Yelena Moskovich’s grueling novel, The Natashas, is, I’m afraid, a story that will only be read by people who already agree with its message. The people who probably need to hear about what this book has to say are unlikely to pick it up. This book tells the story of two people who learn to detach themselves and perform their “roles” according to what others want. Béatrice and César’s stories are attended by a Greek chorus of “Natashas,” women who have lost their original identities as they’ve been trafficked across Europe.
Béatrice is a doomed girl, right from the moment she starts to blossom into a beauty. As soon as she starts to develop breasts, boys and men begin to pay very uncomfortable attention to her. The day she is groped the school hallway by a group of boys singing “La Marseilles” is the day she starts to slide away from herself. Béatrice does not appear to have enough of a sense of self-preservation to stand up for herself. No one around her notices what’s happening; there’s no one to catch her when she slips away.
César, a Mexican actor who relocates to France, has a little more volition when it comes to his detachment. His inner self is a gay man with a talent for imitation. But that self is not accepted by his family or even, it turns out, César himself. He learns to take on personas to help with daily life. His stereotypical Latin hothead character seems to be the most successful. César slips into the role more and more easily, until he lets “Juan Miguel” pilot for him more often than not.
It’s utterly depressing to watch Béatrice and César lose themselves. The Natashas provide some leavening anger to the story. There’s a tiny dose of hope, but this really is a relentlessly depressing book. Because this book is about the submission and erasure of independent women and gay men, as I said before, I doubt this book will be picked up by readers who should see what it’s like for people to struggle with their appearance or sexuality in the face of rampant misogyny, objectification, and homophobia. Readers who do find this message interesting may be battered by its unsparing brutality.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher via Edelweiss, for review consideration.