Beatrix Potter & the Unfortunate Tale of a Borrowed Guinea Pig

Beatrix Potter really needs no introduction to readers.  Many, many children have read The Tale of Peter Rabbit or any of her other stories.  At this point in Potter's popularity, you can decorate a nursery with bedding and toys based on Potter's illustrations.  You can mention Mr. McGregor in casual conversation, and your listener will know about what that farmer did to Peter Rabbit.  Beatrix Potter crafted these whimsical little books with care and love, and that still shows through today.

Frances and Gloria both went through periods where they wanted to read tons of Beatrix Potter stories.  Surprisingly, we do not own any of the stories, but our library has a special boxed set.  We would check out one or two each visit.  Their tiny size, the charming illustrations and the stories contained within really captivated the girls.  So those memories of time spent with Potter's tales made the girls want to read Deborah Hopkinson's story about Beatrix Potter's childhood.

The story begins with a note written directly to the reader.  It helps set the stage for the story, but telling readers that Beatrix is a young girl at this point, and that her story might keep children from wanting to lend out their pets.  It's definitely an intriguing tactic.  Then Hopkinson goes on to explain that Beatrix (and her younger brother, Bertram) have a wonderful space for themselves in their house, which includes room for their art, their science experiments, and lots of pets.  Beatrix loved animals, and had a collection of them.  At various times there was a frog, a canary, a snake, a turtle, and many, many others.  It seems like a lot of pets, but it wasn't quite enough.  Because Beatrix liked to draw and paint these animals, and "she liked to paint them doing ordinary, everyday things, like reading the newspaper, working in the garden, or taking tea. (And why not?)"  And the problem then is that she wants to paint a picture of a guinea pig.  Of course, guinea pig was not one of the pets I listed above.  So Beatrix has to borrow one.

Beatrix borrows her neighbor's guinea pig, with extravagant promises to bring that guinea pig (whose name is Queen Elizabeth) back in the morning, after the posing is complete.  As Hopkinson comments "The sitting began quite auspiciously.".  Beatrix begins to do her drawing, but is called away to attend a dinner party.  She doesn't put Queen Elizabeth safely away, because she doesn't think she'll be gone long.  But in the time Beatrix is gone, Queen Elizabeth helps herself to paper, string, and paste - all of which are not good for a guinea pig.  When Beatrix returns and sees the mess Queen Elizabeth has made, she doesn't think twice about it.  Instead, she puts Queen Elizabeth back in her cage for the night.  When Beatrix wakes up in the morning, Hopkinson addresses the reader directly again, and points out that the paper, string, and paste are not good for Queen Elizabeth.  That guinea pig is no longer alive.

Beatrix feels terrible that Queen Elizabeth has died, and when she goes to apologize to her neighbor, she brings a painting of the guinea pig that she completed.  Even though the neighbor is so angry, she ends up keeping the painting.  All those years later, that illustration ended up being worth quite a lot of money after Beatrix Potter became famous.  Did it make up for the loss of the guinea pig after all?

First of all, I found the combination of author and illustrator in this book absolutely charming.  Charlotte Voake's illustrations are delicate and sweet, so they echo Potter's very nicely.  But they also have an added touch of modern sensibility and personality.  It is the same with Hopkinson's text.  It mimics Potter's tone, but it has that wink at the reader.  Hopkinson's voice pokes a little bit of fun at the situation.  Even when there is tragedy, such as the guinea pig dying, there is still a moment of brevity.  The format of the book also resembles the small white books that Beatrix Potter and her publisher created.  There are some clever design choices made here.

There are some other good choices made here - the choice to focus on Potter's childhood helps keep someone who is famous relatable to children.  Beatrix seems just like most other children, with their love of pets and wild animals.  There is a lesson told here, about taking care of the animals that you are responsible for, but it doesn't hit readers over the head.  Instead they will be taken by the combination of humor and creativity that are described in these pages.  Hopkinson also has included pages from Potter's own journal to illuminate the predicaments she allowed her pets to get into.  It helps attract a wide range of readers to the story as well.  

Finally, as always, there is some fantastic back matter.  There is a P.S. which gives more information about Beatrix Potter and the story.  Hopkinson also lists some websites where readers can find more pictures of the guinea pig drawing and other Potter artifacts.  Finally, Hopkinson gives notes on this particular story, mentioning what has been taken from other sources and what has been invented.  I think this is an important distinction, particularly in a picture book format.  It helps students who might be using this as a source be able to figure out what is true and what isn't.

I was so lucky to be offered a chance to review this picture book as part of Deborah Hopkinson's blog tour.  I have enjoyed this book very much, and I hope you'll pick it up and learn something new about Beatrix Potter.  We certainly did.

Beatrix Potter & the Unfortunate Tale of a Borrowed Guinea Pig.  Deborah Hopkinson and Charlotte Voake.  Schwartz & wade Books. 2016.

Thanks again to Deborah Hopkinson for appearing.  For other stops on the Beatrix Blog Tour please check deborahhopkinson.com.

The Trouble Begins at 8

This is a rollicking, fun biography of Mark Twain, focusing primarily on the time he spent in Nevada, California and Hawaii.  Fleischman has a great way of writing, and his tone is very well-suited to Twain’s story.  He is pretty careful to point out where there are questions about Twain’s claims, which there are many.  He doesn’t necessarily dispute what Twain says, but he does include quotes from Mark Twain about telling the truth.  I took a class on Mark Twain in graduate school, and I don’t remember much of this information about Mark Twain and his life, but I found it very interesting.  One of the things I found so interesting about his biography was how many get-rich-quick schemes he and his brother were involved in, including mining, a newspaper, and other ideas that lost them both money (of course).   Life then was all about money, how to earn it and stay afloat.  The back matter is very rich, including an excerpt from The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, a timeline of Clemens’ life, references (one of my favorite things for encouraging additional research), and an annotated bibliography.  This book tied in so nicely with the review I did a few weeks ago of Bambino and Mr. Twain - the events of that book happen later in Twain's life.   This was a surprisingly quick read for a biography, and made me want to read more Twain.  On to the next book!

The Trouble Begins at 8: A Life of Mark Twain in the Wild, Wild West - Sid Fleischman.  Greenwillow Books, 2008.

borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library

Bambino and Mr. Twain

Years and years ago, soon after I got my master's degree in library science at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, I went back to school again.  I decided to get a second master's degree in English literature, from Virginia Commonwealth University.  I went part-time, at night, so my class choice was a little limited.  But I loved learning more about critical writing, and reading more literature.  I found most of my classes really interesting.  One of the classes that ended up being an unexpected favorite was a class that focused on the writings of Mark Twain.  I'm sure I originally thought it would only cover his most famous works, and that I could look more closely at The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.  I thought reading those two books again would tie in nicely with my love of children's literature.  Instead, I gained a far more rounded understanding of both Mark Twain the writer and Samuel Clemens the man.

So when Bambino and Mr. Twain showed up on the Cybils Nonfiction Picture Book nomination list, I was definitely looking forward to reading it.  This story takes place in 1904 and 1905.  Mark Twain is a famous, well-loved writer; Samuel Clemens is dealing with his grief over the loss of his wife, Livy.  He is reclusive, staying in his New York City home and not interacting with the public and reporters who wait outside.  He only talks to his housekeeper, his daughter Jean, and his cat Bambino.  The winter drags on, cold and dreary, as Clemens drowns in his sorrow.  Then as spring begins, a window is opened, and Bambino darts out.  Clemens is heartbroken and the family puts an ad in the newspaper, along with a reward for Bambino's return.  The response to the ad is completely overwhelming.  People bring cats of all kinds and descriptions to the Clemens house to help with this newest loss.  They just want to help their beloved "Mark Twain".  When Bambino finally returns, days later, the episode causes Samuel Clemens to realize that "there's a whole world outside of this house to enjoy."  He begins to return to life and his public, all due to his cat.

I found this book really interesting from my own adult perspective.  When the book opens, the entire family is in mourning for their wife and mother.  As I mentioned, Samuel Clemens is the one grieving.  He sees a huge chasm between his writerly persona, Mark Twain, and his own broken heart.  He says to Bambino, "' Everyone wants to meet witty Mark Twain,"..."' would they want to meet sad, old Samuel Clemens?'"  His daughters are also in the midst of their grieving - Clemens' daughter Jean is "growing old before her time." and his other daughter, Clara, is in a clinic, "too upset by her mother's death to be with them."  They are isolated, sad, and falling apart.  The cat is the only sign of energy and life in the home.

And because everyone is so beaten by their emotions, the cat's personality really shines.  Bambino is everywhere, providing distraction and comfort to the family.  When Clemens takes  to his bed, Bambino curls up on papers next to him.  When they half-heartedly celebrate Clemens' birthday, it's Bambino who eats the ice cream.  Bambino is clever, sassy and energetic.  Maltbie does a terrific job depicting the cat - his behavior is familiar to all cat-lovers.  Bambino's personality also gets at the core of the human-cat relationship.  Readers can tell how much Bambino cares for Clemens.  He accompanies Clemens everywhere, including playing billiards with him.

In the author's note at the end of the book, Maltbie explains that while Bambino was the Clemens' family cat, and did go missing in the spring of 1905, "whether Bambino's return really had anything to do with Sam's decision is something only Sam and Bambino would know."  So what Maltbie is indicating here is something discerning readers may have already wondered about: that at least part of this story has been fictionalized.  There is also quite a bit of dialogue in the book, which has also most likely been created by the author, since there are no citations.  Even though the story has been created, there are facts behind it, including that Bambino really did go missing.  So does the fictionalization make this story any less impactful?  I don't think so, in this case.  It is still a very vivid portrayal of grief and a family trying to move forward with their lives. It still rings true, both in their sadness and in the depiction of mischievous Bambino.  I appreciate Maltbie's author's note, with its clear explication of fact and fiction, to help readers distinguish between them.  Maltbie also includes a bibliography of adult biographies, which might help older readers continue to learn about Samuel Clemens and Mark Twain, including one written by his daughter, Clara.

This leads me to my thoughts about the audience of this book.  It is a nonfiction picture book, and it seems at first glance to be appropriate for children in younger elementary grades, just by looking at the length of the text.  However, most young children wouldn't know who Mark Twain was and would be confused by the duality of his personas - both Mark Twain and Samuel Clemens.  Also, the writing is fairly subtle and young readers will miss the grief and the loving relationship with the cat.  It seems like this book might be better used in a classroom where Mark Twain is being studied in-depth.  I also would have loved to have used it when I was taking my graduate-level seminar on the works of Mark Twain.

I haven't addressed Miyares' illustrations at all yet, and they do a terrific job of bringing this story to life.  The combination of mixed media and digital illustrations gives an unusual twist to the feel of this book.  They feel historically accurate and yet modern.  Everything that needs to be historically correct, is - including houses and clothing.  But the rest of the colors and details feel modern and a little more abstract.  The combination works well for this story, combining fact and fiction.  Again, Bambino's personality shines through.  When he returns to the Clemens' house, there is an illustration where the housekeeper scolds Bambino.  His tail quirks, questioning and unrepentant.  As any cat owner has experienced, he is sorry, but not that sorry.

This book is thoughtful and graceful.  It is a real treasure, both for Mark Twain fans and cat owners alike.  Explore it for yourself - it is worth the read.

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.

Bambino and Mr. Twain.  P.I. Maltbie; illustrated by Daniel Miyares.  Charlesbridge, 2012.

borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library

Looking at Lincoln

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.

A Nation's Hope

There are some books we hear about all year long because they've been written by a famous author or illustrator.  There are some books we hear about all year long because they are quirky or are just plain enjoyable.  And there are some books that are mentioned all year long because they are just plain fabulous.  And A Nation's Hope: The Story of Boxing Legend Joe Louis is just plain fabulous.  As an example of its fabulosity, it was just this week named one of the New York Times' Best Illustrated Children's Books of 2011.  It is also a Cybils Non-Fiction Picture Book Nominee, which is why I am reviewing it here.

Full disclosure:  I looked for A Nation's Hope at my public library this summer after hearing its buzz.  The book's status was checked in, but after I put it on hold the library quickly determined that it was lost.  I tweeted about my frustration, and Matt de la Pena did tweet back that he would hunt down the thief for me!  Also, there is a San Diego connection between de la Pena, Nelson and myself - we all at least attended high school there, and Kadir lives there now.  Just some fun facts before I dive into my review...I love how connected we can be with social media!

De la Pena opens this story at Yankee Stadium in 1938.  It is in the middle of the action - the crowd is buzzing and full of excitement.  The crowd is waiting for Joe Louis to fight German Max Schmeling, as we learn in subsequent pages.  This could be confusing for readers who don't know much about Joe Louis and his history.  But it works in this case because de la Pena helps readers cue in to the high energy and excitement.  This sucks readers into this moment in time.  We want to read on and find out why everyone is waiting for this fight to start.  De la Pena balances the tension of the fight (which is billed as the United States against the Nazis) with the story of Joe Louis' life.

There is a lot of weight on Louis' shoulders as he waits to fight - the "weight of history", the weight of the nation's need for him to win, to show Germany their power, the weight of the underdog, the weight of being black in America.  As we examine Joe Louis' life, we see that he also staggered under the weight of other people's expectations (his mother expected him to be a musician) and he also worked through the weight of defeat - working harder and harder every time he lost as an amateur.  What Joe Louis carried on his shoulders was the weight of learning - he learned from every experience and came out of it a better fighter.

De la Pena uses a free verse style to draw readers through the dual stories.  In this style he can give the important facts, the important feelings of the fight without getting weighed down.  He creates a successful mix of sportswriting, biography, poetry and informational text.  Readers will get the historical context while feeling like they are there, waiting for the bell to ring.

There is a good reason why this was named one of the New York Times' 2011 Best Illustrated Children's Books.  Nelson's oils on wood are simply amazing.  One of the most spectacular things he does in this book is his work on black backgrounds.  You would think that the black background would be unmanageable, that it would be difficult to paint light images onto the dark background, but in fact the opposite is true.  The darkness of the background just serves to emphasize the light in the rest of the painting.  One double-page spread is a closeup of Louis' arms and hands in boxing gloves.  His arms glow with sweat and hard work, veins and muscles delineated.  The black background only makes the light source warmer.  The same is true for a painting at the beginning of the fight.  Nelson does the unbelievable, making the lights (which are also black, but give off warm yellow light) stand out from the rest of the dark shadows of the stadium.  Most paintings where Louis is featured are from a perspective slightly below him.  This always makes him look like the hero he was and is.  The art is astonishing.

Now that's not to say that I think this is a perfect book, but it's pretty darn close.  I really missed the back matter for this title.  Because de la Pena's text is so spare and taut, I think that there could have been a bibliography of other recommended titles or source notes.  I would have liked to see notes from the author and illustrator, describing their process or maybe the sources they used to create this portrait of Joe Louis.  I would have even liked to see some other biographical information about Louis - his fight record or when he retired.  All of these, I believe, would help students use this book as a springboard for more research.  But these things don't stand in the way of a great piece of sportswriting at a perilous time in history.  Please take a look at it.  I know you'll be moved by this powerful story.

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 ideas and thoughts.
 
 A Nation's Hope: The Story of Boxing Legend Joe Louis. Matt de la Pena; illustrated by Kadir Nelson.  Dial Books for Young Readers, 2011.

borrowed from Helena School District

Me, Frida

I have slowly but surely been working my way through the award-winning books from last year.  I haven’t written about much of what I’ve read because I feel that my blog’s purpose is to introduce you to books you haven’t seen or heard of before.  But the Pura Belpre winners are a little different.  The information about the award is here.  Especially here in Montana, books about Hispanic culture aren’t easy to find.  I grew up in San Diego, though, so Hispanic culture was a huge part of my upbringing (I even majored in the Spanish language in college!).

So when I saw Me. Frida on the new nonfiction shelf at our public library, I picked it up immediately  (As a side note, have you noticed how often I say we pick things up at the library?  The circulation clerks groan when they see us coming!).  Diaz won a Pura Belpre Illustrator Honor Award for this book, and I’ll talk about those gorgeous paintings in a minute.  First, I’ll focus on the text.

Noresky takes just a moment in Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera’s lives to look at here.  It is 1930, the time when Diego Rivera was invited to go to San Francisco to create a mural celebrating the city.  Frida, who was a young artist, newly married to Rivera, was just beginning to find herself artistically.  What is interesting about Novesky’s choice is that this snapshot of their marriage says so much about them and society at large in the thirties.

One of the biggest themes in this book is inspiration.  When Frida and Diego first arrive in California, they do a lot of exploring.  They look at skyscrapers, the redwoods – all overwhelming, big, towering things.  This is where Diego (who Novesky describes as “big as an elephant”) finds his inspiration.  He thrives on the enormous; Frida is lost in it.  Frida, who paints herself as a small, soaring bird, despairs in all the enormity.  Instead, once Diego begins to work on his mural, she begins to explore the minutiae of San Francisco – the street markets, the neighborhood of Chinatown.  It is the little details – the smells, sounds and colors – that inspire Frida and get her working. 

Even their painting sizes are different – Rivera paints the mural, with all of San Francisco as his subject.  Kahlo begins to paint small portraits, including a portrait of their marriage.  It is clear from the text that although their marriage is slightly unconventional (of course, none of the really salacious details are covered in this picture book biography), there is room for both kinds of inspiration and artistic vision here.  However, their marriage comes up against the conventions of society when they travel to San Francisco.  Where it seems that they see each other as individuals, San Francisco expects to see Mr. and Mrs. Diego Rivera.  At the various events that they attend, Diego is the focus, while Frida stands uncharacteristically quietly by his side.  You can sense the constriction Frida feels – unable to express herself and be recognized for her own worth.  There is a defining moment, when American society first recognizes Frida for herself, and then her painting is chosen for exhibition.  This is when Frida finally begins to soar.

When we speak of inspiration and artistic vision in this book, Diaz’s artistic vision is just as much of a force as Kahlo’s.  The paintings are vibrant with backgrounds streaked and crackling with rich paint.  His choice of primed linen for the foundation of these paintings gives texture, contrasting with all the dark lines and streaks of color.  This use of texture is something I admire when looking at paintings in books.  You can almost feel the texture under your fingers, inviting you deeper into the painting. 

Diaz uses Kahlo and Rivera’s styles as guides here, so a reader familiar with their art will feel instantly at home.  The cover portrait of Frida is recognizable and iconographic, mimicking many of her self-portraits.  Diaz’s imaginative art also uses motifs from their work within his paintings, to give even more depth to readers’ knowledge about these two influential artists.  It is amazing to me that Diaz can meld his own style so effortlessly with Kahlo and Rivera’s styles, paying homage to them and staying distinctive. 

I strongly believe this will have a place both in arts and programs and in studies about Mexican art and culture.  But even if neither of these things are of interest to you, pick up this book to see a young artist growing into herself , creating art full of life and love.

Me, Frida.  Amy Novesky; illustrated by David Diaz.  Abrams Books for Young Readers, 2010.

Borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library

The Humblebee Hunter

Some years it happens that I read multiple books on a given subject.  It's not always purposeful - sometimes the blogosphere is talking about a book, or my library's Mock Awards list includes a particular book, and then suddenly I've accumulated several books on a topic.  Last year there were two topics that I read fairly widely on - civil rights and Charles Darwin.  So, having already read Charles and Emma (Deborah Heiligman) and Kathryn Lasky's One Beetle Too Many under my belt, I was ready to start The Humblebee Hunter.
The story is told from Charles' daughter's point of view.  Henrietta is stuck in the kitchen learning to bake at the beginning of the story, but she really longs to be outside with her father.  Etty tells readers little snippets about Darwin, his questioning nature and his methods, giving children a vague understanding of his life.  What readers will take away from this story is his enthusiasm for children and those children's involvement in what looks like a fun research project. Darwin's children each identify a bumblebee and observe it buzzing from flower to flower for one minute to count the number of flowers it visits.  The book ends with an arresting full-page illustration which completes the book in a strong manner.  

Deborah Hopkinson is known for writing fictionalized picture-book-style biographies of historical figures, including my favorite of her books, Maria's Comet (I lived on Nantucket for two years).  This book follows in the same style - the subtitle clearly states "inspired by the life and experiments of Charles Darwin and his children".  There are notes at the end to give additional information on Darwin and his family, which I always appreciate.  However, I find it confusing that there is no explanation of why Darwin and his children call the bees "humblebees" until the very end of the note on the Darwin family.  And that mention does not identify whether that is a nickname the family created or a British word for bee.  To be fair, there doesn't seem to be another likely place to put this information - but while reading I spent a lot of time distracted by the name.  I do think this would be a great introduction to Charles Darwin to begin a unit of study - it humanizes him and includes his family in his scientific work.

While I really liked the plot of The Humblebee Hunter, I loved the illustrations.  Jen Corace has also illustrated for Amy Krouse Rosenthal and the newer Disney picture book version of Hansel and Gretel, but I think her illustrations are a perfect match for the text.  I believe the illustrations are done in watercolor and ink (as a reviewer, I really miss the description of the artistic process when it is omitted from the front matter), and the colors are terrific.  Etty wears a distinctive teal color which makes her really pop from the pages.  The colors and faces are reminiscent of 1950's art, but in a lovely, moody way.  There are a variety of illustrations - spot, single page and double-page spreads to catch children's eyes.

Except for the quibble of the Humblebee's name, this book really added to my understanding of Charles Darwin and his family.  I'd recommend it for reading to children ages 6 through 9, but it could be used as supplementary material in almost any grade's study of Darwin.  Well done.