Happy Birthday, America!

A version of this review appeared in the July 2009 Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle. I offer it in time for the Fourth of July.

At last, the tenth has arrived! All right already, she's only nine years old until her next birthday, and none of the other nine girls is Jewish, and all of them are eighteen inches tall and made of vinyl, so maybe the minyan they make won't be strictly kosher. But nu? Rebecca Rubin, the latest historical character from the American Girl company still warrants a warm welcome.

No, I have not suddenly found the means to buy a $100 doll. My interest is in the set of books about the Rebecca character, which will soon find their way onto school library shelves across the country. We find so few books on Jewish themes that are appropriate for readers under twelve (not even readers with advanced skills) but younger Jewish children will now have something to read about their 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 a project of such scope about American Jewish history. Unless another publisher rises to the occasion, Rebecca's six-volume story may provide the only knowledge many young people ever gain, about not only ethnic immigrant groups in American history but about Jews and the Jewish religion itself.

After I learned earlier this spring that the American Girl company was releasing a Russia Jewish character, circa 1914, the only thing that surprised me about the books was that their author Jacqueline Dembar Greene expressed surprise at the excitement Rebecca has generated. Yes, many of my friends in academia view the publisher's books as insipid, valuable only insofar as they help introduce children to history. These series may seem hackneyed or formulaic, but for the eight or nine year old reader, such predictability has positive value.  Beginning readers need to practice making inferences and predicting plots to develop their comprehension skills.

To write the series American Girl logically chose Greene, who understands that there is more to Jewish history than the period between 1933 and 1945. Greene's Out of Many Waters and One Foot Ashore chronicle the stories of two sisters kidnapped by the Inquisition and enslaved on a plantation in Brazil before they reunite in New Amsterdam.

Taking on this commission for such a high profile publisher requires courage and fortitude. When writing about Jews, one courts inevitable criticism, from people who think the character is too religious, not religious enough, too stereotypical, not representative enough, or, sadly, who object to the very fact that she's Jewish at all. Even the design team argued for years about the doll's hair (light brown with auburn highlights) and eye (hazel) colors.

Of course Meet Rebecca, the first of the books, contains all the obligatory classic clichés about Judaism and twentieth century Jewish-American life. She lives in New York. Russian Jews Americanize their names, a guest joins the family for Shabbos dinner, they must put money in the pushkah, candles must be lit on time, the challah must be baked to perfection, the menu must include chicken soup, the family must include a Bubbe, and people must attend synagogue services. 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. Later in the series, the public school observes non-Jewish holidays, the birthday cake must be kosher for Passover, the brother will have his bar mitzvah, and workers in a garment factory go on strike.

On the other hand, Greene balances the story so it's "not too Jewish" for a general audience. Bubbe's husband is not Zeyde, but Grandpa. The parents are not Mamme and Tatte, but Mama and Papa. Bubbe fries fish on Friday, although the family forgets to eat it.  Papa works on Saturdays. Girls crochet trousseaux. A guest tells a Russian folk tale about the tsar, a farmer's daughter, and a magical giant rabbit.

Unfortunately, Greene should expect inevitable nitpicking, about the incongruous names and anachronisms in the illustrations, such as the post WWII style yarmulke and the Yiddish misspelling (אָפען or אפן would be correct, but not אוֹפּען). People will complain that she set the story in New York but doesn't write more about that city's rich Jewish secular culture. Of course much of that, perhaps to the disappointment of many people who can afford to shell out hundreds of dollars for dolls and their accessories, has always had a decidedly leftist political slant. Sydney Taylor, working in the depths of the McCarthy era, downplayed it as well. We can hope that publishers are now willing to view Jewish life and culture through a wider lens.

That such a popular company has released a Jewish doll and her story 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. Ten warm bodies (or in this case, ten cute little upturned vinyl noses) do not constitute a viable congregation. Twenty-first century Jewry will also require able leaders and thinkers who add substantially to existing scholarship. Better than a minyan of American Girl dolls, I as a librarian would like to see a minyan of Jewish characters in new children's literature.

Only when libraries have shelves full of books 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 provided for them adequately.