The Woodcarver's Daughter
By Yona Zeldis McDonough and Kaja Kajfež
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About this ebook
After a pogrom forces Batya's Russian Jewish family to leave their home and make the journey to America, Batya hopes her new life will offer her a chance to become a woodcarver like her beloved father. But while many things in America are different from the world of her shtetl, one thing seems to be the same: only boys can be woodcarvers. Still, Batya is determined to learn. With the same perseverance that helped her family survive and start over in an unfamiliar land, Batya sets out to carve a place for herself.
Yona Zeldis McDonough
Yona Zeldis McDonough is the author of eight books for children and young readers, including Sisters in Strength: American Women Who Made a Difference, Anne Frank, and Eve and Her Sisters: Women of the Old Testament-all three of which were illustrated by her mother, Malcah Zeldis. Yona lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and their two children.
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The Woodcarver's Daughter - Yona Zeldis McDonough
Text copyright © 2021 by Yona Zeldis McDonough
Illustrations copyright © 2021 Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.
KAR-BEN PUBLISHING®
An imprint of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.
241 First Avenue North
Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA
Website address: www.karben.com
Cover and interior illustrations by Kaja Kajfez.
Background: Tamara Kulikova/Shutterstock.com.
Main body text set in Bembo Std.
Typeface provided by Monotype Typography.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: McDonough, Yona Zeldis, author. | Kajfez, Kaja, illustrator.
Title: The woodcarver’s daughter / Yona Zeldis McDonough ; [illustrated by Kaja Kajfez].
Description: Minneapolis : Kar-Ben Publishing, [2021] | Audience: Ages 8–11. | Audience: Grades 4–6. | Summary: When a pogrom forces Batya’s Russian Jewish family to leave their home for America, Batya hopes her new life will give her a chance to become a woodcarver like her father
—Provided by publisher
Identifiers: LCCN 2019056349 | ISBN 9781541586673
Subjects: CYAC: Immigrants—Fiction. | Wood carvers—Fiction. | Sex role—Fiction. | Jews—United States—Fiction. | Russian Americans—Fiction. | New York (N.Y.)—History—1898-1951—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.M15655 Wo 2021 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019056349
Manufactured in the United States of America
1-47380-48001-6/16/2020
For Susanna Einstein, agent extraordinaire
—Y.Z.M.
Chapter 1
Sugar
The sky is still dark when I go to the window. No light can be seen through the slats in the wooden shutters, and I carefully pull one back, hoping the slow c-r-e-a-k won’t wake anyone else in the cottage. I crane my neck to peer up at the sky. It’s dark, but clear. No clouds at all. I keep staring, as if my fierce gaze will keep the clouds—and the rain—away.
I pull my head back inside. My parents are asleep in their bed way over by the far wall. The beds of my sisters, Gittel and Sarah, are closer, so I can make out their forms. Sarah is curled up on her side like a little mouse. Gittel sleeps like a lady, hands placed neatly outside the covers, mouth closed. Avram, my older brother, is restless in sleep. And he snores!
But I’m too excited to sleep. Today is my twelfth birthday. And today is the day Papa has promised to take us to the fair. I’m so happy that I’ll get to go. Last year there was a big storm, and the fair was called off. Two years ago I was sick, and the year before that, Papa didn’t have the money to take us. So I’ve been praying that this year, nothing will go wrong.
I know all about the fair. It has a fortuneteller, a puppet theater, and real live dancing bears. And the things you can buy! A lace-edged handkerchief, a toy drum, a doll with a felt dress. Then there’s the food—blini, pierogi, roasted nuts, and gingerbread.
The sky is brighter now. I get dressed so I can do my chores. Even though it’s a special day, I still have to feed the chickens, gather the eggs, and milk the cow. And I must give oats and fresh water to Mala, the little black horse that I love almost as much as I love my Mama and Papa. Mala is high-strung and spirited. She knocks her bucket of oats all over the stall floor. When Avram tries to ride her, she throws him off. Oh, she’s a naughty one! Papa keeps threatening to sell her, but I don’t think he will. Deep down, he loves her too.
* * *
An hour later, we’re seated in our wooden cart, on our way. Mala’s black coat shines in the morning light, and she holds her head high. On one side of me is Sarah, who is only four. She bounces up and down on the seat while Gittel, who is a year younger than me but who acts two years older, sits primly, hands folded in her lap. Avram is asleep. His mouth is open, and he’s snoring—again!
Sarah, stop,
says Gittel crossly. You’re on my skirt.
She’s excited—can’t you see?
I say.
Well, you may not care if your apron is stained or your hair is snarled. But I do!
I look down to see that, yes, there is a yellow smear on my apron. And in my rush to get ready, I didn’t do a very good job fixing my hair.
Some people have more important things to do than to fuss over their clothes!
No fighting,
says Mama. She turns to Sarah. You’ll wear yourself out before we get there. Settle down.
All right.
Sarah is briefly still, but as soon as Mama turns, she starts bouncing again. Avram stirs, and his butter-blond curls fall across his face. Gittel and I envy those curls. But I envy a lot of things about Avram, not just his hair.
I decide to ignore Gittel and Avram and look at the scenery. We go past the woods and onto the open road. Soon I see the cottages and the wooden shul of the next village, and next, there is a long stretch filled only with fields and sky. Mala keeps up a lively pace—clip CLOP, clip CLOP—and soon we’re on the outskirts of the town. We’re almost there,
I announce. And although I don’t bounce, I’m as excited as Sarah.
Sarah’s jostling wakes Avram, who rubs his eyes and mumbles, Almost where?
The fair, you silly!
cries Sarah.
My skirt!
Gittel says, smoothing the cotton with her hand.
Gittel and her stupid old skirt, I think. I give Sarah’s shoulders a little squeeze.
Girls, what did I say about quarreling?
Mama asks. But she’s smiling. Mama, like the rest of us, is looking forward to the fair. Papa clucks his tongue to tell Mala to stop, and then he gets down to tie her up. We’re