If nobody in your family is female and under 30, then you might not know about American Girl dolls or books.
Even if you know about the series, you may not take it seriously. I have literary and scholarly friends who dismiss anything the company (now a subsidiary of the Mattel Corporation) publishes as insipid, good only for selling overpriced dolls, redeemable only insofar as they introduce children to history.
After I learned earlier this spring that the company was releasing a Rebecca Rubin doll, circa 1914, only one thing surprised me: that Jacqueline Dembar Greene, author of the six accompanying books about the new Russian Jewish historical character, expressed surprise at the buzz they have generated.
As a librarian and mother of three girls, I can well understand the excitement about this new series. The books represent a momentous event in publishing history; with these books, our children have access to Jewish literature that is age appropriate and positive.
Unfortunately, so much contemporary children’s literature isn’t appropriate for readers under 10, not even those with advanced skills. And too often, the message we give our children is, “Be a good Jew, because people out there hate Jews.”
Now, our children have something new to read about their own heritage that won’t frighten them or make them feel sorry for themselves.
Rabbi David Wolpe, quoted in the American Girl/Mattel press kit, called Rebecca “a marvelous introduction to the Jewish immigrant experience.” Blu Greenberg said, “I simply cannot wait to read this to my grandchildren.”
Not since Sydney Taylor wrote “All of a Kind Family” more than half a century ago has any children’s publisher undertaken such a comprehensive project on a Jewish subject.
Unless another publisher rises to the occasion, Rebecca’s story may provide the only knowledge many young people ever gain, not only about immigrants in American history but about Jews and about the Jewish religion itself.
Greene was a logical choice to write the series. She has already shown how well she understands that there is more to Jewish history than the period between 1933 and 1945. Her award-winning “Out of Many Waters” and “One Foot Ashore” chronicle the stories of two sisters kidnapped by the Inquisition and enslaved in Brazil before they reunite in New Amsterdam.
Taking on this commission for such a high-profile publisher requires great courage and fortitude. When writing about Jews, one courts inevitable criticism from people who think the character is either too religious or not religious enough, too stereotypical, or not representative. There are those who object to the very fact that she’s Jewish at all.
Even the design team argued for years about the color of the doll’s hair (light brown with auburn highlights) and eyes (hazel). According to the old adage, where there are two Jews, there are three opinions. No wonder Rebecca has been in the works since the year 2000.
Of course, “Meet Rebecca,” the first of the books, contains all the obligatory classic clichés about Judaism and 20th century Jewish American life: Americanized names, the Sabbath guest, putting money in the pushke, the Sabbath candles lit on time, the family Sabbath dinner with challah baked to perfection, the pious bubbie (grandmother) and synagogue services.
The plots, too, fit into expected patterns. The heroine must sacrifice her own personal aspirations (in this case the dream of saying the Hebrew blessing of a Friday evening over her very own candles) to help a family less fortunate than hers.
According to the publisher’s materials, the series’ other books include equally predictable story lines: her public school observes a non-Jewish holiday, her birthday cake must be kosher for Passover and her brother will have his bar mitzvah.
This series genre may seem hackneyed or formulaic, but for the incipient reader learning to recognize patterns, follow plots and make inferences, such predictability is beneficial.
On the other hand, Greene balances the story so it’s not “too Jewish” for a general audience. Bubbie’s husband is not Zeydie, but Grandpa. The parents are not Mamme and Tatte, but Mama and Papa. Papa works on Saturdays. Girls crochet trousseaux. Cousin Max tells a Russian folk tale about a tsar, a farmer’s daughter, and a magical hare.
Unfortunately, Greene will have to brace herself for some inevitable nitpicking, about the incongruous names, maybe, or anachronisms in the illustrations, such as the post WWII style yarmulke (it would have been taller and larger than today’s typical style) and a Yiddish misspelling.
People will complain that she sets the story in New York but doesn’t write more about that city’s rich Jewish secular culture. Perhaps the omission was intentional. That New York secular culture was often connected with left-wing ideological movements, which might disturb some of Mattel’s potential consumers.
Although a lifelong socialist, Sydney Taylor wrote during the depths of the McCarthy Era and did not discuss her characters’ politics either.
We can hope that publishers will view Jewish life and culture through a wider lens.
The release of a Jewish character by such a popular company is a great step forward. If we expect books to insure the next generation’s Jewish identity, however, it is not enough to fill another inch or two of space on our shelves.
Only when libraries have shelves full of Jewish literary characters for our children, children who have moved beyond picture books but are not yet ready for the edgier Young Adult titles, will we be able to say we have done what we can for them.
Susan Ellman, MLS, taught history before she became the librarian at Congregation Emanu-El B’ne Jeshurun. Her novel on a similar subject is currently under consideration by a major publisher.
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