A Russian teenage immigrant tries to find her place in the world and social status in an Israeli school.
The straightforward observations of the narrator (and our distance from her era and age) arouse sympathy into the longing to fit-in and the injury of rejection.
My father refuses to get a cordless phone. He says they’re too expensive and that by the end of the 1990s, everyone who has a cordless phone will have brain tumours or ear cancer. So when Yulia calls after dinner, I have to pull the cord from the kitchen out into the hallway, past the bathroom, around the door frame where my mother marks my height in pencil once a month, and into my room.
Those hoping to find refuge from white, Western males narrating their stories will find it here.