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Title: Dealing with Dragons
Author: Patricia C. Wrede
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Age Category: 10+
Fantasy for Young Female Readers
Sixteen-year-old Cimorene is tired of being a princess. She is fed up with embroidery lessons and etiquette and arranged marriages, and would much rather study magic and sword fighting and Latin. So when a talking frog suggests that she run away from home, that’s just what Cimorene does. Before long, she finds herself gainfully (albeit dangerously) employed as a dragon’s princess, sorting treasure and brushing up on her Latin and trying out spells to her heart’s content. But life in the Mountains of Morning isn’t all fun and games–obnoxious, dimwitted knights keep trying to rescue Cimorene, and evil wizards have been popping up all sorts of places they’re not supposed to be. Everyone knows wizards can’t be trusted; clearly, some sort of nefarious plot is afoot. With the assistance of an amusingly down-to-earth witch, a rather timid princess, and a stone prince, Cimorene must figure out what the wizards are up to, and stop them, before it’s too late.
Where do you turn when you’ve read all the classic fairy tales but haven’t yet had your fill of princesses, dragons, witches, genies, enchanted princes, and daring rescues? Welcome to the world of Patricia C. Wrede’s Enchanted Chronicles. While Cimorene and her friends and enemies are all new creations, the story is set in the existing fairytale-verse–the characters chat amiably about their various relatives and acquaintances Sleeping Beauty, George the Dragon Slayer, Jack (of Beanstalk fame), and Cinderella. But Wrede gleefully abandons the somber tone of these well-known tales, opting instead for tasteful touches of tongue-in-cheek humor that are somehow both pronounced and subtle. This is not a broad send-up of fairy tales, but an affectionate embellishment of a beloved genre. In other words, less Monty Python and more Neil Gaiman.
In many ways, Wrede does for the world of fairy tales what Rowling did for the world of magic–she draws our attention to the fact that in a world where reality itself is fantastic, the fantastic becomes . . . mundane. Just as Harry and Ron had to do their Potions homework and study for Charms exams and shop for school supplies, princesses in Wrede’s world are taught how loudly they may scream when being carried off by a giant, and knights must follow a particular script in challenging a dragon to a duel, lest the dragon be offended by their impertinently casual form of address. Characters discuss, at length, the difficulty of choosing an appropriate gift to bring to a dragon’s coronation, and what portion of one’s kingdom should be offered as a reward to the man who rescues a princess from danger. A character is derided for being so foolish as to undertake a certain task even though he is not a seventh son. And so on. The end result is a thoroughly charming and delightful read.
Cimorene is a princess who would make any feminist proud. If The Paper Bag Princess managed to avoid the temptation to bitterness and misandry, she might well have grown up to be Cimorene. Dissatisfied with her feminine lot, she persuades her father’s various retainers to teach her fencing, cooking, magic, and Latin. When faced with an undesired arranged marriage (and after an unsuccessful attempt to convince her parents that it’s a bad idea), she takes control of her future, thereby discovering a career that suits her down to the ground. Rather than simply complaining about the injustice of her circumstances, she rolls up her sleeves and changes them. Once she’s settled in with the dragons, she straightforwardly (but politely) dismisses any and all knights (or princes) who wish to rescue her, insisting that she does not need to be rescued, but is quite happy with her life choices. She is loyal and brave and helpful and patient. She is not hostile or disrespectful to men; she is simply competent and content without their assistance. Sure, she is stubborn and occasionally (as when she runs away from home) disobedient, but she is rarely if ever rude or disrespectful or condescending to those who challenge her independence or who are not interested in seizing such independence for themselves. In an encounter with some of the other dragon’s princesses, she is frustrated by their attitude but unfailingly polite in her treatment of them. Where her sisters simper stupidly and whine when they don’t get their way, Cimorene is intelligent, innovative, hardworking, and possessed of more than her fair share of common sense. She thinks for herself, speaks her mind, and stands up for what she believes in, but she also knows when to keep her mouth shut and doesn’t get sucked into unproductive arguments. She never comes across as brassy, shrill, harsh, or obnoxious. And at the end of the day, it is Cimorene who, with her friends, saves the day.
As role models go, young female readers could do a lot worse than Cimorene. She sets an example not only in her accomplishments, but in her character. In Cimorene, young readers learn that being an admirable woman isn’t just about pushing boundaries and not letting ‘the Man’ put you in a box. It’s also about conducting yourself with grace and dignity, caring for and respecting others, and generally behaving like an honorable human being.
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Clara Dooley leads a quiet, lonely life. A serious heart condition has kept her indoors for years, far away from other children who might excite her. Instead, she spends her days in the Glendoveer Mansion, where her mother works as a housekeeper for the frail (and ailing) Mrs. Glendoveer, an elderly widow who is still reeling from the sudden deaths of her five children decades before . . . and from the kidnapping of the sixth and youngest child, Elliot. Now all Mrs. Glendoveer has is a crumbling mansion filled with memories, and an aviary inhabited by a rather motley assortment of extremely long-lived birds. The birds scare Clara with their persistent screeching, and never more so than the fateful day when the mynah calls out to her and speaks one word: ‘Elliot.’ With that, Clara and her newfound (and secret) friend Daphne are off and running (so to speak) after the mystery of the Glendoveer children—the resolution of which may endanger Clara herself.
Any story centered around an aviary should absolutely preserve the stately-yet-unsettling sensation that characterizes the best Gothic literature, and this book is no exception. The year is 1905, and the Dooleys (and Glendoveers) live in a gloriously decrepit mansion near Lockhaven Bay on the coast of Maine. There are rose gardens, and an aviary (obviously), and a cellar, and an attic, and a secret passageway (of sorts), and an opinionated cook, and a historical society, and a serious heart condition, and a family secret, and rumors, and a diary . . . the whole thing is chock full of Gothic mystery and period goodness. Even the pace of the book itself hearkens back to the calmer, slower stories of days gone by. Not that the story drags—not by a long shot. It sucks you in from the get-go and constantly pulls you forward, but at a more sedate pace that allows you to relish the journey in a way that modern heart-pounding, high-octane reads simply do not permit.
The publishers compare this book to Burnett’s The Secret Garden, and they are right to do so—the feel here is very similar. The Aviary lacks the wild backdrop of the Yorkshire moors, but the Glendoveer Manor is very nearly vast enough (and mysterious enough) to make up the difference. Then, too, Clara Dooley, a fairly sweet child to begin with, does not have to undergo the character transformation for which Burnett’s Mary Lennox is so well known. The girls’ forbidden yet steadfast friendship despite differing temperaments is reminiscent of Anne Shirley and Diana Barry in Montgomery’s beloved classic Anne of Green Gables—though Clara is the calm and staid Diana to Daphne’s wilder and more impetuous Anne. Throw in a pinch of the supernatural (Mrs. Glendoveer’s husband was a famous magician, don’t you know) and a healthy slug of long-forgotten—but never solved—mystery, and you’ve got the recipe for a pretty delicious little book. Things go a bit off the rails at the very end of the book, as the supernatural elements threaten to overwhelm the story, but by and large O’Dell has created nothing less than a modern classic.
Whenever a book features a child protagonist, issues of submission and independence tend to lurk nearby. The writer has to come up with a reason why the child is the one handling the problem instead of handing it over to a capable and trustworthy adult. Common solutions include disbelief (adults will not give any credence to the emergency perceived only by the child), secrecy (there is some reason why grown-ups cannot be told), impotence (the accessible adults cannot actually help), urgency (there simply isn’t time to involve a grown-up), or simple independence (the child doesn’t want help).
O’Dell relies on all five. The supernatural elements involved—and the ultimate identity of the villain—make it unlikely that Clara’s mother or the cook or anyone else will believe Clara’s version of events. Daphne’s involvement, and Clara’s secret friendship with her in defiance of her mother’s orders, make Clara loathe to reveal the results of the girls’ investigation and seek assistance. Then, too, even if Clara were to enlist her mother’s help, there is the issue of how much help a housekeeper can actually provide in the face of a powerful enemy. As a result of these choices, the girls pretty much paint themselves into a corner such that when they finally need assistance, there is no time to ask. And, of course, underneath all these circumstantial considerations, there is 12-year-old Clara’s bid for some measure of independence after years of restrictions and submission. These various factors place Clara, and not a competent adult, at the center of the action.
In the process of maneuvering Clara into this role of protagonist, O’Dell presents the reader with a character who makes some very questionable choices. Clara disobeys her mother several times. She keeps secrets and even tells lies. Often, she believes she has good reason for her actions. And it comes to light that some of her mother’s rules were misguided—or even downright dishonest; that Clara herself has been lied to. Although the book itself does not resolve this tension between obedience and independence, it could be an excellent catalyst for helpful conversations about coming of age, including discussions about when and how to disagree with—or even disregard—rules and commands, and the unwisdom and consequences of dishonesty and deceit. Which, let’s face it, is a pretty important lesson to learn.
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High school junior Alton Richards is gearing up for a bummer summer. Dumped by his girlfriend (for his best friend, no less), with no money and no job on the horizon, he is bullied by his parents into driving his ailing (and extremely wealthy) great uncle Lester to his bridge club. Alton’s parents are determined to stay on dear old Uncle Lester’s good side in case he kicks the bucket any time soon. Alton is more than just a chauffeur, though—he is his uncle’s ‘cardturner’. Uncle Lester is a brilliant bridge player, but he’s blind as a bat, and Alton is in charge of telling him what cards he holds and playing the cards Lester tells him to play. Along the way, Alton meets a host of interesting characters, all of whom are avid bridge players—including a distant cousin (of sorts), who is young, pretty, and is rumored to be crazy as a loon. Before he knows it, Alton finds himself fascinated by the ins and outs of this complicated game. But when his uncle’s health takes a turn for the worse, bridge quickly becomes the least complicated part of his life.
Subjective Appeal: Award-Winning Author, The Wild World of Card Games
The subjective appeal of a novel like this is not always immediately obvious. There are no dragons here; no princesses to be rescued or aliens to be annihilated. There are no vampires or werewolves or scrappy teens fighting for their lives. There isn’t even much teenage angst or romantic drama. Alton is just an ordinary boy living an ordinary life. Fortunately, Louis Sachar is not an ordinary writer. With the same flair for storytelling that won him such acclaim in Holes, he creates characters we care about and makes their relatively uneventful lives interesting. Don’t get me wrong—the story is perfectly acceptable. But it is the skill of the storyteller that really makes this book.
Eighteen-year old Lucas Moore hasn’t had the best life. He and his mother live in a beat-up trailer in the aptly-named nowhere town of Perdition, Arizona, where she waits tables in a diner and he works as an auto mechanic—when he’s not out drinking or getting into a fight. He never finished high school. He’s never known his father.
Then one day, a strange man shows up in Perdition. And he’s fixated on Lucas. It turns out that this stranger is none other than the well-known billionaire Clayton Hartwell, who moonlights as the vigilante superhero known as the Raptor.
And Lucas is his son.
You see, Hartwell is dying, and now he wants Lucas to take up his mantle and protect the crime-ridden Seraph City once he’s gone. But Lucas isn’t so sure he wants that life. That is, until his trailer park is razed to the ground, and his mother is killed. Heartbroken and outraged, Lucas agrees to accompany Hartwell to Seraph City and start his superhero training. But the more time he spends with Hartwell, the more he starts to wonder about the choices he’s making. A mysterious call from a well-informed stranger sends Lucas digging into Hartwell’s past, and what he finds forces him to ask some very difficult questions about good, evil, and the real role of a superhero.
This is a classic superhero story. I’m not saying it will become a classic; it’s simply not that memorable. But it has all the classic superhero ingredients. A young slacker (Green Hornet); the onset of inexplicable physical changes (Spider-man); a long-lost father who reveals the hero’s true identity (Superman); a billionaire with a secret (Batman); a jaded superhero who’s willing to use questionable means to achieve his supposedly ‘good’ ends (Watchmen); a superhero with severe physical limitations (X-Men); flying suits (Iron Man); botched science experiments (The Hulk); super powers (pretty much all of them); crime syndicates (ditto) . . . this reads like an amalgam of tried-and-true superhero stereotypes. There’s even a hint of romance involving a sweet, supportive, smart (and conveniently attractive) girl. Not so much romance th
It was just a bit of tapestry. A very old tapestry, tucked into a crate of old books that Tessa’s dad bought at an auction. But Tessa is fascinated. The image—a wild, beautiful unicorn—is so vivid . . . and so are her dreams. Then, when Tessa pulls a loose thread on the tapestry, her whole world starts to unravel. Will, a handsome—if haughty—young nobleman, has been yanked out of the sixteenth century and plopped down in her room in the middle of modern day Portland, Maine. His fate is somehow tied to the tapestry, and he needs Tessa’s help.
Inexplicably drawn to this stranger, Tessa agrees to help him, and the next thing she knows, she’s immersed in a centuries-old conflict between ancient enemies—and both of them want the tapestry. With the Fates on one side, threatening her family and all she holds dear unless she does their bidding, and a powerful witch on the other, determined to destroy anything that stands in the way of her quest for eternal life, Tessa must find a way to protect the ones she loves.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that little (and not-so-little) girls love unicorns. In fact, the only thing little girls like more than a unicorn is a handsome young prince with a slight streak of arrogance but also, when push comes to shove, a good heart.
This story has both. Ok, yes, Will (whose surname is ‘de Chaucy’ of all things—a generically ‘landed gentry’ sort of name if ever I’ve heard one) is technically the son of an earl, but let’s be honest: any title of nobility will work in a pinch. He’s occasionally brusque, and haughty, and understandably old-fashioned in his ideas, but he’s also brave and strong and daring and did I mention handsome? That Tessa starts to fall in love with him will come as a surprise to precisely no one.
Prince Charming De Chaucy is not alone, however; there are other fairy tale tropes here, as well—a wicked witch, enchanted animals, evils snakes, dragons, castles . . . even the three Fates, who weave
Sixteen-year-old Joey Crouch used to be fairly happy. He and his mother enjoyed life in Chicago. He had a best friend. He played the trumpet. He wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t so unpopular as to be a target for abuse by those higher up the social ladder. All in all, life wasn’t bad. Then one day, everything changed. His mother dies, and Joey is uprooted from his life in Chicago and sent to live in rural Iowa with a father he’s never met.
Through a series of unfortunate circumstances, Joey rapidly becomes ‘that kid’—the butt of every joke, victimized (emotionally and physically) by teachers and students alike. His new home is no better. The house is a mess, and it reeks to high heaven. His father is largely absent, wandering in and out of the home at odd hours and after long intervals, leaving Joey to fend for himself. But that’s not the worst of it. Eventually, Joey becomes curious about his father’s unorthodox activities, and discovers, to his horror, that his father is a ‘digger’—one who robs the graves and coffins of the dearly departed.
Joey is initially disgusted, but his hunger for social contact, for some kind of family, leads him to seek acceptance from his father the only way he knows how: by joining him in his chosen profession. Thus begins Joey’s sordid and grotesque adventures as a grave robber. His father teaches him all he knows, and Joey comes to find a certain confidence in his ability as a ‘digger.’ However, when they meet up with his father’s ‘colleagues’—particularly a deeply disturbed, odd looking man known as ‘Baby’—things get very dark very quickly and Joey’s struggle for social survival morphs into a struggle for physical survival. As Joey comes face to face with human depravity (including his own), he learns that the living can be far more rotten than any corpse.
Title: The Death of Yorik Mortwell
Author: Stephen Messer (illustrated by Gris Grimly)
Genre: Middle-grade Gothic fantasy novel (Dark Fantasy)
Age Category: 9 years +
It’s not every day you come across a book where the hero dies in the first chapter. But in The Death of Yorik Mortwell, that’s exactly what happens to 12-year-old Yorik Mortwell, orphaned son of a gamekeeper at Ravenby Manor: he dies. Fortunately for the readers, Yorik does not pass quietly into the great beyond, but returns as a ghost.
Upon his return, he is greeted almost immediately by the spoiled and curiously powerful silver-haired Princess and her peculiar (and ailing) friend Erde, who live in an enchanted glade on the grounds. After briefly considering exacting vengeance on his killer, Yorik realizes that something dark and deadly is stalking the manor grounds and the house itself, while the Princess’s friend Erde seems to be wasting away into nothing. Yorik quickly loses his taste for revenge, and is consumed with concern for Erde and for his still-living younger sister Susan, a servant in the Ravenby House. He is determined to defeat the Dark Ones—but what are they? Where did they come from? Why are there so many? And what is one little ghost boy to do against such dark forces?
The story is punctuated with grimly comedic illustrations, which are decent enough but cannot survive the invited comparison to the master Edward Gorey.
The front flap of this book notes that it will be popular with fans of Edward Gorey (to whom the author and illustrator clearly owe a debt), Lemony Snicket, and Neil Gaiman’s
Well, I’m happy to report that I finally finished my eBook, How to Choose Children’s Books, which I’ve been working on for the past year or so. The download page is here and the book is free. You can also get there by clicking the title page graphic to the right.
Here’s what you’ll find inside:
Practical tips on picking great books for kids of all ages—infant through young adult.
Guidance on what makes books attractive and developmentally valuable for children.
Analysis of themes, illustrations, stories, and the use of humor in children’s books.
Philosophical reflections on the role of children’s books in the development of character.
A comprehensive list of online resources for finding excellent children’s literature, including book lists, sources of professional book reviews, and children’s literature blogs.
For those of you who end up downloading and reading it, I would be especially grateful for your feedback on it, whether encouraging or constructively critical; just leave it below in a comment on this post. I’d like the book to be as helpful as possible for parents, teachers, and anyone else concerned with getting good books into the hands of children; your feedback will help me to achieve that goal.
Finally, if you think the book would be helpful to anyone you know, please tell them about it or pass the digital copy of it along to them. Better yet, share it on Facebook or Twitter; the “share” button below makes it easy. Again, the download page is here if you are interested. Thanks!
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Clare Beaton’s One Moose, Twenty Mice is a counting book to help with learning numbers for preschool. It begins with the following statement/question: “One moose, but where’s the cat?” Each subsequent page continues the pattern established on the first page. For example, the second and third pages say, “Two crabs, but where’s the cat?” and “Three ladybugs, but where’s the cat?” The pages continue counting up in the same way until the last page, which says, “Twenty mice, and here’s the cat!”
The illustrations are scenes of colorful stitched fabrics (mostly felt), ribbons, buttons, sequins, and beads that depict the numbers and animals mentioned in the text. Importantly, in each scene (except the last) the cat is hiding somewhere. In the last scene the cat is finally in full view, chasing twenty white mice!
Several factors give this counting book subjective appeal for toddlers and young children. First, the narrative structure is very inviting. The repetitive refrain, “…but where is the cat?” on each page plays several roles. Since there is a (semi-) hidden cat on each page, it prompts the child to hunt for the cat. And who doesn’t like hunting for objects in illustrations? (Wheres Waldo anyone?) Hunting for and finding the cat also gives the child a sense of accomplishment and naturally causes her to linger over each page. The repetition also gives young children a sense of what is coming, and thus of security
Daniel Crowley cannot tell a lie. For most of his life, this inability has been a fairly manageable annoyance. Now, as soldiers move into the small town of Everwood, it’s become downright dangerous. There’s a rebellion in the City, and the soldiers—especially the unsettling and erratic Captain Sloper—are determined to root out any sympathizers.
This is particularly bad news for Daniel’s friend Emily Byrdsong, a newcomer to Everwood and granddaughter of the town witch. There’s something mysterious about the Byrdsong family—Emily’s parents haven’t been seen since their arrest for participating in the rebellion, Grandma Byrdsong has a curious fondness for bubble baths, and they live in a house where the rules of time and space don’t seem to work quite the way they do in the rest of Everwood. Captain Sloper is suspicious of the Byrdsongs, and is determined to use Daniel’s honesty to expose them . . . and the rest of the town.
But the Byrdsongs aren’t the only mystery in Everwood. There is an island on the edge of town where no one ever goes. Indeed, no one has ever been there. Not that people haven’t tried. The waters teem with venomous snakes . . . snakes with faces eerily reminiscent of those who tried to breach the island’s barriers. Some say it is protected. But by what? And against whom? Armed with a cryptic, ancient map, Daniel, Emily, and Wesley—Daniel’s kid brother—are determined to explore the island. Will they be able to solve the mystery before Captain Sloper destroys the island—and the town—in his crazed quest?
When it comes to fantasy literature, the charm is in often in the details, and Townley fills this tale right to the brim: an obese old woman who reads the future in bath bubbles, a magic pearl necklace, windows to the past and future, a boy who cannot lie, snow leopards you can ride, cryptic maps, riddles, a mustachioed villain, the afo
Title: The Last Synapsid
Author: Timothy Mason
Genre: Middle-grade Fiction
Age Category: 9-12 years
Are you looking for a middle-grade novel with dinosaurs, time-travel, eco-responsibility, and Shakespeare for children? If so, The Last Synapsid by Timothy Mason may be what you are looking for!
Life in Faith, Colorado is fairly uneventful for best friends Rob and Phoebe. That is, until one day they come across a prehistoric creature so old, he makes dinosaurs look modern—a plant-eating synapsid they affectionately dub ‘Sid.’ Sid’s on an epic journey through time . . . and he needs Rob and Phoebe’s help! Another synapsid—an aptly-named Gorgon, and much less amiable than the kind-hearted Sid—has stumbled into the modern era via a ‘time snag’ and refuses to return to his native time. If this carnivorous monster remains in the present, the course of evolution will be changed forever, and humankind (and all other mammals) will never come into existence. Meanwhile, a mysterious stranger by the name of Jenkins has been lurking around town, and he seems bound and determined to use the synapsids’ time-traveling abilities for his own selfish ends—no matter the cost…
The book includes a few helpful illustrations (Rob is a budding artist, and he carefully documents the various creatures they meet on their adventures), but by and large the book relies on verbal descriptions to depict the fantastic animals and events Rob and Phoebe encounter.
With the scheduled December 2011 release of Steven Spielberg’s movie, The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn, I thought I would review the classic 1959 middle-grade comic with the same title by the Belgian artist Georges Rémi (1907-1983), who created under the name Hergé. The Tintin comics were some of my favorites as a child, and my kids have now started enjoying them too. If you would like to see the trailer for Spielberg’s upcoming movie, click here.
Summary: The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn
The Adventures of Tinitin: The Secret of the Unicorn opens with a news report that incidences of petty thievery are on the rise in London, and that the police are using their “best men to put a stop to this public scandal.” It turns out that London’s “finest” include Thomson and Thompson, two identical-looking and identically incompetent detectives who sport black suits and bowlers. On their patrol of the Old Street Market—during which both of their wallets are stolen—they bump into their friend Tintin (a brave, sharp reporter, the protagonist of the story) and his white fox terrier, Snowy. As Tintin buys a model ship for his friend Captain Haddock—a retired old salt who struggles (sometimes not too hard) with his taste for liquor—two men appear beside him and express interest in the ship he has just bought. They offer dueling bids, but Tintin refuses to sell it.
Tintin takes the model home, where Snowy accidentally breaks the mast. Never mind: Tintin easily repairs it. When Tintin shows the ship to Captain Haddock, the Captain notices that the ship is a scale model of the Unicorn, the ship sailed by his distant relative Sir Francis Haddock. However, soon after the model is stolen from Tintin’s apartment, which is ransacked in the process. In the wake of the break-in, Ti
Today I continue my series of interviews with children’s book bloggers in an interview with Julie Danielson (abbreviated “JD” below), who blogs at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, or “7-Imp” for short. Jules is an influential blogger in the kidlitosphere and is an aficionado of children’s picture books. As you’ll see from the interview, she’s a wiz with American Sign Language and is also pretty darn funny. Pithy enticing quote: “…very simply, I’m an Illustration Junkie and must feed my habit.” The point of these interviews, of course, is to help connect readers of Children’s Books and Reviews to some of the many other excellent children’s literature blogs out there. So, if you are also a sucker for children’s picture books, after reading the interview I encourage you to check out Julie’s blog, Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast. Click here for the previous interview in this series, with Jill Tullo of the Well-Read Child.
Q: When and how did you become interested in children’s picture books?
JD: I blame Eisha Prather, my best friend and fellow imp—and whom regular 7-Imp readers will recognize as my partner-in-crime in co-founding the blog. Not too terribly long after college and before each of us went off and got hitched, we were roommates in a lovely, if un-air-conditioned, old farmhouse in beautiful Maryville, Tennessee. That’s “Murvul,” by the way, if you’re a true East Tennessean. At the time, she was a public librarian and would bring home her favorite picture books and leave them on the dining room table for me to read. I’d wander off with them and explore. I fell for them. And fell hard.
Q: Tell me some basics about your blog.
JD: The two of us co-founded the blog in 2006 (back when, tragically, our images at the site posted so very small). Our vision was pretty simple: We planned to talk about the books we read. And lots of different kinds of books: picture books, memoirs, YA fiction, science fiction, graphic novels, fancy-pants postmodern high-art metafiction for grown-ups, paranormal noir, whatever struck us. And we wrote about them in the hopes that we could a) let readers know about a book that they might like to read, too, and b) inspire discussion about said books.
In 2009, Eisha decided to officially back out of the blog. Her career path simply shifted (though I admit we joked about staging a fake fight with lots of creative cursing and making it look like she was storming out). Now I blog solo. Even before Eisha officially backed out of 7-Imp, my focus shifted. For different reasons (but primarily ‘cause I am fascinated by the art form that is the picture book), I post about illustration — pictu
Today I continue my series of interviews with children’s book bloggers in an interview with Jill Tullo (abbreviated “JT” below), who blogs at The Well-Read Child. Jill is a veteran blogger in the kidlitosphere and cares a lot about children’s literacy. As you’ll see from the interview, she suggests some great ways to help children read. She also has a soft spot for dystopian fiction. The point of these interviews, of course, is to help connect readers of Children’s Books and Reviews to some of the many other excellent children’s literature blogs out there. So, after reading the interview, I encourage you to check out Jill’s blog, The Well-Read Child. Click here for the previous interview in this series, with Sylvia Vardell of Poetry for Children.
Q: When and how did you become interested in children’s books?
JT: I’ve loved to read as long as I can remember, and in seventh grade I started a diary. Alongside the usual information you’d expect to find in a tween girl’s diary (boys, friends, school, etc.), are brief summaries and reaction to books I’d just finished. This was before the days of blogs and sites like Goodreads, so old-fashioned pen and paper had to do. Because I read so much, I’ve always wanted to keep records of what I’ve read and how I felt about the books when I finished them. In 2007 when my little girl was just a few months, I had a very emotional experience reading a book to her – On the Day You Were Born by Debra Frasier – and decided that I wanted to document these experiences and keep track of the books I read with her. The Well-Read Child was born that night.
JT: The Well-Read Child started out as a place to write about what I was reading with my child, but I knew there were so many other books for children that I wanted to talk about. I’d also heard from other parents that they just didn’t know what books to choose for their children or even how to get them interested in reading. That’s when I decided
Here’s another in my series of interviews with children’s book bloggers. Today I report my interview withSylvia Vardell (abbreviated “SV” below), who blogs at Poetry for Children. As you will see from the interview, Sylvia is a professor at Texas Woman’s University, an author, and a strong advocate of poetry for children. Choice quote: “Poetry is part music and part chocolate—delicious and unforgettable.” The point of these interviews, of course, is to help connect readers of Children’s Books and Reviews to some of the many other excellent children’s literature blogs out there. So, after reading the interview, I encourage you to check out Sylvia’s blog, Poetry for Children, and the other useful resources she mentions. Click here for the previous interview in this series, with Travis Jonker of 100 Scope Notes.
Q: When and how did you become interested in poetry, and poetry for children in particular?
SV: I loved the rhythm and rhyme of poetry when I was a little girl and memorized a poem to perform for my Mom for her birthday when I was 7 or 8. Then came a long dormant period where poetry became more academic. I actually enjoyed analysis in college, but it wasn’t til I met a poet in graduate school that I came to see the passion BEHIND the creation of poetry and remembered how fun it could be. And that was when Shel Silverstein was a brand new voice (in the 1970’s) and his poetry persuaded my cranky sixth grade students to give the genre a chance. I used to say that Where the Sidewalk Ends was the one book I would want with me if I were ever stranded on a desert island with sixth graders!
Q: Do you write poetry for children yourself?
SV: Nope, I don’t. At least not with any intention of sharing it at all. I play with it from time to time, but mostly I love writing ABOUT poetry for children and I figure we need those voices, too.
Q: Why is poetry important? Is there something especially important about it for children?
SV: Poetry is part music and part chocolate—delicious and unforgettable. Everyone should get a taste
Here’s another in my series of interviews with children’s book bloggers. Today I report my interview withTravis Jonker (abbreviated “TJ” below), who blogs at 100 Scope Notes. As you will see from the interview, Travis is an elementary school librarian; he also happens to be a pretty funny guy, so you won’t want to miss the interview. I laughed out loud at least once! The point of these interviews, of course, is to help connect readers of Children’s Books and Reviews to some of the many other excellent children’s literature blogs out there. So, after reading the interview, I encourage you to check out Travis’s blog, 100 Scope Notes. Click here for the previous interview in this series, with Barbara Bietz of Jewish Books for Children.
Q: I understand you are an elementary school librarian. Can you tell me a bit of the story of how you decided to take up that profession?
TJ: I followed the classic three step program:
1. I found that I hung out in libraries a lot. Public, school, college – I’ve visited and staked out my territory in them all. I can’t imagine how much time I would have spent in libraries if they circulated Jughead Double Digests when I was growing up. I think we would have had a From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler situation (except, you know, with a library instead of a museum).
2. I went to college and decided I wanted to work with the elementary set. I got my teaching certificate and started getting back into children’s books.
3. After college I did a year of service with AmeriCorps and ended up working in a school with a desk just off the library. The outstanding librarian there (Beth Miller) was a huge influence on me wanting to give librarianship a go. Halfway through the year, I was signing up to go back to school for my library degree.
Q: Where, exactly, do you work, and what sorts of things do you enjoy most about your job?
TJ: I work for a school district in Michigan. I’m the elementary school librarian and I split my time between four buildings serving grades K-6.
I love my job. The variety’s good. One day you’re working with a class, helping a student research “Golden Girl” Rue McClanahan, the n
Johnson’s Seeds of Change traces the story of Wangari Maathai, the first African woman and environmentalist to win the Nobel Peace Prize, which she won in 2004.
As a young girl, Wangari grew up in rural Kenya where she learned a deep appreciation and respect for the natural environment. The great mugumo trees earned a special place in her heart: they provided a home for monkeys, birds, and geckos; tasty fruit for humans and elephants; and a shady resting place for Wangari’s Kikuyu ancestors.
Wangari—bright and thirsty for knowledge—became one of few girls in her day to receive an education. Her love of nature drew her to biology, which she studied first in Nairobi, and eventually in the United States as a university student. During her time in the United States, Wanga
Today I wrap up my series on how to choose children’s books by pointing to a number of book lists and other resources that can help adults find some of the best children’s books. Relying on the opinions of those who put such lists and resources together is of course not a fool-proof way to find the best children’s books, but it can be a very quick way to zero in on some that are probably good. Such lists and resources should not replace your own judgment about children’s books—which I hope has been refined a bit over the course of this series (mine has!)—but they can be a helpful supplement. Before launching into the resources, I should probably also state the obvious: the children’s librarian at your local library is also a fantastic source of recommendations and information on children’s books. Don’t forget him or her.
The first kind of resource that can help you find great children’s books quickly is a book list. There are many great book lists out there, but here are some of my favorites:
List of Newbery Award Winners. Newbery winners are children’s novels (not picture books) aimed at children of “middle-grade” age, i.e., roughly 8 to 12 years old. Although readers’ tastes may sometimes diverge from the judgments of the Newbery panel, books on this list are generally pretty high-quality and interesting to read. The official description of the Newbery Medal is as follows: “The Newbery Medal was named for eighteenth-century British bookseller John Newbery. It is awarded annually by the Association for Library Service to Children, a division of the American Library Association, to the author of the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children.” ALA Newbery Medal website
List of Caldecott Award Winners. The Caldecott Medal is awarded to picture books generally aimed at younger children (i.e., in the 3-to-8-year-old category). Technically, the Caldecott Medal is awarded for the artwork in the picture book, not the story or the book as a whole. However, a book must be of a pretty high quality as a whole (i.e., story included) in order to win the Caldecott, so you don
In this penultimate article in my series on how to choose children’s books, I will address the issue of commercialism in children’s literature. Specifically, I will offer some advice on avoiding overly commercial children’s literature, and why parents ought to do so. I will use Disney Princess books—and the Disney Princess Collection in particular—as a concrete example of an important kind of books I think adults should avoid exposing children to.
Disney Princess Books: Reasons to Avoid Them (and Their Ilk)
I think Disney Princess books are a prime example of the kind of overly commercialized children’s literature that adults ought to avoid when choosing children’s books. Why? Glad you asked:
First, the stories in such books are generally of a very low quality. For example, in the Disney Princess Collection, the “stories” are basically just 10-page summaries of movies like “Snow White”, “Sleeping Beauty”, “Beauty and the Beast”, and “The Little Mermaid”. It doesn’t get much less creative than that people. Moreover, unlike the movies themselves, there is virtually no character development in the stories, so they come off as totally flat and boring. Exposing children to this sort of book instills very low expectations of literature, and does nothing to encourage a taste for creative, lively, interesting writing. In short, stories like this have very little developmental value, and would have virtually no subjec
Perhaps the most obvious way a children’s book can have developmental value for a child is by its ability to educate about a certain topic. As the child reads the book, she learns something via the content of the book. In this post I will discuss the place of educational themes in rendering a children’s book developmentally valuable, and I will offer some advice on choosing children’s educational books. Educational themes might be understood as a complement to attractive themes, which contribute to the subjective appeal of a children’s book.
Children’s Educational Books: Importance of Developmental Stage
There is no mystery to how children’s educational books can contribute to a child’s development: books with educational themes simply help a child learn something she didn’t know about before. The key, then, to choosing children’s books with educational themes is to make sure the themes of the book fit with the child’s stage of cognitive, physical, and emotional development.
For example, children in the infants and toddlers age category (roughly up to three years old) are generally learning basic concepts, acquiring language, learning to recognize objects in the world, and learning to control their bodies in basic ways. So, books featuring letters (e.g., Dr. Seuss’s ABC: An Amazing Alphabet Book!), colors, and numbers are obviously appropriate and beneficial. As I suggested in my review of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, one reason Eric Carle’s classic book is so good is that it exposes children to numbers, the biology of caterpillars and butterflies, and to basic objects (e.g., the sun, leaves, food items, etc.). These elements are educational for young children. Potty trainin
Here’s another in my series of interviews with children’s book bloggers. Today I report on my interview with Barbara Bietz (abbreviated “BB” below), who blogs at Jewish Books for Children. As you will see from the interview, Barbara is a children’s author and has a special place in her heart for Jewish Children’s Books. The point of these interviews, of course, is to help connect readers of Children’s Books and Reviews to some of the many other excellent children’s literature blogs out there. So, after reading the interview, I encourage you to check out Barbara’s blog, Jewish Books for Children; its focus on Jewish children’s books makes it a unique and important member of the kidlitosphere. Click here for the previous interview in this series, with Monica Edinger of educating alice.
Q: I understand that you write children’s books. How and when did you decide to become a children’s author?
BB: I have always enjoyed writing and did quite a bit of academic and technical writing. From the time I was young I would write poems and stories but was afraid to share them with others. Finally, I took a class on children’s literature with Alexis O’Neill. In the safe environment of a critique group I gradually became brave enough to share my work. Over the years I have met some wonderful writers in classes and workshops. Writing is a passion but it is also a skill that needs to be developed and nurtured.
Q: Tell me about your book Like a Maccabee.
BB: Like a Maccabee is about Ben, a typical 10 year old boy. His soccer team made the league championships but the rival team’s best defender is the school bully who torments Ben on and off the field. No one at home seems to understand and, making matters even worse, he has to share his bedroom—and his family’s attention—with his grandfather, who has recently come to live with them. Facing humiliation at school and being misunderstood by those who love him most, Ben finds an unexpected friend in his grandfather.
Title: The Storm Before Atlanta
Author: Karen Schwabach
Genre: Middle-Grade Historical Fiction
Age Category: 9 – 12 years
Children’s Book about the Civil War: The Storm Before Atlanta
The Storm Before Atlanta is a children’s book about the Civil War. The book opens in 1863, with the Northern and Southern United States locked in conflict. Eleven year old Jeremy DeGroot is determined to die gloriously for his country as a drummer boy in the Union Army, believing that this will have him immortalized as a hero. After a few long train rides and some quick thinking, Jeremy finds himself marching into battle with the 107th New York Volunteer Infantry, and thinks he’s achieved his life’s ambition. However, Jeremy quickly learns that the real life of a soldier bears little resemblance to the songs of glorious battle and valiant death that originally inspired him.
The Storm Before Atlanta also introduces us to Dulcie, a young escaped slave who is determined to find herself as part of a Union army regiment. In doing this, Dulcie hopes to gain her freedom and eventually locate her mother and father, whom she hasn’t seen in years. Alongside these two protagonists we also meet Charlie, a Confederate soldier who wears the uniform of an enemy, but acts like a friend. But Charlie also carries a closely guarded secret, one that will affect Jeremy and Dulcie profoundly.
"What a curious feeling!" said Alice, "I must be shutting up like a telescope!" And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high.
Here’s another in my series of interviews with children’s book bloggers. Today I report on my interview with Monica Edinger (abbreviated “ME” below), who blogs at educating alice and the Huffington Post. As you will see from the interview, Monica is a teacher and an author, and she has worked around children’s books for a long time. She has even served on the Newbery Medal committee. The point of these interviews, of course, is to help connect readers of Children’s Books and Reviews to some of the many other excellent children’s literature blogs out there. So, after reading the interview, I encourage you to check out Monica’s blog, educating alice; it is one of the most widely read and respected blogs in the kidlitosphere. Click here for the the previous interview in this series.
Q: How and when did you become interested in thinking and writing about children’s books?
ME: I have always been interested in children’s books. Drawing and art was what I did as a kid and so in high school I consciously decided that when I grew up I was going to be a children’s book illustrator. I worked on a number of projects, most notably illustrations for Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time and J.R.R. Tolkien’s short story, “A Leaf by Niggle” [in The Tolkien Reader]. In college and after (say, when I was in Sierra Leone as a Peace Corps Volunteer) I continued to do art—fairy tales, Kipling’s The Elephant’s ChildAdd a Comment
Stories can have a powerful influence on the formation of character and values in children. As such, the potential for character formation via stories is an important criterion for adults to consider when selecting books for children. In this article, I will describe how stories of virtue and vice can shape character in children, and I will offer some advice on choosing children’s books with character-building stories.
Mischief is a very common feature of children’s books. But is reading about mischief good for kids? In this article I will discuss the developmental value (or disvalue) of mischief in children’s books, as one of several criteria for choosing books for children. I will try to distinguish benign mischief from pernicious mischief, and to give adults some guidance on choosing or avoiding books that feature mischief.
Criteria for Choosing Books for Children: Mischief
So, what do I mean by “mischief” in children’s books? By “mischief” I mean intentional behavior by the characters in the book that strays, to some extent, from what is appropriate or good. The function of mischief in children’s books is generally to elicit laughs. Some examples will help clarify what I mean.
In Olivia, by Ian Falconer, the main character, a five- to six-year-old pig, is quite mischievous. For example, after returning from the Museum of Modern Art she decides that she can paint just as well as Jackson Pollock, and she proceeds to splatter paint on her living room walls. In Olivia Saves the CircusAdd a Comment
by Debra Frasier – and decided that I wanted to document these experiences and keep track of the books I read with her. The 
was the one book I would want with me if I were ever stranded on a desert island with sixth graders!
situation (except, you know, with a library instead of a museum).
in particular—as a concrete example of an important kind of books I think adults should avoid exposing children to.
), colors, and numbers are obviously appropriate and beneficial. As I suggested in my 
is about Ben, a typical 10 year old boy. His soccer team made the league championships but the rival team’s best defender is the school bully who torments Ben on and off the field. No one at home seems to understand and, making matters even worse, he has to share his bedroom—and his family’s attention—with his grandfather, who has recently come to live with them. Facing humiliation at school and being misunderstood by those who love him most, Ben finds an unexpected friend in his grandfather.
and J.R.R. Tolkien’s short story, “A Leaf by Niggle” [in 
]. In college and after (say, when I was in Sierra Leone as a Peace Corps Volunteer) I continued to do art—fairy tales, Kipling’s 
are good examples of character-building stories, i.e., traditional stories that have aimed at developing character in children. As I noted in 
