Taback, Simms. 1999. JOSEPH HAD A LITTLE OVERCOAT. New York: Viking. ISBN 978-0670878550
I absolutely love this book. I would echo the sentiments of Tim Arnold (2000) when he says, “Taback's mixed-media and collage illustrations are alive with warmth, humor, and humanity." The written adaptation of this traditional Yiddish tale and the accompanying illustrations are simply phenomenal.
The story follows Joseph as he goes through life with his overcoat. When the overcoat gets worn, he uses the remnants to make a jacket. When the jacket gets worn, he uses the remnants to make a vest. This pattern continues until all that is left is a single button. When Joseph loses the button at the end, he appears to have nothing left. However, the resourceful Joseph continues to use the overcoat by writing of a book about his experience. Along the way, Joseph interacts with his family and community with each new permutation of the overcoat. The book ends with the sheet music for the traditional Yiddish song on which this story is based.
What at first glance is a simple story is surprisingly rich and complex. By definition, it is a realistic tale, but it is also a sort of cumulative story in reverse as the reader follows the degressive course of the overcoat. With each successive revision of the coat, a hole appears in the page through which we see the new incarnation of the coat. Turning the page, the reader discovers what Joseph has made from the remnants of the coat with the repeated phrase “So he made a ___out of it.” I love the illustrations, which give children a rich experience by providing an incredible variety of detail. There are newspapers, letters, faces, and much more that provide wonderful diversions from the simple refrain of the tale. I think the story could have incorporated the original Yiddish song better instead of simply tacking it on at that end, though I appreciate that it was fully represented on the final page.
I shared this book with both my daughters, and they were fascinated by the illustrations. With my five-year-old, I prompted her by asking “what all do you see on this page?” After the first page, she excitedly pointed out the endless sea of details that serve as a foil for the simple words. She also loved guessing what Joesph would make next based on the shapes cut out of the pages. My ten-year-old also loved guessing what Joseph would make next, and I was surprised by how taken she was with the sheet music at the end. Simms Taback is an author not to be missed, and this book in particular is a real gem.
Arnold, Tim. 2000. Booklist 96(9/10). January 1/15. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/index?page=1&pos=0&isbn=9780670878550
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Great Book, Great Connections
Bruchac, Joseph, and James Bruchac. 2004. RACCOON’S LAST RACE. Ill. by Jose Aruego and Ariane Dewey. New York: Dial Books for Young Readers. ISBN 0803729774
This traditional tale exemplifies a classic fable with a strong moral core. Kirkus Reviews called it “a lively, clever, and authentic version of his story” (Kirkus 2004). I had never come across this story before, but I'm glad I did.
According to the tale, the raccoon was once the fastest of all the animals. No matter what animal he challenged to a race, he always won. The problem was that this raccoon, named Azban, gloated in his victories and teased the other animals. Soon, all the animals stopped wanting to race, and Azban resorted to terrifying them from the trees. He finally manages to locate a racing partner: a giant rock at the top of a tall mountain. Azban pushes the rock down the mountain to start the race, and in the middle of his taunting, he trips and the rock lands on him. Though he asks for help, “One by one just about every animal in the forest passed him by.” Azban finally finds some helpful friends with a group of ants, but he squanders their goodwill and shakes them off before they have a chance to finish stretching him out. That is why his legs are short today, and the reason why he is no longer the fastest animal.
Azban the raccoon dominates all the other animals with his speed, but his hubris is his downfall. Operating in the classic pour quoi style, the story tells how pride does indeed come before the fall, and why raccoons are the way we know them today. Not only does Azban come into conflict with every other animal, he even comes into conflict with the rock. The real conflict is ultimately with himself, and his inability to express gratitude to his ant friends is his final undoing. The theme centers on the value of friendship, and avoiding being overly prideful. The simple illustrations mirror what is a very accessible and relatable cautionary tale. The changing background color of the sky creates a sense of action and movement that helps propel the story forward. The illustrators do a tremendous job of capturing the wide range of emotions expressed by Azban: pride, fear, anger, helplessness, and sadness. One critique I have is that the illustrations of the rock don’t really match the august term used to describe it, which is “Grandfather.”
My daughters both liked the story, and my five-year-old asked me if it was a true story. I did my best to explain the idea of a pour quoi tale (without using that term). She seemed to understand, but she had a hard time conceiving of how the ants were able to stretch Azban back out after being crushed by the rock. I told her I felt the same way. A few days later, though, we saw a single ant carrying a ladybug across the parking lot at her preschool. I told her that ants were very strong, and maybe that’s how they stretched out the raccoon at the end of this story. I could almost see the light come on above her head as she said “Oh, yeah!” It was a great connection that brought together a folk tale, nature, and a father and daughter. I’m very glad I chose to read this book with her and that we could share in a process of discovery together.
Kirkus. 2004. Kirkus Reviews 72(20). October 15. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/index?page=1&pos=0&isbn=9780803729773
This traditional tale exemplifies a classic fable with a strong moral core. Kirkus Reviews called it “a lively, clever, and authentic version of his story” (Kirkus 2004). I had never come across this story before, but I'm glad I did.
According to the tale, the raccoon was once the fastest of all the animals. No matter what animal he challenged to a race, he always won. The problem was that this raccoon, named Azban, gloated in his victories and teased the other animals. Soon, all the animals stopped wanting to race, and Azban resorted to terrifying them from the trees. He finally manages to locate a racing partner: a giant rock at the top of a tall mountain. Azban pushes the rock down the mountain to start the race, and in the middle of his taunting, he trips and the rock lands on him. Though he asks for help, “One by one just about every animal in the forest passed him by.” Azban finally finds some helpful friends with a group of ants, but he squanders their goodwill and shakes them off before they have a chance to finish stretching him out. That is why his legs are short today, and the reason why he is no longer the fastest animal.
Azban the raccoon dominates all the other animals with his speed, but his hubris is his downfall. Operating in the classic pour quoi style, the story tells how pride does indeed come before the fall, and why raccoons are the way we know them today. Not only does Azban come into conflict with every other animal, he even comes into conflict with the rock. The real conflict is ultimately with himself, and his inability to express gratitude to his ant friends is his final undoing. The theme centers on the value of friendship, and avoiding being overly prideful. The simple illustrations mirror what is a very accessible and relatable cautionary tale. The changing background color of the sky creates a sense of action and movement that helps propel the story forward. The illustrators do a tremendous job of capturing the wide range of emotions expressed by Azban: pride, fear, anger, helplessness, and sadness. One critique I have is that the illustrations of the rock don’t really match the august term used to describe it, which is “Grandfather.”
My daughters both liked the story, and my five-year-old asked me if it was a true story. I did my best to explain the idea of a pour quoi tale (without using that term). She seemed to understand, but she had a hard time conceiving of how the ants were able to stretch Azban back out after being crushed by the rock. I told her I felt the same way. A few days later, though, we saw a single ant carrying a ladybug across the parking lot at her preschool. I told her that ants were very strong, and maybe that’s how they stretched out the raccoon at the end of this story. I could almost see the light come on above her head as she said “Oh, yeah!” It was a great connection that brought together a folk tale, nature, and a father and daughter. I’m very glad I chose to read this book with her and that we could share in a process of discovery together.
Kirkus. 2004. Kirkus Reviews 72(20). October 15. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/index?page=1&pos=0&isbn=9780803729773
Big, Bad, and Hilarious
Moser, Barry. 2001. THE THREE LITTLE PIGS. New York: Little, Brown, and Company. ISBN 0316585440
It’s hard to imagine what more could be done with this well-known beast tale, but Barry Moser rises to the challenge. Gillian Engberg (2001) said in her review for Booklist that it is a “solid, humorous retelling,” and that “Moser stays close to the traditional story.” I agree completely. The popular refrains are all here, from “not by the hair of my chinny chin chin” to all of the huffing and puffing by the big bad wolf.
The story begins with the three pigs going in different directions when they leave home on Valentine’s Day. The first pig finds a man with straw, and uses this to build its house. True to the folktale, the wolf blows the straw house down and eats the foolish pig. The second pig, less foolish but no luckier, obtains wood to build its house. Once again, the wolf blows the house down and eats the second pig. The third pig, far wiser than the other two, builds its house from bricks. The wolf cannot blow it down, so he attempts to trick the pig into coming outside. The pig makes the wolf look foolish in his attempts, and the wolf is so incensed that he climbs down the chimney into a boiling pot. The third pig then eats the wolf, and “was never troubled by a wolf again.”
The lighthearted style of the illustrations helps tone down what is essentially a violent story. Moser uses a variety of humorous elements throughout the story, like the bag of “Wolfe Pruf Cement” the third pig uses to construct its brick house. When the wolf eats the second pig, we see empty bottles of sauce at his side that say things like “Excellent on Pork!” The third pig has a book by its chimney with the words “Harley Rhode Hogg’s Wolf Cook” written on the spine. Overall, the illustrations embody a whimsical, lighthearted mood and accurately captures the raucous emotions that change with each page. The pigs do everything from pick noses to break wind, while the anger of the wolf at the end is captured in vivid detail. And while I understand the choice of Moser to have the wolf fall into the pot ‘off stage’ and not illustrate that moment specifically, I think a picture of the wolf at least entering the chimney could have given the story a fuller rendering.
My ten-year-old daughter, who is quite familiar with this story, was old enough to notice many of the humorous elements in the illustration I mentioned earlier. After spotting the first one, she looked for them throughout the rest of the book. It gave a new twist for her on an old story. She particularly liked the last page where the pig is wearing wolf slippers as it drains a bowl of "wolf stew." My five-year-old daughter was content with repeating familiar phrases and laughing at the funny faces the characters made throughout. This is great read that I highly recommend.
Engberg, Gillian. 2001. Booklist 97(19). June 1. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/index?page=1&pos=0&isbn=3165854457732
It’s hard to imagine what more could be done with this well-known beast tale, but Barry Moser rises to the challenge. Gillian Engberg (2001) said in her review for Booklist that it is a “solid, humorous retelling,” and that “Moser stays close to the traditional story.” I agree completely. The popular refrains are all here, from “not by the hair of my chinny chin chin” to all of the huffing and puffing by the big bad wolf.
The story begins with the three pigs going in different directions when they leave home on Valentine’s Day. The first pig finds a man with straw, and uses this to build its house. True to the folktale, the wolf blows the straw house down and eats the foolish pig. The second pig, less foolish but no luckier, obtains wood to build its house. Once again, the wolf blows the house down and eats the second pig. The third pig, far wiser than the other two, builds its house from bricks. The wolf cannot blow it down, so he attempts to trick the pig into coming outside. The pig makes the wolf look foolish in his attempts, and the wolf is so incensed that he climbs down the chimney into a boiling pot. The third pig then eats the wolf, and “was never troubled by a wolf again.”
The lighthearted style of the illustrations helps tone down what is essentially a violent story. Moser uses a variety of humorous elements throughout the story, like the bag of “Wolfe Pruf Cement” the third pig uses to construct its brick house. When the wolf eats the second pig, we see empty bottles of sauce at his side that say things like “Excellent on Pork!” The third pig has a book by its chimney with the words “Harley Rhode Hogg’s Wolf Cook” written on the spine. Overall, the illustrations embody a whimsical, lighthearted mood and accurately captures the raucous emotions that change with each page. The pigs do everything from pick noses to break wind, while the anger of the wolf at the end is captured in vivid detail. And while I understand the choice of Moser to have the wolf fall into the pot ‘off stage’ and not illustrate that moment specifically, I think a picture of the wolf at least entering the chimney could have given the story a fuller rendering.
My ten-year-old daughter, who is quite familiar with this story, was old enough to notice many of the humorous elements in the illustration I mentioned earlier. After spotting the first one, she looked for them throughout the rest of the book. It gave a new twist for her on an old story. She particularly liked the last page where the pig is wearing wolf slippers as it drains a bowl of "wolf stew." My five-year-old daughter was content with repeating familiar phrases and laughing at the funny faces the characters made throughout. This is great read that I highly recommend.
Engberg, Gillian. 2001. Booklist 97(19). June 1. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/index?page=1&pos=0&isbn=3165854457732
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Art as Freedom
Hill, Laban Carrick. 2010. DAVE THE POTTER: ARTIST, POET, SLAVE. Ill. By Bryan Collier. New York: Little, Brown and Company. ISBN 978-0316107310
This picture book is a stunningly illustrated biography of an artist named Dave who lived as a slave in South Carolina in the early to middle nineteenth century. The book has been included in a wide range of reading lists, best books, and it won the Coretta Scott King Book Award for Illustrations in 2011. Kirkus Reviews called it a “visually stunning homage to an important African-American artist,” though the reviewer noted a “questionable omission of facts about Dave's emancipation” (Kirkus 2010). This was something I didn’t know about until this review, and it seems like a big gap that could have been easily filled.
The book follows Dave through the process of making a pot. He scoops the dirt, forms the clay, throws it on the wheel, and spins a pot. At the end of the story, Dave inscribes a short poem on the still-wet clay. After the story, there is a brief section about the life of the artist (with the omission that he was ever emancipated, as noted by Kirkus) that includes more poetry inscriptions and a photo of some actual pots that David created.
The illustrations in this book are simply stunning. The muted colors throughout remind us that David is not free from the cloud of slavery that always hangs over him. The pictures brilliantly illustrate the spiritual journey that David experiences in the creation of his artwork. He is encompassed by it, and it figuratively is large enough to embrace him, but it remains just out of reach: "If he climbed into the jar/ and curled into a ball,/ he would have been embraced.” As the pot is nearing its final form on the wheel, the pages unfold to reveal a continuous narrative of formation longer than the book itself. The artist then finishes his creation by inscribing a poem. His spiritual journey is complete, a bright spot in an otherwise bleak condition.
I found that my older daughter liked the story of Dave making the pot better, and my younger daughter liked the nonfiction part at the end that gave more factual information. The change between the two sections of the book seemed abrupt, and I wonder if it could have been blended better for a more smooth transition. All in all, I really liked this book. It’s a very poetic way to present the biography of an incredible artist.
Kirkus. 2010. Kirkus Reviews 78(16). August 15. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/index?page=1&pos=0&isbn=9780316107310
This picture book is a stunningly illustrated biography of an artist named Dave who lived as a slave in South Carolina in the early to middle nineteenth century. The book has been included in a wide range of reading lists, best books, and it won the Coretta Scott King Book Award for Illustrations in 2011. Kirkus Reviews called it a “visually stunning homage to an important African-American artist,” though the reviewer noted a “questionable omission of facts about Dave's emancipation” (Kirkus 2010). This was something I didn’t know about until this review, and it seems like a big gap that could have been easily filled.
The book follows Dave through the process of making a pot. He scoops the dirt, forms the clay, throws it on the wheel, and spins a pot. At the end of the story, Dave inscribes a short poem on the still-wet clay. After the story, there is a brief section about the life of the artist (with the omission that he was ever emancipated, as noted by Kirkus) that includes more poetry inscriptions and a photo of some actual pots that David created.
The illustrations in this book are simply stunning. The muted colors throughout remind us that David is not free from the cloud of slavery that always hangs over him. The pictures brilliantly illustrate the spiritual journey that David experiences in the creation of his artwork. He is encompassed by it, and it figuratively is large enough to embrace him, but it remains just out of reach: "If he climbed into the jar/ and curled into a ball,/ he would have been embraced.” As the pot is nearing its final form on the wheel, the pages unfold to reveal a continuous narrative of formation longer than the book itself. The artist then finishes his creation by inscribing a poem. His spiritual journey is complete, a bright spot in an otherwise bleak condition.
I found that my older daughter liked the story of Dave making the pot better, and my younger daughter liked the nonfiction part at the end that gave more factual information. The change between the two sections of the book seemed abrupt, and I wonder if it could have been blended better for a more smooth transition. All in all, I really liked this book. It’s a very poetic way to present the biography of an incredible artist.
Kirkus. 2010. Kirkus Reviews 78(16). August 15. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/index?page=1&pos=0&isbn=9780316107310
Count On It
Lewin, Betsy. 1981. CAT COUNT. New York: Henry Hold and Company. ISBN 978-0805067477
This is a fun feline book to read with children of all ages. Lewin creates a whimsical cast of cat characters with her artwork while simultaneously weaving a web of rhyme and repetition that captures children’s imaginations. Booklist said “children just learning how to count will be entranced by this colorful, energetic book” (Foote 2003). I couldn’t agree more.
As the book progresses, the narrator introduces more and more cats. In the upper right hand corner of each page where new cats are introduced, a plus sign followed by the number of cats invites readers to add the cats as they go. At the end of several pages, the narrator asks the reader to count the cats that have been introduced in the story so far. This happens three different times throughout the story. Instead of giving a total of all the cats in the book at the end of the third section, the final words of the book are “Too many cats!” But—surprise! The copyright page has a cat staring at the addition equation for all three sections just above the publication information. Now we know how many cats.
Lewin’s fast-moving, short lines are punctuated with a heavy end rhyme that creates a steady rhythm reminiscent of Dr. Seuss. Speaking of end rhyme, count how many times she uses the word “cat” if you dare (hint: it’s more than 40!). I got a little tired of the word "cat" after a while, and I wonder if she could have come up with more rhymes instead of using the word so much. Still, she somehow smoothly transitions between scenes of cats in church, cats at a disco, cats on a high wire, and cats in tophats. Lewin does a great job of creating a sense of movement with her illustrations, capturing the effect of lights splashing across a dance floor, falling confetti, and the ferocity of cats knitting the night away. And just when you think the cast of cat characters is complete, our first cat character has kittens. Now we can see Lewin’s foreshadowing from page one: the first cat had been described as "fat."
I read this to both my four- and ten-year-old daughters. Both girls enjoyed the book. My four-year-old is actually quite interested in math and numbers, and she was thrilled to be able to count along in the first section. After the numbers got too high for her, she started counting the cats on individual pages instead, and that held her attention throughout the book. My ten-year-old enjoyed counting throughout the whole book, and she obviously comprehended the addition equations at the end with more sophistication than my four-year-old. It was a nice book that both girls asked to read again. I highly recommend this book.
Foote, Diane. 2003. Booklist 99(15). April 1. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/indexpage=1&pos=0&isbn=9780805067477
This is a fun feline book to read with children of all ages. Lewin creates a whimsical cast of cat characters with her artwork while simultaneously weaving a web of rhyme and repetition that captures children’s imaginations. Booklist said “children just learning how to count will be entranced by this colorful, energetic book” (Foote 2003). I couldn’t agree more.
As the book progresses, the narrator introduces more and more cats. In the upper right hand corner of each page where new cats are introduced, a plus sign followed by the number of cats invites readers to add the cats as they go. At the end of several pages, the narrator asks the reader to count the cats that have been introduced in the story so far. This happens three different times throughout the story. Instead of giving a total of all the cats in the book at the end of the third section, the final words of the book are “Too many cats!” But—surprise! The copyright page has a cat staring at the addition equation for all three sections just above the publication information. Now we know how many cats.
Lewin’s fast-moving, short lines are punctuated with a heavy end rhyme that creates a steady rhythm reminiscent of Dr. Seuss. Speaking of end rhyme, count how many times she uses the word “cat” if you dare (hint: it’s more than 40!). I got a little tired of the word "cat" after a while, and I wonder if she could have come up with more rhymes instead of using the word so much. Still, she somehow smoothly transitions between scenes of cats in church, cats at a disco, cats on a high wire, and cats in tophats. Lewin does a great job of creating a sense of movement with her illustrations, capturing the effect of lights splashing across a dance floor, falling confetti, and the ferocity of cats knitting the night away. And just when you think the cast of cat characters is complete, our first cat character has kittens. Now we can see Lewin’s foreshadowing from page one: the first cat had been described as "fat."
I read this to both my four- and ten-year-old daughters. Both girls enjoyed the book. My four-year-old is actually quite interested in math and numbers, and she was thrilled to be able to count along in the first section. After the numbers got too high for her, she started counting the cats on individual pages instead, and that held her attention throughout the book. My ten-year-old enjoyed counting throughout the whole book, and she obviously comprehended the addition equations at the end with more sophistication than my four-year-old. It was a nice book that both girls asked to read again. I highly recommend this book.
Foote, Diane. 2003. Booklist 99(15). April 1. Children’s Literature Comprehensive Database, Texas Woman’s University. http://ezproxy.twu.edu:4529/index.php/bookdetail/indexpage=1&pos=0&isbn=9780805067477
Nothing New
Brown, Margaret Wise. 1947. GOODNIGHT MOON. Ill. by Clement Hurd. New York: Harper and Row. ISBN 978-0694003617
Here I go, pretending I have something new to say about Goodnight Moon. What more can be said of this powerhouse children’s classic that hasn’t been said by smarter people with bigger words over the past 66 years? What new insight could I possibly bring? The very thought.
Let’s just state the obvious, shall we? It’s no big secret that the mouse eats the mush in the end, moving on its parallel course as a separate graphic narrative. It’s not hard to observe that the clock at the beginning of the story shows 7:00, and on the last page shows 8:10. The copy of Goodnight Moon on the coffee table is hard to miss. Then there are the pictures on the wall from other books, like The Runaway Bunny, also written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd). Are you bored with the same old information yet? My mundane interpretations of the use of light in Hurd’s artwork have probably been the subject of someone’s doctoral dissertation, and my thoughts about the telephone as a metaphor for unavoidable change would be one in a sea of better written, better researched opinions. The only thing that could possibly make the book any better is if a few more pages were in color, and I hesitate to say even that.
Here’s what I can say. I didn’t read Goodnight Moon until I started reading to my own children 10 years ago. With my first daughter, we discovered all the little details together, discovering excitedly the course of the mouse, the clock, the moon. We talked about what it might mean that the lamp light goes out but the dollhouse light stays lit (I think it's a symbol of the imagination, but what do I know). Reading this book and unraveling its hidden joys with my daughter was an incredible experience, and taught us both to look at picture books differently from that point on. I shared the book a second time with my other daughter a few years later, leading her subtly to her own process of discovery. Watching them both get excited about this book showed me first-hand the power of Goodnight Moon in particular, and of quality picture books in general. Maybe it was nothing new, but it was all new to us, and that was enough.
Here I go, pretending I have something new to say about Goodnight Moon. What more can be said of this powerhouse children’s classic that hasn’t been said by smarter people with bigger words over the past 66 years? What new insight could I possibly bring? The very thought.
Let’s just state the obvious, shall we? It’s no big secret that the mouse eats the mush in the end, moving on its parallel course as a separate graphic narrative. It’s not hard to observe that the clock at the beginning of the story shows 7:00, and on the last page shows 8:10. The copy of Goodnight Moon on the coffee table is hard to miss. Then there are the pictures on the wall from other books, like The Runaway Bunny, also written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd). Are you bored with the same old information yet? My mundane interpretations of the use of light in Hurd’s artwork have probably been the subject of someone’s doctoral dissertation, and my thoughts about the telephone as a metaphor for unavoidable change would be one in a sea of better written, better researched opinions. The only thing that could possibly make the book any better is if a few more pages were in color, and I hesitate to say even that.
Here’s what I can say. I didn’t read Goodnight Moon until I started reading to my own children 10 years ago. With my first daughter, we discovered all the little details together, discovering excitedly the course of the mouse, the clock, the moon. We talked about what it might mean that the lamp light goes out but the dollhouse light stays lit (I think it's a symbol of the imagination, but what do I know). Reading this book and unraveling its hidden joys with my daughter was an incredible experience, and taught us both to look at picture books differently from that point on. I shared the book a second time with my other daughter a few years later, leading her subtly to her own process of discovery. Watching them both get excited about this book showed me first-hand the power of Goodnight Moon in particular, and of quality picture books in general. Maybe it was nothing new, but it was all new to us, and that was enough.
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