The Boy on the Wooden Box by Leon Leyson
I’ve been working in publishing for nearly three
years now, and I’ve been an avid reader since I worked out how to put those
funny squiggles called “letters” into words and sentences. People often ask me “what’s your favourite
book?” which to me is a ridiculous question – it’s like asking what is your
favourite memory, your favourite flavour, your favourite star in the sky. There are too many, and they are too
wonderful in different ways to rate on a simple scale of most to least brilliant.
Occasionally, and more frequently now that I work in the publishing industry, I will come across a book that connects with me in a profound and beautiful way. I treasure these books and these moments, and it’s one of the many reasons why I feel so truly fortunate to work with books and with people who love books.
Rarely, though, I will read a book that leaves me feeling as though I’ve had my breath knocked out of me. The Boy on the Wooden Box is such a book. Written for children aged 10-14, it is a brief (133-page) autobiography of Leon Leyson, a Jewish man who grew up in Poland during the rise and fall of the Nazi party. Along with many other Jews, he suffered horrific treatment at the hands of the Nazis, but unlike many he was fortunate enough to find himself and his family unexpectedly saved by a man named Oskar Schindler – the subject of the book Schindler’s Ark and the subsequent film Schindler’s List.
The details of Leyson’s childhood under the Nazis are absolutely shocking. Although I have read many stories of families torn apart and lives destroyed during World War II, reading it as told from a child’s point of view is particularly jarring. Nobody of any age should be made to suffer such inhuman treatment, but hearing it from a child’s mouth just makes it seem even more deplorable. The child narrator’s voice also has the interesting effect of making his saviour, Oskar Schindler, appear in quite a different light – the adult voice of Leyson interjects frequently to explain Oskar’s possible motivations and to elaborate on the many details he learned long after leaving Poland, but the child Leyson, though immeasurably appreciative of Schindler’s kindness, was ever wary of this man, who after all was outwardly a confirmed Nazi. The child’s voice also brings to the story a sense of plain speaking, of clarity that is at times chilling and discomforting in its honesty, yet makes the story incredibly powerful.
Of course this all begs the question of whether or not this book is indeed appropriate for the target audience of 10-14 year old children. After all, it describes some of the worst moments in human history; some absolutely traumatic and destructive events. It is so very tempting to shield children from this, to pick out bits and pieces of the story and to postpone the full truth “until they’re older”. But I disagree with this for two reasons. Firstly, that I believe reading is about telling the truth. And secondly, the overwhelming thought running through my mind as I was reading this book was “I want to make sure this never happens to anyone ever again”. I honestly believe that my ten-year-old self would have felt the same. Yes, the story is heavy and violent, but that’s the truth. And the real message within is one of inspiration, of courage against evil and of protecting life and humanity at any personal cost. That is a message I want all children to know and to believe in.
On an educational note, there are countless opportunities for class discussions and projects around this book. The most obvious are research projects on World War II, the Nazi party, Judaism, and conflict around the world today. There is also potential for interesting discussions about perspective; for example, Leyson mentions in his story that on his journey to America the conditions were what most people would consider less than ideal, but after the horrors of the labour camps he considered them very comfortable. Apart from being a remarkable, fascinating and haunting story, it is also engaging and thought-provoking for a young audience.
I feel that I could write pages upon pages about how
this book made me feel, and yet there seem to be few words that can accurately
describe it. The closest I can get is to
say that it reached right into my soul, made me feel sickened and terrified at
humanity’s capacity for depravity and hatred, and yet joyfully proud of how
brightly the lights of the good people shine in such darkness. It brought me to tears, filled me with love
and inspired me profoundly. This is an
immensely important story and I feel privileged that I have the power to help
bring it to my corner of the world.
This book will be available from today (21st August) - please support the Australian book industry and buy at your local bookstore, or if you would like to buy online, please consider an Australian online store such as Dymocks or Booktopia.
with love from the lit dancer
artemis
artemis
