We Are Story

Kismet is one of my favorite words. I love to say it, and I love to experience it. It has a hint of onomatopoeia to my ears–whether it technically fits the definition or not. (I checked; it doesn’t.) But hear me out: “‘Tis meant!” she shouted when a pair of boots just her size mysteriously appeared at the trailhead the very moment hers fell apart.

The word itself has Arabic (qisma), Persian (qismat-portion or lot) and Turkish (qismet-fate) roots, and when the American author and playwright, Julia Constance Fletcher, learned about kismet while traveling in Egypt, she was inspired to write her 1877 ode to fate and destiny called A Nile Novel, or Kismet. It featured a group of white travelers pondering the mysteries of love while floating down the River Nile. “Just met!” she whispered when he pulled his deck chair closer to hers. The book’s popularity is said to have increased usage of the word.

My husband and I recently celebrated his birthday in Montreal at a bustling North Indian restaurant called Darbar. It was kismet when I opened their website and saw this:

ALL THAT WE ARE IS STORY. From the moment we are born to the time we continue on our spirit journey, we are involved in the creation of the story of our time here. It is what we arrive with. It is all we leave behind. We are not the things we accumulate. We are not the things we deem important. We are story. All of us. What comes to matter then is the creation of the best possible story we can while we’re here; you, me, us, together. When we can do that and we take the time to share those stories with each other, we get bigger inside, we see each other, we recognize our kinship — we change the world one story at a time. 

Richard Wagamese, Ojibwe Canadian author & journalist (1955-2017)

I got a shiver knowing that a First Nations Canadian writer’s words were conveying the essence of a Punjabi restaurant in Montreal, Quebec to me in Seattle–and to everyone, anywhere in the world who happened upon them. Story. It’s who and what we are, all of us. It’s the perfect introduction to this post. “Wish met!” she sighed with delight.   

 A Story A Story:  An African Tale Retold

Haley, Gail E.  1970

We start at the beginning with this tale from the Ashanti people of Ghana. Time was Nyame, Sky God to the Ashanti, kept all the stories of the world in a box next to his royal stool. It was Kwaku Ananse, a small & clever Spider man, who spun a web to the sky to ask Nyame if he might buy the stories to share with all the people. Nyame laughs at the audacity of Spider but makes him an offer anyway. Bring me Osebo, the leopard-of-the-terrible-teeth; Mmboro, the hornet who-stings-like-fire; & Mmoatia, the fairy whom-men-never-see. Ananse calmly accepts the seemingly impossible challenge & climbs back to earth to get to work.

Now the storyteller & listeners’ fun in sight & sound begins in earnest. Haley’s double page woodcuts were awarded the Caldecott Medal in 1971, and they lend themselves beautifully to group sharing. Brilliant pastels & close-ups of Ananse & his prey leap from the page. The text sings with the repetition of Nyame’s chuckling–twe, twe, twe; Ananse running along the jungle path–yiridi, yiridi, yiridi; & creeping through tall grass–sora, sora, sora. His ingenuity is on full display as he captures leopard, hornet & fairy to give Nyame in exchange for his stories. Once back on earth Ananse throws open the golden box & the stories scatter to all corners of the world.

This Ananse story is but one variation on a character that traveled from Ghana on slave ships to the Caribbean & southern United States during the transatlantic slave trade. How fitting that Spider & his stories, in order to survive, were carried by the strongest, most adaptable & resilient of the desperate millions dispossessed. Whether he’s Ananse, Anansi, Anancy or Aunt Nancy, Spider reminds us that survival demands keeping one’s wits about oneself & staying alert to the risks humans & animals can pose. Essential, too, is the conviction that sharing wisdom by example & through story will endure.  

How to Build a Hug:  Temple Grandin and Her Amazing Squeeze Machine

Guglielmo, Amy and Tourville, Jacqueline.  Illus. by Giselle Potter.   2018

Dr. Temple Grandin is an animal behaviorist, advocate for the humane treatment of livestock, and autism rights activist. She had a challenging childhood as a smart & very sensitive girl. She felt out of place at school because it was too noisy. She disliked being touched by people & things because they were too scratchy. She created outlets for her genius & enjoyed them by herself. She planned & built things. She loved her dog & made games to play with him. Still, she yearned for the closeness of this thing called a hug she saw others give and receive with pleasure.

One magic summer, after a year at boarding school for children with special needs, a more confident Temple went to work on her aunt’s cattle ranch. It changed Temple’s life. There she saw a skittish calf that was waiting for a veterinarian exam, being calmed by a ‘squeeze chute,’ a metal contraption that snugly cradled & soothed it. As she sat with the hushed calf, Temple had an idea. Maybe she could make a squeeze machine for herself to get used to the feel of something all around her that wasn’t too scratchy or too noisy…something very much like a hug.

Giselle Potter was the perfect choice to illustrate Grandin’s story. I fell in love with her quirky picture book autobiography, The Year I Didn’t Go to School, ages ago & have been a fan ever since. Her watercolor illustrations–from the endpapers to the authors’ note—are loaded with the stuff of Temple’s story–tools & specs for building projects, images of noise & quiet, and facial expressions full of both discomfort & delight.      

It Began With a Page: How Gyo Fujikawa Drew the Way

Maclear, Kyo.   Illus. by Julie Morstad.  2019

Gyo Fujikawa’s life as a groundbreaker began in 1913 when she was five years old, growing up the daughter of first-generation Japanese American immigrants in northern California. It was then that she took pencil in hand, turned to an empty white page & began drawing. Gyo loved to draw. She loved everything about it—how the pencil felt in her hand, how it glided over the paper, & how, if she added a splash of yellow or blue, a brand-new picture would appear.

Gyo was passionate about creating art & believed she was talented, but she also knew that her parents had few resources to support her dream of becoming an artist. Enter two high school teachers who really see this girl: Gyo, whose eyes missed nothing, who could sketch rivers and boats and birds like a dream. They commit to her future–& this story–by paying Gyo’s way to art school in Los Angeles in 1926.

Imagine! Alone in LA as an 18-year-old Japanese American woman with big dreams–but not much else. She learned as she drew. When she finished art school, she traveled to Japan to learn traditional brush painting & steep herself in the culture of her ancestors. But there were too many rules. So, she traveled the country alone, learning as she went—wood blocks & carving while floating in a sea of kimonos. If Gyo hasn’t stolen your heart by now and convinced you of her place among trailblazers in the art world, read on to see & learn of her importance to the concept of diversity in books for the very young.

This biography in the form of a picture book is for all who remember Babies, the board book published in 1963 that Fujikawa wrote & illustrated. Full of babies of all colors, shapes & sizes, doing things naughty & nice, alone & at play with others, it was at first rejected by publishers. But the undeniably talented & persistent artist prevailed…and it all began with a page.

111 Trees:  How One Village Celebrates the Birth of Every Girl

Singh, Rina.   Illus. by Marianne Ferrer.  2020

Meet Sundar Paliwal, a young boy growing up in the small Indian village of Piplantri, located in the desert region of the state of Rajasthan. His favorite thing to do each day is to accompany his mother on the long walk to the well for water. He helps by collecting firewood as they go. It’s the only time he has her all to himself, and he cherishes it. When Sundar’s mother dies suddenly from a snake bite and is unceremoniously whisked away from their mud house, he is devastated. His grief has no outlet save the embrace of a tree—like the trees he and his mother would rest beneath during their hikes in the hot sun.

Years later, when Sundar becomes a husband and father, he reflects on the very different expectations the village has for girls and boys. The birth of a boy is cause for celebration. The birth of a girl is greeted with silence. He remembers how hard his mother, & every woman in the village, labored to care for their families, and how little respect they received. He is troubled by the inequality in educational opportunity between boys and girls. He and his wife commit to doing things differently with their own children. But it is the death of their oldest daughter that propels Sundar into activism on a grand scale. And here’s where the trees come in—thousands of trees. 111 trees planted to honor the birth of each girl in Piplantri. Trees planted to heal the deforestation around the nearby marble mine. Trees to capture water & rebalance the ecosystem for agriculture.   

111 Trees is one title in the CitizenKid series of books from Kids Can Press. The collection’s mission is to inform children ages 8-12 about the world and inspire them to be better global citizens. In case that sounds more preachy than inspiring, I encourage you to have a look. Beautifully illustrated by Venezuelan-born artist, Marianne Ferrar, in lush watercolors, gouache, and graphite, it hums with life & the promise of a better world.    

Lost and Found

Every time I give myself over to this practice of blogging for Books Around the Table, things interesting and wonderful happen. Mystery and serendipity are likely to come along, too. It goes like this:  I gather books, willy-nilly at first, and always more than I have the time or space to write about. I keep an eye and an ear out for commonality, a hook I might hang my selections on. I sort, shuffle, and stack, trying on themes and motifs that might offer structure to my post. More visits to the library for more books with elements that overlap or provide a counterpoint to those piles that shrink or grow as I rearrange and reconsider. Variations on themes circle around, and so do I. If I waver too long before settling on one, I get dizzy. If I lean into one and its inevitable limitations, it feels like a dance. There is no right or wrong, no perfect fit of theme to list, but rather a tango with the ideas and imaginings of writers and illustrators whose work I admire. Let’s dance.

How to Write a Poem

Alexander, Kwame & Nikaido, Deanna.  Illus. by Melissa Sweet.  2023

To the dynamic duo that created How to Read a Book, add poet Deanna Nikaido’s voice and settle into the warmth and wisdom of this gem. How to start a poem? Begin with a question. Something deep perhaps, like an acorn waiting for spring. Follow the prompts that activate the senses, respond to the seasons, encounter the cosmos, and even explore the depth of one’s emotions. You may go alone–or with a friend or two–on this quest for the words, thoughts, and feelings that may—or may not—answer your question. But what a ride you will have taken to the place where the words have been waiting to slide down your pencil into your small precious hand and become a voice…

Melissa Sweet hand lettered the text and created her collage art using vintage and handmade papers, paint, pencils, printed letterforms, and beach pebbles. She explains that her very first reading of the text inspired the use of circles and spheres in the illustrations. They suggest the spinning wheels of imagination, circling around the natural world, coming full circle from question to poem. The abundance of cogs and cycles and cyclists is a nod to poet Nikki Giovanni. As she’s written, We are all either wheels or connectors. Whichever we are, we must find truth and balance, which is a bicycle.

The Other Way to Listen

Baylor, Byrd.  Illus. by Peter Parnall.   1978

Everybody Needs a Rock (1974) is my all-time favorite Byrd Baylor and Peter Parnall collaboration. I was hoping to find it still available in Seattle libraries. Alas, it is not. (It is still in print, though.) This beautiful story, set in the desert Southwest where Baylor lived, wrote, and was an activist for 97 years, is about finding a rock—the perfect rock–for oneself. The size of it, its shape, how it sounds in your pocket when you run, how it feels when you touch it a thousand times a day.

Instead, I offer you The Other Way to Listen. This may not look like a story for our times, although I might suggest it is the very story we need in our times. It is quiet and stunning in its reverence for the Sonoran environment. It features a child in conversation with an old man, an uncle or grandfather perhaps, who is so attuned to their desert backyard he can hear wildflower seeds burst open, rocks murmur, and hills sing. The child wants to know how to hear these things, too. It takes time and practice, the old man replies, and you cannot be in a hurry. Most importantly, the landscape and desert dwellers will be your true teachers. Then he shares his tips for soulful listening. Start small. Show respect. Do not be ashamed to learn from any living thing, even a bug. When you are alone, that is when you can listen best.

Parnall’s pen and ink drawings are spare and require the viewer’s attention the same way listening to a rock might. They capture the desert landscape and interactions between the child and old man with splashes of color that on one page illuminate the inside of a cave, then become the child’s hair, the old man’s coat, or a setting sun on others. If you pay close attention, you can almost hear them.

https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/childrens/childrens-industry-news/article/86798-obituary-byrd-baylor.html

A Day with No Words

Hammond, Tiffany.  Illus. by Kate Cosgrove.  2023

Aidan is a young Black boy who introduces himself to us the same way he greets the world every day–through his tablet with an app that displays pictures and words that speak for him. As he tells us, I was born like this. No voice from my lips. I am Autistic. He hears but does not speak. His powers of description are keen, though. Big voices feel like storms that thrash and scream. Soft ones are smooth like fresh whipped cream. Mama’s voice bobs and dances like water, and Daddy’s is like air–soft as a summer breeze.

Mama suggests a visit to the park by tapping on her tablet park…now…no…crowd? Aidan quickly taps yes because he loves the park, especially when there are few people there. He spins barefoot on the warm, damp grass. He hugs the trees to comfort them when the sun disappears behind a cloud. He jumps and flaps his arms in delight just because. They encounter another mother whose son points at Aidan as he moves to his own rhythm. She says Aidan’s doing that because he’s handicapped. They appear to back away from him in fear or scorn. After two deep breaths in and out to calm herself, Mama is ready to set the woman straight about Aidan. She furiously types on her tablet, then turns it around so they can read her words. No, he doesn’t speak, but his ears work fine. The words that you say go straight to his mind. From her teal fingernails to the teal curls on her head, this Mama has her son’s back. She also knows a quick stop for fast food on the way home, ordered by each of them on their tablets, is the best way to end a day with no words.

Cosgrove’s illustrations are hand rendered in pencil and ProCreate. Her use of pastels on the colored pages is very effective. The darker backgrounds allow the people and places to stand out in a muted way that seems congruent with Aidan’s relationship to his surroundings. It is her drawings of Aidan, however, that really add to this reader’s appreciation for his neurodiversity in ways both subtle and respectful. Careful attention is paid to where his eyes focus, whether they are open or closed, and even how he hears what goes on within and around him. When there are no words, it takes a skillful illustrator to bring a character to life. Cosgrove does this beautifully.

The Lost Words:  A Spell Book  

 Macfarlane, Robert.  Illus. by Jackie Morris.   2017 (UK) 2018 (US & Canada)

If you haven’t seen this masterpiece in poetry and paintings or listened to the audiobook performed by British actors and musicians, prepare to be spellbound. This is the book that inspires my musing about things lost and found, wild and tame, noisy and quiet. When keen Oxford Junior Dictionary viewers began noticing years ago that many words related to the natural world and the British landscape were being deleted while others dealing with technology and the virtual world were being included, it was cause for concern. Writers, environmentalists, poets, naturalists, teachers, and families across Britain sounded the alarm. Children who are not offered the opportunity and encouragement to see and smell and hear and talk about the natural world around them are being denied something essential to childhood, their argument went. Without the words to name their wild experiences, can they really know and love them? Can they tell stories and pass on their knowledge about them? Will they develop a passion to preserve and protect them as they grow?

Macfarlane and Morris offer this sumptuous, large format coffee table book as a corrective. It features 20 acrostic poems by Macfarlane of words removed from the dictionary including dandelion, wren, bramble, and otter. His intention, as he notes in the preface, is to conjure spells of many kinds that might just, by the old, strong magic of being spoken aloud…summon lost words back into the mouth and mind’s eye.

Here’s a taste from Magpie. Magpie Manifesto: Argue Every Toss! Gossip, Bicker, Yak and Snicker…Pick a Fight in an Empty Room!

Morris’s breathtaking art defies description by me. It is pure magic in gold and watercolor.

Every Day’s a School Day

My husband shared this expression with me long ago, and we’ve had many occasions to say it to each other and our kids over the years.  It may or may not be greeted with an eyeroll.  Or with a look that says, “Oh, boy, here we go…teachable moment alert!”  Every day’s a school day!  I love it even when it’s slightly annoying because it really goes straight to the heart of what learning is—and where and when it can happen.  Everywhere.  All the time.  In a school, in a library or in the great outdoors.  With friends or family, during story time or alone.  It can be noisy and messy.  It can be quiet and pensive.  There might be suspense, or hilarity might ensue.  There may be facts and figures.  Or there may be an unexpected connection between people and animals or a new awareness that slowly but surely begins to develop within oneself.  Each story and experience will resonate in its own way, in its own time, for each of us.  But we prime the pump with books like the ones that follow. Each of them offers something fresh and surprising. As I strive to stay open and keep learning every day, I hope today is a school day for you, too.

Wildflower.   2022

Brown, Melanie.   Illus. by Sara Gillingham.

Put on your sunglasses to enjoy this ode to weeds, or as some of us call them, wildflowers. Bright-eyed Daisy has just bloomed, and all is right in her sunny world.  That is until Rose throws her some shade and disdainfully tells her she’s just a weed and doesn’t belong in the garden with the beautiful likes of her. Daisy droops. She can’t believe her petals.  Rose goes on to explain that because Daisy wasn’t planted on purpose, she has no purpose being there.  Sage, Sunflower, and Chamomile, puffed up with self-importance because they were planted and have usefulness, add to Daisy’s dismay.  Leave it to the gently fragrant Sweet Pea to offer a word of consolation when she appears, having blown in on the wind, too.  Blackberry Vine sneaking over the fence and Clover popping up willy nilly suggest that even weeds like them can be useful. Think of my delicious berries, suggests Blackberry Vine.  My roots help other plants grow, says Clover, proudly.  At last, the queen of weeds, er wildflowers, Dandelion, weighs in. There’s room for all of us growing things under the sun!  With that, Daisy’s stem straightens, her petals stretch out, and she takes her rightful place alongside the rest.

Common weeds have never been more adorable than in the illustrations Gillingham renders with a stylus, an iPad and a computer.  Her endpaper images make Thistle, Chickweed, and Blackberry look so sweet it hardly seems fair to judge them common—or as weeds.  A Gardener’s Glossary of Terms describes the similarities and differences between wildflowers, weeds, invasives, and native plants in simple terms.  In her Case for Weeds, Brown is even-handed about their pros and cons, but she draws the line at introducing invasives that can be harmful to the local ecology.

We Became Jaguars.   2021

Eggers, Dave.   Illus. by Woodrow White.

This is another winner from Eggers, co-founder of 826 National, a network of writing centers for young people that launched in San Francisco as 826 Valencia in 2002.  (Seattle’s own 826 Greenwood, begun in 2005, spun off from the flagship to become the Bureau of Fearless Ideas in 2014.  It continues to offer programming for young people there and in Yesler Terrace.)  From its fanciful title and cover illustration to the opening page where Grandmother’s long arm extends from a spotted sleeve to the ring the doorbell, we know this isn’t going to be just another night with Grandma.  There’s trepidation in her grandson’s eyes and more than a little hesitation when she comes in, gets on the floor, and growls, “Let’s be jaguars.”

Grandmother seems to know all the ways to be a jaguar.  The boy follows her directions to get leaner, faster, fiercer with his small body.  Then they head out into the night.  In a stunning move by illustrator and book designer, we turn the page to find half human, half jaguar figures slinking out the door. But wait! Open the pages outward and the transformation is complete.  Grandmother and grandson ARE jaguars, and they’ve entered the deep, dark woods behind the house.

The woods become savanna, then a hilltop from which they can see most of the world.  And still they go on, jaguaring, because that’s what jaguars do. The duo drinks from a silver lake that tastes like moonlight, runs across the ocean, and finally stops somewhere in the Himalayas, where the boy remembers he has school. They run back–fiercely, nimbly, and quickly—hopefully to arrive before class begins.  Just in case, Grandmother has given him a note to share with the teacher.  Promise to look very carefully at her note!

 White’s illustrations of gouache and acrylic are wonderfully quirky and, well, jaguar-y. They convey a touch of menace with a jewellike background that complements the jaguars’ journey.  This story isn’t Eggers’ and White’s alone, though.  In an endnote, we learn that they were aided by input from the Young Editors Project (YEP), an international program that invites young readers and writers to see and comment on manuscripts in-progress by participating authors.

We All Play.  kimetawanaw.   2021 

Flett, Julie.

I first became acquainted with Flett’s work while shelving children’s books in the Canmore (Alberta) Library.  She illustrated Buffy Sainte-Marie’s story-song-poem of praise for Indigenous Canadians called Still This Love Goes On. I wrote glowingly about it in my first Books Around the Table post, and I’ve been keen to see all that she’s done before and since.  We All Play – kimetawanaw is a solo effort and a beauty, especially for the very young.  Double page spreads are filled from side to side with pastel and pencil creatures great and small doing what comes naturally. They play!  Bison rumble and roll.  Seals bubble and bend.  Wolf pups yip and yawn. Children play, too!

Flett is a Cree-Metis artist who often includes words from Cree language in her stories to honor her family and the land of her ancestors. The Cree words also provide context for the animals she chooses and the children’s clothing and games she depicts.  They connect the actions to the place and in turn connect the place to all of us. There is a list of animals in English and Plains Cree (y-dialect) appended and a short explication of the system of sounds used in the book. Flett invites readers to play while they listen—play with the sounds and play like the animals as they enjoy the story.

Mudkin.   2011

Gammell, Stephen. 

Here’s an oldie but a goodie from the mudluscious imagination of Stepen Gammell.  It’s the perfect picture book for the wet and slippery days to come and an ode to the most potent of childhood mixtures:  mud and imagination.  

Once there was a girl with queenly ambitions and an imagination to match.  After a downpour one day, she commands her kingdom of stuffed animals to come outside and play with her.  What follows in wild and wordless wonder is the appearance of Mudkin, an extraordinary little blob who invites her to be his queen for the day.  He whips up a crown, a carriage, and a castle in a muddy frenzy and whisks her off to meet his muddy minions. Will you be our Queen forever? Mudkin asks this of her in his own muddled voice.  Forever is a long time, especially when dark clouds are on the horizon and drops are falling on the castle keep. It was great fun while it lasted. Time to go inside and take a bath. But wait…that’s my crown on the ground!

Brief And Spectacular!

Whenever I’m asked if I have a favorite picture book, I stammer because there are so many. Then I draw a blank because there are so many. Then I hem and haw because it depends on so many things. I have favorites for group sharing, for sharing with one or two, funny favorites and favorites that always take my breath away. I love stories that communicate something familiar in a fresh way and stories that enlarge my understanding of the world in a few, oh-so-carefully-selected words, and images.

So, with a nod to the wonderful PBS interview series, Brief But Spectacular, and a wink to the authors and illustrators who create worlds with minimal text and illustrations that amplify those very few words, this is my Brief And Spectacular take on simple stories with big impact. 

My Dad Is a Tree

Agee, Jon.   2023

Madeleine has a novel idea for staying outside all day. On a beautiful spring morning, as her dad rakes the leaves, she stands in the yard, eyes closed, arms outstretched, and announces she’s pretending to be a tree. “C’mon, Dad, let’s be trees,” she implores him. He’s willing, but just for a minute. Soon an owlet lands on his shoulder, a robin starts making a nest in his hair, and a couple of chickadees chirp on his arm. “You’re a very good tree!” Madeleine tells him, admiringly. When a spider and butterfly settle in under his arm and on his nose, he frowns and complains ever so slightly that they tickle and itch. Trees don’t tickle and itch, Madeleine reminds him. What about darkness, pouring rain, and a wayward kite? Trees probably don’t mind them either, but what about Dad? There is a sweet silliness to the collage-y illustrations that Agee complements with brushstrokes that could tell the story all by themselves.

Most of the Better Natural Things in the World

Eggers, Dave.   Illus. by Angel Chang.   2019

A white tiger totes a yellow chair with a pink rope on a journey through the world’s wild and natural places. Why? We wonder as we wander with tiger. One word on each double page spread tells us where tiger is but not where tiger is going. Features like gorge, gulch, archipelago, and taiga beg to be read aloud. Just wait till you get to vista and see the view! First-time picture book illustrator, Chang, uses mixed media on paper to produce these spectacular images. An appended glossary gives brief descriptions of the features & where in the world they may be found.

Round Trip

Jonas, Ann.  1983

It is no exaggeration to say I was gobsmacked by this picture book when it appeared 40 years ago. As I look at it again with an eye to its economy of text and illustration, I still am. It is literally two books in one. Ann Jonas trained as a graphic designer, and it really shows here. Black and white silhouettes imagine a daylong excursion from home to the city and back again. We begin early. The sun is rising, the neighborhood is quiet, and the town is empty. We pass a farm, count the cars on a train, and finally reach the bright lights of the city. We ride the subway, enjoy a movie, climb to the top of the tallest building, and look down. We watched as the sun set. Time to turn around. Turn around? But we’ve just finished the book—or so it seems–until we turn the whole thing upside down and make our way back home again. It is a Round Trip, after all.  

Yo! Yes?

Raschka, Chris.   1993

Thirty-four words on 32 pages is all it takes for author-illustrator, Raschka, to introduce us to two kids–one Black, one White; one confident, the other shy; one lonely, the other keen to connect—and ignite a friendship between them. Watercolor and charcoal pencil drawings filled with contrasting body language and expression, present the pair on opposite sides of the spread, slowly coming toward the center, as they size each other up. When the two take the leap becoming friends always requires, our hearts leap, too. Bold, hand lettered text and punctuation fairly shout in agreement! YOW! 

A Perfect Day

Smith, Lane.  2017

It was a perfect spring day in Bert’s backyard for Cat, Dog, Chickadee, and Squirrel. Cat basked under the warm sun amidst daffodils in Bert’s flower bed. Dog sat in the wading pool Bert filled with cool water. Chickadee’s bird feeder was topped off with birdseed, thanks to Bert. And Squirrel clutched the corncob Bert dropped near the birdfeeder. Yes, it was a perfect day for all…until Bear appears on the scene. Bear takes over everything—from Squirrel’s corncob, Chickadee’s birdfeeder, Dog’s cool bath, and Cat’s flower bed, to the narrative, Smith’s lively mixed media illustrations, and the perspective of the entire enterprise. Turns out it was really Bear’s perfect day.

A gentle reminder:  There’s always more to a picture book than the story. This gem begins with bright yellow endpapers signaling the warm tale to come. The dedication, In memory of Bert—Feeder of bird, Feeder of squirrel, confounds at first, but in retrospect, is a tender nod to a generous friend who provides the story’s human touch. The photograph of a black bear tipping over a bird feeder outside an old schoolhouse on the jacket’s back flap supplies the story’s inspiration. The schoolhouse happens to be where Smith writes and paints. Finally, I see that the book and its jacket were designed by Molly Leach, Smith’s wife, and frequent artistic collaborator. Details like these add context and fun to the story. They enhance our appreciation of the whole.

More

Springman, I.C.   Illus. by Brian Lies.  2012

Field mouse gets this romp rolling by offering magpie a shiny marble. Magpie is delighted to go from nothing to something in her empty nest. Quantitative concepts are the theme as magpie flies, spies, and collects a few, several, then more and more treasures. Lots of everything! Surely magpie has plenty now! But no…her compulsive collecting continues.

Enough! cries the field mouse, as the branch holding magpie’s nest gives way and everything collapses, burying the bird under a mound of miscellany. The little rodent rallies a posse to free magpie from the pile, and soon there is less and less, then not much at all on top of her. Could a piece of blue ribbon tied to the marble and a chess piece be Enough? Yes, enough. Field mouse hops on magpie’s back and off they fly, tails trailing behind them.  

Handmade paper makes the perfect backdrop for the super-realistic acrylic and colored pencil drawings. There’s plenty of fun here to share with a small group, but these illustrations beg to be eyeballed by one or two at a time. Can you see the Lego? It’s red! The Tinkertoy? What’s a Tinkertoy? The jacks? What are jacks? A penny? What’s a penny? Enjoy a stroll down Memory Lane with these toys and so much More.

It’s the Not-So-Little Things: Six Picture Books with Big Feelings

I have big feelings about joining this wonderful group of children’s authors, illustrators, and multimedia artists responsible for Books Around the Table. My heart is full. Though I am none of the above, as a retired children’s librarian, I admire all of the work that goes into creating books for children that delight, inspire, spark curiosity, and awaken a sense of wonder about oneself and the world. Good picture books do that. I’m tickled to have a reason to open my eyes and ears again for the look and sound of what’s new. I look forward to reconnecting with old favorites that still pass muster and can be found on library shelves today. I imagine creating posts much like I put together story times back in the day…with a feeling, an event, an observation, and then a search for what’s out there to enlarge upon it…to cast a wide net and see what comes up! I promise there will be feelings…lots of feelings.

Kunoichi Bunny

Cassidy, Sara.   Illus. by Brayden Sato.  2022

Knuffle Bunny meet Kunoichi Bunny! This wordless delight features Saya and her stuffed ninja-bunny, Kunoichi, on a day of adventure with Dad. He sees only the aftermath of the duo’s good deeds when Kunoichi lies on the floor of the bus having cushioned a rolling stroller, is soggy from saving a duckling, and is mysteriously stuck in a blackberry bush far from his daughter but close to a ball field. It makes perfect sense that a story about a toddler and her ninja-bunny relies heavily on pictures, not words, so look carefully at Brayden Sato’s manga-style digital illustrations to get the full effect.

Milo Imagines the World

De la Pena, Matt.  Illus. by Christian Robinson.  2021

I love this collaboration between Matt de la Pena and Christian Robinson so much! It hits all the right notes for me with its text and illustrations in perfect tune. Milo, our young storyteller, rides the subway with his sister to an unknown destination. As the train fills with passengers, he fills his notebook with observations and fantasies about each one. The whiskered man with the crossword puzzle must live in a cluttered apartment full of cats and rats. The woman in the wedding dress is surely on her way to a grand cathedral to marry the man of her dreams. And the boy in a suit and tie with spotless white sneakers is, no doubt, a prince. Milo wonders what people imagine about him from his face.

Their journey ends with Milo and his sister visiting their mother in a detention facility. In a masterful coincidence, the boy in the suit is there to visit with his mother, too. Our precocious narrator realizes that maybe one can’t really know people by just seeing their faces. He revises his assumptions of all the people he’s seen in fresh and inclusive ways.

What’s My Superpower?

Johnston, Aviaq.  Illus. by Tim Mack.  2017

June 21 is National Indigenous Peoples Day in Canada, a day to honor and celebrate the unique heritage, cultures, and contributions of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis peoples. I saw this gem of a picture book by Inuk author, Johnston, in the Canmore Library along with others by Indigenous authors and illustrators. To my delight it’s available in Seattle, too.

Nalvana lives with her mother in a small house in a small town in the northernmost Canadian territory of Nunavut. She appears in true superhero fashion, peddling her bike uphill, yellow cape flying and snowmobile goggles resting on her forehead. But she laments not having a superpower to go along with her super costume. Her friends all have them. One runs fast. Another holds his breath underwater for a long time.  A third sculpts perfect Arctic animals in the snow. Nalvana celebrates their special talents but wonders if she’ll ever find her very own. It’s her mother who lovingly suggests that making people feel good about themselves, like she does her friends, is a superpower, too…a very special one. A short glossary of Inuktitut words used in the story is included.

In a Jar

Marcero, Deborah.  2020

Llewellyn is a collector of things soft as a feather and small as a stone. He puts his treasures in glass jars so he can always remember the special places he’s been and the wonderous things he’s seen. One evening he meets Evelyn, and together they begin collecting—sounds, smells, seasons—things they didn’t imagine could fit in jars, but somehow, they do. When Evelyn moves away at summer’s end, Llewellyn’s sadness fills an empty jar. Not for long, though, as he spies shooting stars from his bedroom window and rushes outside to collect and then send them onto Evelyn at her new home in the city. She sends Llewelyn a jar of bright city lights and sounds in return. (Out of a Jar, published in 2022, is a tender sequel about Llewelyn and his emotions.)

Still This Love Goes On

Sainte-Marie, Buffy.  Illus. by Julie Flett.  2022

Buffy Sainte-Marie, Cree folksinger-songwriter, pacifist, Indigenous Canadian and American human rights activist; and Julie Flett, Cree-Metis author-illustrator of children’s books that celebrate the life and cultures of Indigenous Canadians are mighty, hyphenated collaborators. Flett’s pastel and pencil illustrations capture the promise of boundless love across seasons and Indigenous communities. Sainte-Marie dedicates her song to all of us who are adopted, and those who have left space in their hearts to adopt us back into Indigenous communities. Share the book. Sing the song. Pass on the love with those near and dear to you.

A Way with Wild Things

Theule, Larissa.   Illus. by Sara Palacios.  2020

Poppy Ann Fields is a little girl with great big glasses and a special fondness for bugs. She knows their names, their ways, and most of all appreciates their quiet friendship. She’s less comfortable with people and tends to disappear into the background when they’re nearby. But when a dragonfly lands on 100-year-old Grandma Phyllis’s birthday cake at her backyard garden party, Poppy Ann comes out of the shadows and into the light to express her delight. She’s not a wallflower, as Uncle Dan suggests, but a wildflower, says Grandma, when the insect finds safety in Poppy Ann’s hands. She has a way with wild things. Palacios’s lively illustrations portray an extended Mexican American family celebrating their matriarch with gusto.

by Ann Dalton