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The word “intern” evokes many reactions—most of which are somewhat unsavory. Before becoming an intern, I held my own prejudices: I thought an internship meant low pay, long hours, and repetitive work—a test of one’s motivation to become, in my case, an editor. As it turns out, being an intern at Stone Arch Books has been something entirely different.

I had scoured the SAB website for information about the company prior to applying. What struck me about SAB was the constant focus on getting kids interested in reading—something so important in the education of today’s youth. I knew that this was a special opportunity. Instead of near-crippling nervousness before the interview, I felt giddy, and any anxiety felt more like anticipation than worry.

Sitting down to interview with Stone Arch’s editorial director, Michael Dahl, was a unique experience. Rather than pose the regular questions that I’ve fielded elsewhere, Michael asked me about my opinions on the education of children, my favorite fields of literature, and how my inclinations in these areas would suit me for the SAB internship. We discussed James Joyce, graphic novels, and civic responsibility. A short while later, I was given the position.

My first day of work was actually Michael Dahl’s birthday. At our celebratory lunch that day, I had the opportunity to get to know the small, friendly staff. My supervisor joked that I shouldn’t expect every day at SAB to be as fun and exciting as my first, but she was wrong; my time here has never felt like a chore, even while I’m doing the occasional mundane, but necessary, task.

What, then, you might ask, have I worked on during my time here? A (very brief) list: I edited a fantastic series of 12 graphic novels (out next season—I’m certain it will be a big hit with fans of our other Graphic Sparks books), worked on spreadsheets, filled out applications for the Library of Congress, proofread hundreds of pages, created the additional information at the end of our books, attended graphic novel storyboard meetings . . . the list goes on and on.

Through it all, I’ve felt a sense of pride and purpose in my work. Stone Arch Books is the kind of company that is formed when you take dedicated, thoughtful, creative people and give them a task they can believe in.


--Sean Tulien
Intern, Stone Arch Books

I’d never before read anything by Nancy Farmer (although as a former children’s bookseller, of course I knew about her) until I picked up A Girl Named Disaster to read as the first Tiger’s Choice. I was lucky to have found it–this book is an outstanding piece of fiction that can be read and enjoyed by a doddering fifty-nine-year-old like me or by people who are substantially younger.

In an earlier posting by Corinne on PaperTigers, the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators in the Philippines pointed out that children’s literature from different cultures is shaped by differing values. This is made intriguingly clear by the story of Nhamo, the girl who leaves her tribe in search of her one living parent and a family that will be truly hers. Her quest is an adventure, and a solitary one, that takes her into a world populated only by animals. Unlike similar stories written with a differing cultural perspective (Julie of the Wolves, My Side of the Mountain, Island of the Blue Dolphins), this book does not show an anthropomorphic relationship between Nhamo and the baboons who are her neighbors. A lonely and frightened child, Nhamo forges a relationship with a world of the spirits rather than with the animal kingdom. She sustains herself through stories that she knows and loves about beings of an unseen realm, and in her dreams and in her waking imagination, these are the figures that guide her, and who allow her to bring out menacing, and hitherto unexplored, parts of herself by cloaking them under different names and the persona of spirits.

Her three-part story begins with elements of Cinderella, sweeps into a Robinson Crusoe-like world, and ends with a modern-day transformation and the fulfillment of a quest. At almost 300 pages, it is longer than many pieces of fiction for children, and it contains an impressive body of information within its compelling story. Anyone who reads it will be given a sense of place that only someone who has lived in that part of Africa could provide.

It could be a problematic choice to read aloud to a classroom of boys and girls. Although Nhamo’s adventures, and her adventuresome spirit, will appeal to both genders, the author’s frankness when writing about menstruation and other physical functions could be difficult in a mixed-gender classroom if read aloud. It is, however, a dazzling choice for a parent-child book group, or to give to a reluctant reader, or to enjoy as a solitary pleasure when in need of something absorbing and magical to read.