There has been a theft in my home.

The burglar showed remarkable insight and discretion by selecting only one highly prized possession to make off with, my copy of Anya and the Dragon. It’s as if they knew I loved that book so much I read it AFTER I had already listened to the audio book.

Why am I so passionate about Anya and the Dragon? It’s the kind of Book I never got to read when I was in Middle Grade. When I grew up the only age appropriate Jewish literature available to me was the collection in the school library. It mostly consisted of bland stories with formulaic plots that were vehicles to convey heavy handed moral messages. The closest thing to exciting I could get my hands on was The Golem of Prague.

Having finished all the Golem stories and being uninterested in the rest, I turned to the public library. There I found tales of magic and dragons and unicorns and spaceships. I adored them with my whole heart but my child-self understood intrinsically that they were not Jewish. That I could enjoy them, but writing one was forever out of my grasp. Because I was Jewish. I had to write the boring stuff in the school library.

Anya would not have approved.

From the minute I met her, as she struggled with a goat and her lack of magic in the books opening pages, I knew Anya was going places. She was Jewish, gutsy and full of wit. Plus she had a house spirit. The child version of me would have devoured her story. The adult me certainly did.

Let me be clear. Anya’s story is not a tale that lacks Jewish morals. In fact, as Anya struggles to protect the world’s last dragon she faces many ethical dilemmas and she approaches them with a Jewish lens. She also combats antisemitism. However, she does all this while on a rip roaring adventure. Rather than the book suffering for their presence, they enhance the plot.

So why didn’t I do anything to stop the thief and protect this wonderful book? Let me tell you a story of my own.

A few days prior to the criminal incident, I had the Anya and the Dragon audiobook playing out loud to entertain the gaggle of children that can always be found in a large multi-generational Jewish home. One of them slyly looked at me and asked “Is this author Jewish? Because I recognize a lot of this stuff. She’s talking about Shavuot!”

I answered in the affirmative and the kids face glowed. The next day I found that same child surrounded by a pile of papers all covered in large loopy handwriting. I was informed the kids were writing their own book. “Because, Jewish people can be authors.”

The kind of authors that you find in the public library.

The book was stolen by a Jewish day school librarian. She had no idea how much it meant to me but I guarantee I know how much it is going to mean to her students. I can’t wait to see the Jewish magic they create once Anya shows them that it is possible.

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