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Wild
By Emily Hughes
Flying Eye Books
$16.95
ISBN: 978-1-909263-08-6
Ages 3-7
On shelves now.

There lives in every child an animal. A wild, untamable creature that will emerge without fail at the worst possible moments, rendering its parents helpless and hopeless all in one swoop. There also exist in this world picture books that touch on this restrained/free duality. You might even argue that the BEST children’s books touch on this in some way (Where the Wild Things Are being the most obvious example). In 2013 alone we saw Peter Brown’s Mr. Tiger Goes Wild talk about the need in every child for order as well as wild uninhibited freedom. Wild, in contrast, is a simpler story. Following just one girl from her path from nature to the city and back again, it has a different lesson in mind. It is all well and good for some to find a happy medium between chaos and order but for some kids chaos is clearly MUCH more appealing!

“No one remembered how she came to the woods, but all knew it was right.” A green-haired baby smiles contentedly on a forest floor as a bear, bird, and fox look on. Over the years the bird teaches her to speak, the bear to eat, and the fox to play. Unfortunately a hunter’s trap catches the child by her foliage-like hair and a pair of baffled hunters takes her back with them to civilization. There the child is forced to reside in the home of a well-meaning psychiatrist and his wife. Attempts to normalize her fail resoundingly and at last she flees back to the wild, the family dog and cat in tow. After all, “you cannot tame something so happily wild.”

A British/Hawaiian author/illustrator, Emily Hughes’ art is fascinating to look at, partly because it’s so incredibly European. It’s something about the eyes, I think. Or maybe just the way the landscape and the animals intertwine. The bears, for example, reminded me of nothing so much as the ones found in The Bear’s Song by Benjamin Chaud (a Frenchman). The heroine herself is somehow big-eyed without devolving into preciousness (a delicate balance). Her plant-like hair almost looks like it might be sentient at times. People in general are rendered with a fine hand. My favorite shot is of the wild child being brought to civilization by the two clearly shell-shocked hunters. As the men, and even their dog, drive in the rain, their eyes ringed with worry, the child sits on the front seat with only her eyes visible over the dash. She is clearly silent and livid.

It’s interesting to look at the settings and colors in the book as well. As the girl is raised there isn’t a white page to be seen until the last fateful line of “And she understood, and was happy.” Then, when humanity intervenes, the white pages begin to proliferate. Interior spreads are either grey/green or peach/brown and nothing else. It’s as much a relief to the reader’s eye as it is the child’s spirit when she escapes again into the wild. I was particularly pleased too with the two-page wordless humanless spread displaying only the child’s wanton path of destruction. As for the wild itself, here we have a utopian Eden, where animals might eat the occasional fish but never a green-haired baby child. Or, for that matter, one another.

One quibble I have with the book is the final line. It ends on an ellipsis, you see. Now I’m as big a fan of your average everyday ellipses as the next gal. And I understand that there must have been long editorial discussions with the author/illustrator that justified its presence on the last page. I just have absolutely no idea what those justifications could possibly be. The line reads, “Because you cannot tame something so happily wild…” Maybe the dot dot dot is there to suggest that this isn’t the end of the story? I haven’t a better idea.

Oh, they’ll tag this as an eco-centric morality tale, I’m sure. Wild/nature = good, civilization/standardization = bad. That sort of thing. Honestly, I think it has a lot more to say about the inner life of a young child than any overt messagey message about Mother Earth. But there aren’t any rules governing how you use a book, so go on! Use it to talk to kids about nature and the outdoors. Use it to talk about acceptable and non-acceptable behavior and when those rules break down. Use it to discuss tropes most common in European vs. American books, or what makes this book a stand out in its field. Talk about it any old way you like, but make sure you talk about it. A surprisingly lovely little piece that bears similarities to hundreds of pictures books out there, but isn’t really like a single one. One of a kind.

On shelves now.

Source: Final copy sent from publisher for review.

Like This? Then Try:

• Jemmy Button by Jennifer Uman
• Children Make Terrible Pets by Peter Brown
• Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak
• No Bows! by Shirley Smith Duke
• Mr. Tiger Goes Wild by Peter Brown

Other Blog Reviews:

• 100 Scope Notes
• Read It, Daddy!
• Proper Noun Blog

Misc:

• Sketchbook art galore!
• Hughes discusses showing the book in a classroom presentation.

A little late but still got it out before the end of October and the imminent arrival of Frankenstorm.  I spent a goodly part of yesterday preparing for the hurricane by baking pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.  Now you know where my priorities lie.

The year has passed like a blur and there’s an interesting consistency to the books being discussed for Newberys and Caldecotts.  Newberys anyway.  This may be an entirely Wild Card Caldecott year as far as I can tell.  There are no sure fire winners.  Only worthy contestants.  Let’s begin!

Newbery 2013

The Unfortunate Son by Constance Leeds – I stand by this one.  It was weird when I put it on my last prediction list and weirder still that I’ve not removed it.  But the fact of the matter is that when we think of the word “distinguished” and apply it to writing, Leeds’ book stands up time and time again.  If you haven’t read it yet, I think you’ll have to grab yourself a copy and take a gander.  Shield thine eyes against the brown-ness of the book jacket and enjoy the stellar writing.  Yes, it’s a wild card, but such a lovely fun one.

Starry River of the Sky by Grace Lin – In spite of having one of the more difficult names to remember, I think this is my current front runner.  Yep.  I think we’ve got a gold medal winner on our hands.  It isn’t just the fact that it’s better than its predecessor (which won an Honor back in the day).  It’s the fact that Lin seamlessly weaves her folktales into the narrative in such a way that you half suspect she made them up (she didn’t).  It’s the fact that the writing is cyclical, referring back to itself and to the characters both telling and listening to the story.  It’s the fact that it’s masterful.  Nuff said.

Twelve Kinds of Ice by Ellen Obed – My pet beloved, and STILL it is not out yet.  Is there any way to curse a book more than to release it in November?  Talk is minimal about it, though it has gotten starred reviews already and Travis Jonker gave it an enthusiastic thumbs up over at 100 Scope Notes.  Consider this one the stealth contestant.  Nobody will see it coming . . .

Wonder by R.J. Palacio – Normally when a book breaks as early as this one did in the year it is either forgotten or less discussed by the year’s end.  Not the case with Wonder.  This is a case of a book coming out in the right place at the right time.  It managed to simultaneously touch people on an emotional level, wow them on a literary one, and (most important of all?) it falls under the sway of the current Anti-Bullying craze sweeping the nation.  Whole schools are adopting it as their One Book reads.  I had a discussion with someone the other day about how many award winners win simply because of timing.  Could Smoky Night by David Diaz or The Man Who Walked Between the Towers by Mordecai Gerstein (or even Johnny Tremain for that matter) have done so well if they hadn’t be published precisely when they were?  By the same token, Wonder at least has a VERY good chance at a Newbery honor.  Note that it didn’t make it onto the National Book Award finalists, though.  That may be why I’m not so sure of its gold chances.

Summer of the Gypsy Moths by Sara Pennypacker – If the book is sunk by anything at this point it may be the ending.  Not the happiness found there, mind.  I was a-okay with all of that.  Rather, the lack of attention the press takes in the story and the mildest of mild slaps on the wrist to the characters.  Still, in terms of character development this is maybe the strongest children’s novel of the year.

Splendors and Glooms by Laura Amy Schlitz – Shaking off the rather ridiculous notion that the book is boring (how much more blood would it take to be exciting exactly?) what has surprised me time and time again about this book is the reaction from patrons and librarians.  I expected to be the one lonely voice howling in the wind about its loveliness.  Instead I find myself just an average alto in a very large chorus.  Nina at Heavy Medals thinks it’s a love it or hate it title, but I have been surprised at how few folks I’ve run across dislike it or think it’s anything less than fantastic.  I recently did a Wolves of Willoughby Chase event and when asked who is akin to Joan Aiken, Ms. Schlitz’s name popped immediately to mind.  For writing alone, this should win something.

Bomb by Steve Sheinkin – Just as folks like Jonathan Hunt have their own tendencies when they talk about potential winners (he pushes YA, nonfiction, and easy/picture books) my personal bugaboo is the YA novel that wins a Newbery.  The award goes until the age of 14 so, technically, many is the book that could win.  However, I’ve always disliked it when a book meant for an older audience wins the day.  We have the Printz and though it does not receive the same press as the Newbery, I feel it covers the tween crowd quite nicely.  There are always exceptions, which is why I’m not exactly sitting down to rewrite the Newbery criteria.  Case in point, Bomb.  What I love about this is that while it does have an older audience in mind, the content is the kind of thing I’ve had many many 10, 11 and 12-year-olds asking me for over the years.  They want bomb info.  This book delivers and, amazing as it is to say, Jonathan actually agrees with me on this one.  Wowzer!

Crow by Barbara Wright – I have a co-worker with a near supernatural sense of ALA Award winners.  A year ago she kept harkening back to A Ball for Daisy.  Kept saying how worthy it was and how the wordless sequences really put it over the top.  This year she’s been getting the same feeling about Crow.  I will admit to you that it took a long time for me to pick this Reconstruction-era tale up but when I finished I was glad that I did.  It is worthy?  No question.  What may sink it is the question of kid-friendly reading.  Technically this is not a serious consideration on the part of the Newbery committee, but it’s still something they take into account.  Then again, my co-worker is so rarely wrong . . .

Not Mentioned (and why!):

• The One and Only Ivan by Katharine Applegate – I was very fond of this one but I’m not sure if I’m ready to stick my flag into it and declare it a whole new world. It does some great things and like Wonder is very timely (the real Ivan died this year). Trouble is, it relies on a plot point that I’ve heard contested in more than one circle, so I’m not sure if it will get all that far.
• The Lions of Little Rock by Kristin Levine – I was actually a big fan of this one. Really well done. Just didn’t quite have that little extra something to make it a Newbery.
• No Crystal Stair by Vaunda Micheaux Nelson – Too YA.  Though if we consider the sheer lack of multiculturalism this year I’d be more than happy to have it seriously considered.
• Liar and Spy by Rebecca Stead – Love the book but I’m not sure of its long term staying power. A good one to be aware of in any case.
• Three Times Lucky by Sheila Turnage – I adore it but this has turned out to be a hugely divisive book. Please, oh please, dear sweet committee, prove me wrong!

Caldecott

(this kind of thing is so much easier to do when the New York Times Best Illustrated List has already come out)

And Then It’s Spring by Julie Fogliano, illustrated by Erin E. Stead – In a year that could conceivably be considered Stead vs. Stead vs. Stead (this, Phil’s A Home for Bird, and the duo’s Bear Has a Story to Tell) of all the Steadifying of 2012 this book remains my favorite.  It’s not just Fogliano’s delightful but careful and subdued writing.  It’s how Ms. Stead has chosen to portray the sheer swaths of time left waiting for something to grow in the spring.  This is a book about restraint (a notion foreign to most small children).  Let us hope the committee is not the least bit restrained and gives is a glorious little award.

Step Gently Out by Helen Frost, photographs by Rick Lieder – As a woman who spent her young adult life certain that she would become a professional photographer (ah, crazed youth) my heart is still firmly in the court of photography.  There is, naturally, the question of whether or not a book complemented by photographs constitutes “illustration”.  In the fine art world photography has always been pooh-poohed as a lesser art, and some of that prejudice slips down even to the world of children’s literature.  Indeed, no work of pure photography has ever won a Caldecott (the only near exception being Knuffle Bunny’s mix of photos and images).  Certainly I always thought that if any photographer got such an award it would have to be Nic Bishop.  If it happened to go to Rick Lieder instead, however, I would not mind a jot.

Extra Yarn by Mac Barnett, illustrated by Jon Klassen – The last time I mentioned my predictions I failed to include this little gem.  The response from the artists out there was a universal cry of support.  Mr. Klassen is very big amongst his fellows.  That being said, there is some concern that the heroine of this book does not hold her knitting needles correctly. I can’t seem to find my copy but if true then this could potentially disqualify the book.  FYI.

Green by Laura Vaccaro Seeger – I refer you now to Lolly Robinson’s discussion at Calling Caldecott where she waxes rhapsodic about the various traits worth celebrating in the title.  To my horror, however, she pointed out a small mistake.  It sounds like a mild design issue and hopefully not a dealbreaker.  Just the same, it could well reduce what I once thought of as the Caldecott frontrunner to an Honor.  Or maybe not!    I’m still counting on getting a green Newbery/Caldecott dress out of this.

Baby Bear Sees Blue by Ashley Wolff – A smart mix of tribute and original storytelling/art.  One of the younger Caldecott contenders seen here, and I think that’s important.  It is restrained in its text, but to just the right degree.  Hopefully the committee will see it for the smart little book that it is.

Not Mentioned (and why!):

• Z is for Moose by Kelly A. Bingham, ill. Paul O. Zelinsky – Hugely popular it is. Lots of fun as well. I’m just not certain it outshines the other potential candidates this year, that’s all. Still a stellar piece of work, no matter how you slice it.

• This is Not My Hat by Jon Klassen – No, I’m afraid his work on Extra Yarn has a better chance. This one is a visual stunner, but not quite there on the writing side.

• Oh No! by Candace Ransom, ill. Eric Rohmann – Great book but alas someone showed me a perspective problem near the end that may sink it for the committee. Doggone it.

And your thoughts?

Creepy Carrots!
By Aaron Reynolds
Illustrated by Peter Brown
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
$16.99
ISBN: 978-1-4424-0297-3
Ages 4-8
On shelves now

A children’s librarian is half media specialist, half psychic. It isn’t enough to have to know the books in your collection. You have to know what that pint-sized patron standing before you REALLY wants when they say they want “a scary book”. For a while there I had this very persistent three-year-old who would beg me for scary fare and wait as I dutifully pulled picture book after picture book for him. After a while I’d begin to wonder what would happen if I actually gave him what he said he wanted. What if I’d handed him Alan Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark)? Would it have scarred him for life? Fortunately the shelves of your average children’s room abound with titles that are “scary” enough for a small fry. The trick is to find something that manages to balance the funny and the frightening in equal measures, never overplaying its hand. Had Creepy Carrots! by Aaron Reynolds been available when I met that kid, it would have been the first thing I’d have pulled from the shelf. With pitch perfect illustration by the increasingly talented Peter Brown, this beautifully shaded creation is a great example of how to get the tone of a picture book exactly right. Strange and wonderful and weird in all the right places.

Jasper Rabbit. You average everyday hare. Jasper has a penchant for carrots. Stands to reason. He’s a rabbit. Every day he plucks them from the Crackenhopper Field. Never has a care in the world either. But one day Jasper has a suspicion. Carrots in his tummy he understands, but carrots in his bathtub? In his bedroom? In the tool shed? Seems that Jasper is being stalked by vegetation. Without realizing it, Jasper Rabbit is crossed out of his everyday existence and into . . . the carrot zone.

Before we get into anything else, let’s talk text. As difficult as it may be, I tried reading this book without paying attention to the accompanying illustrations (no small feat) to get a sense of what author Aaron Reynolds is doing here. What I discovered when I went through it on a word alone basis was that Reynolds has penned a really good readaloud. There’s a great inherent drama to lines like, “Jasper was about to help himself to a victory snack.. when he heard it. The soft… sinister.. tunktunktunk of carrots creeping. He turned… but there was nothing there.” This passage is just begging to be read aloud with Vincent Price-esque cadences. The inherent ridiculousness of creeping carrots being scary is paired with the rather effective “tunktunktunk” sound. It reminded me of the sound of the dead son in that old short story The Monkey’s Paw. It speaks of unnatural slowness, always creepy to kids who move at lightning speeds themselves. Reading this book you hit that dichotomy of potentially frightening and potentially funny over and over until, at last, you reach the end. The book’s finale is one of those twist endings that some kids will get while others just enjoy the visuals. I love a picture book with a good twist, and so do child audiences. Particularly when they don’t see where the story is going.

It’s interesting that though Reynolds has specialized in child lit noir for years (his Joey Fly Private Eye comic books practically typify the genre) there’s nothing ostensibly noir-ish about the text for Creepy Carrots! Just the same, Peter Brown saw something atmospheric there to be plundered. The decision was the right one and Brown cleverly culled from not a single noir source but from many. There are hints of Hitchcock, Wells, Twilight Zone, and other influences (Vertigo being the most direct reference of them all). The result is a picture of psychosis running rampant. Kids are naturally afraid that there might be monsters under their beds, so they understand paranoia. Only a few books think to take advantage of that fact. Meet one of the few.

Atmospheric black and white, when done right, yields picture book gold. Think about the Caldecott Honor winner The Spider and the Fly as illustrated in a 1920s movie house style by Tony DiTerlizzi. Brown’s work isn’t wholly black and white, of course. He allows himself a single color: orange. This is a deep dark orange though. One that goes rather well with the man’s copious shading. Previous Brown books like The Curious Garden had fun with the borders, filling them with creeping smog around the edges. In Creepy Carrots! the borders now teem with encroaching darkness. Each picture is enclosed in a black border that seeps a foglike substance into the images. It’s like watching a television show or a movie where you know something’s gonna get the hero sometime. You just don’t know when.

Fair play to Brown with his carrots too. As you can see from the cover alone, he takes care to make them funny and scary all at once. They have a random smattering of gappy teeth like jack-o-lanterns, crossed eyes, and a variety of tops. They’re like The Three Stooges in vegetable form, only more intimidating. Brown also makes the rather interesting decision to give much of this book a cutout feel. His style consists of drawing in pencil on paper and then digitally composing and coloring his images. The result is that he can give his scenes some real depth. That first shot of Jasper sitting merrily amongst the carrots really makes it look as if he’s cut out from the scene, nearer the audience, much like the tufts of the trees behind him. And finally there’s Jasper himself. You’d think the book would just feature the regular emotions like happy and frightened, but Brown does a lot more than that. The scene where Jasper laughs at himself for being so ridiculous to think that the carrots were following him is a triumph of mixed emotions. Worried eyes, smiling mouth, uncertain eyebrows, and hubris-filled ears. Beautiful stuff.

Though it has absolutely nothing to do with Halloween, thanks to its black, white, and orange palette (to say nothing of its subject matter) expect to see this book read aloud in many a Halloween storytime for years and years to come. There are worse fates. I would simply remind everybody that scary books aren’t seasonal. That kid who requested them of me asked me for them month after month, never tiring of what I put before him. Kids love to be scared within the safety of their parents’ arms. Happy endings and gorgeous art are just a nice plus at that point. More fun than it deserves to be and thrilling to the core, expect to be asked to read this one over and over again and to willingly acquiesce so that you can pick out more details on a second, third, fortieth reading. A masterpiece of the scary/funny balance.

On shelves now.

Like This? Then Try:

• The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt, illustrated by Tony DiTerlizzi

• Substitute Creacher by Chris Gall

• Annie Was Warned by Jarrett Krosoczka

Other Blog Reviews: Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

Professional Reviews: A star from Kirkus

Videos:

Don’t believe me when I say Peter Brown was influenced by certain noirish folks?  Then get it straight from the horse’s mouth:

Green
By Laura Vaccaro Seeger
A Neal Porter Book – Roaring Brook (an imprint of Macmillan)
$16.99
ISBN: 978-1-59643-397-7
Ages 4-8
On shelves March 27th

Sometimes you just want to show a kid a beautiful picture book. Sometimes you also want that book to be recent. That’s the tricky part. Not that there aren’t pretty little picture books churned out of publishing houses every day. Of course there are. But when you want something that distinguishes itself and draws attention without sparkles or glitter the search can be a little fraught. We children’s librarians sit and wait for true beauty to fall into our laps. The last time I saw it happen was Jerry Pinkney’s The Lion and the Mouse. Now I’m seeing it again with Laura Vaccaro Seeger’s Green. I mean just look at that cover. I vacillate between wanting to smear those thick paints with my hands and wanting to lick it to see if it tastes like green frosting. If my weirdness is any kind of a litmus test, kids will definitely get a visceral reaction when they flip through the pages. I know we’re talking colors here but if I were to capture this book in a single word then there’s only one that would do: Delicious.

Open the book and the first pictures you see are of a woodland scene. Two leaves hang off a nearby tree as the text reads “forest green”. Turn the page and those leaves, cut into the paper itself, flip over to two fishies swimming in the deep blue sea. A tortoise swims lazily by, bubbles rising from its head (“sea green”). Another page and the holes of the bubbles are turned over to become the raised bumps on a lime. And so it goes with each new hole or cut connecting one kind of green to another. We see khaki greens, wacky greens, slow greens and glow greens until at last Seeger fills the page with boxes filled with different kinds of green. This is followed by a stop sign and the words “never green” against an autumn background. On the next page it is winter and “no green” followed by an image of a boy planting something. The final spread shows a man and his daughter gazing at a tree. The description: “forever green”. You bet.

Can a color be political? Absolutely. In a given election season you’ll see red vs. blue, after all. In children’s books colors would historically be associated with races or countries (hence the flare up around titles like Two Reds). Green occupies a hazy middle ground here. We all know about the Green Party or green activism. However, it’s not as if you’ll find many parents forbidding their children to read this book because it pushes a pro-environment agenda. Seeger is subtler than that. Yes, her book does end with humans planting and admiring trees, but thanks to her literary restraint the message isn’t thwapping you over the head with a tire iron. She could have turned her “no green” two-page spread into some barren landfill-esque wasteland. Instead we see a snow scene. This is followed by the only silent two pages i

Jazz Age Josephine
By Jonah Winter
Illustrated by Marjorie Priceman
Atheneum (an imprint of Simon & Schuster)
$16.99
ISBN: 978-104169-6123-9
Ages 6 and up
On shelves now

When we try to name the biggest and best picture book biography authors out there, two names spring immediately to mind. The first is David Adler. Mr. Adler specializes in picture books that go by the straightforward titles of “A Picture Book of [Enter Name Here]“. It makes him easy to spot on a shelf. All his books look pretty much the same with stories that reduce their subjects to a couple key points. They are serviceable in the best sense of the term. They serve a purpose. They also couldn’t be more different from the works of the great picture book biographer Jonah Winter. Where Mr. Adler is all white borders and straightforward fonts, Mr. Winter’s books leap off the shelf and make a dive for your jugular. They pop and smack and wrest your attention away from the glittery fictional pack. His latest, Jazz Age Josephine, is no different. A witty and glam look at a person rarely seen in picture book bios, Winter uses his storytelling skills to spin the tale of a fine lady, never told in quite this way before.

“Well, she was born up in St. Louis, and she grew up with those St. Louis Blues / Yes, she was born in old St. Louis, and she grew up singin’ nothin’ but the blues, / She just had one old ragged dress and a pair of worn-out old shoes.” That was Josephine Baker back in the day. Fortunately, the kid had pep. She could move and goof off and her dancing was so good that it earned her some money from time to time. Little wonder that when her home was burned by angry racists she headed straight for New York City. There Josephine was able to get some roles on the stage, but the minstrel parts were particularly galling. So off she flew to Paris and once she got there, “Paris, France – instant fame! / Everybody knows her name!” And though she missed her home, she was a jazz age baby and a hit at long last.

I did a cursory check of the reader reviews of this book online and saw that some folks were a bit peeved that Mr. Winter dared to mention hot topic issues like racism and minstrel shows. I think that highlights why it is that this is the first time such a biography for kids has been attempted (there was Ragtime Tumpie by Alan Schroeder in 1989 but that just looked at Josephine’s youth). The story of Ms. Baker is more difficult than your average Rosa Parks / Frederick Douglass bio. If you’re going to talk about Josephine then you have to talk about why she left America. You have to talk about what the state of the country was at that time, and why she felt she couldn’t return there. Then there are other issues as well. For one thing, is it possible to talk about Ms. Baker without mentioning the banana skirt? Winter doesn’t talk about the costume (six-year-olds are notoriously bad at pronouncing the word “burlesque”) but illustrator Marjorie Priceman does include a subtle glimpse of it from the side in two separate pictures. Meanwhile Mr. Winter does a good job of making it clear that Josephine was sad to be away from the States but that to become a star she had to go elsewhere. Interestingly the book ends at about that point, leaving the Author’s Note to explain her work with t