Smith, Cynthia Leitich. Rain is Not My Indian Name. 2001. New York: Harper Collins. ISBN 0-688-17397-7.
With a dead mother, a dead best friend, and cultural prejudice all figuring into the plot, it seems as if Rain is Not My Indian Name would hardly be able to transcend being a stereotypical “problem novel.” But because of Cynthia Leitich Smith’s deft handling and big heart, it does. Instead, it’s a nuanced portrait of a wise and thoughtful young woman, both specific and universal, that leaves readers satisfied and maybe a little wiser themselves.
The plot revolves around both Rain’s struggles with her best friend’s death and a summer technology program for Native American youth that Rain’s aunt wants the city to pay for. But there’s much more going on even than that. The book is a slice of life, with all that entails, rather than a neat and self-contained sequence of events. At the end we sense that Rain has reached a new place even as some of the plot threads go on without being resolved, just as they would in real life.
Rain employs shifting cultural markers throughout her story. At times she refers to herself as Indian, but she also points out that the only “Indian” family in her town is from India. She struggles with whether or not to purchase a dreamcatcher, wondering if it’s a fakelore souvenir. She doesn’t know as much as she wants to about her own heritage. At times, the biggest cultural influence on her actions isn’t a Native American culture, but generic small-town American. This multivalence rings true. People within a parallel culture don’t somehow absorb the culture whole at birth, but must choose when and how to embody their culture, sometimes changing their choices at different times in their lives.
In her blog, Smith points out that the book shows an “emphasis on engineering and technology, which cuts against the stereotype of the Native primitive.” She also says that it’s one of the first contemporary-fiction books with a “mixed blood” protagonist in which being Native American isn’t in itself the conflict in the book. (August 21, 2004.)
This story would provide lots of food for thought and discussion in a teen book club. Many kids of mixed heritage, whatever that heritage is, will find Rain's observations to ring true.
In School Library Journal, Carol Edwards says, “There is a surprising amount of
humor in this tender novel. It is one of the best portrayals around of kids whose heritage is mixed but still very important in their lives.”
School Library Journal. Qtd. In Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/Rain-Not-My-Indian-Name/dp/0688173977/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1184354651&sr=1-1.
Smith, Cynthia Leitich. August 21, 2004.Cynsations. “Rain is Not My Indian Name.” http://cynthialeitichsmith.blogspot.com/2004/08/rain-is-not-my-indian-name.html.
Friday, July 13, 2007
How Chipmunk Got His Stripes
Bruchac, Joseph, and James Bruchac. 2001. How Chipmunk Got His Stripes. Ill by Jose Aruego and Ariane Dewey. New York: Dial Books. ISBN 0-8037-2404-7.
The fact that the father-and-son Bruchacs, who are both Abenaki, are used to telling stories out loud is evident in this spirited book. It retains the flavor and rhythm of an oral story and practically begs to be read out loud.
Chipmunk's legend, told by Native Americans of several different East Coast nations, involves a boastful bear who thinks he can stop the sun from rising and a small squirrel who calls him on his boast. Unfortunately, the squirrel can't resist teasing Bear when Bear turns out to be wrong, and the squirrel's narrow escape leaves him branded with stripes - turning him into Chipmunk.
With the themes of boasting and teasing, this story is bound to strike a chord with kids, and it's no wonder that James Bruchac says in the introduction that he's told the story to children "hundreds of times." The story's provenance is clearly explained in the authors' notes so that teachers and parents can be confident that it's an authentic Native American story rather than "fakelore."
The cartoon-style watercolor and ink illustrations are colorful and generally appealing, although I thought that the characters' facial expressions were consistently hard to read. Except for Bear's grumpy scowl and Chipmunk's wide-eyed fright, it's hard to tell what emotions the rest of the animals are meant to be showing (and in some cases, even hard to tell whether they're meant to be smiling or not).
Publisher's Weekly says, "The prose occasionally falters," but I didn't agree with this at all. PW's examples of faltering prose ("Everyone was happy except for one animal. That animal was Bear.") were invariably the times when I could most hear the voice of a storyteller telling the story out loud, and I wondered if the reviewer was judging by the standards of written rather than oral prose. PW also said "Aruego and Dewey(Antarctica Antics) create lush landscapes, but Bear and Brown Squirrel are uncharacteristically bland, often featuring the same facial expressions repeatedly."
In contrast, Grace Oliff, a reviewer in School Library Journal, called this book "...polished, cohesive, and energetic. While the story begs to be told, Aruego and Dewey's vibrantly hued trademark watercolors add significantly to the humor. A priority purchase for most collections."
And the Oyate review of this book says, "The Bruchacs’ rendition of this old story of how little Brown Squirrel becomes Chipmunk just jumps off the pages.... The youngest listeners will be begging to hear this one over and over."
Given what I saw as sub-par illustrations, and the wonderful oral quality of the story, I would definitely choose to read this story aloud, or possibly even memorize it so that I could tell it without the book. It would be great fun to invite kids to participate on the choruses of "The sun will not come up, hummph!" and "The sun is going to rise, oooh!"
Oliff, Grace. School Library Journal. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/How-Chipmunk-Stripes-Picture-Puffins/dp/0142500216/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1184334751&sr=1-1.
Oyate. "Preschool and Up: From Joseph Bruchac (Abenaki) and James Bruchac (Abenaki)." http://www.oyate.org/catalog/preschool.html.
Publishers Weekly. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/How-Chipmunk-Stripes-Picture-Puffins/dp/0142500216/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1184334751&sr=1-1.
The fact that the father-and-son Bruchacs, who are both Abenaki, are used to telling stories out loud is evident in this spirited book. It retains the flavor and rhythm of an oral story and practically begs to be read out loud.
Chipmunk's legend, told by Native Americans of several different East Coast nations, involves a boastful bear who thinks he can stop the sun from rising and a small squirrel who calls him on his boast. Unfortunately, the squirrel can't resist teasing Bear when Bear turns out to be wrong, and the squirrel's narrow escape leaves him branded with stripes - turning him into Chipmunk.
With the themes of boasting and teasing, this story is bound to strike a chord with kids, and it's no wonder that James Bruchac says in the introduction that he's told the story to children "hundreds of times." The story's provenance is clearly explained in the authors' notes so that teachers and parents can be confident that it's an authentic Native American story rather than "fakelore."
The cartoon-style watercolor and ink illustrations are colorful and generally appealing, although I thought that the characters' facial expressions were consistently hard to read. Except for Bear's grumpy scowl and Chipmunk's wide-eyed fright, it's hard to tell what emotions the rest of the animals are meant to be showing (and in some cases, even hard to tell whether they're meant to be smiling or not).
Publisher's Weekly says, "The prose occasionally falters," but I didn't agree with this at all. PW's examples of faltering prose ("Everyone was happy except for one animal. That animal was Bear.") were invariably the times when I could most hear the voice of a storyteller telling the story out loud, and I wondered if the reviewer was judging by the standards of written rather than oral prose. PW also said "Aruego and Dewey(Antarctica Antics) create lush landscapes, but Bear and Brown Squirrel are uncharacteristically bland, often featuring the same facial expressions repeatedly."
In contrast, Grace Oliff, a reviewer in School Library Journal, called this book "...polished, cohesive, and energetic. While the story begs to be told, Aruego and Dewey's vibrantly hued trademark watercolors add significantly to the humor. A priority purchase for most collections."
And the Oyate review of this book says, "The Bruchacs’ rendition of this old story of how little Brown Squirrel becomes Chipmunk just jumps off the pages.... The youngest listeners will be begging to hear this one over and over."
Given what I saw as sub-par illustrations, and the wonderful oral quality of the story, I would definitely choose to read this story aloud, or possibly even memorize it so that I could tell it without the book. It would be great fun to invite kids to participate on the choruses of "The sun will not come up, hummph!" and "The sun is going to rise, oooh!"
Oliff, Grace. School Library Journal. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/How-Chipmunk-Stripes-Picture-Puffins/dp/0142500216/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1184334751&sr=1-1.
Oyate. "Preschool and Up: From Joseph Bruchac (Abenaki) and James Bruchac (Abenaki)." http://www.oyate.org/catalog/preschool.html.
Publishers Weekly. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/How-Chipmunk-Stripes-Picture-Puffins/dp/0142500216/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1184334751&sr=1-1.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Off and Running
Soto, Gary. 1996. Off and Running. Ill. by Eric Velasquez. New York: Delacorte. ISBN 0-385-32181-3.
Gary Soto's novel Off and Running captures protagonists Miata, Ana, Rudy, and Alex at a time in life that will resonate with a lot of readers - the stage when you can't believe how completely foreign the opposite sex is, and you can't figure out why you're so preoccupied with them either. Soto's characters are true to life and quickly seem like kids you might know. His descriptions of school and family life in a predominately Hispanic area include rich details, such as his narration of a quinceanera celebration.
Fifth-graders Miata and Ana are running against their schoolmates Rudy and Alex in the school elections. Miata wants to get rid of the graffiti and plant flowers to beautify the school. Rudy wants longer recess and more ice cream. The story unfolds through Miata's eyes as she plans her campaign and thinks about what she will do as president. Refreshingly, Soto avoids the overdone device of boys-against-girls and vice versa, and all four kids remain friends throughout the campaign, which ends in a way that satisfies everyone.
It's very clear why Soto is considered an exemplary author of multicultural children's books. The cultural markers in this story feel both abundant and authentic, from the music (Cielito Lindo and Donna) to the popularity of baseball and soccer. Hispanic characters are shown in a variety of occupations: the school principal, Miata's teacher, construction workers, a zookeeper, an elderly woman who used to be the mayor of her town in Mexico, and even the zookeeper's alter ego, a magician named Senor Gomez the Magnificent.
Erik Velasquez' illustrations are slightly dated, but that's something that can't be helped in realistic fiction. Soto's writing is often poetic, like when Miata eats an animal cracker shaped like a lion by putting "the lion to sleep on the bed of her pink tongue" (67).
I would read the first chapter of this book as a book talk and then give kids a chance to check it out. I think it's a story that would be very easy for kids of all ethnicities to appreciate.
Anne Connor said in School Library Journal, "This book offers an engaging look at student politics. But, more importantly, it is a realistic, warm portrayal of a Latino school in California: the kids, their families, and traditions. A humorous, light, good-natured story about everyday life in one community that will have great appeal for kids everywhere."
Connor, Anne. School Library Journal. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/Off-Running-Gary-Soto/dp/0440414326/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/104-1796065-2716726?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1183145578&sr=1-1.
Gary Soto's novel Off and Running captures protagonists Miata, Ana, Rudy, and Alex at a time in life that will resonate with a lot of readers - the stage when you can't believe how completely foreign the opposite sex is, and you can't figure out why you're so preoccupied with them either. Soto's characters are true to life and quickly seem like kids you might know. His descriptions of school and family life in a predominately Hispanic area include rich details, such as his narration of a quinceanera celebration.
Fifth-graders Miata and Ana are running against their schoolmates Rudy and Alex in the school elections. Miata wants to get rid of the graffiti and plant flowers to beautify the school. Rudy wants longer recess and more ice cream. The story unfolds through Miata's eyes as she plans her campaign and thinks about what she will do as president. Refreshingly, Soto avoids the overdone device of boys-against-girls and vice versa, and all four kids remain friends throughout the campaign, which ends in a way that satisfies everyone.
It's very clear why Soto is considered an exemplary author of multicultural children's books. The cultural markers in this story feel both abundant and authentic, from the music (Cielito Lindo and Donna) to the popularity of baseball and soccer. Hispanic characters are shown in a variety of occupations: the school principal, Miata's teacher, construction workers, a zookeeper, an elderly woman who used to be the mayor of her town in Mexico, and even the zookeeper's alter ego, a magician named Senor Gomez the Magnificent.
Erik Velasquez' illustrations are slightly dated, but that's something that can't be helped in realistic fiction. Soto's writing is often poetic, like when Miata eats an animal cracker shaped like a lion by putting "the lion to sleep on the bed of her pink tongue" (67).
I would read the first chapter of this book as a book talk and then give kids a chance to check it out. I think it's a story that would be very easy for kids of all ethnicities to appreciate.
Anne Connor said in School Library Journal, "This book offers an engaging look at student politics. But, more importantly, it is a realistic, warm portrayal of a Latino school in California: the kids, their families, and traditions. A humorous, light, good-natured story about everyday life in one community that will have great appeal for kids everywhere."
Connor, Anne. School Library Journal. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/Off-Running-Gary-Soto/dp/0440414326/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/104-1796065-2716726?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1183145578&sr=1-1.
Dona Flor
Mora, Pat. 2005. Dona Flor. Ill. by Raul Colon. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. ISBN 0-375-82337-9.
Dona Flor is an original Latina character in the vein of traditional tall-tale heroes like Pecos Bill or Paul Bunyan. She's so tall that she can dig a riverbed with her thumb, hug the wind, and grab snow off a mountaintop to wash her face. When a puma is frightening the people and animals in her village, it's up to Dona Flor to do something. But because the puma is tricky and because Dona Flor has such a big heart, the solution isn't what readers might first expect.
Colon's illustrations in muted blues, yellows, and browns are a perfect match for this story, which seems like it could have come from a book today's great-grandparents enjoyed when they were children. The people in the illustrations are wearing what look like clothes from the 1800s - trousers and hats for the men, long skirts and rebozos for the women. The village buildings are adobe, and the landscape of mountains and mesas looks like it could be in New Mexico.
Although I loved the illustrations and the idea of the story, the story itself leaves something to be desired. Mora seems to be divided between telling the story of the puma hunt and just listing things that Dona Flor can do because she's so big. The effect is to make Dona Flor sound like she's not very bright, as she keeps stopping in her search for the puma that everyone is so scared of to do other things that don't seem to be nearly as important. Then she goes back to the search when she hears the puma again, as if she's forgotten all about it until it roars.
Even so, the story is heartwarming, the ending is a nice suprise, and Dona Flor is just as captivating a character as those in traditional tall tales.
There is no glossary for the interlingual Spanish words, but they are mostly either clear from context or repeated in English. The only other cultural markers are the building and clothing style and Dona Flor's tortillas. Its not clear whether all the villagers are Latino/a or whether some of them are Caucasians who speak Spanish. (And the animal characters aren't either one, although they speak Spanish too!)
In Booklist, Gillian Engberg says, "Mora strengthens her economical, poetic text with vivid, fanciful touches: the villagers use Flor's colossal homemade tortillas as roofs, for example. Colon's signature scratchboard art extends the whimsy and gentle humor in lovely scenes of the serene heroine sweet-talking the animals or plucking a star from the sky. A winning read-aloud, particularly for children who can recognize the intermittent Spanish phrases."
I do think this book would be fun to read out loud. If kids didn't recognize the Spanish, they could practice guessing the words from context. It would also be neat to use this book in a Spanish lesson, gradually replacing the English words with more and more Spanish words and retelling the story.
Engberg, Gillian. Booklist. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/Dona-Flor-Belpre-Illustrator-Awards/dp/0375823379/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/104-1796065-2716726?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1183140911&sr=1-1.
Dona Flor is an original Latina character in the vein of traditional tall-tale heroes like Pecos Bill or Paul Bunyan. She's so tall that she can dig a riverbed with her thumb, hug the wind, and grab snow off a mountaintop to wash her face. When a puma is frightening the people and animals in her village, it's up to Dona Flor to do something. But because the puma is tricky and because Dona Flor has such a big heart, the solution isn't what readers might first expect.
Colon's illustrations in muted blues, yellows, and browns are a perfect match for this story, which seems like it could have come from a book today's great-grandparents enjoyed when they were children. The people in the illustrations are wearing what look like clothes from the 1800s - trousers and hats for the men, long skirts and rebozos for the women. The village buildings are adobe, and the landscape of mountains and mesas looks like it could be in New Mexico.
Although I loved the illustrations and the idea of the story, the story itself leaves something to be desired. Mora seems to be divided between telling the story of the puma hunt and just listing things that Dona Flor can do because she's so big. The effect is to make Dona Flor sound like she's not very bright, as she keeps stopping in her search for the puma that everyone is so scared of to do other things that don't seem to be nearly as important. Then she goes back to the search when she hears the puma again, as if she's forgotten all about it until it roars.
Even so, the story is heartwarming, the ending is a nice suprise, and Dona Flor is just as captivating a character as those in traditional tall tales.
There is no glossary for the interlingual Spanish words, but they are mostly either clear from context or repeated in English. The only other cultural markers are the building and clothing style and Dona Flor's tortillas. Its not clear whether all the villagers are Latino/a or whether some of them are Caucasians who speak Spanish. (And the animal characters aren't either one, although they speak Spanish too!)
In Booklist, Gillian Engberg says, "Mora strengthens her economical, poetic text with vivid, fanciful touches: the villagers use Flor's colossal homemade tortillas as roofs, for example. Colon's signature scratchboard art extends the whimsy and gentle humor in lovely scenes of the serene heroine sweet-talking the animals or plucking a star from the sky. A winning read-aloud, particularly for children who can recognize the intermittent Spanish phrases."
I do think this book would be fun to read out loud. If kids didn't recognize the Spanish, they could practice guessing the words from context. It would also be neat to use this book in a Spanish lesson, gradually replacing the English words with more and more Spanish words and retelling the story.
Engberg, Gillian. Booklist. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/Dona-Flor-Belpre-Illustrator-Awards/dp/0375823379/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/104-1796065-2716726?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1183140911&sr=1-1.
Mice and Beans
Ryan, Pam Munoz. 2001. Mice and Beans. Ill. by Joe Cepeda. New York: Scholastic. ISBN 0-439-18303-0.
Rosa Maria is a sprightly Hispanic grandmother with red glasses and a beehive hairdo. She's busy getting her little house ready for her granddaughter's birthday party. The preparations take all week, and at every step something goes missing - a cloth napkin, Rosa Maria's favorite spoon, feathers from the pinata, a birthday candle, and lots of moustraps. Rosa Maria has set the traps because, as her mother always said, "Where there's room in the heart, there's room in the house, except for a mouse."
Where could everything be disappearing to? And who could have put the candy in the pinata when Rosa Maria forgot? The illustrations tell the story by showing us the mouse family that Rosa Maria hasn't noticed - including a grandmother mouse in a pink apron and red glasses. Finally, when the party is over, Rosa Maria discovers the mouse hole. And she remembers that her mother's dicho wasn't "except for a mouse" after all.
Both the story and the illustrations are upbeat and full of zest. Rosa Maria looks on the bright side no matter what happens. (When one of the seven birthday candles goes missing, she makes a number seven out of the six candles that are left.)
Cepeda's illustrations are colorful and often funny (the turkey pinata is always watching the action, and so is the person in a picture on the wall). And, of course, the illustrations add the subplot of the mouse family making their own party preparations. The illustration on the last page of the story seems like a punch line as we see inside the mouse hole and discover what's happened to Rosa Maria's missing items.
It's not clear exactly where the story takes place; Rosa Maria lives in a generic suburban house with a yard, although she shops at a bakery with adobe walls and a tile roof. The interlingual Spanish sounds natural, even when it is sometimes repeated in English; since Rosa Maria is talking to herself throughout the story, it sounds like she's just repeating herself for emphasis.
One of the best things about this book as multicultural literature is that it has a plot! Although Rosa Maria's granddaughter has a birthday party with a pinata, Ryan doesn't bring out the pinata symbol to illustrate the differences between Catalina's birthday and some ideal "regular American" birthday party. Instead, all the cultural markers in the story arise naturally as part of the plot and are treated as regular parts of life.
I would recommend this book to anyone looking to expand their collection of multicultural books. Although it could easily be displayed with other books by Hispanic authors, I would also display it with other books that have subplots going on in the pictures, like Detective Donut and the Wild Goose Chase.
Booklist says, "The story is charming, but what makes it special is the quiet authenticity of the Hispanic characterizations."
Booklist. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/product-description/0439701368/sr=1-1/qid=1183139033/ref=dp_proddesc_0/104-1796065-2716726?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books&qid=1183139033&sr=1-1.
Rosa Maria is a sprightly Hispanic grandmother with red glasses and a beehive hairdo. She's busy getting her little house ready for her granddaughter's birthday party. The preparations take all week, and at every step something goes missing - a cloth napkin, Rosa Maria's favorite spoon, feathers from the pinata, a birthday candle, and lots of moustraps. Rosa Maria has set the traps because, as her mother always said, "Where there's room in the heart, there's room in the house, except for a mouse."
Where could everything be disappearing to? And who could have put the candy in the pinata when Rosa Maria forgot? The illustrations tell the story by showing us the mouse family that Rosa Maria hasn't noticed - including a grandmother mouse in a pink apron and red glasses. Finally, when the party is over, Rosa Maria discovers the mouse hole. And she remembers that her mother's dicho wasn't "except for a mouse" after all.
Both the story and the illustrations are upbeat and full of zest. Rosa Maria looks on the bright side no matter what happens. (When one of the seven birthday candles goes missing, she makes a number seven out of the six candles that are left.)
Cepeda's illustrations are colorful and often funny (the turkey pinata is always watching the action, and so is the person in a picture on the wall). And, of course, the illustrations add the subplot of the mouse family making their own party preparations. The illustration on the last page of the story seems like a punch line as we see inside the mouse hole and discover what's happened to Rosa Maria's missing items.
It's not clear exactly where the story takes place; Rosa Maria lives in a generic suburban house with a yard, although she shops at a bakery with adobe walls and a tile roof. The interlingual Spanish sounds natural, even when it is sometimes repeated in English; since Rosa Maria is talking to herself throughout the story, it sounds like she's just repeating herself for emphasis.
One of the best things about this book as multicultural literature is that it has a plot! Although Rosa Maria's granddaughter has a birthday party with a pinata, Ryan doesn't bring out the pinata symbol to illustrate the differences between Catalina's birthday and some ideal "regular American" birthday party. Instead, all the cultural markers in the story arise naturally as part of the plot and are treated as regular parts of life.
I would recommend this book to anyone looking to expand their collection of multicultural books. Although it could easily be displayed with other books by Hispanic authors, I would also display it with other books that have subplots going on in the pictures, like Detective Donut and the Wild Goose Chase.
Booklist says, "The story is charming, but what makes it special is the quiet authenticity of the Hispanic characterizations."
Booklist. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/product-description/0439701368/sr=1-1/qid=1183139033/ref=dp_proddesc_0/104-1796065-2716726?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books&qid=1183139033&sr=1-1.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Back Home
Pinkney, Gloria Jean. 1992. Back Home. Illustrated by Jerry Pinkney. New York: Dial. ISBN 0-8037-1169-7.
This warm, understated picture book tells the story of Ernestine, who takes a train to visit her aunt, uncle, and cousin in the country for the first time. She wants to prove herself to her cousin Jack, who teases her for not knowing about life on a farm. Before it’s time for Ernestine to leave, the two of them come to an understanding and it’s clear that Ernestine will be glad to return to the farm next summer.
The Pinkneys emphasize family ties, an important theme in African-American culture and literature. Although Ernestine has never visited these relatives before, she knows things about them (like the name of her uncle’s truck, Ole Lizzy) because she has heard stories about them, presumably from her mother. Ernestine reacts with pride and pleasure when she’s told that she looks like her grandmother. On the last day of her visit, the family goes to church and then takes Ernestine to put flowers on her grandmother’s grave.
Speech patterns reflect the rural south, such as “pulled the door to” for shutting the door and “give some sugar” for giving a kiss. The style of speech is consistent throughout the story, both in the sections of dialogue and in the narrator’s words, making it seem natural and authentic.
The book is full of Jerry Pinkney’s watercolor and colored-pencil illustrations, often taking up most of a two-page spread. Details in the pictures add depth to the story, such as the picture of Ernestine arriving at her aunt and uncle’s house barefoot, holding her fancy shoes; the luggage tag buttoned to her dress while she’s on the train, presumably because she’s a child traveling alone; the family portraits on the bedroom wall; and the picture of a beautiful ripe peach when Ernestine is helping her aunt can peaches.
The clothing in particular is very detailed and reflects the late 1930s or early 1940s down to the prints on the fabric of Aunt Beula’s dresses. The cover, showing an African-American Pullman porter helping Ernestine down from the train, is a nice touch that gently highlights the importance of this particular job at a time when it was one of the highest-paying jobs open to African-American men.
Shirley Wilton said in School Library Journal, “This is more a reminiscence than a plotted story, warm with Southern summer and family affection, a vignette of times gone by and roots rediscovered. Jerry Pinkney's full-page watercolors complement this account of a young girl's journey several decades ago. Their sketchy, impressionistic style softens the rural poverty and strengthens the genuine family feelings that greet Ernestine. Like Donald Crews's Bigmama's (Greenwillow, 1991), Back Home draws on personal history and celebrates the lives of an African-American family.”
I would display this book with Snapshots From the Wedding by Gary Soto, another warm family book from a different culture which also happens to have a lot going on in the illustrations!
Wilton, Shirley. School Library Journal. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/Back-Picture-Books-Gloria-Pinkney/dp/0140565477/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1182712960&sr=1-1
This warm, understated picture book tells the story of Ernestine, who takes a train to visit her aunt, uncle, and cousin in the country for the first time. She wants to prove herself to her cousin Jack, who teases her for not knowing about life on a farm. Before it’s time for Ernestine to leave, the two of them come to an understanding and it’s clear that Ernestine will be glad to return to the farm next summer.
The Pinkneys emphasize family ties, an important theme in African-American culture and literature. Although Ernestine has never visited these relatives before, she knows things about them (like the name of her uncle’s truck, Ole Lizzy) because she has heard stories about them, presumably from her mother. Ernestine reacts with pride and pleasure when she’s told that she looks like her grandmother. On the last day of her visit, the family goes to church and then takes Ernestine to put flowers on her grandmother’s grave.
Speech patterns reflect the rural south, such as “pulled the door to” for shutting the door and “give some sugar” for giving a kiss. The style of speech is consistent throughout the story, both in the sections of dialogue and in the narrator’s words, making it seem natural and authentic.
The book is full of Jerry Pinkney’s watercolor and colored-pencil illustrations, often taking up most of a two-page spread. Details in the pictures add depth to the story, such as the picture of Ernestine arriving at her aunt and uncle’s house barefoot, holding her fancy shoes; the luggage tag buttoned to her dress while she’s on the train, presumably because she’s a child traveling alone; the family portraits on the bedroom wall; and the picture of a beautiful ripe peach when Ernestine is helping her aunt can peaches.
The clothing in particular is very detailed and reflects the late 1930s or early 1940s down to the prints on the fabric of Aunt Beula’s dresses. The cover, showing an African-American Pullman porter helping Ernestine down from the train, is a nice touch that gently highlights the importance of this particular job at a time when it was one of the highest-paying jobs open to African-American men.
Shirley Wilton said in School Library Journal, “This is more a reminiscence than a plotted story, warm with Southern summer and family affection, a vignette of times gone by and roots rediscovered. Jerry Pinkney's full-page watercolors complement this account of a young girl's journey several decades ago. Their sketchy, impressionistic style softens the rural poverty and strengthens the genuine family feelings that greet Ernestine. Like Donald Crews's Bigmama's (Greenwillow, 1991), Back Home draws on personal history and celebrates the lives of an African-American family.”
I would display this book with Snapshots From the Wedding by Gary Soto, another warm family book from a different culture which also happens to have a lot going on in the illustrations!
Wilton, Shirley. School Library Journal. Qtd. in Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/Back-Picture-Books-Gloria-Pinkney/dp/0140565477/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1182712960&sr=1-1
The First Part Last
Johnson, Angela. 2003. The First Part Last. New York: Simon Pulse. ISBN 0-689-84923-0.
The First Part Last is a brilliant book that completely deserves its Printz Award and Coretta Scott King Award. The main event that drives the plot is the discovery by the narrator, Bobby, that his girlfriend is pregnant. This is the part of the review where I would normally discuss how well the author handles the difficult subject, but what makes this book so excellent is that Johnson never makes you feel like she’s “handling” a “subject” at all – she’s telling a story about people, people who feel real and who react in ways that reflect their unique characters.
Bobby, at sixteen, is raising his infant daughter Feather. There are plenty of people who want to help – from his father and older brother to his former baby-sitter who now sits for his daughter. But as his mother points out, Bobby is the one who’s ultimately responsible for Feather, and that means that Bobby has to grow up quickly. There’s the requisite talk about how tired Bobby is and how Feather manages to pee the minute after he’s changed her diaper. But Johnson also captures the intense bond between Bobby and his daughter. Bobby says, “I’ve never been closer to or loved anybody more than I love Feather” (96), and we know it’s true.
The book is divided into short sections titled “Then” and “Now.” Roughly, “Then” is before Feather’s birth and “Now” is afterward, although it’s a little confusing at first, especially if (like me) you tend to skip chapter titles. And when then and now converge at Feather’s birth near the end of the novel, the rest of the story takes on even deeper meaning.
Johnson's cultural markers seem to me to be authentic and accurate, from the descriptions of Bobby's neighborhood (ethnic restaurants of all kinds, people calling to each other in the street late at night when the clubs close) to the main characters (his girlfriend's cowrie-shell bracelet). Among the characters there is a diversity of occupations and income levels.
Bobby's narrative reads as if he's talking, using "'cause" for "because" and "hangin'" for "hanging." It sounds natural and unforced.
The only thing I didn’t like about this book was the back jacket blurb on my copy. It described Bobby as “a classic urban teenager.” It made me think of a pastor I used to work for who pointed out to me whenever he thought that white people were using “urban” as code for “black.” “For instance,” I remember he said once to a white pastor whose church was all white, “your church is an urban church.”
“Oh, no,” the other pastor said, looking flustered. “My church isn’t urban.”
“It’s in the middle of town,” my pastor said. “’Urban’ means pertaining to a city. It doesn’t mean ‘black.’”
I can’t imagine the person who wrote the back jacket copy on my book describing Mia Thermopolis of the Princess Diaries books as an “urban teenager,” even though she lives in the middle of New York City. Since I’m sure Angela Johnson wasn’t responsible for the jacket copy, this one false note doesn’t reflect on the excellent story of The First Part Last.
Because I really liked the front cover picture – a young man in dreadlocks holding a baby – I think I would use this book to start a discussion about book jackets and how well or badly they work as advertisements for the book inside. I would definitely include the jackets for Megan Whalen Turner’s excellent Thief trilogy. (A recent Horn Book article pointed out that while the text indicates that the characters have dark skin and Turner says she pictures them looking like Sherpas, the people in the cover art are definitely Caucasian.)
In School Library Journal, Miranda Doyle said this novel was “brief, poetic, and absolutely riveting,” but thought that the plot twist revealed toward the end was “melodramatic.”
Doyle, Miranda. School Library Journal. Qtd. In Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/First-Part-Last-Angela-Johnson/dp/0689849230/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1182707377&sr=1-1.
The First Part Last is a brilliant book that completely deserves its Printz Award and Coretta Scott King Award. The main event that drives the plot is the discovery by the narrator, Bobby, that his girlfriend is pregnant. This is the part of the review where I would normally discuss how well the author handles the difficult subject, but what makes this book so excellent is that Johnson never makes you feel like she’s “handling” a “subject” at all – she’s telling a story about people, people who feel real and who react in ways that reflect their unique characters.
Bobby, at sixteen, is raising his infant daughter Feather. There are plenty of people who want to help – from his father and older brother to his former baby-sitter who now sits for his daughter. But as his mother points out, Bobby is the one who’s ultimately responsible for Feather, and that means that Bobby has to grow up quickly. There’s the requisite talk about how tired Bobby is and how Feather manages to pee the minute after he’s changed her diaper. But Johnson also captures the intense bond between Bobby and his daughter. Bobby says, “I’ve never been closer to or loved anybody more than I love Feather” (96), and we know it’s true.
The book is divided into short sections titled “Then” and “Now.” Roughly, “Then” is before Feather’s birth and “Now” is afterward, although it’s a little confusing at first, especially if (like me) you tend to skip chapter titles. And when then and now converge at Feather’s birth near the end of the novel, the rest of the story takes on even deeper meaning.
Johnson's cultural markers seem to me to be authentic and accurate, from the descriptions of Bobby's neighborhood (ethnic restaurants of all kinds, people calling to each other in the street late at night when the clubs close) to the main characters (his girlfriend's cowrie-shell bracelet). Among the characters there is a diversity of occupations and income levels.
Bobby's narrative reads as if he's talking, using "'cause" for "because" and "hangin'" for "hanging." It sounds natural and unforced.
The only thing I didn’t like about this book was the back jacket blurb on my copy. It described Bobby as “a classic urban teenager.” It made me think of a pastor I used to work for who pointed out to me whenever he thought that white people were using “urban” as code for “black.” “For instance,” I remember he said once to a white pastor whose church was all white, “your church is an urban church.”
“Oh, no,” the other pastor said, looking flustered. “My church isn’t urban.”
“It’s in the middle of town,” my pastor said. “’Urban’ means pertaining to a city. It doesn’t mean ‘black.’”
I can’t imagine the person who wrote the back jacket copy on my book describing Mia Thermopolis of the Princess Diaries books as an “urban teenager,” even though she lives in the middle of New York City. Since I’m sure Angela Johnson wasn’t responsible for the jacket copy, this one false note doesn’t reflect on the excellent story of The First Part Last.
Because I really liked the front cover picture – a young man in dreadlocks holding a baby – I think I would use this book to start a discussion about book jackets and how well or badly they work as advertisements for the book inside. I would definitely include the jackets for Megan Whalen Turner’s excellent Thief trilogy. (A recent Horn Book article pointed out that while the text indicates that the characters have dark skin and Turner says she pictures them looking like Sherpas, the people in the cover art are definitely Caucasian.)
In School Library Journal, Miranda Doyle said this novel was “brief, poetic, and absolutely riveting,” but thought that the plot twist revealed toward the end was “melodramatic.”
Doyle, Miranda. School Library Journal. Qtd. In Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/First-Part-Last-Angela-Johnson/dp/0689849230/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5676480-3776938?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1182707377&sr=1-1.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)