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Dear Genius: The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom

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She was cajoler, enabler, champion, critic, and friend. She was Ursula Nordstrom, Director of Harper's Department of Books for Boys and Girls from 1940 to 1973 - a one of-a-kind editor who took 20th century children's literature by the scruff of the neck and gave it a good shake.

Mentor to such luminaries as Maurice Sendak, Ruth Krauss, E. B. White, Shel Silverstein, and Garth Williams, she was a visionary who dared publish the antithesis of yesteryear's bland, sugary children's prose. Thanks to her discernment and determination youngsters found thrall in a myriad of now time-honored stories, including Charlotte's Web, Goodnight Moon, and Where The Wild Things Are.

Reading her collected letters titled Dear Genius (for she considered each of her authors and artists to be preternaturally gifted) is tantamount to having a lively, albeit too brief, one-on-one with the self-effacing, wry Ms. Nordstrom. You leave her presence reluctantly, knowing that such stimulating conversation is rare.

The only child of two beautiful people - "a gaslight-era matinee idol" and a pretty young actress, the editor would "forever regard herself as an ugly duckling born of swans." This lack of personal self-confidence didn't temper her considerable professional aplomb. When a doughty influential librarian challenged her by asking "what qualified her, a nonlibrarian, nonteacher, nonparent, and noncollege graduate to publish children's books," Ms. Nordstrom replied, "Well, I am a former child, and I haven't forgotten a thing."

Unmarried and childless, she nonetheless related companionably to youngsters, continually seeking to publish books that would make "any child feel warmed and attended to and considered." Belittlers of her choices were dismissed as "adults who sift their reactions to children's books through their own messy adult maladjustments."

Fearlessly confrontational in defense of her authors and artists, she was also psychological and practical support, shoring up a diffident young Sendak with, "You may not be Tolstoy, but Tolstoy wasn't Sendak, either." To Garth Williams, whom she feared financially strapped, she offered a monthly stipend.

A chatty, voluble correspondent Ms. Nordstrom's letters hold self-revelatory comments - a regard for Adlai Stevenson; an aversion to New York City - "a cement island;" and eclectic tastes: "Would Virginia Woolf be sickened to know that she is loved by one who also reads `Confidential'?"

Her notes are punctuated with an engaging, self-deprecating wit, as when she admitted, "....I may have tried to impress you at one time with the beauty and general poetry of my existence....That is balderdash, dear.....I am a real mess...I can walk onto a lovely green plot of land, and tall strong trees turn brown..."

These letters, penned between 1937 and 1982 are a chronicle of the highlights in the children's publishing world, as well as affirmation of the editor's devotion to her craft and colleagues.

Ursula Nordstrom left no immediate heirs when she died in 1982 - generation upon generation of delighted "warmed and attended to" children are her beneficiaries.

Ursula seemed to know EVERYBODY. While this book is a fascinating look at some of the "big name" writers of children's literature, I really was hoping for more biographical data to accompany the letters. It was a frustrating reading experience at times. Ursula seemed to be "treading on ice" when she wrote letters to E. B. White and Laura Ingalls Wilder, but totally free and breezy (and perhaps bordering on rude at times) when writing to other authors. I was puzzled from time to time at the complete changes in Ursula's tone . . . and I am more curious than ever about Louise Fitzhugh, writer of "Harriet The Spy." Something went wrong in Louise's life after writing "Harriet," but there are few clues in this book to explain what happened. Ursula apparently took some of her most interesting knowledge to the grave; I wish I knew more.

In "Dear Genius: The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom," biographer Leonard S. Marcus allows his subject to speak for herself. By doing so Marcus mirrors the woman he profiles and the symmetry between biographer and subject sets the dynamic tone for this book.

Nordstrom's editorial prowess is evident in the correspondence she carried on with her authors during a publishing career that spanned over 30 years. She provided gentle and insightful guidance to Maragret Wise Brown, Syd Hoff, Maurice Sendak, and E.B. White among many others.

Nordstrom's genius was that she recognized and fostered it in others. Her letters reveal her to be an editor who respected but didn't pander to her sometimes temperamental talent. She knew when to cajole, inspire or reprimand them; she was awed by their gifts without being infatuated by them. Nordstrom forged a bond of artistic integrity with her authors and illustrators that gave rise to some of the best voices to be found in children's literature between 1940-1973.

This is an insider's look at someone's life work and abiding passion - classic literature for children.

No matter how tastefully collected or carefully presented, no book of letters exists without offering its readers the forbidden thrill of dabbling in someone else's mail. All the better if that mail comes from a single amusing and informative source like legendary Harper children's editor Ursula Nordstrom, eh? I am young and untrained in the world of children's literature. As such, it seemed a very good idea to find out as much as I possibly could about the field. There are certain texts out there that are prerequisites to knowing ANYTHING about kiddie lit and the first and foremost amongst these is, "Dear Genius". Being a person far more used to a 150 page children's book than a 406 page tome of adult correspondence, I was tentative to begin. For those of you who are like me, I come to reassure you that as companions go, you couldn't ask for a better source of solace, bullying, and undeniably funny jokes than Nordstrom herself. From her discovery of Maurice Sendak to the betrayal of Meindert DeJong to her own children's book imprint, and finally an uncommon adulation by artists and authors everywhere.... well the book packs a wallop. Editor Leonard Marcus has taken the most delicate clippings and applied the most exquisite cuts to these letters. The result is a book that says a lot about what the relationship between children's authors and their editors used to be, and speaks brilliantly of Nordstrom's own innate abilities without becoming gossip-laden or tawdry.

The book spans a good 45 years, beginning when Ms. Nordstrom was a mere assistant to the director of Harper Books for Boys and Girls and ending after she has received the Curtis Benjamin Award. Between 1937 and 1982 we are treated to front row seats in the world of children's publishing. Nordstrom uses every conceivable weapon in her roster to coax, cajole, or threaten books out of her authors. She gives advice on a world of different topics. Sometimes that advice is well-taken. Other times the authors leave her offices in a huff and sell their books to other publishers. What makes the letters so gripping is that they are riddled equally with sound advice and intelligent reasoning as they are side-jokes, self-deprecating airs, and hints of a woman with a brilliant sense of what is and is not funny. The result is a delightful biography of a real leader and shaper of kiddie lit. The kind of person you'd be more than happy to hand your innocent children over to. In a word, a pip.

Nordstrom's librarian detractors would sometimes point out that as a children's editor, UN (as she liked to call herself) hadn't any education or library experience with kids. That may be so, but at the same time this was a woman who reacted with all the zeal of the most fervent librarian when confronted with the censorship of her book. When you talk of Ursula Nordstrom, you're talking about the woman who was responsible for giving the world teen books about homosexuality, older children's books on menstruation, and who fought long and hard against prudes in all their forms. Nordstrom is positively crackling when she encounters the stupidest of censors. My personal favorite was the Zondervan Book Store who refused to stock the book, "Good Luck Duck" because the words "good luck" appear in it and those imply that, "the authority of God was not full and complete". The letters in which UN laughs with friends over these moments of silliness are worth the price of the book alone.

As a children's librarian at the New York Public Library, I admit an unhealthy interest in the sections of "Dear Genius" that linger over UN's relationship with iconic NYPL head of children's services Anne Carroll Moore. Moore and UN butted heads more than a few times and Ms. Nordstrom is positively snarky on the subject of that particular librarian. As far as I can ascertain, the relationship between NYPL and Harper's was near to non-existent. Still, this is about as gossipy as the book gets. If you get your kicks reading about how John Steptoe (of "Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters" fame) would ignore Nordstrom's letters or how Mary Stoltz would return them unopened, the book will not disappoint. But Marcus doesn't linger on UN's personal affairs. We know something of her childhood and we know her political bent (she provides an endlessly interesting source of political banter from Eisenhower to Reagan). Yet if Nordstrom obliquely complains to a friend about an author who's first book was so much better than their second or who is being a pain in the patoot, Marcus has the good sense not to furnish us with this details unless they crop up later in the book as well. I know one thing for sure. If Meindert DeJong comes walking up to me on the street and asks me for the time, it'll be all I can do not to growl unintelligible words (yes yes... I know he's dead. Calm down, people).

There's plenty here for those people fascinated with the history of their favorite children's books. Through "Dear Genius" we learn that Maurice Sendak was approached about illustrating Shel Silverstein's, "Where the Sidewalk Ends". It boggles the mind. We learn the real reason why Garth Williams illustrated the first two E.B. White books but not the third. We even find out the true origins of "Harriet the Spy" and what Louise Fitzhugh was really like as a person. Marcus has so carefully culled the wheat from the chaff letterwise that a reader is left with practically no objections to the book at all. Marcus has even managed to find a final letter to close out "Dear Genius" that gives the entire exercise a note of simultaneous comfort and finality. No easy job, I should think.

It's never a good idea to speculate over how the now deceased would think of changes to their beloved institutions. Looking at Harper Collins today, though, it's difficult not to think that Ms. Nordstrom would probably have a whole host of joys and sorrows. She would have adored the Lemony Snicket books and been a strong proponent of Kevin Henkes, don't you think? Maybe the tie-ins with the Olsen twins would have given her a shiver. It's fun to speculate, but impossible to know. What "Dear Genius" offers us is what she definitely did think and feel. And that, ladies and gentlemen, should be enough for even the most voracious lovers of children's literature.

A must read for any writer or lover of children's books, Dear Genius gives remarkable insight into the mind and career of Ursula Nordstrom, long-time director of Harper's children's literature department. Ursula poured her heart into many of her professional relationships, and her letters to authors, critics and fans are shrewd, witty, intelligent and sometimes sad--I didn't want it to end, but of course it had to, leaving me wanting more.

I am so glad Leonard Marcus researched the author Margaret Wise Brown, which led him to her editor, Ursula Nordstrom, which resulted in this collection of Nordstrom's letters. They're as hard to put down as the best novel...warm, chatty and, most importantly, insightful. The only thing that's missing is some of the back-story: What caused Nordstrom's falling-out with Meindert DeJong? Mary Stolz? Louise Fitzhugh? Nevertheless, a delightful look at arguably one of the most influential editors of this century and an important contribution to the understanding of literature for children.

Ursula Nordstrom may not be a household name, but the pantheon of children's books she had a hand in publishing surely contains some of the greatest literature for young people ever written. In her charming, funny, and insightful letters, we see a great mind at work, a skilled editor, confidant, and cultivator of talent, and a true risk-taker and innovator through a time of great change in the world of children's books. Some of the best letters are the ones she writes to children themselves who have questions or concerns about the books of her authors. She never ceases to see the value of their opinions, the wisdom in their reading of the work, and the beauty in their imaginations.

In addition to the letters themselves is Leonard Marcus' wonderful introductory essay and accompanying notes. He has been careful to provide context everywhere it's needed, and it makes reading the letters that much more enjoyable.

This book is a wonderful gift to anyone who writes or reads books for children. But it is also more - it is a how-to book of sorts of how to work with people to get their best out of them. If Ursula Nordstrom teaches us nothing it's that you must show love for the work and the creator, a shared sense of purpose, and an unending respect for the artist's process. Treat yourself or your friends to Dear Genius!

Anyone who writes or loves children's books should own this book of letters from Ursula Nordstrom, long-time editor at Harper Collins, to her authors. A fascinating "inside look" at her relationships with authors such as Ruth Krauss, Maurice Sendak, Lousie Fitzhugh, E. B. White (and many others), through witty, smart, personal communications. I love going back to this book, to reread or just browse - so inspiring!