I picked this up randomly at my college library. I'm so glad I did.

I'm taking a class on the history of Eastern European Jewry right now and it's awesome. So many things I'm studying are in this book—the struggle of this new Hasidim, the tense relationship to the Haskalah, the even more tense relationship to the over-whelming Jewish presence in the radical socialist movement, the place of Zionism, the gender struggles of having a husband incredibly knowledgable in Talmud/Midrash but having no worldly knowledge, the wife who has always been learned in the latter and is dependent on her witless husband—it's just awesome. Deborah is ultimately a victim simply for being a woman in this society, and I respect the way Esther wrote about it. It's sad. Deborah speaks primarily to the pain of classically gendered tradition. She has no autonomy as a women, no ability to study as she wish, no choice in marriage, no chance to leave her husband as she slowly starves to death.

Learning about these movements and religious practices I've come to the (early) conclusion that we must allow women to follow traditional mitzvot if they wish, not necessarily for any overtly feminist measure, but because it is really no wonder women are alienated when denied the spiritual practices that might strengthen a relationship Judaism. These are not unholy women—they are holy people—craving a connection that should not be denied to them. And Deborah should have been able to do that. ( )

When I picked this book up I knew nothing of the title or the author; I took it on trust, to add to my collection, because it was a green Virago Modern Classic.

“All the world has heard of the great Yiddish writer Isaac Bashevis Singer and of his brother Israel Joshua. Few have heard of their sister Hinde Esther who lived in obscurity and also wrote novels.”

This is an autobiographical novel, set in Poland’s Jewish community in the early years of the twentieth century. Deborah was the daughter of a rabbi, raised to dedicate her life to one thing: ‘the bringing of happiness into her home by ministering to her husband and bearing him children.’

Her father was mystical, impractical and almost fatally unworldly; her mother was educated, sceptical, but accepting of the role she had been given. Deborah was less accepting. She was bright and curious; she saw her brother being encouraged to study, being allowed to speak freely, being allowed to come and go as he liked; she wanted the same things, but she could not have any of them.

It was clear that this would be an unhappy story, but it was utterly involving though, because the whole of Deborah’s world – the people, the places, the way of life – were so richly evoked, so utterly real.

Life takes the family from a tiny village, to a Hasidic court in a larger town, and finally to Warsaw. It is there that Deborah comes of age, and when she meets other Jews who are prepared to stretch or break the rules of their society she thinks that she has found her place in the world. But she encounters things that her life has not prepared her for, she is confounded by expectations of what a rabbi’s daughter must be, and things go terribly wrong.

Heartbroken, almost completely broken, Deborah submits to an arranged marriage.

It is a disaster, and story ends as Deborah descends into madness and Europe descends onto war.

Esther Kreitman told her story wonderfully well. She was clear-sighted and intelligent, she understood why the world was what it was, why people were what they were. But that didn’t stop her being angry about her situation, or passionate about the things she believed in.

She pulled me right through the story; I was involved with Deborah, I cared about her, I wanted to know how her story would play out, from the first page to the last.

I wish I could say more but I can’t, because this novel is almost too vivid, too real. It makes me feel horribly inarticulate.

This book is a wonderful profound testament; catching a life and speaking of an aspect of women’s history I have never encountered in fiction before.

I wish I could tell you that the author found the place that she wanted in the world; but sadly I can’t.

I’m so pleased though that she did have a son, and that he translated this book that she wrote in Yiddish, many years after the fact, into English. ( )

Kreitman is Isaac Bashevis Singer's and Israel Joseph Singer's older sister. Deborah is an autobiographical novel and exposes pre-WWI Polish Jewry in all its nakedness. The way Judaism was practiced - by the sincere and spiritual, and by the manipulators and their hypocrisy. Most Jews lived in poverty; a select few were able to live a bit more comfortably. While Deborah mostly describes the day to day lives of regular people, we also read about gangsters, Communism, and the particular hardships and limitations of Jewish women. Like Deborah, they were made to feel superfluous, and were discouraged from seeking education or lives outside of the home, and were pushed into marriage and motherhood regardless of their feelings.

Deborah comes across as confused and depressed. I kept wishing she had more "gumption" like her brother Michael but he was permitted more freedom, and knew how to manipulate his parents. Deborah is both angry and resigned to being used by her mother as the family drudge.

Kreitman excels in describing characters and scenes. Makes one feel as though we are right there meeting and speaking with these folks.

Good read. ( )

Moderately story of Kreitman's life. Writing was too choppy. ( )