Children's Literature

Inkheart

2010-01-20T22:11:00.000-08:00

Inkheart

Cornelia Funke

At over 530 pages, Inkheart is a hefty book for a child, but it is an engaging, enchanting read. I was unable to put it down and finished it in a little over a day and a half. I intend to follow up with the rest of the series.

Cornelia Funke, a German writer, has the same magic touch as J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. It is unfortunate that, to most readers, bibliophiles do not make for such exciting heroes as boy wizards. But heroes who lose themselves in books are exactly my speed. Funke’s writing has the ability to transport the reader into the world of her novel much as the novel’s protagonists can transport literary beings into their reality. When she described an Italian villa with its many rooms filled floor to ceiling with shelves and shelves of books, I felt I had stumbled into my own personal paradise. And when she described the shock and horror and grief of the villa’s owner when she discovered all of her books had been destroyed, I felt it in the pit of my stomach.

I saw much of myself in the characters: Meggie, sleeping with books under her pillow, carrying them around to comfort her like old friends; Mo, whose heart goes out to aged and damaged books as if they have a life of their own; and Elinor, whose books are her children, her passion, and her solace, who grieves for them like dear friends when they are lost to her. These are such kind-natured, gentle characters--booklovers like me--and they seemed so fragile. I was terrified something bad was going to happen to them. I just wanted them to be left alone with their books. I also felt sympathy for Dustfinger, the fish out of water, plucked unwittingly from a simple fairy tale world and unable to return, although that’s his one desire. Disfigured by Basta, constantly threatened, always manipulated with the promise of something he’s never going to get.

Her villains, Capricorn and Basta, are truly evil, moreso for the fact that they have none of the moral limitations of living people. They are literary constructs, and as such they are driven by pure malice. They are as relentless as any Lord Voldemort, and more terrifying to me because they have no real sense of purpose, just to spread their evil; Voldemort at least had some clearly defined goals.

The movie, for me, made several unwelcome changes to the plot. In an ending not at all true to the book, Dustfinger is sent back to the world of Inkheart. Resa, Meggie's mother, is not only restored to her family but regains her voice. Farid, the boy conjured from Arabian Nights, ends up as part of the Fulcher family. Probably, these changes were made to supply the requisite "happy ending" closure to viewers in case none of the sequels to the novel make it to the big screen. The change that really upset things for me was probably one that would go unnoticed by many. Inkheart the novel drew me in from the very first paragraph with its description of Mo and Meggie’s cozy book-cherishing existence. I longed to live in that old house with stacks of books on every imaginable surface, cuddling up under the covers and reading long into the night, books hidden under my pillow. I loved that world from the first sentence and did not want to see it disrupted. The movie did away with this sentimental existence entirely and opened the film with the father/daughter duo encountering Dustfinger in a crowded marketplace and then fleeing from him in a chase sequence. For me, this set a tone that was untrue to the novel from the very beginning, and I admit, predisposed me against the movie.

But what really ruined the movie was that most of the secondary characters were all wrong. The movie’s Dustfinger was a mysterious and almost sexy character, whereas the book’s Dustfinger was meek and wary, like a whipped dog. In the movie, Dustfinger at times seemed to lead Capricorn’s minions, with Basta being threatened by him—in the book, Dustfinger was terrified of Basta, who scarred his face. In fact, everyone in the novel was terrified of Basta who was a truly malicious and sinister character. The movie’s Basta was more of a stooge—a muscle villain.

In fact, the movie villains as a whole lacked the bite of their counterparts in the novel. Generally speaking, I am a huge fan of Andy Serkis, whose portrayal of Gollum in The Lord of the Rings was nothing short of breathtaking. I know he has the talent to play a villain that could turn your blood cold, and in theory he would seem a good choice to play Capricorn. In practice, however, his characterization just didn’t feel right. He was too cheeky and urbane, not the pale, chilling Capricorn I pictured in the novel. A better choice would have been a gaunt elderly actor, like Christopher Lee or Ian McKellan. The blackcoats, Capricorn’s soldiers, were also much less threatening in the movie, and the Magpie was stripped of her eerie menace entirely, as well as her character’s secret—in the novel she is Capricorn’s mother.

It wasn't just the villainous characters who received an unwelcome movie makeover. Actress Helen Mirren’s Elinor is less bookish and sheltered than the novel’s reclusive bibliophile, actually coming across as elegant and sophisticated. In a waste of a marvelous actress, Elinor becomes a prop for comic relief in scenes where she rides a motorbike and a unicorn. And utterly wrecked for me was the character of Fenoglio, the lovable Italian grandfather who wrote Inkheart. Jim Broadbent is a brilliant actor whose work I highly admire, but his characterization of the author as a scarf-wearing, vapid, egotist was just too much of a departure.

My recommendation would be that true book lovers read and enjoy the novel—fantasy/adventure lovers will be smitten—and skip the movie, which ultimately comes across as a forgettable and unaffecting fairy tale fantasy. It’s not terrible to watch, but a day later you’ll be hard-pressed to tell anyone what happened.

Funke, C. (2003). Inkheart. New York, NY: Scholastic.

Inkheart [Motion picture]. (2007). United States: New Line Cinema.

The City of Ember

2010-01-20T21:41:00.000-08:00

The City of Ember

Jeanne DuPrau

Imagine a world where the only thing standing between you and complete darkness is a 200-year-old generator that no one really understands, a world where you are reliant for nourishment on a dwindling supply of canned foods and for light on a cache of lightbulbs that will someday run out. This is the world the reader encounters in The City of Ember.

Ember is a subterranean dwelling created two centuries before by “the Builders” to ensure the survival of mankind in an uncertain time. The citizens of Ember are unaware of their origins; all they know is their existence in Ember, which many feel is growing precarious in spite of the reassurances of the city’s mayor.

Doon Harrow and Lina Mayfleet are two young teenagers who have just been assigned to their first jobs. By chance, the two stumble upon mysterious documents written by “the Builders” which after much deciphering turn out to be “Instructions for Egress”, or exit. While searching for the exit from Ember, the duo also discover that the mayor has been hoarding rare food items and lightbulbs in a secret storeroom to ensure his own survival when the town inevitably falls into chaos.

In the end, Doon and Lina flee the doomed city in a canoe, bringing Lina’s baby sister with them. In a tearjerking ending, the children find their way to the surface and see the sun rise for the very first time. Safely free of Ember, they toss the instructions down a very deep hole in the hope that the citizens of Ember will find them and follow them to safety.

By and large, I thought the 2008 movie version of City of Ember stayed true to the spirit of the novel. It captured the claustrophobic feel of a dying city, the terror of the increasingly frequent blackouts, and the almost palpable denial of its citizens that their way of life is threatened. The city as depicted in the movie looked pretty much as I had pictured it from the novel’s description—washed out and sepia toned, always cast in shadow.

The movie’s casting was spot-on. Saoirse Ronan captured Lina Mayfleet’s enthusiastic and inquisitive spirit perfectly, while Harry Treadaway nailed Doon Harrow’s serious and somewhat brooding nature. Tim Robbins provided a more fleshed out version of Doon’s weary father and Martin Landau was wonderful as Saul, Doon’s mentor in the pipeworks, a character who did not appear in the book but was added to the movie. The best casting, however, was Bill Murray as the mayor of Ember; Murray embodied the mayor’s pompousity, which belies a subtle menace lurking below the surface.

The most notable change made for the movie was the Hollywoodization of the escape scene. At one point, the children are riding in some sort of pedal car invented by Doon’s father, and the canoe escape sequence closely resembles a water coaster ride at an amusement park. These elements of don’t significantly alter the story, but they made it more action/adventurish than the book’s escape sequence, which is more tense than exciting.

Perhaps fearing that none of the book’s sequels will make it to the screen, the movie also tacked on a bit of a “just desserts” ending for the mayor as well—as he flees to his secret lair while the lights of Ember begin to fail, he is trapped inside with a giant rat-beast and presumably devoured.

I would recommend both the book and the movie, but I personally preferred the novel because it made me ponder the possibility of such an existence—subterranean, enclosed, and threatened by impending, unending darkness. As a 33-year-old who admittedly still sleeps with the closet light on, the threat of utter blackness terrified me—I even had a nightmare or two while reading this novel. That being the case, I’d recommend it for older children and pre-teens. The movie, on the other hand, is appropriate for all audiences.

DuPrau, J. (2003). The city of Ember. New York, NY: Yearling.

City of Ember [Motion picture]. (2008). United States: Twentieth Century Fox.

Aquamarine

2009-11-17T01:43:00.000-08:00

Aquamarine

Author: Alice Hoffman

I was able to identify with the book Aquamarine quite easily. There was a sense of change in the air, change that is not necessarily welcome. I went through a period of time like that once. My grandmother had died and her home, my second home as a child, was to be torn down. My brother was preparing to go away to college. Even the restaurant where my family ate every Sunday of my entire life was closing down. I remember that sense of change rushing toward me and nothing I could do to stop it, but having the urge to rebel all the same. Aquamarine is full of the melancholy of the end of summer and the end of an era.

The movie version of Aquamarine, however, is a Disneyized piece of preteen fluff that has been stripped every bit of the novel’s substance in favor of a pop music soundtrack and a shopping mall montage.

The big, huge, gigantic, glaring difference is that Aquamarine walks. The mermaid in the novel never grows legs or walks on land. Claire and Hailey have to be resourceful to get her out on a date with Raymond, which they accomplish by using a wheelchair. The movie simply invents a Little Mermaid clause in which Aquamarine can have legs from sunrise to sunset, but if she’s touched by water, her fin will grow back. And of course, the fin growing back at sunrise predicament causes several Cinderella-like moments in which she must flee the boy of her dreams at the most inconvenient moment lest her true identity be discovered.

Another major deviation in the movie is that Hailey is the one who is moving, not Claire. Hailey’s mother, a marine biologist, has received a grant that requires her to move to Australia, and she’s dragging Hailey along. In the novel, it is Claire who is reluctantly relocating to Florida with her grandparents. The movie is actually set in Florida; the book never specifies a geographical setting, but discussions of harsh winters with an early onset indicate that it is somewhere in the northeast.

In the movie, the Capri Club is the place to be. It is owned by Claire's grandparents and appears to be a thriving summer mecca for teens. In the novel, the club is about to close its doors forever and is in fact is being razed within a few days. It is already a ghost town; the only ones who still go there are the girls. The mystique of the dying club adds so much to the novel; in fact, it was probably the element I liked best. The Capri Club almost felt like a character in and off itself.

A final, and possibly the lamest, difference in the movie and the book is in the character of Aquamarine herself. In the novel, she’s a spoiled marine princess who is used to getting her way, and she refuses to go back to sea until she gets a date with the boy she’s fallen in love with. There is no question of whether it’s real love, or whether love exists. In the movie, Aquamarine is a sensitive soul who believes in true love and is fleeing an authoritarian sea king of a father who is trying to force her into an arranged marriage. And of course she has a heart of gold.

I’m sure there are plenty of preteens who enjoyed this movie, but in my opinion it was utterly forgettable and utterly inexcusable for anyone who read and enjoyed the novel. Rather than coopt the name of a very readable piece of juvenile literature, the producers of this tripe would have been better off naming it what it really was: Little Mermaid II.

Hoffman, A. (2001). Aquamarine. New York, NY: Scholastic.

Aquamarine [Motion picture]. (2006). United States: Twentieth Century Fox.

Mem Fox

2009-11-17T00:48:00.000-08:00

What I adore about Mem Fox’s work, what truly makes me want to run out and purchase every title of hers that I can lay my hands on, is the diversity of style that they encompass. An obvious reason for this is that each of the works I was fortunate enough to read was done by a different illustrator. With the other children’s picture book authors I’ve read, the look and feel of the art remains constant from one book to another. In this case, each is unrecognizable from its predecessors and is truly, truly unique.

Guess What?

Author: Mem Fox

Illustrator: Vivienne Goodman

The story begins with the line “Far away from here lives a crazy lady called Daisy O’Grady…” then proceeds to demnstrate just how crazy Daisy O'Grady is. The text has a repetitive pattern: each page asks a new question, such as “Is she fond of animals?” and then makes the imperative statement, “Guess!” The answer appears on the next page and is depicted in the next illustration. Then another question is asked, and the “Guess!” command repeated.

Each question and answer combo makes Daisy seem a bit more off-the-wall, until finally the reader notices that all evidence points to Daisy being a witch: “Does she wear a long black dress?”, “Does she have a black cat?”, “Does she have a broomstick?”, “Does she like to fly at night?” The answer to all the aforementioned questions is “Yes!” Finally, the author asks the question, “Is she a cursing, cackling, cranky old witch? Guess!”, then goes on to inform the reader that “Some people say she’s really mean. But guess what? She’s NOT!” So the reader even gets a little lesson about tolerance.

The art in this story is described on the copyright page as “gouache on watercolor paper.” I’m not an art critic, and I don’t know what that means! To me, the drawings look almost like twisted Norman Rockwell parodies. The little details just make these illustrations, both the things that seem to belong, like an upside down box of cereal, a hot water bottle, and a teddy bear, and then things that don’t seem to belong, like frogs, iguanas, and spiders. This is a truly clever and creative children’s book, probably one of the most engaging I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. I was excited every time I turned a page, anticipating what might be coming next.

Fox, M. (1988). Guess what? San Diego, CA: Gulliver Books.

Hello Baby

Author: Mem Fox

Illustrator: Steve Jenkins

This story begins with the question, “Hello, baby. Who are you?” Then goes on to ascertain the identity of the baby by asking rhyming questions such as “Are you a monkey with clever toes?/Perhaps you’re a porcupine twitching its nose?” It goes through many different animals: monkey, porcupine, eagle, gecko, lion, hippo, leopard, elephant, warthog, crocodile, zebra, and owl.

Each animal is pictured in very textured collage art. Sometimes it looks as if the animal is rendered in sandpaper; at others times it seems to be made out of crinkly crepe paper. I was especially drawn to the eyes of each animal, which seemed to me deep and soulful.

As the book draws to a close, the author asks the question “Then who are you, baby?/Wait, let me guess--/Are you my treasure?/The answer is…yes!” Very, very sweet book!

Fox, M. (2009). Hello baby. New York, NY: Beach Lane Books.

Where the Giant Sleeps

Author: Mem Fox

Illustrator: Vladimir Radunsky

This book had me at the cover art. The “giant” is a farmscape seen from above, with trees for hair, barns for its eyes and mouth, and a hill for a nose. I found it so imaginative and engaging. The plot is quite simple: a child sleeps and dreams of locales where various fairy tale creatures, such as giants, fairies, ogres, goblins, pirates, and wizards sleep. The copyright page indicates that the art is “gouache on handmade paper.” Once again, this means nothing to me! The style to me is reminiscent of impressionistic paintings: details are dotty, grainy, and out of focus; one must take in the entire image at once to really see what it is. It’s a very misty, filmy quality that definitely conveys the impression of a dream.

Fox, M. (2007). Where the giant sleeps. Orlando, FL: Harcourt.

Feathers and Fools

Author: Mem Fox

Illustrator: Nicholas Wilton

Peacocks vs. swans! The peacocks are so terrified of the vast differences they see between themselves and the swans—swans can swim and fly, they cannot—that they begin to sharpen feathers to defend themselves when the swans inevitably attack them and try to eradicate their way of life. The swans, seeing that the peacocks are setting up a store of weapons, create an arsenal of their own. Soon, the two races of birds are locked in an arms race. Predictably, one side opens fire and the birds obliterate each other. In the aftermath, a swan egg and a peacock egg hatch, and all the hatchlings can see are the similarities between them—both have feathers, legs, heads, and eyes—and decide to become friends.

The art is described on the copyright page as “acrylic on illustration board.” To me, they look like the calendar depictions you often see around the holidays of “seven swans a swimming” and “six geese a-laying.” The colors are quite vibrant. The images at times also reminded me of drawings painted on wood and at other times of something sewn into a tapestry—like a Bayeux Tapestry of the great Swan/Peacock War. It was very imaginative.

Fox, M. (2000). Feathers and fools. San Diego, CA: Voyager Books.

Bob Graham

2009-11-17T00:47:00.000-08:00

Jethro Byrd, Fairy Child

Author: Bob Graham

The theme of Jethro Byrd, Fairy Child is that there is a lot to be missed out on for those who do not take the time to look. A little girl named Annabelle really wants to see fairies, so she’s always on the lookout, even though her father tells her that she won’t find any in the cement and weeds of the city. But Annabelle keeps on believing and keeps looking, and eventually, she finds a family of fairies right in her own backyard. She tells her parents, but they are unable to see the fairy family. Her mother decides to humor Annabelle by serving the fairies tea and cakes, but Annabelle’s father never looks up from the work with which he is obsessed. Annabelle gets to hear the fairies play music and watch them dance, and when they depart, they leave in her possession a magic watch which keeps fairy time. Thereafter, whenever Annabelle is wearing her special watch, she can see fairies all the time.

The copyright right page indicates that the drawings are done in watercolor and ink. To me, they look like pen sketches with muted, blended colors filled in. The cityscapes, which were prominent throughout, had a very similar feel to the illustrations in a Caldecott Award winning picture book I read a few weeks ago, The Man Who Walked Between the Towers. It just had that same pen-sketched-on-notebook-paper feel for me. What was totally different, however, was the depiction of the people. Graham’s human characters all look like Ziggy; they have very round faces with little to no definition.

Bob Graham won the Kate Greenaway Medal in 2002 for Jethro Byrd, Fairy Child.

Graham, B. (2002). Jethro Byrd fairy child. Cambridge, MA: Candlewick Press.

How to Heal a Broken Wing

Author: Bob Graham

This is a simple story, but an effecting one. In a large city, a bird flies into the glass façade of a skyscraper. It lays wounded on the pavement with people passing by and stepping over it; no one seems to hear or see its pain. Then a small boy named Will stops and picks it up. He wraps it in his mother’s scarf, carries it home, and cares for it. Illustrations show Will and his family binding the bird’s wind, giving it water with a medicine dropper, and putting it to rest in a box of newspapers. They set the bird near a window so it can see outside, giving it hope, and eventually, the bird flies again.

The illustrations in this book remind me of two things. First, the drawings of the buildings remind me of the cityscapes in The Man Who Walked Between the Towers, by Mordicai Gerstein; they have that same aesthetic of pen sketches on notebook paper quality. Second, the people in his illustrations remind me of the comic strip character Ziggy, with round faces and noses.

The story made me think of my grandfather, who was an avid outdoorsman and passionate animal-lover. He was always finding something abandoned in the woods and bringing it home to nurse back to health. I remember him nurturing two baby squirrels when I was about six or so; I watched him feed them with a medicine dropper, too. One of the babies didn’t make it, but the one that did lived in his backyard for over a decade, and whenever Granddad would go out to putter in his garden, Greg the squirrel would jump down from a low-hanging tree branch onto his head and ride around on his shoulder, pulling shelled pecans out of his shirt pocket. This is the kind of love and reverence for nature that this story evokes.

How to Heal a Broken Wing was shortlisted for the Greenaway Medal in 2009.

Graham, B. (2008). How to heal a broken wing. Cambridge, MA: Candlewick Press.

Mini Grey

2009-11-17T00:19:00.000-08:00

The Adventures of the Dish and the Spoon

Author: Mini-Grey

“Hey Diddle Diddle

The Cat and the Fiddle

The Cow Jumped over the Moon

The Little Dog laughed to see such fun

And the Dish ran away with the Spoon.”

The narrative of this picture book unfolds like an “E True Hollywood Story.” Their passion incited by hearing the children’s nursery rhyme sung on a phonograph record, Dish and Spoon decide to run away together, jumping off a cliff and sailing away to America, where they become a famous vaudeville act.

Things go great for awhile, until the reader is told “The Dish got a taste for the high life.” Soon they run out of money and are forced to borrow from loan sharks called The Carving Knife Gang. The duo decides to rob a bank to get the money to pay them off, but The Dish is broken during an escape attempt. The Spoon allows himself to be arrested, saying “The Dish was broken and so was I.”

After serving 25 years for robbery, the Spoon is released, deported, and finds himself in a second-hand shop. There, amidst all the broken and mismatched tableware, The Spoon is reunited with The Dish, who has been glued back together again, and once again, they run away to seek fame and fortune.

The art in this book is collage-like, and very evocative of a bad noir film from the 1930’s or 1940’s. It also has that documentary, “E True Hollywood” feel to it. This book was both a joy to read and a treat to look at, hilarious and extremely clever.

The Adventures of the Dish and the Spoon won the Kate Greenaway Medal in 2007.

Grey, M. (2006). The adventures of the dish and the spoon. New York, NY: Alfred
A. Knopf.

Traction Man Is Here!

Author: Mini Grey

Traction Man is a Buzz Lightyear-esque action figure, complete with fighting accessories, square-cut jaw, and a macho attitude. The box he comes in says it all: “Traction Man is here! (Wearing Combat Boots, Battle Pants, and his Warfare Shirt.) Generic Action Figure with Dazzle-Painted Battle Pants. Warning: contains small parts and loud shirt. May cause choking if swallowed. Not suitable for young children. Do not microwave.”

Traction Man’s adventures include treasure hunting in dishwater lake with his feisty companion Scrubbing Brush, exploring Planet Quilt while saving plastic farm animals from the vile clutches of the Pillow Monsters, and rescuing a trio of swooning fashion dolls from being buried alive by the evil Professor Spade. But Traction Man is ill-prepared for the next trial that is in store for him. After traveling to Grandma’s house in the Giant InterGalactic People Mover, Traction Man is presented with his very own Christmas gift: “An all-in-one knitted green romper suit and matching bonnet.”

The next illustration, which shows Traction Man all decked out in his brand-new Granny-knitted suit is priceless. Any reader who is familiar with the holiday film A Christmas Story will immediately think of the Christmas morning scene when Ralphie’s mom makes him put on the pink bunny pajamas. This is just that funny!

Subsequently, Traction Man tries to continue his adventures, attempting to save a cupcake from the clutches of Dr. Sock, but the victim and the villain both laugh hysterically when they see his outfit. On the next page, “Traction Man is sitting on the edge of the Kitchen Cliff (wondering how long he will have to wear his all-in-one knitted green romper suit and matching bonnet).” He looks so sad, my thought right before turning the page was, “Is Traction Man contemplating suicide?” (And I swear, I heard this thought in the voice of the announcer from that 60’s Batman television series!)

Suddenly, a set of spoons fall from the Kitchen Cliff and are in danger of being attacked by The Broom. Traction Man has to save them, but he feels powerless in his ridiculous outfit. Then Scrubbing Brush has a brilliant idea: the duo unravels the green romper suit and uses the yarn to lower Scrubbing Brush down to save the spoons. When the adventure is over and spoons are safely back atop the Kitchen Cliff, Traction Man is wearing a green knitted loincloth.

The next page shows Traction Man and Scrubbing Brush relaxing on a book in the midset of an expanse of blue carpeting. Traction Man is wearing his “Knitted Green Swimming Pants and Matching Bonnet.”

I adored this book. Traction Man’s adventures remind me of my brother playing with his action figures, how they always seemed to end up in the strangest places, like inside the vacuum cleaner and the toilet tank. I especially remember them flying through the air—they always seemed to be flying!

Traction Man is Here! won the Boston Globe-Horn Book Award in 2005, a year in which it was also shortlisted for the Kate Greenaway Medal. It was also shortlisted for the Blue Peter Book Award in 2006 and the Hampshire Illustrated Book Award in 2007.

Grey, M. (2005). Traction Man is here. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf.

The Ghost's Child

2009-11-17T00:13:00.000-08:00

The Ghost’s Child

Author: Sonya Hartnett

I was partially drawn to this book because it is a ghost story. The problem is, it isn’t really. There is a ghost--a somber little child-ghost--who shows up on the doorstep of Matilda, the main character, and asks for tea. But his only function in the story is as a sounding board for Matilda to tell her life story. The young reader who chooses this book based on the title will quickly discern that, while this story does have a ghost and a certain eerie, chilly, ghostly feel to it, there is no element of horror or the macabre, or even any mystery. It all boils down to an old lady reflecting on her life as it draws to a close.

As a grown-up reader, there was much that happens to the main character that I could appreciate--emotionally shaping, life-changing events like miscarrying a very wanted baby and realizing that the man she loves more than anything in the world is someone she simply cannot hold onto. The ensuing search for that man, a voyage which is really a journey of self-discovery, is certainly something to which an adult reader in her mid-thirties can relate. But what about a girl in her early tweens? Hmmmm…not so much!

Eventually, the story takes on an esoteric quality that makes the reader doubt the narrator’s sanity. When Matilda goes sailing off in a tiny boat in a random direction in search of her lost love, the reader immediately thinks, “Where’s she going? How’s she going to find him?” Then she starts having conversations with sea creatures, and the reader thinks, “OK, she’s going mad from being at sea…” Then she attends a grudge-match between a kraken and a leviathan, at which point the West Wind carries her off to an island where she meets up with the man she lost. This seems like an obvious hallucination; the problem is the narration never changes in any way that would indicate that the narrator is hallucinating. And once the seeming hallucination ends and the narrator rejoins reality, the reader is never given any sort of explanation. It’s all a bit much to process.

My final verdict on this novel would have to be that it is just too mature to be classified as children’s literature, not out of any sort of inappropriateness, but rather a combination of its general blandness and its reflective nature. I just can’t see that even a 14-year-old would find much of interest in this novel. For this reason, I decided to instead seek out several early fiction books by noted international children’s authors. These reviews will be compiled in the next few posts.

Sonya Hartnett was the 2008 recipient of the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award for literature. The Ghost’s Child was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers Best Book Prize for the Southeast Asia and South Pacific Region.

Hartnett, S. (2008). The ghost's child. Cambridge, MA: Candlewick Press.

International Awards for Children's Literature

2009-11-17T00:10:00.000-08:00

Just as the U.S. has the Newbery and Caldecott, other countries have their own awards to recognize outstanding writers and illustrators of children's literature. The following represents just a handful of these awards:

The Astrid Lingen Memorial Award is given to outstanding writers, illustrators, narrators, and promoters of children’s literature from all nations. It is awarded by the Swedish Arts Council.
The Hans Christian Andersen Award is presented every other year to authors and illustrators of children’s books in recognition of a body of work. It is awarded by the International Board on Books for Young People.
The Carnegie Medal for Writing is awarded annually for an outstanding book published in the United Kingdom. It is awarded by Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals (CILIP).
The Kate Greenaway Medal is awarded annually to a children’s book illustrator in the United Kingdom. It is awarded by Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals (CILIP).
The Nestle Children’s Book Prize, also referred to as the Nestle Smarties Book Prize, was an award given to an outstanding children’s book author in the United Kingdom. The prize was discontinued in 2008.
The Governor General’s Literary Award for Children’s Literature and Illustration is presented annually for the best writing and the best illustration in a book written by a Canadian citizen. It is awarded by the Canada Council for the Arts.
The CLA Book of the Year for Children is an award presented annually to the author of the best children’s book published in Canada. It is awarded by the Canadian Library Associaion.
The Australian Children’s Book of the Year Award is awarded annually for the best book written by an Australian citizen or resident. It is awarded by the Children’s Book Council of Australia.

Brown, D. K. (n.d.). Children's book awards. In Children's literature web guide. Retrieved from: http://www.ucalgary.ca/~dKbrown/awards.html

Cupid: A Tale of Love and Desire

2009-11-16T23:49:00.000-08:00

Cupid: A Tale of Love and Desire

Author: Julius Lester

I loved this book. Seriously, loved it! With the exception of The Tale of Despereaux, I loved it more than any other work I’ve read this semester. I would even go so far as to say that it may have tied with Despereaux because all of the things that I loved about Despereaux can be found in this book as well: tongue-in-cheek narration, spot-on little truths about life, and main characters who are likable, yet flawed. It’s all there, plus, it draws on Greek and Roman mythology, which is a passion of mine from way, way back. Loved it, loved it, LOVED IT! I will read it again; in fact, I will most likely purchase it.

All of the Kingdom-By-The-Great-Blue-Sea is in love with Psyche, the most beautiful woman ever to tread the face of the earth. The people are in fact so awed by her beauty that whenever they see her, they are rendered incapable of doing anything but staring in wonder that such a heavenly creature exists outside of Mount Olympus. This is very bad for the economy of the Kingdom-By-The-Great-Blue-Sea, and it turns out not to be too great for Psyche either when her beauty arouses the ire of Venus, the Goddess of Love. Venus sends her son, Cupid, to smite Psyche, but as soon as Cupid lays eyes on the girl, he is smitten with love for her. He successfully plots to marry Psyche and for a time is successful in preventing her from finding out his identity or even seeing his face. Enter two evil sisters. Jealous of their younger sister’s wealth and happiness, the duo convince Psyche that she must see her husband’s face. Psyche falls for their manipulations—I told you she was flawed—and loses Cupid in the process. He goes back to his mother’s house to sulk—he’s flawed, too. Meanwhile, Psyche is left alone to face the wrath of an angry love goddess, and she goes on a heroine’s quest, all very Greek/Roman myth-style, on which she succeeds in several tasks before almost fatally failing in the last—again, still flawed. But Cupid swoops in at the last moment to save her, Venus gets over her snit, and everyone lives happily ever after. Truly ever after; gods are immortal.

Lester’s style was riveting. It was more like a conversation than a narration. It was also self-deprecating in a humorous manner that I find utterly addictive. My favorite example follows:

“A long time ago, between marriages number one and number two—or maybe it was during marriage number four. Well, whenever it was—I had a girlfriend who was glamourlicious. Every man who saw us together envied me. (I don’t think women envied her for being with me, but that’s neither here nor there.) For about a month, I enjoyed thinking about all the men who wished they were me. But after that, I was hoping one of them would come and take my place.” (94)

If you’re thinking that passage skews a little on the mature side, I’m right there with you. Quite a bit of what Lester writes in this novel seems not exactly inappropriate, but certainly beyond the depth of its intended readers. There is talk of lovemaking, for instance, that isn’t physically descriptive, but more emotionally descriptive. The following is a prime example:

“The making of love is not simple. To make love, we touch the body of another but we grasp that which cannot be seen—the strands of desire, fear, anxiety, pleasure, and beauty—and with that person, we braid these emotions so that two become one and the boundary dissolves between where you end and the other begins, and you and the other become a single being.” (90)

So poignant! So insightful! So emotionally advanced…This doesn’t necessarily make the work inappropriate, just a bit over the head of the target audience, which is children ages 12 and up. The experience is similar to watching an animated film like Shrek with a child: you know that as an adult, you are watching it on a different level--that much of what has you rolling on the floor is lost on the child--but there is still plenty that they can enjoy.

Lester, J. (2007). Cupid: A tale of love and desire. Orlando, FL: Harcourt.

Other works by Julis Lester:

The Folksinger's Guide to the 12-String Guitar as Played by Leadbelly, co-author with Pete Seeger, 1965
Look Out, Whitey! Black Power's Gon' Get Your Mama, 1968
To Be A Slave, 1968
Search for the New Land, 1969
Revolutionary Notes, 1969
Black Folktales, 1969
The Seventh Son: The Thought and Writings of W.E.B. DuBois, 1971
Two Love Stories, 1972
Long Journey Home, 1972
The Knee-High Man and Other Tales, Illustrations by Ralph Pinto, 1972
Who I Am, 1974
All Is Well, 1976
This Strange New Feeling, 1982
Do Lord Remember Me, 1984
The Tales of Uncle Remus: The Adventures of Brer Rabbit. Illustrations by Jerry Pinkney, 1987
Lovesong: Becoming A Jew, 1988
More Tales of Uncle Remus: Further Adventures of Brer Rabbit, His Friends, Enemies, and Others. Illustrations by Jerry Pinkney, 1988
How Many Spots Does A Leopard Have and other Tales. Illustrations by David Shannon, 1989
Further Tales of Uncle Remus: The Misadventures of Brer Rabbit, Brer Fox, Brer Wolf, the Doodang, and Other Creatures. Illustrations by Jerry Pinkney, 1990
Falling Pieces of the Broken Sky, 1990
The Last Tales of Uncle Remus. Illustrations by Jerry Pinkney, 1994
The Man Who Knew Too Much. Illustrations by Leonard Jenkins, 1994
And All Our Wounds Forgiven, 1994
John Henry. Illustrations by Jerry Pinkney, 1994
Othello: A Novel, 1995
Sam and the Tigers, illustrated by Jerry Pinkney, 1996
From Slaveship to Freedom Road, Paintings by Rod Brown, 1998
Black Cowboy, Wild Horses: A True Story. Illustrations by Jerry Pinkney, 1998
Uncle Remus: The Complete Tales, with a new introduction. Illustrations by Jerry Pinkney, 1999
What A Truly Cool World, Illustrated by Joe Cepeda, 1999
When the Beginning Began, illustrated by Emily Lisker, 1999
Albidaro and the Mischievous Dream, Illustrated by Jerry Pinkney, 2000
Pharaoh's Daughter: A Novel, 2000
The Blues Singers: Ten Who Rocked the World. Illustrations by Lisa Cohen, 2001
When Dad Killed Mom, 2001
Ackamarackus: Julius Lester's Sumptuously Silly Fantastically Funny Fables, Illustrated Emilie Chollat, 2001
Why Heaven is Far Away, Illustrations by Joe Cependa, 2002
Shining, Illustrations by John Clapp, 2003
The Autobiography of God, 2004
Let's Talk About Race. Illustrated by Karen Barbour, 2005
On Writing for Children and Other People, 2005
Day of Tears: A Novel in Dialogue, 2005
The Old African. Illustrated by Jerry Pinkney, 2005
Time's Memory, 2006
Cupid: A Novel, 2007
The Hungry Ghosts, 2009

Source: http://members.authorsguild.net/juliuslester/works.htm

Ribbons and The Amah

2009-10-28T18:59:00.000-07:00

Ribbons and The Amah

Author: Laurence Yep

Ribbons is the story of Robin, a Chinese-American girl who loves dancing ballet more than anything. When her family decides to make the enormous financial commitment required to bring her grandmother over from Hong Kong, Robin must sacrifice her ballet lessons. She continues to practice rigorously on the cement floor of her family's garage, in pointe shoes that are too small, damaging her feet in the process. This turns out to be a bonding experience for Robin and her grandmother, who had her feet bound as a child in China, destroying them forever, and now must walk with the aid of canes. When Robin is faced with the choice of having a surgery that may prevent her from ever dancing again or continuing to dance while suffering pain all the while, the grandmother supports her decision to live with the pain.

The Amah, written a few years later, centers around a minor character from Ribbons, Robin's friend Amy. Amy's widowed mother takes a job as an amah to the daughter of a wealthy family. An amah is a traditional Chinese governess and is a position that requires a much greater commitment than what Americans are used to in the similar position of nanny. Amy is distressed by the depth of her mother's devotion to "Miss Stephanie", her young charge, as well as by the increased responsibility she must take on in caring for her younger brothers and sisters. A ballerina like Robin, she fears the toll this responsibility will take on her dancing aspirations as the number of missed practices begins to grow. Eventually, she befriends Stephanie and realizes that though she is wealthy, the other girl's life is far from perfect. As Amy realizes that Stephanie is in desperate need of a mother's love, the bond between them grows and Amy finds herself encouraging her mother to nurture the other girl.

What struck me most about these books was the passion the main characters exhibited for the thing they love, which is ballet, and the utter lack of empathy for that passion that was exhibited by the adult women who surrounded them. I get that China has a very different cultural outlook on youth and obedience to one's elders, and especially on femininity, but the way in which the parents of these girls so callously disregarded the one thing that they love so much is shocking and disturbing. After all, even if their mothers are Chinese, they are Americanized Chinese. Robin's mother especially was unrelenting in forcing Robin to make this sacrifice, and then couldn't understand why the child was so unhappy and bitter about the grandmother's intrusion in her life. And this woman was educated--a lawyer--and yet this female-equals-unworthy cultural attitude persisted. I ached for Robin for most of that novel, for her pain and her frustration and the fact that she was so cut off from the one thing that could give her release and escape. When her mother took away her dancing shoes at the grandmother's insistence, I hated them both with a passion. And when her weak father failed yet again to stand up for her, I hated him even more.

I found it very easy to care about the main characters and yet hate the peripheral ones. Again, none of the parents in either of these novels was likeable. The mothers were stony, cold, and unrelenting, and the only father prominently featured was weak. Other adult male characters were pompous and selfish, and little brothers were out-and-out monsters. Same-aged friends who were Chinese were sympathetic, whereas American friends were depicted as shallow and pretty slow on the uptake. Robin's friends, for instance, kept hounding her about when she was coming back to ballet class. It never occurred to any of them that it wasn't her choice, that there had to be something going on that she couldn't tell them for some reason, and that their constant reminders of what she was missing were not positively contributing to her dilemma. And though she later became loving and sympathetic, Robin's grandmother was a dragon when she first appeared.

Laurence Yep is a Chinese-American writer who, like the main characters in both Ribbons and The Amah, grew up in San Francisco, Calif. He is known for writing realistic fiction, science fiction, and fantasy. His main characters are often portrayed as outsiders. Other books by this author include:

Dragonwings

Child of the Owl

Sea Glass

Dragon of the Lost Sea

Liar, Liar

Monster Makers, Inc.

The Rainbow People

The Star Fisher

The Lost Garden

Dragon's Gate

The Junior Thunder Lord

Later, Gator

Thief of Hearts

Tree of Dreams: Ten Tales from the Garden of Night

References

Meet the author: Laurence Yep. (n.d.). Houghton Mifflin Reading. Retrieved October 28, 2009, from Houghton Mifflin Co. website: http://www.eduplace.com/kids/hmr/mtai/yep.html

Yep, L. (1997). Ribbons. New York, NY: Putnam & Grosset Group. (Original work published 1992)

Yep, L. (1999). The amah. New York, NY: G.P. Putnam's Sons.

The First Part Last

2009-10-26T17:43:00.000-07:00

The First Part Last

Author: Angela Johnson

Coretta Scott King Award, 2004

One thing about this book is certain…it will stay with the reader. It is poignant and at times heartbreaking. There are two narrative time-lines in the story. The first is the present, when sixteen-year-old Bobby is raising his infant daughter, Feather, on his own. The second begins approximately nine months prior, when Bobby learns on his sixteenth birthday that he is going to be a father, and moves forward from there toward Feather’s birth. The two narratives alternate chapters and are titled “Then” and “Now.” What is interesting about this alternating technique is that, although the two time-frames are set close together, take place in the same physical locations and among the same characters, and are told by the same narrator, the entire world is a different place. Bobby still feels like the same person, yet he knows he isn’t; everything may look the same, yet for Bobby, nothing will ever be the same again. At times he points out how very old he feels now that he is responsible for the life of another human being, while at others he tells the reader that he still feels like a baby himself.

Any teenage reader should be able to relate to Bobby in the “Then” time-line. He and Nia are so young and so full of the kind of love that only teenagers can experience. At the same time, they are also mature and realistic about the future; even though they do obviously love each other a great deal, they have separate hopes and plans and do not have any illusions about being together for the long term. They seem to just be having fun and enjoying their time together for what it is—a very sweet, loving high school relationship. When Nia becomes pregnant, they are scared and frustrated and confused, just like any teenage couple would be, yet they remain together through the ordeal of telling their parents and facing their friends and visiting the obstetrician and finally, consulting with a social worker about putting the baby up for adoption. This is the choice they ultimately make, which is supported by their parents as the right and mature thing to do. The reader gets the sense that giving up the baby isn’t necessarily what they want, especially Bobby, but it is easy to see why they make that choice when they are faced with an uncertain future as teenage parents and everyone is telling them it’s the best thing for everyone. Then everyone’s world is shattered when Nia suffers an attack of eclampsia, which leaves her in a permanent vegetative state. At this point, Bobby surprises everyone by deciding to keep and raise the baby himself.

The “Now” time-line deals with the aftermath of that decision. The reader sees Bobby struggling to find his way as a teenage father, dealing with mundane things like midnight feedings and diaper changes, as well as terrifying moments like Feather running a high fever. Bobby’s love for his daughter is deep and touching and makes the reader want to cry at times, but he is not a candidate for sainthood yet. There are moments when he doesn’t want the responsibility, when he longs to hand Feather over to the nearest grown-up and hang out with his friends at arcades and pizza places. There is one disappointing moment when he leaves the baby in the care of a neighbor with every intention of going to school, but ends up instead going to spray graffiti on a building, an act for which he gets arrested. Still, the reader can easily empathize with Bobby; he is still ultimately a child, and he will make childish mistakes. The end of the book sees Bobby leaving New York, the city he loves with a passion, to move to an Ohio suburb with Feather so the two of them can make a new start. The reader knows that Bobby and Feather will be OK as a family—there is so much love and Bobby is so earnest about being a good father—but also senses that there is a struggle ahead. That’s as it should be. The author treats the subject of teen parenthood sensitively but realistically, and teen parents have a very difficult road to travel.

The First Part Last embraces diversity in two ways. First, the narrator and all the main characters in the novel are African-American. Second, the book deals with the subject of non-traditional families, as Bobby is a teenage parent and a single father. The latter is what makes this a most unique read. In literature, as in life, it is not at all uncommon to encounter single teenage mothers, but a single teenage father is a rare animal indeed.

The First Part Last was the 2004 recipient of the Coretta Scott King Award. To win a King Award, a book must be written by an African-American author; be published in the United States; be written for an audience of children in either preschool through fourth grade, fifth grade through eighth grade, or ninth grade through twelfth grade; be an original work; and adhere to recognized standards of literary excellence such as a well-developed plot, character growth, and age-appropriate writing style. Further, books should ‘portray some aspect of the African American experience, past, present, or future’, as well as ‘promote understanding and appreciation of the culture of all peoples and their contribution to the realization of the American dream.’ (ALA)

The book’s author, Angela Johnson, also received Coretta Scott King Awards for the novels, Heaven and Toning the Sweep. Two other works, When I Am Old With You and The Other Side: Shorter Poems, were named Coretta Scott King Honor Books.

References

The Coretta Scott King Book Awards for authors and illustrators. (n.d.). American Library Association. Retrieved October 26, 2009, from American Library Association website: http://www.ala.org/ala/mgrps/rts/emiert/ cskbookawards/selection.cfm

Johnson, A. (2003). The first part last. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press.

Rules

2009-10-20T01:25:00.000-07:00

Rules

Author: Cynthia Lord

Diversity

The author of Rules, Cynthia Lord, is the mother of an autistic child. This life-experience is apparent in both the authenticity with which the condition is portrayed and the impact it has on the family who live with it. This chapter book displays equal parts humor, compassion, empathy, and realism in dealing with a character who suffers from autism. It embraces diversity in its depiction of David, the character with autism, as well as in its depiction of Jason, a wheelchair bound teen who uses picture cards to speak.

Catherine is a 12-year-old girl who attempts to help her autistic younger brother, David, cope with the outside world by writing rules for him in a notebook. Some of the rules are very basic, such as, “Say ‘excuse me’ when you burp,” “Don’t stand in front of the TV while other people are watching it,” and “Flush!” Others are humorous but nonetheless important, such as “Keep your pants on! Unless Mom, Dad, or the doctor tells you to take them off.” Still others are more subjective, hidden rules for functioning in society, such as “Sometimes people laugh when they like you. But sometimes they laugh to hurt you.”

For a 12-year-old, Catherine is a very insightful and complex character. She is a loving sister, and she understands her brother’s condition very well. Insights into autism abound, such as when Catherine tells the reader, “David hears everything extra loud…Milk being poured, shopping carts clanging at the grocery store, my pet guinea pig squealing, the school bus braking as it pulls up to the corner, and the whoosh of the bus door opening—all those things and a million more make David cover his ears, fast as lightning.” (31)

Both in spite of and because of David’s constant companionship, Catherine is lonely. She desperately wants a friend, someone her own age with whom she can hang out and just be normal and carefree. And she would really like it if that friend wasn’t aware of David’s condition. Catherine is a bit ashamed of having a thing that sets her apart from her peers. It is not shame about her brother’s condition, per se, but more the intense desire all pre-teens feel to fit in. And to top it all off, she feels guilty for having this shame. At one point, she upsets David, and immediately after, thinks “And I brace myself for the ka-boom, sure to follow. The full guilt avalanche, thundering down the mountainside, sweeping away houses, knocking me flat.” (107)

Playing caretaker to David seems to be wearing thin on the entire family. The father seems to be absent a great deal, working overtime so the mother can stay home and care for David. But even when he is there, he seems withdrawn. He is often late when he has promised to take David somewhere, even though he knows this elicits a tantrum from David, and he fails to take care of minor details like buying David a new cassette player when his old one is broken. Catherine makes the statement that he seems more interested in his tomato plants at times than in her or David. At times we see the parents bickering over little issues relating to David’s care, such as when the mother rushes outside to comfort David when he’s frightened by a bee and the father chastises her for coddling him. Though there is no real neglect present, Catherine feels a lack of attention from both of her parents. This is obvious from the way she keeps asking her mother to go to the park or go shopping with her while David is in occupational therapy. Her mother keeps refusing, thinking she might be needed if David decides to throw a fit. She later asks her father if they can spend some time together, just the two of them, and he demurs, saying he is very tired from work and from David, and just needs to rest.

Rules underscores the importance of parents with special needs children finding the time to see to the emotional needs of their other, “normal” children. Often, they are so focused on the needs of the child whom they perceive as needing them more that they forget that their other children, no matter how mature, self-sufficient, well-adjusted, and fully functional they may be, need parenting as well. Catherine vocalizes this when she finally tells her father, “I have to matter, too…As much as work and your garden and even as much as David. I need you, too.” (176)

Rules was designated a Newbery Honor Book in 2007.

Lord, C. (2006). Rules. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press.

I Love Saturdays y Domingos

2009-10-20T01:23:00.000-07:00

I Love Saturdays y Domingos

Author: Alma Flor Ada

Illustrator: Elivia Savadier

Diversity

I Love Saturdays y Domingos is a bright, colorful picture book drawn in a fun, caricaturistic style. The book tells from a child’s point of view the experience of spending Saturdays with her Caucasian grandparents and Sundays, or Domingos, with her Latino ones.

The layout of this book provides for easy comparison/contrast between the child’s experiences in both cultures, and the use of Spanish language opposite each word or phrase’s English counterpart actually lends itself to teaching a child rudimentary Spanish. For example, the following appears on facing pages:

On Saturdays I go visit Grandpa I spend los domingos with Abuelito

and Grandma. y Abuelita.

In addition to its use of Spanish language and its descriptions of some of the different activities the little girl does with each set of grandparents, this book celebrates diversity in background. Each of the four grandparents has a turn describing for the little girl where their family came from and how they grew up. The Latino grandfather grew up on a ranch in Mexico, the Latina grandmother came from a Native American family, the Caucasian grandfather’s family emigrated from Europe to New York City, and the Caucasian grandmother was descended from pioneers who made the journey to California in a covered wagon. The little girl has learned to embrace each aspect of her heritage and be proud of her ancestors.

No question about it, this picture book would be wonderful for children with the same dual heritages as the narrator. However, cultural heritage aside, I would buy this book for any child as a means of introducing then to Spanish. A child (or adult, for that matter) could use this book to learn greetings, counting, colors, and animal names. I would also recommend this as a means of teaching comparison/contrast in writing to very young children.

Ada, A. F. (2002). I love Saturdays y domingos. New York, NY: Atheneum Books for Young Readers.

Bringing Asha Home

2009-10-20T01:21:00.000-07:00

Bringing Asha Home

Author: Uma Krishnaswami

Illustrator: Jamel Akib

Diversity

Bringing Asha Home, a picture book for young readers, tells the story of Arun, an eight-year-old American boy who is anxiously awaiting the arrival of his adopted baby sister, Asha. The family must wait for a year while the adoption is processed. Finally, Arun’s father is able to travel to India and bring Asha home.

This story celebrates diversity in many ways. First, it deals with the issue of international adoption, how difficult and rewarding it can be to build a family in this manner. Second, it touches on the topic of families of blended race. Arun’s father is a native of India, while Arun’s mother is Caucasian; little Arun, of course, is a mixture of both. Third, the story teaches a bit about Hindu culture when Arun describes the feast of Rakhi to his friend, telling him all about the tradition of sisters placing a special bracelet on the wrists of their brothers to symbolize the bond between them.

Themes central to this story are hope, patience, and unconditional love. Arun’s mother tells him that the name Asha means “hope,” and Arun is full of hope for the life he will soon share with his little sister. This hope is epitomized by the paper airplanes his builds and attempts to sail from one part of the house to the other, imagining that the planes are flying his father to India to fetch his little sister or flying Asha home from India to her new life in America.

Patience is present throughout the story; Arun and his parents must be very patient while they wait for Asha to join their family. For a child of eight, a year is an eternity, and at times, Arun’s patience wears thin. He declares that he is tired of waiting and asks his parents if the adoption people know that there is a family waiting for Asha. In the end, when Arun sees his father carrying Asha from the plane and realizes that Asha has carried the special rakhi bracelet for him all the way from India, it is clear that for Arun, having a new baby sister is well worth the wait.

A third theme present in the story is unconditional love. Arun’s family loves Asha already, though they have yet to meet her. They receive photographs from the adoption agency and learn all about her, and they already consider her a member of their family. At one point in the story, the family hosts a birthday party for Asha, even though she cannot be present. Family, friends, and neighbors all attend and bring gifts.

This is story manages to impart the loving, beautiful aspects of building a family through international adoption while still making it clear that the process can be long and complicated. I would give this story the highest recommendation, especially for families who already have children and are considering international adoption. This book would be a wonderful way to prepare a child for both the tedious wait they may experience and the joy that will come with the arrival of their new sibling. I would also recommend this book for its lovely watercolor drawings, which have murky, dreamlike quality that reminded me of how memories might appear in the mind of a young child.

Krishnaswami, U. (2006). Bringing Asha home. New York, NY: Lee & Low Books.

The Invention of Hugo Cabret

2009-10-14T20:19:00.000-07:00

The Invention of Hugo Cabret

Author: Brian Selznick

Caldecott Award Winner, 2008

Hugo Cabret is an orphan who is both a clock-keeper in a Paris train station and a thief. He is obsessed with rebuilding an automaton that was discovered by his father, also a clock-maker, while he was working in a museum. After his father’s death, Hugo is intent on repairing the automaton as a sort of penance—he feels responsible for his father’s death. When a toymaker catches Hugo stealing a windup toy for parts for his automaton, the man takes Hugo’s notebook, which contains his fathers notes and sketches for the automaton, and threatens to burn it. The old man’s ward offers to help Hugo get the notebook back and the two become friends. Eventually, a mystery unfolds involving the automaton, the toymaker, and 1930’s era French movies. It turns out in the end that the toymaker was a magician and filmmaker in the 1930’s and was also the designer of the automaton. Hugo ends up coming to live with the toymaker and becoming his apprentice. The toymaker also receives acclaim for the films he once made: he turns out to real-life French film pioneer Georges Melies.

This book is over 500 pages long, and less than 200 of those pages contain text (the first appearance of text is on page 46). The rest of the book is made up of highly detailed illustrations. The illustrations are done in pencil and are very deep and shady. They are evocative of a noir movie, with extensive use of shadow and light. In fact, the story unfolds frame by frame, very much like a movie. The drawings of people are almost photographic, they are so realistic. The eyes are especially lifelike—they are soulful and draw the reader in. Besides drawings, the book also incorporates still photos of French films from the era.

In regards to this book winning the Caldecott Award, I can only say this: I can’t imagine The Invention of Hugo Cabret not winning an award for illustration. It is truly a work of artistry. That being said, I fail to see where a child would appreciate this book. The artistry would be lost on a young child, and though engaging, the mystery aspects of the story would not be enough to hold their interest. However, the audience for the Caldecott Award is children up to age 14; it is possible that children at the older end of the target audience would be capable of the attention-to-detail required to truly appreciate the artistry of this work. I would think those interested in careers as artists or illustrators would especially find book intriguing.

Selznick, B. (2007). The invention of Hugo Cabret. New York, NY: Scholastic.

Kitten's First Full Moon

2009-10-14T20:16:00.000-07:00

Kitten’s First Full Moon

Author: Kevin Henkes

Caldecott Award Winner, 2005

Of the five Caldecott Award winning children’s books I read, this is the one I think kids would most enjoy. It is a short, sweet, simple story of a cute white kitten who thinks the moon is a bowl of milk and is determined to drink it, but finds the “little bowl of milk in the sky” unobtainable. There are several really adorable drawings of Kitten tumbling, licking her paw, and clinging to a tree. There’s a real “awww” moment when Kitten falls into a pond and gets all wet. In the end, Kitten comes home to find a bowl of milk waiting for her on the porch.

The illustrations look like they were drawn and shaded in pencil. My favorite drawing is one of several fireflies in which there is a bubble of light around each one—I found this use of shadow and light is engaging. And there is a subtle sense of motion in the illustrations that is very evocative of a playful kitten. One page depicts Kitten springing, saying, “So she pulled herself together and wiggled her bottom and sprang from the top step of the porch.” Then the drawing on facing page shows her jumping landing on her bottom with the text “But Kitten only tumbled—bumping her nose and banging her ear and pinching her tail. Poor Kitten!” I can see moms reading this to their kids at night, asking “What’s that silly kitten doing now?”

A plus is that the photos are large and uncomplicated, so it would work well as a read-aloud book for teachers because kids would be able to easily see the illustrations if the book was held up for them.

Henkes, K. (2004). Kitten's first full moon. New York, NY: Greenwillow.

The Man Who Walked Between The Towers

2009-10-14T20:14:00.000-07:00

The Man Who Walked Between The Towers

Mordicai Gerstein

Caldecott Award Winner, 2004

The book tells the story of Philipe Petit, the man who performed on a tightrope between the two towers of the World Trade Center on August 7, 1974. This subject matter is an intriguing choice, considering that the towers no longer exist and that whenever they are mentioned nowadays, it is in conjunction with the September 11 attack. It is refreshing to hear a happy story associated with the towers. All that is said about the demise of the towers is the statement “Now the towers are gone” on the second to last page.

The story of how Petit pulled off this famous stunt is fascinating. It describes how he and some friends disguised themselves as construction workers and smuggled their gear up to the top of one tower, while more friends waited at the top of the other tower with a bow and arrow to shoot the wire over to him. One particularly riveting bit of the story is when the wire shot from the arrow falls short of its target, and Petit has to climb down to a ledge to retrieve it. There is even an element of humor: when the police rush to the top of the towers to arrest Petit, they’re unable to do so until he willingly exits the tightrope and allows himself to be arrested. That isn’t something you would consider initially, but really, who’s going to be capable of knabbing someone on a tightrope?

The illustrations reminded me of pictures a bored student might sketch during a high school class with a ballpoint pen on a piece of lined notebook paper. There is a gorgeous drawing of Notre Dame Cathedral on one page that is very detailed, yet still has that sketched-on-notebook paper feel to it. I found it very intriguing. The colors are mostly subtle and muted. The one element of color that stood out for me was the deep turquoise used to depict the waters of New York harbor from high above at night. The most unique features of this book are is the two foldouts of Philipe walking between the towers. One is a horizontal image showing the distance he walked; the other is a vertical image showing Petit walking the tightrope from the perspective of onlookers below.

The Man Who Walked Between The Towers is beautifully illustrated, well-executed storytelling. It is easy to see why it was a recipient of the Caldecott Award.

Gerstein, M. (2003). The man who walked between the towers. Brookfield, CT: Roaring Brook.

The House in the Night

2009-10-14T20:09:00.000-07:00

The House in the Night

Author: Susan Marie Swanson

Illustrator: Beth Krommes

Caldecott Award Winner, 2009

This poetic listing of comforting items in a dark house is reminiscent of Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon. The author says in her author’s note that she has always had a love of “cumulative pattern” poems, giving the example of a poem she loved as a child which began “This is the key of the kingdom:/In that kingdom is a city,/In that city is a town,/In that town there is a street…”

The illustrations consist of black and white sketches that incorporate yellow elements for accent. The drawings are full of texture, and most elements of the drawings have rounded edges, which creates an interesting sense of depth perception. There is a definite dreamy quality to the drawings, especially as the reader moves toward the middle of the book. There are also more elements of yellow incorporated as the book progresses, which almost creates a sense of crescendo.

There is an abstract quality to this work that is fascinating to an adult reader, and it is easy to see why it was chosen for an award, but I think the drawings would fail to capture the interest of a child. They’re almost too detailed and too artsy. And there’s no story to accompany the illustrations, just a listing of mundane items in a dark house.

Swanson, S. M., & Krommes, B. (2008). The house in the night. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin.

The Hello, Goodbye Window

2009-10-14T20:06:00.000-07:00

The Hello, Goodbye Window

Author: Norton Juster

Illustrator: Chris Raschka

Caldecott Award Winner, 2006

This book is about a child’s love of visiting her “Nanna” and “Poppy.” The narrator describes all the things she loves about visiting her grandparents, both activities and features of the house, especially her beloved “Hello, Goodbye Window”, through which she first sees her grandparents when she arrives and waves goodbye to them when she departs.

The illustrations are very much like a child’s drawings. They look like fingerpaintings with random details drawn in with crayon. The colors are very bright, with lots of greens and blues. The objects in the drawings are not very clear—more like blotches of color done in such a way as to suggest shapes—but then maybe one or two objects will have more definition. In one illustration, there’s an electrical outlet drawn in detail on the wall, while everything else is murky and vague. I really loved this, because that is exactly the kind of thing a child would do in a drawing, zeroing in on one seemingly minor detail while leaving the rest unfocused.

This story made me think of my early childhood, when I stayed with my grandmother and grandfather each day while my parents taught school. I remembered my dad holding me up when we arrived at the door, seeing my grandmother peep out through the window, then smile and open the door, every time saying “C’min! C’min!” I remembered my Granddaddy working in his garden and carving duck calls and decoys out of wood. One phrase in particular that struck me: “There are shelves full of glass jars with everything in them, a step stool so I can wash my hands, and all kinds of pictures from the olden days.” This could be a description of my grandmother’s house. It brought such vivid memories of the jars full of vegetables and jellies my grandmother had canned herself, the stepstool I would stand on when I helped make cookies, the sticker on the bathroom mirror of a cartoon monkey hanging by his tail over a stream that said ‘Wash your hands!’, and all the years and years of school pictures of grandchildren hanging on the wall in the dining room.

The nostalgia evoked by this story made it very enjoyable to me. And the drawings were certainly appropriate to the tone—the book looks and sounds like something a child drew and wrote herself. It was very sweet. I’m thinking that fact that the tone and illustrations matched so well had something to do with the book winning the award. However, having looked at other examples of Caldecott Award winners, it just doesn’t seem in the same league artistically. Still, I would recommend it as a pleasant story to read aloud to children, especially those who have had relatable experiences visiting their grandparents.

Juster, N., & Raschka, C. (2005). The hello, goodbye window. New York, NY: Hyperion.

Caldecott Award

2009-10-14T20:03:00.000-07:00

The next five books I will review for my children’s literature class are recent winners of the Caldecott Award.

The Caldecott Award is named for 19^th century English illustrator Randolph Caldecott. The primary consideration for a Caldecott Award is illustration; Caldecott winners must be primarily picture books. This is the main difference between Caldecott Award winners and Newbery Award winners, which are judged on the quality of textual content.

Other criteria for the Caldecott are largely the same as for the Newbery:

The work should be written for a target audience of children up to age 14.
The work must be original.
The author must be an American citizen or resident.
The work must be written in the English language.
The work must be published in the United States.
The work must be published in the previous year.

Source:

Terms and criteria for John Newbery medal. Association for Library Service to Children. Retrieved from American Library Association website: http://www.ala.org/ala/mgrps/divs/alsc/awardsgrants/bookmedia/caldecottmedal/caldecottterms/caldecottterms.cfm

The Higher Power of Lucky

2009-10-01T19:02:00.000-07:00

Book 2
The Higher Power of Lucky
Author: Susan Patron
Illustrator: Matt Phelan
Newbery Award Winner 2007

There are many things to love about Susan Patron’s The Higher Power of Lucky: likeable, relatable characters; a charmingly dysfunctional setting; relatable themes; and even a happy ending. Unfortunately, many gatekeepers with the power to decide which books children get to read chose, based on the inclusion of the word "scrotum", to omit this book from their library collections. That is why, in celebration of Banned Books Week, I chose to read and review The Higher Power of Lucky.

Characters:
The main character is Lucky Trimble, a 10-year-old girl living in a tiny California town. Lucky’s mother died two years previously when she stepped on a downed power line after a rainstorm. As Lucky’s father had no interest in raising her, he gave guardianship of Lucky to his first wife, Brigitte, who gave up her life in France to come to California and look after Lucky. Lucky lives in constant fear that Brigitte will tire of her and return to California, abandoning Lucky to an orphanage. Besides Lucky and Brigitte, other characters of note are Lucky’s best friend Lincoln, who is obsessed with tying knots, and Miles, a five-year-old who lives with his grandmother and is obsessed with cookies, Lucky’s stories of Chesterfield the burro, and the book “Are You My Mother?” There are a few other townies who are mentioned and briefly met, such as Short Sammy, the Captain, Dot the beautician, and Miles’s grandmother.

Setting:
It has to be said: Lucky lives in just about the white-trashiest “town” imaginable: Hard Pan, Calif., population 43. In fact, town is actually a very generous description—it’s really more a trailer encampment. All the residents of Hard Pan live in trailers, all receive food from the government each month, and the social scene seems to consist of various "anonymous" meetings. Worse still, you don’t want to put your hand in the clothes dryer without looking for snakes first. But you get the impression that Lucky really loves Hard Pan. At one point, she describes it thus: “Past the town the desert rolled out and out like a pale green ocean, as far as you could see, to the Coso foothills, then behind them, the huge black Coso Range like the broken edge of a giant cup that held tiny Hard Pan at its bottom. The sky arched up forever, nothing but a sheet of blue, hiding zillions of stars and plants and galaxies that were up there all the time, even when you couldn’t see them. It was kind of peaceful and so gigantic it made your brain feel rested. It made you feel like you could become anything you wanted, like you were filled up with nothing but hope.” (Patron, 60) It’s really wonderful that, as dysfunctional as the town and its residents are, Lucky loves it and has no desire to leave. Her heart’s desire is that the “Hard Pan, Population 43” sign will never change. I think this has real potential to inspire kids to love where they are, even if it doesn’t fit everyone’s vision of perfect.

Themes:
The main themes touched on in this story are motherlessness and the search for one’s higher power. Motherlessness is a central theme in that three characters, Lucky, Miles, and Brigitte, are separated from and missing their mother. Lucky’s mother, as previously mentioned, died in a tragic accident. Lucky wants Brigitte to be her mother, but fears abandonment. Miles’s mother is in jail for selling drugs, though he does not know this for most of the story. He is being raised by his grandmother, and from mention of him roaming from trailer to trailer unsupervised and always being a bit dirty, the impression is given that her care is adequate at best. Clues that Miles misses his mother are his obsession with the book “Are You My Mother?” and his love of Lucky’s stories about Chesterfield the burro, who Lucky tells him went off to have a child of her own. Even Brigitte misses her mother, who is far away in France and whom she has not seen since she came to care for Lucky. Whenever she talks to her mother on the telephone or receives a care package, Lucky tells us that Brigitte always ends up homesick and in tears. In the end, Lucky gets her mother when Brigitte reveals her plan to adopt Lucky.

The other overriding theme in the story is, as the title indicates, the search for a higher power. Lucky is fascinated by the stories she hears while eavesdropping at various twelve-step recovery group meetings: “She didn’t get why finding it was so hard. The anonymous people often talked about getting control of their lives through their Higher Power. Being ten and a half, Luky felt like she had no control over her life—partly because she wasn’t grown up yet—but that if she found her Higher Power it would guide her in the right direction.” (Patron, 5) Another significant mention: “If she could only find it, Lucky was pretty sure she’d be able to figure out the difference between the things she could change and the things she couldn’t, like in the prayer of the anonymous people. Because sometimes Lucky wanted to change everything, all the bad things that had happened, and sometimes she wanted everything to say the same forever.” (Patron, 8)

It is interesting and I think intriguing that the higher power is never identified as a deity, but rather as more of ‘the thing that keeps one going.’ I like that about this book, because that makes it relatable for children from more diverse backgrounds that may not necessarily be Christian-oriented. I also like the non-deity aspect because it does not preach the tired “Pray and put all your faith in God and everything will work out as it should.” It instead subtly puts forth the notion that everyone’s higher power is something different, and therefore everyone must determine what will be their own motivating power.

Personal Favorites:
My absolute favorite part of the book was when Lucky’s friend Lincoln “vandalized” the SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY street sign. It irked Lincoln that the sign was grammatically incorrect, as he tells Lucky: “…people see that sign and they think, ‘Huh. Slow children. Kids aren’t here aren’t too smart.’ Or else they think, ‘Gosh, these Hard Pan kids don’t move too fast. Must be ‘cause of the heat.’” (Patron, 23) This struck a chord with me, because every time my husband and I drive by one of these signs, we do laugh and say “Watch out for the slow kids!” Immature, I know, but we just can’t help it. A newspaper copy editor and an English literature major, we can’t stand bad punctuation (or lack thereof), even in signs. So when Lincoln added the colon to make the sign read SLOW: CHILDREN AT PLAY, I applauded. I wish that kid lived in my town!

My least favorite part was when Lucky cruelly revealed to Miles that his mother was in jail. I knew it was coming when Lucky overheard Miles’s grandmother telling the story at her Smoker’s Anonymous meeting, and I dreaded it. Miles was so sweet and so innocent, roaming around from neighbor to neighbor, soliciting cookies and stories, I just had an inkling from the getgo that something sad was going to happen to him. As it turned out, having it revealed that his mother was incarcerated was much milder than the horrors I had imagined—I was just positive he was going to perish in the dust storm—but I still hated to see the little guy hurt.

Banning:
As to the word that launched a thousand listserv posts: scrotum is a medically correct term. Trust me, all you parents out there, by the time your kid is 10, you WISH he and his friends were saying “scrotum” rather than the plethora of slang alternatives they are utilizing instead. But for the uptight book banning types out there, the word “scrotum” appears on the following pages in the following contexts:

As the patrons of the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting are telling their stories, Lucky observes the following: “Sammy told of the day when he had drunk half a gallon of rum listening to Johnny Cash all morning in his parked ’62 Cadillac, then fallen out of the car when he saw a rattlesnake on the passenger seat biting his dog, Roy, on the scrotum.” (Patron, 1)

Still at the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, Sammy says while telling his story: “He killed that snake even though it bit him in the place where it hurts the worst for a male.” (Patron, 3)

As she walks home from her job sweeping up after the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, Lucky ponders: “The question of Short Sammy’s dog’s scrotum settled into one certain brain crevice as she picked her way among the weedy bushes of the dry wash. Even though Lucky could as Short Sammy almost anything and he wouldn’t mind, she could never ask about the story of Roy, since she had overheard it. If she asked about Roy, then he would know that she’d been eavesdropping at the anonymous twelve-step meetings.” (Patron, 6-7)

Lucky then tries to work out the meaning of the word on her own: “Scrotum sounded to Lucky like something green that comes up when you have the flu and cough too much. It sounded medical and secret, but also important, and Lucky was glad she was a girl and would never have such an aspect as a scrotum to her own body. Deep inside she thought she would be interested in seeing an actual scrotum. But at the same time—and this is where Lucky’s brain was very complicated—she definitely did not want to see one.” (Patron, 7)

On the last page, the subject of scrotums is revisited very briefly when Lucky asks Brigitte what it is, and Brigitte replies: “ It is a little sack of the man or the animal which has in it the sperm to make a baby.” (Patron, 132)

So, there you have it, that’s what all the fuss was about. I honestly see nothing offensive or inappropriate in any of these references, none of them are even remotely sexual in nature. It is just a 10-year-old child fascinated by a new and unfamiliar word, very relatable and unthreatening. I don’t believe reading this word or any ensuing descriptions is going to force any parent into a premature ‘birds-and-bees’ talk, or send any child spiraling down the pit of sexual deviancy. But I’m liberal like that.

I agree whole-heartedly with Montana elementary school librarian Michele Nokleby, whose LM_NET post was quoted in the March 2007 School Library Journal article entitled “Hitting Below the Belt?” Nokleby wrote “There are so many things that are touched on in this little book that deserve attention” and stated that she felt it was an “important” book for her children to read. Some of the issues she cited were abandonment, addiction, and the search for personal strength. (Whelan 2007)

In a 2007 article published in Children’s Bookshelf, author Susan Patron defended her choice of the word to Shannon Maughan: “As far as terms of anatomy go, Patron believes that providing children with materials that give accurate information is far better than leaving them to unscramble ‘half-truths’ and ‘overheard tidbits’ on their own, a position that hopefully many children's book professionals would find difficult to argue against.” (Maughan 2007)

References

Maughan, S. (2007, February 15). Listservs buzzing over Newbery winner. Children's Boookshelf, Publisher's Weekly.

Patron, S. (2006). The higher power of Lucky. New York: Atheneum Books for Young Readers.

Whelan, D. L. (2007, March 1). Hitting below the belt? Because of a single word, some school librarians are nixing this year's Newbery winner. School Library Journal. Retrieved from http://www.schoollibraryjournal.com/article/CA6420402.html

Banned Books Week, Sept. 26-Oct. 3

2009-09-27T16:11:00.000-07:00

Banned Book Week is September 26- October 3, and in celebration, I am treating anyone who happens upon this post to my personal diatribe on the subject. As one of my favorite TV characters, South Park's uptight Counselor Mackey would say, 'Book banning is bad, m'kay?' Nothing is gained by limiting access to materials. Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest; banning material only makes it more attractive to kids. It is much, much better, in my opinion, to teach children values, to discuss with them the difference between fantasy and reality, to make them understand how the images and ideas to which they expose themselves may impact their thinking and leave a lasting impression.

In this regard, I had WONDERFUL parents. They never kept information from me or limited what I read or watched based on their own notions of what was appropriate for me. Well, within reason. They weren't reading Stephen King to me when I was four or buying me porn when I was a teenager or anything twisted like that. But their policy was that they couldn't police me 24-7, and if I wanted to gain access to something badly enough, I was resourceful enough to find a way. All that was ever said on the subject was, 'We taught you right from wrong and you're intelligent enough to know what’s real and what isn’t.' Based on their knowledge of me, my likes and dislikes, and my fears, they would warn sometimes and suggest against certain things, but they would never forbid. They knew that when I hit against something that bothered me, I would self-censor.

It turned out that horror movies were my threshold. At age 8 or so, I was spending the night with my cousin and we watched Jaws. I had nightmares and understandably didn't swim for awhile after that. A little while later, same cousin, this time Cujo. I developed a bit of a fear of dogs for awhile. The next time I went to spend the night with that cousin, my parents said, 'Maybe you should think about it before you watch any scary movies.' Of course I didn't listen. Enter The Exorcist. This time I was really traumatized. So much so that I had to call my parents to come and pick me up that night. They didn't lecture or say ' What were you thinking?' or 'We told you so!' They just let me sleep in their bed until I realized that I wouldn't descend into a madness of demonic possession if I slept by myself. It was around this time that I decided horror movies were a very bad idea for me. The next time I spent the night with my cousin, when it came time to select the movie, I politely but firmly said, 'No scary movies for me!' And thereafter, armed with the knowledge that these movies scared the bejesus out of me, I eschewed them for the rest of my childhood all the way up through my teens. And I made that decision all by myself.

I realize that most parents are not as open-minded as mine when comes to certain content. For moral or religious reasons, or maybe just because they don’t want their kids to be exposed to certain ideas or themes until they are older, they choose to limit their child’s access to related materials. While this wouldn’t be my choice, parenting is full of personal decisions that are none of my business. If this is a parent’s decision, however, I would advise that they acknowledge that it is their personal decision, and that they step up and take responsibility for monitoring what their child reads and watches themselves rather than trying to force their standards on others through banning. Having books banned or hidden under the circulation desk counter to prevent access by children effectively puts the parental responsibility of informational gatekeeping off on others when it is the job of parents to enforce their own standards. It is also an infringement upon the rights of others. What some consider anathema may be unobjectionable by others’ standards, and attempting to limit their access is an infringement on their rights to freedom of information, not to mention the creator of the material’s freedom of expression.

In conclusion, support intellectual freedom, be the gatekeeper for your own children, don’t encourage or sit still for book banning, and read something ‘scandalous’ this week.

The Tale of Despereaux, Part 5

2009-09-22T00:25:00.000-07:00

Book 1

The Tale of Despereaux

Author: Kate DiCamillo

Illustrator: Timothy Basil Ering

Newbery Award Winner 2004

Review:

This book had me at the subhead: “Being the story of a mouse, a princess, some soup, and a spool of thread...” A childhood fan of the George MacDonald children’s novels The Princess and the Goblin and The Princess and Curdie, this description instantly transported me back to the former of these two novels, in which a little princess uses a length of golden thread to guide her back to the castle when she is lost. I chose this story based on that bit of nostalgia, and from the first word, I wasn’t disappointed.

What I appreciated most about this story was Kate DiCamillo’s tongue-in-cheek narration. She speaks directly to her audience, as in the following example: “Reader, you must know that an interesting fate (sometimes involving rats, sometimes not) awaits almost everyone, mouse or man, who does not conform.” (22) This makes the narrative feel very personal, as if she is speaking directly to the reader, telling a story rather than writing it. This seems to be the effect DiCamillo is going for, because at the very end of the story, she tells the reader “I would like it very much if you thought of me as a mouse telling you a story, this story, with the whole of my heart, whispering it in your ear in order to save myself from the darkness, and to save you from darkness, too.” (242)

I also truly enjoyed the fact that DiCamillo doesn’t shy away from using sophisticated vocabulary, such as perfidy, egregious, and empathy. At times she suggests to her readers that if they do not know the meaning of a word, they should look it up in a dictionary. At others, she explains the word to them in terms that her readers will be able to understand.

Another thing I love about this author is that she does not talk down to her readers because of their age. One of my favorite examples of this is the following excerpt: “The story is not a pretty one. There is violence in it. And cruelty. But stories that are not pretty have a certain value, too, I suppose. Everything, as you well know (having lived in this world long enough to have figured out a thing or two yourself) cannot always be sweetness and light.” (167) I think children can appreciate this bluntness and take comfort in the idea that we can be happy, but that it may not take the form of the happily ever after of a storybook.

In this story, for instance, Roscuro gets the light he has always desired. He is allowed out of the dungeon and into the light of the castle; however, he never feels at home in the light any more than he felt at home in the dark of the dungeon. Miggery Sow doesn’t get to be princess. Her happy ending is that her father, now remorseful for his earlier actions, is given his freedom and spends the rest of his life trying to make up for his wrongdoing by treating her like a princess. Despereaux doesn’t get to marry his love; instead, he and the princess remain good friends. And the reader is told, in a kind way, that happily ever after may take a different shape than what is seen in traditional fairy tales.

Reference:

DiCamillo, K. (2003). The tale of Despereaux. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press.

The Tale of Despereaux, Part 4

2009-09-22T00:24:00.000-07:00

Book 1

The Tale of Despereaux

Author: Kate DiCamillo

Illustrator: Timothy Basil Ering

Newbery Award Winner 2004

Language:

I will never forget the day I learned my first truly big, grown-up word. I was four, and I despised violin lessons. The only way my mother could get me to go without pitching the mother of all fits was bribery. If I went willingly every week for a month, I would get a reward. One month, as my mother and I were walking out of K-Mart with my brand new Strawberry Shortcake doll clutched in my happy little hand, we encountered my violin teacher and her husband entering the store. After a few seconds of awkward social pleasantries, my mother said as she was buckling me into my carseat, “Do you realize what just happened, Melissa? We ran into your violin teacher at K-Mart while we were buying you a toy for being good at your violin lessons. That’s called a ‘coincidence.’”

Obviously, the word and the description stuck with me. Because the word ‘coincidence’ was explained to me in the simplest terms and was related to something I could understand, I learned the word, retained the meaning, and assimilated it into my vocabulary from that day on.

Kate DiCamillo explains new words to her readers in a manner that reminds me of my mother’s. She puts the meaning of the words in terms that they can understand. For example, in explaining the word ‘empathy,’ DiCamillo says: “It means that when you are being forcibly taken to a dungeon, when you have a large knife pointed at your back, when you are trying to be brave, you are able, still, to think for a moment of the person who is holding that knife.” (179-180)

References
DiCamillo, K. (2003). The tale of Despereaux. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press.

The Tale of Despereaux, Part 3

2009-09-22T00:21:00.000-07:00

Book 1

The Tale of Despereaux

Author: Kate DiCamillo

Illustrator: Timothy Basil Ering

Newbery Award Winner 2004

Themes:

Light versus darkness is the most prevalent theme in The Tale of Despereaux. Both Despereaux and Roscuro, the mouse and the rat, are drawn to the light but held by the dark.

Despereaux is born with his eyes prematurely open and fixated on the light: “He was staring at the sun reflecting off his mother’s mirror. The light was shining onto the ceiling in an oval of brilliance, and he was smiling up at the sight.” (14) At another point in the story, his brother is trying to teach him to scurry like a proper mouse. Rather than sticking to the corners of the room, Despereaux lingers on the open floor, and we are told, “He was staring at the light pouring in through the stained-glass windows of the castle. He stood on his hind legs and held his handkerchief over his heart and stared up, up, up into the brilliant light.” (18) Finally, when Despereaux escapes the dungeon, he has a dream about light. In this dream, “He dreamt of the stained-glass windows and the dark of the dungeon. In Despereaux’s dream, the light came to life, brilliant and glorious, in the shape of a knight swinging a sword. The knight fought the dark. And the dark took many shapes.” (165)

Roscuro yearns for light even though he was born in the darkness of the dungeon. “He was always, in the darkness of the dungeon, on the lookout for the light, the smallest glimmer, the tiniest shimmer. His rat soul longed inexplicably for it; he began to think that light was the only thing that gave life meaning, and he despaired that there was so little of it to be had.” (79-80) The rat’s name, Chiaroscuro, is actually an artistic term that means the arrangement of light and dark. After he inadvertently causes the death of the queen, as he retreats back to the dark of the dungeon, Roscuro adjures the light, saying, “I am a rat. And there is no light for rats. There will be no light for me.” (105)

Another theme universal to all the main characters is loss. Despereaux loses his family when they hand him over the Mouse Council for trial and death, the light when he is sent to the dark of the dungeon, hope when he begins to believe that there is no happily ever after, and even his tail when Mig cuts it off. Roscuro loses hope when he goes into the light and tragedy occurs, and he loses light itself when he willingly returns to the dark of the dungeon. Mig loses her mother to death, her father when he sells her into slavery, her freedom, and her hearing. And even Pea, the priviledged princess, loses her mother.

Finally, forgiveness is a theme central to The Tale of Despereaux. The evil rat Botticelli tells Roscuro that the best, cruelest way to torture a prisoner in the dungeon is to play the part of confessor, promise him forgiveness, and then withhold it. (81) Mig’s father, after selling his daughter into slavery, clings to the red tablecloth he sold her for, riddled with guilt over what he has done, desperate to believe that the tablecloth is a thing of value. (91-92) Later, Despereaux realizes how important forgiveness is when his father begs him for forgiveness for turning him in to the Mouse Council, which resulted in him being sent to what should have been his death in the dungeon. It is at this point that the author conjectures, “Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love, a powerful, wonderful thing…And a ridiculous thing, too.” (187)

References
DiCamillo, K. (2003). The tale of Despereaux. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press.

The Tale of Despereaux, Part 2

2009-09-22T00:06:00.000-07:00

Book 1

The Tale of Despereaux

Author: Kate DiCamillo

Illustrator: Timothy Basil Ering

Newbery Award Winner 2004

Characters:

Despereaux Tilling is a tiny mouse with giant ears, the only one of his litter to survive, who is labeled a disappointment by his mother and father only minutes after his birth. Born with eyes prematurely open, he is drawn to light rather than scurrying in dark corners like other mice. When he stumbles upon a book of fairy tales in the castle where he lives, he becomes obsessed with stories of courtly love and happily ever after. Then he meets Pea, the young princess who lives in the castle, and he falls in love. It is this love for Pea that will drive his actions throughout the rest of the story. Because of his love for her, he is brave in the face of fear and unwilling to give up in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

Chiaroscuro, called Roscuro, is a rat who dwells in the dungeon but is obsessed with light. The other rats ridicule him, telling him rats belong in the darkness and that their whole purpose in life is to cause the suffering of others. Roscuro’s yearning for light leads him up to the dining room of the castle, where a tragedy occurs when the queen dies of shock at the sight of Roscuro in her soup. This leads to the king outlawing rats, soup, and all soup accoutrements. Roscuro returns to the dungeon, embittered, with a renewed zest for suffering and a burning desire for revenge.

Miggery Sow is a peasant girl who is sold into slavery by her father after the death of her mother. Mig is unintelligent, unattractive, and nearly deaf after years of abuse, specifically ‘good cloutings to the ear.’ Because no one has ever cared enough to listen to any of her hopes, dreams, or desires, Mig is an easy target for Roscuro’s manipulations. By simply listening to her, he is able to ascertain that Mig’s greatest desire is to be a princess like Pea, and he is able to use that get her to take part in his plot to lure Pea to the dungeon.

Pea is a princess who is still grieving over the death of her mother, the queen, who dropped dead of shock at the sight of Roscuro, the rat. She is an observant child, noticing Despereaux when he sneaks into her bedroom to listen to the king playing her music and noticing Roscuro first when he sneaks into the dining room. She is also a compassionate child, listening to Miggery Sow and not ridiculing Mig when she says she’s going to be a princess someday. About the state of Pea’s heart, the author tells us: “Like most hearts, it was complicated, shaded with dark and dappled with light.” (179)

References:

DiCamillo, K. (2003). The tale of Despereaux. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press.

The Tale of Despereaux, Part 1

2009-09-22T00:03:00.000-07:00

Book 1
The Tale of Despereaux
Author: Kate DiCamillo
Illustrator: Timothy Basil Ering
Newbery Award Winner 2004

Plot Summary:

Despereaux Tilling is a tiny, sickly mouse with giant ears. He is the only one of his litter to survive birth and is declared a disappointment by both parents shortly thereafter. Born with his eyes prematurely open, he is attracted to the light. He also develops a fascination with stories of courtly love and happily ever after. Drawn by the sound of music, he enters the bedchamber of the Princess Pea and falls in love. Revealing oneself to humans is a crime in mouse culture, so Despereaux’s father turns him over to the Mouse Council. Despereaux is sentenced to death, which means he is taken to the dungeon and left in the darkness for the rats to devour.

In the dungeon lives a rat named Roscuro (short for Chiaroscuro). Roscuro was the inadvertent instrument of the queen’s death when he fell into her soup and she apparently died of shock. This led to the king outlawing rats, soup, and soup accoutrements. Banished back to the dungeon, the bitter and diabolical Roscuro has sworn revenge on the Princess Pea and her father. While escaping the dungeon on a serving tray, Despereaux overhears a plot by Roscuro to lure the little princess to the dungeon and keep her there forever with the help of a dimwitted servant girl named Miggery Sow.

While an exhausted Despereaux sleeps, Roscuro and Miggery Sow carry out their plot and abscond with Pea to the dungeon. When Roscuro orders her to put the princess in chains, Miggery Sow realizes she has been duped and refuses. However, both girls realize they will never be able to find their way out of the dark maze of the dungeon without assistance. Meanwhile, Despereaux tries to get help from the Mouse Council and the king, and is refused by both. Realizing he is completely on his own, he prepares to enter the dungeon with a needle as his sword and a spool of red thread to guide him. On his way there, he has a run-in with the Cook, whom he catches in the act of making forbidden soup. She gives Despereaux some of the delicious soup to eat, then sends him on his way.

Once in the dungeon, Despereaux encounters the evil, misery-loving rat Botticelli, who agrees to lead him to the princess only so he can devour the mouse before her. When Despereaux reaches the princess and Roscuro, he scuffles with Roscuro, reluctant to kill the rat. Then Roscuro smells soup and is transported back to the day when the queen died and he begins to cry and begs Despereaux to kill him. Instead, Pea forgives Roscuro and tells him she will allow him into the light of the castle whenever he wants. Then Despereaux, Roscuro, Pea, and Miggery Sow all return to the light to eat soup.

References:
DiCamillo, K. (2003). The tale of Despereaux. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press.

Newbery Award

2009-09-21T23:56:00.000-07:00

I have chosen to begin my reading for this semester with two Newbery Award winners, The Tale of Despereaux and The Higher Power of Lucky.

The criteria for Newbery Award winners are as follows:

The work must be primarily composed of text.
The work may be fiction, non-fiction, or poetry.
The work should be written for a target audience of children up to age 14.
The work must be original and may not be a compilation or reprint.
The author must be an American citizen or resident.
The work must be published in the previous year.
The work must be written in the English language.

Source:

Greetings

2009-08-31T16:00:00.000-07:00

Greetings to all my LME 518 classmates at Western Kentucky University. My name is Melissa Treece Tucker, and this blog has been created to fulfill a requirement for an advanced children's literature class.