Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

Ruth Krauss and Crockett Johnson on their front porch, 1959. Image courtesy of Smithsonian Institution. Reproduced courtesy of the New Haven Register.

 
Last week at Kirkus, an abbreviated version of a Q&A I conducted with author, professor, and blogger Philip Nel was posted over at the Kirkus Book Blog Network. We discussed his latest book, a double biography, titled Crockett Johnson and Ruth Krauss: How an Unlikely Couple Found Love, Dodged the FBI, and Transformed Children’s Literature.

This week here at 7-Imp, I’ve got the interview in its entirety, along with some images from the book. Many thanks to Phil for taking time from his busy schedule to chat with me about this fascinating book.

Let’s get right to it …

Jules: Part of your book’s sub-title is “How an Unlikely Couple…Transformed Children’s Literature.” Given their influential work across multiple disciplines (children’s lit, comics, graphic design, fine arts), what do you think their most enduring contributions are to the field of children’s literature?

Philip: Crockett Johnson’s Harold and the Purple Crayon is the most succinct and profound distillation of imaginative possibility ever created. Understandably, it’s inspired many other children’s writers.

 

Crockett Johnson. Harold “kept his wits and his purple crayon.” From Harold and the Purple Crayon (Harper, 1955). Text copyright © 1955 by Crockett Johnson. Copyright © renewed 1983 by Ruth Krauss. Used by permission of HarperCollins Publishers. Reprinted with the permission of the Estate of Ruth Krauss,
Stewart I. Edelstein, Executor. All Rights Reserved.

 
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Get out the veggies, eggs, and coffee mugs. Illustrator Christian Robinson is visiting for a late-night breakfast. (Why not? Breakfast for dinner! I say.) Given that he’s a vegetarian—though he admits he kinda misses his bacon—he enjoys “a really good veggie omelette in the morning, usually with avocado, tomato, spinach, and cheddar. Pancakes or toast on the side. A tall glass of fresh-squeezed OJ is a must.” This is all more than good with me, though of course we’re going to have it at night, not to mention I’m bringing some strong coffee to the table, too. (Yes, it’s late, but decaf is just wrong all wrong.)

Christian, who is also an animator, will soon see the release (October of this year) of Renée Watson’s Harlem’s Little Blackbird: The Story of Florence Mills, published by Random House. This is the picture book biography of the African-American cabaret singer and dancer, the daughter of former slaves who faced bigotry herself during her rise to fame at the time of the Harlem Renaissance, yet sang of civil rights and ultimately used her fame and talent to give back to the community. (“After her performances,” Watson writes, “Florence disguised herself so no one would recognize her. She went to hospitals to deliver flowers to patients. And she walked along the Thames River giving money and food to beggars.”)

Robinson’s mixed media illustrations convey emotion with a child-like clarity and seeming simplicity; they are a striking accompaniment to Watson’s words. Today, Christian shares art from this book, as well as lots of other art, and I thank him for visiting.

So, let’s get right to it. Read the rest of this entry �

Author/illustrator Susan Gal, who began her career in illustration by doing poster and calendar art, followed by work as an animator, is relatively new to creating picture books, and I’m glad she decided to do so. Since her picture book debut in 2009, I’ve followed her titles with interest. As I once wrote here at 7-Imp (and as the Kirkus review noted for her debut title), there is a warmth, not to mention an Ezra Jack Keats vibe, to her artwork. A Keats vibe, yes, but Susan still has a style all her own — as you’ll see in the artwork featured here in the interview today.

Susan’s newest picture book, Day by Day, released by Knopf in July, is a joyous celebration of family and community, which has been met with good reviews all-around. As you can see in the sketch and final spread below, her work can be textured and colorful, though in more than one of her picture books thus far, we see how expert she is at conveying night-time spreads with clarity, warmth, and beauty.

“Day by day, the seasons turn.”
(Click images to enlarge)

Let’s just get right to the interview, since she shares so much artwork today, not to mention we’re having a “fresh-pressed mug of Noble’s Ethiopian ‘Worka’ blend coffee with steamed milk and steel-cut oatmeal with seasonal fresh fruit, topped with toasted almonds.” Mmm. I’m ready to eat and see lots of art.

I thank Susan for visiting. Read the rest of this entry �

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If you’re a fan, as I am, of the illustrations of Komako Sakai, the above spread might make you happy. It’s a sneak-peek at her newest illustrated title, which Enchanted Lion Books will release this November, a re-telling of Margery Williams’ Velveteen Rabbit.

Komako is here this morning—with huge thanks to translator Yuki Kaneko (who also translated Yukiko Kato’s In the Meadow, which Sakai illustrated, and The Velveteen Rabbit)—to share with me a cyber-bowl of rice, miso soup, and pickled vegetables. To the left is her self-portrait.

Here is precisely what I love—with thanks to the New York Times for the words—about Komako’s artwork. For her 2009 title, The Snow Day (Arthur A. Levine Books), David Barringer over at the NYT wrote: “The art in The Snow Day is unpretty and mesmerizing. This world is dark, heavy, unsentimental and thick with…the bittersweet solitude of snow.”

“Unpretty and mesmerizing” might also cover some of Komako’s other titles (though heaven only knows she’s capable of breathtaking beauty as well)—the vibe in her books sometimes communicates such—but rest assured this is a compliment. Flying in the face of the notion that all children’s books should be light or cute (I don’t know about you, but I’ve met the parents who think all children’s lit should be such), Komako lays out her stories with honesty and an emotional resonance, never patronizing to child readers and triumphantly tapping into all shades of their inner lives.

Her artwork is also a force of nature — at times grainy, at times soft and muted, and at times with vivid, vigorous brushstrokes. (For the latter, see the artwork at the bottom of the post for In the Meadow).

Komako lives and works in Japan, and only a handful of her titles have been imported here to the States. It’s with eagerness that I look forward to her version of The Velveteen Rabbit. And I thank her (and, once again, the translator) for doing this short Q&A with me. I also thank the Japanese publisher Fukuinkan, who made this Q&A possible, as well as Enchanted Lion Books for facilitating it all.

Let’s get right to it. Read the rest of this entry �

“This particular morning, the bear saw something on the flat rock in the clearing outside his cave. ‘What is that?’ the bear said. It was orange and long and pointy
and had green bushy leaves at one end.”
(Click to enlarge and see full spread)

This morning at Kirkus, I have a brief conversation with Brian McMullen, who created the McMullens children’s book imprint over at McSweeney’s, now in its second year. Brian serves as Art Director and imprint editor and is, as you may have guessed, the namesake for the imprint. That link is here.

Tomorrow at Kirkus, I’ll have some thoughts on Fall 2012 picture book titles I’m extra-eager to see. Actually, they’re titles I’ve already seen—books for which I got a sneak peek at some F&Gs—and whose releases I anticipate with downright glee. (I had fun writing this. I got crazy-inspired and wrote it a while back, but Kirkus wanted to post it now-ish, closer to Fall release dates.) That link will be here on Friday morning.

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Last week, I wrote about the utterly charming Bear in Love (to be released by Candlewick in mid-August), written by Daniel Pinkwater and illustrated by Will Hillenbrand. That is here, if you missed it last week and are so inclined to read more about it.

Here’s one more spread from the book. Enjoy. Read the rest of this entry �

Early sketch from Victoria Jamieson’s Olympig!

Tomorrow at Kirkus, I write about the new picture book from Daniel Pinkwater and Will Hillenbrand, Bear in Love, which surprised me. That link will be here in the morning.

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Last week, I wrote about Victoria Jamieson’s Olympig! and why it surprised me, too. That link is here.

Today, as always, I follow up with more art, including early sketches from Victoria. Victoria is also here to talk a bit about the book. Enjoy. Read the rest of this entry �

This morning I’m having breakfast with author/illustrator Marisabina Russo. To be precise, we’re having a glass of orange juice, some whole wheat English muffins with honey, and some café lattes. “My husband makes French toast on the weekends,” Marisabina told me. “In the summer, I buy granola at the local farmers market and fresh blueberries. That’s really my favorite.” (Note to self: Though it all sounds good, next time interview her on a weekend for some of those pancakes. I’ll bring the syrup.)

Marisabina grew up in Queens and knew from a young age that she loved art and wanted to make a career of it. At the very bottom of this post, she shares the comprehensive list of books she’s both written and illustrated in her career, including two YA novels.

I Will Come Back for You: A Family in Hiding During World War II, one of her latest picture books (released by Schwartz & Wade), has been named a Bank Street Best Book for 2012, as well as a Sydney Taylor Award Notable Book. The book, based on her mother’s own experiences, tells the story of a Jewish girl living in Rome with her family until Italy aligns itself with Nazi Germany, making life dangerous for Jews. Read the rest of this entry �

“‘Will you be okay in the big kids’ school? You’re still so little.’
‘Mom, don’t worry. I’ll be fine, I am already five!'”
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Friday at Kirkus, I’ll have a column about David Mackintosh’s The Frank Show, as well as Karina Wolf’s The Insomniacs, illustrated by The Brothers Hilts. That link will be here tomorrow morning.
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Okay, as for this post’s title, “cover reveal” sounds mighty dramatic, but … well, it just sounded better than “cover.”

Remember when Yuyi Morales visited last week (that link is here) and mentioned her next picture book project? Here’s part of what she wrote:

I just finished my book, Niño Wrestles the World, and I am tremendously happy with it. This is a book with Roaring Brook Press and Neal Porter, and I couldn’t be more delighted working again with this group of artists, thinkers, [and] creative people, who are embedding into my work the richest of their talents. Niño is a lucha libre story, filled with some of my favorite (scary) Mexican characters, and it is also a tribute to games and to my two sisters, Magaly and Elizabeth, who were the truest terrors of my childhood.

Read the rest of this entry �

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Last week at Kirkus, I chatted briefly with Bryan Collier about his latest picture book, an adaptation of Langston Hughes’s iconic poem, “I, Too, Sing America.” This is called I, Too, Am America and was published by Simon & Schuster in May.

Here is that link.

I’ve got a couple of spreads in this post today. Enjoy. Read the rest of this entry �

“She made sweaters for all the dogs, and all the cats, and for other animals, too.
Soon, people thought, soon Annabelle will run out of yarn.”

Last Thursday at Kirkus, I chatted with the very funny writer and strongman-for-hire Mac Barnett about the fact that his early Spring picture book—Extra Yarn (Balzer + Bray), illustrated by Jon Klassen—up and got the 2012 Boston Globe-Horn Book Award in the Picture Book category. Here is that conversation, if you missed it and are so inclined to read it. (And I’ve been wanting to post about this book all year, having asked Mac and Jon about it back in January. Better late than never, huh?)

Know what, too? I asked Mac, as you can see over there at the Q & A, about the fact that his writing is always described as “quirky,” and he gave such a wonderful response, one I’ll always remember. If you love picture books as much as I do, you also may very well cheer this:

Last month on the radio, I heard a winemaker talking about how his business had changed, starting in the 1980s. Before that, apparently, vintners took pride in the idiosyncrasies of their individual processes and the quirks of their regions. You could take a sip and know that the grapes were grown in this particular terroir, say, and there was such wide and pronounced variety that you could tell the differences between two wines grown 30 miles from each other.

But then that changed. Winemakers started aiming for received notions of the perfect Bordeaux or ideal Cabernet, and things started tasting the same. And this man on the radio was sad, because something had been lost.

Now, during the Reagan years, I was too young to even taste the holy swill in the Communion cup, but I see a similar trend in picture books—and on roughly the same timeline. The same plots get trotted out. Great ideas are shaved and sanded down until they look a lot like a lot of other things on the bookshelf. I like strange stories, shaggy stories, stories with knobby bits and gristle and surprises. And so I’m glad that people think my stories are quirky. All my favorite books have quirks. Although I think it is almost always more interesting to examine why something is quirky than to simply say that it is.

Strange, shaggy stories. YES, indeed.

Here are some more illustrations from Extra Yarn (sans text). [Fun Fact, Which Jon Mentioned in a Previous Email to Me and Which I Hope He Doesn’t Mind Me Sharing Here: The yarn in the book was actually an old sweater Jon scanned in and then colored so that the stitching would be right.]

Enjoy. (Part Two tomorrow…) Read the rest of this entry �