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This short story by author Mordecai Richler was included in a demo for an audiobook presentation

Vocal Characteristics


English (North American)

Voice Age

Senior (55+)




Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
the summer. My grandmother was supposed to die by Mordecai Richler read by joe Pavia dr Katzman discovered the gangrene on one of his monthly visits. She won't last a month, he said, he said the same. The second month, the third and the fourth. And now she lay dying in the heat of the back bedroom. God in heaven! My mother said, What's she holding on for the summer? My grandmother was supposed to die. We did not chip in with the green bombs to take a cottage in the Laurentian. My grandmother, already bedridden for seven years, could not be moved again. The doctor came twice a week. The only thing was to stay in the city and wait for her to die or as my mother said, pass away it was a hot summer. Her bedroom was just behind the kitchen and when we sat down to eat we could smell her. The dressings on my grandmother's left leg had to be changed several times a day. And according to dr Katzman, any day might be her last in this world. It's in the hands of the Almighty, he said. It won't be long now, my father said, and she'll be better off if you know what I mean. A nurse came every day from the Royal victorian order. She arrived punctually at noon and at 5 to 12 I joined the rest of the boys under the outside staircase to pick up her dress as she climbed to our second story flat, MS bailey favored absolutely beguiling pink panties edged with lace and that was better than waiting under the stairs for Cousin Bessie, for instance, who wore enormous cotton bloomers, rain or shine. I was sent out to play as often as possible because my mother felt it was not good for me to see somebody dying. Usually I would just roam the scorched streets. There was duddy gas, sometimes Hershey stan, artie and me before your grandma kicks off. Daddy said she's going to roll, arise and gurgle. That's what they call the death rattle. Ah! You know everything. Putts! I read it, you jerk. Daddy said, Whacking Me one and Perry Mason home again. I would usually find my mother sour and spent, sometimes she wept. She's dying by inches, she said to my father one stifling night, and none of them ever come to see her. How such Children, she added, going on to curse them vehemently in Yiddish dR Katzman continued to be astonished. It must be the willpower alone. That keeps her going, he said that. And your excellent care. It's not my mother anymore. In the back room, doctor. It's an animal. I want her to die, hush. You don't mean it, You're tired. Dr Katzman dug into his black bag and produced pills for her to take. Your wife's a remarkable woman, he told my father, You don't say my father replied, embarrassed. A born nurse. My sister and I used to lie away talking about our grandmother after she dies? I said Her hair will go on growing for another 24 hours, says who duddy Kravitz do you think Uncle Lou will come from new york for the funeral? I suppose so, boy, that means another fiber for me even more for you. You shouldn't say things like that or her ghost will come back to haunt you. Well, I'll be able to go to her funeral anyway. I'm not too young anymore.