Letters from Rifka

“Courage or not, of all of my family, only I could stand before the Russian soldiers, because of my blond hair and my blue eyes. Papa, Mama, and the boys, they all have the dark coloring and features of the Jews. Only I can pass for a Russian peasant.” 

Describing the tense moments on the train platform as Russian soldiers search the boxcars, Rifka explains the significance of her hair and appearance. Her light hair and features set her apart from her family and enable her to help facilitate their escape without being singled out as Jewish. Rifka attributes her success on the platform to her appearance, but as the novel proceeds and she ultimately loses her hair, she begins to prove that she does possess a sense of courage that comes solely from her personality.

“I know this letter can never reach you, but in writing to you, I feel less frightened.” 

The novel consists of a series of letters to Rifka’s cousin Tovah that Rifka writes down in a book of Pushkin’s poetry given to her by Tovah. Rifka describes her motivations for writing to Tovah even though she cannot actually send the letters to her cousin, because of the risk that their secret escape will be revealed and her relatives in Russia punished as a result. The act of writing, for Rifka, enables her to process all of the difficulties she encounters on the way to a new life in America. The act of writing becomes essential to Rifka’s self-understanding and personal development.

“The doctor made me feel dirty. He looked in my eyes and my mouth and my hair. ‘Are you sick?’ he asked me in Russian.” 

Rifka’s letters describe her family’s mistreatment at the Polish border as they exit Russia, including being required to strip nude for inspection and ultimately fumigation. She describes feeling humiliated, and degraded, through the succinct word “dirty.” These harrowing experiences are an integral part of Rifka’s family’s story, but also provide historical perspectives on the experiences of emigrants.

“When I read your Pushkin, I remember those cows, and the girls’ singing.” 

Letters from Rifka tells the story of the complicated, disaster-ridden but ultimately successful attempt by Rifka and her family to immigrate to the United States. The narrative is thus forward-looking. However, Rifka frequently returns to memories of her past in Russia, often in connection to her cousin Tovah, who gifted the book of Pushkin’s poetry to Rifka. As Rifka writes letters to Tovah in the book, she naturally thinks of her past even as she moves toward her future.

“I will do everything there.”

Rifka looks to the United States as a nearly blank slate, defined only by its seemingly limitless possibilities. She represents the waves of immigrants who came to the US in the early 20th century looking for new beginnings and opportunities. As the novel goes on, Rifka develops a more nuanced perspective, recognizing that the US is not without its faults.

“Tovah, I am like an orphan now.”

Rifka continues to provide a detailed account of the trials that she and her family face as they attempt immigration to the United States. Upon learning that she will not be able to accompany her family but must instead remain in Belgium while her ringworm heals, she describes herself as an orphan. The word carries two meanings in this case: Rifka is separated from the rest of her family for an extended period, but she is also forced into the position of being without a real home. Unable as she is to return to Russia or depart for the US, Rifka is orphaned in a geographic sense as well.

“In America, no one will take my gifts from me.”

Celebrating her 13th birthday alone in Antwerp, Rifka recalls getting a beautiful doll from her cousins Tovah and Hannah on her ninth birthday, which her family later had to trade for potatoes so they would have something to eat. She longingly looks to America as a land of plenty in which she will not have to make such sacrifices. However, her comment comes as she also shows independence by taking matters into her own hands, performing her own mitzvah, and making herself a Star of David. These actions imply that Rifka herself, not America, will ensure her success.

“My hair was the only nice thing about me. Still, I am trying to remember your advice, Tovah, to rely on my wits and not my looks.” 

Rifka experiences mixed feelings as she prepares to leave Antwerp: joy that she was cleared of ringworm and is permitted to rejoin her family in America, and disappointment because her hair has still not grown back. She recalls her hair as a distinctive, beautiful feature, but she also remembers the words of Tovah, which she finds encouraging in that moment. The advice is especially meaningful because Tovah has a back injury that affects her posture. Rifka does not see Tovah’s injury as a setback, and admires her cousin’s intelligence; thus, Tovah provides Rifka with a role model in a time of need.

“‘Sometimes,’ Pieter says ‘there are storms so fierce I think the ship will break apart.’ Pieter is such a joker. I am never certain whether to believe him or not.”

The days that Rifka spends aboard a small ship, en route to America, are pleasant and warm. She befriends the sailor Pieter but laughs at his remark that sailing can actually be quite dangerous. The remark foreshadows Pieter’s death in just such a storm shortly afterward. The contrast between those two moments is a reminder of how Rifka must constantly navigate being pulled between hope and disaster.

“Just for a moment I hoped the ship would never arrive in America and I could go on sailing with Pieter across this wide green ocean forever.” 

Aboard the ship, Rifka relaxes and even has fun with Pieter. Though she longs to make it to America and rejoin her family, the brief period is a welcome change for her after so many struggles. Pieter even kisses Rifka, causing her to seek a poem in her Pushkin book that can express her feelings. When she cannot find such a poem, she arrives at the idea of writing her own. Thus, though Rifka is finally able to rejoin her family after the tragic loss of Pieter, the voyage is also a pivotal moment in her awakening as an individual with her own ideas, capable of self-expression.

“Tovah, suddenly I feel how defenseless we are—not just Jews, all of us.” 

After the small ship is damaged on its transatlantic journey, the passengers are forced to wait for another ship to arrive and slowly tow them to America. Rifka and her family have encountered numerous examples of discrimination, persecution, and challenges. Stranded and helpless along with so many other passengers, Rifka senses that all people, in their own way, are subject to hardship. Her thoughtfulness toward others is connected to her sense of empathy, which grows steadily over the course of the novel.

“Until I cross that line, I am still homeless, still an immigrant. Once I leave Ellis Island, though, I will truly be in America.” 

As Rifka nears the United States, her thoughts about America—both fears and hopes—begin to amplify. Having been held in limbo in Antwerp, separated from her family, and unsure of her future for many months, she is aware of how precarious her situation is. Rifka is also aware that she will face another inspection and line of questioning on Ellis Island before she is permitted to enter the country. Even at the threshold of a new life in America, Rifka feels anxiety and insecurity, implying how much her challenging experiences have influenced her.

“In Russia, all America meant to me was excitement, adventure. Now, coming to America means so much more. It is not simply a place you go when you run away. America is a place to begin anew. In America, I think, life is as good as a clever girl can make it.” 

Rifka and her family flee Berdichev to escape the persecution that they faced as Jews in Russia. America seemed like a far-off, almost mythical place representing the abstract ideal of freedom. As Rifka makes the difficult journey toward the United States, however, her perspectives mature. She comes to see America as a place of openness and opportunity, in which she will have the freedom to be independent and rely on herself, not simply escape from oppression and discrimination.

“The doctors worry about your hair.” 

Rifka’s hair, along with her linguistic abilities and sense of empathy, is one of her most distinctive traits. However, the full impact of her hair loss is not felt until she arrives on Ellis Island and is told she cannot enter until officials verify not only that her ringworm is cured, but that her hair will grow back. Being so close to her family and destination, yet unable to fully enter America, is devastating to Rifka.

“But no one should starve to death.” 

Rifka initially feels bitterness toward Ilya, who, as a Russian peasant, represents the population that persecuted her family and other Jews back in Russia. However, her sense of empathy soon overcomes this bitterness, prompting her to see Ilya simply as a human being in need, rather than a representative of any particular group. She considers his hunger strike a terrible consequence of his emotional turmoil and takes pity on him, ultimately improving her own outlook in the process.

“Crazy Russian peasant! He could stay here. He could stay here in America.” 

Rifka’s acquaintance with Ilya changes her perspectives on multiple levels. Her first reaction to meeting him, however, is one of shock and jealously. She marvels at Ilya’s hunger strike, wondering how someone could not want to stay in the US. She also is painfully aware of the implications of the ethnic differences between herself and Ilya, knowing that as a Jewish evacuee, she does not even have the option to return to Russia without being killed.

“Maybe it is not very clever to feel what I felt about this Russian peasant, this enemy of my people. But Tovah, he was just a little, hungry boy. Taking care of him made me feel better than I had felt in a very long time.”

In Ilya’s time of sorrow and need, on a hunger strike because he wants to return to Russia, Rifka sees only a person who needs help. She sheds her earlier views, and the views of her family, which would classify Ilya as an “enemy”. Caring for Ilya rather than shunning him benefits Rifka as well; instead of looking at her own difficult situation with bitterness, she finds determination.

“Why is such a great country like America afraid of a little Jewish girl just because she doesn’t have any hair on her head?” 

When Rifka’s mother is finally able to visit her daughter in the detention hospital on Ellis Island, she is amazed at how openly Rifka speaks. Rifka boldly questions why the US would not permit her to enter the country simply because she lost her hair. Her boldness shocks her mother but is a sign of how much Rifka’s independence has grown. In the end, Rifka’s independence and boldness are precisely what convince immigration officials to grant her entry.

“You’ve always been good with languages.” 

When visiting Rifka, her mother is just as impressed as Saul was on his visit at how quickly and fluently Rifka has come to speak English. Her mother contextualizes Rifka’s talent, explaining that she has had clear linguistic talents since birth. The compliment is praise for Rifka but also represents her mother’s recognition that Rifka has begun to emerge as an independent person, capable of acting on her talents.

“I am both Jewish and Russian. And I am also more. I am so much more.” 

Thriving in Antwerp, befriending a Russian peasant, caring for a Polish baby, and impressing American hospital staff are among the experiences that have opened Rifka’s eyes to the dignity of all cultures and the common humanity that underlies them all. Rifka comes to see identities as additive, rather than limiting. She can consider herself Jewish as well as Russian and indeed, as a writer, young woman, and many other things. She does not expect her family to share this cultural openness but is determined to act on it herself—yet another sign of how she has become more independent.

“When I read the poetry of Pushkin to Ilya and watch his face, I can see the words rocking him the way they do me. We both ache for something we have lost.” 

Early in the novel, Rifka remarks in a letter to Tovah that Pushkin’s poetry reminds her of home. As she deepens her bond with Ilya, she again finds Pushkin’s words meaningful. Ilya is distraught because he cannot return home, while Rifka knows she cannot return home but is anxious because of the challenges she faces trying to begin a new life in America. Between these two feelings, Rifka suggests, she and Ilya find common ground in having lost something and in living with uncertainty. Her recognition, through reading the poetry, that these feelings are not only hers but also Ilya’s is another sign of her deep sense of empathy.

“My writing maybe is not as beautiful as Pushkin’s but it comforts me.” 

Pushkin’s poetry is a constant presence in Letters from Rifka, with excerpts from his poetry appearing at the start of each letter, written within the pages of a book of Pushkin’s poetry. Rifka refers to her love of Pushkin’s work at several points in the novel, such as when she tells Tovah the poetry reminds her of home, or when she searches in the book for a poem to express her feelings after being kissed by Pieter. Yet when Rifka begins writing her own poetry, it represents a turning point. She comes to accept herself, recognize her own independence, and grasp that she has the freedom to be who she wants to be.

“I told him in America, he could grow up to be anything he wanted.” 

Rifka’s care for Ilya grows to the point that she not only encourages him to end his hunger strike in order to survive, but also urges him to think positively about remaining in America. Her comment that he can become anything he wants to in America echoes what she wrote about herself earlier in the novel, when she looked forward to coming to America. Rifka notes how she and Ilya have common ground in being separated from their families, and so her encouragement to him represents her own desire to be reunited with her family as much as a wish to support Ilya.