in all blogs
Viewing Blog: A Fuse #8 Production, Most Recent at Top
Results 26 - 50 of 5,279
About me: "Well, I work at the most succulent plum of children's branches in New York City. The Children's Center at 42nd Street not only exists in the main branch (the one with the big stone lions out front) but we've a colorful assortment of children's authors and illustrators that stop on by. I'm a lucky fish. By the way, my opinions are entirely my own and don't represent NYPL's in the least. Got blame? Gimme gimme gimme!"
Statistics for A Fuse #8 Production
Number of Readers that added this blog to their MyJacketFlap: 277
This summer I was walking about the Printer’s Row Book Festival in lovely Chicago, IL, passing a group of about twelve 16-year-old girls. All of whom were singing “Satisfied” from the musical Hamilton. It reminded me of similar past experiences walking by large groups of 8-year-olds singing Frozen two years ago. Now Hamilton is slated to open in Chicago in November and I’ve been putting together various booklists for my adult library patrons. And that’s when it hit me. I know 6-year-olds who have Hamilton memorized. I know 10-year-olds who can explain what the Federalist Papers are in minute detail. So why not make a booklist for the #Hamilkids as well?
But surely it had been done before and done well. To the internets! I did a quick search of anyone who might have put together a Hamilton booklist for kids before and lo and behold the site The Card Catalog did exactly that back in October of 2015. Their post Books for Kids Who Love Hamilton is good, but it occurred to me that since there are only four books there, it could be expanded a tad.
Today then, let’s look at some great books. How many books, you ask? A Hamil-TON!
I’m sorry . . . I don’t know what came over me.
To the list!
Alexander Hamilton (Picture Books)
Aaron and Alexander: The Most Famous Duel in American History by Don Brown
I wonder at the timing of this one. This book published in October of 2015, just as Hamilton: The Musical started to peak in popularity. Did Brown get the idea for the book prior to the musical’s creation? Was he already working on it and, when it became clear that this was A Very Big Deal did his publisher (Roaring Brook) encourage him to put all other projects on the backburner and get this one done faster? No idea. What I do know is that it’s one of the finer depictions of the duel and the events leading up to it in picture book form.
Colonial Voices: Hear Them Speak by Kay Winters, ill. Larry Day
While this book doesn’t speak about Hamilton directly to the best of my knowledge, if you’re looking for rhyming Colonial fare, you’ve come to the right place. It takes place on the day of the Boston Tea Party and is told through a variety of voices and professions in the city. It’s also one of those rare books to acknowledge and give voice to slaves in Boston at that time.
Duel! Burr and Hamilton’s Deadly War of Words by Dennis Brindell Fradin, illustrated by Larry Day
Out-of-print (Walker Books, you’ve got a gold mine here!) so better mosey on over to your nearest public library if you want to read it. A lot of hometown pride with this title, since both Fradin and Day were in the Evanston, IL area when this was written. Larry Day, by the way, is also the fellow who illustrated that Kay Winters book I mentioned earlier, so clearly he taps into Colonial America books better than most.
The Founding Fathers!: Those Horse-Ridin’, Fiddle-Playin’, Book-Readin’, Gun-Totin’ Gentlemen Who Started America by Jonah Winter, ill. Barry Blitt
Truthfully I couldn’t remember whether or not Hamilton was in this book, so I had to look it up. Turns out, he is! Like all the other guys here, he gets his own page with his “statistics” and notable qualities, baseball card style. My favorite quote? Alexander Hamilton’s “Stance on France: Not a fan.”
Alexander Hamilton (Older Readers)
Answering the Cry for Freedom: Stories of African Americans and the American Revolution by Gretchen Woelfle, ill. R. Gregory Christie
So long, Johnny Tremain. You had a good run, but the days of depicting Colonial America and the American Revolution as affecting only white colonists are long gone. Hamilton mentions slavery repeatedly and this book (which is out in October) goes further to follow thirteen black men and women alive during the war.
Alexander Hamilton: The Outsider by Jean Fritz
Back in the day (by which I mean the 80s and early 90s) if you wanted a picture book about a Founding Father, Fritz was your best bet. She was one-stop shopping in that respect. Still, she never did a book on Hamilton during that time. Then, in 2011 (which makes one suspect that she might be a bit on the clairvoyant side of things) she wrote this book for kids 10 and up. As extensive biographies for kids go, it’s almost the only game in town.
The Duel: The Parallel Lives of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr by Judith St. George
This one came out in 2009 and was written with a YA audience in mind. In this book you’ll see the similarities between Burr and Hamilton, over and over again. I was particularly interested in the part of the Kirkus review that said, “The author’s ability to lucidly explain the political intricacies of the time is impressive, revealing to readers that politics were as ugly, if not uglier, in the nation’s earliest days as they are now.” Oh, sweet Kirkus. Clearly you failed to fortell 2016.
Which is not to say there aren’t lots more books out there that would fit this topic. Be sure to also check out the similar young Hamil-fan blog posts Hamilton and the Children’s Library from ALSC (which contains more books about Hamilton’s close contemporaries like Washington) and Six Picture Books for #Hamilkids from NYPL (which has the additional bonus of books about hip-hop for young people). Also take a gander at the SLJ article Teaching with “Hamilton”, with a particular eye to the resources at the end.
And there are more books on the horizon! In a recent press release from Random House we learned the following:
“Schwartz & Wade Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, has announced plans to publish a picture book biography on the wife of Founding Father, Alexander Hamilton. Margaret McNamara will serve as the writer for Eliza: The Story of Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton.
Phillipa Soo, the actress who played Eliza Hamilton in the Broadway production of Hamilton: An American Musical, has agreed to write a foreword for this project. The release date has been set for Fall 2017. (Playbill)”
If you happen to be in NYC between now and December 31st, please be sure to stop by the main location of New York Public Library. They’ve an exhibit up right now called Alexander Hamilton: Striver, Statesman, Scoundrel. Lots of goodies are on display, including Alexander Hamilton’s Draft of President George Washington’s Farewell Address, August 10, 1796. Sounds fun!
By the way, those of you curious about the little felted Lin-Manuel Miranda at the beginning of this post, it’s by Jack and Holman Wang. You can get more info about it at the Chronicle Books post here.
And in conclusion, be so good as to check out Minh Lê’s tribute to Hamilton in Elephant & Piggie style.
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, children's literature exhibits
, Choose Your Own Adventure
, Daniel Kraus
, first day of school books
, Giselle Potter
, manuscript consultations
, Matt Bird
, New Magazine Alert
, Society of Illustrators
, The Secrets of Story
, Travis Jonker
, Wally Tripp
, Add a tag
A little nepotism to go with your coffee this morning? Don’t mind if I do! As you may know, my husband Matt Bird has a book coming out this spring that is a culmination of his blog’s breakdown of what makes a good story. Called The Secrets of Story: Innovative Tools for Perfecting Your Fiction and Captivating Readers (Writers’ Digest, 2017), Matt takes his Ultimate Story Checklist and makes it easy, accessible, and invaluable. I’ve mentioned all this before. What’s new is that he’s now doing something that I’m personally incapable of. Folks sometimes ask me if I ever do manuscript consultations. I don’t, but there’s a good reason for that: I’m lousy at them. Maybe not lousy, but I’m no editor and that’s the truth. Matt, however, is fantastic at them. Now he’s offering his services to folks who are interested. Children’s books, YA, scripts, adult novels, you name it. Dude’s got mad skills. And I say that as someone who can’t do the same.
All right. ‘Nuff of that. Let’s instead remember that the new school year is nearly upon us. My daughter is about to step out the door and start Kindergarten for the very first time. As such, I’ve been watching the new Kindergarten books of 2016 with a closer eye than usual. And as luck would have it, the Chicago Tribune came ah-calling recently. Check out my favorites of the season in their piece Bumper crop of first-day-of-school books.
AND THE WINNER of the 2016 Society of Illustrators Gold Medal for Original Art goes to . . . . b.b. cronin for his book The Lost House (Penguin Random House/ Viking Children’s Books). Hm? What’s that? You haven’t read it yet? Well let me confess something to you . . . neither had I! I’ve seen it in my To Be Read pile, but as God is my witness I thought it was a reprint of an older title. Now it looks like I’m going to have to move it up in the ranks. Whoops! See the winners in full right here.
Folks ask me, what do you miss the most about New York? It’s been a year since I left The Big Apple, my home of approximately 13 years. I miss a lot of things. My friends. That sense of satisfaction you get around 6 p.m. on a workday, just sitting in Bryant Park with a good book and an iced chai latte. And, of course, the exhibits in town. I just heard about the Pratt Manhattan Gallery’s The Picture Book Re-Imagined: The Children’s Book Legacy of Pratt Institute and the Bank Street College of Education. There’s even some ACM (Anne Carroll Moore) on show! Check out this explanation of the exhibit with photographs galore. Envious. So envious.
Childhood Mystery Solved: I’m pretty sure I’ve zeroed in on the location of Hitler. How’s that again? Well, here’s the thing. When I was a kid I was read a fair number of books. Some stuck in my cranium. Others didn’t. One that did was a book that I recall because it was a collection of poems and nursery rhymes. In one spread it showed the devil and some of his compatriots. Amongst them was a bird with the head of Adolf Hitler. I am not making this up. My mother would sometimes show it to me and explain who it was and why Hitler was bad (or at least that’s my memory). Years later I tracked down what I thought was the book (A Great Big Ugly Man Came Up and Tied His Horse to Me by Wally Tripp) only to find that while it did have a devil in it, there was no Hitler. It was a pretty weird thing to make up, though, so I never lost hope. Then, just the other day, I saw this:
Okay. It isn’t Hitler. But I remember this image perfectly (turns out gigantic Napoleons also have a way of sticking in your brain). I am now convinced that I have relocated the book with that weird Hitler bird. Maybe. In the meantime, I’m beginning to believe that Wally Tripp is one of the great forgotten gems of the American children’s literary world. He did win a Boston Globe-Horn Book Award, after all. That ain’t small potatoes. Read more about him here.
New Magazine Alert: And I owe Julie Danielson the credit for locating this one. Called Illustoria, a new periodical is said to be, “a magazine for children that embraces the same values as the current slow-food and maker-culture trends of today, ‘a return to craftsmanship, an appreciation of quality, a celebration of curiosity, creativity, and also the people behind the scenes’.” This sounds interesting in and of itself, but it also sounds familiar on some level. I’m reminded of the Arts & Craft movement that occurred in America and Europe between 1880 and 1910 as a direct response to the industrial revolution. We seem to be experiencing something similar in the face of the digital revolution. Food for thought. In any case, learn more about Illustoria here.
I like Booklist. Honest I do. But how long are they going to make us pay to read their articles online? For example, in a recent edition I was very taken with Daniel Kraus’s funny, smart, and highly informative consideration of the Choose Your Own Adventure phenomenon. In fact, I’ve never read such an interesting breakdown of the series, its popularity when I was a kid, and its fate. Here’s the link to the article, but I hope you have a Booklist subscription ’cause that’s the only way you’ll be able to read it.
Tiny desk contest! Not here, of course. There. Where Marc Tyler Nobleman hangs out. Seems he’s having a Guess the Kidlit Desk Contest. The rules are simple. You guess which author has which desk (and there are 18 in each subcontest). Get ’em right, win a prize. If nothing else, it’s a fascinating glimpse into the desk of the creative mind. Most are far too clean and tidy, though. I think I like this one the best:
Snapchat. It is a thing. I do not know much (read: anything) about. What I do know, though, is that Travis Jonker just used it for the best. thing. ever. Doubt me if you dare.
This just in, in the press release files from the Children’s Book Council:
We are thrilled to announce that acclaimed illustrator Christian Robinson has agreed to design the 2017 Children’s Book Week poster commemorating the 98th annual Children’s Book Week, to take place on May 1-7, 2017. Robinson is the artist behind such beloved picture books as Gaston by Kelly DiPucchio and Last Stop on Market Street by Matt de la Peña, for which he received a Coretta Scott King Illustrator Honor and a Caldecott Honor.
The representative from Illinois would like to raise an objection. Behold, a brilliant book:
In this book, kids are encouraged to make their own dollhouses out of cardboard boxes. There are even instructions placed under the dustjacket for that very purpose. As the mother of a girl who is basically a human Maker Station, I recognized instantly the fact that this would be her kind of book. I brought it home and I don’t think 20 minutes went by before she started construction on her own dollhouse. After it was finished (after a fashion) I went online to find out if the publisher or author had a site where kids cold post pictures of their personalized dollhouses. All I found was this promotional video. It’s cute, but why is the mom doing so much of the work? In any case, I would like to propose to either Giselle Potter or Schwartz & Wade that they create such a site. In lieu of that, here’s my 5-year-old’s newest dollhouse.
And, might I note, crumpled up toilet paper really does look like popcorn. Who knew?
I have a two-year-old son. He is very cute. He is also the most stereotypical boy reader I’ve ever encountered in my life. Trucks, trains, construction equipment, you name it. Unsurprisingly he’s also keen on community workers so every other day we read through Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks and Things That Go. Or, when we’re feeling a bit jaunty, we’ll reach for Everything Goes On Land by Brian Biggs. Combine that with his other relatively new obsession with the Brownie and Pearl books (also illustrated by Mr. Biggs) and you’ll understand that Chez Bird is The House That Biggs Built.
When I heard that Mr. Biggs had a new series coming out from Abrams called Tinyville Town, I was naturally curious. What’s interesting about the books and the series is that rather that conform to the usual Scarry model, the stories examine “the city” as a concept in and of itself. So we had a talk about it and the more he spoke about it, the more interesting it became. The end result is this interview. Bear in mind that this isn’t just about Brian’s work on the series. In the course of this interview he delves into some really interesting ideas about the influence of Italo Calvino, city planning, what Sesame Street did along these same lines, and what we mean when we say something is “timeless”. I urge you to pay particular attention to what he has to say about gender roles and picture books as well.
By the way, I usually do interviews where the interviewer (me) and the interviewee (in this case, Mr. Biggs) are represented solely by their initials. Today, for obvious reasons, that’s not going to work out.
Betsy Bird: I’m interested in how this series tackles the idea of “the city” as more than just one of those random places that people live. Historically, Americans mostly lived in the country. Now we mostly live in cities but books that convey how interconnected we all are to one another there aren’t all that common. So what was the impetus for starting this series in the first place? And what, if you’ll forgive me, makes it different from your average everyday Richard Scarry fare?
Brian Biggs: To be honest, the argument could be made that the impetus for Tinyville Town came from a blog-entry you wrote about Everything Goes back in 2011. That series was definitely about vehicles, but I think you were on to something when you wrote that the first book, Everything Goes On Land, was really about my love for cities. Three years later, when I was playing with the idea of a series of little books about people and their jobs, it occurred to me that this, too, was potentially an excuse to draw another city and explore the streets and buildings within.
I’d put it on the record that Italo Calvino is just as big an influence here as Richard Scarry, and that’s not something you can say for just any board-book for three-year-olds. I read Invisible Cities when I was living in Paris, in 1991, just after college, and the book adjusted the way I looked at these random places that people live, as you write. I could close one eye, and Paris was a chaotic mass of people moving about, with no order, no sense. I could look with the other eye, and it was a latticework of streets and alleys with recognizable patterns and clear intents of the designers. I could squint, and imagine the connections between people in my neighborhood, from the taxi drivers to the family that ran the Chinese restaurant below my building to the woman who operated the laundry across the street. I don’t want to get carried away here — Tinyville Town is not a philosophical prose poem on the nature of our existence. But when later that year I left Paris for the Fort Worth suburb of Euless, Texas, I was able to find these stories there as well. Euless and Paris are nothing alike, yet they are. People go to sleep there, and wake up there, and go to work there, and live their lives there.
When I was a kid, I watched a lot of Sesame Street. Sesame Street did a great a job of finding connections and figuring out how to make a Brooklyn city block relevant to this kid watching tv in Little Rock. That neighborhood sure looked different from my neighborhood. But what I identified with were the people who lived there and their relationships to one another. Bob and Maria and Gordon, and even Oscar and Ernie and Big Bird, interacted with one another in ways that I did and my parents did with neighbors, and the guy at the grocery store, and the mailman. It wasn’t lost on me that, years later in Texas, what Euless and Paris had in common were those same people living vastly different yet very similar lives.
So, Sesame Street is a show that teaches numbers and the alphabet, and entertains kids so their parents can get the laundry done. But it’s much more than that, isn’t it? By hanging these lessons on this setting and with these people, Sesame Street teaches us so much more. Yes, Tinyville Town began as a simple series of little books about people with jobs. A day in the life of a fire fighter, and a veterinarian, and a librarian, doing the things that these people do. And while it might be difficult to explore the nature of existence and sociology in 24 pages, I’m hoping that these influences and these roots give me a stage that’s a little bigger than what might be immediately visible, and a setting in which I might be able to do a little more than count to ten.
Betsy: You’ve done books that take broad concepts and then define them in simple terms that no one else has really thought of before. Your “Everything Goes” series, for example, was both broad and meticulous. Are you doing something similar here?
Brian: Oh, sure. At least, I hope so. The structure of the series is built on this very idea. The larger picture books in the series, “Tinyville Town Gets to Work” being the first, are about the town. How the people of Tinyville Town work together to get something done. These books are the “broad” you mention. The smaller board books are the “meticulous,” each telling the story of one citizen of Tinyville Town. Visually, Tinyville Town doesn’t fill the page the way that Everything Goes does. There aren’t the hidden details and birds with hats. The surprises reveal themselves more slowly and are more relevant to the stories of this town.
Betsy: I mentioned Scarry earlier, and I suspect that of all the classic children’s authors of the past he’s the one you get compared to the most. We’ve this feeling that he’s “timeless” in some way (though anyone who has ever eyeballed Ma Pig’s Jane Fonda-esque headband in Cars and Trucks and Things That Go would take issue with that statement). “Timeless” is a goal of a lot of authors. It’s a kind of key to perpetual publishing. Is that something you consciously think about when you make a series like this one or does it not concern you?
Brian: It does concern me, and I’ve had discussions with Traci, my editor, about ways to make Tinyville Town “timeless.” But I haven’t really worked out exactly what this means, or even whether it is a good idea or not.
For example, one of the first things I decided about this series was that there are no mobile phones in Tinyville Town. When we see a group of people standing at a bus stop waiting for the bus, they were going to be reading books and newspapers, not staring like zombies at their smart phones. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I saw someone waiting at a bus stop with a book, but there is just something about that scene that I could not bring myself to include. On the other hand, I think readers really like to see things like that they recognize. Early on, in the first Everything Goes book, I have a driver cutting through traffic, talking on his mobile phone. Kids often point this particular detail out. They know it’s something you’re not supposed to do, and they love it on the next page when we see the same driver pulled over by the police car, getting a ticket. Twenty years from now, will a reader know what the heck is going on there? Will we get pulled over in the future for talking to our robot helpers on our telepathic com-links while our automated flying Google cars get us from place to place? Will this scene render Everything Goes dated and dull?
When I was researching firefighters for Tinyville Town, I learned that firehouses aren’t built with sliding poles any more, for insurance reasons. And the firehouses that do have them, don’t use them. But when you talk to kids about fire stations, a pole is still among the first things they want to see. I gotta have that pole, even though it’s an anachronism. So, what is it that makes a book “timeless,” anyway? Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel was one of my favorite books when I was a kid. I had no idea what a steam shovel was, and that book was big-time dated when I read it in the 1970s. But I loved it. It’s timeless. Not because a steam shovel was still a relevant piece of cool construction technology, but because the theme of “new and improved” versus familiar and reliable, and the David and Goliath story buried in that book will always be relevant.
Betsy: So I did this post the other day about gender and how construction workers (and even their equipment) are shown to be both male and female or simply male. Some folks wrote in saying they’d never seen a female construction worker in all their livelong days. You, however, do give professions of every sort dual genders (I was always quite grateful for the female pilot in Everything Goes in the Air). How do you reconcile this with a real world that isn’t always as gender neutral as we’d like it to be?
Brian: I’m going to quote a friend here, who told me that “even if it isn’t seen, that doesn’t mean it’s right and it doesn’t mean things should stay that way. If kids can see it, it’s easier for them to imagine being it.” This friend recently became one of the few female electrical linemen in Philadelphia. A while back, when she saw some early sketches I’d posted for I’m a Firefighter, she pointedly asked me why there were no women working at the Tinyville Town fire station. I couldn’t believe I’d let this get by me. And I was so so happy she’d pointed it out. But did I ask myself how many women really are firefighters? Do I need to go by all the fire stations in Philadelphia to see how many women work there before I can include them in my book?
This ties in directly with the discussion about timelessness, doesn’t it? Ten years ago there was this big brouhaha when someone noticed that the Busytown books he was reading to his kids were different from the ones he had when he was growing up. At some point the publisher had redrawn many of the characters and even some complete scenes to reflect a more modern sensibilty. A father bunny rabbit had joined a mother bunny rabbit in the kitchen preparing dinner. The “pretty stewardess’” job description had changed to “flight attendant” and the “pilot” was no longer “handsome.” The mouse in the canoe was no longer wearing the potentially offensive and stereotypical feathered headdress, and a menorah had been added onto the holiday celebration. These changes came along right around the time I was reading Scarry’s books to my own kids, and as a responsible parent, I was pleased. There was a part of me, the sentimental child within, that wondered if I should be angry at this absurd kowtowing to political correctness, but do I want my daughter thinking that flight attendants are supposed to be pretty? Do I want my son to think that husbands are supposed to be waited on by their wives? These books aren’t supposed to be snapshots of a particular time. They’re not Little House on the Prairie.
Before 2008, one could set a tv show in the near-but-still-far-away future by having a U.S. President be African American, or female. It was maybe somewhat conceivable, but it hadn’t happened yet. Now, there’s a fairly good chance we’re going to elect a female president this year, which would mean that in 2020 there will be a generation of kids who don’t know how impossible this so recently seemed. To these kids, those 43 previous white guys are mere history. That’s just amazing to me.
People have never seen a female construction worker? They’re not paying attention.
Betsy: What’s the ultimate goal with this series?
Brian: Well, of course, the ultimate goal is to create an entertaining, satisfying series of books that kids like to read over and over again. I actually don’t think much about teaching lessons when writing these things, and I don’t think that reflecting the world I live in, or I want my kids and eventual grandkids to live in, is any sort of political agenda, and certainly not a hidden one.
I don’t expect Tinyville Town to be some kind of a catalyst for change. Really, I just want a kid to read I’m a Firefighter, make loud siren noises as the fire truck speeds through town, and cheer when the fire at the bakery is put out at the end. If she then goes to bed thinking “I want to be that,” well, that’s just gravy, isn’t it?
I want to thank Brian for taking quite a bit of time to put down these thoughts for us today. Tinyville Town Gets to Work hits shelves September 6th alongside the board books Tinyville Town: I’m a Veterinarian and Tinyville Town: I’m a Firefighter. And yes, in case you were wondering, there is a librarian on the horizon as well:
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, Best Books of 2016
, Reviews 2016
, 2016 middle grade fiction
, 2016 realistic fiction
, 2016 reviews
, diverse fiction
, Jason Reynolds
, middle grade fiction
, middle grade realistic fiction
, Simon and Schuster
, Add a tag
By Jason Reynolds
Atheneum (an imprint of Simon & Schuster)
On shelves August 30th
This is a generalization, but in my experience librarians really enjoy reading within their comfort zones. They’ll travel outside of them from time to time but always they return to the books that they like the most. Children’s librarians are just the same. The fantasy readers stick to fantasy. The realism fans go with realism. Graphic novel readers with comics. When I served on a yearly committee of librarians in New York I’d notice that some books were difficult to get anyone to read. Horse books, for example, just sat on our shelves untouched. Nonfiction could take some prodding. And as for sports books . . . forget about it. Nobody ever got near them. Still, you can’t give up on them. Mike Lupica and Tim Green may rule the field but that doesn’t mean other people don’t make a lot out of athletics. If our Newbery winning The Crossover by Kwame Alexander taught us anything, it was that. Now Jason Reynolds, a young adult author until this year, has produced a middle grade novel centered on that must unlikely of sports: track. It skirts the clichés. It dodges the usual pitfalls. It makes you care about a kid who keeps messing up over and over and over again. It’ll make you like sports books, even if you can’t generally stand them. And now we’ve got to find a way to get a lot of it into the hands of kids. Stat.
Call him Ghost. You can call him Castle Crenshaw if you want to (that’s technically his name) but he’s been calling himself Ghost ever since the night his dad got drunk and threatened Castle and his mom with a gun. Ghost learned to run that night and you might say he’s been running ever since. He’s got a load of anger inside that he doesn’t know how to deal with so he tends to take it out on others at school. Then one day he spots a track warm-up and takes an instant dislike to the albino kid in the expensive tracksuit. Without thinking about it twice Ghost beats the guy on the track, running on the outside, which gets the attention of the coach. Coach begs Ghost to join and Ghost reluctantly agrees but it isn’t what he expected. The other kids there all have their own lives, few of them easy. The running is much harder than anything Ghost has ever experienced before. And then there’s the fact that no matter how fast he is, Ghost can’t run away from trouble. It follows him and if he’s not careful it’s going to follow him right onto the track.
Baseball. Basketball. Even football. These are the sports of fiction. I doubt anyone has ever run any statistics on it, but if you were to gather together all the children’s sports books and group them by type, the baseball books would undoubtedly outweigh all the others 2:1. That’s because baseball is a game with a natural rise and fall to its action. Basketball has speed and football has brute force, all good things when writing a story. Track? In track you run and then you stop. At least that’s how I always looked at it. For Jason Reynolds, though, it’s different. He didn’t write this book with track as a single focus. He looks at what the sport boils down to. Basically, this is a book about running. Running from mistakes (forgive the cliché), from very real threats, for your life, and for your team. Why you run and where you run and how you run. And if that’s where you’re coming from, then track is a very good choice of a sport indeed.
On paper, this book looks like it’s the sort of story that’s all been done before. That’s where Reynolds’ writing comes in to play. First off, it’s worth noticing that Mr. Reynolds is blessed with a keen sense of humor. This comes to play not just in the text but also in little in-jokes here and there. Like the fact that one of the runners (that, I should mention, gets cut later in the book because his grades are slipping) is named Chris Myers. Christopher Myers is the son of Walter Dean Myers, and a friend to Jason Reynolds. I love Jason’s descriptions too. Mr. Charles at the corner store, “looks just like James Brown if James Brown were white. . .” Or Ghost saying later, “… for something to make you feel tough, you gotta be a little bit scared of it at first.” There are some pretty fantastic callbacks hidden in the story as well. Right at the start, almost like it’s some kind of superhero origin story, we hear how Ghost heard the gun go off that night he ran away from his home with his mom and “I felt like the loud shot made my legs move even faster.” That ties in beautifully with the starter pistol that goes off at the very very end of the book.
But maybe what I like the most about Jason Reynolds’ books is that he applies this keen sense of the complexity to his characters. I don’t think the man could write a straight one-dimensional villain to save his soul. Even his worst characters have these brief moments of humanity to them. In this case, Ghost’s dad is the worst character. You don’t get much worse than shooting at your wife and kid after all. Yet for all that, Ghost still can’t help but love the guy and eats sunflower seeds in his memory. Each character in the book has layers that you can peel away as the story progresses. Even Ghost, ESPECIALLY Ghost, who makes you want to yell and him and cheer for him, sometimes at the same time.
There’s been a monumental push for increased diversity in children’s literature in the last few years. Diversity can mean any number of things and it often focuses on race. In a weird way, increasing the number of racially diverse books on a given publisher’s release calendar isn’t hard if the publisher is dedicated to the notion. Far more difficult is figuring out how you increase the economic diversity. Middle grade characters are almost always middle class. If they’re working class then they tend to be historical. Contemporary lower income kids in realistic novels are almost unheard of. For example, how many books for children have you ever read with kids living in shelters? I’ve read just one, and I’m a children’s librarian. So I watched what Reynolds did here with great interest. Ghost isn’t destitute or anything but his single mom makes ends meet by working long hours at a hospital. Middle class kids are remarkably good at ignoring their own privilege while kids like Ghost become almost invisible. In the book, Ghost’s decision to initially race Lu isn’t solely based on how Lu struts around the track, thinking he’s the bee’s knees. It’s also on his clothes. “…Lu, was decked out in the flyest gear. Fresh Nike running shoes, and a full-body skintight suit . . . He wore a headband and a gold chain around his neck, and a diamond glinted in each ear.” Later Ghost makes a decision regarding a particularly fancy pair of running shoes. That’s an economic decision as well. Those are the most obvious examples, but the book is full of little mentions, peppered throughout, of where Ghost’s class comes in to things. It’s nice to see an author who gets that. We are often affected by forces outside our control, forces we don’t even necessarily notice, particularly when we’re children. If young readers see it, they’ll be reading between the lines, just like Reynolds wants them to.
Right at the beginning of the book, when Coach is trying to convince Ghost’s mom that he should be running, Ghost realizes that he’s in a situation that’s played out in loads of sports films. He thinks, “If this went like the movies, I was either going to score the game-winning touchdown (which is impossible in track) or . . . die.” Sometimes you can gauge how good a book is by how self-aware its characters are. But sometimes you just read a book, put it down, and think, “Man. That was good. That was really good.” This is a book that actually made me tear up, and there aren’t a lot of middle grade books that do that. I was rooting for Ghost hard, right until the end. I was caring about a sport that I’d never otherwise think about in a million years. And I was admiring it from start to finish for all that it accomplishes in its scant 180 pages. This is the book you hand to the kids who want something real and good and honest. There are a lot of Ghosts out there in the world. Hopefully some of them will discover themselves here. Run, don’t walk, to pick this book up.
On shelves August 30th.
Source: Galley sent from publisher for review.
Like This? Then Try:
So I’m sitting at the reader’s advisory desk today (it’s a small library so I do 2-4 hours a week) with a co-worker and we get to talking about nurseries. She has a friend who turned theirs into a paean to hunting. We’re talking arrow theme, faux bearskin rug, and antlers antlers antlers. This leads to a discussion of nurseries that are based on pop culture themes (for your daily shot of wonder/horror see the Buzzfeed post 20 DIY Pop Culture Themes For Your Baby’s Nursery).
My babies, for the record, did not have “themed nurseries”. My sense of design is so lacking that basically all I’ve ever done is slap some art into frames, stick ’em on the wall, and call that a job well done. Yet like a lot of non-crafty / non-designy folks, I have great respect for people who have an idea and see it through.
So what happens when people take nursery inspiration from different works of children’s literature? Behold the following!
Oh, take your pick. This is hardly a new idea. The article Parents Create ‘Harry Potter’ Nursey for Their Muggle-Born Little Wizard or 27 Ways to Create the Perfect Harry Potter Nursery will guide you in the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) direction.
For this one, you may need to know how to stencil. Stencil reeeeeally well. Seuss lends himself to the nursery setting, though. Check out the post Bryson’s Baby Seuss Nursery for an explanation on how it can be done. These images are just the tip of the iceberg.
Where the Wild Things Are
The ferns in picture #2 were a nice touch. I like how for Wild Things, the general feeling was that a mural was imperative. Only photo #3 thought to make Max’s tree filled room the mural for the baby’s room, though.
This one should have been easy. After all, it’s actually set in a nursery. But finding folks willing to work with that color scheme isn’t quite as easy as you might think. These were the only two GNM nurseries I was able to find.
Now here’s the secret to this post. Pretty much, just type in any famous children’s book and add the word “nursery” and you’ll find something online. Watch:
Type in “Giving Tree Nursery”:
Type in “Rainbow Fish Nursery”:
But why stop with picture books?
Type in “Hunger Games Nursery”:
Type in “Twilight Nursery”:
Now let’s get silly.
Type in “I Want My Hat Back Nursery”:
Type in “Winnie-the-Pooh Dr. Who Nursery”:
Shoot. I didn’t think that would work.
Type in “Struwwelpeter Nursery” . . . .
. . . .
. . . .
Whew! That was a close one.
Recently Slate decided to create a “pop-up blog” of sorts with a concentration on children’s literature. They’ve called it nightlight. A good name. We would have also accepted “flashlight under the sheets”. In any case, I was initially worried that this would be another case of writers who have just found themselves to be parents writing the same articles we’ve seen a million times before about the usual. And while their writers aren’t children’s literature experts, they’ve surprised me with the quality of their pieces. There was one defending Anne Carroll Moore in a very balanced manner, one on branded children’s books, and one on the rise of LGBTQ stories for families. Yet the one getting the most attention so far is We Don’t Only Need Diverse Books. We Need More Diverse Books Like the Snowy Day.
Professor Ebony Elizabeth Thomas was the person who raised some concerns about the piece in a series of posts the fell under the title Should *The Snowy Day* Be the Example for Diverse Children’s Books?
In the piece Ms. Thomas discusses something that’s always sort of struck me as difficult when we discuss the Keats classic. A classic that I should say I adore, mind you. But consider a situation I encountered about a year and a half ago. From December 10, 2014 through February 7, 2015, the Grolier Club hosted the exhibit One Hundred Books Famous in Children’s Literature. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Collectors from all over the country donated their most precious pieces, bringing together titles never seen together before (and probably never to be seen again). I was floored by some of the offerings. It was only as I looked through them that I began to get a nagging sensation that it was awfully awfully awfully white. In fact, the sole dark face I saw (aside from Uncle Remus on a cover) was Peter’s on The Snowy Day. Coward that I am, I didn’t bring this up at the time. Had I, I suspect the answer would have been similar to the justification given for the inclusion of Harry Potter. Mainly, that the exhibit was only covering “books famous”. And after all, how many diverse children’s books are overwhelmingly famous?
Well . . . quite a few, but let’s first consider why it is that The Snowy Day was included. It was a groundbreaking work during its day (and if you haven’t read the K.T. Horning story of its history or heard about Andrea Davis Pinkney’s upcoming and eerily lovely bio of Keats A Poem for Peter then do so now). Often I hear people say that it was the “first” picture book featuring a black protagonist on the cover. Or that it was the “first” picture book where the color of his skin was incidental. I am not a scholar in the field, but this sounds sketchy to me. Let us consider something else that Ebony Elizabeth wrote in that recent post:
“Where has the mainstream media covered Black authors & illustrators of books for children published in the 60s & 70s that are out of print?”
That got to me. She’s dead right. Because Keats was wonderful but he was by no means the only guy making books about African-Americans out there. A lot of Black authors and illustrators books were out there at the time (paging Langston Hughes). Consider the 2014 Walter Dean Myers article in the New York Times Where Are the People of Color in Children’s Books? Actually, no. Scratch that. Go back further. Look at the 1986 Walter Dean Myers article in the New York Times I Actually Thought We Would Revolutionize the Industry. He writes:
“By the end of the 60’s the publishing industry was talking seriously about the need for books for blacks. Publishers quickly signed up books on Africa, city living and black heroes. Most were written by white writers. In 1966 a group of concerned writers, teachers, editors, illustrators and parents formed what was to be called the Council on Interracial Books for Children. The council demanded that the publishing industry publish more material by black authors. The industry claimed that there were simply no black authors interested in writing for children. To counter this claim the council sponsored a contest, offering a prize of $500, for black writers. The response was overwhelming . . .
. . . In 1974 there were more than 900 children’s books in print on the black experience. This is a small number of books considering that more than 2,000 children’s books are published annually. But by 1984 this number was cut in half. For every 100 books published this year there will be one published on the black experience.”
Now let’s double back to Ebony Elizabeth’s question. I repeat, “Where has the mainstream media covered Black authors & illustrators of books for children published in the 60s & 70s that are out of print?”
Well, shoot. I’m mainstream media, right? And out-of-print titles are a delight to me. And yet I have never seriously considered just how many Black penned and illustrated children’s books have disappeared from the public consciousness.
Here’s something else I realized. There are publishers out there that reprint out-of-print titles. Folks like New York Review of Books and Phaidon and such. Yet even in the era of We Need Diverse Books, not a single publisher has ever created an imprint specifically designed to reprint classic and older multicultural children’s literature. Correct me if I’m wrong about this. I’d love to be wrong. But at this moment in time, I haven’t seen a publisher fully commit. Which is to say, there is a gap in the marketplace.
Today then, let’s conjure up a list. Since we began with The Snowy Day, let’s limit it today to picture books by and about African-Americans. I want you to tell me your favorite out-of-print titles. The stipulation is that they have to have been published by a major publisher, they have to feature Black characters, and they have to have been written and/or illustrated by someone African-American. To do this list properly I wish I still had access to New York Public Library’s lists of The Black Experience in Children’s Books dating back decades. In lieu of that, I’ll just start with my own personal favorites.
Here are the books that should be reprinted and reprinted right now.
Baby Says by John Steptoe
I’m beginning with the most egregious of the errors. There are a lot of out-of-print Steptoe books to choose from, but this is the one that’s the weirdest. I mean, Harper Collins itself basically acknowledged that this book was a classic when they included it in their Harper Collins Treasury of Picture Books Classics (<—see? In the title and everything!) That book contains everything from Goodnight Moon and Harold and the Purple Crayon to If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and, you guessed it, Baby Says. So I decided to do some checking. Are any of the other stories in this book out-of-print? Yes. One other – George Shrinks. Be that as it may be, I’d argue that Steptoe’s book is board book perfection. My son, who is two, specifically asks for the “baby book” in that collection and I have read it over and over and over again. So what exactly is going on here? Why is it out-of-print?
My Aunt Came Back by Pat Cummings
This one also makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in fury. A brilliant book. A fun, catchy, magnificent board book that’s so colorful and delightful that you’ll be happy to read it over and over again. So why exactly is it out of print? Again it’s a Harper Collins title. So, uh, hey, HC. You guys are big. You have a back catalog that’s immense and impressive. Why not start that out-of-print diverse imprint I was just talking about? You clearly have the stock.
The Everett Anderson book series
Had to do some research on this one. As it happens, Everett Anderson’s Goodbye is still in print, but all the other books in the series are long gone. Why? I used to get parents and teachers in my library asking for the other books in the series. Particularly One of the Problems of Everett Anderson which discusses the incredibly difficult topic of what to do when you’re a kid and one of your friends at school is being abused at home. And after all, if you can find another book that covers the same topic with half the skill, all power to you. Until then, reprint these books. Re-illustrate them even, if you like. I wouldn’t mind, as long as the text was available again.
Blast Off by Linda C. Cain and Susan Rosenbaum,
ill. Leo and Diane Dillon
I’ve written about this one before and admittedly I haven’t read it myself. However, it looks beautiful and features an African-American girl dreaming of becoming an astronaut.
This is just to start. Your turn now. Which titles would you add to this list? Tell me and I’ll do my best to add them.
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, Best Books of 2016
, Reviews 2016
, 2016 funny books
, 2016 funny picture books
, 2016 picture books
, 2016 reviews
, funny books
, funny picture books
, picture books
, Roaring Brook
, Vera Brosgol
, Add a tag
Leave Me Alone!
By Vera Brosgol
Roaring Brook Press (an imprint of Macmillan)
On shelves September 13th
Knitting. It shouldn’t be so hard. I say this as the grown daughter of a chronic knitterer (not a word). I grew up neck deep in roving. I know the difference between a gossip wheel and a walking wheel (these are different spinning wheels). I know that if you want a permanent non-toxic dye for wool you use Kool-aid, that wool straight from the sheep is incredibly oily, and that out there are people who have turned the fur of their dogs and cats into sweaters. Yet the simplest act of knitting is lost on a good 50% of the children’s book illustrators out there that year after year can’t even be bothered to figure out which way the knitting needles are supposed to go. Down, people. The ends go down. In 2016 alone we’ve seen books like Maggie McGillicuddy’s Eye for Trouble get it wrong. Fortunately 2016 has also seen correctly positioned needles in Cat Knit, Ned the Knitting Pirate, and the greatest knitting related picture book I’ve seen to date Leave Me Alone! A superb readaloud of unparalleled visual humor, this is a knitting picture book par excellence and a pretty darn good original folktale too, come to think of it. Allowing for the occasional alien, of course.
“Once there was an old woman. She lived in a small village in a small house . . . with a very big family.” And by big family we mean big extended family. One gets the feeling that all her grown kids just sort of dump their own children on her, because there are thirty small grandchildren running amok in her home. Winter is coming soon and the old woman is keen on getting some knitting done for her extended brood. Trouble is, knitting and small children do NOT mix. So she picks up her stuff and goes into the deep, dark forest. That’s where the bear family finds her. So she goes to the mountains. Where the goats find her. Next it’s the moon. Where curious aliens find her. That leaves a wormhole where the void turns out to be her saving. Only problem is, it’s lonely in the void. Once her work is done, she heads back and when she sees her grandkids again, she doesn’t have to say a single word.
Here is the crazy thing about this book: It’s Vera Brosgol’s first picture book. I say that this is crazy because this does not read like a debut. This reads like Brosgol has been churning out picture books for decades, honing her skill, until finally at long last she’s produced a true diamond. But no. Some people get all the talent apparently. This is not, I should not, Ms. Brosgol’s first book in general. Her graphic novel Anya’s Ghost got a fair amount of attention a couple of years ago, and it was good. But nothing about that title prepared me for Leave Me Alone! Here we have a pitch perfect combination of text and image. If you were to read this book to someone without mentioning the creator, I don’t think there’s a soul alive who wouldn’t assume that the author and illustrator are one and the same. This is due largely to the timing. Just open the book to the first page. Examine the old woman on that page. Turn the page. Now look how that same woman has been transposed to a new setting and her expression has changed accordingly. Basically this sold the book to me right from the start.
Funny picture books. For an author, creating a picture book that is funny means doing two things at once. You must appeal to both children and parents with your humor at the same time. Do you know how hard that is? Making something that a five-year-old thinks is funny that is also humorous to their parental unit is such a crazy balancing act that most picture book creators just fall on one side of the equation or the other. Make it funny only to adults and then you may as well just forget about the kids altogether (see: A Child’s First Book of Trump). Opt instead to only make it funny to kids and you doom the grown-ups to reading something they’d rather eat hot nails than read again (see: Walter the Farting Dog). But I honestly believe Brosgol has found the golden mean. Both adults and kids will find moments like the older sister stuffing a yarn ball in her brother’s mouth or the presence of the samovar (even in a wormhole) or the bear tentatively touching its nose after the old woman’s vigorous poke very funny indeed.
And let’s not downplay the writing here. There is serious readaloud potential with this book. I’ll level with you. In a given year you’ll see hundreds and hundreds of picture books published. Of these, a handful make for ideal readalouds. I’m not talking about books a parent can read to a child. I’m talking about books you can read to large groups, whether you’re a teacher, a librarian, or some poor parental schmuck who got roped into reading aloud to a group of fidgeting small fry. Few books are so good that anyone and everyone can enrapture an audience with them when read out loud. But Leave Me Alone! may be one of those rare few. Those beautiful butterflies. Those little jewels. The language mimics that of classic folktales, bandying about phrases like, “deep, dark forest”. And there are so many interactive possibilities. You could teach the kids how to yell out the phrase “Leave me alone!” all together at the same time, for example.
As for the art, it’s perfect. There’s a kind of Kate Beaton feel to it (particularly when babies or goats have full balls of yarn stuffed into their mouths). As I mentioned before, Brosgol knows which way knitting needles are supposed to lie, and better still she knows how to illustrate thirty different, and very realistically rendered sweaters, at the story’s end. There are also some clever moments that you’ll notice on a third or fourth read. For example, the very first time the woman yells, “Leave me alone!” she’s exiting the gates to her home and her children’s homes. The only people who hear her are her grown children, which means we don’t have to worry about small ears hearing such a caustic phrase from their grandma. Smart. And did you see that the twins get identical sweaters at the end of the book? Finally, there are the visual gags. The goats that surreptitiously followed the old woman to the moon, nibbling on a moon man’s scanner, for example.
I’ve seen a fair amount of hand wringing over the years over whether or not a children’s book can contain a protagonist that is not, in fact, a child, an animal, or an inanimate object rendered animate. Which is to say, are children capable of identifying with adults? More precisely, an adult who just wants to be alone for two seconds? The answer is swift and sure. Certainly they can. Particularly if the kid reading this book is an older sibling. The concept of being alone, of craving some time for one’s own self, is both familiar and foreign to a lot of kids. I’m reminded of the Frog & Toad story “Alone” from Days With Frog and Toad where Toad has a dark morning of the soul when he learns that Frog would like to have some alone time. Because of all of this, we see a lot of picture books where a character wants to be alone, has difficulty getting that “me time”, and eventually decides that companionship is the way to go (Octopus Alone, A Visitor for Bear, etc.). A few celebrate the idea (All Alone] by Kevin Henkes) but generally speaking parents use these books to convince their perhaps less than socially adept children that there are benefits to the concept of friendship. And there is a place in the world for such books. Fortunately there is also a place in the world for this book.
Folks sometimes talk to me about current trends in picture books. Sometimes they’re trying to figure out what the “next big thing” might be. But of course, the best picture books are the ones that at their core don’t really resemble anything but themselves. Leave Me Alone! isn’t typical. It reads aloud to big crowds of kids with great ease, lends itself to wonderful expressions, pops off the page, and will make anyone of any age laugh at some point. It’s a great book, and if I have to write another 500 words to convince you of it, I can do so. But why delay you from seeing it any longer? Go. Seek. Find. Read. Savor.
On shelves September 13th.
Like This? Then Try:
Source: Galley sent by publisher for review.
Misc: Cute promotion or THE CUTEST PROMOTION? As you can see from this Bustle interview, Ms. Brosgol knit twenty-five teeny tiny sweaters to promote this book. I steal the image for my own nefarious purposes and show it to you here:
Thusly is the deal. Since taking a job in Evanston, I’m not the big time reader I used to be. I just don’t devour the books as quickly as I once did, nor do I have access to a committee that would discuss a wide range of children’s literature. As such, I’ve decided that the only area where I can reasonably concentrate my efforts is on picture books. So every day at lunchtime I dutifully grab 5-7 picture books and read through them. Even at this rate, this is my To Be Read shelf:
Yet I’ve been lucky enough to see books that are so good that I just want to share them with you today. After all, not sharing their titles feels like hoarding to me. Here then are ALL the 2016 picture books that I think are truly extraordinary. Don’t see something you love? Just assume it’s in that To Be Read pile somewhere.
This list does not include reprints, board books, folktales, nonfiction, or easy books at this time.
Oh. And remember when I said I don’t envy this year’s Caldecott committee because we have WAY too many strong books? Here’s a taste of what I mean (though obviously these aren’t all eligible):
Some of the Best Picture Books of 2016 (Thus Far)
ABC: The Alphabet From the Sky by Benedikt Grob & Joey Lee
Yep. It’s an alphabet book based entirely on aerial photography. Crazy thing is, it works. And it’s exceedingly clever. Best of all, if you nitpick any of the chosen letters, they have alternatives in the back of the book. Oddly mesmerizing too.
The Airport Book by Lisa Brown
I already reviewed this one so no surprises here. Just nice to see the rest of the country catching up with my wuv.
Animals by Ingela P. Arrhenius
It’s French, can’t you tell? It’s also gigantic. Coming in at a whopping 13.4 x 18.1 inches it’ll be a nightmare for libraries and a boon to preschools and daycares everywhere. It’s also privy to exceedingly clever typography. When you get it, check out how the animals and their descriptive words match one another.
Armstrong by Torben Kuhlmann
For those of us enamored of Lindbergh, Kuhlmann’s follow-up couldn’t come fast enough. If you run any Calde-not contests this year, better include this one.
The Artist and Me by Shane Peacock, ill. Sophie Casson
It’s a Van Gogh book! It’s a bullying book! Well now you can have both. I don’t usually go for this kind of thing, but Peacock handles the subject of casual childhood cruelty with aplomb.
An Artist’s Alphabet by Norman Messenger
Again with the alphabet books. Still, you’ll almost never find one like this. Not only does it have animals, fruits, insects, and other natural phenomena in the shapes of the capital letters, but the lower-case as well. Plus it’s purdy.
The Bear and the Piano by David Litchfield
This one has a slow burn. You read it once and it’s good. Then you think about it for a long time and come back to it again and again and again. It’s about leaving home, seeing the world, and taking what you’ve learned back to the people who supported you in the beginning.
Before Morning by Joyce Sidman, ill. Beth Krommes
There’s a whiff of Caldecott around this one. It’s a very simple story of a girl who wishes her pilot mom could just stay home this once. Better not look at the cover. It’s a spoiler alert of what happens next.
Best Frints in the Whole Universe by Antoinette Portis
Because everybody could use more frints. That and the fact that it’s Portis and she really lets go and has fun with this one.
Best in Snow by April Pulley Sayre
Nope. We still don’t know what to do with Sayre’s photo picture books. Nonfiction or fiction? Poetry or picture books? The choices are infinite. The books are exquisite.
Big Bob, Little Bob by James Howe, ill. Laura Ellen Anderson
Further proof that you can write a book about rejecting gender stereotypes in a smart, new way. This is William’s Doll for a new generation. Little wonder it came from James Howe. Plus I love that it’s the girl in the book that does the reinforcing of stereotypes. In my experience that is often the case.
A Bike Like Sergio’s by Maribeth Boelts, ill. Noah Z. Jones
It used to be that picture books would confront the notion of economic disparity regularly. Not so these days though there are always exceptions to the rule. Boelts already won my love with her Happy Like Soccer. This continues the thread.
Billions of Bricks: A Counting Book About Building by Kurt Cyrus
Every. Single. Brick. Cyrus can account for every single one. It rhymes. It builds. It’s alluring to the construction obsessed and the not-so-construction obsessed. Two thumbs way way up over here.
Can I Eat That? by Joshua David Stein, ill. Julia Rothman
I probably shouldn’t confess this but I always look at Phaidon books with a bit of skepticism. When I get one I have to ask myself, “Is is artsy for grown-ups or fun for kids?” The answer to this book was, “Yes.” Everyone can find something to love here. It upsets expectations wildly. However, a friend rightly pointed out that it is DEFINITELY a book for a certain economic strata. FYI.
Can One Balloon Make an Elephant Fly? by Dan Richards, ill. Jeff Newman
I gave this book to my child’s preschool teacher and the woman went crazy for it. She just thinks it’s the cleverest thing this side of the sun. She isn’t wrong. Plus you get the extra added bonus of seeing more Jeff Newman art. I love that guy.
Christmas for Greta and Gracie by Yasmeen Ismail
If you know me then you know I’m not going to put a holiday book on this list unless it is truly extraordinary. Ismail, who has consistently done amazing work, really goes above and beyond with this one. Younger siblings everywhere will adore it.
City Shapes by Diana Murray, ill. Bryan Collier
I come to Collier with an open mind most of the time. I like his art but I don’t like it every time. Fortunately he’s in top notch form here. Nothing like a good old-fashioned concept book.
Come Home, Angus by Patrick Downes, ill. Boris Kulikov
Another one where I read it the first time and merely liked it. Came back to it later and was struck by the intelligence of the writing and, of course, Kulikov’s fabulous art.
Coyote Moon by Maria Gianferrari, ill. Bagram Ibatoulline
Yep. Reviewed it already. So glad that I did. Talk about a timely subject. Them coyotes is everywhere!
Creation by Cynthia Rylant
Not usually my kind of thing. I might normally eschew this kind of book as too artsy for my tastes. Yet reading it just now I was struck by the beauty of the thick thick paints. Pair it with Miracle Man for kicks.
Cricket Song by Anne Hunter
Despite the fact that it has a cute fox on the cover this is more of a look at time passing and distance than anything else. A truly lovely bedtime book.
Cry, Heart, But Never Break by Glenn Ringtved, ill. By Charlotte Pardi
Alternate Title: Every single country in the world talks about death in picture books better than America. Well, it’s true. And this may be the most sensitive of them this year. An import worth importing.
Don’t Call Me Grandma by Vaunda Micheaux Nelson, ill. Elizabeth Zunon
Shoot. I still adore this. I reviewed it here and I’d re-review it all over again if it meant getting you to notice it. Raise a questionable glass to spiky relatives everywhere!
Du Iz Tak? by Carson Ellis
Sometimes I wonder if I just like some books because I didn’t like others. I feel really quite guilty that I haven’t reviewed this one yet. Its made up language is so simple and so fun to read. The plot, such as it is, is easy to follow. I just adore it (though I do wonder if that stickbug died midway through the tale).
Dylan the Villain by K.G. Campbell
A great book, sure enough, but I’m giving it extra points for suggesting that super-villainy is genetic. Plus the antagonist is a girl with a purple eye-patch. Extra points for that one.
Elliot by Julie Pearson, ill. Manon Gauthier
Not everyone is going to agree with me on this one, and I accept that. Still, I feel that used in the right context, this book does something that no other book does. Confused? Read my review and all will be clear. Just don’t pick it up expected a cute fuzzy bunny story.
Every Color by Erin Eitter Kono
A polar bear searching for color? Haven’t we seen that plot before? Sorta. The difference is simply that this book does it better.
Excellent Ed by Stacy McAnulty, ill. Julia Sarcone‐Roach
They’ll sell this book to you based entirely on its casual diversity. That is a factor, but the storyline and writing and art are the additional standouts that give it a leg up.
Faraway Fox by Jolene Thompson, ill. Justin K. Thompson
As Travis pointed out earlier, 2016 is the year of the fox. Much of what I like about this title, aside from the art which is stellar, is the fact that it’s a book with a purpose above and beyond telling a good story. Fox family reunification makes for a good story too, though.
From Wolf to Woof!: The Story of Dogs by Hudson Talbott
Sometimes these books straddle the picture book and nonfiction line. But with its story of a boy bonding with a wolf (that shot of his hand on its head is worth the price of admission alone) I’d say it counts. Man does a good dog, too.
Have You Seen Elephant? by David Barrow
I love that kid’s expression. Like he really and truly has no clue where the pachyderm is looming.
Hill & Hole Are Best Friends by Kyle Mewburn, ill. Vasanti Unka
There’s an odd little melancholy to this book about being satisfied with your lot. The ending hints at what the future may hold without insisting upon it. It’s a book and a metaphor all at once.
How to Track a Truck by Jason Carter Eaton, ill. John Rocco
The book I didn’t even know I was waiting for until it arrived. Lots to love here. If you enjoyed How to Train a Train, then you won’t be disappointed. Rocco is in his element.
A Hungry Lion by Lucy Ruth Cummins
A show of hands. How many of you just assumed that this was a British import? Yep. Well, it isn’t. It does, however, have a lovely twist ending.
Ideas Are All Around by Philip Stead
Another one of those books that may or may not be for kids. In the end, the title of this book is about “Picture Books” and there is always the odd child that will become enamored of the title. It is pretty gorgeous.
It’s Not Easy Being Number Three by Drew Dernavich
Someone earlier this year asked me to list all the extraordinary math or number picture books out in 2016. The count was pitifully small. Fortunately, Dernavich is here to save the day. Trucker hat and all (seriously, that 3 is wearing a GREAT hat.
King Baby by Kate Beaton
Just for fun, do a Google image search of this title and author. Now read all the comics she’s put up there. More than just a larf for new parents.
Leave Me Alone! by Vera Brosgol
This may be my favorite picture book of the year. Dunno. I need to think about it for a while. A review of it should be posted on this site this week, at the very least.
Let Me Finish by Minh Le, ill. Isabel Roxas
Isn’t it nice when a friend of yours writes a book and it’s not only good, it’s one of the best of the year. Not too shabby there, Minh.
Lion Lessons by Jon Agee
One of these days Agee’s gonna lose his ability to write such good books. Any minute now . . . any minute . . .
Little Red and the Very Hungry Lion by Alex T. Smith
Excellent storytelling, great art, and if you’ve ever wondered to yourself what a lion’s mane would look like in cornrows, I think I know where you can go to find an answer. I hesitate to use the word “spunky” on this girl, so I’ll just call her “intrepid” and “intelligent” instead.
Lost and Found: Adele & Simon in China by Barbara McClintock
A book for VERY young eyes. I’m beginning to wonder if Ms. McClintock paints with the aid of electronic microscopes. Someday she’s going to paint a book on the head of a single grain of rice. I would read that rice.
Maya by Mahak Jain, ill. Elly MacKay
Empowering. Beautiful. Dreamlike. And I got to have a long conversation with my daughter about banyan trees, thanks to the storyline.
Maybe Something Beautiful: How Art Transformed a Neighborhood by F. Isabel Campoy & Theresa Howell, ill. Rafael Lopez
His art just makes me happy every time I see it. I’ll never get a tattoo, but if I absolutely had to have one, it might have to be of one of his images. A premiere of the book trailer here, if you’re interested.
Monday Is Wash Day by MaryAnn Sundby, ill. Tessa Blackham
Artistry, when done well and for the right reasons, yields classics. And look at th0se cut paper clothes. A steady hand needed there.
My Favorite Pets by Gus W. for Ms. Smolinski’s Class by Jeanne Birdsall, ill. Harry Bliss
Birdsall! Bliss! Hungry sheep! The story doesn’t exactly write itself, but when the final form is made clear it makes perfect sense.
My Friend Maggie by Hannah E. Harrison
I was tepid on Harrison’s first picture book, enticed by her second, and enthralled by this, her third. The cruel cuts of elementary school are keenly felt here. And the expressions on the animals’ faces? Classic.
Next to You: A Book of Adorableness by Lori Haskins Houran, ill. Sydney Hanson
Aw, yeah. I am so keeping this one the list. Read the review here to know why.
Nobody Like a Goblin by Ben Hatke
And with this book I interviewed Ben and he showed off the alternate cover. I think, after looking at it, you’ll understand why they went with this one.
Old MacDonald Had a Truck by Steve Goetz, ill. Eda Kaban
I have read this book roughly 500 million times to my 2-year-old son. I still like this book even after all of that. That tells me it must be pretty good. There’s always something new to see.
One Day in the Eucalyptus Eucalyptus Tree by Daniel Bernstrom, ill. by Brendan Wenzel
Such a brilliant readaloud! I know there’s another Wenzel book out there that I’m supposed to like more, but you never forget your first. And for me, this was the first Wenzel story I ever really loved. There will be others.
Pond by Jim LaMarche
There are at least two picture books out this year about damming up streams to make ponds. I like this one a lot. Kids really do like to hear about process sometimes. It would actually pair well with Ellen Obed’s Twelve Kinds of Ice.
Poor Little Guy by Elanna Allen
I’m an adult and the surprise ending on this book caught me unawares. Plus I love a good animator-turned-illustrator. This hits all the right picture book beats. Warning: May make you hungry for sushi.
A Promise Is a Promise by Knister, ill. Eve Tharlet
Another import about death. This one has a rather hopeful bent to it, though. It’s not the kind of art I usually like, but the storytelling overcame that personal prejudice.
Rabbit Magic by Meg McLaren
How long McLaren took to get those background bunnies right, I do not know. Once I get the hardcover I’ll be able to sit down and determine if every single bunny in this book has a different personality. I have a theory that this is the case . . .
Real Cowboys by Kate Hoefler, ill. Jonathan Bean
I just got this in yesterday. Shoot. I think it’s also a Caldecott contender. Bean’s usually a sure shot in that area, but it’s Hoefler’s text that raises the book out of the morass of other picture books. I never thought I could like a contemporary cowboy book so much.
Samson in the Snow by Philip C. Stead
I know, I know. If I include both of the Philip C. Stead books out this year, one of the two should have to go. But not this one! It’s so cute and friendly, with that hint of melancholy Mr. Stead always takes care to include, no matter how happy the tale.
School’s First Day of School by Adam Rex, ill. Christian Robinson
How many starred reviews has it gotten? Six? Seven? Then I think we can all agree that it’s probably the best going-to-school book on the market today. Pair it with Mom, It’s My First Day of Kindergarten for a truly inspired pairing.
The Shady Tree by Demi
Aw. This is Demi at her best. An original folktale with a cute and clever bent. Great tone as well.
Shy by Deborah Freedman
In my experience even the not-so-shy kids get a kick out of this one. Plus they’ll love going back through the book to spot Shy on the previous pages.
Skypig by Jan L. Coates, ill. Suzanne Del Rizzo
Crazycool art going on here. I think it’s all clay, but it’s hard to tell. Whatever the medium is, it fits the storyline perfectly. I always have so much fun reading the book that I forget to look up how it’s made.
Sleep Tight Farm: A Farm Prepares for Winter by Eugenie Doyle, ill. Becca Stadtlander
An Ox-Cart Man for the 21st century!
The Storm by Akiko Miyakoshi
You can practically taste the disappointment when that storm rolls in. It didn’t quite reach the heights of its predecessor The Tea Party in the Woods, but it’s still a studied, smart take on a common childhood experience.
The Storyteller by Evan Turk
What else could I even possibly tell you about this? Maybe it’ll finally be Turk’s year. He’s talented enough. My review of the book can be found here.
Super Happy Magic Forest by Matty Long
You may notice that this isn’t too dissimilar to Nobody Likes a Goblin. So I clearly have a penchant for picture books that upset fantasy expectations. Both books also look at the nature of quests.
A Toucan Can, Can You? by Danny Adlerman, ill. Various
Love it! Reviewed it recently here. The sheer array of artists makes this one a keeper. Plus it’s catchy. There is much to be said for catchy.
That’s Not a Hippopotamus! by Juliette Maclver, ill. Sarah Davis
Also a big hit in my child’s daycare. It has all the frantic energy of something like Catch That Cookie, but it also speaks to those quiet kids in a class. Good-natured, funny, and a fabulous readaloud to groups of kids.
They All Saw a Cat by Brendan Wenzel
Yeah. I stand by everything I’ve said about this book already. One of the best of the year. Bar none.
This Is My Dollhouse by Giselle Potter
At some point here I’ll show you my daughter’s dollhouse. One that was inspired by this book. She’s been working on it every night after daycare. Giselle Potter, you are a genius and I thank you.
The Three Lucys by Hayan Charara, ill. Sara Kahn
Tougher subject matter than your average picture book (and it could comfortably slot in the war and bereavement categories) there’s depth and carefully weighted words at work here.
Thunder Boy Jr. by Sherman Alexie, ill. Yuyi Morales
I had to have folks explain to me the brilliance of the art. Once I saw it, I could never unsee it. I have heard and understand the concerns, and even agree with them. Nevertheless, this is one of the strongest books of the year. No question.
The Uncorker of Ocean Bottles by Michelle Cuevas, ill. Erin E. Stead
Not that Philip E. Stead ever cornered the market on sweet melancholy. His wife has her own brand at hand.
The Water Princess by Susan Verde, ill. Peter H. Reynolds
Exceedingly beautiful and useful. Give it to any girl looking for princess fare. It’s not what they think they want, but few will turn it away. Plus it was hugely useful in telling my kid about how lucky we are to have water.
We Found a Hat by Jon Klassen
The sweetness of this book caught me off-guard. I’m adding the image of a turtle wearing an oversized hat to my list of Possible Tattoos I’ll Never Get, But Would At Least Consider.
A Well‐Mannered Young Wolf by Jean Leroy, ill. Matthieu Maudet
The ending caught me by surprise. In the best way possible. Definitely NOT American (thank goodness).
Where’s the Elephant? by Barroux
I love how this book sets up the expectation that it’s just another seek and find story and then slowly reveals that it has a bigger point to convey.
Who Broke the Teapot? by Bill Slavin
I was recently in Stratford, Ontario and this book was in a bookstore window. Little wonder. The art is clever and the solution to the mystery (because this really is a mystery in a picture book) is great. And funny, come to think of it.
Who Wants a Tortoise? by Dave Keane, ill. K.G. Campbell
Hmm. Two Campbell books as well. The man is a master of illustrated a distressed tortoise. Plus it’s kept me from calling turtles tortoises in the recent past.
Wild Eggs: A Tale of Arctic Egg Collecting by Suzie Napayok‐Short, ill. Jonathan Wright
It’s not a good list unless I can get a book from Inhabit Media on here somewhere. And Napayok-Short’s text is just lovely. Some kids may get disappointed that they can’t collect arctic eggs of their own, of course.
Worm Loves Worm by J.J. Austrian, ill. Mike Curato
Yet another case of a picture book subtly reinforcing a belief or understanding. Would actually pair with the aforementioned James Howe book exceedingly well.
Yellow Time by Lauren Stringer
Baby, there is always time for yellow time. Always.
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, Archie comics
, Astrid Lindgren
, book to screen
, children's literature in translation
, Elephant & Piggie
, Little Golden Books
, Minh Le
, Steph Laberis
, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe
, Ursula Vernon
, Add a tag
Here’s the thing about Minh Lê. He doesn’t blog terribly often, but when it does it just sort of explodes like an atom bomb on the scene. His Hamilton starring Elephant and Piggie . . . sheer brilliance. I’m just mad I didn’t think of it myself (not that I could ever have paired the text and art as well as he has). The best thing you’ll read today.
Translation? An art. I once heard that the reason the French are as crazy as they are about Edgar Allan Poe is that his translator (Stéphane Mallarmé?) improved upon the original English. Monica Edinger thinks about translation in the context of Struwwelpeter (love that stuff) and links to a Guardian article you’d do well to notice.
Yesterday my family and I returned from our annual trip to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Stratford, ON. While there, my five-year-old saw her very first play; a killer production of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe done with puppetry akin to War Horse. I guess I’ve had C.S. Lewis on the brain anyway, though, since I saw these adorable dioramas of famous scenes in books. Here’s the Wardrobe one:
When phys.org wrote a piece about book deserts (places where children lack access to books) there was a lot to pick apart. Looking through it, I found fascinating the part that said, “While online book sales have grown in recent years, three out of four children’s books are still bought in brick and mortar stores,” as well as, “dollar stores were the most common place to buy children’s books.” Dollar stores. I know that bookstores, aside from being difficult to find in low-income areas, contain books too pricey for most people to afford (see a recent comparison between British and American chain bookstores here), but it never occurred to me that dollar stores would be the obvious next step. If I were a forward thinking self-published author, that’s where I’d concentrate on getting my books. If the money evened out, of course. And speaking of books that are affordable for all people . . .
Good morning, class! I trust you are well rested this morning. Now, when we last met we were reading Leonard Marcus’s Golden Legacy: The Story of Golden Books. Your homework today is to consider the newest Little Golden Book on the market The Little Grumpy Cat That Wouldn’t. Place within the context of the Golden Books’ past how converting a YouTube sensation into a Golden Book both supports and/or undermines their historical legacy. Extra credit if you’ve worked into your report the work of illustrator Steph Laberis and the history of animators contributing to the Golden Books of previous decades. Papers are due in one week. No extensions.
We can’t seem to get her to interview the Newbery and Caldecott winners, but I think Ellen is getting some definite points for personally moving forward with a screen adaptation of Ursula Vernon’s truly delightful Castle Hangnail. Those of you looking for charming younger middle grade fantasy, this book is a delight. You have been warned. Thanks to PW Children’s Bookshelf.
Best title and photo ever:
Riverdale Turns Archie Comics Into a Teenage Noir Soap Opera, and It’s Way Too Much Fun
I don’t care if it isn’t any good. This alone gives balm to my soul.
Travis over at 100 Scope Notes has continued his thought process on the role of critical reviews on blogs. He asks if it is the nature of reviewing to want to think a book is better or worse than it actually is because both of these reactions fall within the “zone of enthusiasm” (be it positive or critical enthusiasm). I’m chewing on this one for a while. You can too.
I lived in Morningside Heights in NYC for about five years and Harlem for six. While there, I was always a bit shocked that there wasn’t a major museum there dedicated to the art and history of Harlem (the Schomburg Library and The Studio Museum in Harlem do what they can but we need something much bigger). This isn’t that, but it’s on the right track. Ms. Renée Watson (not to be confused with Rachel Renee Watson) has started an Indiegogo campaign to lease and renovate the brownstone where Langston Hughes lived and create an arts community there. It’s not specifically about children’s literature, but this is a worthy cause.
If I have learned anything in this life it is that every fake sounding profession out there is actually real. Take opera singing. When my friend since 7th grade, Meredith Arwady, decided to be an opera singer I had no idea that this was a legitimate profession. Now she’s stabbing Placido Domingo in her spare time. She’s also hugely generous. Check out her most recent present to me, purchased in Stockholm. It is a t-shirt, procured at a photography museum, of none other than Astrid Lindgren.
When I get my new author photo, I want it to look like THAT. Thanks, Mimi!
I think I need a new hobby. I should collect, and place on a website somewhere a listing of all the high cash, little known book awards for children’s books out there. Perhaps this already exists somewhere. Hm.
In any case, it wasn’t long ago that a friend alerted me to the Grateful American Book Prize. It’s an odd name, no question, but a fascinating award. First off, its description says of it:
“The new literary award is his way of recognizing authors who pen illustrated works for children that are focused on historical American events and personalities . . .
The Prize will be awarded to the authors of books for children in grades seven through nine dealing with important moments and people in America’s history. The books can be works of fiction or non-fiction and will include illustrations to help bring the author’s words to life. “We are looking for excellence in writing, storytelling and illustration” . . .
In addition to the fact that it will be among the richest prizes for literary accomplishment, $13,000 – thirteen for the number of original colonies…”
Oh ho, say the masses. But what kinds of history are we talking here? There’s a lot of talk about the Founding Fathers on the website. Are they looking for books that are just along those lines? Well, honestly, the requirements say that they want American history (no specific kind) in general in books for middle schoolers. Though, looking at why it was created, I do suspect the arbitrators of this award came up with it before the huge masses of middle school kids across the country started memorizing the Hamilton soundtrack. But who could have predicted that you’d have 7th graders everywhere talking about The Federalist Papers? I mean, honestly?
Since it’s a new award there’s only one previous winner that I can find, and that’s Like a River by Kathy Cannon Wiechman.
Interested in submitting your book? Well, I’m letting you know about it too late if you’ve a 2015/16 title. The deadline just passed. However, if you’ve a historical book for 7th – 9th graders published between July 2016 and June 2017, keep an eye on this website and wait for the green light to submit. After all, what may happen here is that because the award is too little known, they might not get a wide variety of different types of history. So I call upon those of you with a diverse range of historical topics and subjects to submit (if your publisher can send the 8 copies they require). Inject some new blood here!
By the way, this award does make one mistake on its website. Of the award it says, “it will also stand alone, among the nearly six dozen literary awards presented each year for children’s books. The Grateful American™ Prize is the only one that recognizes works dealing with American history.” Not so. I myself have served on the New York Historical Society’s Children’s History Book Prize, which only looks at American middle grade historical fiction and that award comes with a $10,000 prize. So you see, my good sweet children’s authors, there are plenty of monetary awards out there if you just know how to look for them.
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, Best Books of 2016
, Reviews 2016
, 2016 Caldecott contenders
, 2016 nonfiction picture books
, 2016 picture book biographies
, African-American authors and illustrators
, African-American biographies
, African-American history
, African-American picture book biographies
, Javaka Steptoe
, Little Brown and Company
, nonfiction picture books
, picture book biographies
, Add a tag
Radiant Child: The Story of Young Artist Jean-Michel Basquiat
By Javaka Steptoe
Little, Brown & Co.
Ages 5 and up
On shelves October 25th
True Story: I’m working the children’s reference desk of the Children’s Room at 42nd Street of New York Public Library a couple years ago and a family walks in. They go off to read some books and eventually the younger son, I’d say around four years of age, approaches my desk. He walks right up to me, looks me dead in the eye, and says, “I want all your Javaka Steptoe books.” Essentially this child was a living embodiment of my greatest dream for mankind. I wish every single kid in America followed that little boy’s lead. Walk up to your nearest children’s librarian and insist on a full fledged heaping helping of Javaka. Why? Well aside from the fact that he’s essentially children’s book royalty (his father was the groundbreaking African-American picture book author/illustrator John Steptoe) he’s one of the most impressive / too-little-known artists working today. But that little boy knew him and if his latest picture book biography “Radiant Child: The Story of Young Artist Jean-Michel Basquiat” is even half as good as I think it is, a whole host of children will follow suit. But don’t take my word for it. Take that four-year-old boy’s. That kid knew something good when he saw it.
“Somewhere in Brooklyn, a little boy dreams of being a famous artist, not knowing that one day he will make himself a KING.” That boy is an artist already, though not famous yet. In his house he colors on anything and everything within reach. And the art he makes isn’t pretty. It’s, “sloppy, ugly, and sometimes weird, but somehow still BEAUTIFUL.” His mother encourages him, teaches him, and gives him an appreciation for all the art in the world. When he’s in a car accident, she’s the one who hands him Gray’s Anatomy to help him cope with what he doesn’t understand. Still, nothing can help him readily understand his own mother’s mental illness, particularly when she’s taken away to live where she can get help. All the same, that boy, Jean-Michel Basquiat, shows her his art, and with determination he grows up, moves to Manhattan, and starts his meteoric rise in the art scene. All this so that when, at long last, he’s at the top of his game, it’s his mother who sits on the throne at his art shows. Additional information about Basquiat appears at the back of the book alongside a key to the motifs in his work, an additional note from Steptoe himself on what Basquiat’s life and work can mean to young readers, and a Bibliography.
Javaka Steptoe apparently doesn’t like to make things easy for himself. If he wanted to, he could illustrate all the usual African-American subjects we see in books every year. Your Martin Luther Kings and Rosa Parks and George Washington Carvers. So what projects does he choose instead? Complicated heroes who led complicated lives. Artists. Jimi Hendrix and guys like that. Because for all that kids should, no, MUST know who Basquiat was, he was an adult with problems. When Steptoe illustrated Gary Golio’s bio of Hendrix (Jimi: Sounds Like a Rainbow) critics were universal in their praise. And like that book, Steptoe ends his story at the height of Basquiat’s fame. I’ve seen some folks comment that the ending here is “abrupt” and that’s not wrong. But it’s also a natural high, and a real time in the man’s life when he was really and truly happy. When presenting a subject like Basquiat to a young audience you zero in on the good, acknowledge the bad in some way (even if it’s afterwards in an Author’s Note), and do what you can to establish precisely why this person should be mentioned alongside those Martin Luther Kings, Rosa Parks, and George Washington Carvers.
There’s this moment in the film Basquiat when David Bowie (playing Andy Warhol) looks at some of his own art and says off-handedly, “I just don’t know what’s good anymore.” I have days, looking at the art of picture books when I feel the same way. Happily, there wasn’t a minute, not a second, when I felt that way about Radiant Child. Now I’m going to let you in on a little secret: Do you know what one of the most difficult occupations to illustrate a picture book biography about is? Artist. Because right from the start the illustrator of the book is in a pickle. Are you going to try to replicate the art of this long dead artist? Are you going to grossly insert it into your own images, even if the book isn’t mixed media to begin with? Are you going to try to illustrate the story in that artist’s style alone, relegating images of their actual art to the backmatter? Steptoe addresses all this in his Note at the back of the book. As he says, “Instead of reproducing or including copies of real Basquiat paintings in this book, I chose to create my own interpretations of certain pieces and motifs.” To do this he raided Basquiat’s old haunts around NYC for discarded pieces of wood to paint on. The last time I saw this degree of attention paid to painting on wood in a children’s book was Paul O. Zelinsky’s work on Swamp Angel. In Steptoe’s case, his illustration choice works shockingly well. Look how he manages to give the reader a sense of perspective when he presents Picasso’s “Guernica” at an angle, rather than straight on. Look how the different pieces of wood, brought together, fit, sometimes including characters on the same piece to show their closeness, and sometimes painting them on separate pieces as a family is broken apart. And the remarkable thing is that for all that it’s technically “mixed-media”, after the initial jolt of the art found on the title page (a full wordless image of Basquiat as an adult surrounded by some of his own imagery) you’re all in. You might not even notice that even the borders surrounding these pictures are found wood as well.
The precise age when a child starts to feel that their art is “not good” anymore because it doesn’t look realistic or professional enough is relative. Generally it happens around nine or ten. A book like Radiant Child, however, is aimed at younger kids in the 6-9 year old range. This is good news. For one thing, looking at young Basquiat vs. older Basquiat, it’s possible to see how his art is both childlike and sophisticated all at once. A kid could look at what he’s doing in this book and think, “I could do that!” And in his text, Steptoe drills into the reader the fact that even a kid can be a serious artist. As he says, “In his house you can tell a serious ARTIST dwells.” No bones about it.
How much can a single picture book bio do? Pick a good one apart and you’ll see all the different levels at work. Steptoe isn’t just interested in celebrating Basquiat the artist or encouraging kids to keep working on their art. He also notes at the back of the book that the story of Basquiat’s relationship with his mother, who suffered from mental illness, was very personal to him. And so, Basquiat’s mother remains an influence and an important part of his life throughout the text. You might worry, and with good reason, that the topic of mental illness is too large for a biography about someone else, particularly when that problem is not the focus of the book. How do you properly address such an adult problem (one that kids everywhere have to deal with all the time) while taking care to not draw too much attention away from the book’s real subject? Can that even be done? Sacrifices, one way or another, have to be made. In Radiant Child Steptoe’s solution is to show Jean-Michel within the lens of his art’s relationship to his mother. She talks to him about art, takes him to museums, and encourages him to keep creating. When he sees “Guernica”, it’s while he’s holding her hand. And because Steptoe has taken care to link art + mom, her absence is keenly felt when she’s gone. The book’s borders go a dull brown. Just that single line “His mother’s mind is not well” says it succinctly. Jean-Michel is confused. The kids reading the book might be confused. But the feeling of having a parent you are close to leave you . . . we can all relate to that, regardless of the reason. It’s just going to have a little more poignancy for those kids that have a familiarity with family members that suffer mental illnesses. Says Steptoe, maybe with this book those kids can, “use Basquiat’s story as a catalyst for conversation and healing.”
That’s a lot for a single picture book biography to take on. Yet I truly believe that Radiant Child is up to the task. It’s telling that in the years since I became a children’s librarian I’ve seen a number of Andy Warhol biographies and picture books for kids but the closest thing I ever saw to a Basquiat bio for children was Life Doesn’t Frighten Me as penned by Maya Angelou, illustrated by Jean-Michel. And that wasn’t even really a biography! For a household name, that’s a pretty shabby showing. But maybe it makes sense that only Steptoe could have brought him to proper life and to the attention of a young readership. In such a case as this, it takes an artist to display another artist. Had Basquiat chosen to create his own picture book autobiography, I don’t think he could have done a better job that what Radiant Child has accomplished here. Timely. Telling. Overdue.
On shelves October 25th.
Source: F&G sent from publisher for review.
Professional Reviews: A star from Kirkus
Documentary Following Curious George Creators Hans A. & Margret Rey Announced – Ema Ryan Yamazaki Directorial Debut
New York City, NY – July 26, 2016 – In celebration of the world’s most beloved monkey, who turns seventy-five years old this year, filmmaker Ema Ryan Yamazaki announces the first ever mixed-media documentary about Curious George. Monkey Business delves into the extraordinary lives of Hans and Margret Rey, the authors of the beloved Curious George children’s books. The Reys were of German-Jewish descent and narrowly escaped the Nazis on makeshift bicycles they rode across Europe, carrying the yet-to-be-published Curious George manuscript with them.
To tell this remarkable story, Yamazaki obtained exclusive rights from the Rey’s estate, curated by longtime caretaker to Margret Rey, Ley Lee Ong, gaining access to the over 300 boxes of the Reys’ personal archives at the de Grummond Collection, housed at the University of Southern Mississippi. Through a unique and Rey-inspired technique of animation, as well as archival photographs, the documentary tells the story of the couple’s lives, the birth of George and how the well-loved children’s book character almost didn’t come to fruition. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt and Universal hold the publishing and merchandising rights to the literary and cultural icon, but it is Yamazaki who has been entrusted with documenting this inspiring story of perseverance, adventure, family and what it means to be a world citizen.
Monkey Business: The Curious Adventures of George’s Creators is Yamazaki’s directorial debut, after amassing an impressive editing credit list including collaborations with seasoned storyteller, Sam Pollard (When The Levees Broke). Marc Levin (Chicagoland) is onboard as Executive Producer.
Yamazaki, who claims Japan, the UK and New York as three unique homes, was inspired by the Rey’s journey and philosophy of living. She felt a kinship with the married authors of German-Jewish descent who were also multinationals having made homes in Brazil, Paris and ultimately New York City. With immigration and refugee-crises at the center of current and urgent international debate, Monkey Business reminds us that we are all world-citizens, searching for and deserving of a home.
To fund the post-production costs of Monkey Business, Yamazaki is running an ambitious Kickstarter campaign, releasing timeless original Curious George prints and digital archive downloads as rewards. The Kickstarter is also intended to be an invitation to the world-community to find inspiration in Hans and Margret Rey’s story. How curiosity & imagination gave them the power to overcome life’s greatest challenges. The link to the Kickstarter, which includes personal testimony by Yamazaki about the making of the film, can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1344946756/curious-george-documentary?ref=filmpress
ABOUT EMA RYAN YAMAZAKI (Director)
Raised in Japan and England and currently based in New York, Ema has always loved telling stories – first as a dancer, and now as a filmmaker. She has directed documentaries such as MONK BY BLOOD and NEITHER HERE NOR THERE that have been seen around the world. As an editor, Ema’s work has screened on HBO, PBS, CNN at Sundance Film Festival, Toronto Film Festival, Tribeca Film Festival, among others.
MARC LEVIN (Executive Producer)
In his 30+ years as an independent filmmaker, Marc has won the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, the Camera D’Or at Cannes, National Emmys and duPont-Columbia Awards. His work includes SLAM, HEIR TO AN EXECUTION, and the BRICK CITY TV-series.
JACOB KAFKA (Animator)
The son of a rabbi and a seismologist, Jacob grew up in Massachusetts and has been making movies since he was five years old. His animated short films BASED ON A TRUE STORY and COLD FEET have played in festivals such as TIFF Kids, Woodstock Film Festival, Animation Block Party, ASIFA-East Animation Festival, and been featured on Cartoon Brew. He developed the animation software “RoughAnimator” for mobile devices, which has been used by thousands of animators around the world.
“Colored marker drawing of Curious George on flip chart”, H.A. and Margret Rey Collection, de Grummond Children’s Literature Collection, University of Southern Mississippi libraries
Hans & Margret Rey, Photo Credit Penny Stearns Palmer
Director Ema Ryan Yamazaki, Photo credit Adam Gundershimer
|P|R|O|D|U|C|T|I|O|N| |F|O|R| |U|S|E|
5555 N Lamar Blvd. Ste J125
Austin, TX 78751
Today we’re going to talk about what happens when your name is so common, it shows up in children’s books willy-nilly without actually having anything to do with YOU. Which is to say, me.
I took my name willingly. No parent in their right mind should name a child “Betsy Bird” after all. When I met my future husband it was, I will admit, one of the first things I realized. “If I marry this guy I could be . . . Betsy Bird!” So the die was cast. You can do something like that to your own name. When my own kids were born, however, I realized what a great responsibility a noun-based last name is. And not just any noun. An animal. So out the window went possible names like Robin, Soren, Colin (think about the song “The 12 Days of Christmas”), Claude, Charlie, Larry, and any first name beginning with the letter “B”. My husband and I broke the “no two nouns” rule, but at this moment in time I’m the only alliterative name in the family.
What I hadn’t counted on was how common it would be to find my name in children’s books. I sort of suspected. It happens in books for adults, after all. Little Big by John Crowley (which is definitely not a book for kids) has a “Betsy Bird” in it. And as for the name “Mrs. Bird” you can find it in everything from Buck’s Tooth to P.D. Eastman’s The Best Nest (where Mrs. Bird is a shrieking harridan, so I try not to read too much into that one). Mrs. Birds are a dime a dozen, it seems.
I do occasionally show up in children’s books, though. Sometimes clearly. Other times I try to read between the lines (and fail). As of this post there are only two instances of clear cut references. They are:
The Librarian in Freckleface Strawberry: Best Friends Forever
This is only because artist LeUyen Pham is the nicest human being alive. So in one scene Windy Pants is discussing what appears to be Junie B. Jones with this person:
In future books in the series, the librarian looks entirely different.
The only other time it happened was, in all books . . .
A Very Babymouse Christmas
In this book various alliterative animals are having their names called. Including (and off-camera):
There is also a bird librarian in the first Platypus Police Squad title The Frog That Croaked. The book takes place in Kalamazoo City and the librarian is a bird. I’m from Kalamazoo and my name IS Bird. However, this is probably just coincidental. After all, my mohawk is nowhere near as nice as hers.
This year I’ve also noticed a significant uptick in “Mrs. Birds” in middle grade novels. Women who are NOT me. Not even slightly. But folks do ask me from time to time, so to set the record straight . . .
The First Grade Teacher in The Best Man by Richard Peck
Is not me. She a bit dippy, so you’d be forgiven for mistaking us, but though I do own the occasional corduroy skirt, she’s not me.
Nor am I the mom in the next Rita Williams-Garcia book. A great sounding title (coming out in 2017) I can’t remember the actual title but it involves a love of jazz. As such, the mom is Mrs. Bird, probably because of Charlie “Bird” Parker.
I suspect that there are other children’s librarians out there who have accidentally found themselves within the pages of a children’s book in the past. Maybe even as the librarian his or her own self. If you have ’em, confess ’em! We the commonly monikered should stick together. And if you’ve been in the pages of a book thanks to the efforts of a kindly illustrator, tell me that too! I’d love to have a working list of librarians that appear in books by great artists.
Thanks to Travis Jonker who suggested that I write a post called “I’m (Not) So Vain, I Probably Think This Book Isn’t About Me”. That is because he is a nice guy. My post’s title is probably a little more on the nose-y.
Recently I did a post where I mentioned several wonderful Hark, A Vagrant webcomics featuring historical figures that I’d love to see turned into picture book biographies. Well, in a similar vein, I’m a big fan of the Drunk History series on Comedy Central too. It’ll be returning soon for a fourth season and has a lovely way of highlighting stories that I think would adapt brilliantly into the children’s nonfiction book format. The real stories, that is. Not the drunk tellers. That would be weird.
Now because this is a post where comedians get drunk and try to tell historical moments in history, I think it’s pretty safe to say that a goodly chunk of the videos embedded here are Not Safe for Work.
A quick note too that this is mostly male, just as the Hark, A Vagrant piece contained mostly women. Kate Beaton’s better at awesome women than Drunk History. Sad but true.
And none of these video clips are complete by the way. They’re just little snippets of the full stories.
Jim Thorpe is named the greatest athlete of the 20th century
The Joseph Bruchac picture book biography Jim Thorpe’s Bright Path and his fiction work Jim Thorpe: Original All-American are pretty much the gold standard on all things children’s-books-about-Jim-Thorpe. Still, considering how amazing the guy was, I bet we could get a lot more books about him out there (though I’d be amiss in not also mentioning Don Brown’s Bright Path: Young Jim Thorpe). You could even do what Drunk History does here and just highlight one amazing moment in his life. This clip doesn’t get to it, but when his shoes get stolen and he competes with a pair he finds in the trash . . . I mean, that’s amazing.
Japanese-American Daniel Inouye fights in World War II
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – We do NOT have enough picture book bios of badass Asian-American heroes. In the Hark, A Vagrant post I made a case for Katherine Sui Fun Cheung. Well considering Daniel Inouye’s life and contributions it is doggone weird that he has so little in the children’s biography realm.
Sybil Ludington takes her midnight ride
Sadly this clip doesn’t really get to the thick of her contributions in the Revolutionary War, but it’s a good start. Very few 16-year-old female war heroes out there. To be fair, this very year (2016) Feiwel and Friends published E.F. Abbot’s fictionalized accounting in Sybil Ludington: Revolutionary War Rider. But a little nonfiction wouldn’t hurt too.
Muhammad Ali refuses to fight in the Vietnam War.
One of my favorites. I know we’ve a fair number of Ali bios for kids. But, again, what about highlighting this moment in his life? It makes for a fascinating story in and of itself (and lord knows we have too few pacifist bios out there on beyond Gandhi).
Despite having only one hand, Jim Abbott proves to be a great baseball players.
Again, I wish we had the full clip here for you to watch. Abbott’s story is amazing in and of itself. The Cuba part is nice but let’s just get into the fact that he could pitch one-handed. How about that, eh?
Thanks for checking them out! And with the fourth seasons of the show at hand (including one told by Lin-Manuel Miranda) more ideas are bound to come up.
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, Best Books of 2016
, Reviews 2016
, 2016 funny books
, 2016 middle grade fantasy
, 2016 middle grade fiction
, 2016 middle school fiction
, Amulet Books
, Amy Ignatow
, funny books
, funny fantasy
, middle grade fantasy
, middle school fantasy
, middle school novels
, Add a tag
The Mighty Odds
By Amy Ignatow
Amulet Books (an imprint of Abrams)
Ages 10 and up
On shelves September 13th
If you could have one weird superpower, what would it be? Not a normal one, mind you. We’re not doing a flight vs. invisibility discussion here. The power would have to be extraordinary and odd. If it’s completely useless, all the better. Me? I think I’d like my voice to be same as the voice you hear in your head when you’re reading something. You know that voice? That would be my superpower. A good author can crank this concept up to eleven if they want to. Enter, Amy Ignatow. She is one of the rare authors capable of making me laugh out loud at the back covers of her books. For years she’s penned The Popularity Papers to great success and acclaim. Now that very realistic school focus is getting a bit of a sci-fi/fantasy kick in the pants. In The Mighty Odds, Ignatow takes the old misfits-join-together-to-save-the-world concept and throws in a lot of complex discussions of race, middle school politics, bullying, and good old-fashioned invisible men. The end result is a 21st century superhero story for kids that’s keeps you guessing every step of the way.
A school bus crashes in a field. No! Don’t worry! No one is killed (that we can tell). And the bus was just full of a bunch of disparate kids without any particular connection to one another. There was the substitute teacher and the bus driver (who has disappeared). And there was mean girl Cookie (the only black girl in school and one of the most popular), Farshad (nicknamed “Terror Boy” long ago by Cookie), Nick (nerdy and sweet), and Martina (the girl no one notices, though she’s always drawing in her sketchbook). After the accident everything should have just gotten back to normal. Trouble is, it didn’t. Each person who was on or near the bus when the accident occurred is a little bit different. It might be a small thing, like the fact that Martina’s eyes keep changing color. It might be a weird thing, like how Cookie can read people’s minds when they’re thinking of directions. It might be a powerful thing, like Farad’s super strength in his thumbs. Or it might be a potentially powerful, currently weird thing like Nick’s sudden ability to teleport four inches to his left. And that’s before they discover that someone is after them. Someone who means them harm.
Superhero misfits are necessarily new. Remember Mystery Men? This book reminded me a lot of that old comic book series / feature film. In both cases superpowers are less a metaphor and more a vehicle for hilarity. I read a lot of books for kids but only once in a while do I find one enjoyable enough to sneak additional reads of on the sly. This book hooked me fairly early on, and I credit its sense of humor for that. Here’s a good example of it. Early in the book Cookie and a friend are caught leaving the field trip for their own little side adventure. The kids in their class speculate what they got up to and one says that clearly they got drunk. Farshad’s dry wit then says, “… because two twelve-year-olds finding a bar in Philadelphia that would serve them at eleven A.M. was completely plausible.” Add in the fact that they go to “Deborah Read Middle School” (you’ll have to look it up) and I’m good to go.
Like I’ve said, the book could have just been another fun, bloodless superhero misfit storyline. But Ignatow likes challenges. When she wrote the Popularity Papers books she gave one of her two heroines two dads and then filled the pages with cursive handwriting. Here, her heroes are a variety of different races and backgrounds, but this isn’t a Benetton ad. People don’t get along. Cookie’s the only black kid in her school and she’s been very careful to cement herself as popular from the start. When her mom moved them to Muellersville, Cookie had to be careful to find a way to become “the most popular and powerful person in school.” Martina suggests at one point that she likes being angry, and indeed when the world starts to go crazy on her the thing that grounds her, if only for a moment, is anger. And why shouldn’t she be angry? Her mom moved her away from her extended family to a town where she knew no one, and then her mother married a guy with two kids fairly fast. Cookie herself speculates about the fact that she probably has more in common with Farshad than she’d admit. “He was the Arab Kid, just like Cookie was the Black Girl and Harshita Singh was the Indian Girl and Danny Valdez was the Hispanic Guy and Emma Lee was the Asian Chick. They should have all formed a posse long ago and walked around Muellersville together, just to freak people out.” Cookie realizes that she and Farshad need to have one another’s backs. “It was one thing to be a brown person in Muellersville and another to be a brown person in Muellersville with superpowers.” At this point in time Ignatow doesn’t dig any deeper into this, but Cookie’s history, intentions, and growth give her a depth you won’t find in the usual popular girl narrative.
For the record, I have a real appreciation for contemporary books that feature characters that get almost zero representation in books. For example, one of the many things I love about Tom Angleberger’s The Qwikpick Papers series is that one of the three heroes is Jehovah’s Witness. In this book, one of the kids that comes to join our heroes is Amish. Amish kids are out there. They exist. And they almost never EVER get heroic roles in stories about a group of friends. And Abe doesn’t have a large role in this book, it’s true, but it’s coming.
Having just one African-American in the school means that you’re going to have ignorant other characters. Cookie has done a good job at getting the popular kids in line, but that doesn’t mean that everyone is suddenly enlightened. Anyone can be tone deaf. Even one of our heroes, which in this case means Nick’s best friend, the somewhat ADD, always chipper Jay. Now I’ve an odd bit of affection for Jay, and not just because in his endless optimism he honestly thinks he’ll get permission to show his class Evil Dead Two on the field trip bus (this may also mark the first time an Evil Dead film has been name dropped in a middle grade novel, by the way). The trouble comes when he talks about Cookie. He has a tendency to not just be tone deaf but veering into really racially questionable territory when he praises her. Imagine a somewhat racist Pepe Le Pew. That’s Jay. He’s a small town kid who’s only known a single solitary black person his entire life and he’s enamored with her. Still, that’s no excuse for calling her “my gorgeous Nubian queen” or saying someday they’ll “make coffee-colored babies.” I expected a little more a comeuppance for Jay and his comments, but I suppose that’ll have to wait for a future book in the series. At the very least, his words are sure to raise more than few eyebrows from readers.
Funny is good. Great even. But funny doesn’t lift a middle grade book out of the morass of other middle grade books that are clogging up the bookstores and libraries of the world. To hit home you need to work just a smidgen of heart in there. A dose of reality. Farad’s plight as the victim of anti-Muslim sentiment is very real, but it’s also Nick’s experiences with his dying/dead father that do some heavy lifting. As you get to know Nick, Ignatow sprinkles hints about his life throughout the text in a seamless manner. Like when Nick is thinking about weird days in his life and flashes back to the day after his dad’s funeral. He and his mom had “spent the entire day flopped on the couch, watching an impromptu movie marathon of random films (The Lord of the Rings, They Live, Some Like It Hot, Ghostbusters, and Babe) and eating fancy stuff from the gift baskets that people had sent, before finally getting up to order pizza.” There’s a strong smack of reality in that bit, and there are more like it in the book. A funny book that sucker punches your heart from time to time makes for good reading.
Lest we forget, this is an illustrated novel. Ignatow makes the somewhat gutsy choice of not explaining the art for a long time. Long before we even get to know Martina, we see her in various panels and spreads as an alien. In time, we learn that the art in this book is all her art, and that she draws herself as a Martian because that’s what her sister calls her. Not that you’ll know any of this for about 125 pages. The author makes you work to get at that little nugget of knowledge. By the way, as a character, Martina the artist is fascinating. She’s sort of the Luna Lovegood of the story. Or, as Nick puts it, “She had a sort of almost absentminded way of saying things that shouldn’t have been true but probably were.” There is one tiny flub in the art when Martina draws all the kids as superheroes and highlights Farshad’s thumbs, though at that point in the storyline Martina wouldn’t know that those are his secret weapons. Other than that, it’s pretty perfect.
It’s also pretty clearly middle school fare, if based on language alone. You’ve got kids leaving messages on cinderblocks that read “Nolite te bastardes carborundorum” or “Don’t let the bastards get you down.” That may be the most realistic middle school detail I’ve read in a book in a long time. The bullying is systematic, realistic, and destructive (though that’s never clear to the people doing the bullying). A little more hard core than what an elementary school book might discuss. And Cookie is a superb bully. She’s honestly baffled when Farad confronts her about what she’s done to him with her rumors.
A word of warning to the wise: This is clearly the first book in a longer series. When you end this tale you will know the characters and know their powers but you still won’t know who the bad guys are exactly, why the kids got their powers (though the bus driver does drop one clue), or where the series is going next. For a story where not a lot of time passes, it really works the plotting and strong characterizations in there. I like middle grade books that dream big and shoot for the moon. “The Mighty Odds” does precisely that and also works in some other issues along the way. Just to show that it can. Great, fun, silly, fantastical fantasy work. A little smarter and a little weirder than most of the books out there today.
On shelves September 13th.
Source: Galley sent from publisher for review.
The other day I was sitting with a group of talented children’s librarians discussing Dan Santat’s Are We There Yet? Boy, I tell ya, there’s nothing like sitting down with smart people to hear them discuss a picture book in full. I walked out of that room with a lot more knowledge crammed into my cranium than I’d had coming in.
In the course of our talk, it was pointed out that Santat’s latest would actually pair very well with Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. There’s something about the tone of both the book and the film, that madcap good-natured energy, that jells. And so, in that vein, I present to you one of my odder posts. Picture book and movie pairings. I have absolutely no idea when you’d actually want to pair the two together. I just like the couplings.
Are We There Yet? + Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure
Granted, there are a lot less pirates in Bill & Ted. But the idea of traveling through history and gathering a wacky crew of folks along the way . . . that’s awesome.
The Cat and the Hat + Risky Business
Apropos of nothing, the other day a woman in my library mentioned to me that she’d always been discomforted by Seuss’s classic easy reader. There was something about the chaos of it all that really got to her. She likened it to Risky Business, which I thought was a particularly amusing pairing. In both cases a house experiences chaos and clean-up. And in both cases you really don’t want to be in trouble with mom. The big difference between the two is that Seuss’s book ends with a question about what YOU would do if your mother asked YOU what you got up to while she was gone. Tom Cruise suffers no such dark night of the soul.
Are You My Mother + Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome
I’ve often gone on record saying that P.D. Eastman’s classic feels like a somewhat post-apocalyptic wasteland. Admittedly this comparison to Thunderdome isn’t perfect because there are no mothers in that movie (nor any sentient machines). Still, in both cases you have motherless children, and some crazy technology, so I’d say the pairing holds.
Frog and Toad Are Friends + Elling
This one makes a lot of sense to me. The nature of the relationship between a laid back frog and an uptight toad pairs just beautifully with this charming if admittedly somewhat obscure 2001 Norwegian film. I just see a lot of parallels between Elling and Kjell and Frog and Toad. For a while there Kevin Spacey was going to remake it here in America. It didn’t work out, but if Spacey ever wants to consider taking the role of Toad instead, I think he’d be perfect for it.
Outside Over There + Labyrinth
Cheating. This one’s cheating. There’s a lot of evidence to suggest that Labyrinth was inspired, in part, by the lesser known of the Sendak picture book trilogy (the first two books being Where the Wild Things Are and In the Night Kitchen). Sendak is even thanked at the end of the credits so there’s that as well. I don’t really have to explain why the book and movie are related. Goblins and stolen babies = children’s classics no matter what the media.
The Little House + Up
That’s a good pairing. In both cases the house is moved in the wake of incessant industrialization. However, if I can remember the ending of Up, the house in Burton’s book fares far better.
Sylvester and the Magic Pebble + Being John Malkovich
Yes? No? Am I the only one who sees this? I think it’s the idea of being awake and alert and trapped in a situation where you’ll never be able to escape on your own. So maybe I should have said Sylvester and the Magic Pebble and the END of Being John Malkovich.
Blueberries for Sal and Grizzly Man
ACK! That’s no good. Abort! Abort!
This year, in 2016, a conversation has sprung up around the picture book There Is a Tribe of Kids by Lane Smith. The discussion has occurred primarily on blogs and listservs with the occasional mention on Twitter. I would like to summarize the points here and explain what’s going on, since, unlike A Fine Dessert and A Birthday Cake for George Washington, I suspect this debate may likely remain within the children’s literature sphere and not branch out into the larger media. That means that of my readership, perhaps only a small percentage is aware of what’s going on.
Here then are the facts about what’s gone down with There Is a Tribe of Kids, as we know it today.
Published by Roaring Brook Press, an imprint of Macmillan, the book was released this year on May 3rd. Due to the fact that the author was Lane Smith, it got a serious publicity push. Smith hadn’t written and illustrated a picture book in this illustration style since his Caldecott Honor winning Grandpa Green, so hopes were undoubtedly high on the part of the publisher.
The book garnered five starred reviews (if we count Shelf Awareness). On May 5th a review appeared in The New York Times by picture book author and blogger Minh Lê in which he made the following statement:
“Acceptance finally comes with the discovery of a diverse group of other leaf-clad children, kindred spirits who form their own “tribe of kids.” Within the confines of the book, this is a heartwarming finale. Unfortunately, for me the juxtaposition of the word “tribe” with the woodland utopia conjured uncomfortable associations. For example, in the final scene, as the child describes his journey to his new friends, he wears feathers in his hair to re-enact his stint among an “unkindness of ravens.” It’s a whimsical visual in isolation, but some readers may detect something ill-advised, if not sadly familiar, in its echoes of the longstanding trope in children’s literature that uses Native imagery or “playing Indian” to signify wildness, especially since the word “tribe” is so central to this often captivating book.”
Months passed. On July 8th Sam Bloom wrote about his similar concerns on the site Reading While White. It led to about 128 comments and counting. This was followed up with two different blog posts by Debbie Reese at American Indians in Children’s Literature. The first was posted on July 9th. After it came out there was some discussion on the child_lit listserv. This led to a response by author Rosanne Parry where she defended the book. Debbie’s second response came on July 14th in direct response to Parry’s. Roxane Feldmann offered her own two cents at her fairrosa blog, which also offers a good encapsulation of the debate.
Meanwhile, on the listservs, discussions have raged at both child_lit and alsc-l though the conversation changed slightly on both sites. For example, on child_lit folks were finding themselves compared to Trump. On alsc-l the topic turned to collection development in libraries and where this book fits in when librarians decide not to buy it for their systems.
And yet, for all the discussion, the wider world has been left largely unawares. As of this post the book has only one critical review on Amazon, and that’s from a grandmother who thinks the title is too advanced for children to comprehend. On Goodreads it has 510 ratings and 125 Reviews, but few if any mention this debate. It’s too early in the season for Calling Caldecott to discuss it seriously. So in many ways the book discussion is contained entirely within a very small area online.
And that would be that.
My opinion then? Hm.
Well, the fact of the matter is that I’m far more interested in the discussion surrounding the book than the book itself. I’m particularly interested in how different opinions are being treated by both parties.
Because of the nature of the disagreement over the title, the book is currently garnering comparisons to A Fine Dessert and its subsequent criticisms. And as with A Fine Dessert I included it in my Spring Caldecott prediction post and removed it for my Summer prediction post. Why the removal this time? Because at this point it’s clear that this book is going to be the Caldecott committee’s most interesting point of debate and with 2016 such a shockingly strong Caldecott year (it’s kind of frightening how strong it is) it’s entirely likely that the book isn’t going to go very far. For my part, I didn’t notice the implication of the word “tribe” on an early read and would have missed it entirely if Minh hadn’t written his article.
I’ll say this much. It takes guts to write about this topic. No one likes to be the subject of flame wars and in-fighting. In our current age of social media, blogging has changed significantly. There was a time before the rise of Twitter when it took a little longer for blog posts to catch fire. Now bloggers watch what they say with great trepidation. The people I’ve mentioned above are brave, all of them, whether you agree with them or not.
I have read every opinion, comment, and question about this book that I could get my hands on. I see the concerns at work here. I don’t agree with some of the critics. I agree with some of the others, or at least can see their point of view. More than anything, I’m interested in hearing a wide range of opinions, both pro and con. In the end, I suspect that the discussion may die down and then reignite as we get closer to the award season. When that happens, I’ll watch the new debates with equal interest.
Time for another post that justifies my current job. As you may or may not know, as Evanston Public Library’s Collection Development Manager I buy all the adult books. Which is to say, they apparently make them for people over the age of 12 these days. Who knew? Happily, there are plenty of connections to the wide and wonderful world of children’s literature in the grown-up book universe. Here are a couple of interesting recent examples you might enjoy:
Though she’s best known in our world as a mighty successful picture book author (with a killer ping-pong backswing) Rosenthal’s that rare beast that manages to straddle writing for both adults and kids. The last time she wrote an out-and-out book for the grown-up set, however, was ten years ago (Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life). This next one’s a memoir of sorts (I say “of sorts” because the subtitle belies this statement). Here’s the description:
“… each piece of prose is organized into classic subjects such as Social Studies, Music, and Language Arts. Because textbook would accurately describe a book with a first-of-its-kind interactive text messaging component. Because textbook is an expression meaning “quintessential”—Oh, that wordplay and unconventional format is so typical of her, so textbook AKR. Because if an author’s previous book has the word encyclopedia in the title, following it up with a textbook would be rather nice.”
Sorry Permanent Press Publishing Company. This cover doesn’t do justice the myriad children’s book references parading about inside. I read all the reviews and tried to find the best description (the official one is lame). Library Journal‘s was the one that piqued my interest best. As they said:
“Jonathan Tucker lives with his dog Nip on 20 acres on Long Island, having left his job with a high-powered law firm three years earlier after his wife and two children were killed in a traffic accident. Now his mentor, a senior partner, asks for help. The firm’s biggest client, billionaire Ben Baum of Ozone Industries, has died in London under suspicious circumstances. A descendant of L. Frank Baum of Wizard of Oz fame, Ben had been obsessed with fantasy, in particular the works of Baum, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Lewis Carroll. Attached to his will, he left behind an enigmatic letter, prefaced by runes and filled with puzzles hinting at forces of evil arrayed against him. It’s up to Jonathan and his team to unravel what may be a deadly conspiracy with a host of suspects, each one poised to benefit from Ben’s premature death. . . . Readers may enjoy the kid-lit nomenclature—characters include Alice, Charlotte (who spins webs), Dorothy, Eloise, Madeline, Herr Roald Dahlgrens (a “peach of a man”), Frank Dixon (the Hardy Boys), Peter Abelard, and the Baums—and may not mind the sometimes too-evident craft, e.g., characters who “tell their story” at length and dialog laden with exposition.”
Admit it. It sounds fun. But that cover . . . I mean, did they just hire someone who just read the title and found the nearest Getty Images of crows? No points there.
I feel like it’s been a while since one of these round-ups included a book about a picture book author/illustrator. This one counts. In this story, said picture book creator has lost her inspiration. Other stuff happens too, but with my tunnel vision that was pretty much all I picked up on.
Part of the joy of my job is buying the “cozies” i.e. sweet little murder mystery novels (usually in paperback). You would not believe the series out there. There are quilting mysteries, yoga mysteries, jam mysteries, bed and breakfast mysteries (that one makes sense to me), you name it. The newest series I’ve found? Little Free Library mysteries. I kid you not.
As for other mysteries . . .
Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering if this is actually a book about a murder that occurs at Misselthwaite Manor. And the answer is . . . . it’s not. No, it takes place at a book-themed resort where a secret garden has been created for the guests. How do folks die? Deadly herbs!! That gets points from me.
Oh ho! This one almost sneaked past me the other day. I read the review, dutifully put it in my order cart, and just as I was moving on to the next book my eye happened to catch the name of the author. Marjorie?! The same Marjorie who writes those magnificent yearly round-ups of Jewish kids in books at Tablet Magazine at the end of each year (to say nothing of her posts throughout the other seasons)? That’s her. The book’s getting great reviews too, so go, Marjorie, go!
So here’s the problem with this book. It should be in the humor section alongside the Amy Sedaris title Simple Times: Crafts for Poor People. Instead, it somehow ended up legitimately with a “Craft” Dewey Decimal Number, a fact I’m going to have to rectify at work tomorrow. Not that you couldn’t actually do the crafts if you wanted, but the book’s far funnier than it is practical. No one knows what to do with the thing when they see it, of course. So why am I including it here? Because darned if the author isn’t Ross MacDonald, the author/illustrator of fine picture books everywhere. I did my due diligence to make sure it was actually the same guy. Yup. It sure is. So Macmillan, about that DD# . . .
And finally, just because I thought it was cute . . .
Now someone go out and write a picture book of the same name for all our budding scientists out there.
Or is it?
Folks, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a library in possession of a summer reading program must produce a t-shirt of some kind. And generally speaking, it is usually a walking eyesore. Though I owe New York Public Library more than I can ever repay, I must confess that each and every summer I would receive my designated summer reading t-shirt. It would be size XXXXXL (it’s much easier to give all staff employees a t-shirt if you just make it one-size-fits-all), usually white, and sporting a design that generally looked better on paper than on a living human body.
When I moved to Evanston, IL, I expected more of the same. What I got was this:
There were multiple sizes. It was black (I still retain a New Yorker’s love for that slimming, you-can’t-see-dirt-on-me color). The design was in red. It was, to be frank, the most beautiful summer reading t-shirt I’d ever seen.
Which got me to thinking. I just sort of took it for granted that, like a kind of penance to the library gods above, all summer reading shirts were supposed to be unattractive. But maybe I was wrong from the start.
So here’s my challenge to you: Send me a picture of your summer reading shirt if it is more attractive than this one. Then I’ll compile the results and create a Summer Reading T-Shirt Fashion Show. Not only will this be a way you can give props to the design team of your local library, but it could give some libraries ideas for their own attractive summer reading t-shirt designs in the future.
All t-shirt designs may be sent to fusenumber8 at gmail dot com. Looking forward to them!
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, Best Books of 2016
, Reviews 2016
, 2016 middle grade fiction
, 2016 middle grade historical fiction
, 2016 reviews
, Adam Gidwitz
, Dutton Children's Books
, Hatem Aly
, middle grade fiction
, middle grade historical fiction
, Penguin Random House
, Add a tag
The Inquisitor’s Tale or, The Three Magical Children and Their Holy Dog
By Adam Gidwitz
Illuminated by Hatem Aly
Dutton Children’s Books (an imprint of Penguin Random House)
Ages 9 and up
On shelves September 27th
God’s hot this year.
To be fair, God has had some fairly strong supporters for quite some time. So if I’m going to clarify that statement a tad, God’s hot in children’s literature this year. Even then, that sentence is pretty vague. Here in America there are loads of Christian book publishers out there, systematically putting out title after title after title each and every year about God, to say nothing of publishers of other religions as well. Their production hasn’t increased hugely in 2016, so why the blanket statement? A final clarification, then: God is hot in children’s books from major non-Christian publishers this year. Ahhhh. That’s better. Indeed, in a year when serious literary consideration is being heaped upon books like John Hendrix’s Miracle Man, in walks Adam Gidwitz and his game changing The Inquisitor’s Tale. Now I have read my fair share of middle grade novels for kids, and I tell you straight out that I have never read a book like this. It’s weird, and unfamiliar, and religious, and irreligious, and more fun than it has any right to be. Quite simply, Gidwitz found himself a holy dog, added in a couple proto-saints, and voila! A book that’s part superhero story, part quixotic holy quest, and part Canterbury Tales with just a whiff of intrusive narration for spice. In short, nothing you’ve encountered in all your livelong days. Bon appétit.
The dog was dead to begin with. A greyhound with a golden muzzle that was martyred in defense of a helpless baby. As various pub goers gather in the year 1242 to catch a glimpse of the king, they start telling stories about this dog that came back from the dead, its vision-prone mistress (a peasant girl named Jeanne), a young monk blessed with inhuman strength (William, son of a lord and a North African woman), and a young Jewish boy with healing capabilities (Jacob). These three very different kids have joined together in the midst of a country in upheaval. Some see them as saints, some as the devil incarnate, and before this tale is told, the King of France himself will seek their very heads. An extensive Author’s Note and Annotated Bibliography appear at the end.
If you are familiar with Mr. Gidwitz’s previous foray into middle grade literature (the Grimm series) then you know he has a penchant for giving the child reader what it wants. Which is to say, blood. Lots of it. In his previous books he took his cue from the Grimm brothers and their blood-soaked tales. Here his focus is squarely on the Middle Ages (he would thank you not to call them “The Dark Ages”), a time period that did not lack for gore. The carnage doesn’t really begin in earnest until William starts (literally) busting heads, and even then the book feels far less sanguine than Gidwitz’s other efforts. I mean, sure, dogs die and folks are burned alive, but that’s pretty tame by Adam’s previous standards. Of course, what he lacks in disembowelments he makes up for with old stand-bys like vomit and farts. Few can match the man’s acuity for disgusting descriptions. He is a master of the explicit and kids just eat that up. Not literally of course. That would be gross. As a side note, he has probably included the word “ass” more times in this book than all the works of J.M. Barrie and Roald Dahl combined. I suspect that if this book is ever challenged in schools or libraries it won’t be for the copious entrails or discussions about God, but rather because at one point the word “ass” (as it refers to a donkey) appears three times in quick, unapologetic succession. And yes, it’s hilarious when it does.
So let’s talk religious persecution, religious fundamentalism, and religious tolerance. As I write this review in 2016 and politicians bandy hate speech about without so much as a blink, I can’t think of a book written for kids more timely than this. Last year I asked a question of my readers: Can a historical children’s book contain protagonists with prejudices consistent with their time period? Mr. Gidwitz seeks to answer that question himself. His three heroes are not shining examples of religious tolerance born of no outside influence. When they escape together they find that they are VERY uncomfortable in one another’s presence. Mind you, I found William far more tolerant of Jacob than I expected (though he does admittedly condemn Judaism once in the text). His dislike of women is an interesting example of someone rejecting some but not all of the childhood lessons he learned as a monk. Yet all three kids fear one another as unknown elements and it takes time and a mutually agreed upon goal to get them from companionship to real friendship.
As I mentioned at the start of this review, religion doesn’t usually get much notice in middle grade books for kids from major publishers these days. And you certainly won’t find discussions about the differences between Christianity and Judaism, as when the knight Marmeluc tries to determine precisely what it is to be Jewish. What I appreciated about this book was how Gidwitz distinguished between the kind of Christianity practiced by the peasants versus the kind practiced by the educated and rich. The peasants have no problem worshipping dogs as saints and even the local priest has a wife that everyone knows he technically isn’t supposed to have. The educated and rich then move to stamp out these localized beliefs which, let’s face it, harken back to the people’s ancestors’ paganism.
Race also comes up a bit, with William’s heritage playing a part now and then, but the real focus is reserved for the history of Christian/Jewish interactions. Indeed, in his wildly extensive Author’s Note at the end, Gidwitz makes note of the fact that race relations in Medieval Europe were very different then than today. Since it preceded the transatlantic slave trade, skin color was rare and contemporary racism remains, “the modern world’s special invention.” There will probably still be objections to the black character having the strength superpower rather than the visions or healing, but he’s also the best educated and intelligent of the three. I don’t think you can ignore that fact.
As for the writing itself, that’s what you’re paying your money for at the end of the day. Gidwitz is on fire here, making medieval history feel fresh and current. For example, when the Jongleur says that some knights are, “rich boys who’ve been to the wars . . . Not proper at all. But still rich,” that’s a character note slid slyly into the storytelling. Other lines pop out at you too. Here are some of my other favorites:
• About that Jongleur, “… he looks like the kind of child who has seen too much of life, who’s seen more than most adults. His eyes are both sharp and dead at the same time. As if he won’t miss anything, because he’s seen it all already.”
• “Jeanne’s mother’s gaze lingered on her daughter another moment, like an innkeeper waiting for the last drop of ale from the barrel tap.”
• “The lord and lady welcomed the knights warmly. Well, the lady did. Lord Bertulf just sat in his chair behind the table, like a stick of butter slowly melting.”
• “Inside her, grand castles of comprehension, models of the world as she had understood it, shivered.”
• And Gidwitz may also be the only author for children who can write a sentence that begins, “But these marginalia contradicted the text…” and get away with it.
Mind you, Gidwitz paints himself into a pretty little corner fairly early on. To rest this story almost entirely on the telling of tales in a pub, you need someone who doesn’t just know the facts of one moment or the next but who could claim to know our heroes’ interior life. So each teller comes to mention each child’s thoughts and feelings in the course of their tale. The nun in the book bears the brunt of this sin, and rather than just let that go Gidwitz continually has characters saying things like, “I want to know if I’m sitting at a table filled with wizards and mind readers.” I’m not sure if I like the degree to which Gidwitz keeps bringing this objection up, or if it detracts from the reading. What I do know is that he sort of cheats with the nun. She’s the book’s deux ex machina (or, possibly the diaboli ex machina) acting partly as an impossibility and partly as an ode to the author’s love of silver haired librarians and teachers out there with “sparkling eyes, and a knowing smile.”
Since a large portion of the story is taken up with saving books as objects, it fits that this book itself should be outfitted with all the beauties of its kind. If we drill down to the very mechanics of the book, we find ourselves admiring the subtleties of fonts. Every time a tale switches between the present day and the story being told, the font changes as well. But to do it justice, the story has been illuminated (after a fashion) by artist Hatem Aly. I have not had the opportunity to see the bulk of his work on this story. I do feel that the cover illustration of William is insufficiently gargantuan, but that’s the kind of thing they can correct in the paperback edition anyway.
Fairy tales and tales of saints. The two have far more in common than either would like to admit. Seen in that light, Gidwitz’s transition from pure unadulterated Grimm to, say, Lives of the Improbable Saints and Legends of the Improbable Saints is relatively logical. Yet here we have a man who has found a way to tie-in stories about religious figures to the anti-Semitism that is still with us to this day. At the end of his Author’s Note, Gidwitz mentions that as he finished this book, more than one hundred and forty people were killed in Paris by terrorists. He writes of Medieval Europe, “It was a time when people were redefining how they lived with the ‘other,’ with people who were different from them.” The echoes reverberate today. Says Gidwitz, “I can think of nothing sane to say about this except this book.” Sermonizers, take note.
On shelves September 27th.
Like This? Then Try:
I think we’ve all learned something here today. When it all comes down to it, and when all is said and done, summer reading t-shirts that are deeply attractive are rare, beautiful butterflies and that should be treasured and honored. Which is to say . . . .
ARE YOU READY FOR A SUMMER READING T-SHIRT FASHION SHOW?!?!
Of course you are.
As some of you may recall, last week I was bragging something fierce about my library’s shockingly attractive summer reading t-shirt. Here’s a group shot to give you a sense of what I mean.
Admit it. You’re just a teeny bit jealous. Because good looking t-shirts for summer reading are darn hard to find.
So to see how many good looking shirts are out there this year, I put it to the test. I made a hashtag (#summerreadtee) and asked readers to send me their shirts.
Now as some readers were quick to inform me, not every library system gives free summer reading t-shirts to its employees every year. To those libraries I offer my condolences. Not every system has the money to do the t-shirt thing. And after all, t-shirts in summer is a classic library trope!
Here then are the submissions for 2016.
First off, if you’re playing along at home then you know that the theme of summer reading this year is “Read for the Win”. That means sports sports sports. And to set this on the right note, here are the libraries that figured out how sports could equal attractive t-shirt wear.
We begin with Lincolnwood, IL, which is not too far from Evanston. Take note of the attractive blue and white design (complete with white stripes on the sleeves) as well as the fact that they CLEARLY gave their employees size choices. Now that is a library system that cares!
The dog is even wearing one. The dog. Thanks to Brita for the link.
Run across the country and you’ll see that Delaware Library had its own way of doing the sports theme:
Extra points for sending a picture taken at a parade. Thanks to Connie for the picture.
Next up, letting Multnomah County Library play is kind of like letting a college kid play baseball with a Pee-Wee League. That kid is just out of everyone else’s league. Case in point:
Sporty AND multi-lingual. Thanks to Kirby for the link.
Speaking of multi-lingual, we’ve a couple shirts that did that pretty darn well. First up, New Haven, CT went with my favorite color for a t-shirt: red. You honestly cannot go wrong with red, PARTICULARLY when you cover it in a variety of languages:
Thanks to Deborah Freedman for the link.
Worthington Libraries may win the ribbon for Cutest Submission:
And this next one is such a good idea. Just have a contest where the kids submit their designs and then turn the winner into t-shirts for one and all. How crazy wonderful would it feel for the kid who got ALL the library employees to wear their design? This one comes from the Beaumont Public Library System.
Thanks to Robin Smith for the link.
Carl of the Charlotte Mecklenburg Library had a whole host of t-shirts to share from over the years. For the sake of fairness, I’ve chosen only one. As I’ve said before, it’s hard to go wrong with black:
And I never specified that the shirts had to be from this year, after all. The Alamogordo Public Library of New Mexico came up with this shirt for last year’s superhero theme. “They came in rainbow colors, or with white print on black.”
Thanks to Ami Jones for the picture.
And finally, we’re going to let this last one in, even though it was submitted by a publisher and technically isn’t a real t-shirt. I’ll let Lara Starr explain:
“Christian Robinson created a lot of amazing art and objects for a joint summer reading program with San Francisco Public Library, Oakland Public Library and San Mateo County Library. Bookmarks! Badges! Bus Shelter Posters! BUT, they didn’t create Tshirts. BUT, that’s not gonna keep Chronicle Books from playin’! I Project Runway-ed one of the SPFL’s totes into a kicky halter top modeled by Associate Marketing Manager Jaime Wong. The top features Leo and Jane, the main characters of Robinson’s book Leo.”
Chronicle Books. Keepin’ it adorable.
Thanks for playing, everyone!
(but my library’s t-shirt is still the best)
There are advantages to living in New York City. Good museums. Lots of books and readers. The sweet morning aroma of hot garbage on the street to greet you at the break of day. Consumed in such a heady aroma it can be easy to forget that there are disadvantages to the city as well. Living in the center of the universe is all well and good but one has a tendency to forget that there is a UNIVERSE outside of that center. Pull yourself away from the gravity and you discover all sorts of interesting things.
This brings us to NerdCampMI.
Unfamiliar? Here’s a quick description of the conference from its website:
“Day 1 is much like a traditional education conference. We have scheduled speakers to get you all fired up about teaching reading and writing in the classroom. For more specifics on day 1, please visit the page by clicking the link to your left.
Day 2 of nErDcamp is designed differently than your typical conference. It’s an (un)conference with a focus on literacy in learning.”
What they don’t mention is that this is very much a school-based event. Which is to say, school librarians (a few) and school teachers (the bulk) attend this event en masse. This makes a great deal of sense, of course. Prior to the creation of NerdCampMI and the corresponding Nerdy Book Club, there was a need for a large scale site dedicated to people working within the educational system.
Now like a lot of folks in NYC I’d heard about this phenomena. Phenomenon? Phenomeniacal? At any rate, it was like pulling teeth finding people who’d been. In spite of the fact that the con tends to pull in 1500 attendees, the majority appear to come from the Midwest.
And yet, this wasn’t everyone.
Now I’m a public, rather than a school, librarian. That means that my contact with teachers is entirely reliant on this blog. Yet I’d never met a teacher who had attended, though I had met the occasional author.
It was time to rectify the situation. Oh ye folks around the country who hear about NerdCamp from time to time and think, “You mean Nerdcon? No? Camp? Wait, is that the huge thing in Parma, MI?” I am here to report and tell all.
Once, long ago, oh best beloved, I ran a conference. It was the Kidlitosphere Conference and I led it out of the main branch of New York Public Library. It was, insofar as I can recall, a success. With the exception of one Skype session, all the tech worked. It was free, like NerdCamp. There was a lot of swag, like NerdCamp. But there were significantly less people. If we’re looking at the number of children’s literature bloggers in the country vs. the number of teachers in the country, that’s par for the course, but my point is that my con was pretty small and relatively easy. It was also not an unconference, an element that I feel ups the difficulty factor tenfold. So when I walked in yesterday morning for Day One (Day Two is the unconference part and that’s actually happening right now) I didn’t quite know what to expect. I expected registration. I did not expect the epic-ly long swag line.
Nor did I expect that my favorite children’s bookstore BookBug would be the one selling titles. Hooray, Bookbug! Hooray too to the fact that they were carrying my picture book. I was not expecting that.
We all filed into a large gym where bleachers served as the seats for the massive group in attendance.
Once we were all seated we were ready for a series of small talks from a variety of different speakers. Each one spoke no longer than about 5 minutes apiece. And each one had a very specific topic they wanted to address.
Colby Sharp was the one who officially started off the day, but not with a long history of Nerdy Book Club and its accomplishments, as you might expect. Instead, he started in almost immediately with the story of Heidi, a small girl who lost all her books in a fire. After she thanked the audience members for replacing her library it was time for the first speaker.
Educator Kathy Burnett came up to the music of “My Shot” from Hamilton. Knowing her audience, she began her talk with a shout-out to Gilmore Girls. And let that be a lesson to you, oh future speakers. Mention GG at the top of any speech to librarians or teachers and the response is instantaneous.
Proving that my generation is now the one in charge of the universe, Kathy also made statements like “I read Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret, and I DID those chest exercises” (which got a lot of appreciation) followed up with knowledge that by reading V.C. Andrews you learn to avoid powdered donuts. But for the most part she spoke on a personal level about how books were a way to escape from the world when she was a child and her teachers became her surrogate parents. The speech ended with “I Rise” by Maya Angelou. It got a standing ovation.
By the way, I’m soliciting guesses on the background behind the speakers. I’m going to say that the high school was doing a production of The Wizard of Oz.
Teri Lesesne was next and she began by referencing a Richard Peck article about censorship, which was the focus of her talk. She talked at length about “censorship in all its forms” including disinvitations of authors to schools. The Phil Bildner and Kate Messner incident was mentioned (someone clapped during it and without missing a beat Teri said, “You can’t clap. This is timed.”). She then urged everyone to read Kate Milford’s continuing dialogue with the teacher responsible in some way for her disinvitation. There was an interesting moment when Teri said something along the lines of, “Gatekeeping is an insidious form of censorship”, which I am paraphrasing and which made me wish she had a lot more time to unpack that statement. I wouldn’t make “gatekeeping” a dirty word, necessarily, but I’m open to learning more about why some people think it is. In relation to this, Teri talked about books that are simply not purchased for libraries. Of course there are differences between public librarians and school ones. I guess I’d never thought much about school librarian issues of this sort. It reminded me of that recent debate between Roger Sutton and Daniel Jose Older about the librarian’s role and when you do and don’t deny a kid access to a book. Teri ended by quoting Liberian peace activist Leyman Gbowee: “You can never leave footprints if you always walk on tiptoe”, stressing finally that every kid should see that they’re not alone.
Raina Telgemeier followed and hers was a very personal talk. Raina discussed a time when she was young and was “the artist” in class. She was quiet and had a hard time making friends, so her art was a way to stand out. Then she met a boy named Shawn who could also draw. They could both do TMNT and The Simpsons. Naturally she had a huge crush on him. And so if you read her best known book Smile, he’s the boy in it (this is where I wish that Shaun were Shaun Tan, by the way). In the intervening years lots of girls have since written and asked if she married “Shawn”, or (at the very least) if he knows he was immortalized. Raina points out to them that most 36-year-old men do not seek out her art on their own. Fast forward a little. Raina was still friends with Shawn (not his real name) on Facebook. Then, last year, he got Lou Gehrig’s Disease. Raina wanted to help out in some way, but since Shawn and his family are quiet, private people she was limited in what she could do. Then she learned he was in hospice. Near the end, he just wanted people to share memories of him. So she told him at long last about the book, his role in it, and she sent him a copy with a letter of thanks. He loved it, and his nephews were thrilled that a book they already knew had their uncle in it. Shawn passed away in April of this year and Raina attended his memorial a few weeks ago. There she learned that apparently an item on Shawn’s bucket list was to become a character in a comic book. Mission accomplished. It was a nice heartfelt speech.
Now because I don’t know my average famous teachers, the name Pernille Ripp (@pernilleripp) was unknown to me. No longer. A grade teacher in WI, some speculation was made later as to whether or not she has copious experience with Poetry Slams. Such was the energy of her talk. Pernille dove right in, recounting that it was exactly 4 seconds into the new school year (last fall) before a kid in her class loudly declared how much they hated reading. You know the type. “You say reading and they cannot wait to say loudly how much they hate it . . . because this is how they identify.” These students beg you, “please don’t tell me I just haven’t met the right book yet, because that’s what ALL the teachers say.” This is, to Ms. Ripp’s mind, a pernicious problem, “because when they hate reading . . . then it just doesn’t matter what kind of strategies I am trying to teach them.” Nothing matters. “When they hate reading then that is all they can think about”. Then everything in school is attached to something they hate. “And I get it. Why would you want to do something more of something they despise.” Her advice to combat this? When you get a kid who says they don’t like to read, don’t say “no you don’t”. Try asking, “Why?” “We won’t know until we ask. A question is all we need.” Asking and talking and digging is important. “Hating reading is not their end destination.” One of her more controversial statements was that if a reading program is making even one child hate reading then that program should be ended. Interesting! Another good line regarding generations of people who don’t like to read, “Along with their genetic heritage they will also pass on their hatred of school and books.” A great talk.
Also very good? Donalyn Miller (@donalynbooks) . Shared a NerdyBookClub post that she wrote last November, The House That Reading Built which you should probably read rather than allow me to summarize. Just the same, part of what I liked about it so much was its acknowledgment of socio-economic status and disparity. “I grew up clinging to the lowest middle class rung”. In the piece Donalyn explains how both she “grew up on her library card”, as did her husband. I appreciated that she acknowledged her white privilege in spite of class burdens and took time to mentions how so many children of poverty, disproportionately of color, grow up without easy access to books. As she then pointed out, diversity in publishing isn’t just about the publishing itself. Publishing more diverse authors and illustrators only takes us so far if children do not have access to these books. Book access is the gamechanger for our children. It means that all books should accurately reflect their experiences and the experiences of children with different stories to tell and give access to “the promise” that literacy provides. The division and hatred scrolling across our screens these days can fill us with impotence and despair. Literacy, therefore, is the way to help all of us write a different story.
Then there was a special guest in town. Three guesses who it was and the first two don’t count.
Yep, peeking above that podium there is special guest Kate DiCamillo. And the crowd, naturally, goes crazy. In an interesting twist Kate told a very fun story about an incident from her youth involving a wishing bone (how William Steig!), a girl next door with purple lipstick, and a pony. It had a lot of good lines too like the fact that the girl next door was named Beverly Pagoda and, “I was forever trying to impress her and I had yet to succeed.” Also, “It was summer. I was 8-years-old. My heart was a small motor humming in my chest.” I liked that she said that the art of writing is what Raymond Chandler called “being at your station”. Of course as she was talking about what you can’t find in a writing manual, one could not help but think that should she ever want to write one, she could potentially write the children’s book version of Bird by Bird.
Then it was time for my session. Did I not mention I was speaking at this event? Oh yes! And look at my cohorts:
Travis whipped that one up. Isn’t it nice?
Mind you, I’m a bit shaky on reading schedules so this is what I saw when I looked us up. Mine is the one that says “Nibling” on it:
Oh no!, thinks I. I’m speaking about 9/11? Then I looked at the top of the page.
Oh! That makes more sense.
By the way, this was in our room on the wall. I adored it.
I recap my talk but I’m absolutely terrible about that sort of thing. Fortunately my panelists were enormously talented bloggers so I’m just going to hope that one or both of them write it up themselves and I’ll be able to link to it here.
For the next session, it was a tricky choice (as you can see from the form). In the end I decided to sit in on “Author Jeopardy”, hosted by the writer Erica Perl.
It was a nice crew of authors too. There was author Melanie Conklin who’d written Counting Thyme. There was The Entirely True Story of the Unbelievable Fib author, Adam Shaughnessy. There was the writer behind Gertie’s Leap to Greatness (Kate Beasley) who is from Georgia and is damned adorable. She had cute shoes and mentioned (on an unrelated note) that her family farm has 120 miniature cows. Extra points to Adam then for jumping in to ask, “Is that where those school milks come from?” Nice. Kelly Barnhill was there to discuss The Girl Who Drank the Moon. At one point the conversation turned to Skype visits and Kelly said she would occasionally have the kids talk to her new puppy Sirius Black or her truly disgusting guinea pig Günter. Which, right there. That’s a book. Erica S. Perl herself talked about her upcoming The Capybara Conspiracy, calling it a book, a novel, and a play all in one. Author John David Anderson of Ms. Bixby’s Last Day is actually the author I’m reading right now at this exact moment in time. And, if I might say so, his latest book has a KILLER first chapter. He described it as “The Holy Grail meets Stand By Me meets Mr. Hollin’s Opus meets . . . . cheesecake.” And finally there was YA author Aimee Carter who has written her first middle grade book in a series. The book was actually very interesting to me. It’s called Simon Thorn and the Wolf’s Den and damned if it doesn’t look a lot like those books that came out around the time Harry Potter was hot. We haven’t seen a book like this in a long time. I’ll be watching its progress with interest.
The audience was pretty big and when they asked questions they asked good practical ones, how the authors connect with kids when they Skype into a classroom.
This left the final session of the day and it was a tricky choice. Do you want to see Raina Telgemeier draw from audience suggestions or Kate DiCamillo in conversation with Mr. Schu? For me, I wanted to see the aforementionedTeri and Donalyn in action. Their topic:
Taking CARE of readers: Choice (and community), Access, Response, Engagement
And what happens? I walk in and hear them asking the audience a question: Who was the first Latino to win a Newbery? Due to the fact that like a Pavlovian dog I cannot not listen to a question about children’s literature trivia without needing to be the one to answer it RIGHT NOW, I put my hand up like a fool and declared “Paula Fox” loud and proud. Which won me a bag of goodies by accident. Oops. I just wanted to answer it SOOO MUCH!!
The gist of this final talk was about the nitty gritty aspects of getting kids to identify as readers. Folks talk so much about getting the skill set down but they don’t spend much time discussing how to get kids to the self-identify as reading kids.
First off, the two presenters gave us their “reading audiobiography” over the years, in brief. And somehow or other, Teri managed to find a real Fabio cover called Love’s Secret Sniper for the talk. Extra points for that.
These days, the two women are now what you might call Free-Range Readers, reading whatever interests them. In fact, they aren’t afraid to recommend the occasional adult book. For example, at one point they gave a shout out to The Unpersuadables by Will Stork, which sounded absolutely fascinating. In this book the author examines why it is that otherwise intelligent people are so willing to discount research. Donalyn has seen firsthand that you can tell people how reading is important and yet they won’t believe it even if you have the fact at your disposal. Why is that? Turns out, people will jettison beliefs to be part of a group that is important to them. Ignorance is tribalism in these cases, where the deniers of one thing or another find supportive friends. That is FASCINATING! I always love it when a person applies an adult book to the world in which we live and work. Now I have to find this book.
Going back to the reading autobiography, creating one can be a great thing to do with students. When they hand them in to you (the teacher) and you look at them, can you identify the engaged readers and the ones who aren’t engaged “yet”? And really, do books belong to me or do I belong to books or is it some kind of symbiotic relationship?
So how do we best demonstrate our love of reading to our kids (both to your students and, I’d say to your own kids). Donalyn says that passion is key. But if you don’t like reading, they won’t either.
This led to another book recommendation: Voices of Readers: How We Come to Love Books by Carlsen and Sherrill. The book examines the common experiences in building readers in the early grades through high school. It’s out of print (pub date 1988)but you can actually just download the entire text. The truth is that when it lists all the factors that make a reader, they sound awfully familiar. Owning books, sharing them with friends, setting time aside for it, teachers reading aloud, discussions, and receiving help from librarians all are there.
Then we got into the nitty gritty of it all. Stand back for . . .
Factors Affecting Reading Identity
They are . . .
- Role models at home and school
- Access to books
- Choice of reading materials
I won’t delve into what all was said about these points, but Teri and Donalyn did say that their slides will be up on SlideShare and that they’ll post a link on their Twitter accounts soon.
Actually, I will latch on to one of their points, and it’s something I was thinking about a lot at this conference. As Donalyn was careful to point out, diversity is more than just a hashtag. In her talk she gave the history of #WeNeedDiverseBooks (or #WNDB) with Teri also mentioning that it includes body image and socioeconomic status (YES!). And Teri said straight out that it’s not enough to get all the Pura Belpre and CSK titles in your school or classroom library. Donalyn: “The broader our collections are the more likely we are to invite readers into the communities we are trying to build”.
Since I didn’t attend that many discussions, it’s possible that We Need Diverse Books and diversity in general was covered in other sessions too. Still, I was a bit disappointed to find that only one of the first speakers of the day (Donalyn again) mentioned it at the start of the conference.
Now let’s bring it back a bit. Let’s talk about outside perceptions of NerdCampMI. One concern that I’ve heard from others about the conference in the past is how white it is. White in terms of the speakers and the books and authors and the attendees. So let’s unpack that.
First off, it’s true that very few people of color were attending the conference as attendees. There were some, but even from my group shots you can pretty much see that it was somewhat white. I don’t know how NerdCampMI organizes or if they make tweaks each and every year. Nor do I know what goes on behind the scenes. If I were to guess, I’d say that reaching out to teachers of color is definitely slated for the old To Do list. As for the books, there were authors of color like Tracey Baptiste, Minh Le, and others, and there were speakers like Kathy Burnette. Again, efforts have been made in those areas, but there’s some room for improvement. Fortunately, as Donalyn proved, there’s clearly the inclination and the drive to be inclusive.
This is, as I say, just a recap of Day One. For the Day Two unconference you’ll need to look for someone else reporting from the scene.
Many thanks to Colby Sharp and Travis and Minh for letting me present and visit NerdCampMI for the first time. Thanks to the people I met and the sessions I attended.
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, British picture books
, children's literature conferences
, Christine Inzer
, Dr. Carla Hayden
, Evan Turk
, J.K. Rowling
, Joanna Rudge Long
, Lady Elaine Fairchilde
, Little Free Library
, Lois Duncan
, Mazza Museum
, Mitali Perkins
, New Podcast Alert
, Pat the Bunny
, sassy clocks
, Where's Waldo?
, Add a tag
Hi, folks. Haven’t done one of these in a while. Let’s see what there is to see.
If I’m feeling nostalgic for NYC this week there’s little wonder. Whether it’s an article on many library branches’ secret apartments (I visited 8-10 of them in my day and someday a clever photographer should do a series on them) or New York Magazine’s (justifiable) kvetching over the new Donnell, it’s like I’m there again.
Speaking of kvetching, this article about My Little Free Library War is amusing. When I was leaving the aforementioned NYC I found I had too many books. The solution? Daily trips to the local Little Free Library. I’d fill them up one day and then come back the next with more. I don’t care what anyone did with them. That box was like Mary Poppins’ carpetbag.
Waldo’s cool with it. He doesn’t mind sharing the spotlight.
As for my current town, how cute is this? Our downtown is doing a Where’s Waldo / Where’s Warhol scavenger hunt. It all begins at the wonderful bookstore Bookends and Beginnings and goes from there.
This next piece is fantastic and I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. A British children’s literature blogger comes to America. Walks into a Barnes and Noble. Immediately she is struck by the massive differences between how a major British chain (like Waterstones) sells children’s books vs. how and American chain (B&N) does it. She writes up the differences in the post Picture book differences between the main bookshop chains in the US and UK – Paeony Lewis. What struck me as particularly interesting is the emphasis the author makes on how American bookstores don’t promote and sell paperbacks to the same degree that the British stores do. As a result, our books are more expensive. What are the greater repercussions of this? Fantastic read.
I got the following message from ALA last week and figured this was a good place to share. Ahem:
Now is the Best Time to Help Dr. Carla Hayden Become Librarian of Congress
The American Library Association (ALA) is urging the library community to contact their U.S. senators (before they adjourn next week) to encourage them to confirm Dr. Carla Hayden to become the next Librarian of Congress. This is the first time in more than 60 years that a librarian is poised to take on this role. ALA offers these talking points. Visit the ALA Legislative Action Center to email your senators, contact them on Twitter, or for information on calling your senators.
There’s been a lot of talk about Ms. J.K. Rowling in the news lately. Specifically, in terms of the international magic schools she’s been introducing. I feel inadequate to speak about them, and fortunately I don’t have to. Monica Edinger has written a great piece called J.K. Rowling’s Unfortunate Attempts at Globalization. A lot of people have focused solely and squarely on the references to Native Americans in the American school. Monica sheds additional light on the African, Japanese, and Brazilian ones, for which I am VERY grateful.
By the way, having problems with J.K. Rowling in this vein is hardly new. You can read Farah Mendelsohn’s academic paper Crowning the King: Harry Potter and the Construction of Authority from 2001 right now, if you like.
By the way, if you missed Jules Danielson’s interview with Evan Turk over at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, turn right around, leave this blog, and go over there. The art . . . the art . . .
For a while there I enjoyed a little Reading Too Much Into Picture Books series before my Fuse 8 TV interviews. Very much along the same lines is the recent Salon piece Pat the Bunny Is Kind of Twisted and Other Lessons I Learned from Picture Books. It’s not the same three tropes garbled over and over again. There’s a lot of smart stuff being said here. Enjoy!
Wait, what . . . The Mazza Museum has a summer conference? Why was I not informed? *clap clap* My chariot! The first day is July 18th. There’s still time!
There are many reasons to listen to the NYPL podcast The Librarian Is In. Reason #24601: Check out this simply adorable photograph of a young Lois Duncan.
Hey there! What Nibling just won herself a 2016 South Asia Book Award? Would that be Mitali Perkins for her absolutely fantastic Tiger Boy? Dang right it would! Go, Mitali, go!
Because my day job requires me to keep up with adult literature I read a lot of Publishers Weekly (that sounded like a very earnest television or radio ad for PW, by the way). The other day I was reading its articles on what Brexit is going to mean for the literary world, and I briefly toyed with the notion of doing a blog post on what it would mean for the children’s literary world. I decided not to pursue this idea since I know next to nothing about the topic and while that normally wouldn’t stop me, Phil Nel did it best anyway. Check out his piece Children’s Lit VS Brexit.
Curious about the Boston Globe-Horn Book Award? Want to know more about it? Interested in reading an interview with a woman who would visit Anne Carroll Moore in the library as a child? You can get all that and more with this interview with this year’s BGHB committee chair Joanna Rudge Long.
Um… so this one has nothing to do with children’s books and everything to do with my own childhood. Basically, if you’ve been waiting for an article to justify Lady Elaine Fairchilde as the feminist icon she truly was, your prayers have been answered. Extra Bonus: Check out the perhaps indeed legit comment from Lady Aberline. Or read my piece on the new Lady Elaine. Clearly this is a trope in my life.
Just want to give a shout-out to Christine Inzer, the self-published teen graphic novelist whose book Halfway Home was reviewed here in 2014. Christine got herself a real publisher and her new book just earned a stellar review from Publishers Weekly. Yay, Christine!
New Podcast Alert: In case you are unfamiliar with it, The Writing Barn is the brainchild of Owner & Creative Director, Bethany Hegedus, and offers writers “ways of deepening their process and perfecting their craft, whether they travel cross-town or across the country to our retreat and workshop venue”. Now Bethany has created Porchlight, a podcast that interviews the Barn’s guests as well as folks in the world at large. You know I’ll be listening.
Best. Library. Clock. Ever.
Seriously, I want to do this with picture books. If not in my library then in my home. I should solicit the right titles, though. Hmmm…
This is so neat that I wish I could apply for it myself. I cannot, but if you’re a member of ALSC, you could (you lucky thing).
The Association for Library Service to Children (ALSC) is seeking a personal member interested in representing ALA/ALSC on the United States Board on Books for Young People (USBBY).
One representative will be selected by the ALA Executive Board to serve a two-year term from January 1, 2017 through December 31, 2018. If you are interested in representing ALA/ALSC on the USBBY Board, please complete the online application (http://bit.ly/29S9ojN) and submit a cover letter addressed to the ALA Executive Board, a resume/CV, and one letter of recommendation no later than Tuesday, September 6, 2016.
The applicant must:
* Be a current ALSC personal member
* Have demonstrated experience in evaluating, selecting and promoting children’s literature
* Attend all USBBY meetings and conferences during his/her term of appointment. Expenses to attend USBBY meetings/conferences are the responsibility of the individual or his/her institution. USBBY, ALA and ALSC do not provide financial support
* Have knowledge of key ALSC services and resources in order to serve as an effective liaison between USBBY and ALSC’s Board of Directors
* Be a competent user of new technologies, such as wikis and electronic chat platforms, in order to accomplish work in a virtual environment between meetings
* Have demonstrated leadership skills necessary to serve on an organization’s board of directors
Responsibilities of USBBY board members
- Attend and participate in the three annual board meetings (typically in February at CBC in New York City; in June at the ALA annual conference; and in October/November at the IBBY Regional Conference (in odd numbered years) or the NCTE conference (in even numbered years).
- Submit USBBY news to newsletters, journals, web sites, and electronic discussion lists of related organizations.
- Recruit new members, nurture current members, and make the Board and Nominating Committee aware of potentially active committee members or volunteers.
- Serve as the official liaison between ALSC and USBBY 5. Assist with planning USBBY board meetings at conferences 6. Assist with planning USBBY co-sponsored programs at conferences
The ALA Executive Board requires that suggestions for nominations be accompanied by a resume/CV and cover letter which indicates:
* A short summary statement of the nominee’s qualifications and indication of present position
* Affirmation that the person can fulfill the meeting attendance and travel requirements
Additionally, the ALSC Board requires:
* A letter of recommendation
* Sept. 6 2016: deadline to submit online application and resume to ALSC for consideration
* Sept. 6- 23, 2016: ALSC’s Board of Directors evaluates applications and selects one applicant to recommend to the ALA Executive Board for appointment
* Week of Sept. 26, 2016: ALSC notifies applicants as to the status of their application
* Early October: ALA Executive Board meets and considers ALSC’s recommendation
* Week of October 24, 2016: ALSC notifies nominee of ALA Executive Board’s decision
* Jan. 1, 2017: Appointee begins representation on USBBY Board
2017 USBBY Board Meetings:
* March 3, 2017: Representatives First 2017 USBBY Board meeting
* June 22, 2017: Chicago during ALA Conference
* October 19, 2017: Seattle just before the IBBY Regional Conference
To learn more about USBBY go to www.usbby.org/<http://www.usbby.org/>.
Please contact Aimee Strittmatter (firstname.lastname@example.org<mailto:email@example.com>) for questions about the ALSC application process.
Aimee Strittmatter, MSI, CAE
Association for Library Service to Children a division of the American Library Association
50 East Huron Street
Chicago, IL 60611
312-280-2163 | fax: 312-280-5271
By: Betsy Bird
Blog: A Fuse #8 Production
(Login to Add to MyJacketFlap
, Reviews 2016
, 2016 picture book readalouds
, 2016 picture books
, 2016 reviews
, Ashley Wolff
, Christee Curran-Bauer
, Danny Adlerman
, Dar (Hosta)
, Jim Babjak
, Kevin Kammeraad
, Kim Adlerman
, Leeza Hernandez
, Lindsay Barrett George
, Megan Halsey
, Pat Cummings
, picture book readalouds
, picture book song books
, Ralph Masiello
, Symone Banks
, The Kids at Our Home
, Wendy Anderson Halperin
, Add a tag
View Next 25 Posts
A Toucan Can, Can You?
By Danny Adlerman
Illustrated by Lindsay Barrett George, Megan Halsey, Ashley Wolff, Demi, Ralph Masiello, Wendy Anderson Halperin, Kevin Kammeraad, Pat Cummings, Dar (Hosta), Leeza Hernandez, Christee Curran-Bauer, Kim Adlerman, and Symone Banks
Music by Jim Babjak
The Kids at Our House Children’s Books
On shelves now
Under normal circumstances I don’t review sequels. I just don’t, really. Sequels, generally speaking, require at least a rudimentary knowledge of the preceding book. If I have to spend half a review catching a reader up on the book that came before the book that I’m actually reviewing, that’s just a waste of everyone’s time. Better to skip sequels entirely, and I include chapter book sequels, YA sequels, middle grade sequels, nonfiction sequels, graphic novel sequels, and easy book sequels in that generalization. I would even include picture book sequels, but here I pause for a moment. Because once in a while a picture book sequel will outshine the original. Such is the case with Danny Adlerman’s audibly catchy and visually eclectic A Toucan Can, Can You? A storyteller’s (and song-and-dance parent’s) dream, the book is is a sequel to the book How Much Wood Could a Woodchuck Chuck but comes into its own as a writing assignment for some, a storytime to others, and a darn good book for everybody else.
Many of us are at least passingly familiar with that old poem, “How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” But why stop with the woodchuck? What other compound words can you break up in amusing ways? And so we are sucked into a delightful world of teaspoons spooning tea, spaceships shipping space, and ice cream screaming “ice!” Each one of these catchy little poems (which are set to music on the accompanying CD) is paired with art from an impressive illustrator. Part collaboration and part exercise in audible frivolity, Danny Adlerman’s little book packs a great big punch.
For a group collaboration to work in a picture book there needs to be a reason for it to even exist. Which is to say, why have different people do different pieces of art for the same book? To best justify bringing these artists together you need a strong hook. And brother, I can’t think of a stronger hook then a catchy little rhyme, turned into a song, and given some clever additional rhymes to go along with it. Let’s hear it for the public domain! It’s little wonder that the customary “Note to Parents and Teachers” found in books of this sort appears at the beginning of the book rather than the end. In it, mention is made of the fact that the accompanying CD has both music with the lyrics and music without the lyrics, allowing kids to make up their own rhymes. I can attest as someone who did storytimes for toddlers and preschoolers for years that music can often be a librarian’s best friend. Particularly if it has a nice little book to show off as well. So for the storytimes for younger children, go with the words. And for the older kids? I think a writing assignment is waiting in the wings.
I was quite taken with the rhymes that already exist in this book, though. In fact, my favorite (language-wise) might have to be “How much bow could a bow tie tie if a bow tie could tae bo?” if only because “tae bo” makes shockingly few cameos in picture books these days. Finding the perfect collaboration between word and text can be difficult but occasionally the book hits gold. One example would be on the rhyme “How much ham could a hamster stir if a hamster could stir ham?” Artist Leeza Hernandez comes up with a rough riding hamster in cowboy gear astride an energetic hog. Two great tastes that taste great together.
Obviously the problem with any group collaboration is that some pieces are going to be stronger than others. But I have to admit that when I looked at that line-up I was a bit floored. In an impressive mix of established artists and new up-and-comers, Adlerman pairs his illustrators alongside rhymes that best show off their talents. Demi, for example, with her meticulous details and intricate style, is perfectly suited to honeycombs, honey, and the thin veins in the wing of a honeybee, holding a comb aloft. Meanwhile Wendy Anderson Halperin tackles the line “How much paint could a paintbrush brush” by rendering a variety of famous works, from Magritte to Diego Rivera in her two-page spread. Mind you, some artists are more sophisticated than others, and the switch between styles threatens to give one a bit of whiplash in the process. Generally speaking, however, it’s lovely. And I must confess that it was only on my fourth or fifth reading that I realized that the lovely scene illustrated by newcomer Symone Banks at the end of the book is dotted with animals done by the other artists, hidden in the details.
I don’t have to do storytimes anymore. In my current job my contact with kids is fairly minimal. But I have a two-year-old and a five-year-old at home and that means all my performance skills are on call whenever those two are around. I admit it. I need help. And books like A Toucan Can: Can You? can be lifesavers to parents like myself. If we had our way there would be a book-of-the-week club out there that personally delivered song-based picture books to our door. Heck, it should be a book-of-the-DAY club. I mean, let’s be honest. Raise a glass then and toast to Danny Adlerman and his fabulous friends. Long may their snowshoes shoo, their jellyfish fish, and their rockhoppers hop hop hop.
On shelves now.
Like This? Then Try:
Source: Galley sent from author for review.