(JTA) — Anna is a misunderstood sixth-grade girl who communicates with the ghosts of her Jewish ancestors. Teased by her classmates and worried-over by her family, she finds comfort and understanding with her Bubbe and her beloved Jewish traditions.

“Neshama,” Marcella Pixley’s lyrically written novel-in-verse, won the gold medal for Jewish children’s literature for middle-grade readers from the Association of Jewish Libraries. Its Sydney Taylor Book Awards were announced today in a virtual livecast from Chicago.

The award committee called Pixley’s “a lyrical, deeply Jewish story about identity, grief, and resilience.”

The annual award, named in memory of Sydney Taylor, the author of the “All-of-a-Kind Family” series, “recognizes books for children and teens that exemplify high literary standards while authentically portraying the Jewish experience,” according to the award committee’s announcement.

Other winners include “D.J. Rosenblum Becomes the G.O.A.T,” a coming-of-age mystery by Abby White, which won in the young adult category, and “Shabbat Shalom: Let’s Rest and Reset,” a lively board book written and illustrated by Suzy Ultman, which won the picture book award.

The Sydney Taylor committee named Uri Shulevitz, whose 2008 book “How I Learned Geography” drew on his boyhood experiences fleeing Poland after the Nazi invasion in 1939, as the winner of its Body-of-Work award. Shulevitz, a multi-award winning storyteller and illustrator, died last year.

In addition to the top winners, the Sydney Taylor committee named five silver medalists and nine notable titles of Jewish content.

“This year’s winners and honorees exemplify excellence in Jewish children’s literature through vibrant storytelling and rich perspectives that foster empathy, understanding, and a deep appreciation for culture and community,” said Melanie Koss, chair of the award committee.

Winners will receive their awards in June in Evanston, Illinois at the AJL’s annual conference.

In “D. J. Rosenblum Becomes the “G.O.A.T,” an about-to-be bat mitzah-age girl is determined to prove that her beloved cousin did not die by suicide. Abby White lightens the emotional subject with a teen’s authentic, humorous voice.

“She wrestles with her Torah portion and faith, finding strength to face loss and begin moving forward,” the committee noted.

“Shabbat Shalom” may be the first board book to garner the award, Heidi Rabinowitz, a long-time podcaster about Jewish children’s books, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

“The sophisticated board book combines succinct text with playful art,” the committee wrote in its release.

In awarding its Body-of-Work award to Shulevitz (1935-2025), who lived with his family in Israel before settling in New York, the committee recognized him as a “foundational voice in Jewish children’s literature.” His books “illuminate Jewish culture and reflect universal experience,” the committee wrote.

Many of Shulevitz’s titles reflect his Jewish roots, including “The Golem,” by Isaac Bashevis Singer and “The Travels of Benjamin of Tudela,” an illustrated travelogue for children based on the real-life voyages of the 12th-century Jewish traveler who visited Rome, Constantinople, Baghdad and Jerusalem. Shulevitz garnered the Caldecott medal, children’s literature’s top honor for illustrated books, for “The Fool of the World and the Flying Ship.”

Earlier, the AJL announced that Jessica Russak-Hoffman, a journalist for Jewish media outlets, won the organization’s new manuscript award for “How to Catch a Mermaid (When You’re Scared of the Sea),” a novel set in Israel for ages 8-13.

Last week, the AJL named Jason Diamond as the 2026 winner of its Jewish Fiction award for his novel, “Kaplan’s Plot.”

At Tuesday’s event, the Youth Media Awards hosted by the American Library Association, the winners were also announced for the Caldecott, Coretta Scott King, Newberry and Printz awards, among others. The Asian American Picture Book award went to “Many Things All At Once,” by Veera Hiranandani and illustrated by Nadia Alam, the story of a girl with a Jewish mother and a South Asian father.

The post Stories of ghosts, grief and Shabbat gladness win top prizes in Jewish children’s literature appeared first on The Forward.

(JTA) — I’ve never read a Holocaust chronicle quite like Lore Segal’s autobiographical 1964 novel, “Other People’s Houses.” Mordant, unsentimental and sometimes painfully honest, it’s the story of an Austrian girl sent to England on the Kindertransport, as well as a portrait of the artist as a young refugee.

More than one of her legions of admirers have noted that Segal, who died in 2024 at the age of 96, was only one year younger than Anne Frank, and grew up to become the kind of writer Anne too might have become had she not died in Bergen-Belsen.

Segal’s work, which includes decades of stories in The New Yorker as well as a delightful children’s book, “Tell Me a Mitzi,” is also remarkable in its humility. Segal was adamant that memory — especially of traumatic events like the Holocaust — cannot be a perfect repository of truth. It’s not that authors couldn’t be trusted, but that neither the writer nor the reader should take anything for granted.

That challenge is captured in the title of  a new exhibit mounted by the Leo Baeck Institute in New York: “And That’s True Too: The Life and Work of Lore Segal.” The title is a quote from “King Lear,” a favorite of Segal’s and a reminder to hold opposing truths in the same sentence, of resisting the false comfort of a single, final version.

“We tried to give you an insight into Laura’s ability to look at the world from many angles,” Karin Hanta, the exhibit’s curator, said at the exhibit’s opening on Thursday, just days before International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

At the event, actress Toni Kalem, who played Angie Bonpensiero on “The Sopranos,” read an excerpt from “Other People’s Houses.” Kalem, who met Segal years ago and discovered that their mothers shared the experience of the Kindertransport, spoke of Segal’s “unbridled curiosity” — a quality that runs through the display of photographs, manuscripts and family keepsakes.

Lore (pronounced “Laura”) Groszmann was born in Vienna in 1928; one month after the Nazi pogrom on Kristallnacht, she was sent to England and raised in a series of foster homes (her refugee parents would eventually arrive and find work as domestics). Later she would join her family in the Dominican Republic, and they eventually found refuge in Washington Heights, the Manhattan redoubt for German-speaking Jews. After she established herself as a writer, she became part of a circle of mostly Jewish writers in New York, including Cynthia Ozick, Vivan Gornick, Grace Paley, Norma Rosen and Gloria Goldreich. Her husband, book editor David Segal, was 40 when he died in 1970.

Hanta had hoped to write a biography of Segal, but when that project stalled, she pivoted. “With all the materials I had gathered,” she recalled at the opening, “why not stage an exhibition?”

The first iteration, mounted in Vienna’s Bezirksmuseum Josefstadt — located in the district where Segal grew up, and, as Hanta later discovered, near the hospital where she was born — drew thousands of visitors. The New York version, expanded and sharpened, shifts the focus westward, tracing Segal’s journey from prewar Vienna to Manhattan, where she lived for decades, taught generations of writers, and, according to the New York Times, came “closer than anyone to writing the Great American Novel.”

That novel, “Her First American,” appeared in 1985 and explored the uneasy intersection of race and Holocaust history through the relationship of a Jewish refugee and a Black intellectual. (LBI has scheduled an online event about Horace Cayton, Segal’s real-life lover and the inspiration for the novel.) “Other People’s Houses,” her first book, earned Segal a Guggenheim Fellowship, and her short-story collection “Shakespeare’s Kitchen” (2007) became a Pulitzer Prize finalist. All three books will be reissued in the spring of 2026 by the New Press, while Melville House is publishing a posthumous collection, “Still Talking.” Introduced by Gornick, it features the linked “Ladies’ Lunch” stories she wrote late in her career, about elderly Manhattan friends dealing frankly and often hilariously with the daily indignities of growing old.

The exhibit at the Center for Jewish History, where LBI catalogues the history and culture of German-speaking Jews, includes notebooks from Bedford College in London, where Segal studied after the war, filled with short stories entered into competitions. There are manuscripts marked and re-marked in a hand that never stopped revising. There are address books kept by her parents — one from England, one from the Dominican Republic — opened to pages that quietly testify to vanished worlds: cousins who hid behind kitchen curtains in France, friends who assumed false identities, children who never made it onto the trains.

One small object carries particular weight: a childhood friendship book, the sort in which relatives and friends inscribe poems and well-intentioned advice. Segal’s includes an entry from her first English foster mother, urging her to cherish friendship — advice that reads differently if you know, as Segal later wrote, that their relationship was fraught. Her father’s contribution, a drawing of a boy hiking in the mountains, echoes a story Segal drafted as a young woman about a prewar hike in the Alps with him. She revised that story at 90 and retitled it “Dandelion.” The New Yorker published it in 2019, 70 years after its first draft.

The exhibition is accompanied by a season of in-person and virtual programs, and Hanta has her own wish list of commemorative projects: She hopes that a park in Vienna where Segal played as a child might be renamed in her honor; that the exhibition might travel; that “Other People’s Houses” might be distributed free in Austria in 2028, the centenary of Segal’s birth and the 90th anniversary of the Kindertransport.

On opening night, before reading from “Other People’s Houses,” Kalem paused to apologize for the necessary cuts she made. “As you know, all her life, Lore was a master of meticulously crafting and scrupulously revising her work,” said Kalem. “So it feels like literary malfeasance on my part to attempt to edit a word of Lore’s story. It feels akin to cutting Shakespeare by shortening Hamlet’s soliloquy…. So Lore, I hope you understand and I hope you will forgive me.”

The exhibition also includes a video produced by Hanta and Segal’s grandson, Benny, which captures Segal late in life, still circling her subjects, still attentive to the elusiveness of truth. At the opening, Segal’s son Jacob spoke of his mother’s ambition and her modesty, her seriousness about art and her refusal to be undone by success or disappointment.

“She always made the world larger,” he said. “It’s smaller now.”

“And That’s True Too: The Life and Work of Lore Segal” runs through April 15 at the Center for Jewish History, 15 W. 16th St., New York, New York.

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Israelis went into this week preparing for the possibility of yet more military confrontation. A United States aircraft carrier and other warships were moving toward the Middle East, giving the sense that an attack on Iran might be imminent. Tehran was warning that any strike would be answered with missiles, and that Israel would be implicated whether it participated in U.S. action, or not.

And then came a moment of true peace — perhaps the first since the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023. The last hostage came home.

Israelis have been holding their breath for nearly 28 months. With the return of the remains of Staff Sergeant Ran Gvili, they can finally stop.

Gvili’s tragic story is also almost uniquely heroic — and profoundly Israeli. Despite being in recovery for a fractured shoulder, the 24-year-old put on his uniform on the morning of Oct. 7, when news of the Hamas attack broke, and rushed south. He helped rescue civilians fleeing the Nova music festival. He fought at Kibbutz Alumim.

Then, wounded and surrounded, he was overpowered and murdered. His body was taken to Gaza.

Gvili embodied the most demanding and meaningful quality of Israeli citizenship: obligation. He went in first. He came out last.

The return of his body, which was reportedly discovered in a north Gaza cemetery, resolved one of the two war aims Israel set for itself in the aftermath of Oct.7 catastrophe: to bring every hostage home. It is a milestone worth celebrating. There has been something deeply revealing in how Israelis have spoken about the return of the remains of the last hostages: a refusal to accept that death dissolves social ties. A declaration that dignity does not end when life does.

This is a society obsessed with survival, but not indifferent to honor and human dignity.

Unfortunately, the other aim, the destruction of Hamas, remains disturbingly unfulfilled.

The hostage issue fostered a certain moral unity in Israel. The country was divided over everything else: the conduct of the war, the devastation in Gaza, the government’s competence, the international backlash, the collapse of trust after the judicial overhaul crisis.

But on the hostages there was something closer to consensus. For most, they were family.

Every Saturday night, hostage families gathered in the plaza outside the Tel Aviv Museum, which became known as Hostages Square. Joining them there — to protest in demand of the hostages’ return — became a ritual. My wife went there weekly, along with many thousands of others. For most Israelis, closely following the hostage talks — the rumors and leaks, partial releases and collapses — became part of daily life.

This meant that as the government continued to pursue the Gaza war, the hostages became a massive liability for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his cabinet. Long before military stalemate set in, by mid-2024, polls showed overwhelming support for a deal that would end the fighting after Hamas had been badly degraded in exchange for the return of all hostages.

The government did not listen. Hard-liners in the coalition, who controlled its fate, wanted the war to go on indefinitely. They even wanted Gazans forcibly expelled and the territory settled by Jews. Netanyahu basically had to have his arm twisted by President Donald Trump to strike a ceasefire deal in September.

In part because of that delay, today, virtually every poll suggests that forthcoming elections will produce a crushing defeat for Netanyahu’s coalition. Netanyahu rushed to the cameras Monday to declare Gvili’s return a great success, but my sense is that few Israelis are inclined to grant him credit. The state has completed an obligation, but the government has not redeemed itself.

That sense may have implications on the ground in Gaza, in the quest to rid the strip of Hamas once and for all.

The argument that movement toward a second phase of the Gaza framework must wait until the final hostage is returned is gone. The most likely first step is a partial reopening of the Rafah crossing into Egypt, which is as significant to Gazans as the hostage issue was to Israelis. If, as Israeli and American officials have suggested, that reopening moves forward, it will mean an end to the brutal, suffocating total siege of the strip. Coming days will see talks on who and what can get through, who has a role in checking for smuggling, and what limitations might be applied.

They will also see an intensification of discussion on the other main condition for moving forward: the disarmament of Hamas, which still controls large parts of Gaza. The militant group still believes time is on its side; it imagines that by returning the hostages it has purchased survival.

One thing is for sure: In a week when missiles may yet fly, when Israel may yet face costs far beyond its control, something quietly monumental happened. The country exhaled. The last hostage came home. In an cynical era of promises routinely broken, this one in a way has finally been kept.

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