Remembering Kate and Kathy: Two Passionate Youth Librarians Leave Behind a Lasting Legacy

For children’s book lovers, the world was infinitely glorious on Monday, January 26, 2009, as the winners of the American Library Association’s (ALA) awards were announced at the midwinter meeting in Denver. But two days later, a drunk driver slammed into a taxicab, killing two children’s librarians as they were on their way to the Denver International Airport, and suddenly our world was stopped cold.

I traveled to Washington, DC, for my first midwinter in January 2001, feeling very much a country cousin. One memory still stands out: I attended, at the invitation of a new friend, the Caldecott Committee’s introductory (and only public) meeting. A small, growly voiced woman wrapped in a fabulous multihued shawl confidently led the session, drawing her committee members into a cohesive unit even at that first gathering. I was one of only two people in the audience—a couple of chairs away sat a lovely, poised woman, who, like me, soaked in every word.

Photograph of Kate Courtesy of ALSC/ALA

As the years passed, I served on the Newbery Committee, Kathy served on the Sibert, and Kate served on the Board of the Association for Library Service to Children (ALSC). Whenever we happened to find ourselves together, we’d have a good cackle about books—the most important thing, of course.

Kate inspired me to keep challenging myself, while Kathy’s collegial support gave me the confidence that I could, perhaps, succeed. Then one day in the fall of 2007 Kate said something that changed my life forever: “What about Karen’s job?” “Karen” was Karen Breen, editor of the children’s section of Kirkus Reviews, for whom Kate, Kathy, and I all reviewed. This suggestion wasn’t as outré as it sounds; Karen had been, according to her good friend Kate, “just dying to retire for months.”

“But, but, but…,” I protested. With one wave of her hand, Kate dismissed all my objections, while Kathy smiled and nodded encouragingly. Man proposes, Kate disposes, and when the dust cleared, I was installed as the new children’s editor of Kirkus Reviews in February of 2008. Karen was happily retired and—thank goodness—Kate and Kathy continued to review for us.

Kate, whose work with Eliza Dresang on the subject of radical change is well known, requested that she review picture books that exhibited “radical changes in form or content that connect them to the digital world.” Her favorite axe to grind? “Overblown, overlong fantasy (usually part of a trilogy) that drags in the middle.” Perhaps most telling was Kate’s unrelenting resentment of the cuts Kirkus made to the word counts in our reviews. “I rarely request fantasy since I rail against the inadequate word count, which seems only more inadequate for 500-page fantasies,” she wrote to me about the 175-word limit, “this sometimes drives me to SLJ.” That she received payment from Kirkus for her work made no difference to Kate’s sense of professional obligation toward the review at hand; she’d take more words over more bucks without thinking twice.

Kathy, while not as persnickety as her mentor, nevertheless had her own list of dislikes: “Doggerel; the word

Photograph of Kathy courtesy of Greenwich Time.

Working as Kathy’s editor was a joy from start to finish. She kindly noted her word count at the bottom of each review; she even suppressed her fondness for serial commas. But more than turning in clean, accurate, timely copy, she tackled each 175-word submission with a keen sense that it was in itself an art form, often adapting her own voice to the work at hand with uncanny precision, while making perfectly clear her rock-solid evaluation of the book.

Editing Kate, on the other hand, was downright terrifying at times. If she didn’t think a book I’d sent her was worthwhile, she’d say so (“I simply don’t have time to be reading stuff I can’t use”), which sometimes paralyzed me. But when I got up the nerve to send her a book I loved with all my heart and she responded with a star recommendation—well, that was some kind of validation.

Kate, who had officially “retired” from Perrot in 2007, had handpicked Kathy to succeed her, so her words at the time of Karen Breen’s retirement now take on a bittersweet resonance: “Those of us who are [able] to pick our own successors to carry on endeavors that we care about with passion and enthusiasm are the lucky ones. It means that we have happy expectations that the ventures we leave have a life of their own and will flourish in the best hands.” All of us who were touched by Kate and Kathy know that they would want us to “carry on” the endeavors they cared about. We in the children’s book world are busily picking ourselves up and getting back to the work of publishing the best children’s books, the work of putting those books into the hands of children, the work of ALSC (where Kate was slated to be its next president).

In Greenwich, there lives a small-business owner who grew up haunting the Perrot Memorial Library. He remembers Mrs. Mac, 71, who helped him with countless homework assignments and gave him a place to be when he needed one. He reads to his 18-month-old baby every night. In the same town, there also live children who are mourning the loss of Mrs. K., 54, who helped them with countless homework assignments and gave them a place to be when they needed one. They will grow up, many of these kids, to read to their own 18-month-olds every night.

The children’s book world has begun, grindingly, to spin again. It will soon pick up speed till hardly a hesitation is noticed. And it will do that, in large part, thanks to Kate McClelland and Kathy Krasniewicz.