Review by New York Times Review
I BELIEVE in scaring children a little. My daughter has never totally forgiven me for reading to her when she was not yet 3 Maurice Sendak's "Outside Over There," with its faceless goblins and their theft of a little girl's baby sister. I like to think, though, that being haunted by that macabre book led to my daughter's fanatical devotion to fairy tales, with which she now alarms her dolls. So I was disposed to adore "The Golem's Latkes," by Eric A. Kimmel, a Hanukkah story entwined with the legend of the golem, the Jewish Frankenstein. And I like the book fine. But it would be too tame for my daughter. In a prefatory note, Kimmel explains that his story draws on "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" as well as the golem story; Goethe wrote the poem about the enchanted broom that won't stop fetching water, but I detect the influence of the Disney movie in Rimmel's version. Rabbi Judah of Prague takes a lump of clay and makes a giant. He writes a magic word on the giant's forehead (the Hebrew word "emet," or "truth"). The giant comes to life, and turns out to be a handy sort of fellow to have around the Jewish quarter. There's only one problem. He doesn't know when to quit digging or plastering or sweeping or washing. He has to be told: "Golem, enough." When Rabbi Judah hires a new housemaid to clean house and make latkes for the coming holiday while he goes out for the day - then gives her permission to use the golem as backup crew - well, let's just say that it actually is possible to make too many latkes. In older versions of the golem story, when the monster got out of control, which he did by murdering and rampaging rather than frying up too much food, Rabbi Judah changed the word "emet" to "met," which is Hebrew for "death," and the golem collapsed in a heap of dust. The denouement in "The Golem's Latkes" is rather more lifeaffirming. Aaron Jasinski's expressive illustrations bring a sly raffishness to the characters, counteracting the Magic Kingdom cheerfulness of this unusually uncrooked Prague. Even the Czech emperor Rudolf - not otherwise considered a friend of the Jews - joins in the fun. "Chanukah Lights," by Michael J. Rosen and illustrated by Robert Sabuda, is a pop-up book with elaborate paper cutouts and an appealing premise: Throughout history, Jews over the world have lighted candles on each of the eight nights of Hanukkah, celebrating the holiday of freedom. This gives Sabuda, a talented paper engineer, the chance to fabricate land- or cityscapes of historical interest and architectural charm, one for each night. There's the Temple with its Hellenistic facade, where the oil lamp miraculously burned for eight days; a large tent in the desert where the Jews once wandered, complete with inquisitive camels; an enormous synagogue surrounded by palm trees and windmills, presumably meant to be one of the old synagogues built in the Dutch Indies; and so on. On the sixth night we get to the Jewish Lower East Side, a tour-de-force of pop-up artistry, featuring vendors' carts and a dray horse and wash hanging out to dry between realistic tenements. All of this is done with plain white cardboard, but the absence of color in no way diminishes the magic, and children old enough not to wreck these delicate constructions will surely love them. Their parents will have to work a bit at explaining Rosen's text, however. Those who don't already know quite a lot about Jewish history will be mystified by the captions, which allude elliptically to different moments in the long Jewish quest for refuge from persecution. Why are Jews lighting Hanukkah candles in the holds of square-topsail schooners? What do towering, elegant onion-domed churches have to do with the Jewish search for safety? The mushy, overwrought writing doesn't clarify much, referring vaguely to refugees longing for peace or families huddling in a shtetl. I would not expect the audience for this book to know that Jews crossed the Atlantic looking for religious freedom with the first settlers of the New World, which explains the old-fashioned ships, or that the Russian Orthodox church sometimes helped foment pogroms in Jewish villages. Though children may be too enchanted by the cutouts to care. David A. Adler's "Story of Hanukkah" introduces the basic rudiments of the Hanukkah legend to, say, kindergartners, with illustrations that remind me of my Hebrew school Hanukkah pageants. Bearded Jewish men with blue cloth thingies on their heads, Jewish women with the same, Greek soldiers with horsehair crests on their helmets: I've worn those costumes in my life, or know someone who has. These figures sometimes walk and sometimes float through these pages with a Chagalllike indifference to the law of gravity. Look more closely, though, and you'll see that Jill Weber, the illustrator, has enlivened the kitsch with some nice detail. Her soldiers wear convincing-looking greaves on their legs. There's a pig hiding behind a column; perhaps he's hiding so as not to become the pig sacrifice Antiochus IV made in the Temple (though that incident is not mentioned in the text). My daughter, a Jewish day-school student, was shocked by the vivid image of a Greek soldier slicing a Torah scroll in half with his sword, an unthinkably blasphemous act to most Jews. If you want your children to be seized by the story of Hanukkah, rather than dutifully learning it, I have to recommend another book: Maida Silverman's "Festival of Lights: The Story of Hanukkah," first published in 1987, with lovely illustrations by Carol Ewing. Silverman and Ewing understand that children want to know what life felt like back then and how things really went down: what foods would have been for sale at the Jerusalem shuk, what the town of Modiin might have looked like on a summer afternoon, the agonizing suspense accompanying the Maccabees' unlikely military successes. "Festival of Lights" is the fairly detailed story of a populist revolt, written at maybe one grade level above "The Story of Hanukkah." I read it to my children when they were in preschool, and then again every year. They didn't understand every word, but they grasped that the Maccabees were real people living through terrible times, that the outcome could have been quite different, and that whether or not the miracle of the oil burning for eight days happened or didn't (they debate this topic), the miracle of Jews surviving to tell their stories did. Rededicating the Temple, from "The Story of Hanukkah." Judith Shulevitz is the author of "The Sabbath World: Glimpses of a Different Order of Time."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [December 4, 2012]
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
The events commemorated in the holiday of Hanukkah are retold simply for young ears by prolific children's author Adler (Cam Jansen books) in a religious and historical lesson. Weber's full-spread color illustrations, with an emphasis on traditional holiday blue, convey the epic scope of the story: the victorious rebellion of the Maccabees against the forces of the occupying Seleucid Empire, the rededication of the temple in Jerusalem, and the miracle of oil that burned for eight days. The narration ends with an explanation of the contemporary celebration of the holiday by families, accompanied by framed, family photo-like illustrations. A recipe from Weber for latkes that children can make and instructions for playing dreidel, the traditional holiday game, are bonuses in this family-oriented book designed to impart traditions. Ages 4-8. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 2-A straightforward retelling that emphasizes the historical origins of the holiday. Recounting the hard-fought battle of a small band of Jews (known as Maccabees) against the armies of King Antiochus IV, as well as the rededication of the Temple in Jerusalem following its desecration, the book places the celebration in a context that is less about miracles (one day's oil lasting for eight days), and more about the Jews' fight for religious freedom. The simple, accessible text is enhanced by acrylic spreads in rich, warm colors that bring both solemnity and excitement to the story. With so much holiday hoopla focusing on less historical, more celebratory aspects of Hanukkah, it is good to have a book that tells it like it was. A latke recipe and directions for playing dreidel are included. A welcome addition.-Teri Markson, Los Angeles Public Library (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
Adler's straightforward, accessible retelling of the Hanukkah story begins in Judea at the temple "on top of a mountain and called the House of God...inside was a ner tamid, a light that always burned." The violence against and oppression of Jews following King Antiochus IV's coronation is detailed, along with triumphant revolt by the Maccabees. The narrative concludes with rebuilding of the temple -- and the great miracle that happened there -- along with modern-day observances of events; a recipe for latkes and instructions for the dreidel game are appended. Acrylic illustrations richly accented with deep blues and luminous golds recall ancient friezes and ceramics. elissa gershowitz (c) Copyright 2011. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
The story of war, destruction and renewal in ancient Judea, fueled by the Jewish determination to freely maintain a belief in one God.Adler recounts the plight of the small Jewish army led against Greek King Antiochus IV first by the old priest Mattathias and then by his son Judah in a direct, active voice. Throughout, explanations are provided for the cause of the conflict, the meaning of the word Maccabee and why the Jewish army was known by that name and legend of the fabledner tamid,or eternal light, that remained lit for eight days with only one day's supply of oil. Diminutive, often detailed Biblical scenes in acrylic paints complement the plainspoken narrative. A final, contemporary two-page view of menorah lighting and dreidel play appears along with a basic description of how the holiday is celebrated today with songs, fried potato pancakes, jelly doughnuts and an explanation of the dreidel's Hebrew acronym for the sentence, "A great miracle happened there." There is only brief mention of the sometime modern-day practice of giving gifts.This very traditional chronicle remains true to the legendary Judaic story, making it an excellent introduction to the holiday. (recipe, game directions)(Picture book/religion. 6-8)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
