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A delightfully encouraging and warmly reassuring tale to foster adventurous spirits and feed curiosity about what lies beyond your front door, Paul Beavis’ Hello World! is a perfect picture book to put the wind beneath the wings of all those learning to explore their world around them.

Monster is bored and Mr. and Mrs. Mo, his elderly carers, are busy. Undismayed, Monster decides to go off exploring by himself and packs his rucksack with equipment worthy of an adventurer wishing to prepare himself for any eventuality.

Torch? Check.
Fishing rod? Check.
Globe? Check.
Trumpet? Check.

And then Monster is off, enthusiastically crossing over fields, then a wide river, into exotic canyons, leaving a peculiar trail behind him (the reader can decide for themselves whether this is a deliberately Hansel-and-Gretel-like act or simply accidental) as items fall from his bulging bag.

Just when Monster’s energy and faith in the wisdom of his plan begin to flag, Mrs. Mo ‘miraculously’ appears with sandwiches at the ready. Once re-fueled, Monster draws his friend onwards for a final push up to the top of a nearby hill, whereupon the extra effort is richly rewarded with a breathtaking view showing a welcoming world filled with warmth and and wide-open opportunities.

This terrific tale sends subtle but solid encouragement to its readers and listeners – to have the confidence to follow their dreams, safe in the knowledge that loved ones will always be there when they need them.

Beavis’ illustrations are a tour de force, using perspective and palette to cleverly reinforce the written story; colour intensifies and the reader’s viewpoint zooms ever closer in until the moment of greatest tension in the story. This visual magnification and turning up of the heat adds another layer of drama to the play unfolding as the pages are turned.

Beautifully paced, Hello World! is also funny, touching and just the sort of story to put a spring in your step the next time you venture out to see what the new day holds for you, whether you are 4 or 94.

Inspired to get out there and feel the elements on our skin and see what unexpected surprises we could stumble upon, the girls and I decide to go on our own adventure. To help us prepare, I asked Paul Beavis for his advice. Here’s the wisdom he shared with us:

Paul’s publisher, Julia Marshall of Gecko Press, also gave us some sage advice about packing a rucksack for an adventure, but to find out what she said, you’ll have to visit Playing by the book’s facebook page.

With Paul and Julia’s advice in mind, we packed our bags and headed out for our adventure. The girls were in charge and we spent a day going in whichever direction they chose. It was definitely a “go with the flow” type of day (for me), and the girls were so excited to be completely in charge of where we went and what we looked at. Definitely a bit different to lots of other sorts of family outings!

Having read and thoroughly enjoyed Hello World!, here’s what we packed, and some of the colours and textures we saw:

Whilst out and about we didn’t listen to any music, but if you’re after some kid-friendly adventuring music you might enjoy:

Other activities which might work well alongside reading Hello World! include:

If you liked this post, you might enjoy seeing what’s in my handbag, reading about an earlier adventure with Monster and lots of sticky liquids, or discovering two non-fiction books designed to encourage families to get outside exploring.

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Disclosure: I was sent a free review copy of this book by the publisher.

Find out more about Paul and his work at www.facebook.com/mrsmosmonster and www.paulbeavis.com, or find him on Twitter @PDBeavis. In particular you might find Paul’s Facebook post about explaining his thought process for one spread in Hello World! interesting.

Is there a better way to start the new year than by introducing you to a book which will take you somewhere you’ve likely not visited via picture books before, is illustrated by the first Asian recipient of the most prestigious awards in children’s literature, the Hans Christian Andersen Award, and is about to be published for the first time in the UK with its original illustrations?

The Little Black Fish written by Samad Behrangi, translated by Azita Rassi and illustrated by Farshid Mesghali is perhaps the most famous children’s book of all time back in its home country, Iran.

As anyone who’s spent time with children knows, the littlest people can ask the biggest questions, and so it is with the little black fish in this story who wants to find out more about life outside of the pool where he and his family have always lived. Just because the family have always lived a certain way, why shouldn’t this brave and curious fish extend his horizons and set out to explore beyond his known world?

As the fish travels downstream he sees incredible sights the like of which he could never before have imagined. He also faces some terrible dangers. Will the fish survive to see his dream – the wide open ocean? Will his story of inquisitiveness and desire for freedom inspire others?

Behrangi’s story took on great political significance in Iran after it was published, read by many adults as a political allegory (you can find out more here). Indeed the message was so powerful, the book was banned in pre-revolutionary Iran. Whilst this historical background gives the book an additional charge for adults, younger readers in 2015 can enjoy this short story as an encouraging tale about believing in oneself, about learning from personal experience, and about not being afraid to be different.

The Little Black Fish won the First Graphic Prize at Sixth International Children Books’ Fair (1968) in Bologna for its illustrations by Farshid Mesghali. The stylish bold textured prints in a limited range of colours are beautifully reproduced and bound in this smart edition from Tiny Owl Publishing. Their apparent simplicity suggests something both childlike and timeless.

Inspired by the style of illustrations in The Little Black Fish we set about creating fish prints using plasticine (oil based, non permanent modelling clay). This was a great activity for giving old and manky plasticine one last shot at life!

We squished together lots of old pieces, and created “blanks” of different sizes. These blanks were turned into fish shapes using scissors to cut them, and then decorated with impressions made using butter (blunt) knives, forks and sharpened pencils.

Top tips for printing with plasticine

Once our prints were made we worked on some net-themed frames for them, making use of some of the cardboard collected over the Christmas parcel and present season. Here’s a short animated tutorial I made to show you how we did it:

Here are some of our finished and framed prints of fish exploring the wider world!

Whilst weaving and printing we listened to:

Other activities which would go well with reading The Little Black Fish include:

I’m delighted that Tiny Owl Publishing will be bringing us more translated Iranian children’s books in the coming months (although I do hope that future books will fully credit the illustrator and translator on the front cover of books, not just inside). What other unsung heroes in the international picture book world would you recommend I look out for – authors and illustrators who are famous in their home countries but who haven’t had wide recognition in the English speaking world?

Finally, you might notice things look a little different on the blog today. Over Christmas I updated the blog so that it should now be fully mobile-platform friendly; if you want to view this blog on your phone or tablet it should now be much easier to navigate and more pleasant to look at as the text and images are fully scalable. I’ll also take this opportunity to highlight Playing by the book can be found on twitter @playbythebook, Facebook, Pinterest and even (in a very small way) on Youtube – please feel free to follow me wherever it suits you.

Disclosure: I received a free review copy of The Little Black Fish from the publisher.

Over the last couple of year’s I’ve read quite a lot about how children’s books with a very specific cultural setting are not favoured by publishers because it is hard to sell rights widely; publishers are keen for “universal” stories which translate (literally and figuratively) well across borders and languages.

Whilst I understand publishers’ drive to maximise sales, I think a great deal is lost if we ignore stories boldly and vividly set in specific and identifiable locations and cultures. Indeed, considering the current drive for increasing diversity in children’s books, I would argue that books which are culture specific have a vital role to play.

And of course, a great book will be “universal” whether or not it is set in a specific time, location or country; enduring stories speak to that which we share whatever our differences.

I have been a fan of Mairi Hedderwick’s books for as long as I can remember. She writes and illustrates rural Scottish island life in a magical way. She captures truths like poetry can in her watercolours of Hebridean life, whilst her stories are full of acute observations about family life that’s more or less the same wherever you are in the world, exploring issues such as sibling rivalry and intergenerational relationships.

The Katie Morag Treasury by Mairi Hedderwick is a glorious book, bringing together a mix of the most popular previously published Katie Morag books and new stories and illustrations first heard and seen on episodes of the highly acclaimed BBC Katie Morag TV show. It really is a treasury, with a range of witty and poignant stories, illustrated in ink and watercolour in a way that invisibly and movingly marries romance and realism.

For kids listening to these stories Katie Morag’s tales act as mirrors; yes she may live in a community vastly unlike the one the young reader or listener lives in, but that only makes it more interesting and reassuring to read that Katie Morag has the same sort of worries, plays the same sorts of games and quarrels with her parents just like they do. Thoughtfulness is a consistent thread in all these stories, and Katie Morag herself is a terrific role model; full of strength and imagination she is not afraid to explore, to try new things, or to be kind.

This is a keeper of a book, one which works well both as a read-aloud, or for children who can read themselves. Indeed the lovely hardback binding makes this ideal for older readers who might not want to be seen reading picture books any more.

Last year when we were holiday in Scotland we collected a stash of shells and sea glass and re-reading these fabulous Katie Morag stories inspired us to get our jars of them out of our natural history museum, and play with them using a home-made light box.

I borrowed one of our large plastic boxes which we normally store lego in, lined it with white tissue paper, and then put a load of fairy lights inside it. With the fairy lights turned on, and all the other lights turned off and curtains drawn we entered something of a soothing world where the girls could then make patterns with the shells and sea glass, with soft light shining through.

If you don’t have any sea glass, you could do this activity with florists’ glass (vase) pebbles instead, making light imbued mosaics.

Music which goes really well with Katie Morag stories (though maybe not with the light box activity as much of it will get you up and dancing) includes:

Other activities which you could try out alongside reading The Katie Morag Treasury include:

What are your favourite children’s books which have a very strong sense of location?

Disclosure: I was sent a free review copy of The Katie Morag Treasury by the publisher

I do love a book full of holes.

Tights with holes? No thank you.

A bike tyre with a hole? What a pain.

But a book with holes? Yes PLEASE!

There are some all-time classic books with holes in them: Carle’s Very Hungry Caterpillar and the Ahlbergs’ Peepo. More recently there’s the exuberant Peck, Peck, Peck by Lucy Cousins, which I adore. But a new contender to join the ranks of honourably holey hits is It’s an Orange Aardvark! by Michael Hall.

The tale of a small colony of carpenter ants chewing holes in a tree stump, this book covers everything from learning about colours and similes to group dynamics and animal biology. It’s a wonderfully enjoyable read which explores both curiosity and fear. It really packs a great deal within its covers at the same time as being a visual and tactile treat.

A band of formic brothers are creating holes in their stump to look out on the world outside their home. One is enthusiastic to see what lies beyond their threshold. Another is terribly worried about the dangers that lurk beyond their known and safe world. As they make each window their stump is flooded with colour. What could be the cause of this? Is it something to embrace and delight in or could it be a threat?

The naysayer is convinced there is an existential threat to them all in the form of an aardvark waiting to gobble them up. As each different colour floods the stump, this poor ant must come up with increasingly outrageous explanations; could it really be a (blue) pyjama-wearing, (red) ketchup carrying, orange aardvark guiding a group of green geckos?

With a hint of Klassen-style ambiguity in the ending (what really was the source of all the colour?) this book is full of delicious tension, punctured with lots of humour as well as holes which let the colour flood from one page to the next. The bold illustrations appear to be made from collage, mixing watercolour and tissue paper. The torn edges suggesting the tree stump sides give an additional handmade, personal feel to the images, and the use of black and grey pages ensures the colours sing and pulse as they shine through.

The somewhat American language (“Sweet!”, “Neat!”) may niggle some readers elsewhere in the world but this is a small price to pay for such an inventive, enjoyable read. I do hope it will be released as a board book so that it can be fully explored with the fingers, hands and mouths not just of aardvarks but also of the youngest book devourers.

Taking the lead from the concentric rings of colour flooding through each hole as it is created in the tree stump, we used tissue paper circles of various sizes to create suncatchers which explored colour depth. You can buy ready cut shapes of tissue paper, but we used regular sheets and cut out a series of circles of various sizes using plates, bowls and mugs as our templates.

We layered our circles over a sheet of contact paper large enough to then fold back over the concentric circles to enclose them entirely in see-through plastic. An alternative would have been to use laminator sheets, if you have ones which are larger enough for your largest circle.

Once a we had a selection of coloured tissue paper/contact paper circle sandwiches we stuck them on our patio doors and let the light flood through them.

Whilst making our concentric sun catchers we listened to:

Other activities which would go well with reading It’s an Orange Aardvark! include:

What’s your favourite book with holes in it? What’s the most annoying (non book) hole you’ve ever discovered?

Disclosure: I was sent a review copy of this book by the publisher.

A rich and warm-hearted coming-of-age tale, Head over Heart is an impressive and important debut novel from Colette Victor.

An adolescent girl is smitten with a boy in her class. But she fears her family would disapprove of her spending time with him. How can she balance her wishes with those of her family? How does she work out what she really feels, when whatever course of action she takes may make someone unhappy?

Victor’s novel is finely told, with an eye for emotional complexity, but what makes it stand out for me is how very relevant it is today in Britain with all this talk of “British values”; the heroine in this story (which made me cry quietly as I reached the final pages) is a Muslim girl, trying to work out some of the issues any teenager might face to do with friendship, love, lust and just who they see themselves as, who they want to be, but she is having to do this at the same time as trying to find a comfortable place between or across two apparently very different cultures.

Ideas of what is right or wrong, what is appropriate or not are thoughtfully explored. There are no easy answers, but there’s lots of respect and understanding, quietly woven into the pages. Whilst it is brilliant to see some publishing diversity (how many other novels for young teenagers can you think of with a Muslim main character?), I firmly believe this is story relevant to any adolescent (and indeed any parent of young people just entering that crazy time of their lives when hormones run riot), whatever their cultural or religious background.

If you enjoyed Anne Booth‘s Girl with a White Dog I’m confident you will love this book, which also explores how life in Britain today is incredibly enriched by the many cultures that find a home here. Pertinent, moving, and at times challenging Head over Heart is a book which makes the world a little better for enabling us to walk in each others shoes and understand our neighbours and ourselves a little more.

Perhaps the last comments of my review should go to a friend of mine: I lent my copy of Head over Heart to a Muslim friend who first warned me that it might take her ages to read the book. Within pretty much 48 hours she was back: “I couldn’t put down the book!” “Her writing is so beautiful.” “I would definitely give my daughter this.”. She also talked about how for her as a parent who didn’t grow up in the UK (but in Pakistan) it was very interesting and helpful to think about the differences between her own childhood and that of her UK born children.

Authors write outside their experience all the time but I still felt it would be interesting to hear what Colette Victor had to say about the experience – she was born in South Africa and now lives in Belgium. Here’s what she had to say to me:

“The magic of being a writer is being able to leave your own predictable and familiar existence to temporarily take up residence inside another person’s skin, a different set of circumstances, a new world all together. If the only viewpoint I was supposed to write from was that of a white, middle-aged South African woman living in Europe, I doubt I’d be doing any writing at all. I certainly wouldn’t have any readers.

So why did I feel I had the authority to write from the perspective of a Muslim teenage girl living in Europe? Well, it all boils down to my job, really. I live and work as a community worker in an ex-mining city in Belgium with a large immigrant population. I’ve worked with many different groups of people over the years – children, senior citizens, ex-convicts, job seekers, resident groups and mothers. Many of the young people and mothers I work with are of either Turkish or Moroccan origin – their families came out here over fifty years ago to work in the mines. I’ve heard countless personal stories, been inside scores of homes and spent hours in the company of young Muslim girls and their mums. I also spent a lot of time interviewing some of these girls to find out their viewpoint on various issues and, I can tell you, they’re as vast and varied as any other group of women.

One of the reasons I set out to write Head over heart was because there are so many misconceptions surrounding the headscarf. People often see it as a symbol of female oppression. Through my work I’ve met many proud, strong women who choose to wear a headscarf as a symbol of their identity, despite the opinions for or against it. I know married women, widows, single mums and emancipated university students who wear a headscarf because that’s who they are and not because there’s a man standing in the wings demanding it. On the flip side, I also know many women who would seem Westernised and wear Western clothing but live an existence of subjugation and submissiveness behind the scenes. I know Belgian women, Christian women and atheists – some lead proud, strong lives, some live in fear and submission. Ultimately it’s about looking further than cultural accessories and seeing the person underneath.

My daughter, Stella, who’s about the same age as Zeyneb, had a Muslim best friend for all her nursery and primary school years. The two girls were always together, doing homework, dressing up, sleeping over at each other’s houses. As my daughter’s friend got older and her body started changing, she often expressed concern about the fact that soon her carefree childhood would be behind her and she’d have to make the choice of wearing a headscarf or not. This is what got me thinking about all the cultural pressures at play in making such a decision and this is what I explored through Zeyneb’s eyes in Head over heart.”

My thanks go to Colette Victor for her thoughts on this. And thank you – this has been a long post, but I really think this book deserves the time and space I’ve devoted to it dtoday for it is an excellent, thoughtful, and highly relevant début.

Indulge me: Have a quick brainstorm about picture books you know for young kids which explore what it feels like to be different?

[Go on! Play the game!]
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Of those you’ve come up with, how many are about emotions rather than physical characteristics?

How many of them feature humans rather than animals?

How many of them have a boy lead character rather than a girl?

[I came up with very few, and even then I needed help from the ever resourceful and generous Letterbox Library. Between us we came up with Oliver by Birgitta Sif, Eliot Jones, Midnight Superhero by Anne Cottringer and Alex T Smith, Weslandia by Paul Fleischman and Kevin Hawkes but that was pretty much it.]

So when Made by Raffi written by Craig Pomranz, illustrated by Margaret Chamberlain (@madgiemadge) appeared in my hands for the first time I sat up and noticed; it’s about a boy who feels he doesn’t quite fit in, for instead of football, his passion is knitting and sewing.

Although he’s a curious and generous kid, he feels sidelined at school. Unlike most of his classmates, he doesn’t like noise and rough play. But thanks to a supportive teacher he discovers a new passion – making his own clothes. When it is time for the school play could this new skill help him gain the respect of his peers? Without giving the game away, the ending is upbeat, but also authentic. This isn’t a sugar-coated story. (For the really interesting background to the story, take a look at this article).

This book deserves to be in every school and read in every family for a whole plethora of reasons. It’s bold, tackling gender issues that many adults might skirt around: I love Pomranz daring to use the word “girly“, and it certainly helped us talk about how being a girl interested in ‘boys’ things’ is often more accepted by society than a boy interested in ‘girls’ things’. It’s big hearted; not just the warm, loving family Raffi is part of, but also his supportive school. It shows all sorts of children playing together, with different skin colours and different physical abilities, as well as different interests. It’s a joyously inclusive book, which tackles big themes gently and playfully.

Margaret Chamberlain’s illustrations are delightful. She uses colour very cleverly to portray moods and to mirror how much more interesting – indeed colourful – the world is for a diverse range of characters; wouldn’t the world be a dull grey place if we all liked only the same things?

A book about loneliness, respect, difference, and learning to trust your instincts even when it means you don’t follow the crowd, Made by Raffi is a vital, delightful and unusual book I urge you to share.

M and J were recently shown how to knit by their Grandma, and reading Made by Raffi offered the ideal opportunity to practice their recently acquired skills. (Here are some Youtube tutorials we found helpful to refresh our memories of what Granny had taught us: Casting on, knit stitch, casting off.

Having a ball of wool with lots of different colours on it was an effective tool in motivating the kids; each child would knit one or two colours and then hand the needles and ball over to the other. It gave them easy targets to aim for, and I’m sure this is partly why they completed a long scarf far more quickly than I was expecting.

Whilst knitting we’ve been listening to:

Other activities which would go well with reading Made by Raffi include:

Other picture /illustrated books which feature knitting include:

If you like the sound of Made by Raffi and are anywhere near Edinburgh in August, don’t miss the chance to meet author Craig Pomranz talking about his book as part of the Edinburgh Book Festival.

Disclosure: I received a free review copy of this book from the publishers.

Image: Paul Reynolds

Image: DomiKetu

Image: Merlijn Hoek

Kittens and Cute. They go together like purple and prickles, tigers and teatime, picnics and lashings of ginger beer.

And in Max the Brave by Ed Vere (@ed_vere) we meet another very cute kitten. He’s small, and black and has big bright eyes.

But even though every reader who picks up this book will definitely find Max adorable and charming, Max himself definitely does not want to be called cute. He wants to be big, grown up and brave. And to prove his mettle he’s going to hunt down his nemesis… a mouse.

But therein lies a problem. Max does not know what a mouse looks like.

The kitten’s not-knowing-any-better does indeed result in displays of exuberant courage and kids every where will identify with Max’s desire to be be hailed a hero, his refusal to lose face and the simple joy and playfulness of the chase to say nothing of the everyday challenges which arise from simply having to learn how the world works and what it made up of.

This book is an example of storytelling – in both words and pictures – whittled down to the very purest. With only a word or two on many pages, plain typesetting, apparently simple, unadorned illustrations (where much of the impact comes from the page colour and large empty spaces rather than highly detailed or vast drawings). In its bareness there is a direct line to the story, the humour, the characters. There’s nowhere for this story to hide, no embellishments, no fancy details, and this clarity gives the storytelling a freshness that is bold and very exciting.

Restraint may be present in Vere’s brushstrokes (he captures moments of determination, puzzlement, fear poetically and precisely – just take a close look at Max’s eyes on each page to get a sense of what I mean), but this is vividly contrasted with an exuberant use of colour to fill the pages. From Meg and Mog to several fabulous books by Tim Hopgood and one of my most recent reviews, The Cake, there’s a great tradition in picture books of banishing white pages and using glorious swathes of intense colour to the very edge of the pages. One could do some fascinating research into background page colour and emotions at any given point in the story; here, for example, the pages are red when Max is annoyed, and blue with things are quieting down and Max is feeling soothed.

Readers and listeners to Max the Brave may hear echoes of the Gruffalo’s Child with its themes of bravery and danger as a result of not knowing what something looks like, but perhaps more satisfying will be the recognition of characters (or at least their close relatives) from other books by Vere. Is that Fingers McGraw being sneaky once again? Could that be the monster from Bedtime for Monsters making a guest appearance? And indeed, is Max related somehow to the Bungles in Too Noisy? How lovely to be able to imagine these characters having such an real, independent life that they can walk out of one book and into another.

Packed with so much laughter and sweet appeal this book will prove a hit with many, many families. It’s certainly one we’ve taken to our heart – so much so that the kids wanted to make their own Max and retell his story in their own inimitable style.

First J sewed a black kitty out of felt, with pipe cleaners for arms, legs (and one stuffed in Max’s tale so it could be posed.

M (pen name: Quenelda the Brave) then used our new Max to create montages for each page in Ed Vere’s gorgeous book. She modelled her scenes quite precisely, took a photo, and then (as a veteran of adding moustaches and more to photos in the newspaper) edited her photos in a graphics editor to add her own sprinkling of magic.

Here are a couple of pages showing Ed’s original work (reproduced with permission) and the corresponding scene M created:

“This is Max. Doesn’t he look sweet!”

“Max looks so sweet that sometimes people dress him up in ribbons.”

“Max does not like being dressed up in ribbons.

Because Max is a fearless kitten.
Max is a brave kitten.
Miax is a kitten who chases mice.”

Here are a couple more spreads created by M (with guest appearances by Elmer as the elephant in Vere’s book, and a Wild Thing who is mistaken for a mouse.)

M had enormous fun (and showed a lot of dedication!) with this – she’s recreated the entire book out of her love for Max. I wonder what Max will get you and your kids doing…

Here’s some of the music we listened to whilst making Max and our fan-fiction:

Other activities which would go well alongside reading Max the Brave include:

What’s the cutest book you’ve read recently?

Disclosure: I received a free, review copy of Max the Brave from the publisher.

Image: Marine del Castell

If you were trying to support and encourage a young environmentalist, feminist or …anarchist (!) what books would you suggest for them?

I might give the newly re-issued Barbapapa’s Ark, or the simple but very effective What are you playing at?

Or if you were simply looking for a great read for your kids about making the world more peaceful and fairer where would you turn?

I might suggest The Arrival or The Island.

And if I were looking for more thought provoking books (as indeed I always am), I’d turn to the Little Rebels Children’s Book Award. Now in its second year, this is an award for radical fiction for children aged 0-12. Last year’s winner was the marvellous and moving Azzi in Between by Sarah Garland (my review can be found here), and this year’s winner will be announced in just a couple of week’s time.

The books shortlisted for this year’s award

The books, authors and illustrators in the running of the Little Rebels Children’s Book Award 2014 are:

I recently put a pretty tricky question to those authors who made it onto the shortlist:

If it were possible with a wave of a wand what would you change about the way the world works, to make it either more inclusive, less discriminatory, or a place which was more just and equitable?

Here’s how they replied…

Nicola Davies
Tricky. I have one practical thing and one that you really would need a magic wand for. The practical one is to make sure that every girl on the planet gets and education; women with confidence, education and power are the single biggest force for change.

And the magic wand one is to give all bankers, politicians, drug lords…all those in positrons of power over others to see the consequences of each of their actions on the wider world, as clearly as a movie and to feel them, as physical pain. I think that might be really helpful.

Deborah Chancellor
This one’s easy. I’d make sure half the people in every single profession were women. With my magic wand, fifty percent of all politicians, judges, business chiefs, religious leaders, generals (etc) would be female. Without a doubt, the world would be a fairer, more inclusive and generally more harmonious place. Perhaps one day we’ll make this utopia happen, but we’re still a long way off.

Andrea Beaty
I would create shoes that would transport people into the lives of others to show how their actions and attitudes affect other people. Many of the world’s problems would quickly straighten out if people who take advantage of others or inflict suffering upon others would have to walk a mile in the shoes of the people they disrespect, harm, or disregard. Perhaps Rosie Revere could invent the walk-a-mile shoes. She is very clever! Until we have walk-a-mile shoes, though, we have literature. It lets us each see the world through other people’s eyes. To walk a mile in their shoes. It gives us empathy. And that is more powerful than any magic wand.

An interior spread from Rosie Revere Engineer. Click for larger image.

Gillian Cross
If I could take one action to make the world fairer and more equal I would make education available and affordable for all children across the world, especially girls.

Gill Lewis
I would wave wand to enable us to be able to change our skin with people and animals…to walk a mile in their shoes…or hooves!

In Harper Lee’s story, To Kill a Mockingbird, Atticus gives Scout a piece of moral advice;
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”

Most prejudice or discrimination is born of ignorance, indifference and fear of the unknown. To truly understand another’s situation is to live their life, to see the world from their point of view. I would extend this to animals too, for us to live an animal’s life; to live as elephant, an eagle or a honeybee and to be able to see the adverse effects we humans have on the natural world and to understand the consequences of our actions.

Unfortunately we don’t have magic wands, but we have the next best thing…books!

Books transport us into other worlds and give us some insight and understanding of others’ lives.

Until I find that magic wand, I’ll keep reading and writing books!

Unfortunately Geraldine McCaughrean and John Boyne were not able to take part; I would have been very interested to hear what they might have chosen to do with a wave of a wand.

And as for me? What would I magic up? I found myself nodding wildly at all the responses above, but if I were to offer something different here’s what I might conjure up: If looking just at the bookworld, I’d get rid of gendered marketing and watch with great interest to see how it shakes up (or otherwise) book sales. On a bigger scale, I’d ban private car ownership, and invest massively in public transport. It would do wonders for not only environmental health, but also personal well being I believe. And if I could move mountains, I’d change how economies work so they don’t have to be predicated on consumption.

What would you do with a wave of your wand to make the world a better place?

If you are after further interesting reading matter to foster your own little rebels, you might enjoy looking through this list of books for children and young people as compiled on the Marxist Internet Archive. “Some of these books were written to be expressly radical, and others need a stretch to find political implications.” Thanks go to Betsy Bird for alerting me to this bibliography.

Little Rebels Children’s Book Award is given by the Alliance of Radical Booksellers and administered by Letterbox Library and the winner will be announced at the London Radical Bookfair on May 10th 2014.

The last couple of weeks on the blog have really reminded me how books can take you everywhere and anywhere. From “pink” books, to the Holocaust, to environmental campaigning, I do love the journey my blog takes me on.

Today’s roving brings us to contemplate engineering and what constitutes failure, with Rosie Revere, Engineer by Andrea Beaty, illustrated by David Roberts, a follow up to this same team’s ingenious Iggy Peck, Architect.

Rosie dreams of being an engineer. She loves collecting rubbish and creating contraptions. But people laugh at her creations and her emerging confidence is soon crushed. When Great Great Aunt Rose tells young Rosie how she built aeroplanes during the war, Rosie is once again inspired. But will Rosie’s engineering work this time? What if her plans fail?

An upbeat rhyming tale about the value of trying and trying again, Rosie Revere, Engineer encourages readers to hold on to their passions, and to never give up, even if things don’t work out the first time. Great for encouraging a can-do approach to whatever life throws at you, Rosie’s tale also leads naturally into discussions about women’s roles during the Second World War, and women who have broken the mould in various fields, notably that of flight.

Rosie is creative, thoughtful, passionate, full of a sense of fun, and with more than a nod to Rosie the Riveter, not least with her matching headscarf, and the slogan “We Can Do It” on her flying machine.

Roberts’ illustrations are a scrapheap challenge (junkyard ward) junkie’s dream come true. Littered with curious details to pore over (can you spot a Wild Thing, or follow the unwritten story of the baby bird?) the colours are bright and pen drawings clear. Often on expanses of white, Roberts’ work is vibrant, crisp and fresh, perfectly matching the confident and purposeful message at the heart of the book.

There is a decidedly American flavour to the text (some rhymes, I assume, work better with certain US accents than my UK one, and cheese spray may seem rather mind boggling to many on this side of the pond) so a little contextualisation might be handy, but my young engineers didn’t bat an eyelid at this. They were simply delighted by this Rosie and her take on life. Spunky, funky and full of fun and inspiration, three cheers for Rosie Revere!

To go alongside reading Rosie Revere, Engineer I set up a little after-school structural engineering project involving essential tools of the trade: tooth picks and sweets.

The aim of the game was to see what we could build and how we could build it using just these two materials, plus some imagination, and a little bit of concentration…

Space rockets and climbing frames soon rose from the kitchen table.

A spider’s web of construction emerged, with lots of experimental investigation as to what made our feats of engineering stand strong.

We also got to explore the roles of different materials, as we quickly discovered that most dolly mixtures aren’t very good for this type of project, whilst mini wine gums and gum drops are excellent. (If you want to go for just one, the wine gums are a better bet as they are less messy; the gum drops litter the kitchen table with sugar sprinkles, and also make fingers stickier).

We all thoroughly enjoyed this engineering project, and M is very keen to try it again soon to model chemical compound structure (her idea!); different sweets for different elements? Definitely sounds fun to me.

Whilst designing, engineering and building we listened to some brilliant music:

Other activities which would be great fun to get up to alongside reading Rosie Revere, Engineer include:

Don’t miss the teacher’s guide to Rosie Revere either.

What are you going to engineer today?

Disclosure: I recieved a free reivew copy of Rosie Revere, Engineer from the publishers.

When browsing for new books to read with my girls, I generally avoid anything which is pink (or associated shades of purple and red) and sparkly. I know lots of parents don’t; for many it’s a useful pointer, and for publishers it’s seen as a way to boost sales. But for me, it’s often shorthand for books I expect to promote a simpering, narrow world view, where what’s important for girls is making themselves look pretty so they can be rescued.

Pink AND bravery, imagination, creativity, strength (physical and of character), and wisdom don’t seem to be natural bedfellows in picture books (though no doubt you’ll be able to tell me of exceptions which prove this rule).

So given my aversion to pink, I would never have picked up The Fairytale Hairdresser and Sleeping Beauty written by Abie Longstaff and illustrated by Lauren Beard; It’s full of pinks, and liberally sprinkled with glittery bits.

But a review copy came through the letter box, and J fell hard for it. Something about it really, REALLY appealed to her and given her total passion for this book I felt honour bound to review it here. But how to review a book where my starting point was one of reluctance?

Kittie Lacey is a hairdresser, in a land populated by fairytale and book characters. Everyone from Alice (of Wonderland fame) to Little Red Riding Hood, the Owl and the Pussycat enjoy visiting her salon. One day, visiting fairies tell how their friend Princess Rose has fallen into an enchanted deep sleep, and only a kiss from her true love will wake her up. Does Kittie know anyone who could help? Could it possibly be that Prince Florian, a garden designer (the clue’s in the name) who visited Kittie’s salon earlier in the week, might be the man to save the day?

The setting is beguiling, especially to book lovers; like Blyton’s The Magic Faraway Tree, or many of Jacqueline Wilson’s books, there are lots of references to other story characters, making them all seem real. If they can walk out of one book into another, they must have a life of their own, which doesn’t just flow through the pens of their original creators; children will love spotting “old friends”.

There’s an interesting mix of old and new, traditional and modern; Neither the prince nor the princess are people of leisure – they actually work for other people – but yes [SPOILER ALERT], it is a kiss from the prince that makes everything all right. Kittie is very practical and clear headed, an independent. successful woman, and yet making the fairies pretty is seen as the best way to cheer them up. I didn’t feel very comfortable with this message that being pretty = being happy, especially when that prettiness is about adornment, clothes and hair-do’s, rather than (though I don’t like the phrase) “inner beauty” (though of course the two are not mutually exclusive).

Reading a book with someone who is totally passionate about the book – in this case, my youngest daughter – is always a delight, and so I’ve ended up loving The Fairytale Hairdresser and Sleeping Beauty, despite a personally slightly complicated relationship to it.

Now it so happens that earlier this year I met the author of The Fairytale Hairdresser and Sleeping Beauty, Abie Longstaff at the FCBG Conference. I think she’d agree with me when I said we got on wonderfully well, and had a great deal of fun together. It says a great deal about the friendship we struck up, that when I approached her about my “complicated relationship” with her Fairytale Hairdresser (there are 3 books already out featuring Kittie, and a 4th is on the way), she was very happy to talk to me about this series. Here’s how our conversation about her choices in this series of books went:

Playing by the book: Why did you choose to write about a hairdresser, and not say a doctor or an artist?

Abie Longstaff: When I designed the fairy tale world, I really wanted to make it ordinary. I wanted to reflect the kind of jobs that the majority of normal people have. I deliberately didn’t want the royals swanning around being dressed up smartly and not doing jobs. I feel ordinary craft jobs are not respected enough in today’s society and there is unfortunately a stigma against being a plumber or nursery carer or gardener or other job seen as low level (leading to teachers and nurses being paid far too little, but I’ll keep my rant short!). I also wanted to choose jobs that very young children would understand – so, shop keepers (Red Riding Hood), builders (Three Pigs), gardeners (Prince), hairdressers (Kittie). All my characters, whether boy or girl, have ordinary jobs; one that children can imagine, and play themselves. Because they all have ordinary jobs, there is a sense of equality in the community and the books are very much about helping your neighbour by doing a job for each other.

For Kittie, I chose a hairdresser because, as children, my sisters and I used to play hairdressers. We loved the business side – beautification wasn’t our main aim; we wanted to run the salon as well as do our dolls’ hair. We used to spend hours making shampoos, writing price lists and making bookings for all kinds of famous people. So I made Kittie a business woman as well as a hairdresser. She lives above her own salon and works hard at her life. In Cinderella, part of the ethos of the book is that by learning a skill, you can enhance your life. Cinderella comes to work in the salon without a skill but day by day she learns hairdressing. Cinderella’s main progress in the book is to have learned this new skill, which she continues after her marriage.

Just as a side point – I was asked to a festival in Bristol, for a Sure Start project in an underprivileged area of the city. The aim of the project was to get children into reading. One little girl came up to me at the end and said her mum was a hairdresser. Her mother said my books were the first she had seen that had a hairdresser as the main character.

Playing by the book: One of my concerns with “pink” books is how they often promote the importance of looking good, not for oneself, but to catch the attention of another. Spending money and time on fashion and accessories is promoted as a worthwhile way for a girl to spend her time. This is not something I wish to encourage my girls to believe. Where do you stand on the dressing up, and putting on the bling?

Abie Longstaff: I have tried to be really careful and not make the dressing up about beautification. In all the books the characters need their hair done to solve a problem (Rapunzel), to cheer themselves up (the fairies in Sleeping Beauty), to disguise themselves (the plot in the future Snow White book) and definitely not in order to ‘catch a man’. I also show male characters having their hair done; Father Christmas is a regular customer, so are the seven dwarves and, in Sleeping Beauty, it’s the Prince who comes in for a trim.

In Cinderella, I really didn’t like the original story, where Cinderella has to dress up and look rich to attract the prince (so much so that he doesn’t recognise her when she is poor and she has to try on a shoe in order to be identified), so I made my couple meet while she is still ragged and poor and the prince loves her then. At the ball she tells him she isn’t wearing her own dress, to make it clear to him she is out of place, and he loves her still. After they are married Cinderella goes back to wearing her ordinary raggedy clothes, because they are a part of who she is.

Playing by the book:Thinking about messages books can send out to kids, especially young girls, about the roles they can play in life, how did you choose the different women in your versions of the fairy tales?

Abie Longstaff: I have taken care to portray a range of different women in my books. There is the stay at home wife (Rapunzel), the working wife (Cinderella) and the working singleton (Kittie, who isn’t interested in getting a boyfriend – she likes her work and focuses on that). For me, feminism is about choice and I want girls to see a whole range of choices open to them.

Interestingly, when children come up to me to talk about the book, Kittie is the character they want to hear about, not Rapunzel. One little girl asked me, in awe; “Do you actually know Kittie Lacey?” – the children want to be Kittie, with her cool salon and her modern, independent life.

Playing by the book:You wrote these stories, rather than illustrated them. How did you feel when the illustrator and editor came back to you with the pinks and glitter?

Abie Longstaff:I agree the book covers are sparkly. They are pink Rapunzel), purple (Cinderella), red (Sleeping Beauty), and Snow White will be green. But the insides are much funky in a Manga-ish style. Kittie has her hairdryer on a tool belt and she is a bit super-hero like.

I accept that the sparkle and pink tones might put some people off, but the messages in the books are pro-opportunity. I guess I think that, if it makes more children read my books then at least I know the messages will be getting through at some level! I also know boys who love the books and, when I read them in schools the boys love the character spotting and stories too.

Playing by the book:It may come as a surprise to readers of your books that you’re not a full time author. Tell us what you day job is…

Abie Longstaff: I trained as a barrister originally. Now I work for a charity that looks at the effects of policing on society. Because my work often involves justice and human rights, I take real care to make sure all my ‘bad’ characters have a legal and proportionate punishment, as opposed to other fairy tale punishments. They go to jail or do some form of community service. I know this sounds like a small thing but it’s really important to me!

My HUGE thanks to Abie Longstaff (@AbieLongstaff) for responding to my questions with such generosity of spirit. Our conversation has certainly encourage me to re-read her books with new enthusiasm. Perhaps most importantly, she’s created a series of books which has completely captured the imagination of my youngest, and for that I’m hugely grateful.

When met with the boundless enthusiasm for this book emanating from J, I had to enter into the spirit of things. Yes, J and M could play hairdressers. Yes, they could do my hair.

Out came all the clips…

And I sat patiently whilst they transformed my hair with ribbons, combs, bands and more…

Whilst it may not be a look I’d adopt very often outside of our home, we had tremendous fun for an hour or so!

There’s something about letting the kids do what they want to their grown up which is very powerful; the kids set about decorating me with relish and delight, and it reminded me of when they were allowed to tattoo me (see here!); what is it about transforming your grown-up that is so delicious for a child?

So…. after all this, where do you stand on “pink” books? Will this post get you to look again at them?

Disclosure: I received a free review copy of The Fairytale Hairdresser and Sleeping Beauty by Abie Longstaff from the publisher, and as you’ve probably gather, I consider the author to be a personal friend.

There are not many books which give me nightmares but Snow Bear by Piers Harper is one. It was a favourite of both girls when they were toddlers, even though I couldn’t stand the sight of it (you can read more in my review here). But months, even years, after I last read that book, it recently came back to haunt me with a vengeance.

Piers Harper’s Snow Bear is about a young polar bear who has lost his mum. A young Inuit girl helps to reunite mother and cub and all live happily ever after.

Photo: ucumari

Fine.

Snow. Being lost and then reunited. Cuddly animals. All good. At least for my kids.

But can you imagine that sinking feeling in my stomach when last month a new book arrived for review, a book about a polar bear cub who has lost his mother, but who is reunited with her thanks to a young girl?

Not only that, it too is called The Snow Bear and it’s by an author I associated (without every previously having read anything by her) with soppy, girly stories full of fluff and nonsense?

Uh-uh. No Way. Hide it to the back of the cupboard. Give it away to some unsuspecting soul.

I was not going to go through another round of polar bear hell.

But then the twinkling stars conspired against me. M needed a new book to read (when J has ballet lessons on a Saturday morning we have a little routine going whereby I wrap up a new-to-M book/comic and give it to M to read – a Saturday morning treat instead of sweets) and I had nothing in the house that I could offer. Well nothing other than a book I didn’t want to share.

But aren’t I a book champion? Don’t I believe that all reading is good reading? Don’t I try to be that sort of gatekeeper where the gates are always open allowing a flood of variety through rather than thinking I know best about what ought to be locked up and kept from prying eyes? Don’t I believe, on some level, that every book has a reader somewhere out there for whom it will be just right?

All this as preamble to get to the point where I let my personal demons out of the wardrobe and gave M The Snow Bear by Holly Web.

And of course, M devoured this book. She LOVED this book. She was so excited and happy to read this book. M loves reading, but even I was a little taken aback by the enthusiasm with which she talked about this book and INSISTED that I read it.

So I read it. I read it on my own.

Uh-oh.

It looked like I was going to have to admit I was wrong. It looked like I was going to have to do that hardest of things and change my opinion.

To be doubly sure, I read it again, this time aloud as a bedtime read to J.

Double Uh-oh.

J adored the book, and even on a second read I still thought this book was really rather good.

It’s about people being kind and thoughtful, it’s about family bonds and tensions, it’s about love, loss and longing, and it’s got a real air of authenticity about it.

From the historical / geographical / social details of Inuit life to the emotional world of a young child, Holly Web has written a story which rings true (even in that final moment when you have to decide has it all been a dream or not).

For a young independent reader it’s a wonderful book. It looks and feels lovely to hold – a proper hardback, with a little bit of sparkle. Black and white illustrations every few pages help draw you in and then the magic of the tale takes over. There’s the adventure of making a real igloo and camping out in it, there’s the delight of listening to your grandpa tell what seem like impossible tales. There’s the reassurance that whenever you’re lost, you will always end up being found and reunited with those that matter to you.

So don’t let any misapprehension you might have about soppy girly stories (or polar bears) put you off picking up this book. If you need any more persuading check out Polly’s brilliant review on her blog, The Little Wooden Horse (interesting not least because she reviews as a mother of two boys) or Library Mice’s review which include a video of the author talking about her book.

Given the season, we decide we’d make some Christmas tree ornaments to remind us of Holly Webb’s Snow Bear. Like the hostess with the mostest I was able to conjure up out of General Supplies some wooden die-cut polar bears (bought several years ago from Hobbycraft) which the girls painted and then covered in sparkles.

Some drilling and thread later our first tree decorations were ready:.

Whilst making our polar bear decoration and banishing nightmares we listened to:

Other activities which would be great fun to try along side reading The Snow Bear by Holly Web include:

When was the last time you had to change your mind about a book? When was the last time you came face to face with your own book prejudices?

Disclosure: I received a free copy of The Snow Bear by Holly Web from the book’s publishers. I was under no obligation to review the book and I received no money for this post.

Today sees the start of National Science & Engineering Week in the UK. I’ll be celebrating it with books of course, and so the focus for the next couple of posts here on the blog is… INVENTIONS!

This afternoon I’m in school doing a book+craft session based on Wouter van Reek‘s Coppernickel: The Invention. After reading the book together, the kids and I will be making our own inventions using the piles and piles of recycling I’ve been hoarding since Christmas. I’ll be letting each of them loose with a roll of masking tape and asking them to invent something they’d like to see in their school. Should be chaotic and fun! To give you a flavour of the book you might enjoy this animation based on it:

At home this week, however, we’ve been reading Usborne’s The Story of Inventions, by Anna Claybourne, illustrated by Adam Larkum and designed by Steve Wood.

With the look and feel of a notebook full of doodles and scribbled notes on ideas (just the sort of thing a budding inventor might carry around to record their bright ideas in), The Story of Inventions covers everything from aeroplanes to zips, writing to radar, and candles to crisp bags, looking at how they were invented, who came up with the idea, and how the ideas developed.

This is a book that makes you want to read it! Every page has a fascinating story on it; you’ll meet characters who were often either slightly crazy, or incredibly bright, or just plain brave. You’ll learn new words (eg celerifere, Gossamer Condor), you’ll learn about history, and you’ll end up looking afresh at the things around you which we often take for granted nowadays.

There are no long chunks of text in this book; rather, there are lots of short paragraphs of just a sentence or two. And everywhere you turn there are fun illustrations (drawings, rather than photographs) of inventions (some look like simplified technical drawings, others show the invention in development or use).

Content, illustration and design all add up to a book M has returned to again and again. I’ll certainly be recommending it to school, and especially for older kids who may be a little reluctant to read for pleasure.

Having

The One and Only Stuey Lewis by Jane Schoenberg, illustrated by Cambria Evans (nominated for the Cybils by Sarah Wendorf at Page in Training) is the first book I’ve read with my book-judging hat on, and if all the books I read as part of the Cybils judging process are as good as this, I’m in for a really wonderful next few months.

Four perceptive, funny stories following a school year in the life of The One and Only Stuey Lewis make up this Early Chapter Book. The book opens at the start of Stuey’s second school year with him full of worries about what the year, his school, his teacher will be like. All his fears are magnified because he feels he’s not a great reader and doesn’t want anyone to know this secret of his.

Later in the school year we meet Stuey conjuring up schemes to collect as much Halloween candy as possible, and then learning tough lessons about being his own man, stepping out of the shadow of his big and brilliant brother Anthony. By the time the school year draws to a close, Stuey is actually sorry to see the summer holidays start: It’s been a great year for him, he’s learned to read well, he’s been brave and found his own way, and he’s discovered that he can survive, that he can actually make anything work.

This book has many strengths but I particularly enjoyed it for its humour, its warmth and lightness of touch. It’s a book full of love and optimism, without ever being patronising or sickly sweet. I think its an ideal book for a kid in his or her second year in school to read themselves, although perhaps at the start of the year it will still be a little challenging a read for many children.

The physical book is a very nice thing too – just the right size and weight for young hands to hold and feel like they’ve got a “proper” book in their mitts; hardback but pocket sized, with a sprinkling of fun illustrations that match the tenor of the text to a T.

Although with a clearly American setting (Stuey is a second grade student, football is called soccer, the tradition of Halloween candy collecting plays a major role) I think this book will be enjoyed by 6/7/8 year old kids across the world – kids whether in Sydney, Nova Scotia or Sydney, Australia may worry about what their teachers will be like, how they are going to deal with kids in their classes they don’t get on with, and what skills they’re going to need to survive school. With The One and Only Stuey Lewis in their hands and heads, they’ll feel more confident, more reassured, and will no doubt have a good giggle along the way.

Disclaimer: This revie

My official swap partner for Perfect Picture Books by Post was Beth and her homeschooling family in New Hampshire. They chose to send us a Caldecott medal winning picture book set in their home state, Ox-cart Man by Donald Hall, illustrated by Barbara Cooney.

Photo: VinothChandar

Beth couldn’t have known that right here, right now this is the perfect picture book for us – I’m currently reading M Little House on the Prairie, and as soon as we’d finished reading Ox-cart Man she immediately made a connection between the two. Somehow seeing the life she’s listening to shown in another book really thrilled her and ever since it has been inspiring hours and hours of role play.

Ox-cart Man depicts the rhythm of a year in the life of a New England farmer and his family in the early to mid 1800s. Opening with the farmer packing up his ox-cart with goods he and his family have grown, made and prepared throughout the preceding 12 months, we follow his journey through russet and gold autumnal countryside to Portsmouth Market, where he sells his wares, right down to his ox and cart. Using his earnings to buy a few store goods for his family he returns home to start preparing for the following year’s market, with his first task being to build a new yoke and cart.

Photo: sskennel

The tale is told in a sparse and unadorned manner (for example, barely any adjectives are used), mirroring the family life being depicted. But in the eyes of a 21st century girl it is a tale full of wonder. I think M found it both slightly baffling and rather thrilling to see how much the family makes and grows for itself (even though we make and grow quite a lot ourselves, at least by urban, British standards). Baffling because of the simple lack of “stuff” and the value placed on nowadays seemingly almost valueless items like a single needle, and thrilling because it appeals to every young child’s sense of independence and belief that they can do everything themselves.

Barbara Cooney’s illustrations match the simplicity of the text. They are unfussy, yet full of historical detail and

Although it’s been a while since we had a Fantastic Fiction for Kids post I’m thrilled this week to be able to bring you another post in the series all about brilliant picture books which share a common theme, which this week is independence.

Today’s contributor is Stephanie Burgis. Stephanie was born in the US but has ended up in Wales via Vienna, Pittsburgh, and Yorkshire. She’s a full-time writer, having published almost thirty short stories for adults. Her first published novel, A Most Improper Magick came out yesterday in the UK! Many congratulations to you, Stephanie! Stephanie’s husband is also an author, and he and Stephanie have a young son, who I’m sure gets read to a great deal what with 2 writers as parents!

Now, without further ado, let me hand you over to Stephanie:

One of my [Stephanie's] favourite parts of parenting so far has been getting to discover great new books together with my son. Even before he was born, I’d started collecting some of my old favourites from my own childhood, but for this post I wanted to talk about three books we discovered together and both love. The linking theme is independence: all three of these books feature characters going out into the wide world without their parents, dealing with strange adults and facing the unknown, just like every little kid eventually has to do.

I’m Not Scared by Jonathan Allen

Baby Owl ventures out into the woods at night, carrying his stuffed owl with him. He’s not scared…or at least, he won’t admit he is, despite all the interfering adults who keep on startling him by popping up out of the darkness to worry about his feelings.

My son and I laugh and laugh when we read this book. The writing is sharp and funny, the pictures are hilarious, and I love that at the end, when Papa Owl whispers: “It’s okay to be a little bit scared of the dark,” feisty Baby Owl immediately says to his stuffed owl: “He means you, Owly.” Baby Owl is not about to learn any silly moral lessons himself…but his story is wonderfully reassuring, as well as funny, for little kids to read. (And as a parent, I’m intensely grateful for picture books that make me laugh on the hundredth re-read!)

There’s an Ouch in my Pouch! by 1 Comments on Fantastic Fiction for Kids – Independence, last added: 8/2/2010