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A mysterious thing happened the other day - drops of water starting falling from the sky, soaking into the ground and forming puddles on the streets. I thought - I remember something like this from long, long ago. I think it's called "rain." And rain it did - for the first time in I can't remember how long. I had to walk to pick up my take-out dinner from a nearby restaurant and in order to get there had to cross a section of the LA River. Usually the water meanders slowly, finding its course around patches of mud and plant life, but Friday evening the water was rushing like I'd never seen. It was a strange sensation standing on the bridge, watching the water rushing out from under. And later that evening I even heard some thunder, which clapped loudly enough to set off several car alarms. I think I've only heard thunder maybe three times in these six years that we've lived in LA. Being a California native himself and very much unaccustomed to any weather other than sunny, the cat did not like any of this at all...

So after setting it aside in great frustration sometime ago, I picked up "The Woodland Post" again and finished it off:
This one was a bitter battle to the end - a good deal of repainting elements that just weren't working. I think part of the problem I had initially was that I fell in love with the color of the sloppy digital color-study I painted for it, knowing full well that I can't possibly reproduce the exact color from the study in a traditional medium. I'm pretty content with the color overall, but there are all kinds of other problems with it. For example, the rather ambiguous lighting and I've never been happy with the leaves on the trees. Regardless, it's a personal piece that I'm ready to be done with - I need to move on to something else! Well, for those that are interested, there are prints at my Shop.

I don't generally traffic in kidlit news as I find others out there do it much better and more frequently, but this story from The Walrus hit my radar while checking out information on Grimm tales. The Grimm reference is almost tangential, the story is about the disappearance of childhood and the audience for books to go with. In particular I chortled at this particular quote:

If picture books are on the wane, Young Adult fiction is thriving. “You should write YA,” a publisher told me. “That’s where the money is.”

The Postman’s Dog
Written by Lisa Shanahan; Illustrated by Wayne Harris

Reviewed by Ilene Goldman

I have a confession to make. I read picture books because I aspire to publish one. My writing mentor suggested that I read as many picture books as I can as a way to learn the format, understand what works and what doesn’t, and get a sense of the field. I jumped into my homework with gusto—the staff at my local Barnes & Noble knows me by name and I bundle home dozens of randomly chosen books from the local library each month.

I have developed my own taste in picture books—I love words that undulate and flow, phrases that surprise, and ideas that stretch my imagination. When illustrations engage me beyond the story—adding depth, delight, and detail—I am enthralled. I keep a spreadsheet of everything I’ve read and have marked my favorite books, authors, and illustrators. I think I’ve done my mentor proud.

So, as I delved into The Postman’s Dog, I was at first a bit confused. I adored the illustrations, but the language didn’t grab me at first. I saw more words and felt less poetry than I desired. Yet, because I wanted to jump into the illustrations, I was compelled to continue reading. I read and reread.

The Postman’s Dog is an easy story: Charlie the Postman adores his job. He delivers mail to his neighbors and their dogs and pauses with each pair for a story and a pat. When he becomes lonely, his friends suggest he get his own dog. Lucy reconnects Charlie to his community and he rediscovers his joy.

This book revels in the connections we make with each other and teaches that we must rely on our community in our darkest, loneliest times. It celebrates age and touches on death in a gentle, natural fashion. It is a lovely book for a grandparent to read and dog lovers will appreciate beautiful illustrations and descriptions of several breeds.

Through its luscious illustrations and simple words, The Postman’s Dog is a story of a salvation. And while I like talking animals (and vegetables) as much as the next person, what works here is that there is no anthropomorphizing. This is real life, which is sometimes all we need.

Rating: *\*\