One Hundred Years and Worlds Apart: The Enduring Power of 'All-of-a-Kind Family'

I was first introduced to Sydney Taylor’s All-of-a-Kind Family around the age of six by my mother, who had read (and loved) the books herself. I was an avid reader and, at any time, would read nearly anything I could get my hands on (in fact, rules had to be set so I didn't read too much, a parenting tactic that sounds counterintuitive, but I am sure many of my fellow Rising Voices Fellows also experienced).

When I first read All-of-a-Kind Family, I fell in love immediately. Its depiction of Jewish culture integrated into normal life, paired with the fact that it was centered around a family of girls, created a combination that made the book instantaneously captivating to me. My parents tried their best to expose me to all sorts of literature, including Jewish literature, but there weren't all that many chapter books with Jewish characters. The few that existed tended to barely touch on the character's Jewish identity … or be about the Holocaust. 

Though I didn't understand it at the time, I now realize the subliminal message that this sends: either Judaism takes a backseat to other, more important conflicts or aspects of a character's identity, or the whole story is about them being persecuted and, often, killed.

But All-of-a-Kind Family was different. Set in the Lower East Side around the turn of the century, it features an orthodox immigrant family with five daughters (and later on, a son). In the first book, the children Ella, Henny, Sarah, Charlotte, and Gertie are twelve, ten, eight, six, and four years old, respectively. They go to synagogue, keep kosher, observe Shabbos, and celebrate holidays. But they are also ordinary girls with typical problems: lost library books, sibling quarrels, and chores. Their Judaism is important and celebrated; it is an important part of their identity without being their entire identity. 

The descriptions and mentions of Jewish holidays and customs captivated me; they were so similar and yet so unlike my own Jewish life. They celebrated the same holidays as me, went to synagogue just like me. But at their synagogue, all of the leaders were men. The men sat in the front, while the women and children were separated by a mechitza, relegated to the back.

Perhaps most surprising to me as a young child, nearly their entire community was Jewish. They had a few non-Jewish friends, a foreign concept to them—the same way that finding Jewish friends was a rare and exciting phenomenon to me as a child (and to this day). This representation is so important not only for Jewish children but for every child who has felt out of place due to their religion, culture, family, or any other part of their identity.

All-of-a-Kind Family is simultaneously incredibly feminist and incredibly…not. Taylor, writing in 1950 — the era of the American housewife and nuclear family — managed to create an almost entirely female family, centering on the girl's troubles, dreams, and lives. The older girls go to school, and Mama undeniably runs the household. Yet, she is also a stay-at-home mom — partly by choice, but partly because that was the expectation of the time. Well into the series, the reader finds out she gave up the dream of a singing career in favor of the more traditional pathway of marriage and motherhood. Papa is the sole breadwinner and official head of the household—it is he who goes to synagogue, he who says the prayers over Shabbat. But the girls are strong, independent, and capable. While Papa sometimes remarks that he wishes he had a son, it is clear that he loves all of his girls very much. The relationship between Mama and Papa is remarkably loving and healthy.

The girls in All-of-a-Kind Family are growing up both American and Jewish, two identities that are often difficult to hold simultaneously, even for children today. I was inspired by their joy and pride in both identities; they have as much fun celebrating Purim and Sukkot as they do the Fourth of July.

All-of-a-Kind Family also represents the immigrant experience of poverty, assimilation, and the American dream in a remarkably poignant way. The girls are first-generation immigrants; their parents were born in the so-called “old country.” There is a scene in which the children are making fun of the accent and mannerisms of a woman they meet, who has recently immigrated to the U.S. They are immediately scolded by their parents, reminded of their own fairly recent journey to America.

Like many other immigrants—especially Jewish immigrants on the Lower East Side—the family is very poor. Each of the girls has only a few outfits, and they all share a single room. They are given an allowance of one penny daily ($0.34 today), which, to them, is a luxury. Yet, despite this, they are able to make ends meet, raising their children in a better environment than the one they grew up in, in what one could say is the definition of the American dream. They work hard to bring a better life for the girls, prioritizing education while ensuring they do not leave their culture behind, a balance that I believe echoes through many immigrant families (including my own), even generations later. 

Reading and education are also priorities for the family. Sarah, the middle daughter, is a voracious reader, and the book opens with the girls going on their weekly, Friday afternoon library trip. As a young girl, I saw myself echoed in Sarah: always lost in a book, stubborn to a fault, and excellent at school. 

Ultimately, All-of-a-Kind Family is a heartwarming, surprisingly feminist story that is unexpectedly radical in its depictions of Judaism. It centers its characters' Jewish identities right alongside their American ones, normalizing them and educating readers about both.

While decidedly imperfect, All-of-a-Kind Family is a rare gem of a story that is able to capture the intersectionality of immigrant, Jewish, and feminist life remarkably well. It is imperative that more stories like this enter mainstream media and culture—because integrating Jewish culture into everyday life has immense benefits for both Jewish and non-Jewish children.