Class Post - Review - "Brown Girl Dreaming"

It seems like every year there are one or two middle grade books upon which everyone agrees.  Last year, Cynthia Kadohata’s The Thing About Luck received five starred reviews, as did Rita Williams-Garcia’s P.S. Be Eleven and Holly Black’s Doll Bones.  The year before that, R. J. Palacio’s Wonder was on everyone’s lips.  This year, that honor seems to going to Jacqueline Woodson’s autobiography-in-verse, Brown Girl Dreaming.  And it couldn’t happen to a more deserving book.

Starting from Part I, “i am born”, Woodson follows the trajectory of her life from Ohio to North Carolina and up to New York during a tumultuous and watershed time in American history.  In spare but very affecting verse, she writes about her father, whom as a child she did not really remember, her mother, her grandparents and especially her siblings.

2014 has been a very good year for middle grade works in verse, seeing several outstanding examples, including Andrea Davis Pinkey’s The Red Pencil, Kwame Alexander’s The Crossover and Skila Brown’s Caminar.  The past few years have brought more prominence to the genre, with the Newbery Medal going to Katherine Applegate’s The One and Only Ivan in 2013 and a Newbery honor to Thanhha Lai’s Inside Out & Back Again in 2012.  Many pundits agree that Brown Girl Dreaming is the frontrunner for the 2015 Newbery Award.

Woodson’s verse is deceptively simple.  Free verse, with the occasional haiku thrown in, Woodson uses language to evoke the feelings, memories, sounds and smells of her childhood.  “The crickets/ and frogs call out./ Sometimes, there’s the soft/ who-whoo of an owl lost/ amid the pines./ Even the dogs won’t rest until/ they’ve howled/ at the moon” (emphasis by the author).

As I said, Brown Girl Dreaming has garnered great attention this year, including six starred reviews.  Kirkus Review writes, “Woodson cherishes her memories and shares them with a graceful lyricism; her lovingly wrought vignettes of country and city streets will linger long after the page is turned.”  Publishers Weekly emphasizes the strength of Woodson’s descriptions, saying, “The writer’s passion for stories and storytelling permeates the memoir, explicitly addressed in her early attempts to write books and implicitly conveyed through her sharp images and poignant observations seen through the eyes of a child.”

In this narrative, food is culture.  Woodson writes longingly of food, as it connects her to her sometimes disconnected family and her new friends in New York.  Her family gathers, “sitting an running their mouths/ while the pots on the stove bubbled/ with collards and sizzled with chicken/ and corn bread baked up brown/ inside Kay’s big black oven” (emphasis by the author).  Later, Woodson marks the prosperity of her family by the quality of the meals.  Plain pancakes in lean times are followed up with syrup, fruit and butter in more comfortable times.  Woodson’s relationship with her best friend Maria is punctuated by descriptions of Maria’s mother’s cooking.  “She pulls the crisp skin/ away from the pernil, eats the pork shoulder/ with rice and beans/…Yeah, I say.  This is only for us.  The family” (Emphasis by the author).

Because Woodson discusses many seminal moments in American history, there are many directions a reader may go if they want further reading.  Perhaps the first books I would recommend are Rita Williams-Garcia’s One Crazy Summer and P.S. Be Eleven (and yes, I am aware that I recommend these books a lot, but honestly, they’re worth it).  These books cover topics like the Black Panthers (whose breakfast programs are mentioned in Brown Girl Dreaming) and the Vietnam War, as well as being concerned with self-identity, maturity and responsibility, all things Woodson touches upon in her book.  Another beautiful book that I often find myself steering patrons towards is Cynthia Levinson’s micro-history of the Civil Rights movement called We’ve Got a Job: The 1963 Birmingham Children’s March.  Woodson wrote about the training civil rights protesters had to undergo, training to help them stay non-violent and strong.  Levinson gives details about such training, undergone by children and young adults in this startling and stirring account.

When the Newbery announcement is made this coming January, I won’t at all be surprised to hear Brown Girl Dreaming and Jacqueline Woodson’s name being called.  This is a vital book, a pleasurable book.  It is the kind of book that readers of any sex, color or creed can get lost inside.

Woodson, Jacqueline.  Brown Girl Dreaming.  New York: Nancy Paulsen Books, 2014.  ISBN: 9780399252518

Class Post - Review - "Black Cowboy Wild Horses"

Close your eyes.  Think of a cowboy, a quintessential American cowboy.  The hat, the spurs, the whole nine yards.  Now open your eyes, and look at the cover of Black Cowboy Wild Horses: A True Story by Julius Lester.  Is this the image you pictured?

Probably not.  The image of the American cowboy in media representations has been so overwhelmingly white that it might be hard to imagine anything else.  What Julius Lester and illustrated Jerry Pinkney have done with this gorgeous, transfixing picture book is open up an entire new vista of possibilities for thinking about the classic cowboy image.

Bob Lemmons is a cowboy.  With his black stallion, Warrior, Bob sets off to corral a herd of wild mustangs.  Across familiar landscapes, Bob tracks the animals and bides his time.  He protects himself during a thunderstorm.  When he finds the herd, he is careful, he is dominant, and he eventually brings most of the herd back to the ranch, to the cheers of the other cowboys.

Black Cowboy Wild Horses is not a book for die-hard animal lovers.  Frank acknowledgement of animal cruelty involved in the corralling of a wild herd in the Old West is part and parcel of Lester’s narrative.  This is definitely a picture book for older readers, written around a fourth-grade reading level.

Lester’s text does not make a big to-do about the color of Bob’s skin, letting the emphasis of that image rest on Pinkney’s shoulders.  Lester does mention Bob’s background, writing, “Some people learned from books.  Bob had been a slave and never learned to read words”, going on to say that Bob was fluent in the language of tracking animals.  This is the only mention Lester gives to Bob’s race.  Pinkey, however, with his gorgeous illustrations in pencil, gouache and watercolor, says volumes.  He places Bob in the traditional settings of a cowboy: horses, the wide open prairie, dusty ranches.  The contrast is given between what is familiar, the image of the American West, with what is unfamiliar, a black cowboy.  A two-page spread towards the end of the book features Bob, just coming into frame on the left side, while the page is dominated by white cowboys.  Though subtle, the difference is very telling.

Black Cowboy Wild Horses received a starred review from Publishers Weekly.  The review highlights "[t]he fluid brushwork of Pinkney's watercolors" and says the book is "[n]otable for the light it sheds on a fascinating slice of Americana."

Backmatter reveals more about the author and illustrator’s inspiration for the story, and Pinkney gives an important nugget of information: “...one out of three cowboys was black or Mexican”.  These are not the images we have from popular books, movies and television.  That’s what makes a book like Black Cowboy Wild Horses so significant.  By not making a big deal of Bob’s race, Lester is acknowledging that such a thing was not uncommon at all, and in fact was downright commonplace.  This offers young black readers an image in a popular genre that reflects their own face.

In the backmatter, Pinkney lists two famous black western names, Nat Love, a cowboy, and Bill Pickett, a rodeo star.  Several books exist for those interested in further reading, including Pat McKissack’s Best Shot in the West: The Adventures of Nat Love, Andrea Davis Pinkey’s Bill Pickett: Rodeo-Riding’ Cowboy, Lillian Schlissel’s Black Frontiers: A History of African American Heroes in the Old West and Vaunda Micheaux Nelson’s Bad News for Outlaws: The Remarkable Life of Bass Reeves, deputy U.S. Marshall.

Lester, Julius.  Black Cowboy Wild Horses.  Illustrated by Jerry Pinkney.  New York: Dial Books, 1998.  ISBN: 9780803717879

Class Post - Review - "Jane, the fox & me"

I’m not sure what it is, but there is something about the graphic novel format that allows for such an honest baring of one’s (literary) soul.  Graphic memoirs like Smile by Raina Telgemeier, The Dumbest Idea Ever! by Jimmy Gownley and I Remember Beirut  by Zeina Abirached have become more and more popular, and something like author Fanny Britt and illustrator Isabelle Arsenault’s Jane, the fox & me, which not strictly autobiographical, has to come from some place of truth.

Hélène, a young student with body and self-esteem issues, navigates the now treacherous landscape of school, with the help of Jane Eyre, which she is reading for the first time.  Girls who used to be friends now write hurtful things about Hélène on the bathroom walls and no one rises to her defense.  On an end-of-school camp trip, Hélène gets grouped with the “Outcasts”, a Latin girl who does not yet speak French and a girl whose only peculiarity seems to be a preoccupation with brushing her hair.  A chance encounter with a wild fox and finally reaching the end of Jane Eyre help give Hélène confidence, enough to recognize a new friend when one arrives.

Hélène’s story could easily stand in for any number of children, of all genders, ethnicities, nationalities and orientation.  Having self-doubt is not just a trait of the picked-on, but all adolescents (and adults, for that matter) of all kinds, everywhere, amen.  This is a story that transcends culture.  At the same time, however, Jane, the fox & me is littered with cultural references, like pins on a digital map.  Fashion is often up for discussion, including the passing trend of old-fashioned crinoline dresses and nautical-themed bathing suits.  The inclusion of the character of Lucia Muniz, a recent transfer who only speaks Spanish, is interesting in that she is labeled an outcast (by the narrator, no less) merely for her language barrier, which is later breached by a new friend with a little bit of Spanish in her back pocket.  The addition of this new friend, Géraldine, removes the last names from the other girls’ descriptions, changing them from outcasts to fellow friendlies.

Originally published in French, in Montreal, Canada in 2012, Jane, the fox & me was translated by Christelle Morelli and Susan Ouriou and published in English in 2013.  It appeared on the United States Board on Books for Young People’s (USBBY) list of Outstanding International Books in 2014.  In 2013, it was named by the New York Times Book Review as one of the Best Illustrated Children’s Books.  The book received at least three starred reviews, and overwhelmingly favorable reviews across the board.  Francisca Goldsmith of Booklist called it “An elegant and accessible approach to an important topic” and stated that “Britt's well-constructed narrative is achieved sensitively through Arsenault's impressionistic artwork” (Oct. 15^th, 2013).  Karen Coats from The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books highlighted Arsenault’s artwork:

 “Helene's emotional tangle is given poignant expression through Arsenault's pitch-perfect mixed-media art; thin pencil-lined figures picked out against smudgy neutral grays and muted sepia tones highlight both the sharp-edged sources and limned echoes of Helene's everyday sadness, while the depictions of her imagined scenes from Jane Eyre are cleaner and more colorful, bringing in reds and greens, and even on occasion exploding into luminous watercolor landscapes. The contrast is striking and sets up the almost mystical tone of the encounter with the fox, who stands out in the red previously reserved for Helene's imaginary connection with Jane.” (Nov. 2013)

Jane, the fox & me is a wonderful book to give to fans of Jane Eyre, but also to readers who have not yet experienced the classic.  Britt’s narrative does give away details of Jane’s story, but the pleasure Hélène takes in reading it could easily inspire others to take up the tale.  Britt even mirrors Jane Eyre’s beginning with her opening line, “There was no possibility of hiding anywhere today.”

Readers inspired by Arsenault’s artwork could explore her previous works, including the picture books Migrant, written by Maxine Trotter and Spork and Virginia, Wolf, written by Kyo Maclear.

The exploratory nature of Hélène’s narrative would offer a good segue into graphic memoirs, such as those listed above (especially Smile, which tackles some of the same feelings of self-doubt), but also such graphics as Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi, Little White Duck: A Childhood in China by Na Liu and Andrés Vera Martínez and The Color Trilogy by Kim Dong Hwa, all of which touch on issues of identity and adolescence in a way that is tied into the characters’/memoirists’ cultural background.

Britt, Fanny.  Jane, the fox & me.  Illustrated by Isabelle Arsenault.  Translated by Christelle Morelli and Susan Ouriou.  Toronto: Groundwood Books, 2013.  ISBN: 9781554983605

Class Post - Review - "Hunwick's Egg"

Hunwick the bandicoot finds an abandoned egg one evening after a storm.  The egg’s mother cannot be found, so Hunwick takes it home with him.  Hunwick becomes the perfect egg-parent, attentive, affectionate and protective.  But the egg never hatches, and Hunwick’s neighbors start to worry about him.

Animals with adopted eggs is hardly a new story, even when Hunwick’s Egg was published in 2005.  Horton hatched an egg in 1940, after all.  But with a surprise “twist” ending, Mem Fox, doyenne of animal picture books, has created something special.  Fox and illustrator Pamela Lofts give readers an adorable hero (I dare anyone to turn the page to Hunwick’s introduction and not say, “Aww”) with an unusual problem: an egg that won’t hatch.  Fox’s repetition of the phrase, “Neither did it hatch” reinforces for young readers and listeners the passage of time and the feeling that something is not quite right.  Fox’s story is a gentle one.  Hunwick’s friends worry about him, but do not tease, as Horton’s friends did.  Hunwick cares for the egg, developing a friendship with an inanimate object in a way that young children with stuffed animals and imaginary friends can well understand.  Pamela Lofts’ illustrations of the Australian wildlife are wonderfully detailed, and the layout of the pages, with small boxes of action and highlighted images against a white background, is inviting without being overwhelming.

Hunwick’s Egg won the Anne Izard Storytellers’ Choice Award in 2007, and was named to the Bank Street College of Education’s Best Children’s Books of the Year list in 2005.  It was also shortlisted for several Australian literature awards, including the Young Australians Best Book Award in 2013.  

Critics did not always agree with my positive assessment of Hunwick’s Egg.  Gillian Engberg for Booklist found that Fox’s “abrupt conclusion is puzzling… [b]ut children will easily be drawn to Lofts' astonishingly expressive animal characters, and Fox's gentle text may resonate with young ones who feel a magical connection or companionship with their own cherished rock, shell, or shred of blanket” (Feb. 15^th, 2005).  Kirkus Reviews wrote that “Several disconnects between text and pictures sink this faintly bizarre tale of a solitary elder who adopts an understandably silent confidante” (Jan. 15^th, 2005).  However, bizarre is hardly the worst thing that could be said about a picture book, and if you’re Chris Van Allsburg, it’s practically a requirement.  I have found that children respond well to the rhythm and general good vibes of this story.  The detail of the illustrations might be better served in a large book format, however, as children are always wanting to see this book close up.

Mem Fox is a staple of my storytime routine, and fans of Hunwick’s Egg have many directions in which to go if they want to explore more of Fox’s work.  Where is the Green Sheep?, illustrated by Judy Horacek, is perhaps my favorite because it works with a variety of ages.  Let’s Count Goats!, illustrated by the criminally underappreciated Jan Thomas is another fun, interactive book.  If the reader or listener wishes another zoological trip to Australia, Fox has several titles to offer, including Koala Lou and Possum Magic.  There are also two other, non-Fox books about Australian animal life that are wonderful books to recommend: Over in Australia: Amazing Animals Down Under, written by Marianne Berkes and illustrated by Jill Dubin and An Australian ABC of Animals, written and illustrated by Bronwyn Bancroft.

How can you not like Hunwick?  Just look at that face!

Fox, Mem.  Hunwick’s Egg.  Orlando: Harcourt, 2005.  ISBN: 9780152163181 (Illustrated by Pamela Lofts)

Class Post - Review - "The Man Who Went to the Far Side of the Moon"

There are some stories that we know so well, it takes a truly distinctive book to do them the proper justice.  The Moon Landing might well be one of those stories.  We remember the grainy footage, the crackle of the audio link and Neil Armstrong’s immortal words.  But for children who are just learning about this monumental feat of human achievement, this is often as far as the story goes.  Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, picked up some moon rocks and came home.  The end.  Bea Uusma Schyffert’s The Man Who Went to the Far Side of the Moon: The Story of Apollo 11 Astronaut Michael Collins is a unique approach to the story of man’s quest for the moon that gives readers a backstage glimpse of this historical milestone.

Schyffert uses primary sources, including Collins’ own scribbled notes during the Apollo 11 mission, photos, lists and charts to illustrate and advance the narrative.  Readers are given context for all three men on the mission (Collins, Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin), but it is Collins who is the emotional center of this book.  Never setting foot on the moon himself, Collins orbits the moon the in the Columbia spacecraft, confined to a small space and isolated for 14 revolutions, over twenty-five hours.  Schyffert gives readers a taste of Collins’ thoughts during this time, half of which is spent without radio communication, on the dark side of the moon.

The Man Who Went to the Far Side of the Moon was a Batchelder honor book and a Boston Globe-Horn Book Award honor book in 2004.  It received very good reviews from professional publications.  Booklist said, “More than a trip to the Smithsonian, even more than viewing the film Apollo 13, this excellent book--illustrated scrapbook-style with a cleverly presented mix of photographs, illustrations, and charts--communicates the excitement of space travel” (Nov. 1^st, 2003). Children’s Literature also took note of the book’s visual appeal, saying, “Photos, drawings, diagrams, a reproduction of Collins' checklist, and his own handwritten observations are filled with fascinating details” (2003).

The Man Who Went to the Far Side of the Moon is an excellent book to start readers with who are interested in exploring the literature of space travel.  It is light and readable, but jammed with information.  Readers can then go into some other fantastic titles about the Moon Landing, include Brian Floca’s Moonshot: The Flight of Apollo 11 and other space exploration books, like Tanya Lee Stone’s Almost Astronauts: 13 Women Who Dared to Dream and Ian Graham’s You Wouldn’t Want to Be on Apollo 13!: A Mission You’d Rather Not Go On (The “You Wouldn’t Want…” series is a great series for reluctant readers, as the authors present historical facts with cartoonish accompaniment and relish dealing with things that might be icky, such as Aztec sacrifice).

Apollo 11 was an American aerospace endeavor, but the accomplishment belongs to the world.  It was a global achievement, one that was witnessed on television by one-fifth of the Earth's population.  Schyffert’s book, originally published in Sweden, illustrates this fact.  The appreciation and admiration of Armstrong, Aldrin and especially Collins is evident, but the book never stoops to glorifying them, in a way that might be present in an American-produced publication.  Schyffert seems to be saying that Collins was a hero, not because he was super-human, but because he was human, an ordinary man who did an extraordinary thing.

Schyffer, Bea Uusma.  The Man Who Went to the Far Side of the Moon: The Story of Apollo 11 Astronaut Michael Collins. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2003.  ISBN: 9780811840071