I have been reading Jewish children’s picture books to kids for a decade-and-a-half, and I always know the book paints a real picture of Jewish peoplehood if it prompts children to ask three questions: “Why are they (the characters) dressed like that?,” “What language are they speaking?,” and “Where is that place? I never heard of it.”
“A Turkish Rosh Hashanah” (Kalaniot Books, 2024), the latest picture book by Etan Basseri, happily leaves young readers no choice but to ask these questions, especially given that the characters are dressed in clothing that I have yet to see in any other Jewish children’s picture book.
If you don’t believe me, one of the main characters, a little boy named Rafael, wears a traditional Turkish fez on his head, a Turkish vest, puffy pants and those wonderful, pointy-toed slippers that every genie, from Barbara Eden to the animated genie in “Aladdin,” wears on its feet, as he and his cousins, Allegra and León, explore the crowded outdoor market in Istanbul harbor with their grandmother in the 1900s. For the record, those shoes had many names, including “sapatos” and “mest”.
I have read countless Jewish children’s books that were set in Eastern-European shtetls and featured everyone from lovable farmers to bakers. Imagine my delight in turning to the first page of “A Turkish Rosh Hashanah” and seeing illustrator Zeynep Özatalay’s vivid drawing of a harbor in the heart of Turkey, with a horizon filled with xebecs (Mediterranean sailing ships). Even a man in the rowboat is wearing a fez.
Basseri, whose last book, “A Persian Passover” (Kalaniot Books, 2022), helped readers understand some of the Passover traditions of Iran’s 2,700-year Jewish community, delights in exposing young minds to the sights, sounds and experiences of diverse Jewish communities. It’s no surprise that before young readers even have time to ask why the characters in “A Turkish Rosh Hashanah” are dressed as they are, they turn the page and may be inspired to ask what language the characters are speaking (for example, instead of wishing each other a “Shana Tova!,” the family heartily expresses wishes of the “Anyada buena!” in Ladino).
Those who read the book out loud to children may not only revel in describing the existence of a country named Turkey to little ears (cue the squeals), but in also hearing small voices attempt to pronounce “Istanbul.” The experience of reading the book aloud to children is what anyone would want from introducing kids to new Jewish communities, traditions and language through literature.
The story focuses on Rafael, Allegra and León, and their adventures while shopping for “yehi ratzones” in Ladino, or symbolic foods traditionally served during Sephardic Rosh Hashanah seders. These include leeks, fish, apples, beets, pumpkins, dates and of course, pomegranates. Nona, their all-knowing grandmother, offers them a few coins, instructs them to only buy pomegranates from “Senyor Benezra,” and sets them free to roam Istanbul’s outdoor market.
The children’s autonomy in being able to make shopping decisions by themselves in a large outdoor bazaar is not only historically accurate, but refreshing at a time today when most parents would not even feel safe leaving their kids alone in the next aisle at the supermarket.
In various exchanges with shopkeepers, we see how Jewish communities interacted with the larger population. We also see characters in the outdoor market come to life, including the animated Senyor Benezra, who is rumored to sing to his “agranadas” (pomegranates) in his stall.
We can almost taste the ruby-red arils of Senyor Benezra’s treasures as Basseri writes, “And picking up a fruit with a perfect crown, Senyor Benezra sang to his pomegranate queen: ‘Your face behind your veil gleams like a pomegranate,’ blowing her a sweet kiss.” Try to find that in another Jewish children’s picture book. Though anyone who hails from the East, and Turkey or the Middle East, in particular, has met one or two Senyor Benezras of their own.
Basseri, whose mother is Ashkenazi and whose father is Iranian (by way of Kermanshah), lives and works in Seattle as a product manager for a cyber security software product. “It’s definitely different from writing children’s books, but you’d be surprised how the storytelling skills transfer between both areas,” he told me. “Product management requires relating customer scenarios and challenges in concise, clear language for engineers to understand, often in the form of a little story. That same level of brevity and clarity is important when you need to tell a story in a 35-page children’s book.”
Basseri first visited Istanbul in 2018. “That experience brought Istanbul to life for me in such a way that just reading about it wouldn’t have been possible,” he said. When he married into his wife Sonya’s family nearly 20 years ago, he was “unaware that there was once a large Ladino-speaking Sephardic community in Turkey during the Ottoman Empire.”
And when it came time for Basseri to conceive the book, Seattle’s wonderful Sephardic community, including Turkish Jews, helped fill in the gaps. In fact, Basseri’s use of his local Turkish and Rhodian community, including his mother-in-law, Janet (Benezra) Jassen, and even the library at the Sephardic Bikur Holim synagogue in Seattle, offers a commendable example of how Jewish authors need their community to fill in the gaps, and how their community needs them to reflect their traditions and history to the world-at-large.
The synagogue’s founders immigrated from Tekirdağ, Turkey and the library there allowed Basseri to dig deep into titles such as “Foundations of Sephardic Spirituality: The Inner Life of Jews of the Ottoman Empire” by Seattle native Rabbi Marc Angel, and “Sephardi Jews in the Ottoman Empire: Aspects of Material Culture.” Basseri’s research and discussions with community members helped him “delve into details of daily life, lifecycle events, clothing and Judaica of the old country.” At one point, Ty Alhadeff, a Seattle-based expert in Sephardic studies, pointed Basseri to an example of an actual Ottoman-era hanukiah from Turkey. “It added to the authenticity of the layout in one of the interior scenes,” said Basseri.
Lili Rosenstreich, Basseri’s editor at Kalaniot Books, found illustrator Zeynep Özatalay on Instagram. “When we saw her work samples from her Instagram posts we both immediately wanted her for the project,” said Basseri. Özatalay lives on an island in Istanbul and incorporates animals she lives with, including horses, cats, and seagulls, into the book.
Özatalay’s luscious illustrations truly pay tribute to the richness of Turkish Jewish life, right down to the last detail of the print on the Ottoman rug to the intricate patterns on Nona’s Rosh Hashanah garb.
“A Turkish Rosh Hashanah” will offer a vibrant addition to any Jewish home or school library. Readers will see that along the way, Rafael, Allegra and León face several hurdles as they navigate the crowded bazaar filled with special characters. But like any good resolution to a Jewish story, their adventure ends with loving family, ancient traditions and warm, delectable food.
Q&A with Etan Basseri
Jewish Journal: Is any part of “A Turkish Rosh Hashanah” based on real-life events?
Etan Basseri: The character of Senyor Benezra was based on two real-life men: My wife Sonya’s great-grandfather, Leon Benezra, immigrated from Izmir, Turkey around the year 1900 and had a produce stall with his wife Perla in Seattle’s Pike Place Market for many years. And when I was in Israel several years ago, I interviewed the famous Uzi-Eli Hez, the “Etrog Man” of Jerusalem’s Mahane Yehuda market, whose kindness as a natural healer made a big impression on me. The character of Allegra is based on my daughter’s actual fear of cats, although these days, at age eight, she has largely overcome that fear!
JJ: How does your work help to fill in the gaps that are missing in Jewish children’s picture books with regard to Sephardic and Mizrachi stories?
EB: Sephardic kids need to see themselves in the stories about Jewish life; it’s a source of inspiration and pride. Non-Sephardic kids need to learn about communities different from their own so they can better appreciate the diverse mosaic that is the Jewish People. These days, there are more and more books that embrace a broader swathe of the Jewish world. Publishers like Kalaniot Books and programs like the Grinspoon-Samis Foundations’ Sephardic Stories Initiative are helping to accelerate this.
“Sephardic kids need to see themselves in the stories about Jewish life; it’s a source of inspiration and pride.”
JJ: How have your own children responded to the book?
EB: In addition to being immortalized as the main characters, they love it! They like how each character in the story has to overcome a personal challenge, and that there is a grandmother (“Nona”) character that binds them together. Seeing the “yehi ratzones” customs we do at home illustrated in a book is also fun for them. But I think their favorite part is counting the stray cats on each page of the book; there are quite a few roaming the streets of Istanbul!
Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her @tabbyrefael
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