close until the right readers happen along. ![]()
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