Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

I was asked a while ago to speak to parents at a children’s festival of reading in Knoxville, Tennessee. I had free reign to talk about picture books in any way I wanted. I was this close to just taking Bonny Becker’s A Visitor for Bear (Candlewick), illustrated by today’s visitor, Canadian illustrator Kady MacDonald Denton, and using it as a model for pretty much How Perfect a Picture Book Can Be.

Or, more precisely (and without my usual hyperbole), letting it serve as an example for the long list of ways in which picture books can delight and why we read them with children: To summarize here—impossibly and before breakfast—it is funny (particularly, Bear’s melodramatic stances and impressive vocabulary), entertaining, and a terrific read-aloud; it has very real, very memorable characters that not only stay with you a long time, but that you also want to visit and re-visit; it is moving without being syrupy-sweet about it, and readers establish a real emotional connection with Bear and Mouse (pictured left), the book’s only two characters; there is a so-brilliant-it-could-be-a-picture-book-case-study extension of Becker’s well-crafted story by Kady’s endearing illustrations, yet both author and illustrator leave a gap between pictures and text, thereby giving mental and visual breathing space to the child reader; and, well, I could go on…. It’s one of my favorite picture books, and in the year of its release, 2008, this book most assuredly fell into the Oh-How-We-Wish-She-Were-an-American category. With all respect to Canada, there was much gnashing of teeth as we American picture book aficionados (*cough*, nerds) realized that Kady MacDonald Denton was not eligible for the Caldecott. To be clear, however, it was a New York Times bestseller, received the 2009 Golden Kite Award for Picture Book Text and the 2009 E.B. White Read Aloud Award for Picture Books, was a Wanda Gág Book Award Honor Book, and much more.

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“Many of my favorite photographers…created images that capture the beauty of unexpected and unguarded moments,” author and illustrator Nina Crews wrote here last week at her blog. Nina herself manages to capture the same candidness in her own picture books for children, which are rendered via photography and collage.

As I wrote last week at Kirkus, no one quite captures the rhythm and singular heartbeat of children’s play on their streets and playgrounds as Nina does with her camera. Since her debut title in 1995, she’s brought readers a host of books depicting children of various ethnicities playing together in urban neighborhoods. Her exuberant photos take up every inch of these spreads—there’s too much energy here (often a downright ebullience) for any wasted space.

“Crews’ fans will be delighted,” a Kirkus reviewer wrote about her newest title, a contemporary version of Jack and the Beanstalk (“with spiky parts rounded off,” the review adds), which will be released next month by Christy Ottaviano Books/Henry Holt. And Publishers Weekly calls her May release, The Neighborhood Sing-Along (Greenwillow), “jubilant.” Indeed, it is. Have you seen it? Oh, please find yourself a copy by hook or by crook.

I’m happy to welcome Nina to the breakfast table today—she chooses “a cup of strong coffee with milk and toast with lots of butter.” Sometimes, she goes for yogurt or cereal, she says, but I’m all for the buttery toast and strong coffee today. I’ll cyber-set our cyber-table while getting the basics from her first, and I thank her for stopping by this morning. Read the rest of this entry �

This illustration happens to be my very favorite picture book illustration from all of 2008. (What? Such categories actually do exist in my head.) And I’m taking the liberty of pulling it from the 7-Imp archives to re-post here. My visitors this morning mention this picture book below, and so I take every chance I can get to share Robert Andrew Parker’s art.

Okay, wait. While I’m at it, let me re-post this, too, from a book also mentioned below:

You must click on that image to super-size it. No, really. You MUST. Because it’s a gorgeous spread is what it is. That comes from illustrator André Carrilho in Jonah Winter’s You Never Heard of Sandy Koufax?!, also published by Schwartz & Wade Books in 2009.

Back to my visitors: I’m doing something different and altogether new for me here at 7-Imp this morning, the sort of thing that is more up Steven Withrow’s alley, but there’s a first time for everything, yes? I’m having a brief chat today with Anne Schwartz and Lee Wade, who five years ago created the Schwartz & Wade imprint at Random House. Evidently, they’re celebrating this anniversary with a blog tour of sorts. I was asked if I wanted to be involved, and given the fact that I’ve followed their picture books with interest over the past five years, I thought it’d be neat to take the opportunity to ask them their thoughts on picture books today and what’s next for the imprint. If I didn’t have my own writing deadline right now, I would have asked them more than just four whoppin’ questions, but I’m glad we were able to do this at all.

The best part—bonus!—is that they share some picture book art below, and you all know what an illustration junkie I am. I know many of you 7-Imp readers out there are, too, so I’m happy to share.

As a brief bit of background here, Anne and Lee worked together at Simon & Schuster for just under ten years before working at Random House. During their careers, they have had a particular focus on picture books, so I’m happy to have them visiting today. Let’s get right to it… Read the rest of this entry �

“For eighteen years, Craig Frazier worked as a graphic designer, producing trademarks, brochures, annual reports, packaging, posters, and advertising. He had bustling offices in the San Francisco Design Center, a staff of six, a client list which included companies like Apple, Herman Miller, Nestle, Steelcase, LucasArts, Oracle, and Kia Motors. His award-winning work was regularly featured in the best design magazines…and is held in the permanent collection of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

And then, five years ago, Frazier threw it all away.”

That’s the beginning of this compelling article by Kirk Citron for a 2002 issue of Graphis. Citron goes on to write:

The remarkable thing about Craig Frazier is that at the peak of his professional career, he chose to start anew. Without any guarantees, without any steady source of income – and with a wife and two children at home depending on him – he decided to follow his heart.

Frazier’s transition from graphic design to illustration has served quite well those of us who enjoy his children’s books. Noting that he felt graphic design was “anonymous,” he made the move to illustration, telling Citron he “couldn’t find the Craig” in the design work he was doing. Now, he is … well, showing us the Craig in his work, clearly bringing his designer’s eye and palette and graphic sensibilities to the task with his high-intensity, bold illustrations in his (mostly) wordless titles. In his latest title (lots of art is pictured below), he uses—as I noted over at my Kirkus column in April—rich, unflinching hues and elemental shapes to depict the travels of a bird and a bee, showing the youngest of readers that perspective alone can alter the very definition of a landscape.

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That’s one of my favorite picture book spreads from 2011. Yes, indeedy, it is.

This morning over at Kirkus I will be discussing the wonderful beginning reader series from TOON Books (a Candlewick imprint), which has been going strong since 2008. There are two new 2011 TOON titles, and this morning I briefly discuss the latest one. The link is here.

Last week, I talked about some new picture book biographies. The link is here, if you missed it. Today is when I show you some artwork from each of those titles here at 7-Imp, and I’m going to throw in, at the bottom, some spreads from a book I wanted to mention last week, yet didn’t have the room to mention: Marissa Moss’s Nurse, Soldier, Spy: The Story of Sarah Edmonds, a Civil War Hero (Abrams, March 2011), illustrated by John Hendrix. More on that in a moment.

But, first, here are some illustrations to pore over. Remember, to read about them, hit last week’s Kirkus column. Below is the artwork only. Oh! But also: Bonnie Christensen, who visited me for breakfast here in 2009, not only shares some artwork below from her picture book biography of Andy Warhol, but she talks a bit about it, as well as discusses her process for creating the art. Incidentally, Bonnie also had the opportunity years ago, while working in New York theatre, to perform with Warhol “superstars” Taylor Mead, Viva, and Ultra Violet in The Rites of Spring, written and directed by Taylor Mead, at the Actors Studio. Bonnie addresses that below, too. Bonus!

Enjoy.

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“Readers will likely marvel at why such a compelling figure has not received more attention,” writes Publishers Weekly about the subject of one of the latest illustrated titles from James E. Ransome, Before There Was Mozart: The Story of Joseph Boulogne, Chevalier de Saint-George (Schwartz & Wade, January 2011), written by Lisa Cline-Ransome (who happens to be James’s wife). This picture book biography tells the story of violinist Joseph Boulogne, the son of a white plantation owner and a black slave in the West Indies, born in 1745. Joseph eventually studied music in Paris, became a conductor and composer of his own operas (not to mention quartets, concertos, and ariettas), impressed Mozart himself, and played for King Louis the Sixteenth and Queen Marie Antoinette. (“Never before had a man of color entered the palace to perform for royalty!”)

James, who is visiting me for breakfast this morning to discuss his books and art, rendered this story of an often-overlooked African American figure in rich and colorful mixed media illustrations, several of which are featured below.

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That’s a spread from one of my favorite 2011 picture books, Blackout (Disney-Hyperion, May 2011), and it was written and illustrated by John Rocco, pictured here, who joins me for breakfast this morning. Have you seen this book, which has been met with such praise as “sublime” and “beautifully designed”? If not, I highly recommend you find the nearest copy on your library or bookstore shelf. It’s delightful. And if I were Publishers Weekly, I might say Rocco gets everything right in this book. So, I’m not PW, but they did say that about this book, and I nodded when I read that. Because it’s true.

Blackout tells the story of one busy family’s (and one community’s) magical, intimate evening together after the lights go out. Rocco, in the below video, calls the book his “ode to Brooklyn.” In fact, as Betsy Bird pointed out in this recent post (where you can see the excellent trailer for this book), New York City experienced its own 2003 blackout, upon which this book is based.

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… and I was actually the interviewee yesterday over at Aaron Mead’s blog, Children’s Books and Reviews. Aaron has conducted many wonderful blogger interviews of late (which I used to do back in the day with my former blog partner-in-crime — I miss those interviews and hope to pick them back up one day). Really, you must go explore Aaron’s informative interviews; at the very least you will get a kick out of Travis Jonker’s snowbank story.

Anyway, my Q & A is here. On and on I yammer about 7-Imp, but here’s the most important part in which I get to thank the kidlitosphere:

Mothering is a large part of why I started blogging. I had gone from full-time work to full-time stay-at-home motherhood (my choice). I found it challenging to spend my days with humans incapable of abstract thought, as much as I adored them, after having spent my days discussing books with teachers and other librarians. Blogging was a way to keep my brain active—and to keep myself involved in children’s lit. I suddenly had some new colleagues, if you will—other bloggers from all around the country, who also loved discussing children’s lit. I still feel like I owe those other bloggers a whole heapin’ lot. As in, seriously, I’m tearing up now. I thank them for re-engaging me in those discussions during an isolating time.

Yes, sometimes you have to make your own colleagues, and I still feel a debt of gratitude to my blogger friends, way too many to name.

In the question from which that response comes, Aaron had asked me about my own children and their reading. In their honor (since they’re both obsessive cat-lovers) and since it hurts the very hemispheres of my brain to post here at 7-Imp without images, I include in this post (top) an image from Italian author/illustrator Caterina Zandonella, who goes by “Cat Zaza” (briefly featured here at 7-Imp in March). When I saw this, I fell for it and secured her permission to post it here.

Many thanks to Aaron for the interview.

And Happy Memorial Day to one and all. I join others in giving thanks to those who have served.

Jules: It’s time to welcome again the very smart Italian blogger with kickin’-good taste, Cristiana Clerici (pictured right), for another spotlight on international illustration. Today, she’s interviewing Italian illustrator Maurizio Quarello, pictured above, who talks about his work, what being stubborn will get you in this field, the appeal of cinema with regard to his work, his inspirations, and how his books initially only get a five-minute window with him. (I love that part.) As always, I am grateful that Cris stops by here to show me and 7-Imp readers what is happening in contemporary picture books over in Europe. To get the low-down on what I call Cristiana Clerici’s International Spotlights, visit this page of the site. I thank her kindly for contributing today. I shall kick back with my coffee and take in their conversation.

Without further ado, here is Cris. Enjoy.

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Once upon a time—forty years ago, to be exact—author Florence Parry Heide wrote a story called Dillweed’s Revenge: A Deadly Dose of Magic with the express intent of having Edward Gorey illustrate it. Joining Heide in penning the story was her brother and his wife, visiting from out of town, and her own daughter, Roxy. “Some editors liked the story but wanted a date on which the art would be finished, and Edward Gorey would never work that way. So, it sat and it sat,” said Heide (at the short Q & A at this link).

Dillweed’s story (a color sketch from the 2010 version is pictured left) is one of, in the words of Heide again, “naughtiness, excitement, and danger.” (Her exact quote, which I love? “Of course kids like to be soothed and reassured and coddled and amused, but they also like to read of naughtiness, excitement, and danger.”) Dillweed uses some magical runes stored under his bed and his bizarre pet (and only friend), Skorped, to get revenge on his lousy, inattentive parents and Umblud and Perfidia, the two hateful servants left in charge of Dillweed, while his parents are off having adventures. It’s a wonderfully warped, dark tale, which I’ve mentally added to this ever-growing list of Slightly Demented Picture Books. Or, if you’re Bob Shea and Lane Smith weighing in on the book: “WHY WE RECOMMEND THIS BOOK: debauchery, black magic, murder and inspired shenanigans throughout.”

According to illustrator Carson Ellis—who is visiting me for cyber-breakfast this morning and who was ultimately chosen to illustrate the 2010 Harcourt release of the book—“controversy over Dillweed‘s grim ending (and reputedly Gorey’s refusal to work on the book if the ending was changed) caused the project to be shelved.” Read the rest of this entry �