Abraham Lincoln has been the topic of much discussion lately. Of course, there was the multiple-Oscar nominated movie, with its Oscar-winning best actor. I've already blogged about Looking for Lincoln, a book which gave facts about Abraham Lincoln a new, postmodern twist. And here at the Murray house, Abraham Lincoln has taken on a great deal of importance since Presidents' Day. Frances' teacher told her Kindergarten class some of Lincoln's biography, and she's been talking about him ever since. We see a ramshackle wooden shed on the side of the freeway, and that is Lincoln's childhood log cabin home. I've heard many times that his mother died when he was nine years old. A few days ago, we were on our way home from dinner, and Gloria wanted me to turn on the car's interior light so she could color. I explained that it was against the law, and Frances piped up and asked whether Abraham Lincoln made that law too. Clearly, Abraham Lincoln is an important historical figure to Frances!
This picture book begins with the dogs. The narrator mentions that three of last century's presidential dogs would not enter "that room". The afterword explains that "that room" was the Lincoln Bedroom. The narrator goes on to say that people saw his ghost on February 12th, but everyone was wearing stovepipe hats and beards (although astute readers will easily pick out the ghost peering out from behind a curtain). Then a young girl named Quincy slips away from her school tour and sees the ghost of Abraham Lincoln poring over the Gettysburg Address. They really see and acknowledge each other. He tells her a couple of corny jokes and she politely laughs. Lincoln admits during their conversation that he continues to have the same dream, over and over again: "It's always the same. I'm on a ship sailing repeatedly for some shore I know not where." Lincoln has been pacing through the White House while they've talked, with Quincy scrambling to catch up with his long legs. He apologizes for being so restless, but tells her "...there was so much to do beyond 1865. Our union was so fragile, so uncertain. Like that ship on the rocky sea." Quincy (and the reader) realizes that Lincoln has stayed because he doesn't know how things have turned out in history. Quincy takes Abraham Lincoln on a flight around the world (Lincoln doing the flying), giving him updates along the way. Later that night, the narrator says, Quincy herself has a dream. "She dreamed of a man, a tall man in black, on a boat moving rapidly toward the rising sun." It is, of course, Abraham Lincoln, with his worries and burdens now lightened, who is sailing off towards the sun.
This book is clever in a number of ways. One of the ways I find it most clever is very subtle, and in fact took me several readings to discover and appreciate. The book is titled Abe Lincoln's Dream, but his name is never mentioned in the text. The President is referred to only as "he", or once as "the ghost", although he is described in all the traditional ways we've come to associate with Lincoln: the stovepipe hat and beard, tall, dressed in black. The narrator comments the first time Quincy sees Lincoln: "He was dressed in black from hat to boot, but she wasn't frightened; he had a long face that made her feel sorry for him." These descriptions are all things we know about Lincoln. And of course, there are other textual references to his history as President. The jokes, the references to 1865, his admiration of the Gettysburg Address and his question about whether the states are united all point to his identity without Smith having to name him at all. And because of the preponderance of textual and illustrative clues, I can't help but wonder how many readers actually fail to notice that the ghost is unnamed.
Of course, Lane Smith's illustrations also help identify Lincoln. Smith does an incredible job of walking the fine line between evoking the actual man himself and creating a character for this story. His tall black stovepipe hat, his grasshopper-like legs and neatly trimmed beard all echo the portraits of Abraham Lincoln we can all call to mind. The facial expressions, though, are pure Lane Smith. My favorite one is when Abraham Lincoln throws his hand to his forehead, eyes closed, head bent back in a dramatic fashion. The text at that moment is serious, but the look makes readers smile. Similar to John, Paul, George & Ben, Smith takes a historical figure and pokes a little fun at him. There is a lightness to much of this book that contradicts the sadness in Lincoln's long face.
Lane Smith is comfortable creating in that gray area between fact and fiction. As I mentioned previously, the first pages of the book include several dogs owned by other presidents. Smith cites each of the dogs, their Presidents(and which President they were), giving authenticity to the picture book. But the most stunning fact of all is the fact that the morning of his assassination, Smith tells us, President Lincoln told members of his cabinet of a disturbing dream he'd had - the one he described in the text to Quincy. It is an incredible connection for readers and re-emphasizes the fact that this dream kept the fictional character trapped in the Executive Mansion all these years. It is truly an amazing book - enough fact to ground readers in information, enough fancy to help readers soar. All I could wish for were some citations for Smith's afterword, but really it feels authentic without that information. While this is a picture book, and a story, it is based in fact, and again straddles that gray area in between.
As always, the book design (done by Lane Smith's wife, Molly Leach) is impeccable. The book is a mix of historical and modern touches. Quincy, Lincoln and the narrator all speak in different fonts which adds to the interest on each page. But all of the fonts are clean and crisp, so the page never feels too cluttered, even with all three speaking on the same page.
I think the last thing I would like to mention about this book is its audience. While Frances, a kindergartener, was interested in this book, I believe this book also rewards a more sophisticated, older reader. This is the kind of book that appeals to Kindergarteners with its basic narrative thread. They would enjoy Lincoln's silly, old-fashioned jokes. A fifth grader would have learned more about Lincoln and the history of the United States and could appreciate some of the things that aren't said here. And a high schooler would also be familiar with the history here, and would not feel as if the narrator talked down to them. It's a flexible, entertaining book, good for multiple levels and audiences. I wish I had time to compare it to other books with characters flying through the sky, seeing the world around them, such as Tar Beach. There are lots of ideas that come out of a well-written book, Pick this one up, not to learn more about the facts of Lincoln's life, but to experience history through his eyes.
Abe Lincoln's Dream. Lane Smith. Roaring Brook Press, 2012.
borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library
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
I have loved Louise Erdrich's books and writing voice ever since I started reading her work - probably in college. I found her adult novels then, probably reading in chronological order, since that is often how I read books, and her work with then-husband Michael Dorris. And then, for a long time, I tried to keep up with her writing. I read the book I'm writing about today, Grandmother's Pigeon, and loved it so much that I sought out my own copy. But Erdrich's publishing went far faster than I could read, and I moved on to other authors for awhile. Almost two years ago, I went to work at the Office of Public Instruction, right down the hall from our Indian Education division. I started talking books with the Indian Education staff, and was reminded how much I liked her writing. So more than a year ago, I set myself the goal of reading and re-reading Louise Erdrich's novels, both for children and adults. And I knew I wanted to start with Grandmother's Pigeon.
This narrative begins with Grandmother. The narrator, an unnamed young girl, begins with the words "As it turned out, Grandmother was a far more mysterious woman than any of us knew." She describes her grandmother and her ways, ways that are slightly magical and definitely a little mysterious. Then the granddaughter launches into the heart of the story - on a beach vacation with the family, Grandmother hops onto the back of a dolphin, and sets off for Greenland. A year later, the family is forced to acknowledge that their Grandmother will not be returning. The family (which includes an older brother) opens their Grandmother's bedroom door and begins to sort through her belongings. Their astonishment grows when the mother picks up a nest and the eggs within it begin to hatch. They are pigeons, eerily similar to the stuffed, taxidermied pigeon on Grandmother's windowsill. As the pigeons grow, the mother begins to suspect something. She calls in an ornithologist, who confirms her suspicions. Somehow, the eggs that have hatched are passenger pigeons, which have been extinct for almost 100 years. The media is called, and the three young pigeons become the focus of much attention. But when it is determined that the pigeons are all male, cannot continue the species, and will more than likely spend their lives in a zoo, the children take matters into their own hands. And in freeing the pigeons, the children make contact with their Grandmother, who they believed lost forever.
There are so many interesting things about this book that I'm not sure exactly where to start. But maybe I'll begin with Grandmother herself. As you may have realized from the summary, Grandmother is only in the first two pages. And she only has a few lines of dialogue, just as she is leaving the family. She is primarily seen through the eyes of her granddaughter, who seems to be about five years old. But Erdrich's descriptions are rich, unusual and full of evocative detail. The granddaughter describes how the Grandmother's tea could get them out of bed on days when they had exams at school, "when we felt slightly ill", before she even entered the room. When the family enters their Grandmother's room a year after her disappearance, that description makes you want to enter the room yourself. There is a wooden Sun-Tzu effigy of a horse on the windowsill, a petrified buffalo tooth, a Paul Klee painting. All of these small details give you a strong sense of this woman you won't even meet again in the pages of this book. She is quirky - someone of this world and yet not. Grandmother is mysterious, as the granddaughter says in the very first line of this book. As a reader, I was sorry I would never get to meet her.
Another interesting thing about this way this book is composed is the issue of names. There are no personal names in Grandmother's Pigeon. Everyone in the book (except for the ornithologist) is family, and as such, is only described by their family relationship. And this relationship is also very formal - not Grandma or Nana, but Grandmother. The granddaughter only says "my mother" or "my father", not Mom or Dad. Even the brother is not referred to by name. This gives the book a formal feel, which is juxtaposed against the more casual, spontaneous, chaotic feel of the Grandmother's personality. The granddaughter's narrative, with the longest descriptions of family relationships in each paragraph, is much more buttoned up in comparison.
The mysterious hatching of the three passenger pigeons raises questions for the ornithologist, who literally cannot believe her eyes. In a neat twist, they restore her with some of Grandmother's own magic tea - while the children can be roused on "sick days" simply by the smell, the ornithologist takes two cups. Erdrich is able to introduce the unique history of the passenger pigeons at this point as the ornithologist explains it to the children. Erdrich's explanation of the pigeons' history is impressive at this point - it is accessible to young readers, but also sounds enough like a lecture to sound reasonable coming out of the ornithologist's mouth. The ornithologist never seems to notice Grandmother's pigeon sitting proudly on the windowsill, or make any sort of connection between it and the hatched eggs. The children are one step ahead of her.
The ornithologist says while describing the passenger pigeons, "nature is both tough and fragile." This, to me, is the core of the book. The passenger pigeon is extinct and yet alive. The family misses their Grandmother dearly, grieving for her, and yet continues on in the strength she has given them. For them, as for all of us, the correlation can be drawn to life - it can be tough and fragile too. One moment their Grandmother is there with them, full of magic and spark, the next she has left a void (granted, by sailing off on a porpoise). As the newly hatched pigeons begin to droop under all of the media attention, the family comes to the realization that they must be set free. While this will be the only generation of passenger pigeons, they will survive and soar in their freedom - tough, yet fragile.
When you first look at the cover, you instinctively believe that the cover illustration is of the Grandmother. After all, the title blazoned across the front is Grandmother's Pigeon, and the cover shows a woman, along with the two grandchildren, gaping in astonishment at the pigeons in a cage. It is only as the book progresses that you realize it is not, in fact, the Grandmother, but the ornithologist. Grandmother is absent from the cover of her own story, which is, I suspect, how she would like it. This is yet another example of the mystery surrounding her.
Jim LaMarche's illustrations are full of wonder and perfectly echo Erdrich's tone and text. Again, the Grandmother is only pictured in the first two pages of the book, and there is only one close-up. On that page, where the text describes the children's attempts at a sick day and Grandmother's magic tea, she has strength, wisdom and even magic in her twinkly eyes and knowing smile. Her dress is eclectic, with her wide-brimmed black hat and soft kerchief, but she is no-nonsense too. And yet when she is astride the porpoise, off on an adventure, she is cheery and light.
The glow of the light in these illustrations are remarkable. LaMarche has identifiable light sources in each and every page, from the light pouring into Grandmother's dusty room through the window to the hot sun on the family's beach vacation. That is true of every illustration except three. The children decide to release the pigeons in the dead of night, on a foggy, moonlit night. Mist pools around the tree trunks, giving a hazy look to the dark, shadowy landscape. But even then stars glisten and moonlight highlights the pigeons' wings as they take off into the wilderness. In their escape there is still mystery and magic.
There are so many more things I could say about this book. While this book is a picture book, the text is long and detailed and requires comprehension beyond that of a young child. But many of the details of the book may also help stretch a child's curiosity to explore whether you actually could ride a dolphin to Greenland, to learn more about passenger pigeons, or Paul Klee's paintings. Grandmother's knowledge can help create more connections for readers.
In the end, not even Grandmother's own family, who knows many of the details of her life, really knows her. We exit the book with just as many questions about her as when her granddaughter began: "As it turned out, Grandmother was a far more mysterious woman than any of us knew."
Grandmother's Pigeon. Louise Erdrich; illustrated by Jim LaMarche. Hyperion Paperbacks for Children, 1999.
borrowed from Montana Office of Public Instruction Resource Center
As you know by now, I have two little girls. Like any mom, I hoped when I was pregnant with Frances that she would like cars as much as princesses, and that I would make an effort to introduce both girls to as many different kinds of toys as possible - blocks, stuffed animals, cars and princesses. And as you could predict, Frances ended up loving primarily princesses and all of the tiaras, wands, and high heels. Then Gloria was born, and she could not have been more different. She is a Disney Cars fan. We have lots of trucks, race cars, and of course, Lightning McQueens galore (I think I counted ten the other day!). So a book about construction sites is right up Gloria's alley. And while Frances does still love princesses, she has learned to appreciate cars and trucks too.
Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site is a book that takes two popular subjects - bedtime and construction - and combines them. Even better, it does it in a way that works very successfully. Rinker and Lichtenheld start by looking at the whole construction site during the day. All of the trucks and equipment are busily working away at their day job. As the daylight fades, though, each truck begins to complete their tasks and shut down.
The very first piece of equipment is a crane truck. Rinker takes two pages for each construction vehicle. Crane Truck is a perfect example of how this book is set up. Before bedtime, Crane Truck has to raise one last beam up to the high rise. Rinker demonstrates in rhyming text how a Crane Truck operates and what his specific task is. As the sun goes down, Crane Truck finishes work on the building, and begins tuck his boom away to prepare for bed. Sleepy, Crane Truck holds his teddy bear in his claws and hangs a softly glowing star nightlight from his boom. The last line of every section reads "Shhh...goodnight, Crane Truck, goodnight" or cement mixer or dump truck or bulldozer or last but not least, the excavator.
I really like the way Rinker has treated her subject here. This book is equally about construction and bedtime. So for those readers and listeners who want to know about how construction equipment operates, they'll be able to learn about that. And the rhyming text and soothing goodnight routines help set the tone for bedtime. However, the one thing I did notice after repeated readings is that all of the vehicles shown are male. I wish she could have worked in at least one female vehicle, as I think that would make the book more attractive to girls.
The illustrations add to the comfort and interest of the book. Lichtenheld starts on the construction site is in full action, pouring cement, hauling heavy beams and transporting dirt. The pictures of the vehicles are all accurate, with plenty of detail to appease a construction lover. Yet they also all have expressive eyes and features to give them added personality. As the light dims and the site shuts down, listeners will enjoy all the other things they will spot on the pages. The moon glows softly as the construction site grows silent. The cement mixer cuddles up with a security blanket and I've already mentioned Crane Truck's teddy bear. My favorite, though, is the Dump Truck. He snores contentedly as a man throws open a window in a building across the alley. The man hollers "Hey! Pipe Down!" as the snoring extends through the girders of the construction site. The illustrations are personable and reward a careful viewer.
At the end of the book, the whole construction site is sleeping peacefully. This is a book I wish I had had at my old library, where I did a monthly pajama storytime. It would have been a soothing mix of big construction noises and quiet, peaceful sleep. Goodnight, goodnight.
Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site. Sherri Duskey Rinker and Tom Lichtenheld. Scholastic, 2011.
Reviewed from my personal collection.
I am an inveterate reader, and as I've mentioned on this blog before, it often gets me into trouble. I have overdue books that I have to read quickly before returning them. I'm always paying overdue fines. I sometimes (gasp!) let my girls watch movies because I can't stop reading something I really like long enough to play ball outside. So this week I've been racing through a few overdue teen books, including some nonfiction. But I saved Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters for last, and I'm glad I did. I read a review of it in the Sept./Oct. 2010 Horn Book and I had read Standiford's last book, How to Say Goodbye in Robot, earlier this fall, and really liked it. This one was even better.
The story begins at Christmas in the Sullivans' Baltimore home. There are six Sullivan children, and straight off the bat, you can tell this family is a little quirkier than most. All the kids have nicknames - Norrie, Takey, Sassy - that don't seem to hint at their real name. They call their mother by her first name, and call their father Daddy-O. The girls drive around in an old baby blue Mercedes, and each child moves into the coveted tower room before they go off to college. But when they go to their grandmother's house for Christmas dinner, things get a little weirder.
Their grandmother, whom they call Almighty, states that one of the Sullivan children has deeply offended her recently, and if a written confession is not in her hands by New Year's Eve, she will cut them all out of her will. No one is sure which Sullivan child has offended her, but it seems most likely that it is one of the teenage Sullivan sisters. Each of them believes they have done it, and they each write their own confessions. Each of the girls has been very busy that fall, and as their stories unfold, it seems possible that they are the one to offend Almighty.
The confessions are the strength of the book. They begin with Norrie (short for Norris, if you are wondering). Norrie is a senior in high school who signs up for a speed reading class at Johns Hopkins early that fall. It is when she meets a graduate student in her class that Norrie, who has always been responsible and sweet, begins to change. The big event looming over Norrie's fall is her December Cotillion, which is a very fancy party to introduce young ladies to society. Her family, especially Almighty, expects her to go and perform admirably at Cotillion, including having a suitable, society date. But is this what Norrie wants? Is she able to do it for her family? I suspect you know the answer to that question, or we wouldn't be reading Norrie's confession.
Jane and Sassy are Norrie's two younger sisters (but both in high school). They are also in trouble with Almighty this Christmas. Parts of their confessions are interwoven through Norrie's, but each girl has a chance to speak for herself. What's interesting to me about all three girls is that these may not be the kinds of confessions you are expecting. None of the three of them are sleeping around, drinking or taking drugs. They aren't stealing or breaking the law. Indeed, to most of us, they seem like good girls.
But not to their grandmother, Almighty. Part of the problem is that no one is exactly sure what they've done to make Almighty angry, One of the biggest problems in this book is the gap between the girls' lives and Almighty's expectations. In their own way, each one of the girls is pushing back against Almighty's society rules. None of them really want to go to Cotillion, but feel obligated to do so by Almighty's power and influence in their family. It all comes down to money. Obviously things have changed since Almighty was their age, when girls did not stand up for themselves and what they wanted. And all three of the Sullivans feel they cannot escape her disapproval, even though they want to live their own lives.
I also wanted to mention the town of Baltimore. Standiford's other book, How to Say Goodbye in Robot, is also set in Baltimore. I love the settings in both of these books, and I felt like Baltimore was almost another character in the book. The book is full of Baltimore locations, including shops, streets and of course Johns Hopkins. It is evident that Standiford loves Baltimore, and it really comes through in this book. The book wouldn't have had the same atmosphere set in New York City or even Washington DC.
I will say this about the Sullivan sisters - I couldn't get enough of them. I wanted to hear what happened next to all of them, even if it is just their everyday life. I couldn't bear to say goodbye to them. So when their confessions ended, I was left feeling deflated by the ending of the book. I don't want to spoil it, because I definitely recommend this book. But I just felt the ending didn't have all the thoughtfulness Standiford put into creating the Sullivan family's lives. But I'll still beg her to write more about them, because I loved these girls.
Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters. Natalie Standiford. Scholastic, 2010.
borrowed from Lewis & Clark library
As all the children's literature people in America know, tomorrow is the announcement of the American Library Association's Youth Media Awards. It's a magical time for those of us who love children's books. I haven't attended in person for many years, but I usually watch the livestream of the announcements. You can still cheer along with the crowd as the titles are called and authors' lives are changed forever. I've read many accounts of the phone calls authors get early that Monday morning from the committees, telling them they've won, and the stories always bring tears to my eyes.
Of course, it would be very difficult for me to choose the book that I think will win these awards, so instead I wanted to honor a clever salute to a Caldecott Honor winner. The Caldecott Honor winner is Madeline, and the book I'd like to bring to your attention is Frankenstein: A Monstrous Parody (written by Ludworst Bemonster). I wish I could remember where I first saw this mentioned this fall, but it made me want to get it. Luckily our public library had it, and I am a little ashamed to admit that we have had it checked out ever since. The girls love it, and keep asking to read it again. It is funny, clever and is a sweet love letter to a classic story.
The comparison is evident from the front covers. On the cover of Madeline, Miss Clavel walks towards the Eiffel Tower, trailing behind most of her twelve little charges clutching Madeline's hand. On the cover of Frankenstein, there is a creepy castle instead of the Eiffel Tower and Frankenstein peeking back at the reader. There is a clever seal on the cover as well which cites Frankenstein as a "Caldecott Horror book". And the font for the title and author is the same as well. All of it subtly sets up the reader for the experience they are about to have - familiar and yet a little creepy at the same time.
This is subtitled A Monstrous Parody, and it is indeed a perfect parody as it takes the well-known story of Madeline and turns it askew. In this story, the doctor is called by Miss Devel because it is too quiet down in the dungeon. There are twelve different monsters there, including all of the classic horror movie monsters. Besides Frankenstein, there is a skeleton, a werewolf, a mummy, the creature from the black lagoon, and others. But it is Frankenstein who attracts Miss Devel's attention. His head is missing! Frankenstein is trucked off to the laboratory, where he is given a new head, fastened on with those requisite screws. He wreaks havoc, eating the medical staff and the ceiling before Miss Devel and the rest of the group come to visit. And predictably, the night after the visit to the hospital, Miss Devel senses again that something is not right. She rushes to the dungeon door, only to see that every monster has lost their head. It is only in Miss Devel's hilarious response to this situation that the book deviates slightly, but it is great fun.
I think I should pause here to acknowledge that Ludworst Bemonster is a pseudonym for author Rick Walton and illustrator Nathan Hale. Their work is almost flawless and there is just as much enjoyment to be had for adult readers as there is for children who are familiar with Madeline. The rhyming text is almost perfect, and I am impressed with how well they created a story that had to both fit a pre-existing rhyme scheme and pay homage to the familiar plot. And the illustrations! The illustrations, too, pay homage to the original while also acknowledging the classic horror movies of our society. And just like the text, they have a sense of tongue in cheek humor too.
Hale has turned all those classic movie monsters into young children, and as frightening as they might want to be, they are pretty darn cute. On the front cover, Frankenstein turns to peek back at the reader, he does so with an adorable crooked grin that makes me want to scoop him up and kiss him. Miss Devel looks like a hip, steampunk mad scientist as she races down the stairs to her charges. And Dr. Bone wears a dapper suit and enormous voodoo mask with a large bone through its nose. These are the details that make this book so (dare I say it?) charming.
Where Madeline visits the zoo, and shows her bravery by pooh-poohing the tiger, Frankenstein actually frightens the other animals. The illustration shows Miss Devel frantically restraining some of the charges, while the rest run amok. The creature from the black lagoon is diving into the hippopotamus pool, the vampire is astride the ostrich, biting his neck. But the majority of the animals are watching Frankenstein, who stands calmly in the middle of the chaos. When they visit Frankenstein in the laboratory, the monsters arrive in a hilarious motorcycle/open-air carriage combination that really has to be seen. The looks of the drivers around them as Miss Devel steers determinedly are priceless.
This book is worth finding and comparing to Madeline. But it is clever and hilarious in its own right too. Enjoy the Youth Media Awards tomorrow, and find Frankenstein.
Frankenstein: A Monstrous Parody. Ludworst Bemonster. Feiwel and Fiends, 2012. borrowed from Lewis & Clark Public Library
Madeline. Ludwig Bemelmans. Scholastic, 1939, 1982.
personal collection
When TOON Books originally asked me to advertise their Maya Makes a Mess contest in July, I asked for a copy of the book to review along with the contest. I mentioned in the blog post how much I liked TOON Books, so I selfishly wanted the book for myself. When we got the book in the mail, the girls wanted to read it right away. Gloria ended up loving this book and reading it over and over. In fact, I've had a hard time holding onto it for long enough to get a review written! It's been a huge hit at our house.
The book opens with Maya and her parents eating dinner at the table. Her parents are scolding her for eating with her hands (something I am very familiar with!). The scolding continues: "'Sit down!' 'Sit up!'... 'Use a spoon!'. (p.6) Frustrated, Maya asks why she has to follow all these rules. Her father tells her "You need manners! What if you were eating dinner with the QUEEN?!" (p. 7). And then the doorbell promptly rings. Of course, it is the Queen's courtier. Maya is whisked off to court for a dinner party. She does point out htat she has already eaten, but that doesn't matter. When the royal dinner is served, it is made up of all the things a child does NOT like to eat - goose livers, snail salad, spinach juice and broccoli broth. So Maya pulls out her manners to request pasta with ketchup. She pats herself on the back for good manners, and when she isn't sure which fork is the pasta fork, she digs in to the pasta the way she always has. There are slurps, long noodles jammed into Maya's mouth, slipping through her teeth. Suddenly, Maya becomes aware that while she's enjoying herself, everyone in the room is staring at her.
Maya's total lack of manners is at first horrifying to the party guests. The Queen is shocked and disgusted. But when she asks Maya why she eats that way, Maya tells the Queeen that it makes food taste better. This then intrigues the Queen, who decides she (and everyone else at court) should try eating Maya's way. There is a huge free-for-all, with people eating messily, but enjoying every moment of it. And lest you parents worry that your children will want to eat like Maya all the time, the Queen declares that this has been so much fun that they will all eat like this again. But only on holidays.
In my first blog post on this book, I mentioned that I was a little leery of it. I, along with most parents, work hard to instill good manners and behavior in my daughters. I was afraid that this book would indulge bad manners, messy eating and ignoring the polite way to do things. I was especially afraid when Gloria kept reading it - poring over it again and again in her bed, on the couch, wherever she could find it. I was sure there was going to be a manners revolution in my house.
But I was so focused on the bad manners that I didn't realize Modan's subtle way of putting those manners into perspective. Maya's bad manners aren't applauded by the Queen at first. As I said previously, the Queen stops the entire dinner party in disgust. But it's the way Maya describes her way of eating that appeals to the Queen. When the Queen asks, repulsed, "...why, for heaven's sake, do you eat that way?" Maya tells her "It makes food taste better." and adds "much better!" (p. 25). It's Maya's total enjoyment that makes the Queen curious. The double page spread that follows is hilarious and gross at the same time. People are cramming lettuce in their mouths with their hands, slurping soup out of a ladle, feeding each other and spilling. But here is the best part - the Queen's dinner party has gone from being a stuffy affair, with too many forks and food no one wants to eat, to a fun party where the guests are relaxed, smiling, and enjoying themselves. That's what Modan is really emphasizing here. There is a time and a place for manners and fun. Maya may have mixed the two up slightly, but she has brought fresh air into the palace. And the Queen is wise enough to mandatethat this sort of fun should only take place on holidays. This isn't an everyday free-for-all - it's reserved only for special occasions.
For me, one of the best things about this book are the illustrative details. Modan gets the life of a young girl just right. From the very first panel, Maya is a total charming mess. As she leaves on the plane to the palace, she stands on the cabin stairway, waving cheerfully. She wears mismatched socks, scrunched around her feet, with no shoes and unkempt hair. Her parents fruitlessly wave a dress and a toothbrush at Maya while the ambassador mutters "'No time, no time!'" (p. 11). The Queen is much younger than Queen Elizabeth, but does have corgis that follow her every move. And the illustration of her at the wild feast, pouring ketchup into her mouth straight from the bottle, is simply perfect. There is nothing better. Oh, except for the long, loopy strand of spaghetti that meanders along the bottom of all the pages. It begins on the back of the title page, with a pot filled with boiled noodles. And it ends, on the last page, in a final perfectly fitting detail. Just perfect.
You may also remember from my blog post that I love how TOON Books has created these titles for easy readers. This book lists its reading level as Grades 1-2, and I would say for the most part that is exactly right. Many words are repeated throughout so if a child doesn't know it the first time they encounter it, they'll have plenty of opportunities to review it. The only place I thought an emerging reader might have trouble was with the food labels at the dinner party. I don't know many first graders who would recognize the words broth, livers or souffle, but that could just be nitpicking on my part. Otherwise this book is easy for a child to pick up and get great enjoyment from.
The visual literacy aspect is also strong. There are at the most six panels per page. Modan is careful to indicate movement from panel to panel, so the new reader can easily decode which panel they should look at next. And text and illustrations work together harmoniously. Maya is very expressive, and Modan includes lots of emphasis in the text through bold fonts and italics. It's easy to see how the text should be read. All in all, Maya is a fun book to share with young readers. It might make them not just a voracious reader, but a polite eater too.
Maya Makes a Mess. Rutu Modan. TOON Books, 2012.
sent by publisher for review
