Hesse, Karen. 1997. Out of the Dust. New York: Scholastic Press. ISBN 0-590-36080-9.
I have to admit that when I read this book over winter break, my first thought was something along the lines of, “Oh, no.” I had just been reading Jon Sciezca on why boys don’t read, and the fact that the 1997 Newbery Award had gone to a (1) grim (2) free-verse (3) historical novel (4) about a girl (5) with nothing funny and no action sequences in it seemed like a quintuple-whammy to any boys out there hoping to find something they’d like to read.
Which isn’t to say the book isn’t excellent. Billie Jo, the protagonist, is tough as nails while still able to articulate the pain of her incredibly difficult life in Oklahoma during the Depression. The imagery conveys a sense of the time and place and, most of all, of the relentless dust that slowly smothers everything, including hope. Billie Jo's teacher even gives a lesson in why the Dust Bowl happened: farmers overproducing to pay for new equipment bought to produce for markets in Europe that no longer exist.
I think it would be a stretch for most kids to identify with Billie Jo’s stoic acceptance which leads to inner transformation: kids approve of action and want their books' protagonists to overcome obstacles more spectacularly. And I think kids will naturally have even more trouble understanding the longings and frustrations of Billie Jo’s parents. This isn’t because Hesse doesn’t portray them well: she does. But kids aren’t familiar with the mid-life examen or the responsibility of making and providing for a family. While Billie Jo comes to an understanding of her father by the end of the novel, I wonder how many young readers can follow her there, and I wonder how much the story is diminished by not really understanding the adult characters.
I would provide this book for much older readers, in high school or college. I think it could easily be an excellent adult novel and would probably find a more appreciative audience that way. Every book with a child protagonist doesn’t automatically have to be a children’s book, after all.
Kirkus reviews said, “[T]his is an unremittingly bleak portrait of one corner of Depression-era life. In Billie Jo, the only character who comes to life, Hesse (The Music of Dolphins, 1996, etc.) presents a hale and determined heroine…. The poem/novel ends with only a trace of hope; there are no pat endings, but a glimpse of beauty wrought from brutal reality.”
Kirkus Reviews, qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/product-description/0590360809/ref=dp_proddesc_0/103-0423122-5982232?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books .
Friday, February 23, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
A Dime a Dozen
Grimes, Nikki. 1998. A Dime a Dozen. Ill. by Angelo. New York: Dial Books. ISBN 0-8037-2227-3.
The title of this book of autobiographical poems about Nikki Grimes’ childhood comes from what her mother said when Grimes said she wanted to be a writer: writers are “a dime a dozen.” Through these poems, the narrator explores what it means to differentiate herself from the other members of her family and chart her own course. Examining everything from the color of her skin and texture of her hair to the way to make potato salad, she tries - sometimes with confidence and sometimes uncertainly - to be herself as well as embracing the positive qualities of her family.
The family members – sister, mother, father, and grandmother – are well-rounded characters (the grandmother, arguing about the right way to peel potatoes, is especially well done). The black and white illustrations by Angelo add to the characterizations with touches like the father’s iconic beret. The themes are universal while the details offer a realistic portrayal of African-American culture.
The poems themselves are short, some free verse and some more heavily rhymed. They often deal with a particular moment that nevertheless has a larger meaning in the narrator’s life and quest for self-definition. I would read selections from this book aloud over a period of several days so that children could get the feel of the narrator’s experience – but not too many at once, so we could all have time to think over the meaning.
Shawn Brommer, writing in School Library Journal, calls this “A quietly profound, heartfelt work.”
Brommer, Shawn. School Library Journal. Qtd in Amazon.com.
http://www.amazon.com/Dime-Dozen-Nikki-Grimes/dp/0803722273/sr=1-2/qid=1172185293/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2/103-0423122-5982232?ie=UTF8&s=books.
The title of this book of autobiographical poems about Nikki Grimes’ childhood comes from what her mother said when Grimes said she wanted to be a writer: writers are “a dime a dozen.” Through these poems, the narrator explores what it means to differentiate herself from the other members of her family and chart her own course. Examining everything from the color of her skin and texture of her hair to the way to make potato salad, she tries - sometimes with confidence and sometimes uncertainly - to be herself as well as embracing the positive qualities of her family.
The family members – sister, mother, father, and grandmother – are well-rounded characters (the grandmother, arguing about the right way to peel potatoes, is especially well done). The black and white illustrations by Angelo add to the characterizations with touches like the father’s iconic beret. The themes are universal while the details offer a realistic portrayal of African-American culture.
The poems themselves are short, some free verse and some more heavily rhymed. They often deal with a particular moment that nevertheless has a larger meaning in the narrator’s life and quest for self-definition. I would read selections from this book aloud over a period of several days so that children could get the feel of the narrator’s experience – but not too many at once, so we could all have time to think over the meaning.
Shawn Brommer, writing in School Library Journal, calls this “A quietly profound, heartfelt work.”
Brommer, Shawn. School Library Journal. Qtd in Amazon.com.
http://www.amazon.com/Dime-Dozen-Nikki-Grimes/dp/0803722273/sr=1-2/qid=1172185293/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2/103-0423122-5982232?ie=UTF8&s=books.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Mammalabilia
Florian, Douglas. 2000. Mammalabilia. San Diego, CA: Harcourt. ISBN 0-15-202167-1.
This picture book of mammal poems, illustrated by the author with paintings done on primed brown-paper bags, is a great choice for kids who claim not to like poetry. The poems feature animals from the familiar (bear, fox, giraffe) to the unusual (rhebok, tapir, ibex). They are short (some only two or three lines), heavily rhymed, and often funny.
Some of Florian’s poems are concrete or have concrete elements, like “The Porcupine” and “The Lemurs.” One, “The Zebras,” is a puzzle, along with its accompanying picture – can you see as many zebras in the painting as the poems’ narrators can? In all cases the whimsical pictures are as much of a commentary on the animals as the poems are. In an illustration for “The Mule,” a poem with the last line “Rule of the mule: stay,” the mule in question is literally rooted to the ground, its four legs becoming tree trunks, one with a woodpecker perched and pecking on it.
I can’t imagine this book not being a hit or not lending itself to all kinds of activities. For one thing, the technique of painting on a brown-paper bag is easy to accomplish, meaning that kids can illustrate their own animal poems in the same style as the book. I can imagine grouping the poems into categories with kids – Which poems feature animals talking about their lives? Which poems feature someone else talking about the animal? Would the animal say the same thing about itself that the narrator did, if it were doing the telling? (Maybe the rhebok doesn’t think its “Main/ claim to fame/ is its name”!) I can also imagine integrating this book into lessons about animals, pairing the poem about the animal with facts about its life.
Barbara Chatton, in School Library Journal, calls this book “a zoological garden of delights.”
Chatton, Barbara. School Library Journal. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/product-description/0152050248/ref=dp_proddesc_0/103-0423122-5982232?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books
This picture book of mammal poems, illustrated by the author with paintings done on primed brown-paper bags, is a great choice for kids who claim not to like poetry. The poems feature animals from the familiar (bear, fox, giraffe) to the unusual (rhebok, tapir, ibex). They are short (some only two or three lines), heavily rhymed, and often funny.
Some of Florian’s poems are concrete or have concrete elements, like “The Porcupine” and “The Lemurs.” One, “The Zebras,” is a puzzle, along with its accompanying picture – can you see as many zebras in the painting as the poems’ narrators can? In all cases the whimsical pictures are as much of a commentary on the animals as the poems are. In an illustration for “The Mule,” a poem with the last line “Rule of the mule: stay,” the mule in question is literally rooted to the ground, its four legs becoming tree trunks, one with a woodpecker perched and pecking on it.
I can’t imagine this book not being a hit or not lending itself to all kinds of activities. For one thing, the technique of painting on a brown-paper bag is easy to accomplish, meaning that kids can illustrate their own animal poems in the same style as the book. I can imagine grouping the poems into categories with kids – Which poems feature animals talking about their lives? Which poems feature someone else talking about the animal? Would the animal say the same thing about itself that the narrator did, if it were doing the telling? (Maybe the rhebok doesn’t think its “Main/ claim to fame/ is its name”!) I can also imagine integrating this book into lessons about animals, pairing the poem about the animal with facts about its life.
Barbara Chatton, in School Library Journal, calls this book “a zoological garden of delights.”
Chatton, Barbara. School Library Journal. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/product-description/0152050248/ref=dp_proddesc_0/103-0423122-5982232?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters
Steptoe, John (1987). Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters. New York: Lothrop, Lee, and Shepard Books. ISBN 0-688-04046-2.
Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters, a Caldecott honor winner and a Reading Rainbow book, is a gorgeous book with lush illustrations that depict the landscape and architecture of Zimbabwe. John Steptoe retells a traditional variant of the Cinderella story about two sisters, one kind and one haughty, who must travel to the great city to be considered as a wife for the king. On the journey they show their true colors, and kind Nyasha, not conceited Manyara, is chosen to be the queen.
Elements in the story that children might recognize from other fairy tales include the test to see who is worthy to be queen, the friendly animal who keeps the main character company (in this case, a snake), the old woman whose advice the good sister takes and the bad sister ignores, and the kind but clueless father who doesn’t notice the rivalry going on between the sisters.
I put my face right up to the pages of this book to try to see how Steptoe created the gorgeous images. I was glad to see in a School Library Journal review that my guess was right – they are watercolor with two different colors of pen, blue and black. I’m anxious to try this technique out myself!
Details in the illustrations include beautiful plants and animals and buildings based on the Great Zimbabwe Ruins.
Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters is also an excellent multicultural book because of its accurate portrayal of the culture of Zimbabwe and because it is a folktale collected from people living in the region. (There is even a pronunciation guide to help those who are reading the story aloud.) It’s particularly bracing as a counterpoint to the thousands of books in which the princess is a blonde, blue-eyed white girl in a pink dress!
Helen Williams, writing in School Library Journal, says, “The expressive drawings of people and events enhance the story and serve to strengthen readers' familiarity with traditional African culture. A magnificently illustrated book, filled with rich textures and vibrant color, and a story that will satisfy young romantics as well as those with a strong sense of justice.”
While looking online I found some gorgeous pictures of a production of a play based on this story by the Lexington Children's theater. I think this would make a good story for children to produce as a play, with the pictures to inspire their costume designs!
Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters, a Caldecott honor winner and a Reading Rainbow book, is a gorgeous book with lush illustrations that depict the landscape and architecture of Zimbabwe. John Steptoe retells a traditional variant of the Cinderella story about two sisters, one kind and one haughty, who must travel to the great city to be considered as a wife for the king. On the journey they show their true colors, and kind Nyasha, not conceited Manyara, is chosen to be the queen.
Elements in the story that children might recognize from other fairy tales include the test to see who is worthy to be queen, the friendly animal who keeps the main character company (in this case, a snake), the old woman whose advice the good sister takes and the bad sister ignores, and the kind but clueless father who doesn’t notice the rivalry going on between the sisters.
I put my face right up to the pages of this book to try to see how Steptoe created the gorgeous images. I was glad to see in a School Library Journal review that my guess was right – they are watercolor with two different colors of pen, blue and black. I’m anxious to try this technique out myself!
Details in the illustrations include beautiful plants and animals and buildings based on the Great Zimbabwe Ruins.
Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters is also an excellent multicultural book because of its accurate portrayal of the culture of Zimbabwe and because it is a folktale collected from people living in the region. (There is even a pronunciation guide to help those who are reading the story aloud.) It’s particularly bracing as a counterpoint to the thousands of books in which the princess is a blonde, blue-eyed white girl in a pink dress!
Helen Williams, writing in School Library Journal, says, “The expressive drawings of people and events enhance the story and serve to strengthen readers' familiarity with traditional African culture. A magnificently illustrated book, filled with rich textures and vibrant color, and a story that will satisfy young romantics as well as those with a strong sense of justice.”
While looking online I found some gorgeous pictures of a production of a play based on this story by the Lexington Children's theater. I think this would make a good story for children to produce as a play, with the pictures to inspire their costume designs!
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark
Schwartz, Alvin. 1981. Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Ill. by Stephen Gammell. New York: HarperCollins. ISBN 0-06-440170-7.
When I first opened the reading list for class I wasn’t sure why Scary Stories was in the “Traditional Literature” section. But when I read the book I understood. Schwartz didn’t write these stories; he compiled them from various collections and from stories told to him. Some of them are very old folktales, some are urban legends, but none have identified authors.
The stories have many characteristics of traditional literature. We don’t find out much about the characters, and the settings are similarly sketchy – often just “a haunted house” or “a field” or “near a lake.” The payoff in reading them comes from the resolution of the simple plot. And despite the title, the resolution is as likely to come in the form of a joke or a gross-out as a real atmospheric scare. (Witness the end of “Wait Till Martin Comes” or “The Slithery-Dee” for examples.)
The black-and-white illustrations by Gammell strike just the right note to accompany the stories. Many of the illustrations are nods to the stories’ roots in history; the hearse illustrating “The Hearse Song,” for instance, looks like it’s from the same era as a Model T. The paperback edition I checked out of the library has a shiny silver cover with an actively-decomposing, running man on it – sure to give street cred to any kid who is seen carrying the book around.
There’s a section of notes at the end of the stories and an introduction at the beginning. The introduction seems targeted to young readers, giving pointers on how best to tell a scary story. The notes seem geared more for adults, although kids who’ve read the book and who don’t balk at words like “publications” and “antecedents” might find that the notes are interesting for the extra details – and even a couple more stories, told briefly – that they include.
This book would be great in a Halloween display, with its eye-catching (not to say freaky) cover art. Booklist says, “Sure to provoke chills along the spine” (book jacket).
To say that this book and its two sequels are very popular at our library is a huge understatement. It’s difficult to turn the pages of the copy I read because they’re so worn down. Louisa May Alcott once wrote that her goal was for her books to have the dirtiest covers of any books in the library. By that measure this book is a big success!
When I first opened the reading list for class I wasn’t sure why Scary Stories was in the “Traditional Literature” section. But when I read the book I understood. Schwartz didn’t write these stories; he compiled them from various collections and from stories told to him. Some of them are very old folktales, some are urban legends, but none have identified authors.
The stories have many characteristics of traditional literature. We don’t find out much about the characters, and the settings are similarly sketchy – often just “a haunted house” or “a field” or “near a lake.” The payoff in reading them comes from the resolution of the simple plot. And despite the title, the resolution is as likely to come in the form of a joke or a gross-out as a real atmospheric scare. (Witness the end of “Wait Till Martin Comes” or “The Slithery-Dee” for examples.)
The black-and-white illustrations by Gammell strike just the right note to accompany the stories. Many of the illustrations are nods to the stories’ roots in history; the hearse illustrating “The Hearse Song,” for instance, looks like it’s from the same era as a Model T. The paperback edition I checked out of the library has a shiny silver cover with an actively-decomposing, running man on it – sure to give street cred to any kid who is seen carrying the book around.
There’s a section of notes at the end of the stories and an introduction at the beginning. The introduction seems targeted to young readers, giving pointers on how best to tell a scary story. The notes seem geared more for adults, although kids who’ve read the book and who don’t balk at words like “publications” and “antecedents” might find that the notes are interesting for the extra details – and even a couple more stories, told briefly – that they include.
This book would be great in a Halloween display, with its eye-catching (not to say freaky) cover art. Booklist says, “Sure to provoke chills along the spine” (book jacket).
To say that this book and its two sequels are very popular at our library is a huge understatement. It’s difficult to turn the pages of the copy I read because they’re so worn down. Louisa May Alcott once wrote that her goal was for her books to have the dirtiest covers of any books in the library. By that measure this book is a big success!
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