My latest Tablet magazine column is about how to choose age-appropriate, non-screw-up-your-children-for-life Holocaust books. And it’s about how our determination to shield our kids and maintain their innocence is sometimes more about our needs than theirs.

In Tablet magazine these week I channel Clement Greenberg and talk about how we talk about art — in this case, our children’s art. I would like to make clear that I think this painting of Maxie’s is TOTALLY FABULOUS. I love the way the puppet-y thing looks like it’s popping up out of the corner of the picture and I would not have used the word “mediocre” that is in the deck but I understand the need for an enticing head and deck and since I called the piece “Homemade Esthetics” which is pretty pretentious and boring I can’t really complain if the editors need to sex up the deck.

Yesterday the web site The Hairpin ran some excerpts from Are Women People?, a 1915 book of poetry by suffragist Alice Duer Miller. Every snippet was delicious and amazing. Here’s my favorite:

Why We Oppose Pockets for Women

1. Because pockets are not a natural right.

2. Because the great majority of women do not want pockets. If they did they would have them.

3. Because whenever women have had pockets they have not used them.

4. Because women are required to carry enough things as it is, without the additional burden of pockets.

5. Because it would make dissension between husband and wife as to whose pockets were to be filled.

6. Because it would destroy man’s chivalry toward woman, if he did not have to carry all her things in his pockets.

7. Because men are men, and women are women. We must not fly in the face of nature.

8. Because pockets have been used by men to carry tobacco, pipes, whiskey flasks, chewing gum and compromising letters. We see no reason to suppose that women would use them more wisely.

That is some genius sarcastic shit right there.

You go, Gutenberg-perusing Lili Loofbourow, who brought this treasure to our attention.

The 2011 Sydney Taylor Award (named after the endlessly amazing author of the All-Of-A-Kind Family books) winners were announced today. As with the National Jewish Book Award winners, there were some I adored and some I didn’t. This is what makes horse races. Congrats to all, and thank you Sydney Taylor peeps for your efforts in encouraging kids to read.

Over at Love That Max, Ellen Seidman blogs about a child who was denied a kidney transplant solely because she is cognitively impaired — or, in the phrase written in the transplant doctor’s folder, “MENTALLY RETARDED.” As the child’s mother, Chrissy Rivera, writes on her blog: 

I can’t stop pointing to the paper. “This phrase. This word. This is why she can’t have the transplant done.”

“Yes.”

I begin to shake. My whole body trembles and he begins to tell me how she will never be able to get on the waiting list because she is mentally retarded.

A bit of hope. I sit up and get excited.

“Oh, that’s ok! We plan on donating. If we aren’t a match, we come from a large family and someone will donate. We don’t want to be on the list. We will find our own donor.”

“Noooo. She—is—not—eligible –because—of—her—quality– of –life—Because—of—her—mental—delays” He says each word very slowly as if I am hard of hearing.

After Rivera told the story on her blog, and it was picked up on disability blogs and began rocketing around Facebook, the hospital in question (Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, for those keeping score) (as I am) issued a statement on its own Facebook page saying it “does not have any criteria which exclude patients from being considered for transplant solely on the basis of their cognitive status.” Which says EXACTLY NOTHING. Uh, one of your doctors excluded a patient for exactly that reason, and was up-front about it. Are you saying it didn’t happen, or are you saying you issued a statement precipitously because it DID happen and therefore your statement is manifestly untrue, and the doctor made a mistake and you intend to correct it?

The name of the little girl whose family was so rudely treated is Amelia. She goes by Mia. Now, if it turns out there are other counterindications against transplant surgery that are related to the rare genetic disorder she has, Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome, well, let’s talk about that. If this child has heart defects or a seizure disorder that make the surgery too risky, that’s worth discussing. But that’s not what the doctor said. And guess what: Mental retardation alone should not be a reason to sentence a child to death. Which is exactly what will happen to Mia if she doesn’t get this surgery.

There’s a petition at change.org urging the hospital to reconsider. And Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia needs to consider its policies, whether they’re actually being followed, and whether anyone on staff needs remedial training in human decency and dealing with families.

The winners were announced on Tuesday. In the Children’s and Young Adult Literature category, the winner was Deadly by Julie Chibbaro. I cannot say enough about this book. As I wrote in Tablet magazine, “This medical thriller is so exciting it’s like an episode of CSI with pages. It’s 1906, and a poor 16-year-old girl from the Lower East Side gets a typing job at the Department of Health and Sanitation. Her boss — on whom she develops a raging crush — is working on a new theory of disease transmission, and soon Prudence joins him in hot pursuit of Typhoid Mary. Like the Newbery-Honor-winning Evolution of Calpurnia Tate, this is really the story of a girl’s intellectual awakening. It’s not about marrying the cute doctor; it’s about realizing you could be a doctor. I admit it: I cried.”

I also really liked Music Was It, by Susan Goldman Rubin, one of the three finalists. What I wrote in Tablet: ”I opened this with a sigh, expecting the usual dense, hyper-sincere, spinach-y, plodding Jewish biography. I was wrong. This book reads like a juicy novel, and Rubin’s copious research is seamlessly integrated into the story. Kids with singular passions will relate to young Lenny’s love of music and his determination to make it his career despite his unsupportive father’s constant demands that he go into the family perm-equipment business. The book follows Lenny from childhood through his triumphant conducting debut at Carnegie Hall. It’s an effortless read, and even I, a philistine who cares not a whit about classical music, was swept up.”

I have nothing against the other finalists, but I think my agenda is different from the Jewish Book Council’s. My first priority is the literary and artistic caliber of the book; its moral and Jewish educational values are further down the list for me.

In the Illustrated Children’s Book category, the winner was The Golem’s Latkes, adapted by Eric A. Kimmel and illustrated by Aaron Jasinski. While Eric Kimmel is certainly a Jewish kidlit rock star, I didn’t personally adore this particular book. Purely a matter of taste. The illustrations are cute, cartoon-y and conventional, and I like my golems scary. The book turns an unnerving story set against a backdrop of anti-Semitism and danger into a cuddly, Disney-esque version of the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, with little potato carb bombs instead of dancing mops. In this version, the chief rabbi orders his servant girl to get ready for the holiday, but she’s lazy and awakens his golem and tells the golem to do everything while she goes off to gossip with another maid in the village. So of course the golem won’t stop making latkes, and the rabbi finds out, but oh ho ho, no worries  – we’ll just invite all of Prague to a latke party! It’s adorable! But (to over-read), in the Disney Sorcerer’s Apprentice, Mickey wants to be a magician. In this, the maid doesn’t want to be a Maharal; she’s just indolent and gossipy. And she has to be bailed out by the males — her boss and the leader of the goyim. Probably if you are not a humorless feminist like me you’ll lurve it. But I prefer the absofreakinlutely terrifying version of the story, Golem by David Wisniewski (with super-unnerving, dark, torn paper cut  art, it won the Caldecott Medal in 1997). To me, it certainly qualifies as making a distinguished contribution to children’s literature. I’m not sure The Golem’s Latkes does that.

The two National Jewish Book Award finalists in this category, however, are distinguished, I think. They were both on my best of the year list: Lipman Pike: America’s First Home Run King by Richard Michelson, illustrated by Zachary Pullen; and Marcel Marceau: Master of Mime by Gloria Spielman, illustrated by Manon Gauthier. Lipman Pike brings a little-known but fascinating historical figure to light, and does so with trippindicular, spectacular illustrations. And Marcel Marceau taught me brand-new things about a historical figure I thought I knew. (Dude joined the French Resistance at 16 to fight the Nazis! He used his artistic skills to doctor photos and forge ID cards to make other children look too young to be sent to death camps! He secretly led groups of Jewish children across the Swiss border to safety!) And again, the art is terrific — luminous and moving.

The book I’m really sad wasn’t honored: Flesh and Blood So Cheap: The Triangle Fire and Its Legacy by Albert Marrin. It was a National Book Award Finalist, and deservedly so. As I said in Tablet, “Marrin’s storytelling is fluid and fast-paced; the book’s jam-packed with eye-catching photos (some gruesome); and Marrin offers a nuanced explanation of the fire and its legacy, both national and global, in a well-designed, oversized volume. Essential.” I suspect it wasn’t deemed “Jewish enough” to be worthy of commendation (and it is certainly politically left-leaning in its discussion of sweatshop conditions today), but hey, what do I know.

Lovely little history of the Pyramid Club building (at 101 Avenue A) on Bowery Boogie today. The writer, an educator at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum named Allison B. Siegel, traces the address back to 1859, when the Lower East Side was a German immigrant community. One of the space’s earliest uses was as the home of the Peter Doelger Brewery. Mmm, brewery. 

According to the Greenwich Village Preservation Society’s research, 101 Avenue A then turned into a series of gathering and entertainment halls, hosting labor meetings, celebrations for the opening of Tompkins Square Park, and collective mourning for the victims of the General Slocum disaster. The current structure was built in 1876, designed by tenement architect William Jose. “This distinctive Neo-Grec design has an ornate cornice, fire escapes, and other facade details that stand out in the neighborhood,” the Preservation Society notes. After the German community moved uptown in the wake of the Slocum tragedy, the area became home to other ethnic groups, and the Pyramid Club opened in 1979 — for a while Nico lived in one of the apartments upstairs. There’s a delightful 2007 article about the performance art/drag/polysexual history of the club (including the ongoing attempt to get it landmarked) in the venerable Villager newspaper.

Why did I immediately latch onto Bowery Boogie’s mention of the brewery? Well, maybe because I married a man from Milwaukee. Beer is my (marital) heritage. On my first visit to his homeland, Jonathan took me on the Miller Brewery Factory Tour, which used to be an actual field trip for his high school, and which blew my mind by giving us three free beers and no food before turning us back onto Highway 41. Veyizmir. Milwaukeeans do not mess around. (Thirteen years later, I have also visited the Sprecher Brewery, the Lakefront Brewery and the Milwaukee Brewing Company. I still prefer gin.) And beer is democratic, whereas even in my 20s I was too dorky for the Pyramid Club. (Oh, I went. A few times. I was a bobbing dork in an ocean of cool.)

So. Since I am procrastinating like a madwoman today, I started doing my own research into the Doelger family brewery.

The New York Food Museum reports that Peter Doelger came to America from Bavaria in 1850. His brother Joseph had opened a brew house on East 3rd Street in 1846, and Peter decided to get into the business too. I’m not clear on the exact relationship between the brothers, but in 1911, a New York Times article about Peter Doelger buying a new location on Third Ave at 50th street indicates that he sold a building at 21 East 3rd Street between Second Ave and the Bowery (where East Village Music is today) in partial trade — perhaps that was originally Joseph’s building? In any case, according to beer expert Gregg Smith, Joseph also opened a location at 407-33 East 55th Street. Peter opened additional breweries too. Joseph died in 1882; his sons continued his business, renaming it (fittingly) Jos. Doelger’s Sons. Meanwhile, Peter built an entire empire — by 1885 he had the 11th largest brewing company in the country. Alas, he was no friend to the labor movement, resisting unionization of his workers despite an incident in which four men died in an accident at the plant. After a boycott and strike, the brewery ultimately did become a union shop. By the time Peter Doelger died in 1912, at 80, he was a millionaire with a huge home on Riverside Drive at 100th street. Fancy.

Perhaps fortunately for him, he didn’t live to deal with Prohibition. The family, led by his son (also named Peter), clearly saw the writing on the wall, as evidenced by this 1916 ad:

Brewers (and many prohibitionists) made a distinction between beer and DEMON ALCOHOL. How to define DEMON ALCOHOL made for an interesting struggle, but the Doelgers kept the family business going despite all the obstacles. According to an entertainingly obsessive beer-can-collecting web site called Rusty Cans, the Doelgers hung in there until 1946, through a move to New Jersey and  through the worst times of Prohibition. The absolutely delicious book Bootleg: Murder, Moonshine, and the Lawless Years of Prohibition, by the award-winning history writer Karen Blumenthal, details the battles of brewers and distillers and religious zealots and gangsters in a most readable way. And it is not in Google Books and I read a library copy and I only took notes on the Jewy stories in it for work, so I can’t share any of the fun tales of busts and the excesses of the temperance loons. Oh well. You should read it.

Lots of fun Peter Doelger memorabilia is available on eBay. Check out this awesome tray (from beer tray auction specialist Trayman!), showing the reach of Doelger from uptown on First Avenue to downtown and Avenue A.

Good times. Or not. Depending on who you talk to. Much like today.

Whatever, sure, it can FEED A BABY, but that is secondary to its sexytime purpose. This is why women are constantly told to stop nursing in public, escorted out of stores and restaurants, informed that they “would really be more comfortable” giving their baby a meal in the bathroom or far-off Disney lounge or whatever. BECAUSE WE ARE TANTALISING TEMPTRESSES AND ALSO CHESTICLES ARE HAWT.

Of course, I live in the East Village, where tattooed and choppy-haircutted new moms whip out their breasts and PRAY for someone to give them the stink eye so they can get outraged. It tends not to happen. I nursed for almost 2 years (cumulative score) but the only time I was given a hard time was in a Friendly’s (HA) on I-95 on the way back from Newport. We were sitting in a booth and a mom at a nearby table saw me feeding Maxie and had a SHITFIT. She yelled “THAT’S DISGUSTING; WE’RE EATING!” (What a coincidence; so was the baby.) And “I HAVE A TEENAGE SON! HE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO SEE THIS!” (The son in question looked mortified, and not by me.) She bellowed at me, “GO TO THE BATHROOM TO DO THAT!” (Did I mention this was a Friendly’s at a highway rest stop? Have you seen the bathrooms?)

When I continued to nurse and ignore her, she called the waitress over to demand that I be kicked out of the restaurant. Instead, the waitress moved her to another table where she didn’t have to face me and my Pillar-of-Salt cleavage. Well, she didn’t have to, but she hadn’t kept turning around to glare.  The waitress gave me an apologetic look, but I think she should have given me a free sundae.

Anyway. There was recently a nurse-in at Target because a woman was told she’d be “more comfortable” if she nursed in a dressing room than on the shopping floor. My friend Amy showed up as part of the lactating flash mob, and wrote about it for Cafe Mom, and posted a photo of herself goofily and kickily nursing her daughter while pushing a shopping cart. And OMG the COMMENTS. People were horrified. And grossed out, and full of fascinating comparisons: Nursing in public is apparently akin to changing a tampon in public! Or taking a dump in public! Good to know!

Anyway, it is not a big news flash that we are puritanical panters with issues. But we women buy into it! We play into the boobs-are-male-playthings notion when we support wink-wink-nudge-nudge breast cancer campaigns ( ”Save 2nd Base,” “Feel Your Boobies,” “I [heart] Boobies”) and when we fail to examine the leering brand names of most nursing and maternity lingerie: “Nummies,” “HOTmilk,” “WhoaMamma,” “MommyLicious,” and “Passion Spice,” and no I am not linking). Of course it’s fab to feel sexy when we’re pregnant or nursing. But it’s not helping anyone when we turn our breasts into objects. That’s not sexuality; that’s sexualization. Eroticism ceases to be a part of who we are; it becomes the whole enchilada. Boobies are presented on a platter for male delectation. That feeds the culture that freaks out about nursing.

Come on, we should get to feed babies where and when we want. And 45 states and the District of Columbia protect that right, though of course it gets challenged by individual stores and nutball Friendly’s patrons every day.  So: Marketers, stop the infernal cutesy leering that ultimately damages women, babies and dignity. Cafe Mom readers, leave Amy alone. Crotchety types, let women feed their kids where and when they want. (And what they want — formula peeps deserve respect too.) Can’t we please stop having this fight?

Very sad to read of the death of children’s book illustrator and writer Simms Taback on Christmas. He was a genius…and by all accounts a mensch. Tablet magazine contributor Steve Bodner wrote a lovely tribute, and included my Tablet profile from earlier this year. It’s worth rereading just for the slideshow of Simms’s work. May his memory be a blessing.

In the past I’ve done two columns on the best Jewish children’s books of the year — one devoted to little-kid books and one devoted to big-kid books. For various reasons, I could only do one column this year, so my list was shorter than I’d like. But I have a blog! So here are ALL the (very worthy!) contenders. (An asterisk indicates that a book is on the Tablet list; the other books are ones I thought were noteworthy even if they aren’t in the Tablet column.) Enjoy! Buy!

PICTURE BOOKS

Very young readers

Nosh Schlep Schluff* by Laurel Synder (Random House Books for Young Readers) A funny, sweet, Yiddish-teaching board book.

Many Days, One Shabbat* by Fran Manushkin, illustrated by Maria Monescillo (Marshall Cavendish Shofar w/PJ Library) A charming non-denominational Shabbat book for very young readers.

The Shabbat Princess* by Amy Meltzer (Kar-Ben) Very cute story, somewhat saccharine illustrations, perfect for the princess-obsessed.

4-8 yr olds

I Will Come Back For You* by Marisabina Russo (Schwartz & Wade) A very well done, not too scary Italian-family-escaping-the-Nazis picture book.

Naamah and the Ark at Night* by Susan Campbell Bartoletti, illustrated by Holly Meade (Candlewick) Gorgeous, poetic bedtime story told by Noah’s wife — this could work for kids as young as two.

The Story of Esther* by Eric A. Kimmel, illustrated by Jill Weber (Holiday House) To my surprise, Maxie (age 7) loved this – it’s a pretty sophisticated retelling with wonderful Moorish cartoon-y-meets-painterly illustrations. I love it too.

Kishka for Koppel by Aubrey Davis, illustrated by Sheldon Cohen (Orca) An amusing retelling of the old folktale of magic-fish wish-granting that will require explaining what kishka is, which is too bad, because I’m sorry, Kishka is DISGUSTING.

Room Enough for Daisy by Debby Waldman, illustrated by Rita Feutl (Orca) A modern retelling of an old Yiddish folktale – a girl complains about her room being too small, so her mom makes her move tons of stuff into it, and when the stuff is finally removed, the kid thinks her room feels huge – a nice story for our privileged youth!

Estie the Mensch by Jane Kohuth, illustrated by Rosanne Litzinger (Random House) An odd, sweet tale of an exuberant kid who people keep telling to “be a mensch”…and she proves herself to be one while also being true to her quirky self. Delightful old-fashioned but not stuffy art.

Hannah’s Way by Linda Glaser, illustrated by Adam Gustavson (Kar Ben) A very writ-small, old-fashioned story, based on a true anecdote about a kid growing up in the only Jewish family in her 19^th century Minnesota town – she’s forbidden to get into a car to go to her class picnic on Shabbat…but there’s a sweet solution to the problem.

How Dalia Put a Big Yellow Comforter Inside a Tiny Blue Box and Other Wonders of Tzedakah by Linda Heller, illustrated by Stacey Dressen McQueen (Kar-Ben) Nice sibling story with a slightly confusing structure for younger kids – it will get clearer to kids on subsequent readings — about the miracles tzedakah can accomplish.

Lipman Pike* by Richard Michelson (Sleeping Bear Press) A biography with supercool, hyperreal, semi-trippy art of America’s first home-run king, the first Jewish baseball star. Who knew?

Marcel Marceau: Master of Mime* by Gloria Spielman, illustrated by Manon Gauthier (Kar-Ben) A fascinating biography of the mime – what an interesting life!! — for older picture book readers. I’d give this to any kid with an interest in acting, clowning or physical comedy.

Chanukah Lights* by Michael J. Rosen and Robert Sabuda (Candlewick) A historical pop-up book so gorgeous, parents will be afraid to let their children touch it. This would be a lovely hostess gift if you were invited to a latke party.

Liberty’s Voice: The Emma Lazarus Story by Erica Silverman, illustrated by Stacey Schuett (Dutton) A bio of the Statue of Liberty poet that emphasizes her Jewishness.

Irena’s Jars of Secrets, by Marcia Vaughan, illustrated by Ron Mazellan (Lee & Low) A very good bio for the youngest readers of Irena Sendler, the righteous gentile who saved many Jewish children in Poland during the Holocaust. The stately art is by a former Sydney Taylor Honor Awardee.

CHAPTER BOOKS

Middle grade

The Cats in the Doll Shop* by Yona Zeldis McDonough, illustrated by Heather Maione (Viking Juvenile) A sequel to The Doll Shop Downstairs, which made my list a few years ago – but I think I like this one even more. It’s a sweet, low-stress, old-fashioned Penderwicks/Saturdays/All-of-a-Kind-Family-esque story, and it falls into that hard-to-find niche of early chapter books. A 7- to 10-year-old could read it alone.

When Life Gives You OJ* by Erica S. Perl (Knopf) Yay! The holy grail of kid-friendly, contemporary, funny middle grade novels with Jewish protagonists whom modern-day readers will find familiar! A girl, her zayde, and her quest for a pet dog. No Holocaust, no shtetl, just kids on bikes in the burbs and an embarrassing but awesome grandfather.

OyMG* by Amy Fellner Dominy (Walker Books for Young Readers) A girl who wants to be a debate star hides her Jewish identity to try to get a scholarship for a ritzy Christian prep school with a great debate team. The author is a playwright and it shows – she has a terrific gift for dialog.

Music Was IT* by Susan Goldman Rubin (Charlesbridge). I did not expect to love this, since I am a musical philistine. But Rubin’s great use of original source material brings the young Leonard Bernstein – with his unsupportive dad who wanted him to go into the family perm-equipment business!—to life. The book takes him from childhood through his conducting debut at Carnegie Hall. I felt the passion! Even the endnotes are eminently readable. And there are tons of photos of the very handsome young Bernstein. I’d buy this for any kid with a passion for any kind of art; Bernstein’s hustle and drive, despite lots of challenges, are great object lessons in what you have to do if you want to make it in a creative field.

The Inquisitor’s Apprentice by Chris Moriarty (Harcourt) Ach, I wanted to like this so much more than I did. It’s being pitched as “The Jewish Harry Potter” – an alternate universe of New York City at the turn of the 20^th century ruled by hidden magic and robber barons who want to steal and corporatize it. Such a great idea, not such great execution. Warning: Tonally weird, goes from jokey to really, really scary. If your kid likes fantasy, doesn’t mind some slightly confusing stage-setting and can handle scariness, it could be a home-run.

Then by Morris Gleitzman (Henry Holt/Macmillan) A sequel to Once, which was on my best-of-the-year list last year, by an Aussie writer with a real gift for using humor in terrible situations. Yup, it’s a Nazi story. As with the first book, this is such an accomplished piece of writing, with a strong voice and gripping writing and a truly masterful blend of humor and sorrow.  The thing is, it’s so dark I can’t think of a kid I’d give it to.

Your Friend in Fashion, Abby Shapiro by Amy Axelrod (Holiday House) An unusual, overstuffed book. A Jewish girl in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s who yearns to be a fashion designer sends pen pal letters and dress sketches to Jackie Kennedy, while coping with her desire for a bra and a Barbie, an abusive father, family secrets and scary neighbors. The dad is really too dark a character for the rest of the book, and it all feels just a little too sprawling and undisciplined and overlong, but I admire the ambition and voice. Despite its flaws, I keep thinking about it long after I finished it.

Hammerin’ Hank Greenberg by Shelley Sommer (Boyds Mills Press) An oversized, photo-filled bio of baseball’s Hank Greenberg for the baseball-obsessed.

Bigger than a Bread Box by Laurel Snyder (Random House). Darn that Laurel Snyder, with two terrific books this year! This one is a lovely, creepy-funny-sad story of a 12-year-old girl coping with her parents dissolving marriage and her discovery of a magic bread box. Discovering the box’s double-edged powers forces Rebecca to figure out what her values and desires really are. The characters just happen to be Jewish — it’s not a central part of the plot — but to me the matter-of-factness is refreshing.

Young Adult

Deadly* by Julie Chibbaro (Atheneum) Exciting! Like an episode of CSI! A poor 16-year-old Jewish girl from the Lower East Side in 1906 gets a typing job at the Department of Health and Sanitation, where her boss – on whom she develops a crush – is in hot pursuit of Typhoid Mary. Like The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate, this is really a story of a girl’s intellectual awakening. I loved it. Great cover, too.

Flesh and Blood So Cheap* by Albert Marrin (Knopf) Yes, we all know I am obsessed with the Triangle Fire. Shut up. But that makes me a really critical reader! And the non-Jewish critical world agrees with me that this book is AMAZING, so there. Tons of photos – some gruesome – fluid writing, great explanation of the fire and its legacy, both national and global, in a well-designed, oversized book. Essential.

Threads and Flames by Esther Friesner (Viking Juvenile) Wah, this was published in 2010, but it came out too late to make last year’s Best Books list, and now I see it is out of print. Publishing is a harsh mistress. It’s a huge bummer, because this book is a truly painless history lesson and a page-turner at the same time. OK, some of the plot points, and certainly the ending, are unrealistically tidy, but this is a truly readable novel about young immigrant girls and the Triangle Fire, with a lot of humor and a love story – Josie adored it. Buy it from a reseller!

The Berlin Boxing Club* by Robert Sharenow (HarperTeen) A real boy book about a Jewish kid in Germany growing up in an artistic family as the Nazis come to power, trained in fighting by the famous non-Jewish boxer Max Schmeling – it’s unpredictable, exciting, rip-roaring storytelling, based on the germ of a true story. I appreciated that it was a sports book that wasn’t irksomely macho or homophobic.

In Trouble by Ellen Levine (Lerner/Carolrhoda lab) A Jewish teen and her Catholic best friend cope with unwanted pregnancy in the 1950s, pre Roe-v-Wade. This book is very feminist, very gripping, and very good discussion fodder for mothers and daughters.

Miss Etta and Dr Claribel: Bringing Matisse to Americaby Susan Fillion (David R Godine) A beautiful, sophisticated art book that would be a great counterpoint to a Cone Sisters or Matisse exhibition. The text is a little dense for kids who aren’t already art-savvy.

Read, baby, read.