YEAR ONE

In this fictionalized memoir, Raydun recounts her first year living in America as a post-Soviet tween.

New York, 1994: When 11-year-old Marina arrives in America for the first time, accompanied by her mother, father, and mostly blind grandmother, she’s nearly overwhelmed by the busyness of it all. Earlier emigrants greet them at the airport, a combination of strangers and people she barely remembers, and ferry them to her other grandmother’s Brooklyn apartment. Even the smells in America are unfamiliar, Marina observes as they arrive: “It’s not the odor of the stale urine that was the signature of my Soviet building lobby. No, this is more complex, but none of the ingredients are known to me. Maybe something between wet sneakers, moist cigarette ashes, and unfamiliar cooking.” The family now lives close to many relatives, but Marina’s favorite—her sister Slava—has stayed behind in Belarus. Before long, they have an apartment of their own, a third-floor unit with plenty of street noise, but at least Marina has a new stereo on which to play “concert” with her Michael Jackson tapes. There is also a television, though Marina is initially unsure of what she should watch. (The sitcom Family Matters, with Steve Urkel—Marina notes he has a “high-pitched voice and dresses in bright-colored, quirky clothes”—becomes a go-to due to its afternoon time slot.) At school, Marina discovers the wonders of American seventh grade, where she is excited not to be the only Jewish student. “Since I was the only Jew in my entire elementary school” in Belarus, she explains, “I was commonly accused of being a thief if anything in the classroom ever went missing.” It proves to be a year of misunderstandings, though whether the confusion is due to differences of language, culture, or simply being 11 years old, Marina is never sure. She can only hope that by the end of the year, her new home won’t seem quite so foreign.

Marina’s perspective, rooted in her youth, is used to great effect, as are those of her funny and direct relatives. She notes that, before leaving Belarus, her grandmother in New York had written to tell her to “make sure to get a haircut before coming over because haircuts in America are prohibitively expensive.” When her cousin’s husband tells her that in America there are 12 grades, Marina expresses shock, since there are only 11 in Belarus. “Seriously?” responds the cousin. “There were ten when I left.” At 430 pages, the book is a bit long for the story it has to tell; both the humor and Marina’s emotional arc would pop a bit better at half the length. That said, it is a remarkable document, both for its vivid details and the depth of character Raydun creates. Readers will feel like they are reading a work of coming-of-age fiction from a generation or two ago, one that captures the thrilling fright of discovery—not only of a new country, but also of a new time of life.

A rich and funny immigrant story.