Eggs 1,2,3: Who Will the Babies Be?

Summer sped by for me - how about for you?  Some things in our lives stay the same all summer.  Gloria is in a year-round preschool/daycare, and obviously our general schedule each week stays the same.  But in Montana, summer is so short, and we took advantage of it this summer by packing in swim lessons, tending our vegetable garden, and outdoor time.  One thing we have enjoyed doing each summer is taking part in our local library's summer reading program.  It's called "Four to Score", and we record the titles and what we liked best about four books to earn a prize.  The sheet asks for three fiction books and one nonfiction title.  The librarians tell us that young children don't actually have to read nonfiction.  But you know me - I am such a nonfiction lover, and I want to read nonfiction with the girls.

It isn't always easy to find nonfiction that appeals to Gloria, though.  At 4 1/2, she is doing some reading on her own (Dinosaur vs. the Library was one she read to her preschool class recently), and she has pretty limited interest in the subjects Frances wants to read about.  Also, much of the nonfiction that Frances checks out is too long and detailed for Gloria.  So when Eggs 1,2,3 came up in my blog pile last week, I was really excited to share it with both Frances and Gloria.

When I first got Eggs 1,2,3: Who Will the Babies Be? as a nomination for the Cybils last year, I couldn't wait to read it.  I had reviewed Janet Halfmann's previous Cybils nomination, Star of the Sea  and all of us loved it.  So I had a feeling that we would all like this one too.  And the rest of the Nonfiction Picture Book panel agreed, making this a finalist for the Nonfiction Picture Book award.  Sadly, it didn't win, but I'd like to focus on why this is a perfect preschool-level book.

Eggs 1,2,3: Who Will the Babies Be? combines several ways of looking at information in a format that's very accessible for young children.  First of all, the book is a counting book.  Each double-page spread has an enormous number on the left-hand side of the page, corresponding to the number of eggs on that spread.  On the first page, Halfmann sets the tone.  There is a sentence describing the egg and its habitat.  Then she asks the reader to guess "Who will the baby be?"  Young readers can look at the illustration on the opposite page for clues.  Again, Thompson has carefully considered the readers and given fairly obvious indications of the answer.  Then they can open a sturdy flap to reveal the answer.  The number is repeated inside the flap: "5 wiggly glowworms, their tiny tails shining, growing up to be fireflies."  The eggs increase in number from 1 to 10.  And the number of eggs is appropriate for each animal, bird or reptile, which is no easy feat.  At the end of the book, there is one last chance to count all the eggs, and inside the flap, all the babies.

The book seems deceptively simple.  But Halfmann and Thompson are working some real magic here.  First of all, the sentence that gives clue to the egg's inhabitant including important information for the reader.  Those sentences might divulge details about the creature's habitat "a land of ice and snow", what the egg looks like "tiny and round", and whether the parents are involved.  The illustrations are crucial to helping readers identify the baby, and those might include details of the parents or habitat as well.  The eggs, too, are always prominent.  Once the flap is opened then readers see the babies once they hatch, as well as learning their identity and the specific name of the baby, if applicable: "6 babies called fry, eating, eating, eating, and soon they are fish".

There are many things I like about this book, and one of those things is its suitability for many audiences.  It's a natural learning tool whether used in small groups or read with a parent. But it comes alive when used in a storytime.  Listeners can participate by giving the numbers, counting the number of eggs and babies and guessing who might be inside the egg.  It is also a nonfiction book that reads more like a story.  The information has been incorporated into this format so seamlessly, which makes me appreciate the effort that must have gone in to writing this text.  

Finally, one of the best things about the book is the design.  The flaps are extremely sturdy and will hold up to repeated (and rough) readings.  The flaps also open in different directions to keep the experience interesting and fresh.  

One other thing I'd like to mention about this book is that there is no back matter in this title.  While I usually look very carefully at the back matter, this is one title where it is appropriate not to have back matter.  Halfmann has included enough detail for preschoolers in the actual text.  Young children don't need to use a bibliography as a jumping-off point for additional research.  They've been given everything they need already, and I admire the simplicity here.

The illustrations are collaged, with textured papers and layered cut-paper assemblies.  The art walks a fine line between realism and collage very successfully.  The collaged elements add depth to the pictures, but Thompson is careful to use natural colors and replicate the creatures exactly.  The eggs look very real as well, and you can almost feel their exteriors as you look at the pages.  The turtle eggs look tough and leathery; the tadpole eggs really seem encased in shimmering jelly.

This is such a terrific book.  The eggs are fascinating, and so are the animals that lay them.  Halfmann and Thompson have done a masterful job bringing the topic to life for the youngest readers.  I highly recommend it!

Eggs 1,2,3: Who Will the Babies Be? Janet Halfmann; art by Betsy Thompson.  Blue Apple Books, 2012.

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.

sent by the publisher in consideration for the Cybils

North: The Amazing Story of Arctic Migration

Last week I traveled for work.  It was a short, four-day trip to DC for a conference.  But I still had a lot to do to get ready for that trip.  I had to pack up Frances and Gloria to stay with their dad for the week, including leotards, swimsuits and soccer uniforms.  I packed my suitcase, arranged for a pet-sitter for our cat, and traveled for about twelve hours each way.  It was a lot of work to leave home for four days, but nothing like what the animals of the world go through to get to the Arctic.

I suspect that most people picture the Arctic as I did before I read North - a cold, frigid, forbidding place where perhaps only polar bears and Santa Claus feel at home.  In reality, there are four seasons in the Arctic, including a glorious summer.  And, incredibly, animals and wildlife travel for thousands of miles to arrive in the Arctic during the summer.

Dowson sets the stage for this migration by describing the deepest winter.  During that time of year, "even the seas freeze deep" (p. 4).  But eventually the winter ebbs, and the polar bears and arctic foxes are no longer the only Arctic inhabitants.  It begins with warmer seas as spring evolves.  Algae bloom under the ice, and plants grow as the ice melts and recedes.  As the spring continues animals begin their treck toward the Arctic in what Dowson terms "THE GREATEST JOURNEY ON EARTH!" (p. 11).

There are tons of animals, birds and other wildlife on this incredible journey.  Gray whales travel for eight weeks up through the Pacific Ocean without eating.  Terns fly to the Arctic all the way from the bottom of the world in Antarctica.  Snow geese fly from Mexico, caribou travel from Canada, walrus swim up the coast of Alaska.  "By late May, travelers crowd together near the very top of the world." (p. 36)  And summer has finally arrived, just in time.  "Tundra flowers grow rainbow-bright, the calm air hums with summer bees...New life is everywhere." (p. 40).  Animals have risked their lives, traveled unceasingly, gone without food to reach the Arctic at precisely this moment.  And their seasonal cycle will continue until September, when winter begins to descend again.  Next spring, most of these animals will begin this journey again.

This book was on the Cybils nominations list for Non-fiction Picture Books, and one of the panelists really loved this book.  When I first looked at it, I liked the illustrations, and was struck by their crystalline beauty.  Benson uses mostly blues and whites in these illustrations, all in a limited palette.  There is also cream added, particularly as the summer begins, and some accents of black and gray.  The blue, almost a greenish teal, reflects off the frigid waters and the ice.  White isn't used just for the ice and glaciers, but striates the walrus' thick skin and delineates the feathers of the terns' wings.  The illustrations are highly realistic, but also majestic.  One of my favorite illustrations takes place along the gray whale's journey.  A young gray whale swims up the Pacific.  The top half of the double page spread shows the whale passing Los Angeles; in the bottom half she surfaces near the Golden Gate Bridge.  The light is golden in Los Angeles as skyscrapers and hotels stand witness to her journey.  In San Francisco, a mother, her child and their dog monitor the whale's progress.  I love the way this page is divided.  It spreads across both pages, making the reader sense the enormity of the journey.  Many of the pages are divided in a variety of ways, keeping the action of migration fresh and compelling.  There are close-up illustrations that show the stress of the trip on some of the wildlife, some illustrations that show the expanse of the Arctic.

These illustrations match so well with the text.  Dowson's writing is poetic, yet conveys the information clearly and concisely.  I was surprised at how much I learned from this book, which seems relatively simple on the surface.  This takes a very unique look at migration and its impact on the Arctic.  As he describes herrings on their journey, Dowson writes "With bright scales like mirrors, they swerve together, fin by fin." (p. 33).  It is gorgeous, emphasizing the awesome journey these animals undertake.

As for back matter, there is a note giving more information about the Arctic.  The note also asks readers to consider global warming and its impact on this migration.  There are also some websites on the Arctic, a glossary, and an index.  While this story makes my trip to DC seem minute in comparison, it does an amazing job explaining the migration of this group of animals, fish and birds for a summer in the Arctic, just where they all want to be.  This book does a terrific job of detailing the greatest journey on Earth.

North: The Amazing Story of Arctic Migration.  Nick Dowson; illustrated by Patrick Benson.  Candlewick Press, 2011.

sent by the publisher for consideration for Cybils

Note: I was on the Cybils nonfiction picture book panel, but this blog post only reflects my personal ideas and  thoughts on this book.

Freedom Song

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.

Minette's Feast

It is interesting to me how sometimes related books come into your life.  Does this ever happen to you?  You read a fictional book set in South Africa, for instance, and then you come across an informational book on Desmond Tutu.  Or you pick up two seemingly unrelated books from your library's new books shelf and they have a historical figure in common.  That happened to me not that long ago when I read Dodger (a Printz Honor winner) and Splendors and Glooms (a Newbery Honor winner) and found the same character (a historical figure) in both.  I love when connections between books reveal themselves.  This year while I was on the Cybils Nonfiction Picture Book panel, it happened again.  Two picture books on Julia Child were nominated - Bon Appetit! by Jessie Hartland and the book I am going to write about today, Minette's Feast.

When the books arrived in the mail, I couldn't wait to read them.  After all, I discovered Julia Child at about the same time everyone else did - when the book Julie and Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously came out.  My then-husband bought it for me since it combined some of my loves - cooking, reading and blogging.  I continued to read about Julia's life over the years, and couldn't wait to see how it was interpreted for children.

But then I began to wonder if children would sustain the same interest in the subject of Julia Child as I had.  After all, I was interested in how Julia learned to cook, her cool job during WWII, and her connection with France.  Would a child (remember these are nonfiction picture books) be interested in any of that?  If Gloria and Frances are any indication, they don't care how their food is made or what technique I used, just that it is served in a timely fashion!  I don't have a good sense of whether kids really would seek out books about Julia Child, but I suspect not.  So Reich uses a different point of view to examine Child's life - through the eyes of her cat.

Even before Minette comes to live with Julia and her husband, their life in Paris is full of cats.  When they walk down the road, cats peek out of the alley; they curl up on seats in the cafe.  And then the couple decides that "A house without a cat is like life without sunshine" and adopt Minette.

When Minette first comes to live with them, Julia isn't a cook.  And that is fine with Minette, who would prefer to hunt her own birds and mice to eat.  But soon Julia becomes inspired by living in France, exploring the markets and getting advice from the locals.  She wants to really learn to cook, and enrolls at Le Cordon Bleu.  All of the enticing smells are alluring to Minette, but ultimately Minette prefers mouse.  Then one day Julia brings home a large cut of meat.  As she prepares it, Minette shows interest, perching on Julia's shoulder while she cooks.  It develops its flavor on the windowsill for three whole days.  Julia serves the meat to dinner guests who rave over it.  When all the leftovers are finally gone, Minette gets what she's been waiting for - the bone!  She rubs on the bone, chews on the bone, and plays with the bone.  In the end, no matter how much Minette loves that bone, though, she would still rather eat mouse.

Reich's writing brings life and rhythm to the story.  Many of the cooking terms are alliterative, and lend a swinging rhythm to the reader's voice.  For instance, as Julia learns to cook, "She baked and blanched, blended and boiled, drained and dried, dusted and fried."  It's quite a feat to assemble a dinner, and this particular combination of words emphasizes the whirlwind effort Julia goes through.  Reich also uses the terms appropriately and the rhymes make them fun to say.

The same thing happens when Minette is given the bone, with a tiny bit of meat left on.  She sniffs, then pounces, then attacks: "She frisked and flounced, darted and batted.  She tiptoed and hopped, danced and pranced."  Here, too, Reich uses lists of words to convey movement.  The words flow together effortlessly, like a dance.  You can envision Minette (or any cat, really) attacking, prancing and hopping.  These are typical cat behaviors that any cat owner will be familiar with.  After all of Minette's effort, "she licked herself all over and took a nice long nap".  That sentence is all cat!  

My only complaint about the writing is that this mysterious cut of meat that Julia prepares for three days is never named in the text.  We can tell that the meat is delicious - not only do the guests rave about the meat, but Julia and Paul savor the leftovers for days before Minette gets the bone.  We see Julia preparing the meat - both rubbing it with herbs and spices before its time on the windowsill and cooking it with vegetables.  But this recipe is never named (nor is any other).  Child's techniques are described, but it seems like this would be an appetizing place for a recipe.

Minette is the star of the illustrations too.  Bates creates these in pencil and watercolors, and they are fairly realistic.  I've talked before about books with historical figures in them (like The Fantastic Jungles of Henri Rousseau) and Bates does a great job of drawing Julia Child and giving readers the impression of her personality without perfectly imitating her.  This allows Bates to work within her own style, but still give a feeling of authenticity to her illustrations.  And she also adds period detail, bringing France to life for readers.

Bates also does a terrific job of conveying Minette's personality through her illustrations.  In the scene at the end of the story, when Minette attacks the bone, there are a multitude of spot illustrations scattered across the page.  You can clearly see the frenzy of activity, legs akimbo and whiskers twitching.  Minette's movements are hilarious and very realistic.  The final full-page spread shows Minette eye to eye with a mouse clutching a crumb of cheese.  It encapsulates Minette's personality perfectly.

The back matter is rich in this book.  There is a two page afterword that summarizes Child's life.   Reich includes notes of all the citations for the quotes used in the story - she used quite a few, and I love seeing them treated seriously here.  There are also additional sources of information on Child's life, including a link to an online exhibit of Child's home.  And there is a glossary and pronunciation guide for many French  terms used in the story.  I didn't talk about it, but I really appreciated the way Reich not only used many French phrases and vocabulary, but also incorporated their definitions in context very naturally.

The last piece of back matter is very important to me.  It gives the author's personal connection to the story - Reich met Julia Child in 1993.  But it also explains why Reich created this story, and how she used Minette to make the story more relatable to children.  Reich notes "...Julia never actually said that Minette preferred mouse."  So some of this story is fictionalized, but I still think it does a good job of bringing the unusual aspects of Child's time in France to life for children.  I am still not wholly convinced that a child would request a book about Julia Child, but this one does combine facts with fictional elements in a natural way.  And its strong back matter satisfies my expectations for children wanting to continue their research.  It's a book that will stay in my collection of books about Julia Child.

Minette's Feast: The Delicious Story of Julia Child and her Cat.  Susanna Reich; illustrated by Amy Bates.  Abrams, 2012.

sent by the publisher for  Cybils consideration

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.

Care For Our World

These last few weeks have been full of exciting holidays in Frances' Kindergarten class.  There was Earth Day, then Arbor Day before May Day came along.  She and the rest of her class are now very focused on recycling, becoming environmentally savvy and saving the earth.  Sometimes the message is a little garbled : "Mama, did you know that driving around town kills trees?"  "If you don't recycle your paper, animals will die."  But I can't fault her for her earnest words and the lesson she is trying to teach us.  And so it was a perfect time to introduce Care for Our World.

Care for Our World was nominated in the Nonfiction Picture Book category for the Cybils.  In the front jacket flap, a Punch-Out Play Set is advertised that comes with most copies of the book.  We did not receive the play set as part of our review process (it's sadly but reasonably against the rules), but I selfishly want that Punch-Out Play Set - it comes with a habitat box and animals to punch out, and it looks like so much fun!  Perhaps more fun for me to set up and play with than Frances and Gloria, but maybe not!  Gloria particularly is very interested in that kind of play.

We have read this book over and over in our house because of its ties to Frances' current curriculum.  It is a rhyming exhortation to young children to take care of the many, many things in our world.  Robbins asks children to care for each other, flowers, grass, the animals, fish and bugs.  I like the emphasis Robbins places on teamwork - that children cannot do this alone or just with one friend.  They must all come together to save Earth.  I also like that Robbins doesn't just value the animals, plants, and nature of our planet, she also emphasizes the value of supporting and caring for each other.

The rhyming text flows very naturally.  Each page follows a similar pattern - mostly a list of things children can and should care about.  Each page's list is organized into categories.  There is a spread about Australian animals - emus, kangaroos and wallabies; another page features fish, crabs and sharks.  This makes it easy for young readers to see these groups in their natural habitats, interacting with children and each other.

One of the things I love most about this books is its illustrations.  As I have noted before, I wish the illustrative style was noted in the CIP information in the front of the book.  There is certainly textured paper used in the illustrations, though, and it subtly reinforces the environmental theme.  Each double-page spread includes two children who are learning to care for their world.  On a page with a list of pets, a boy is cradling a hamster, and a girl is feeding a turtle and fish in a pond.  The children are observing nature, gently and with intention.  Their faces are friendly and open.  All of the animals, too, are friendly, cuddling with the children and other animals.  

There is only one illustration that I questioned.  The text on the page reads in part "...for black bears with cubs in deep winter sleep."  While part of the illustration does show a cut-away of bears hibernating in a den, there is no snow to indicate winter at all.  In fact, on the left-hand side of the page, the boy paddles his feet in a small pond - something that would never happen in winter.

But the illustrations and book design are elegant without being too sophisticated for young readers.  In fact the whole book is perfectly aimed at bringing environmental awareness to young readers.  I could easily see it being used in Kindergarten classes at this time of the year.  We've used it to talk about caring for animals as well as the earth, since the past few weeks Frances has focused on the environment.  It helps young children, who are very self-centered, realize the sheer number of other things on the Earth which need their help.

One drawback to this book is that there is no back matter - something that would help this book extend further in a classroom.  While Robbins is bringing nature and our world to children's attention, it would have been useful to provide a list of resources or ways children could help care for their world.  There are many things that could have been added to the book, including additional information about the animals in the book or information about endangered species.  Back matter would move this from picture book more solidly into nonfiction.

This book is still impactful for young children, even without the additional resources.  They can realize their efforts and how they can help care for our world.  It can be a conversation-starter for families and classes alike.  It can help spur young children into action.

Care for Our World.  Written by Karen Robbins; illustrated by Alexandra Ball.  Compendium, 2011.

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.

The Fantastic Jungles of Henri Rousseau

I am still trying to catch up with blog posts for some of the titles that were nominated in the Cybils nonfiction picture book category, but didn't make the cut for one reason or another.  I have had a whole pile of books to blog about.  I've already written about Looking for Lincoln and Bambino and Mr. Twain.  I still have a few more to call your attention to, so I am going to try to finish those posts up in the next couple of weeks.  I've been working on a huge writing-intensive project at my day job for the past few weeks, and that has really sapped my desire to write anywhere else.  But the biggest part of that project is complete, so I'll turn my attention back to children's books, where it belongs.

The Fantastic Jungles of Henri Rousseau was nominated for a Cybil.  It interested me because I am very aware of books for children about famous artists.  First of all, I think it is incredibly tricky to describe the artistic process in a clear, concise way for children.  I also recognize the difficulty in creating art that gives readers a strong impression of the artist's work without copying it or resorting to photographs of the artist's work.  Illustrators also should maintain their own style while showing readers the artist's way of creating.

Henri Rousseau has a fascinating life story.  He didn't start painting until he was forty.  And even then, Rousseau was self-taught.  Markel says "Not a single person has ever told him he is talented."  But he loves nature, and wants to express his love and how nature makes him feel.  Clearly, the way he sees nature is very different from the traditional way others see art and nature.  But Rousseau uses the traditional artists to educate himself about art and anatomy.  He takes his education into his own hands, going to the Louvre and looking at art wherever he can find it.

Rousseau then takes an enormous risk by exhibiting his paintings at a major competition.  He is laughed at, but Rousseau doesn't take it to heart.  He keeps on working, thinking, viewing art and submitting his creations.  He isn't disgraced once, or even twice, but multiple times.  For more than twenty years, Rousseau only hears criticism of his vision, but he continues on.  I cannot even imagine the perseverance Rousseau had, the drive and the belief in his own art that he displayed.

Finally, Rousseau's strength and creativity are rewarded.  He is around long enough to impress a whole new generation of artists, including Picasso.  At the end of the book, Markel calls him "one of the most gifted self-taught artists in history", and it is true.  For much of his life, Rousseau only had his art.  He was extremely poor.  His art is what carries him.  "Every morning", Markel writes, "he wakes up and smiles at his pictures."  It is a compelling picture of the creative impetus, how it feeds Rousseau despite the criticism.

One of the things that struck me about this picture book was Markel's writing.  There are some gorgeous descriptive passages in this book.  When Markel is describing Rousseau's love of nature, she says that "it's like the flowers open their hearts, the trees spread their arms, and the sun is a blushing ruby, all for him."  Some of these passages are so well put together, they create a word picture of Rousseau's creative spark.  She perfectly describes Rousseau's vision of the world around her.  And Markel also does a good job of relating this artist, admittedly unique, to her young, contemporary readers.  She talks about how Rousseau doesn't give up, year after year, on what he thinks is beautiful.  Markel says "Sometimes Henri is so startled what he paints that he has to open the window to let in some air."  Beautifully written, and yet it gives readers the sense that creativity can be mysterious, too.

Hall's paintings are just as compelling and mysterious.  As I said previously, I recognize the challenge of creating pictures that give a sense of the artist's unique style without totally mimicking the artist.  And in any book that depicts an artist's life, not every illustration should be in that artist's style anyway - some illustrations usually show their actual life, if that makes sense.  Not every part of their life needs to be seen through the filter of their art.  But Hall does a great job of combining Rousseau's style with other, more realistic visions of his life.  There are paintings where Rousseau's artistic vision literally comes to life.  The jungle he creates includes a tiger leaping off the easel, tropical birds soaring around his room.  Art experts perch incongruously on a sharply pointed mountain range.  Hall's paintings are richly imaginative, giving readers a taste of Rousseau's work.

There is very little back matter in this book.  There is a column-long author's note with a few additional facts about Rousseau.  The only dates of Rousseau's life are included here (Markel mentions the 1889 World Fair, but there is no context of Rousseau's life in that date either).  There is a short description of some of Hall's choices when creating the paintings.  There is also a key to two paintings that include other famous historical figures.  This key only lists their names, though, which might make any connection for young readers more challenging.  I am not sure how many young readers are familiar with Gertrude Stein, for instance.  

But while the back matter is a little lacking, I think this is a thoughtful look at one man's desire to create art, no matter what anyone else says.

The Fantastic Jungles of Henri Rousseau.  Written by Michelle Markel; illustrated by Amanda Hall.  Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2012.

sent by the publisher for Cybils consideration

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.

Traveling Photographer Series

I love Cybils season for so many reasons.  One of those reasons is my exposure to books I would never have experienced on my own.  I have been on the Nonfiction Picture Book panel two years in a row, and both years I have read and blogged about books that are unusual.  One of those books this year was The Story of Silk: From Worm Spit to Woven Scarves.  When I first picked it up, I believed it would be about the science of making silk.  As I began to read, I realized this was more a book about a village, a culture, and a craft.  As I read further in the book, I became more intrigued by the story of this village in Thailand, where Richard Sobol had previously written and photographed another book in his Traveling Photographer series, The Life of Rice: From Seedling to Supper.  I wanted to know more about the village, and fortunately, my library carried The Life of Rice, so I could explore this country more.

Sobol originally travels to Thailand to help protect Thai wildlife.  As he traveled the country on that assignment, he began to become aware of the fields of rice he was traveling through, and initially looks at them as a photographer.  He is attracted to the strong colors and textures of the fields, the contrast with the villagers who work in those fields.  Then he is invited to an official royal event- the Royal Plowing Ceremony.  This ceremony kicks off the rice-growing season, and while it is ceremonial and symbolic, it is also very important to the Thai people.  The king scatters royal seeds and the families quickly gather the seeds, along with the soil, to replant in their own fields.

In this book, Sobol focuses on the Issan province, and on the jasmine rice that is grown there.  He describes the process from planting through harvesting, threshing, hulling and selling.  He details how for many Thai families, this is their business - children come after school to help weed and tend to the rice fields, while the adults work all day long.  For almost every family, this is a very labor-intensive, manual process.  Only the richest farmers can afford to rent a combine, but that is only used in one part of this cycle.  The rest of it - planting, transplanting, weeding, etc., is all done by hand, bent over in the fields.  At the end of the season, families sell off most of their crop, saving only a few bags for their food for the rest of the year.  However, no part of the rice plant goes to waste.  The rice stalks are used for cooking fuel, in their gardens, or as food for their livestock.

In the preface to The Story of Silk, Sobol describes how he returned to Thailand with copies of The Life of Rice, to share it with the people of Issan province.  He goes to Thailand at a different time of year than his previous trip, and realizes that there is a whole new industry taking place at that time of year - silk-making.  Rice cannot grow during the dry season, and so he begins to investigate another fascinating craft.  Sobol begins with the silkworm (did you know it's not really a worm?) which must eat mulberry leaves constantly for 28 days.  Again, the process of creating silk is labor-intensive and requires the help of the entire village.  The leaves must be replaced regularly, worms must be covered so they don't get too hot, worm cocoons must be cleaned carefully... Sobol does a great job of getting into the details of the process that will interest young readers without overwhelming them with the individual tasks.  And there are many more tasks in this book that will be good for a horrified groan from readers - silkworms are boiled and eaten (again, as in the rice cycle, nothing is wasted).  By the end of the book, readers have gained a real appreciation for the hard work behind what is presented to us as consumers.  They may not look at a bag of rice in the grocery store in the same way again, and may take more of an interest in the fabric their clothes are created from.

Of course, in a series called "Traveling Photographer", the photographs are remarkable.  The colors are rich and vibrant, and Sobol's photographs help define and delineate the text.  But where I think Sobol has a real gift is in conveying some of the Thai culture simply through documenting their work.  You can see clothing, houses, family relations, royalty and more through his lens.  He doesn't just show their livelihood, but also their lives.  The books are full of photographs, which lend life to the text.  Every page has at least one photograph on it, and many have two or three photographs to help readers envision what they are reading about.  Sobol has a sense for what readers would need clarification on, or have curiosity about, and that is what he photographs.

While both books focus on the same province of Thailand, they have very different tones.  In the first book, Sobol mentions how he travels the province to document the rice growing in the fields.  It is well described and documented, but there isn't a lot of detail about the people he meets on the trip.  It is constructed as a narrative, and you get the story of rice through the text and see the Thai culture shown more in the photos.  But in The Story of Silk, Sobol focuses on one village and that village comes to life both in photos and text.  He describes giggling young girls who tell him they will be the supermodels of silk.  Sobol writes about the men of the village, who laugh as they eat the boiled silkworms with red pepper sauce.  And he retells a weaving lesson given by a village woman named Auntie.  The book is more alive than The Life of Rice, although the first book only suffers in contrast.  They are both compelling stories, I just prefer the inclusion of the village life in the second book.

Both books include facts about rice and silk and a glossary with English and Thai words at the end of the book.  The Life of Rice also includes a list of rice-related holidays throughout the year and the translations of some Thai rice dish names, although no descriptions of the dishes.  These books give readers a sense of the real work behind products they experience on a regular basis.  But even more valuable to me is the very natural way these books become about Thai culture.  Taken together, Sobol has created a durable image of the Thai year, and how it centers around these simple, yet challenging industries.

The Life of Rice: From Seedling to Supper. (Traveling Photographer).  Richard Sobol.  Candlewick Press, 2010.
The Story of Silk: From Worm Spit to Woven Scarves. (Traveling Photographer).  Richard Sobol.  Candlewick Press, 2012.

Life of Rice borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library; Story of Silk sent by publisher as part of the Cybils panel.

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

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.

Cybils Panelist

I am so excited to post here that I will be a Cybils panelist for the Nonfiction Picture Book award again this year.  If you don't know about the Cybils, it is a group of awards for multiple types of books, given to the books that best combine literary merit and kid appeal.  The panelists and judges for this awards are children's and young adult book bloggers.  This group has a ton of expertise and a ton of enthusiasm.  It is fun to read for all of these awards, but as you can guess, I have a special spot in my heart for Nonfiction Picture Books.  While I liked them before last fall, I really fell in love with them over the course of my reading.  I read more than seventy books last year, and can't wait to read more!

If you are wondering about this procedure, it goes like this: between October 1st and October 15th, you can nominate books to be considered.  Rules are available at the Cybils website as the nomination period is opened.  Then the first round panelists (of which I am one), begin reading.  We read everything that is nominated, folks!  Then beginning around Christmas, we begin debating.  The panelists look at books and discuss them together, trying to narrow the books down to a shortlist.  The shortlist is passed on to the second round judges, who come up with a final winner in each category by Valentine's Day.

It is an incredibly fulfilling process for me, and I cannot wait to get started again.  You will be seeing reviews of some of the books I love as the fall goes on (last year I reviewed books here, here, and here, among others).  I will use the same post labels as I did last year - Cybils and Non-fiction picture books - if you are interested in looking at all of the related posts.  I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I will!

Diego Rivera

I know I have said before how important I think Hispanic literature is for children, and I've brought your attention to several books (including The Cazuela the Farm Maiden Stirred).  I find that there isn't always a lot of attention brought to these books, and I want to make sure I do my part.  That's why I was so excited to see Diego Rivera on my Cybils Non-Fiction Picture Book nomination list.  I had also seen it mentioned previously on some of my regular blogs, but hadn't been able to get my hands on it.  So when it finally landed in my mailbox as part of the Cybils, I was thrilled!!  And then it won the Pura Belpre Award for Illustration in the ALA Youth Media Awards announcements.  And now I can't wait to share it with you!

This book is not your traditional biography, and Duncan Tonatiuh shows a deft, sure hand while describing Rivera's life.  He chooses to focus almost exclusively on Rivera's artistic life in this book, so there is no mention of (or place for) his equally famous wife, Frida Kahlo.  It's an interesting counterpoint to Me, Frida, which I reviewed here last year.  However, Tonatiuh find a way to include detail about Rivera's interests and life without overwhelming the reader.  The text is brief and clear.  Young readers will have no problem following the line of thought.  One of the things I admire most about Tonatiuh's writing  is the way he defines artistic styles within his text.  The definitions are concise, natural and contextual.  For instance, "There he learned the classical way to paint, which means his finished paintings looked very realistic, almost like photographs." (p. 2)  The tone keeps this accessible, so readers won't stumble over unfamiliar terms.

But what makes this book feel very fresh and intriguing is indicated in the subtitle: His World and Ours.  After the biographical part of the book, Tonatiuh asks readers to imagine what Rivera would find culturally significant and inspiring in today's society.  This question requires those readers to not only look critically at our society, but to apply what they have learned previously about Diego Rivera as well.  What interested him in his own society?  This takes passively learned knowledge to the next level.  It also makes the book applicable to any grade child or almost any classroom.  It's just as useful in a social studies unit as an art classroom or a history lesson on Mexico.  This book is incredibly flexible.

Then Tonatiuh takes this concept up another notch.  He compares our society to Rivera's paintings in side-by-side comparisons, cleverly positioning contemporary people to seem like those from the past.  After all, as he notes, "Diego's murals teach us about the past.  But they also show a better future for common people." (p. 28)  This is a textually strong book, and it also has great informative back matter.  It includes a well-written glossary, an author's note with expanded biographical information, bibliography, and a list of places you can see Rivera's work, both in and outside of the United States.

I haven't really talked about the illustrations so far in the review, but rest assured that the Belpre Award for Illustration is well deserved here (he also won a Honor in 2011).  Tonatiuh does an amazing job of echoing Rivera's style without abandoning his own artistic leanings.  His faces are perfectly rounded, with sharp lips and sloping noses.  As you can see from the cover image above, Diego Rivera is perfectly recognizable in the foreground, even though it is done in Tonatiuh's own style.  In the author's note, he describes how both he and Rivera were inspired by ancient Pre-Columbian and Mayan art.  It is fascinating to see how well Rivera's style melds with Tonatiuh's own.  A final piece of back matter that I found very useful is the Inspirations piece.  There is a list of page numbers for the illustrations in the book, along with the murals or paintings that Rivera did that inspired Tonatiuh's illustrations.  He includes the size of the murals, yet another way of emphasizing the enormity of Rivera's imagination and work.

His artistic style for this book is unusual and thoughtful.  On the back of the title page, it is noted "The artwork in this book was hand-drawn, then collaged digitally."  This is a fascinating combination, especially in light of the historic influences on both of their work.  For instance, on a set of book shelves, most books are hand-drawn.  But then there are also a few, scattered about, that are clearly "real" books.  These help add depth and texture to the illustrations.  Sometimes the collaged parts are immediately visible in framing elements; sometimes they are more subtle, such as the hair of one of the figures.  The collaged elements also help draw a connection between ancient and modern society.

All in all, this book cannot be missed.  Its unique combination of artistic styles and its ability to bring a historical figure into today's society is phenomenal.  It is also a valuable book for schools and classrooms.  Do yourself a favor and investigate this one.

Diego Rivera: His World and Ours.  Duncan Tonatiuh.  Abrams Books for Young Readers, 2011.

given by publisher for review in conjunction with Cybils.



The Quite Contrary Man

I'm not sure what it is about The Quite Contrary Man that keeps drawing me back.  I first saw it mentioned on a list somewhere this fall (and while I have a vague memory that it was an early Mock Caldecott reading list, I can't find it anywhere.  Sorry!).  I read it, liked it a lot, and thought I might blog about it.  But I had a lot to write about at that time, so I returned it.  Then Cybils season began, and it was on our list, so I checked it out again to read it.  It was due, and then I returned it for a second time.  But I put it on hold again so I could finally write about it.  There are some flaws here for me, but this book has really cast a spell on me.  It also seemed to cast a spell on Fuse#8, as it made her 100 Magnificent Children's Books of 2011.

Joseph Palmer is the Quite Contrary Man.  Hyatt says that "people called Joseph Palmer the most contrary, headstrong fellow in all New England!"  On the first page, Hyatt uses context to define "contrary" for readers who might not be familiar with the word.  She describes Palmer as "stubborn since the cradle", "pigheaded", and as above "most contrary, headstrong fellow".  So there is plenty of explanation to give readers an idea of how this man lived his life.

What there is not, on the first page or any other, is an actual date associated with the tale.  Hyatt begins the tale by stating "Back in the days of your great-great-great-great-grandparents..."but I think this folksy expression does a real disservice to readers.  I can't even figure out what year that might be - how would young readers do the math and even get the date right?  For the record, not even the historical note gives an exact date for the action retold here.  Hyatt gives some general ideas about the date - she says "thirty years later, during the Civil War" and "Now, more than a hundred and fifty years after Joseph Palmer went to jail".  And these vague references to date only come in the historical note, located on the very last page of the book.  I think this makes it harder for readers to really connect this story with the timeline of American history.  It's also a flaw when considering this book as nonfiction.

But now that I've gotten my biggest pet peeve out of the way, I want to talk more about the strengths of this story.  Joseph Palmer is a man who is very different from his neighbors.  The townspeople make an effort to look very similar - plain and proper.  Yet Joseph Palmer chooses a distinctive way to stand out from the crowd.  He grows an enormous beard.  And I do mean enormous - Hyatt describes it as flowing "from chin to belly and from elbow to elbow".  Palmer is eventually known simply as Beard Palmer.  And as can often happen when people do something dramatic to assert their individuality, others got angry with Beard Palmer.

But Beard Palmer isn't called the Quite Contrary Man for nothing.  He sticks to his guns and maintain his beard, even though his preacher tells him the beard makes Palmer look like the Devil.  He even quotes Bible verses back to the preacher.  And when men try to hold him down and shave him (with modern-day echoes in the Ohio Amish beard-cutting attacks), he fights them off.  He is even finally put in jail, where he languishes for an entire year, refusing to cut the beard the whole time.  He is one contrary man, all right.

One of the things I like best about this book is its themes.  Joseph Palmer knows he isn't hurting anyone by growing his tremendous beard, he's just showing his individuality.  And the fact that he is willing to stand up for his right to be different is something that he is definintely recognized here.  Sure, it's told with a little bit of humor, but Hyatt doesn't go over the top with Palmer's story.  Children will be able to recognize the threat of peer pressure and religious pressure throughout, and see how Beard Palmer's stubbornness helps him rise above all of that.

Many of Brown's illustrations are glorious. I wish I could show some of my favorites, but you'll be able to recognize them when you check the book out.  Though I haven't really talked about it here, the text focuses on Palmer's family - how they deal with a father who is ostracized and jailed for his beliefs.  Some of Brown's best work features the entire family (even Palmer's mother!).  On the very last double-page spread, the Palmer family dances in the road outside the jail.  There are smiles and delight all around.  The moon is yellow and full, casting the family's shadows ahead of them.  Many of the text blocks are wrapped in wooden twigs, entwined with vines.  This adds to the folktale feel of the book, and so does Brown's depiction of the infamous beard.  It truly has a life of its own as it wrestles its way out of the jail cell window, or stays sedately calm during church services.  The illustrations mostly keep the story on the light side.  Yet there are emotional pictures too, such as when Beard Palmer's son waits outside a prison window for his father's letter.  The young boy knows the letter, complaining about prison conditions, will only make things worse.  He is hunched down by the window, with sadness and longing on his face.  These illustrations really help convey the spirit of the text.

I only wish there had been more back matter to go with this story.  Even though it is told in more of a folktale style, perhaps a bibliography or more complete information on Joseph Palmer would have been welcomed.  But it is an interesting look at a man who just didn't want to be like everyone else.

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.
The Quite Contrary Man: A True American Tale.  Patricia Rusch Hyatt; illustrated by Kathryn Brown.  Abrams Books for Young Readers, 2011.

borrowed from Lewis and Clark library