Since many of the books she shepherded to publication broke new ground, Nordstrom is considered one of the most influential children’s book editors of the 20th century. Earlier children’s books tended to be instructive and bland—morality tales that featured idealized, one-dimensional children. Nordstrom shunned those predictable formulas. She looked for stories about real children and messy childhoods; she knew kids would want to read about flawed humans, not perfect ones. Even the fantasy-heavy stories she edited, such as Harold and the Purple Crayon, contain realistic characters and experiences, and emotional truths integrated with wild imagination. Self-deprecating, blunt, and a terrible speller, Nordstrom was always searching for new talent. When she found promising writers or illustrators, she was attentive and nurturing; when they slipped up, she pestered them with affection and humor. In 1947, she wrote to the Newbery award-winning author Meindert DeJong: “It will be good to see you and talk over your doubts and qualms and maybe shout and swear at you. My belief that you are on the verge of doing your best book is NOT due to wishful thinking.” Nordstrom’s wit pervades Dear Genius: The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom, by Leonard Marcus, the children’s literature scholar. To author Mary Stolz, Nordstrom admonished: “Please stay after school and write 500 times, ‘I promise always to make a carbon copy of all my manuscripts in the future.’” Shel Silverstein was just beginning to work on Where
the Sidewalk Ends when Nordstrom wrote to him: “I have missed you a lot. You are one of my favorite people and you are a rotten no-goodnik to disappear for such long periods of time. Not even a postcard, you rat. It is great news that the poems are turning out to be so warm and good and generally great.” Children’s book publishing did not emerge as its own field until after World War I, when “tot” departments flourished in publishing houses, headed by educated women. This was considered an appropriate female career path, much like missionary work or teaching. In the male-dominated publishing industry, children’s books were considered less significant than adult books—a reason to let women do the work. However, children’s literature as a commodity was an increasingly profitable venture, and Nordstrom had a knack for publishing books that sold well. When the male higher-ups at Harper offered her a promotion to work on adult books, Nordstrom adamantly refused. “I couldn’t possibly be interested in books for dead, dull, finished adults,” she said. Her preference was to publish “good books for bad children.” Nordstrom began her career at Harper & Brothers in 1931 as a college-textbook department clerk. In 1936, an appointment as assistant to the director of Harper’s Books for Boys and Girls launched her into the world of children’s literature, and four years later, she became director
Nordstrom looked for stories about real children and messy childhoods; she knew kids would want to read about flawed humans, not perfect ones.
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NMH Magazine