THE LILY POND by Annika Thor

Thor, Annika. The Lily Pond. Trans. Linda Schenck. New York: Delacorte Press, 2011. ISBN: 978-0-385-74039-5. $16.99 US/$18.99 CAN. Ages 10-12

Delacorte Press has earned its reputation as a publisher of high-quality adolescent literature, particularly their translations. While Annika Thor’s The Lily Pond didn’t blow me away with quite the same force as Anne-Laure Bondaux’s A Time of Miracles (2009), it lives up to the high standard set by Delacorte.

Stephie Steiner is a Jewish refugee in Sweden during WWII. While historically Sweden was one of the few safe havens for these refugees, not all Swedes felt pleased about the influx of “visitors” to their cities, schools, and culture. Stephie faces an anti-Semitic teacher, who attempts to frame her for cheating, a chilly host family,who treats her like a servant, and even a prejudiced fellow Jewish friend, a long-time resident of the city who blames new refugees like Stephie for the recent growth of anti-Semitism.

In addition to anti-Semitic/anti-immigrant prejudice, Thor explores class identity. While Stephie’s parents were rich in Vienna, the Anti-Semitic legislation had taken all of their assets. Her meager stipend doesn’t compare to that of her peers. Her “fancy address” hides the fact that she’s simply a lodger. In addition, she befriends another girl, even poorer than she, who lives in a very small apartment with her six siblings and parents. These two factors set her at odds with many of the social butterflies at her school.

Along with these weightier issues, Thor addresses the familiar young adult problems of self-identity, first love, and friendship. Stephie’s unrequited crush (and complete misreading of this fellow’s actions) is innocuous and entirely age-appropriate.

Through these challenges, Stephie grows in self-assurance, finding her own way in a new land, largely on her own, without the help of a parent-figure.

The prose translation reads smoothly, and one scarcely notices that it is a translation at all. Stephie’s character and emotions are well-developed; I identify easily with her indecisive moments and her guilt, and her anger resonate with me as a reader. A lovely exploration of a unique episode in European history, I’d be proud to put this book on the shelves in my classroom.

Marisa Behan

Review: THE WEDDING THAT SAVED A TOWN by Yale Strom

Strom, Yale. The Wedding that Saved a Town. Illus. Jenya Promitsky. MN: Kar-Ben, 2008. ISBN 0-8225-7380-7. $7.99 PB.

Yale Strom is an internationally-acclaimed musician and a professor at San Diego State University; he is also a gifted story-teller. His publisher, Kar-Ben, specializes in Jewish-themed children’s books, and the collaboration here of writer, artist, and publisher is ideal.

Strom’s vibrant, culturally-representative tale takes place in old Pinsk, located now in Belarus, but back in the old days it was in the “Pale of Settlement,” the territory Jews were confined to during the reigns of the Czars. (Pinsk is where my own grand-parents came from). In Strom’s story, the little village’s problem is an epidemic of cholera, not an uncommon phenomenon in the swampy, humid land of the Pale. OY! What to do? Cleaning the streets, boiling water, even prayer have not yet helped.

Time for the rabbi to call in the itinerate wedding musician Yiske and explain to him the need for a “Black wedding”: the marriage in a cemetery of two orphans whose deceased loved ones will bless the wedding and thus the town. The problem? Only the bride has been found. As the town contributes wedding cake, a wedding gown, and a wedding dinner, the story moves to finding a suitable orphaned groom. The criterion? Goodness of heart. Yes, such a person exists, and, moreover, he already loves the bride.

The wedding happily happens, accompanied by klezmer music (the thrilling music traditional in Jewish Eastern Europe) and hopeful villagers. Guess what else—the leader of the klezmer band gets a telegram shortly afterward letting him know the cholera epidemic has ended. The story closes with a smiling Yiske thinking to himself, “… maybe miracles do happen!”

Strom’s prose captures the expressive cadences of the Old World, for example, not just one “Oy!” but three—“Oy! Oy! Oy!” making for a most enjoyable read-aloud experience.

Promitsky’s art is perfect, comical and warmly expressive of life in a shtetl (small Jewish town) from the cobblestone streets to the water buckets carried on people’s shoulders to the horse-drawn wagons. The art fits the story and adds enjoyable little details to the text, like Yiske’s cat scratching itself and, later in the text, the rabbi himself dancing to the klezmer music at the wedding.

A glossary of Yiddish words is appended, e.g. “shtetl” and “klezmer.”

I hope to see more collaborations between Strom and Promitsky published by Kar-Ben.

Alida Allison

Review: MARCEL MARCEAU by Gloria Spielman

Spielman, Gloria. Marcel Marceau: Master of Mime. Illus. Manon Gauthier. MN: Kar-Ben (Lerner), 2011. ISBN 0-7613-3961-8. $7.95 PB.

Spielman’s excellent biography of the Master of Mime engages one from the outset by introducing young Marcel as he is raiding his father’s wardrobe to dress up as Charlie Chaplin and entertain neighbors on the streets of pre-World War II France. We see that Marceau was, from his own outset, a performer and much in demand.

He was also a Jew, and this fact altered his life, which is an understatement. His father died in Auschwitz. At the age of 16, he and his older brother worked for the French Resistance in Limoges. The artistic young Marceau forged documents and dangerously led groups of Jewish children secretly to the Swiss border. At 20, Marceau was in Paris studying mime and later performed for Patton’s troops in Germany. Once the war was over, Marceau concentrated on his art, honing his clown character Bip. His fame spread worldwide, and many of us have been privileged to see him on one medium or another. His legacy, through his school for mime and also through the lives of the children he saved during WWII, is assured. His mime communicated beyond language. (Oh, and BTW, he spoke excellent English.)

Speilman’s language in this book soars, even poetic when describing what Marceau could do through mime. And the art is outstanding, very expressive and using the page space gorgeously through color, placement, and design. Gauthier fits the palette to the prose, making for a very successful collaboration.

Alida Allison

Review: THE SHABBAT PRINCESS by Amy Meltzer

Meltzer, Amy. The Shabbat Princess. Illus. Martha Aviles. Minneapolis: Kar-Ben (Lerner), 2011. ISBN 0-7613-5142-9. $17.95.

This isn’t your typical spoiled princess book; you know the contemporary fairy tale versions in which Cinderella becomes a princess without paying any dues first. Contemporary princess just stamps her little feet and gets what she wants.

Nope, this book shows a family working/playing together to make Shabbat even more special by inviting not only the Queen of Shabbat (Shabbat itself is the Queen) but also the princess, none other than the little girl who loves Shabbat but wonders why there’s no princess. She and her parents all contribute to making their little girl the princess by finding dress-up clothes, taking out their best candlesticks, polishing the silver, and having the first of some very special Friday nights. The little girl might wish for diamond decorations but is very happy with what the family can provide.

This lovely story is enhanced by warm, colorful illustrations, notably depicting not fair-skinned Ashkenazi Jews but brown-tone Mexican Jews, reminding us all of the geographical and cultural reach of Judaism.

Alida Allison