Jella Lepman (1891−1970), a visionary activist, was one of the founders of IBBY, the International Board on Books for Young People. In a new illustrated biography, acclaimed author Katherine Paterson and artist Sally Deng present the story of Lepman’s inspirational life and work.
Lepman was a Jewish woman who fled Nazi Germany. After their defeat by the Allies, Lepman focused her energies on the delivery of books to the children of her former enemies. Eventually she broadened her scope to encompass the children of the world, but, paradoxically, she never focused on the small remnant of surviving Jews in Europe. Paterson tries to restore the specific facts about Lepman’s Jewish heritage, although the crusading literacy pioneer deemphasized them in framing the path towards her commitment.
Raised in an educated and affluent family in Stuttgart, Jella Lehmann, like many German Jews, was unprepared for the rise of fascism in her homeland. Paterson emphasizes the sexism that Jella confronted as one of the few female editors in Germany. When she found refuge in England, she continued her career in journalism. After the war ended, Lepman worked with the American occupation forces, soliciting donations of children’s books and funding to establish an International Youth Library in Munich. The ultimate fruit of her labors would be the establishment of IBBY in Switzerland, promoting excellence in books for children across the globe. Paterson details Lepman’s persistence in the face of objections that her aspirations were unrealistic. She acknowledged the terrible material deprivations affecting children, but believed that the rise of another dangerous demagogue could only by prevented by nourishing their intellects and emotions.
Early in the book, Paterson describes Lepman’s sadness at witnessing the arrival of Jewish children to England on the kindertransport program. Yet, as she translates her convictions into activism, the experience of Jewish children is left aside. There are moving descriptions of suffering and violence inflicted on German children, who are, like all children, not responsible for the decisions of adults. When Lepman directly experiences the antisemitism of unrepentant Nazi supporters, Paterson reports her rationalizing their actions as somehow inevitable: “But perhaps that is what frail human beings are like.” Collecting original artwork by children from countries such as England and France, attacked or occupied by the Germans, Lepman concludes that “saddest of all was work by German children … cramped, gritty pictures … depicting ruin after ruin.” Paterson never raises the question of why Lepman distanced herself from the campaign to restore Jewish life to Europe. This omission is an opportunity to discuss possible answers with young readers.
Sally Deng’s illustrations shine with artistic innovation, and sensitivity to the task of depicting a tumultuous era. Delicate brushstrokes and subdued shading express the range of human emotions. Photographs integrated into her pictures introduce a documentary element that contrasts with the subjectivity of her perspective. A two-page spread portrays famous characters from the world of children’s books, in colors that are brighter and more vivid than scenes of anguish, or the busy pragmatism that characterized Lepman’s work. Lepman’s choice to sideline the unique suffering of Europe’s surviving Jews, and her own ties to that lost world, remain unaddressed in this biography. However, Paterson compellingly describes Lepman’s vision of literature as life-changing and restorative after the tragedies of the war. Her accomplishments, rooted in strong convictions and boundless energy, are also a testament to the power of books.
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.
