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Thursday, October 17, 2019
THE THIRD DAUGHTER is making waves!
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Sunday, September 15, 2019
THE THIRD DAUGHTER broke out of the gate!!!
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Saturday, May 18, 2019
Sex and tango in Buenos Aires in the late 1800s
THE THIRD DAUGHTER, a new novel
In my new novel I dared enter an arena never explored
before....
It took enormous courage for me to write THE THIRD DAUGHTER
and to expose a buried, tragic chapter in history in which estimated 200,000 women were deceptively lured from Eastern Europe into prostitution in South
America during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
The whispers of millions of girls and women ensnared into
sexual slavery grew into loud cries in my head until I had to give them a voice.
It took research, but also maturity, compassion and skill to follow the thread
that turned THE THIRD DAUGHTER into a story of courage in the face of danger
and hope in the face of despair.
The novel will be released on September 3rd by
HarperCollins. (It is available for pre-order wherever books are sold.)
Summary of THE THIRD DAUGHTER:
The turn of the 20th century finds fourteen-year-old Batya
in the Russian countryside, fleeing with her family from endless Jewish
massacres. Desperate, her father leaps at the opportunity to marry Batya to a
worldly, wealthy stranger who can guarantee his daughter an easy life and
passage to America. Feeling like a princess in a fairy tale, Batya leaves her
old life behind as she is whisked away to a new world. But soon she discovers
that she’s entered a waking nightmare. Her new “husband” does indeed bring her
to America: Buenos Aires, a vibrant, growing city in which prostitution is not
only legal but deeply embedded in the culture. And now Batya is one of thousands
of women tricked and sold into a brothel.
As the years pass,
Batya forms deep bonds with her “sisters” in the house as well as some men who
are both kind and cruel. Through it all, she holds onto one dream: to bring her
family to America where they will be safe from the anti-Semitism that plagues
Russia. Just as Batya is becoming a known tango dancer, she gets an unexpected
but dangerous opportunity—to help bring down the criminal network that has
enslaved so many young women yet has been instrumental in developing Buenos
Aires into a major metropolis.
This shameful chapter in history is true!
Protected by the Argentine government's laws (as the state
budget relied on taxing the brothels,) Zwi Migdal reported at the turn of the
20th century profits of $50 million a year. In some years they employed up to
30,000 women all across South America, (and reaching New York's Lower East
Side.)
The inspiration....
While there is plenty of English-language material about Zwi Migdal (and a lot more in Spanish,) there is hardly any work of fiction since, in 1909, the Yiddish storyteller
Sholem Aleichem published a short story, THE MAN FROM BUENOS AIRES. (You may
read its translation on my website.)
Interestingly, this story about a shady businessman who
brags about his riches but never reveals the nature of his affairs, appeared in
the same story collection as the stories about Tevye the dairyman and his
daughters, most known in its theatrical adaptation to FIDDLER ON THE ROOF.
My imagination was fired at the question of what would have
happened if, after fleeing a pogrom, Tevye’s unmarried daughter met that shady
man from Buenos Aires?
Activism
In the coming months, before the novel's release, I will
team up with anti-trafficking organizations, local, domestic and international.
As I had done with my previous social-issue-centered novels, I will use THE
THIRD DAUGHTER as a platform for speaking opportunities and calls for action.
In my book tour, I will inform audiences what they can do
about the evil of human slavery in their own backyard. If your organization
sponsors a fund-raiser, a literary event, or any form of public stage from
which to educate and inspire, I would welcome your invitation. Please contact
my event coordinator, Lisa Bernard, at MecoxHudson@gmail.com, or call her
at (203)293-4741 .
I am looking forward to visiting your community.
Read more on my website....
My website has been updated to include material about THE
THIRD DAUGHTER:
* And the above mentioned Sholem Aleichem's story
And finally....
I can't end this blog without mentioning one more
inspiration for THE THIRD DAUGHTER--my late mother's painting. My mother,
Reviva Yoffe, was a renowned Israeli artist, and this painting, which she had
named "The Tango Dancers," revealed to me something profound about
these two characters' relationship. When I struggled with doubts as to whether
even tackle the subject of bondage, I found encouragement from my late
mother....
Thank you for your interest and support. I am looking
forward to reconnecting with you in the coming months. Please email me your
questions and thoughts.
Talia Carner
P.S. Please pre-order THE THIRD DAUGHTER now--in print,
digital or audio--and help get the buzz going.
Monday, September 10, 2018
A Politically Incorrect Feminist
No political/social movement can be launched nor hurled
forward by the faint-of-hearts. The second wave feminism required no less
gumption and fierceness than the first wave. The first-wave feminism—that of
the suffragists who won for women the rights to vote and own property—surged
with the second wave, which started in the 1960’s and gained momentum in the
1970’s. It sought to broaden women’s rights to equality in family, sexuality
and employment and sounded the battle cry for fights in areas unique to women
such as reproductive rights, domestic violence, marital rape, paid maternity
leave, sexual harassment, affordable child care, and changes in divorce and custody
laws.
Paradoxically, civil rights, students’ rights and labor
unions often failed to include women within their leadership ranks, nor did
they give credence to women’s issues in either their ideologies or policies
until feminists fought them internally to be heard and included.
While in this excellent book Phyllis Chesler claims to not
have written the history of second wave feminism, she nevertheless does so
through her own eyes and personal experiences that were deeply intertwined with
the fabric of the movement. She recounts her involvement with almost every
aspect of this gut-wrenching years-long struggle, and most importantly, offers
an intimate introduction of the many players—their strengths and weaknesses,
idiosyncrasies and yes, madness. The battles that raged on the road to women’s
liberation were not only against the male hierarchy and dominance of political
and social views that held women as childish, given to hormonal fluctuations,
and incapable of thinking straight, but also internally. The fire in the belly
that fueled feminists’ fervor and made them effective in ultimately achieving
many of the movement’s goals burned also in the intensity of their diverse
worldviews that often targeted other women. Backstabbing, public shaming, envy
and demands for conformity crippled many talented women leaders. Many fell by
the wayside, slunk away to lick the wounds inflicted not by their powerful male
opponents and their centuries-old beliefs, but rather by their colleagues and
fellow Amazonians—often close friends—right inside the movement and in the many
organizations that sprouted within it.
Luckily, Phyllis Chesler is one who remained standing
through it all, albeit not unscathed. Her personal achievements as a
psychologist who confronted the entire industry and forced it to change its
perceptions and treatment of women patients is documented not only in this
book, but in the astounding success of her ground-breaking book, Women and Madness (a book that was
followed by over a dozen other best-sellers, each stepping into arenas no one
had ever dared enter before.) Time and again, Chesler paid a personal price
when she became the target of envy by those who did not wish to see stars
rising within the feminist movement, by those who held the paradoxical idea
that for true equality women should not publish over their own bylines (an
unimagined demand to be made from male writers,) or by early Lesbians who
discredited heterosexual women who chose to marry and become mothers as Chesler
did. The reasons for rancor could be many—or any—as Chesler analyzed in her
book Women’s Inhumanity to Women, and
as I experienced years later in a mini version when I traveled for three weeks
with a group of fifty women to the 1995 International Women’s Conference in
Beijing: Environmentalists against those who brought plastic forks; blue-collar
working women against executives; Lesbians against heterosexuals; non-Jews
against Jews; women of color against Caucasians; West Coast women against
“Yankees”; health-conscious against coffee-drinkers….
Yes, reading the book reveals that indeed, the movement was
created by “bitches, lunatics, prodigies and warriors,” as the subtitle
describes. Yet, overall, they were Wonder Women, because they lurched our
society forward into the changes of the late 20th century and early
21st century—and to what we are now experiencing as the “third-wave
feminism.”
I was younger, yet growing up across the ocean I was unaware
of any of these developments when I cultivated my own brand of feminist
ideas—and was labeled by some friends “a castrating female.” Later, in New
York, when I was drawn into a vicious custody battle, the judge listened to the
argument that I should not be allowed to raise my two baby daughters because I
had attended a conscious-raising seminar, and as my former marriage counselor—a
renowned psychologist—testified against me because I was “a feminist.” At the
same time, the judge refused to put into evidence my lawyer’s presentation of
the father’s passport proving that he traveled two to three weeks each month.
Reading Phyllis Chesler’s book I recalled how, a new immigrant to the USA, I
had sought out someone who could explain this. I checked with the local
university, where I was studying for my masters’ degree, but in those days of
pre- “Women Studies,” which Professor Chesler helped introduce, I couldn’t even
articulate what kind of an expert I was looking for. Phyllis Chesler, a
psychotherapist and a warrior, and the author of Mothers on Trial: The Battle for Children and Custody, would have
been perfect.
The reluctance of women to acknowledge greatness and give
credit to feminists who have paved the way for us continues. Several years ago
I proposed to the Women National Book Association to honor Phyllis Chesler, a
prolific author of eighteen books that changed the landscape of our society and
helped shape for the better the lives of millions of women, to receive the
Association’s yearly award. Her candidacy was rejected because she was “too
controversial.” Controversial because, as she describes in A Politically Incorrect Feminist she demands that American
feminists take a stand against the subjugation and brutality that is the lot of
hundreds of million women in Muslim countries. Controversial because her unique
research of “honor killing” in Western countries of daughters of Muslim
families that shame their families by assimilating into Western culture or dare
refuse arranged marriages is perceived as politically incorrect against Islam.
Yes, “the personal is political,” and this book that charts
the bravery and valor of so many amazing women has inspired me anew to fight
for women’s rights and dignity both at home and abroad.
Saturday, March 31, 2018
Public Thoughts To Be Read At The Passover Table
By Talia Carner
Author Talia Carner's novels are heart-wrenching suspense dealing with social issues. Please read the first chapter of each on her website at www.TaliaCarner.com .
This Passover, as we celebrate our ancestors’ freedom from
slavery, we reconnect through our most important holiday with our
centuries-long traditions. It is incumbent upon us to contemplate the broader
concept of freedom and what it means to us as individuals, as members of our
immediate communities, and as members of the community of Jews across the
globe.
Throughout history, Passover has also been a time of
increased blood libels and pogroms against Jews. While Jews celebrated freedom
and showed benevolence toward fellow humans, they were reminded how hated they
were—hatred so strong that it “justified” killing them by the dozens,
thousands, and millions. In these days, as a new wave of anti-Semitism is
sweeping over the globe, gathering tsunami-like power, it lands right in
Manhattan's UN building. The global Jew-hate fest from Venezuela to Spain—and
renewed in Poland—has metastasized into
leading universities, mainstream media, civic organizations, and even Western
governments. The tale of the Haggadah we read at the Seder stands to remind us
that hate comes knocking on our door first with words, then with economic and
academic boycotts, then with biased UN resolutions, and, as in the past, it may
end with guns, bombs and incinerators.
Passover also marks spring in our ancient agrarian society,
a beginning of a cycle of life, with the blooming of trees and the planting of
vegetables and flowers. Spring’s fresh start and the tradition of inviting
others to share our bounty at the Passover table reminds us of Israel’s
extraordinary achievements in agriculture and science—efficiencies, discoveries
and inventions she has shared for decades with over 120 countries to help
nourish children, improve global food production, and wipe out starvation.
While these past seventy years Israelis—both civilians and
soldiers—have given each Jew everywhere reasons to walk tall and proud, their
existential threat from Iran is real.
“Every Jew should consider himself as if he was freed from
slavery,” says the Haggadah we read tonight. In today’s climate we should add
that “Every Jew should consider himself as if he’s just escaped a terrorist
bomb.” There but for the grace of God and twist of history, we would not have
been spared the wrath and bombs of Palestinians or extreme Muslim murderers
taking shelter in our sacred freedom. Let’s give our prayers and charity to the
families who have suffered unimaginable, senseless losses. And as we do, let us
search within ourselves whether we have done all we could for them and for the
Israeli soldiers who take the first bullet for us.
And while we’re at it, let’s remember our American soldiers
on the forefront in the desserts of Iraq and Afghanistan—and the thousands of
families who would never get to put their arms around them upon their return.
The tradition of Passover also calls us to invite to the
Seder table any Jew who does not have one. Let’s invite—at least in our
thoughts—all our Jewish brethren in countries that do not offer the freedom and
protection that the USA guarantees us. For them, we can raise our collective
voice with indignation and outrage and use our collective power to fight
tyranny and fanaticism that calls for our—and their—demise.
Israel’s president Shimon Peres once said that even
Ben-Gurion had not dreamed big enough. Let us dream big tonight—stretch our
dream to encompass all the vast possibilities, and let us dream tonight of a
world of peace.
Let us bless all the good things God has given us so far,
and celebrate our resilience and our heritage of strong Jewish values that we
have shared with the world over for centuries. And let's allow that dream bring
joy to our hearts and to our Passover table.
Amen.
# # #
Author Talia Carner's novels are heart-wrenching suspense dealing with social issues. Please read the first chapter of each on her website at www.TaliaCarner.com .
Monday, March 19, 2018
One People--Passover Surprise Guests
It’s breakfast at Club Med in Mexico
I
approach the Chef-de-Village and ask
for a secluded spot where my family and another Jewish couple we’ve met here could
conduct a pre-sunset ceremony. He points to a beautiful thatched-roof area over
a dance floor, facing the sea. “Anything else I can do?” he asks.
“A bottle of sweet red wine, please?” Besides the box of matzos and a silver kiddush cup, I packed a dozen Hagadahs and baby-blue
yarmulkes stamped with the date of our youngest daughter’s bat-mitzvah. I write
down my recipe for charoset, a
chopped mix of peeled apples, walnuts, pecans and dates, all flavored with
cinnamon, honey and red wine.
Moments later, I am surprised to hear him over the PA
announcing that all who wish to participate in a Seder, should meet at five
o’clock at the designated area.
I cringe and glance around at the crowd, busy picking
from mounds of fried bacon and pork sausages. Is someone cracking a comment
about the invasion of the Hebs? No one seems to pay attention, and I decide
that throughout history, Jews in far more dire conditions managed to celebrate
Passover. So will my family, down to the lengthy reading of the Hagadah, the
yearly retelling of the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt
At lunch, a
sous-chef presents me with an industrial-size baking tray filled with charoset. Imagining that most of this
huge quantity will be baked in tomorrow’s pies, I dip a spoon into the mix. The
familiar taste of Passover festivity is already inside me. “May I also have a
plate with a hard-boiled egg, a lamb bone, horseradish, and sprigs of parsley?”
I ask. “And a cup of salt water?”
The sun is still high when I drag my family off the beach
to shower and dress in what passes in Club Med for evening attire—shorts and
Polo shirts for men; white slacks or gauzy dresses for women.
At five o’clock we arrive at the dance platform, carrying
my Passover paraphernalia. To my annoyance someone must have double-booked the
place, as dozens of his guests, dressed for a pre-dinner party are hanging
about. “Now we must go look for another quiet spot,” I mutter, and go search
for the sous-chef to locate my tray
of charoset and Passover plate.
In a cluster of people, I spot the couple we have invited
and wave.
As they wave back, some guests turn toward me, smiling. Only
then it hits me: All these people are here for my little Seder!
As my husband counts them—a hundred and forty—more
bottles of wine and crates of glassware are brought from the kitchen. We place
the Seder plate in the center of a table covered with a white tablecloth and
dedicate my kiddush cup for Elijah. We break my matzos into the smallest
pieces, and ladle charoset onto
serving plates.
Then we distribute the twelve Hagadahs—the story of
Passover told in biblical Hebrew. I watch as Jews from South American countries
speaking Spanish and Portuguese, Jews from
I examine the men’s heads covered with baseball caps,
dinner napkins, and my dozen yarmulkes in baby-blue like the undulating sea beyond.
For one hour, strangers to one another, we are connected by one culture and
unite through the ancient language of our ancestors in a tradition that
transcends all geo-political barriers, that has stood up to centuries of
persecutions, pogroms, and repeated attempts at our annihilation. “Next year in
Jerusalem
#
# #
Author Talia Carner’s most recent novel, HOTEL MOSCOW Russia
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