for those who are interested in the fundament of Jewish thought, its language, this book is a refreshed, an introducer, and a love story. If you grew up in a neighborhood whose mothers would respond to a nosebleed or and honor role with "Nu?" This is a wonderful book. I recommend it to all my childhood friends.

In the final chapter of this book, Aaron Lansky tells a story about his grandmother, but I’ve heard variations of it regarding many Jews of that generation. When she arrived on the shores of America, her brother, who had emigrated before her, met her at the dock. She was carrying one suitcase containing her most cherished possessions, including her Shabbos candlesticks. Her brother took the suitcase from her and threw it into the sea, as if to say, “You won’t be needing that here.” The cost of life in the New World was throwing away the Old.

But, Aaron Lansky continues, he grew up as an American. He was so secure in his place here, he wanted to plumb the depths to recover what previous generations had thrown away. As a baalas teshuva, a Jew raised secular who chose Orthodox practice, I can certainly relate. The difference is that I sought the depths in Torah. Aaron Lansky did it by rescuing and restoring Yiddish books.

Many in the Orthodox world would say that Yiddish literature Lansky sought to save deserved to be forever lost and forgotten. Authors such as Sholom Aleichem, Isaac Bashevis Singer, and I.L. Peretz were rebels against the Torah. The taste of their writing that this book will give you proves it. Their voices are distinctly and authentically Jewish, but that only goes to show that nobody can give a shtuch to the Jewish world like a Jew. (Translation: Nobody can stick it to the Jewish world like another Jew.) We’re seeing it now with the rise of OTD memoirs (memoirs by the formerly Orthodox.) Shulem Deen may be this generation’s Sholom Aleichem.

Well, call me unorthodox, but I’m still impressed by Aaron Lansky’s efforts. In the 1980’s, he collected Yiddish books from elderly, left-leaning Jews. In the 1990’s, after the fall of communism, he found even rarer books all over the former Soviet Union. And in the 2000’s, he began digitizing his massive collection so that scholars all over the world can access books once thought to be lost. Yes, in most cases, these are the voices of the rebels, but they, too, are a part of Jewish history. Consider n  The Zelmenyanersn by Moyshe Kulbak, a tragicomic novel about the fate of a Jewish family during Stalin’s collectivization of farms. It’s been translated into English, thanks to Aaron Lansky. Doesn’t it sound like a rich source of information?

Aaron Lansky spices up his story with portraits of the quirky but charming old Jews who donated their books. He also sprinkles in interesting Jewish tidbits. My two favorites are that Meir Kahane tutored Arlo Guthrie and his siblings in Hebrew when they were kids and that the precursor to Co-op City in the Bronx was a smaller bunch of cooperative apartments founded by union activist Jews in 1927. Co-op City, for those who don’t know, is one of the most successful affordable housing developments still in existence in New York. The current mayor ought to look to it as a model.

If you love Jewish history and are open to the contributions of all types of Jews, then you will find this book as heart-warming and informative as I did. As Aaron Lansky points out, what he has achieved is not all about nostalgia. We are of our own times. But history is always a part of who we are, and Jewish history has both rebels and traditionalists. Perhaps now that it’s the 21st century, we can finally learn to deal with our differences, unify, and usher in the Messianic age of world peace.

The subtitle of this book is: "The Amazing Adventures of a Man Who Rescued a Million Yiddish Books". Starts out a bit slow if but picks up with the determination of this young man to find, gather and save Yiddish books world wide. Defintely an interesting easy read and a fascinating account of how someone can take a project and make a really profound impact.

Like a knife in the chest, I read about the books buried in rubble, decaying into dust, drowning in the rain, the books that were censored and burned, destroyed, or forgotten. But with elation I also read about a man who understands the importance of books, and how he saved thousands and thousands of books from dumpsters, wrecking balls, attics and basements, describing another world along the way.

Lansky has been on a three decade long quest / journey / crusade / mission / treasure hunt that took him from New Bedford to New Jersey to Russia, to Canada to Africa to Cuba to Poland to South America, talking with a rapidly dying out generation, convincing men and women in their eighties and ninties, who, after wintessing a tumultuous century, need someone to perserve their written world before it was to be - often literally - thrown in the trash by childern and grandchildren who didn't know anything about the Old Country, and, being Americans, weren't interested. He recounts the numerous meals of every Kosher food under the sun he was forced to eat when bubbes and zadyes insisted that he couldn't possibly lift boxes of books on an empty stomach, telling him the stories of the personal libraries they were giving to him as well as their own life stories.

Lansky's experience is not just about Yiddish books - it's about all books, and how they have the power to remember and pass own the wisdom and world of people long after the writers are dust, and his story is not just about Jewish history - its about all history. Jewish/Yiddish books and people were never in a vacuum - they were an integral part of history: a book about a man amassing a library of Yiddish books also becomes a story about the Cuban Revolution, the spread of Marxism, the early efforts of American unions, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire, Woodie Guthrie's songs, Abbie Hoffman's writing, the fall of the USSR, Stalin, Hollywood, Broadway, the Catskills, leftists, rightists - Yiddish was a witness and recorder to it all.

For all that the story mourns the losses that assimilation brings, this story also proves that to know the story of Yiddish literature is to better understand the links between the Old World and the New World.

This is about death and birth - two sides of that crazy coin called life. Yes, a world has past where Yiddish was a part of everyday life - but there has been a birth of something new. As a member of my age group - those born in the 1980's - I take it for granted that any liberal arts college will offer at least one course on the Holocaust or Jewish studies at least once a semester and that I can walk into any reasonably sized bookstore and find books on Jewish studies, Holocaust studies, Jewish Feminism studies, Israel politics, Yiddish / English dictionaries, Jewish cookbooks, and the occasional copy of Hamlet translated into Yiddish; Lansky describes going to college in the 1970's, and it was a shock to read that he attended the first ever course on the Holocaust, and that a Yiddish / English dictionary was as rare as hen's teeth. He describes the beginning of Jewish studies as something besides the religion itself, and how Yiddish is a fundamental part of that.

Basically, I cannot praise this book enough and everyone interested in books, in history, in why the past should be remembered, should read this book.

I happened to pick this book up at the library at random as I was waiting for my computer to complete its "install 1 of 1" which was taking forever. If I hadn't been sitting near the "books on books" section I never would have known about it. Really enjoyed this tale of a man and his friends who set out on a mission to rescue Yiddish books over the last 30 years or so. Wonderful stories of people who donated or helped collect books, rich with humor but also realism and pragmatism, keeping all these folks as very real people and not as "picturesques." The tone is affectionate from someone who has found real joy in what he does. But it turned much more serious as the Yiddish Book Center went into the Soviet Union to try to replenish Yiddish libraries lost through years of repression. For it is important to note that the main objective of this organization is not to "collect" but to "provide" by supplying books where needed and digitizing for public use as well as supporting in general the continuation of the Yiddish language. My one quibble is that there were more typographical errors in the book than there should have been. But it was interesting and well-written and made me wish (not for the first time) that my own language skills would allow me to break out of the bounds of English.

I am so glad I read this book. The author, Aaron Lansky, really impressed me when something that was going to be a short term project turned into his life's work. And, the work he (and his cohorts) did! I loved all the stories and the history. Great read if you like history!

Never a book I would have picked up on my own, which is a shame, because it's deeply engaging, fabulously entertaining and, unexpectedly, quite moving. Lansky has a great narrative voice and is a terrifically sympathetic "protagonist" to follow through this story, which is full of compassion, back-breaking schedules and a parade of old Jews who are watching their world vanish before our very eyes.

It's hard to summarize this one without wanting to simply shove the book at anyone who's literate and beg them to read it. On my part, it opened up a lot about Jewishness for me, and I say this as someone who's not and never has been particularly religious. One point the author makes is his hesitation regarding "the Borscht Belt," the Catskills region "that turned Yiddish into a punchline." If nothing else, this book really gave Yiddish and the Yiddish-speaking world a dignity I hadn't begun to grasp, even after hearing stories of such relatives my whole life.

Jews and non-Jews should absolutely read this book. I really did laugh and cry and miss train stops because of it.

My sister gave me this book for my birthday (back in June; I'm not so good at this Good Reads thing...). Aaron Lansky treks around the globe saving Yiddish books from being lost forever. Absolutely, spectacularly wonderful. Stories to make you cry. And motivation to make you envious/inspired/astounded. A must-read. I even recognized some (very little) of the Yiddish. What fun!

I absolutely loved this book. I am not Jewish, but you don't have to be to appreciate this book. It is a must-read for any bibliophile. Aaron Lansky stumbled onto the fact that Yiddish books were being destroyed and in danger of disappearing forever because of the death of half the world's Yiddish speakers in WWII and because of the loss of the language due to assimilation by younger generations.

At the time he started collecting (around 1980), it was estimated that there were only 70,000 Yiddish books left in the world. The National Yiddish Book Center that Lansky founded has to date collected over 1.5 million Yiddish books from around the world. This book is the wonderfully written story of how the Center came to be and his adventures in collecting these books and the stories of the people donating them. There were many funny stories but also ones that brought tears to my eyes.

This is one of those rare books that makes me want to grab people and say "You have to read this!"

I received this book for free from PJ Library. It's been sitting on my shelf for a while and I finally decided to give it a try. WOW! So glad I did. Loved it. A great read for any Jew, any book lover and especially Jewish book lovers!

FABULOUS and well-written story! A modern Jewish man who decides to start studying Yiddish finds that books are difficult to find. But then discovers that older Yiddish-speaking Jews are dying and books are being thrown out--so he decides to rescue them. All of them. A million and a half and counting! This was valuable for the history of Yiddish and European Jewry; it was a great story of how a small handful of people can end up making an enormous difference; AND it was so well-written and funny that it was a joy to read. Loved it!

When I talked about the book after I read it, people assumed the author was my friend. But I've never met him! It's just that his style of writing and the subject he explores bring me back to my roots, and I felt as though I was listening to an uncle, a cousin, a fond neighbor who knew me and my family from childhood.

I'm deeply impressed by Aaron Lansky's drive, his love of Yiddish and Yiddishkeit, his mission to save Yiddish books and a Jewish legacy. His writing style is forthright, conversational, and often witty. Though he talks throughout the book about the work he stumbled on, work that became his life, he is neither self-promoting nor unduly self-referential. (A brilliant Yiddishist I know disagrees, but that may be because she is unduly modest about her own accomplishments!)

The book made me want to learn Yiddish, to use more Yiddish in talking with my children and grandchildren, and to read more of our beloved Yiddish writers (especially the ones I already love: Peretz, Sholom Aleichem, Sholem Ash). Lansky has done much not just to save books but to save the prestige and dignity of Yiddish literature.