The matriarch of Jewish American children’s literature is finally the subject of a picture book biography. While Sydney Taylor’s All-of-a-Kind Family series is still popular now, Richard Michelson and Sarah Green’s One of a Kind will draw in new Taylor fans and offer information about her life and career to old ones.
This book provides an accurate account of who Taylor was and how she came to delight generations of readers. A determined and multitalented woman, Taylor infused every literary classic she wrote with her own life experiences. Like the middle child in All-of-a-Kind Family, Taylor was originally named Sarah, not Sydney. Born into the Jewish immigrant Brenner family, she had two older and two younger sisters. Her hardworking parents had escaped antisemitism in Europe and found economic opportunities in their new country. Like so many others, they originally settled on New York’s Lower East Side, “the smelliest, noisiest, most crowded neighborhood in the world.” At least that was the way it appeared to its residents, whose lives were both restricted by poverty and strengthened by tradition. This paradox of fidelity to the past and desire for change contributed to Taylor’s development as an artist.
Taylor’s firm conviction that inequality was unjust drove her to anger, and the limited roles available to women propelled her to seek alternatives. In vibrant scenes with subtle colors, the illustrator portrays Taylor’s ambivalence. As her smiling mother patiently slices a loaf of bread, Taylor sits with her elbows on the table, her chin propped in her hand. The expression on her face is one of frustration. She seems to be imagining a different world. In the following pages, she takes trips to the public library, where her literary role models — specifically, Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women—show her the way forward.
Taylor found comfort and security in Jewish observance, but she also looked to the outer world for other forms of self-expression. Before pursuing her writing career, she took classes in theater and dance at the Henry Street Settlement. She eventually danced with the Martha Graham Company and directed drama programs at Camp Cejwin. An elegant portrait of Taylor as a modern dancer in a striking red dress stands in contrast to the pinafore-wearing girls from her childhood.
In 1919, Taylor began to keep a diary, which she signed with her new name, Sydney. It seemed more contemporary than Sarah, and she felt its gender neutralness might protect her from the prejudice female authors faced.
Taylor met her husband, Ralph, at a meeting of the Young People’s Socialist League, a detail that is often overlooked in more sentimental descriptions of her life. While they both began as activists, Ralph became a successful businessmen, and Taylor channeled her storytelling skills into vivid tales for her daughter, Jo, who had asked a question that still resonates today: “Why isn’t there a book about Jewish children?” But, intuiting that editors’ responses to that question might not be favorable, Taylor kept her manuscript in a drawer. Then, unbeknownst to her, Ralph sent it to a competition at Follet Publishers. They accepted the story about Ella, Henny, Sarah, Charlotte, and Gertie for publication. This “happily ever after” ending was the result not of one story stuffed in a drawer, but of years of compromise, dedication, and talent.
The Sydney Taylor who emerges in this book is an iconic figure in the world of Jewish children’s literature. Yet she has also clearly earned a place in the diverse canon of American children’s books. She understood that representing the particular experiences of one group does not exclude others. The final image of this biography — in which Taylor’s book and portrait join those of other writers in a public library — reflects that truth.
Emily Schneider writes about literature, feminism, and culture for Tablet, The Forward, The Horn Book, and other publications, and writes about children’s books on her blog. She has a Ph.D. in Romance Languages and Literatures.
