JBC is thrilled to wel­come Kate Schmi­er as our first ever Direc­tor of Pub­lish­ing Rela­tions. We chat­ted with Schmi­er about the Jew­ish books that have inspired her over the years and her pas­sion for Jew­ish Book Council’s mission. 

JBC Staff: Can you speak a bit about your career/​pro­fes­sion­al back­ground and where Jew­ish books and authors have had an influ­ence on your work? 

KS: I come from a fam­i­ly of sto­ry­tellers, espe­cial­ly my two strong, feisty Jew­ish grand­moth­ers whom I miss dear­ly. For me, writ­ing has always been a cre­ative out­let. My Jew­ish iden­ti­ty has often influ­enced my sto­ries – from the time my best friend and I decid­ed to write A Hanukkah Car­ol” in the third grade to my nov­el-in-progress loose­ly based on my own matri­archs. After study­ing cre­ative writ­ing at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan, I moved to New York City and land­ed my first edi­to­r­i­al job at Hearst Mag­a­zines. A cou­ple years lat­er, I real­ized I want­ed to use my writ­ing to sup­port caus­es I believed in, so I tran­si­tioned to the non­prof­it sec­tor. I held var­i­ous roles at phil­an­thropies (and most recent­ly, a mis­sion-dri­ven start­up), which allowed me to build a diverse skillset in strate­gic com­mu­ni­ca­tions, con­tent mar­ket­ing, part­ner­ships, and advocacy. 

Along the way, I kept writ­ing, both as a free­lance jour­nal­ist and as a fic­tion writer. I earned my MFA in fic­tion from Sarah Lawrence Col­lege, where I met fel­low writ­ers who have remained impor­tant parts of my cre­ative life to this day. In recent years, I’ve been grate­ful to form close rela­tion­ships with­in the Jew­ish writ­ing and pub­lish­ing com­mu­ni­ty, through my work for Lilith, Paper Brigade, and oth­er out­lets. I couldn’t be more thrilled to step into this excit­ing new role, which will enable me to com­bine my pro­fes­sion­al back­ground with my pas­sion for Jew­ish books and storytelling. 

JBC Staff: Can you speak on when you first learned about Jew­ish Book Coun­cil and our work? What excit­ed you about our mission? 

KS: I first got acquaint­ed with Jew­ish Book Coun­cil when I dis­cov­ered its lit­er­ary jour­nal Paper Brigade. I was par­tic­u­lar­ly struck by the short sto­ry Into the Mud” by Dutch Israeli author Yael van der Wood­en, whose debut nov­el, The Safe­keep, went on to gar­ner sig­nif­i­cant acco­lades, includ­ing a Nation­al Jew­ish Book Award. After a few attempts at pub­lish­ing my own fic­tion in the mag­a­zine, I’ll nev­er for­get when Fic­tion Edi­tor Josh Rolnick’s email land­ed in my inbox, let­ting me know that my sto­ry, The Vir­gin Grand­moth­er,” had been accept­ed! Josh, as well as Edi­to­r­i­al Direc­tor Bec­ca Kan­tor and then Exec­u­tive Edi­tor Car­ol Kauf­man, took such won­der­ful care of my sto­ry – and I know their inci­sive edits made it that much stronger. Through the pub­li­ca­tion process and relat­ed events, I got to know the JBC team and wider com­mu­ni­ty of authors and sup­port­ers. This only increased my admi­ra­tion for the orga­ni­za­tion and its impor­tant mission.

Since then, I’ve remained involved as a read­er of fic­tion sub­mis­sions for Paper Brigade and as a reg­u­lar attendee at JBC author events and con­ven­ings. So, when I learned of this new role, I jumped at the oppor­tu­ni­ty to join the team in a more offi­cial capac­i­ty. At this com­plex moment, I believe JBC’s efforts to ele­vate Jew­ish sto­ries – and ensure they con­tin­ue to have a place in the pub­lish­ing world – have nev­er been more cru­cial. I look for­ward to part­ner­ing with the team and with lead­ers across the pub­lish­ing indus­try to advance this vital work.

I come from a fam­i­ly of sto­ry­tellers, espe­cial­ly my two strong, feisty Jew­ish grand­moth­ers whom I miss dear­ly. For me, writ­ing has always been a cre­ative outlet.

JBC Staff: Can you share some of your favorite Jew­ish books or authors? 

KS: I was for­tu­nate to study with the great Joan Sil­ber dur­ing my time at Sarah Lawrence Col­lege. I loved Joan’s most recent nov­els-in-sto­ries, Improve­ment, Secrets of Hap­pi­ness, and Mer­cy (which I got to review for Lilith). Joan has a sig­na­ture style in which a minor char­ac­ter in one sto­ry or chap­ter becomes the main char­ac­ter in the next – allow­ing her to take the read­er on a jour­ney across time, con­ti­nents, and lives. I great­ly admire her books’ expan­sive­ness and poignancy. 

Over the past few years, some of the most mem­o­rable Jew­ish books I’ve read were by debut authors. As I men­tioned, I loved Yael van der Wooden’s The Safe­keep, a gor­geous­ly writ­ten nov­el about two women liv­ing in the Dutch coun­try­side in the after­math of the Holo­caust. Anoth­er recent favorite was Zee­va Bukai’s first nov­el The Anato­my of Exile, a pow­er­ful por­trait of a Mizrahi family. 

I also adored the sto­ry col­lec­tion A Small Sac­ri­fice for An Enor­mous Hap­pi­ness by Jai Chakrabar­ti, anoth­er author whose work I got to know through JBC. Each sto­ry in the col­lec­tion is mas­ter­ful, but I par­tic­u­lar­ly enjoyed Search­ing for Eli­jah,” which explores themes of fam­i­ly and iden­ti­ty through the lens of an Indi­an wid­ow who falls in love with a Jew­ish man.

JBC Staff: Is there any book that has left a major mark on your life, or shaped you significantly?

KS: One book that had a pro­found impact on me was To the End of the Land by David Gross­man. I read it ear­ly into my rela­tion­ship with my Israeli hus­band, when I was seek­ing a more nuanced under­stand­ing of the place where he was from. In the nov­el, Ora, a moth­er whose son is sent back to the front dur­ing his mil­i­tary ser­vice, embarks on an epic hike through the Galilee – con­vinc­ing her­self that if she is not home to receive bad news, she can some­how pro­tect her child. Gross­man brought me into the mind of this com­plex, deeply human char­ac­ter, allow­ing me to feel her fierce love and antic­i­pa­to­ry grief. It remind­ed me of literature’s pow­er to plunge us into anoth­er person’s con­scious­ness – and it offered me a win­dow into a cul­ture I nev­er could have under­stood from head­lines alone.