I continue to write posts about some of the books I loved during the Cybils process. I keep trying to bring as much attention as possible to the Cybils - it is so much fun for me. The books, the discussion, the exposure to books I hadn't seen before, the discussion... I want everyone to know about these panels! I can't believe it's summer, almost time to apply for a panel again, and I still have a few more books to write about. There are so many books that are nominated, and so many of those books strike me, and just don't win the support of the whole panel, but are still worthy of additional discussion. Two of the things that struck me about Freedom Song: The Story of Henry "Box" Brown were the twin themes of family and music.
One of the ways an author can bring the realities of anyone's life and story to readers is to use those things that are universal. Even as I sit here, more than 150 years later, in completely different circumstances, some of Henry Brown's feelings about his family are painfully real to me.
This story begins with Henry Brown's birth. He is born a slave, but far more importantly, he was born into a family full of love. "Mama blew kisses on his soft, brown body. Papa named him Henry, held him high to the sky. Sisters and brothers tickled his toes." On the next page, Walker notes "The whole family's love grew Henry strong", even as the shadow of Master waiting outside their door threatens the family circle. Once Henry begins working for Master, his songs begin. Henry has a song for every situation - a workday song, a hidey-hole song, and his favorite, most heartfelt, secret song, his freedom song. "Henry's freedom song promised a place where families stayed together."
And that freedom songs stays in his heart and mind as he is sent away to Richmond to work in a tobacco factory when he is almost grown. Just as he leaves his family, he meets and falls in love with another slave, Nancy. When their masters allow them to marry, "Henry and Nancy sang with joy." Henry and Nancy have their own children, and as their life grows and changes, "Family songs hushed Henry's freedom song." Then the most heart-wrenching thing happens: their master sells Nancy and their children away. Henry grieves for his lost family. He is silent, without the music that accompanied him previously. Except for that one song that he has always held secret in a corner of his heart - his freedom song. That freedom song leads him to do something daring - escape slavery to try and save his family.
Henry builds a box to ship himself to freedom, to the address of William Johnson, a freedom-loving man in Pennsylvania. This is a dangerous escape plan for many reasons - if he is caught, he may be killed as a runaway slave. But it is also physically dangerous. Henry plans carefully, and includes water in his padded box. But there are other unpredictable dangers - at one point, the box tips over and slams Henry onto his head. While he makes it to freedom, the book ends before we know what happens with Henry and his family.
As you can see from the recap of Henry's life story, one of the most beautiful things about this book to me is the circle of family. Henry begins his life with the tight circle of family. Their life isn't easy - there are lines of exhaustion and worry on Henry's mother's face as she serves the family dinner. But there is love in how they sit, facing each other and spending time together. Walker writes that Henry isn't sent away until he "was almost grown", which is unusual. He spends a lot of his life with his family. Then when he moves to Richmond and falls in love with Nancy, he continues that strong family connection that his parents modeled for him. "He named his son, held him high to the sky", just as Henry's father had done with him. The illustrations show Henry's family gathered around each other, singing while Henry plays the banjo. All connected, loving, despite their slavery, despite the harsh realities of their lives.
Then there are those heartbreaking moments when first his children and then his wife are sold away from him. When Henry hears his older son calling, he runs to the wagon. "Henry fought to reach his son, to clutch him in this arms." But he is restrained. Then when he finds Nancy, "Henry clasped her hands. He held on tight and walked for miles, until men tore him away." Walker tells Henry's story with stark, raw, painful details. It puts me right in the middle of his grief, his despair and desperation.
Walker's writing is amazing - the way that she incorporates the musical words is so natural and yet all-pervasive. When he is told that his family is gone, Walker says that "Henry's song died in his throat." Those songs have sustained him his entire life, been the songs that celebrate love and family. And then they are silent as Henry huddles under a worn blanket, staring out the window in misery. But the freedom song revives Henry's heart and speeds him on his way to freedom. His music keeps him determined and keeps him moving towards freedom. The combination of the song and and the family in his heart drive him to risk getting away.
Qualls' illustrations are incredibly striking. They are historically accurate and yet feel modern too. Qualls does an amazing job of bringing Henry and his family to life. The expressions, hard work, and hard life are etched on their faces. As Henry's family is taken away, you can recognize his despair from his upraised arms, his fall to his knees. The colors are blues, browns and blacks which give some peace to the family scenes, and some starkness to the emotional pages. And there is a circle motif throughout the pages, reminding me of the movement and travel depicted there - both the movement Henry chooses and the movement he cannot control.
While there is an author's note and an excerpt from a letter from the man Brown shipped himself to, I do wish there was more back matter. Walker refers to the fact that Henry gave lectures about his escape, and I wish she could have cited those, or included a bibliography of sources for his story. But I love the construction of this story and how Walker creates such an emotional gripping story. Its strengths don't disappear just because I would have liked stronger back matter. It is one of those nonfiction picture books that would work well at a number of age levels and levels of comprehension. Because we all have a family.
Freedom Song: The Story of Henry "Box" Brown. By Sally J. Walker; illustrated by Sean Qualls. Harper, 2012.
sent by the publisher for Cybils consideration
Note: I was on the Cybils nonfiction picture book panel, but this blog post only reflects my personal ideas and thoughts on this book.
Abraham Lincoln has been the topic of much discussion lately. Of course, there was the multiple-Oscar nominated movie, with its Oscar-winning best actor. I've already blogged about Looking for Lincoln, a book which gave facts about Abraham Lincoln a new, postmodern twist. And here at the Murray house, Abraham Lincoln has taken on a great deal of importance since Presidents' Day. Frances' teacher told her Kindergarten class some of Lincoln's biography, and she's been talking about him ever since. We see a ramshackle wooden shed on the side of the freeway, and that is Lincoln's childhood log cabin home. I've heard many times that his mother died when he was nine years old. A few days ago, we were on our way home from dinner, and Gloria wanted me to turn on the car's interior light so she could color. I explained that it was against the law, and Frances piped up and asked whether Abraham Lincoln made that law too. Clearly, Abraham Lincoln is an important historical figure to Frances!
This picture book begins with the dogs. The narrator mentions that three of last century's presidential dogs would not enter "that room". The afterword explains that "that room" was the Lincoln Bedroom. The narrator goes on to say that people saw his ghost on February 12th, but everyone was wearing stovepipe hats and beards (although astute readers will easily pick out the ghost peering out from behind a curtain). Then a young girl named Quincy slips away from her school tour and sees the ghost of Abraham Lincoln poring over the Gettysburg Address. They really see and acknowledge each other. He tells her a couple of corny jokes and she politely laughs. Lincoln admits during their conversation that he continues to have the same dream, over and over again: "It's always the same. I'm on a ship sailing repeatedly for some shore I know not where." Lincoln has been pacing through the White House while they've talked, with Quincy scrambling to catch up with his long legs. He apologizes for being so restless, but tells her "...there was so much to do beyond 1865. Our union was so fragile, so uncertain. Like that ship on the rocky sea." Quincy (and the reader) realizes that Lincoln has stayed because he doesn't know how things have turned out in history. Quincy takes Abraham Lincoln on a flight around the world (Lincoln doing the flying), giving him updates along the way. Later that night, the narrator says, Quincy herself has a dream. "She dreamed of a man, a tall man in black, on a boat moving rapidly toward the rising sun." It is, of course, Abraham Lincoln, with his worries and burdens now lightened, who is sailing off towards the sun.
This book is clever in a number of ways. One of the ways I find it most clever is very subtle, and in fact took me several readings to discover and appreciate. The book is titled Abe Lincoln's Dream, but his name is never mentioned in the text. The President is referred to only as "he", or once as "the ghost", although he is described in all the traditional ways we've come to associate with Lincoln: the stovepipe hat and beard, tall, dressed in black. The narrator comments the first time Quincy sees Lincoln: "He was dressed in black from hat to boot, but she wasn't frightened; he had a long face that made her feel sorry for him." These descriptions are all things we know about Lincoln. And of course, there are other textual references to his history as President. The jokes, the references to 1865, his admiration of the Gettysburg Address and his question about whether the states are united all point to his identity without Smith having to name him at all. And because of the preponderance of textual and illustrative clues, I can't help but wonder how many readers actually fail to notice that the ghost is unnamed.
Of course, Lane Smith's illustrations also help identify Lincoln. Smith does an incredible job of walking the fine line between evoking the actual man himself and creating a character for this story. His tall black stovepipe hat, his grasshopper-like legs and neatly trimmed beard all echo the portraits of Abraham Lincoln we can all call to mind. The facial expressions, though, are pure Lane Smith. My favorite one is when Abraham Lincoln throws his hand to his forehead, eyes closed, head bent back in a dramatic fashion. The text at that moment is serious, but the look makes readers smile. Similar to John, Paul, George & Ben, Smith takes a historical figure and pokes a little fun at him. There is a lightness to much of this book that contradicts the sadness in Lincoln's long face.
Lane Smith is comfortable creating in that gray area between fact and fiction. As I mentioned previously, the first pages of the book include several dogs owned by other presidents. Smith cites each of the dogs, their Presidents(and which President they were), giving authenticity to the picture book. But the most stunning fact of all is the fact that the morning of his assassination, Smith tells us, President Lincoln told members of his cabinet of a disturbing dream he'd had - the one he described in the text to Quincy. It is an incredible connection for readers and re-emphasizes the fact that this dream kept the fictional character trapped in the Executive Mansion all these years. It is truly an amazing book - enough fact to ground readers in information, enough fancy to help readers soar. All I could wish for were some citations for Smith's afterword, but really it feels authentic without that information. While this is a picture book, and a story, it is based in fact, and again straddles that gray area in between.
As always, the book design (done by Lane Smith's wife, Molly Leach) is impeccable. The book is a mix of historical and modern touches. Quincy, Lincoln and the narrator all speak in different fonts which adds to the interest on each page. But all of the fonts are clean and crisp, so the page never feels too cluttered, even with all three speaking on the same page.
I think the last thing I would like to mention about this book is its audience. While Frances, a kindergartener, was interested in this book, I believe this book also rewards a more sophisticated, older reader. This is the kind of book that appeals to Kindergarteners with its basic narrative thread. They would enjoy Lincoln's silly, old-fashioned jokes. A fifth grader would have learned more about Lincoln and the history of the United States and could appreciate some of the things that aren't said here. And a high schooler would also be familiar with the history here, and would not feel as if the narrator talked down to them. It's a flexible, entertaining book, good for multiple levels and audiences. I wish I had time to compare it to other books with characters flying through the sky, seeing the world around them, such as Tar Beach. There are lots of ideas that come out of a well-written book, Pick this one up, not to learn more about the facts of Lincoln's life, but to experience history through his eyes.
Abe Lincoln's Dream. Lane Smith. Roaring Brook Press, 2012.
borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library
I have been reading books for the Cybils like crazy for the last few weeks, and have found some real gems that I can't wait to share with you. Here's the first of the nonfiction picture books that I would like you to track down and read. With the movie out about his life and presidency, Abraham Lincoln is a popular president again. While this book was probably not written to take advantage of the movie's buzz, it will certainly be looked at with interest because of its subject matter. And my hope is that it is read again and again, because of how well it has been created.
The narrator of this book begins by telling the readers that she saw a man while walking in the park. He attracted her attention with his unusual height. He reminded her of someone, but until she finished eating breakfast, she couldn't think who it might be. When they paid, she realized that he looked like the man on the $5 bill - Abraham Lincoln.
Like my own fondest hope for readers, this chance meeting spurs the narrator on to more research. She goes to the library to learn more about Abraham Lincoln's life, but she finds that she can't tear herself away from his face. The narrator recites facts about Lincoln's life and death, inserting her own ponderings, opinions and questions as she goes. By the end of the story, after the narrator (is it Kalman herself, who is an avowed Lincoln aficionado?) has learned about Lincoln's death, the reader has gotten a much fuller appreciation of his humanity as well as Abraham Lincoln's greatness.
There are some things that I find really fascinating about this book. First of all, I love the narrator's emphasis on curiosity and research. She sees the man who reminds her of Lincoln, and that is what sends her directly to the library. She tells readers "Abraham Lincoln was such an amazing man that there are over 16,000 books written about him. I wanted to read them all, but I got lost in photos of his unusual face." The illustration on the facing page shows the narrator, poring over a large portrait of Lincoln. The library is filled with people reading (and one guy sleeping on a book) and learning. It is exactly what librarians hope all readers will do - become enthusiastic about a subject and keep researching and learning.
And while the narrator claims to not be able to read about Lincoln because she is so fixated on his face, the facts she learns and shares form the majority of the book. Another thing that is very unusual about this book is the way Kalman combines facts and fiction in a clear way. She doesn't have to delineate the difference between them - she lets the fonts do it for her. Facts are done in a more typewriterly font, resembling print in a book. Then her opinions or questions about Lincoln are written in a handwriting font. Her questions are fun to read: "I wonder if Mary and Abraham had nicknames for each other." She calls Lincoln's face unusual, calls his wife short and says that his stepmother wasn't as stern as she looks. It brings a light tone to this historical subject and also gives a childlike feel to the book.
Kalman has a very modern illustrative style, and I was very curious about how her style would translate to a historical subject. But it actually works very well. She combines very realistic depictions of the family with other more modern objects or colors. For instance, in a portrait of the Lincoln family, every person looks fairly recognizable, with all of them dressed historically accurately. But some of the children are colored green, which is not as distracting as it sounds. I think her chosen style for this book combines modern with historical, much as Kalman does with the text. It's a well-done book and I recommend it for Lincoln lovers and newcomers alike.
Note: I am on the Cybils Nonfiction Picture Book panel, but this blog post does not represent the committee's thoughts about the book. It only represents my personal ideas and thoughts.
Looking at Lincoln. Maira Kalman. Nancy Paulsen Books: Penguin for Young Readers, 2012.
There is something many of my blog readers may not know about me, and I need to confess it now. I used to work for Colonial Williamsburg. If you don't know about Colonial Williamsburg, go check out the website - among other things, it is one of the biggest living history museums and it is an amazing place. This was a time of my life where I wore a colonial costume to work every day. I told visitors about colonial times, both in my daytime job as a visitor's aide and in my evening job as an interpreter, where I told ghost stories from that time period and gave tours. I loved that job! And for a girl from San Diego, who had been raised on the history of the California missions, it was fascinating to learn more about that time period.
So you might understand why I continue to read books about the time around the Revolutionary War. History came alive for me during my time in Williamsburg, and I like to recognize events I already know something about, and fit that information into the bigger timeline. After working for Colonial Williamsburg, I went on to write my library school master's thesis on Thomas Jefferson's personal library. Am I an expert on Thomas Jefferson? Not even close. In fact, while I knew many of the facts about Thomas Jefferson contained in these two books, I knew very little about his relationship with John Adams. That's where both of these books came in handy.
My first pick is Those Rebels, John & Tom. This book begins with both Thomas Jefferson and John Adams as babies. Kerley sets out to show their differences (and there are many). Sometimes each man has his own page with a few sentences on it (John quite often skipped school, but Tom loved learning and reading). Sometimes, though, the book design features both presidents on one large double-page spread. Then one man takes precedence over the other. For instance, Adams is a debater who loves to argue, and is featured on most of the spread, shouting in the courtroom, while Tom meekly scribbles his ideas at a desk in the far corner of the spread. Both of them have firmly held ideas, but those ideas could not be more different.
Until the time comes to protest against King George's tyranny, that is. At this crucial time in history, both men's differing life experiences bring them to the same breaking point. The American colonies cannot continue on under King George's rule. And from this starting point, the two Founding Fathers begin to come to a mutual understanding and appreciation that eventually helps to create the Declaration of Independence.
Kerley has an infectious way of writing that makes history very readable. She includes the details that make these men interesting to young readers, such as Tom drinking punch in the taverns of Philadelphia. Kerley shows the readers the big picture of this moment in American history without bogging them down. She has a talent for distilling this enormous history into the points that are best told through these men's two contradictory characters. Kerley uses quotes from each man's writing to support her viewpoint of their lives. It helps young readers feel like they are getting to know these historical figures in a very real way. Their lives are so different from ours, but still very human.
I really like this book, and one of the many things I like best about it are the illustrations. Edwin Fotheringham works so well with Kerley's text to depict and expand what's written. Because Kerley has really simplified the text, Fotheringham uses his illustrations to show more of the detail surrounding these men. For instance, Kerley talks about how Thomas Jefferson "lunged, parried, and skewered the policies of King George and his government.". Fotheringham draws Jefferson lunging towards King George, with a bayonet that is really a quill splattering ink all over George. His style is that of an editorial cartoonist, and that brings humor to this story too. As readers mature and learn more sophisticated information about the American Revolution, they will appreciate even more of the detail of these illustrations.
One choice that helps this book feel fresh and modern is the color palette. While other colors are used to highlight or supplement, the primary colors are a sky blue, a rusty red, and a yellow that is almost the color of mustard (I'd love to know what this color is really called!). There is also a deep navy used where you would traditionally see black. These colors are powerful and rich, and even though they feel modern, this book doesn't scrimp on historical accuracy either. Its design, illustrations and text are first-rate.
After I had decided to write about Those Rebels John & Tom, I came across Worst of Friends in our library's catalog, and decided I'd better look at that one, too. What is so interesting is how well these books complement each other. Jurmain looks at some of these men's contradictory personality traits, but she looks at them primarily as adults. She spends very little time talking about the time before the Revolutionary War, where Kerley's book ends with the Declaration of Independence. She moves forward, beginning in 1790. At that time John & Tom had very strong, opposing ideas about how to run the country. John was a Federalist, who believed that the President should have ultimate power to protect the laws and people of the United States. Tom became a Republican who believed that one person should never wield all the power - that the Federalist theory dangerously resembled the British monarchy. But when John became president, Tom was vice president, no matter what they thought of each other's ideas.
In 1800, their feud began when they ran against each other for the office of President, and Jefferson won. They stopped speaking for many years, but finally Adams reached out and mended their rift. The two men agreed to disagree about politics, and instead wrote of many other things in their lives. Their friendship endured until they died on the same day (July 4th) in 1826. This ongoing friendship was truly remarkable.
I think these books work so well together. They both fall squarely in the nonfiction picture book camp. While they both have a lot of information contained within their pages, the text is fairly concise and neither book feels too long. They are both short enough to consider reading aloud, most likely in a classroom setting. While Fotheringham's illustrations are more striking, Day's are traditional, very historically accurate, and with humor in the details. Readers will laugh at Thomas Jefferson, before becoming President, emerging from a women's shop with boxes of corsets for Adams' daughter. Or at Jefferson holding Adams back from fighting with King George after George snubs them both.
But I can't close a post on nonfiction picture books without commenting on their back matter. In Worst of Friends, the "back matter" is actually in the front of the book, where a selected bibliography sits opposite a paragraph entitled "Can Presidents Be Pals?". Those Rebels, John & Tom has much more extensive back matter. Kerley ends the main text with the Declaration of Independence, but she summarizes their lives with a page-long Author's Note. There is a facsimile of the Declaration of Independence across from the Note. Then there is a page full of citations and sources for all of the quotations within the text. This is the kind of back matter I've come to expect in my nonfiction, even for the youngest readers.
Both books gave me a new view of men I had come to know through their contributions to Colonial-era history. I loved getting to know more about their lives and opinions.
Those Rebels, John & Tom. Barbara Kerley; illustrated by Edwin Fotheringham. Scholastic, 2012.
Worst of Friends: Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and the True Story of an American Feud. Suzanne Tripp Jurmain; illustrated by Larry Day. Dutton, 2011.
both books borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library
