Lansky felt compelled to preserve the language, and issued a public appeal for unwanted Yiddish books.

He received a very large number of responses and set out, with a team of volunteers, to retrieve and store the remaining Yiddish books.

Lansky did gather community members who shared his care for preserving Yiddish, and they would assist him in the collection and transfer of the books.

[6] In the early days of The Yiddish Book Center, the organization struggled financially, receiving very little monetary assistance from other Jewish institutions.

[7] Initially the center was housed in an old redbrick schoolhouse, in 1991 the town of Amherst reclaimed this building leaving the organization homeless.

[9] This was able to eventuate because the college's then-president Gregory Prince was interested in creating a cultural village on the campus, made up of non-profit organizations who would benefit from the location and in turn learning with their unique resources.

A dozen architecture firms were interviewed with no success, until finally Allen Moore was recommended for the project by a board member.

[11] The construction of this new building wound up costing $7 million and experts had informed Lansky and his associates that raising these funds would not be possible.

[15] Flood concludes that based on the book, he believes no one has done as much to ensure the survival of the Yiddish language and literature as Aaron Lansky has.

[16] University of Chicago linguistics professor Howard L. Aronson praised the book as well-written, entertaining and informative, also noting that it has tension akin to that of a suspense novel and unforgettable characters.

[30] Joshua B. Friedman describes the emotional impact that the Yiddish Book Center can have on its visitors, specifically through its practices of 'thin' numerical description.

[31] Friedman argues that the emphasis the book center places on numbers in its collection partially helps facilitate its ongoing appeal and wide array of donors and supporters.