Gr 1-4-Aaron Lansky could not forget what his grandmother told him as a child. At the age of 16, she immigrated to the United States from Eastern Europe. In his twenties, Lansky decided to find out more about his grandmother's stories, which set him on a journey to learn how to speak and read Yiddish and to also locate Yiddish books. The result is the Yiddish Book Center in Amherst, MA. Lansky's story is a fascinating one, filled with book rescues and meeting older people who not only treasure books but what they represent. His disappointments and rewards in pursuing this passion are well portrayed. The narrative is both informative and engaging and includes Yiddish words, many of which have been incorporated into English. All appear in a glossary. An afterword by Lansky himself brings the Center and his work up to date. Illustrations intentionally call to mind the bold line and semi-abstraction of Russian-born artist Marc Chagall. ­VERDICT A potentially valuable addition to both school and public libraries as well as Jewish schools. Echoing Carole Boston Weatherford's Schomburg: The Man Who Built a Library, the book's narrative shows that pursuing interests can lead to meaningful and long-lasting results.-Maria B. Salvadore, formerly at District of Columbia Public Library--School Library Journal "September 2019"

Macy, who has written books about women's history and sports, knows how to start a tale: "Kum aher. Sit down. I want to tell you a story." In these luminescent pages, an "All-American boy" grows into a man in love with a language considered dead. The text is sprinkled with Yiddish ("Aaron could have plotzed! Destroying Yiddish books was like erasing Jewish history!") without getting Catskills-y.

Innerst's acrylic, gouache and digital art shares the book's gentle humor: Little Aaron was a Star Trek fan, and images of Leonard Nimoy (a Yiddish-speaker himself) as Spock sneakily appear, like a pointy-eared Waldo, throughout the book. A cheerful spread strews around Yiddish words that have entered the vernacular ("klutz," "bagel," "glitch"). In another, little Aaron and hippie collegiate Aaron are each surrounded by washes of warm reds and pinks and flying rings of books forming a subtle infinity sign.--The New York Times "12/5/2019"

Macy begins her nar­ra­tive by invit­ing the read­er to ?"Kum aher. Sit down. I want to tell you a sto­ry." At first, it may seem as if roman­ti­cized fam­i­ly mem­o­ries will pre­dom­i­nate as we learn that Lansky's immi­grant grand­moth­er was told by her broth­er to toss her suit­case full of use­less items from the past into the Hud­son Riv­er. It soon becomes clear that this poignant anec­dote is only the begin­ning, as the woman's grand­son retrieves the cul­ture lost in that suit­case; Macy and Innerst empha­size the ordi­nary nature of this ?"all-Amer­i­can boy" grow­ing up in a small Mass­a­chu­setts town. Although the cul­tur­al relics depict­ed in Innerst's por­trait may be dat­ed the vision of child­hood as a time of unlim­it­ed curios­i­ty is not. Soon Aaron's love of read­ing and sense of con­nec­tion to his family's past becomes a con­sum­ing passion.

Chil­dren will iden­ti­fy with the obsta­cles which Lan­sky con­fronts in the form of skep­ti­cal estab­lish­ment fig­ures who have lit­tle patience for his mis­sion. When he calls on ?"the lead­ers of the biggest Jew­ish orga­ni­za­tions in the coun­try" to warn them that Yid­dish books are being tossed in the trash by those who no longer see a use for them, the response he receives would dis­cour­age any­one less focused.

Innerst describes in an ?"Illustrator's Note" how the influ­ence of Cha­gall helped him bring Jew­ish cul­ture to life. Some of the book's scenes are direct homages to that artist while oth­ers rep­re­sent a sub­tle response to his vision. One incred­i­ble two-page spread shows a styl­ized mod­el of the Jew­ish world in all its mul­ti­ple set­tings, from shtetl build­ings to the palm trees of the Mid­dle East. The ?"ground" on which these fea­tures stand is a col­lage of pages filled with Yid­dish print, form­ing a foun­da­tion for the world above it. Innerst's art­work is a com­plex inter­play of Chagall's world and that of late twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry Amer­i­ca. He cap­tures the tran­si­tion between gen­er­a­tions, as the book collector's tremen­dous ener­gy meets the qui­et dig­ni­ty of old­er Jews ready to pass on their tra­di­tion. One pic­ture shows two elder­ly hands giv­ing a Yid­dish book to Lansky's youth­ful ones; the book is enti­tled sym­bol­i­cal­ly chai (life). The silence of this image is fol­lowed by a much dif­fer­ent one, fea­tur­ing the vibrant activ­i­ty in the Yid­dish Book Cen­ter where Lansky's dream has become a reality.

The Book Res­cuer is high­ly rec­om­mend­ed not only for chil­dren but for old­er read­ers who are inspired by the revival of Yid­dish cul­ture, as well. It includes an ?"After­word" by Aaron Lan­sky, an ?"Author's Note," an ?"Illustrator's Note," a Yid­dish glos­sary, and a list of addi­tion­al sources.--Jewish Book Council