Henry Burby
The title of Breadgivers implies many themes in the lives of immigrants, and specifically Jewish immigrants. By separating the compound word, two especially stand out.
The word bread serves as a reminder of a factor that defines the lives of many immigrants: hunger. The book begins with Sara pealing potatoes for dinner, and most of the early part of the book is taken up with food and the work which is needed to acquire it. It is something that everyone has to contend with from time to time, but for many people around the world, including immigrants, it is part of their core identity. Life is not easy without food. There is no time to relax when you face starvation. You need to work to live, a fact that is much easier to see for immigrants without a social or governmental safety net.
The term breadgiver is similar to the term breadwinner. However, their second words show the difference between them. Where a breadwinner brings home the food, a breadgiver gives it without expecting anything in return, even love. Giver points out the one-sidedness of the relationship between Bessie and her father. In Jewish culture, as seen in this book, the father contributes nothing to the family, and is given his bread for free. His service to the family is strictly relegated to their afterlives, and their acceptance of this situation makes sense at first. After all, an eternity in paradise is worth the fat from the soup. The first breadgiver in the family is Bessie. She carries the family almost single-handed. She works constantly, and gives everything she earns back to her family. She does this because, in her culture, she only exists within and for her father, and by extension, her family. She carries them at least until she marries, when she takes on the burden of her new family, and she may well need to support her previous family as well. This relationship contrasts with that of the modern American family, where the family is taken care of for love. In Sara’s family, there is a much stronger element of obligation.
