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1889, anti-Semitism, Argentina, book review, brothels, Buenos Aires, exploitation, historical background, historical fiction, Jews, nineteenth century, rape, Russia, sex slavery, Talia Carner, tradition, underworld
Review: The Third Daughter, by Talia Carner
Morrow, 2019. 390 pp. $17
In 1889, Batya’s family flees a pogrom and the Russian village they’ve known all their lives for an uncertain destination. Taking to the road with as much of their meager belongings as they can manage, they find temporary sanctuary in a nearby town.
But they can’t live on charity forever, and when a wealthy man named Yitzik Moskowitz, a local hero—whom they also met on the road—makes a triumphant entry to the town, he renews his acquaintance with fourteen-year-old Batya right away. Fair-haired and pretty, she’s half his age, but when Moskowitz asks her father for her hand, making several guarantees, both the girl and her father are swept away.
He’s observed the proper formalities, which suggests he respects Jewish tradition, and he speaks to Batya’s parents as if they were his equals. Yes, he promises to wait to marry her until she turns sixteen, and to bring her to “America,” where he lives and has “important business interests.” Batya and her family believe that God has truly rewarded them.
Not quite. No sooner has Batya’s betrothed gotten her away from her family than he rapes her and ships her across the ocean to Buenos Aires. He doesn’t accompany her on the voyage but sends a hireling to keep tabs on her aboard ship. This guy is one mean, vicious bastard, and you get the feeling he enjoys his work.
Readers, this section of the novel is the rawest of raw and very disturbing but also faithfully rendered and undoubtedly true to life. Like her alleged husband-to-be, Batya’s new escort employs violence, sexual and otherwise, to break her spirit while giving her occasional treats, such as chocolate or beautiful clothes, the like of which she’s never seen before.
Throughout, Batya clings to the hope that her betrothed didn’t intend for her to suffer this way and has been misled by the brute who’s torturing her during the ocean crossing. After all, everything that has happened on board ship shows contempt for Jewish law, and wasn’t Moskowitz a man faithful to his roots? Her naïveté is perfectly believable and all the more heartbreaking for it.
But her first views of Buenos Aires tell her that “America’s” streets aren’t paved with gold:
Bedraggled men wearing yarmulkes lugged baskets, carried water pails, fixed broken stairs, or offered meager belongings for sale. A band of filthy children hit empty cans with sticks, then set upon an emaciated dog, laughing as they whacked its bony back and ribs. Through ground-floor windows Batya noticed women in headscarves hunched over sewing machines, while above them women with painted faces leaned out second- and third-floor windows, calling out to passersby. One of them dangled huge breasts, barely covered, over the windowsill.
The reader knows long before Batya does that her betrothed is no husband and his business interests are brothels. And since the population of Buenos Aires — and Argentina at large — is overwhelmingly male, this business is exceptionally profitable, especially the way he operates it. The prostitutes’ food, clothing, ocean passage, and medical care must be reimbursed from the earnings. If a newcomer dies or refuses to work, the experienced prostitute assigned to show her the ropes pays whatever management has spent on the unwilling or deceased recruit.
Meanwhile, Batya’s family (with no last name, oddly) has no idea what her circumstances are, because the house hires a scribe to write fairytales home about the mansion she lives in, the wonderful marriage she’s made, and so forth. Such is slavery of mind as well as body. Yet despite all this, Batya never gives up her dream to rescue her family from Russia.
The ingenuity and determination with which she sets out to achieve this makes up the bulk of The Third Daughter, and a remarkable tale it is. She faces setback after setback to be sure, and over time the opportunities that present themselves offer a stark choice: save her family or herself, but not both.
Along the way, she becomes skillful at giving pleasure, which she sometimes receives — even occasional tenderness — from her favorite clients. But having been duped once, Batya’s unwilling to believe any more lies, and therein hangs her dilemma.
Carner’s grasp of historical detail, vivid throughout, is one pleasure the novel offers. I also appreciate her devotion to creating an authentic Jewish background in every locale. Circumstance modifies religious observance, which saddens the characters, who wish they could follow their traditions to the letter—another layer of authenticity.
During the course of her education in street smarts and plans to escape, Batya takes many risks. The degree to which she gets away with breaking rules seems convenient at times, though in fairness, her life remains difficult enough. The ending is also somewhat predictable, given the moral and cultural values espoused in the book.
Still, The Third Daughter is a powerful, moving story, and I recommend it.
Disclaimer: I obtained my reading copy of this book from the public library.