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This month marks 70 years since the outbreak of the Second World War. The First World War had been described as the war to end all wars - yet just over thirty years later, Hitler’s invasion of Poland triggered a new conflict that would go on to engulf the whole world. Older Brother came home from his first day back at school yesterday and announced that their topic for this term is to be the Second World War. I am relieved that the teaching of history has moved on since I was at school, when all we seemed to do was draw diagrams of battle lines and rote learn significant dates. Now, I am sure, he will learn about these events but also about the cost to human life - and, I hope, he will emerge with an inkling of the horrors of war.

A superb picture book which both provides historical context and reminds us of the human tragedy which accompanies the macchinations of war is Photographs in the Mud by Dianne Wolfer and illustrated by Brian Harrison-Lever (Fremantle Press, 2005). We follow the stories of two soldiers, one Australian, the other Japanese, as they set off for the front in Papua New Guinea. Jack leaves behind a pregnant wife; and Hoshi, his wife and small daughter. Each carries photographs to remind them of home - and the passing of time is emphasised through the illustrations as these photographs change.
There are many casualties on both sides before Jack and Hoshi encounter one another. Both fatally wounded, they turn to the comfort of the photographs that are their only connection with home - and then share them with each other. When they are found the next day, a soldier retrieves the photographs from the mud and tries to separate them but they are stuck together.

Photographs in the Mud is a moving tribute to the soldiers who fought and died in Papua New Guinea during the Second World War and serves as a sensitive reminder of the human cost, not just for the soldiers themselves but for those left waiting in vain for the return of their loved ones.

The story was inspired by a trip Dianne Wolfer made along the Kokoda Track in Papua New Guinea, during which she heard many stories about the fighting there during the Second World War. There are photos from this trip on her website, as well as teachers’ notes to accompany the book.

I have always loved hats so I couldn’t wait to get my hand on a copy of Satoshi Kitamura’s latest picture-book, Millie’s Marvellous Hat (Andersen Press, 2009) - and indeed, it is a joy from beginning to end. It seems a simple enough story: but the resonance of its message, the power of imagination to transcend reality, means that children will never tire of hearing it read to them over and over again as they pour over Satoshi’s uncluttered but detail-filled illustrations.

Millie spots a beautiful hat in a shop window on her way home from school and goes in to buy it - there’s just one problem: it’s hideously expensive and in her purse Millie has… nothing. Hmmm. That could have been the end of the story but no, because the very proper, besuited shop assistant fetches just the hat for Millie from the back of the shop:

“This is a most marvellous hat, Madam, ” said the man.
“It can be any size, shape or colour you wish. All you have to do is imagine it.”

I know this is only a story, but I could have hugged him! And as Millie walks out of the shop wearing her new hat, her imagination takes flight.

Then she discovers that she’s not the only one with a special hat: as she looks around her, she notices that everyone else has one too. There are delightful parallels between what people are doing and the hats they are wearing - and a very special moment occurs when Millie smiles at an old lady whose hat is a “dark, murky pond”: birds and fish “leapt out of her hat and onto the old lady’s”, who we then see striding through the park reenergized with a lovely smile on her face. The final illustration of Millie sitting at the supper table with her parents is an absolute treat too, and will have both children and adults chuckling: but also imagining all the possibilities behind it.

As children turn the pages, their own imaginations will take flight and I can definitely see a new Marvellous Hat game emerging. It would work well on long journeys… So what does your hat look like? And what kind of hats are the people around you wearing?

We are delighted to be featuring Satoshi in our current Gallery, which includes this exuberant illustration from Millie’s Marvellous Hat; and do read Satoshi’s recent interview with Booktrust, in which he talks about Millie and says that he is working on a follow-up - hooray!

The threads of a little boy’s life are drawn together and lead to a happy ending, thanks to the wisdom of his grandfather, in this beautifully written and illustrated picture-book: Babu’s Song by Stephanie Stuve-Bodeen and illustrated by Aaron Boyd (Lee & Low, 2003). Set in contemporary Tanzania, Bernardi lives with his grandfather, Babu. They make a living from the toys which Babu makes and Bernardi sells at the market. Bernardi shares a love of soccer with the other boys his age and he wishes he could afford to go to school like they do…. and he longs for the new football he sees in a shop window.

One day Babu gives Bernardi a musical box he has made from an old tin: it plays a song that Babu used to sing to him, which makes it extra special as Babu lost his voice after an illness several years earlier:

Bernardi hugged Babu, and together they listened to the music. That night for the first time in many nights, Bernardi fell asleep listening to Babu’s song.

The following Saturday, Bernardi sells the music box to an insistent tourist and decides he will buy himself the football. However, he finds that he cannot buy it and, filled with guilt, he hands the money over to Babu. Babu leaves Bernardi for a while, then returns with three surprises: a school uniform, because he has paid the fees for Bernardi to go to school; a soccer ball he has made; and an old lard tin to make another music box.

Babu’s Song became an immediate hit in our household and, since it arrived a few months ago, we have read it many times. I’ve included it in my Personal View for our current music theme; and it is definitely one of the books Steve Adams of the Willesden Bookshop would have been referring to when he spoke to me about children’s books about Africa and India starting to reflect a modern urban setting. The illustrations here really help to get that across.

All in all, there’s plenty of food for thought and this is exactly the kind of story we need to get children thinking at an early age, even if subconsciously to start with, about the distribution of world wealth. For parents reading this book with their children, it is a wake-up call: a tourist paying, albeit generously, for a hand-made souvenir makes it possible for a child to attend school…

Little Brother read this as his African book in our Book Challenge so I’ll leave him with the last words:

There are some sad bits and some happy bits, which makes it a heart-moving story.

When you’re looking for a quick bedtime read for a tired little one, John Foster’s broad and gentle selection Drift Upon a Dream: Poems for Sleepy Babies (Oxford University Press, 2002) offers delightful possibilities. Alongside encouragement from Melanie Williamson’s charming illlustrations, which progress through the book from sunset oranges and pinks to deepest night-time blues, soporific poems will lull small children to sleep and sweet dreams.

There are a few traditional poems - including the African-American “Hush, Little Baby, Don’t Say a Word” and a beautiful African lullaby - and right in the middle is the wonderfully atmospheric “Cradle Song” by the inspirational Sarojini Naidu:

From groves of spice
O’er fields of rice
Athwart the lotus stream
I bring for you
Aglint with dew
A little lovely dream…

(and you can read the whole poem here)

I love getting my tongue round those slightly archaic words (”Slightly?!?” I hear some of you cry!) - what about you, how do you feel about reading poetry, or indeed prose, like this to children?

At the moment Older Brother, Little Brother and I are in the middle of an intense week of rehearsals for the Ryedale Festival’s Community Opera (in North Yorkshire, UK) - this year’s production is a modernised version of the 15th Century English morality play, Everyman, which, in a nutshell, is about Death sent by God to summon Everyman, who is not at all ready, spiritually, to meet his Maker.

This therefore seemed to be the right time to read together Wolf Erlbruch’s extraordinary picture-book Duck, Death and the Tulip (Gecko Press, 2008) - and the book’s translator, Catherine Chidgey, deserves a special mention too! It might seem strange to describe a book about death as beautiful but then, as I have just said, this is an extraordinary book. As Death slips Duck’s lifeless body into “the great river” at the end, the reader is filled with a deep sense of peace, as well as a rueful recognition of the truth of Death’s final thought: “But that’s life” - and perhaps what this story gets across particularly poignantly, but totally matter-of-factly, is that where there is life, death is inevitable. Duck is definitely horrified (and frightened) to discover at the beginning that Death is stalking her. Who wouldn’t be? Then a surprising thing happens - Duck starts to make friends with Death. What follows includes some exquisite moments, such as where Death gets cold when Duck takes him off to the pond for a swim -

‘Are you cold?’ Duck asked. ‘Shall I warm you a little?’
Nobody had ever offered to do that for Death.

Duck’s musings offer much food for thought: all the time she is preparing herself for the fact that sometime soon, she’s not sure exactly when, she will die. Erlbruch’s writing is deft in expressing the tension between loving life and preparing to let go of it. His artwork is haunting too and Duck, Death and the Tulip is a worthy follow-up to Erlbruch’s 2006 Hans Christian Andersen Award for illustration.

A caveat, though: straightforward as it appears, Duck, Death and the Tulip raises complex ideas, which need to be given discussion space. This, however, may be as much to reassure adults that the book has indeed conveyed its life-affirming core, as to clarify any misunderstandings on the part of children. It would be a good choice of story to talk about the death from old age of a loved one - though not when grief is raw. Our context was Everyman. Erlbruch’s cultural heritage includes Schubert’s Death and the Maiden. What stories do you have in your culture which link Life and Death?

I still remember receiving a few letters as a child from my godfather’s mother in Uruguay: letters just to me, written on gossamer-thin airmail paper and each with a tiny, brightly-colored feather attached to it. So Dear Juno by Korean author Soyung Pak and illustrated by Susan Kathleen Hartung (Puffin Books, 2001) certainly resonated with me and sparked the imagination of Older and Little Brother when we picked it up recently.

Juno and his parents live in the US and he can’t read the letters his grandmother sends him in Korean -but he can still understand them before they are read aloud to him because of the extra things his grandmother includes with the letters, like photographs or a dried flower from her garden. Juno realises that his grandmother would like to hear from him too and sends her “letters” made up of a leaf from his special tree and drawings. It’s a wonderful way to communicate and does away with the distance and language differences - and just like in the story, young listeners can pick out what is being communicated through the delightful illustrations. There is also something particularly appealing about Juno wondering aloud to Sam, his dog, if Grandmother will bring her cat with her when she comes to visit… My adult mind was immediately filled with logistical nightmares and immigration/quarantine issues: but, of course, my two young listeners took it in their stride and discussed instead the very real possibility of a cat and dog getting along!

Soyoung Pak received the 2000 New-Writer Ezra Jack Keats Award. Running an eye down the list of winners past and present throws up a number of books we have loved and highlighted on PaperTigers: and plenty of inspiration for future reading…

I have not come across Ezra Jack Keats before but have so enjoyed filling that gap in my knowledge via the Ezra Jack Keats Foundation website. They have an appeal on at the moment to help them get a US stamp printed to commemorate the 50th Anniversary of The Snowy Day , which Janet posted about last year. Having fallen in love with the adorable, wee, red-hooded character (see the Award logo), I’m going to have to seek out the book myself… And if you were brought up with his books and/or read them to your children/classes, we’d love to hear your recommendations…

The scent of the flowers from a special frangipani tree wafts its way through this delightful story, in which one particular annual fancy dress carnival goes down in the annals of the author’s family history. Set in Northern Queensland, Australia, in the 1950s, The Old Frangipani Tree at Flying Fish Point by Trina Saffioti, illustrated by Maggie Prewett (Magabala Books, 2008) both exuberantly and sensitively tells the story of how family and neighbors rally round to help Faith, Trina Saffioti’s mother, to become an island princess: an old sheet becomes her sarong, and she borrows a ukulele (what does it matter that it hasn’t got any strings?) - but the crowning glory, both literally and figuratively, are the lei and headdress made from threaded flowers from the frangipani tree.

Faith suffers a slight confidence crisis when she arrives at the party and sees some of the other costumes - but her cousin Noelie, dressed as an Aboriginal warrior, says to her:

‘Faithy-girl, you look like an island princess… Some boys laughed at me but I don’t care. If I win, I’ll share my prize with you. If you win, you can share with me.’

And then the frangipani flowers work their magic on the judges and she wins!

There are lovely nuances that come through both in the narrative and in the illustrations, like the fact that second-prize also goes to a costume that has required imagination and effort; and that Carmen is “one of the more popular girls” for a reason - although she is wearing a beautiful ballerina dress and clearly believes herself to be in the running for first prize, she applauds Faith generously…

The Old Frangipani Tree at Flying Fish Point is a great readaloud: it buzzes with zingy dialogue - and I especially love the strong sense of oral history being handed down by the way the author refers to family members in relation to herself - so, for example, Faith is Mum. What’s really great is that it wouldn’t actually have mattered if Faith hadn’t won - it’s just fantastic that she did!

Last weekend The Vancouver Sun newspaper published an interesting article entitled “What do kids love most? Their parents reading to them.” Nick Vinocur reported on the results from a recent study that surveyed 500 children aged three to eight in Britain and found that half of the children said story time was their favorite pastime with their parents! Almost two-thirds of the children polled said they wanted their parents to spend more time reading to them before bed and 82% said reading a story with their parents helped them to sleep better. Storytelling ranked higher than television or video game amongst pastimes for kids and the best storytellers, according to the children surveyed, were mothers who used funny voices to illustrate different characters or made their own special sound effects to keep the story moving.

Child psychologist Richard Woolfson led the study and says:

The results of our research confirm the traditional activity of storytelling continues to be a powerful learning and emotional resource in children’s lives. It can be very difficult for parents to find the time to read with their children, but these moments can help build strong bond and play a vital part in their child’s development.

Click here to read the entire article.

I had to include the photo of my husband reading to our son Evan as it is one of my favorites and I still find it hard to believe that my first-born is now 12 years old. How time flies! Such fond memories…

Speaking of photos, don’t forget to submit a photo of your child’s bookshelf for our Around the World in 100 Bookshelves project. You will be automatically entered in a drawing to win a selection of 5 age-appropriate books to add to your little one’s bookshelf! See the sidebar for more details.

Yikes, I’m falling a bit behind on reporting back on this year’s PaperTigers’ Reading the World Book Challenge - but we have been cracking on so I hope I’ll be back in a week or so with Book #3. How are you all doing out there? For those of you who haven’t picked up on it, or need reminding, check out my initial post here - there’s still plenty of time to join in…

In the meantime, here’s what we’ve read for our books #2:

Together we read Tales Told in Tents: Stories from Central Asia by Sally Pomme Clayton and illustrated by Sophie Herxheimer (Frances Lincoln, 2006). We loved it! Sally Pomme Clayton is a performance storyteller as well as a writer. Her storyteller voice makes these tales a joy to read aloud and she unobtrusively inserts cultural details, which deepen understanding, as well as some of her own experiences while gathering the stories on her travels through Central Asia, most notably in Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan. We learned the legend of how felt was invented; added to our growing collection of beautiful creation stories; marvelled at magic; revelled in riddles; and sought out the mythical storyteller whose presence wove itself through the different stories. Herxheimer’s beautiful illustrations help to convey the magic and even after we had listened to the story we had to go over each one again with attention fixed on the pictures.

Older Brother, 10 1/2, read Ice Trap! Shackleton’s Incredible Expedition by Meredith Hooper, illustrated by M. P. Robertson (Frances Lincoln, 2000) (and I think it’s published in the US as The Endurance: Shackleton’s Perilous Expedition in Antartica by Abbeville Kids, 2001). Here’s what he says about it:

I enjoyed this book a lot because of the excitement. In 1914 Shackleton set sail to Antarctica as he wanted to be the first person to walk all the way across the Antarctic Peninsula but his ship was caught in pack ice. Then their ship was crushed by the ice. They sailed in lifeboats to Elephant Island, which was uninhabited, then Shackleton took five men in a lifeboat. They wanted to sail to South Georgia but in sight of the cliffs they got caught in a hurricane, which blew them to the wrong side of the island, so they had to climb over mountains to reach the town. Then eventually everyone was rescued by a steam boat.

It was very exciting because a lot of unexpected things happened and also it’s true, which makes it even more exciting because it’s about Man against Earth and people belong to Earth. And Earth/Nature is stronger than Man and actually, they couldn’t control the ice.

I think they were brave. It was nearly the first time anyone had tried to get there. And there was a stowaway on board, which made it harder for them to survive because there wasn’t enough food. Not a single person died in two years. I’ve read this book three times - once my Grandad read it to us. That was special because he spent a year in Antarctica a long time ago.

Little Brother, 8, read Follow the Drinking Gourd by Jeanette Winter (new edition, Knopf Books, 2008):

Peg Leg Joe is a sailor with a missing leg and he sings a song which will help lead slaves to freedom. It’s called “Follow the Drinking Gourd” - the Drinking Gourd is a constellation which we call the Plough and in America it’s called the Big Dipper and it’s part of the Great Bear. It points to the Pole Star so it always points North. There’s a slave who is about to be sold the next day away from his wife and children who are in slavery as well. That night they all follow the Drinking Gourd. It’s not an easy journey and in the pictures there are some Wanted! posters of them. Then they meet Peg Leg Joe at a river in a boat. He rows them across the river in his boat and then he goes back to collect some more slaves who have also followed the Drinking Gourd, leaving the family at a trail he calls the Underground Railway. It’s a trail of houses with safe places to hide. They hide and rest in the day and move at night so they can follow the constellation and also so they can’t be found so easily. They make it to safety and freedom.

This really happened. I knew that there were people who used to be slaves but I never knew they tore families apart. I’m glad that some people escaped to freedom but slavery is wrong and everyone should have the right to be free.

“In a province of a country ruled by a merciless and powerful emperor, there lived a man called Basket Weaver.”

So begins Basket Weaver and Catches Many Mice by Janet Gill, illustrated by Yangsook Choi (Knopf, 1999), a charming fable about a skilled basket-weaver, who would take especial care when weaving beds for newborn babies, using exactly the right materials to suit their name - like owl feathers for wisdom or Pink Everlasting flowers for a long life. One day he rescues a drowning cat, who decides to stay with him, something that pleases him for: “In his country, cats received much honor. Everyone knew that cats followed their own minds and always made wise choices”. He names her Catches Many Mice, “for he believed everyone should have a name to live up to.”

They live and work happily together until the day Delivers Messages arrives with a message from the Emperor ordering him to take part in a contest with three other basket weavers to make a bed for his new daughter. The winner will live in the palace and be granted three requests… the losers will be sent to work in the mines for seven years. Basket Weaver spends the next five days making his finest ever basket - but he discovers at the least minute that he only has one brightly-colored feather from the birds who have already flown away for the winter. His cradle is not perfect and he arrives at the palace in some trepidation - all the more so because Catches Many Mice has disappeared - apparently one of her “wise choices” - or is it…?

I won’t spoil the story - all I will say is that it ends more than satisfactorily, after a suitable surprise and three requests being grudgingly granted. This is a story that stays with you quite a long time after hearing it. Talking afterwards about the requests, which were much more difficult for the emperor to grant than the wish for gold and jewels he expected, both Older Brother and Younger Brother recognised that there was no way round it: the winner could not have asked for anything else and have remained true to himself. They found it quite a sobering and heart-warming thought.

They enjoyed Yangsook Choi’s illustrations too - Basket Weaver’s gentle character shines through; the emperor is suitably imposing, as is everything to do with him; there are interesting details in the basket-weaving; it’s a very bedraggled cat that is pulled out of the eddying water; and there is unobtrusive humor wherever Catches Many Mice is shown after that. All in all, a lovely readaloud, perfect for a bedtime story.

You can read an interview with Yangsook Choi in our current issue of PaperTigers - and she also features in our Gallery.

Moving house can be an unsettling, not to say traumatic experience for children - especially when the move involves a move to a new country with a different culture and language. Usually children have had no say in family decisions and they can feel swept along by the adults in their lives. Stories about other children moving to a new home are certainly a good way to help ease feelings of isolation and, as in so many other situations, provide an opening for children to talk about their own worries. Even children who appear to be positive and excited about imminent changes in their lives need an outlet to express niggling concerns before these whisperings become overpowering spectres.

Goodbye, 382 Shin Dang Dong (National Geographic, 2002) by sisters Frances and Ginger Park and illustrated by Yangsook Choi (who all feature in interviews in our current focus on Korea) is a perfect story to reassure and reflect on: and its ending on a note of optimism means that it’s also a good story to go to sleep on.

Jangmi is very sad that her family is about to move from Korea to America. She has to say good-bye to everything and everyone she knows - the market, her best friend Kisuni, the beloved willow tree in her garden. Jangmi’s parents have done a good job preparing her - she knows a lot about what will be the same, similar, different: but even so, she doesn’t want to go. However, once actually in America, Jangmi starts to feel a bit more optimistic. There is a beautiful maple tree in her new garden and she makes a new friend - and she realises that, despite the distance, Kisuni is still her best friend.

However, this is not only a story for children who have immigrated into a new country: it is also a story that will comfort children left behind by friends moving away. And it reminds all children (and adults) of the importance of making new neighbours feel welcome, wherever they have come from.

For more book recommendations for children and young adults, read New to America - Living the Immigrant Life from The Miss Rumphius Effect; and Ann Lazim’s Personal View for PaperTigers: The Immigrant and Second Generation Experience in British Children’s Books.

On April 8th, author Christine Kohler (Turkey in the News: Past, Present and Future) read the book Yoshi’s Feast to a first grade classroom at the Ballinger Elementary School in Ballinger, Texas. Today we are thrilled to have her share her experience with us, as a guest blogger.

Yoshi’s Feast by Kimiko Kajikawa, illustrated by Yumi Heo (DK Publishing, 2000)

I love Yoshi’s Feast as much for the rich tale of two squabbling stubborn neighbors who learn to cooperate and develop a friendship as for the intricate fall-colored Japanese illustrations (and I’m not talking about just any illustrations, but Yumi Heo’s exquisite oil, pencil and handmade paper collages!).

Before reading the book to a class of first graders, I practice on a three-year-old. Yoshi’s Feast is best read with props, and since I lived in Japan, Guam, and Hawaii, I have the perfect ones (a fan, a small wooden box, chopsticks and a Japanese tea cup). My audience of one is enthralled. He sits still for the duration of the reading. He wants an encore. All signs that I will be able to capture and keep the attention of a class of six- and seven-year-olds (I only wish I had more than 20 minutes… I imagine with a longer session I could take chopsticks and sticky rice for the children as well).

The day of the reading I dress in a kimono-style jacket. I want the loose sleeves to give a nice effect for the dance I’ve incorporated into my reading. Besides, Yoshi dresses in his best kimono when he dances.

When setting up to read, I place a chair beside my chair for the props. With one hand, I hold the book open, facing the children. With the other, I click black lacquer chopsticks together to indicate the parts where Sabu is eating broiled eels or Yoshi is eating rice.

In scenes with Yoshi’s fan, I flutter my fan in circles, and when Yoshi shakes his money box at Sabu, I shake my box to the refrain:

Chin chin jara jara…chin jarra jarra…

The refrain is what calls me to let go of the book for a moment. I get swept away in the marvelous musical refrain:

Chin chin jara jara…chin jarra jarra…chin…

I rise from my seat, fan circling and fluttering wildly, money box shaking faster, my voice growing bolder, louder. I rise as if I am Yoshi coming to life from the page.

And I dance.

Chin chin jara jara…chin jarra jarra…Chin!
Chin chin jara jara…chin jarra jarra…Chin!

As if a cymbal has sounded a crescendo, I sit back down and quietly read the last two pages.

The teacher orchestrates the children to thank me. But the real thanks comes as I gather my props to leave. I hear a child taking up the chant:

Chin chin jara jara…chin jarra jarra…

And another tells me he liked best the dance.

Thanks, Christine, for sharing this lovely moment with us and for inspiring children to fall in love with books!

PaperTigers welcomes accounts from anyone who has ever helped bring books alive for children through storytelling, so please share your experiences with us!

Over a year ago now, I blogged about the beautiful poem Outback written by the then eight-year-old Annaliese Porter and published by Magabala Books in Australia, in a stunning edition illustrated by renowned artist Bronwyn Bancroft. I recently lent our copy of Outback to a friend to use with her class of eight-year-olds here in the UK, when they were learning about aboriginal art, and it was an eye-opening experience for them to work with a book written by someone their own age.

Now Magabala have done it again - they recently published Joshua and the Two Crabs by Joshua Button, “a young man with a keen interest in the saltwater country he has grown up in”.

It’s a delightful story, told with humour, as Joshua chases the two crabs around the beach, telling them,

‘I can see you two!’
‘Well, we can see you too,’ said the crabs.

The three-fold repetition of this satisfying formula perhaps lulls young readers/ listeners into a false sense of this being a wholly imaginary, anthropomorphised tale - so it comes as a bit of a shock when Joshua catches them and then throws them onto the fire to cook for lunch! However, Joshua’s matter-of-fact tone is quite in keeping with the descriptive narrative… I would say the story is a perfect example of a child’s ability to weave fact and fiction together in one breath. We adults sometimes walk a tightrope here. How often have you found yourself in a no-win situation? Either you go along with the imaginings and are berated for saying something which is obviously not true, or you are likewise reproached for throwing in the cold water of fact! Well, Joshua Button seems to have got the blend just right, judging by Little Brother’s reaction.

He was chuckling for a long time that Joshua carried a bucket and spear at the beach - and he loved the pictures - he liked the textures and layering. They are indeed stunning - the colors bring the sea and the creek alive; the crabs are wonderful, as are the vignettes of the waders - and I especially loved Joshua peering down at the crabs in his very goggly goggles!

A while after reading it together, it bcame apparent that Little Brother had been mulling it over:

“Joshua Button does exist.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Do you think this is a true story?
“Yes, I do.”
“But the bit about talking crabs is fiction.”
“Probably.”
“Well, it could say that”
“But it’s a story - fundamentally it’s a story, isn’t it?
“Well, it did happen. It’s a story about two crabs.”

…and he is now thinking about writing his own book. In my post yesterday, I quoted Jarrett Krosoczka and the effect on him of a comment from a visiting author to his school - how much more aspirational then to read a book in print that is written by someone your own age! Not only has Joshua Button given children all over the world the opportunity to find out about a a fun family day out in his corner of Australia, he has opened them to the possibility that they could do it too. Thank you, Magabala Books!

“What do you all say to the idea of some sort of international campaign to encourage reading aloud to kids? A campaign for literacy, if you will, but one focused specifically on the benefits of parents and teachers reading aloud to kids.”

These are the words of Jen Robinson, from Jen Robinson’s Book Page, that I just read about five seconds ago and had to quote immediately. Please go to her blog and read this post for yourself–right now. Then let’s start talking about how this important work can begin.

This is the right time. In the United States, my home country, we have a president with two young daughters. In Thailand, my country of residence, we have a Prime Minister whose sister wrote the international best-selling children’s book, The Happiness of Kati. And in your corner of the world?

I’m sure there are events happening all over the globe that point to the Year of the Ox launching the Era of Reading Aloud to Children–let’s talk about this. Let’s make this happen.

Michael Morpurgo is one of the greats in contemporary British children’s literature - he is a master craftsman of storytelling who weaves fiction into such convincing historical contexts that you have to pinch yourself to remember the characters came out of his imagination

Two of his recent stories for older children have a wartime setting: but both stories also have roots in the present and a new generation, which bring a perspective of hope and renewal to counterbalance the feelings of despair engendered by these examples of the futility and madness of war. The Best Christmas Present in the World (Egmont, 2004) centres around a letter from Jim Macpherson, an English officer in the First World War, which relates the extraordinary events of the momentary truce and famous football game between the British and the Germans on Christmas Day, 1914. Many years later, at Christmas time, the letter is found in an old, second-hand desk by the narrator. It is marked as “Jim’s last letter, received 25th January 1915. To be buried with me when the time comes.” And so our narrator sets out to find “Dearest Connie” - and gives her the best Christmas present in the world…

Meanwhile, The Mozart Question (Walker Books, 2008) is the story of a world-famous violinist, Paolo Levi, whose parents’ lives were saved in the Second World War through playing the violin in an orchestra at a Nazi concentration camp. Lesley, the story’s narrator, is a young journalist who is sent to Venice to interview Paolo. She pointedly does not ask him the forbidden Mozart question - but the time is right for him to talk about it. He tells her about how he secretly began to play the violin, not realising that there were secrets he did not know about his parents’ past; and how eventually his playing “made music joyful” for his father once more.

Reading these books aloud to older children prompts a lot of questions and discussion. As Morpurgo says in his Author’s Note at the end of The Mozart Question:

It is difficult for us to imagine how dreadful was the suffering that went on in the Nazi concentration camps during the Second World War [...] It is when you hear the stories of the individuals who lived through it - Anne Frank, Primo Levi - that you begin to understand the horror just a little better…

By presenting these individual, albeit fictional accounts, Morpurgo is helping to ensure that the facts continue to be put before a new generation, that they may learn from them - and, dare I say it, he does so in a way that will probably have much more impact than a history lesson. His prose begs to be read aloud; and both books also have the distinct advantage of being illustrated by Michael Foreman - Morpurgo and Foreman really do make a wonderful team! And when they’ve listened to the stories and talked about them, children will want to go away and read them quietly on their own - again and again.

You can find other reviews of The Mozart Question on 100 Scope Notes, Shelf-Employed and Achukareviews; and one I could really empathise with at Findlay Library Kids.

We have just broken up from school for the holidays and our thoughts are turned towards Christmas next week. As well as reading Dickens’ A Christmas Carol together for the first time, which we all greatly enjoyed, we have been reading other stories with a Christmas setting, including two multicultural versions of the Nativity story, the birth of Jesus.

The first is The Road to Bethlehem: A Nativity Story from Ethiopia told by Elizabeth Laird (Collins, 1987). Elizabeth Laird has spent a lot of time in Ethiopia gathering stories from the oral tradition and her writing here certainly asks to be read aloud - not only is the story told simply with plenty of direct speech to bring it alive, but for those children who are familiar with the story from their own traditions, there is likely to be a good deal of intrigued discussion in which the differences are explored, including new characters and miracles.

The illustrations too are full of extra fascinating details - their vibrancy and appeal to young listeners/readers make it hard to take on board that they are taken from 200-year-old Ethiopian manuscripts in the British Library! Laird has added fascinating notes to each picture, which can be dipped into alongside reading the text - one Older Brother was particulary struck by was an episode on the Flight into Egypt showing arrowheads sticking out of the road to stop them: “but Mary took the hand of her Child, and walked through unharmed.”

The second book is one I blogged about last year but didn’t actually manage to share with my boys - however, we have now read together Ian Wallace’s beautifully illustrated version of The Huron Carol (Groundwood, 2006), based on an English translation of the Christmas carol written by a French Jesuit missionary, Father Jean de Brébeuf, for the Huron people in the 1600s. After reading through the first verse together line by line with its double-page-spread illustration, showing the people, landscapes and fauna of its Canadian roots, we have really enjoyed singing the whole carol from the music and words given at the end - in the original Huron, in French and in English. As we have pored over the familiar characters of the story in an unfamilar setting, and the baby Jesus wrapped in fur, surrounded by wolves and beavers, we have explored the reasons that the carol came into being.

We have all enjoyed sharing these books together - and any misgivings I might have had about confusing them with the different versions of what is to them a familiar story have been allayed - on the contrary, I believe their experience of the Christmas story has been enriched by them.

Yesterday I received a message of thanks from a friend, whose two-month-old son offered me the pleasure of giving him his very first book. “He didn’t take his eyes off it the whole time I was reading it to him,” his father announced, with pardonable pride– and I felt an immense happiness, knowing that he chose to read it to his son right away, rather than waiting until “he was old enough.”

The book my friend read to his child is not a typical first book for a baby, but it has bright, vibrant, full-page illustrations and short, bouncy verses which make it a first cousin to Mother Goose, that venerable choice for an infant’s introduction to the world of books. It’s the color,the music and cadence of the words, and the closeness and reassurance of being held that makes the experience of reading be a special time for a very new person who can’t yet speak for himself. And as far as understanding goes, who really knows how much–or how little– an infant can comprehend?

Snuggling with your father, hearing his voice directed especially toward you, seeing the glow of colors and the excitement of new shapes as the pages turn, what could be better than that? Nothing, except perhaps for the delight of choosing a book that can help this experience be as good as it can   be–and then hearing about it later from a happy parent.

Reading aloud to children is an act that needs all the encouragement it can get. We may not all be lucky enough to have children we can read to, but we can all give books so that other people can do this–and as early in a child’s life as is possible. When we give books, we give love.

In her recent interview with PaperTigers, Deborah Ellis talked about the background to her most recent book, Off to War: Voices of Soldiers’ Children. This is a very thought-provoking book for children aged 9+ about the effects on the children left behind of having parents fighting overseas. In a way, these are children whose day-to-day existence is not outwardly affected by conflict and yet on whose lives the consequences of war can and often do have a profound effect.

A book I have read again recently to my children is Milly Lee’s Nim and the War Effort, illustrated by Yangsook Choi (Sunburst/ Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2002). Set in San Francisco during the Second World War, it tells the story of Nim, a little girl who is intent on beating her arch enemy, Garland Stephenson, an unprincipled bully, from winning the school drive to collect old newspapers “for the war effort”. She strikes lucky when she is offered a garage piled high with bundles of newspapers and resourcefully calls the police to help her to get them to the school in time…

Nim’s rather strict upbringing is ostensibly unaffected by the fact that the Second World War is going on – but it pervades her life nevertheless. Her grandfather wears a lapel pin of crossed American and Chinese flags; and she is fully aware of what certain symbols around her mean – like a gold star on a white background in a front window, to show that “the family who lived there had lost someone in the war”. At the same time, their deeper significance is perhaps lost on her. She is too young to understand that the lapel pin is there to protect her family from the prejudice against Americans of Japanese ethnicity at that time; nor what the emotional impact of losing a loved one in a war overseas actually means. However, it is also these details that give the story a depth and a historical validity: and indeed, in an interview with PaperTigers, Milly Lee told us that, apart from slightly changing her rival’s name, this is a true story. Her grandfather received several phone-calls telling him that his grand-daughter was in the back of a police car, which must have caused more than a little concern, but for Milly:

Oh yes, the ride in the police paddy wagon was wonderful, exhilarating, jubilant, a thrill, and probably the best ride I’ve ever had - and I’ve been on many different kinds of rides since then: yak, elephant, dogsled, tundra-buggy, rafts, and camel!

I can just imagine! And I particularly like the ending, where Grandfather reminds Nim to “Be gracious in your moment of triumph” – and she places her last newspaper on Garland’s stack then “looked over her shoulder and flashed Grandfather an impish grin” – feisty!

This is a beautifully crafted story – and a beautifully illustrated one – which not only leaves young listeners cheering that Nim won the day but gives much pause for thought about racial prejudice and bullying.

In the next couple of months we are going to see three theatre productions all based on classic stories – The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope, Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson and A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Being a purist in these matters, I resolved that we would have to read the books together first…

Having just read the last three chapters of Treasure Island literally today, we will be starting A Christmas Carol this week, so I’ll report back on that one. It’s a story I’ve read several times myself and we’re looking forward to sharing it with our boys; and my mother has given us the audio-book too, read by Miriam Margoyles…

The other two were unknown entities. Of course I knew of them but I’m slightly ashamed to admit that I hadn’t actually read either of these classics before… but at the same time, it’s meant that our discussions of the book have been very much from the same stand-point: what’s going to happen next? Why did they do that? Can we have just one more chapter, pleeeease?

Both books are narrated in the first person. The language at times can be challenging to a modern reader but in both instances, the plot is so exciting and the descriptions so full and vivid that it’s worth the effort. I have to say, when we started The Prisoner of Zenda, I did wonder if I’d made a mistake: the beginning seemed turgid and the wit slightly precious: but the excitement built up so quickly that in fact I was being presented with the book for a book session at all hours, not just bedtime. By having them read aloud to them, children don’t get hung up on the difficult words anyway. We’ve learnt lots about the parts of castles and ships – but that wasn’t what it was all about; that’s just a side-line. What we’ve had are two great stories. Little brother’s “Wicked!” to describe The Prisoner of Zenda might not have been fully understood by Anthony Hope, but he can take it as a complement!

These stories are perhaps not what we would term multicultural but they do all espouse a strong line on tolerance and understanding, and doing what is right. They put across notions of right and wrong without preaching and without over-simplifying any issues involved – Long John Silver and Ben Gunn of Treasure Island are complex characters; Rudolf Rassendyll, the true hero of The Prisoner of Zenda has to make some pretty tough decisions against himself in order to maintain the status quo.

We have more than enjoyed reading these books together and it is not difficult to understand how they have stood the test of time. There are classics in every culture: which classics from your culture are you reading to your children?

Mexico is currently in the midst of its Día de los Muertos celebrations and there are some wonderful pictures appearing on various blogs, which highlight the color and exuberance of the festival – such as this at Zocalo de Mexican Folk Art; while Sue at Cottage in the Cedars recalls a past visit to Mexico and gives lots of background information. There are some great children’s books around – I blogged about some last year (including author René Colato Laínez’ as yet unpublished Magic Night, Noche Mágica). My Readable Feast has a new post about the Global Wonders dvd, with an extract to view about The Day of the Dead –it’s also worth scrolling down through the tag to her previous posts too, both for suggestions for children’s books and to see some very impressive home-made sugar skulls…

A new book, Abuelos, by Pat Mora and illustrated by Amelia Lau Carling (Groundwood, 2008), explores a less well-known tradition which carries traits of both Spanish and Pueblo cultures, and which is celebrated further north, in the mountains of New Mexico, around the time of the Winter solstice.

“Los abuelos” are not only grandfathers, in this context they are scary, sooty old men who come down from the mountains once a year to make sure the children have been good. At the time of the abuelos’ visit, villages have a big party, sharing music and food around a huge bonfire, and men dress up to tease the children.

In this delightful story, the preparations and the party are seen through the eyes of Amelia, our narrator, and her older brother Ray, who have only recently moved to the village. Amelia’s feelings are mixed – she loves the excitement but she’s not completely convinced that the abuelos are wholly mythical. Her father reassures her that it’s fun to be have a scary feeling sometimes – like at Halloween – because actually “No one is going to hurt you”. Ray teases and scares Amelia unmercifully but at the actual party, she’s the one who courageously leaps in to push an abuelo away from him…

The writing and the illustrations together perfectly capture both the magic of this tradition seen through Amelia’s young eyes and the warmth of the village community set against the cold, winter landscape. Monsters loom large, whether in caves up in the snowy mountains, or in the form of masked villagers – certainly all enough to convince Amelia to do anything her mother asks her straight away!

This is a great new addition to the bookshelf, whether for a cosy winter’s bedtime or for those in hotter climes wanting to escape the mid-December heat – as Pat herself says in her author’s note at the end:

Since I’m easily frightened, I chose to write a gentle version of how I imagine a spunky little girl responding to a visit by “los abuelos.” Enjoy!

PaperTigers’ current Book of the Month, Alfredito Flies Home by Jorge Argueta and illustrated by Luis Garay (Groundwood 2007) is the story of Alfredito and his family’s return to El Salvador for the first time in four years, since arriving as refugees in San Francisco. The writing bubbles over with happiness and excitement as readers/listeners are carried along by Alfredito’s narration of events – the preparation, the flight and the hectic, happy holiday itself.

This opens the way for young readers/listeners to empathise with Alfredito’s experiences, even if they have never been in his situation themselves. They will then also be able to engage with those other moments which give pause for thought: such as the allusion to the family’s original journey to America under the guidance of “Señor Coyote”; the visit to his grandparents’ graves; or the underlying reality of separation, with some family in America, some in El Salvador.

For children who have parallel experiences to Alfredito’s, on the other hand, Alfredito’s story is invaluable: as Debbie of American Indians in Children’s Literature pointed out in her review.

Luis Garay’s sensitively attuned illustrations make this book extra special and provide plenty of details both within and outside the narrative – so there’s a lot to discuss. I would recommend this book be shared at least the first time children are introduced to it – not only because its tone so lends itself to being read aloud but also because of the discussion and/or questions it will provoke.

We will be publishing a full review of Wabi Sabi by Mark Reibstein with art by Ed Young in our next issue of PaperTigers so I’m not going to say much now - except that it is stunning and enriching, a gentle, heart-warming delight that lends itself to being read aloud in many different ways! It had already been nominated for a Fiction Picture Book Cybils Award by the time I got round to it (as had a couple of others on my list, making decisions much easier… I finally plumped for Colors! ¡Colores!, which I blogged about last week…).

We’ve been waiting for Wabi Sabi to come out for a while – and one of Aline’s and my thrills at the Bologna Book Fair in April was being shown the proofs for the book by Andrew Smith at Little, Brown and Company, where we learnt that we were not looking at the original but at the second version of art-work…

Yes, this book has an amazing, Wabi Sabi-esque story behind it. It’s hard to explain but Alvina, over at Blue Rose Girls, is the book’s editor and has blogged about its amazing story in four installments – read from Number 1 now! In the meantime, here’s what she says about what Wabi Sabi actually means:

Mark spent some time living in Japan, and while there he was introduced to the concept of wabi sabi. He asked many people about it, and they all paused and said, “That’s hard to explain.” but they would offer a poem, or a photograph, a small description, and gradually, Mark began to piece together the meaning of wabi sabi.

So, what is wabi sabi? Well, as I understand it, it is a Japanese philosophical belief in finding beauty in the imperfect, the unexpected, in simplicity and modesty. For example, a old, cracked clay tea cup is wabi sabi, but a fine china cup is not. Fallen leaves in muddy water is wabi sabi. A scruffy, multi-colored cat can be wabi sabi. Mark actually named his cat in Japan Wabi Sabi!

Her final post on the subject came out on Monday and has had me chuckling aloud – but only after I knew the outcome. All’s well, that ends well! Phew – if ever a book has gone through a parallel journey in real life, this is it!

As the nights start to draw in at bedtime here in the North of England, we start to long for a bit of color – and we have two bilingual English/Spanish books to hand at the moment, both of which we recently reviewed on PaperTigers - De Colores: Bright with Colors, a traditional Spanish song illustrated brightly indeed by David Diaz, who is currently one of our featured artists (Marshall Cavendish, 2008); and Colors! ¡Colores!, by Jorge Luján, and exquisitely illustrated by Piet Grobler, (Groundwood Books, 2008).

We haven’t sung De Colores yet but I’m sure we will and meanwhile, the words and pictures are as warm and bright as the music will be.

And we have all fallen in love with Jorge Luján’s whimsical poem, which is definitely to be savoured and re-read – even at the same sitting. It makes a lovely, gentle bed-time read and sends the imagination floating away towards the land of dreams. Jorge, let us know if it is ever turned into a video like Tarde de invierno / Winter Afternoon!

Trickster tales are to be found in the repertoire of traditional stories from all over the world and are of universal appeal. Linking in with our current focus on the US’s Hispanic Heritage Month, here are two that are sure to have young listeners enthralled:

Love and Roast Chicken (Carolrhoda Books, 2004), retold and illustrated by Barbara Knutson, is the story of how Cuy the guinea pig saves himself and tricks Tio Antonio the fox not once but the archetypal three times. Children will laugh with glee at the narrative and will love the energetic woodcut-and-watercolor illustrations. Set in the Andes, the well-written story effortlessly interjects Spanish and Quechuan phrases into the English text – for which there’s a glossary at the end, as well as some background information. You can read about Barbara’s two years in Peru here, including a great suggestion to carry a sketch pad with you when you go travelling.

Yuyi Morales’ original story Just a Minute: A Trickster Tale and Counting Book (Chronicle Books, 2003) is another joy. Grandma Beetle is far too busy to go away with Senor Cavalero when he comes knocking. Death in the form of the humorously depicted skeleton is thus forced to wait, while she prepares one, two, three etc things for the birthday celebrations at the end: and eventually he gives up altogether and leaves in disgust. Yuyi’s humorous artwork and snappy dialogue mean that children will not be scared by the story – they are much more likely to be too busy cheering Grandma Beetle on. Indeed, Bever’s Book Blog makes the point that many young listeners will probably not even realise the book is about death until it is pointed out to them. Open Wide, Look Inside has this podcast, recommending the book for cross-curricular and multicultural teaching. Read our interview with Yuyi, where she talks about the book - including the many children she has met “who think that Señor Calavera, the skeleton in my book Just a Minute is a cute guy, and that I should marry him.”! And don’t miss Yuyi’s delightful Personal View, My Childhood Readings: A Short List to Grow On, in our current issue.

For more Latin American trickster tales, Latina storyteller Olga Loya has recorded four stories, told in both Spanish and English, for her audiobook entitled Tío Conejo. As well as the one about Uncle Rabbit, there are a monkey, an opossum and a dog.

Do let us know if you have enjoyed these or any other trickster tales…

Following on from our meeting with librarians-turned-publisher in Bologna, I recently discovered Silly Mammo by Yohannes Gebregeorgis (African Sun Press, 2002), the first ever bilingual English/Amharic book. It’s the story of a boy who keeps making mistakes by following instructions given in hindsight – starting with his mother telling him to put his earnings into his pocket so he doesn’t lose them (ie coins)… and then he is paid with a bottle of milk, which he then pours into his pockets… and so the story progresses: until he wins the hand of a beautiful girl by making her laugh. It’s a delightful story, which will make young listeners laugh aloud.

The illustrations are by Bogale Belachew, an Ethiopian artist, who has given the story a contemporary setting. This reflects the books initial raison d’être, which was to provide Ethiopian children with a story in their own language from their own culture.

“Yohannes emigrated to the United States half a lifetime ago. He became an American citizen. But he came back, giving up a comfortable life as a children’s librarian in San Francisco, because it bothered him that while Ethiopian kids may go to school, they have no books.”

He founded a mobile library with a difference in Awassa, Ethiopia: drawn by donkeys; and has then gone on to publish books for children to read in local languages. Silly Mammo was the first of these.

The book is available from Silver Chicks, with all proceeds going to EthiopiaReads (check out their blog too), also founded by Yohannes.

Read this article (where my quotation above comes from) and watch this video – the faces of the children say it all!