Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

My introduction to this lovely book will be short, because I’ve been out of town, but suffice it to say that fans of 2006’s An Egg is Quiet and 2007’s A Seed is Sleepy will be happy to see A Butterfly is Patient (Chronicle Books, May 2011), again from author Dianna Hutts Aston and illustrator Sylvia Long.

As with the previous titles by this duo, this book is beautifully illustrated, informative, and engaging — all at the same time. This is an introduction to butterflies (the many varieties, their behavioral habits, their development and growth, their migration, and more), and Aston and Long do it up with style with text and illustrations that children and adults will pore over. Also as with the previous titles, many double page spreads are designed to look like the notebook of a nature-lover who has paused to note the beauty witnessed. Long’s illustrations, rendered in ink and watercolor, are lush and elegant. And the handlettering! Beautiful. Publishers Weekly calls this one a “lovely mix of science and wonder” and School Library Journal, a “lyrical, colorful, and elegant production.” Kirkus adds, “{s}imilar butterfly albums abound, but none show these most decorative members of the insect clan to better advantage.”

I said I’d be short, right? I meant it. Sorry not to provide more details, but I’ve got some unpacking to do. While I do so, here are some more spreads. You may click each spread to enlarge. Enjoy. Read the rest of this entry �

I’m heading out of town today to do this tomorrow in gorgeous East Tennessee. I get to talk about my favorite picture books of 2011 at an event sponsored by The Center for Children’s & Young Adult Literature at The University of Tennessee and Knox County Public Library, so color me happy. (But also busy. Super. Do I owe you an email? I’ll get to it soon, I swear.) Anyhow, before I leave, here’s some art for you.

At last week’s Kirkus column, I took a look at the author/illustrator debuts from Sophie Blackall and Lauren Castillo. Both women have illustrated many titles previously, but they’ve recently released picture books they penned themselves. John Manders also weighed in over at that column on what’s it like write your own tales: His author/illustrator debut will be this Fall with The Really Awful Musicians (Clarion).

So, to read more about the books and what I like about them, you can hit last week’s column. But today I share some spreads from Sophie’s and Lauren’s books. First up is art from Lauren’s Melvin and the Boy, released by Henry Holt in July, also mentioned here in the New York Times in early July. (The illustration opening this post comes from Melvin and the Boy.) After that is Sophie Blackall’s Are You Awake?, released by Henry Holt/Christy Ottaviano Books in May.

Enjoy.

(Incidentally, at tomorrow’s column, I discuss an early chapter book series from Candlewick that I find truly winning in many ways. That column will be here tomorrow morning.)

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Hey, you. Yes, I’m waving at you, talented illustrators of the world. Please note this call for entries from the Society of Illustrators.

The Original Art: Celebrating the Fine Art of Children’s Book Illustration award/exhibition has celebrated the art of children’s book illustration for over 30 years. The annual exhibit in NYC showcases the year’s best children’s books. Sponsored by the Society of Illustrators, Gold and Silver medals are awarded by a jury to three chosen books representing a wide variety of medium and technique.

At the Call for Entries page at the Society’s site, you will see all the information you need to know — who may submit (illustrators, agents, writers, and publishers); eligibility; how to enter; the entry fee; etc. So head on over there, if you’re so inclined. The deadline for entries is July 22.

Now back to your regularly scheduled coffee . . .

Here’s author/illustrator Mélanie Watt, who has brought us one of contemporary children’s literature’s most memorable characters, being stalked by said character in Florence, Italy. Okay, so perhaps he’s just hanging out with her. He is a bit neurotic after all and probably just wants some company.

Scaredy Orville Squirrel. My favorite defeatist. Children’s lit’s dearest doomsayer. A wunderkind of a worrywart. What I love about this guy is that I relate to him just a little bit. (What? Name me someone who doesn’t have a little bit of that neurosis and then a little bit of another.) And yet as a parent, who tires of the overly-sanitized, fear-of-letting-your-kids-play-in-the-dirt Age of the Antibacterial Soap we currently live in, I laugh to myself and nod my head over Scaredy Squirrel’s little epiphanies at the close of each book, his realization that leaping into the unknown at least makes life a wee bit interesting, his reminders to us all to chill out a bit when it comes to the hyper-protective parenting. Power to Scaredy Squirrel for knocking us upside the head and reminding us to take risks, ditch the fear a bit, and calm down a lot.

And if Mélanie didn’t wrap all that up with great humor, it would be a bit too heavy-handed, huh? But, nope, our petrified, panic-stricken hero with his set schedules and predetermined activities for every day of the week and map legends and ennumerated instructions to himself and Action Plans and huge host of fears (whew — no wonder he doesn’t get out of the tree very often), in a story told with a skeleton of a traditional narrative, manages to make us laugh — and nod in recognition. Just look at that cover for the second title (pictured below), Scaredy Squirrel Makes a Friend. THAT NAME TAG (”Hello. My name is Scaredy“) . . . I mean, that’s just funny. As I’ve said before at the blog, have you ever watched a child hold a Scaredy Squirrel book in his or her hands and just pore over all the images and icons and lists and flow charts and other delightfully left-brained stuff? Sure, it’s probably not for everyone, as no one children’s book is, but I say hurrah for the tongue-in-cheek cartoon illustrations and all the humor and Scaredy’s continued quest to leap into the unknown — even if Godzilla, mobs of lobsters, falling coconuts, vampire bats, poison ivy, piranhas, polka-dot monsters, flocks of seagulls, birthday party ponies, herds of sea monsters, or Bigfoot is involved. Read the rest of this entry �

Before the summer gets away from us all (well, times flies when you’re busy, and before we know it, school will be starting), I’m showcasing today one of the most summery picture books I’ve seen this year, Pig Kahuna (Bloomsbury, May 2011).

This is the third picture book from fine artist Jennifer Sattler. (This 2009 7-Imp post features art from her first two titles.) It tells the story of Fergus and his baby brother, Dink, who are collecting treasures at the shore one day: Seaweed. A pebble that looks like an eyeball. A shell that might really be a shark’s tooth. Their collection grows. And all is well, “as long as Fergus didn’t have to go in the water.” There is the “lurking, murky ickiness factor of the water,” after all.

But then a surfboard washes ashore. They name it Dave. Needless to say, they play with it well away from the water. But when Fergus trots off to get ice cream, Dink sets Dave free. (This is pictured above.) Fergus braves the water to save Dave, but the entire experience isn’t what he expected: Read the rest of this entry �

This morning over at Kirkus, I take a look at two picture book debuts. These are debuts in the sense that they come from two illustrators who previously have not written their own books. Yup, they’re branching out on their own now, both writing and illustrating for the first time, and I happen to think the results are good. The link is here this morning.

Last week, I posted an abbreviated Q & A with George O’Connor, the creator of the Olympians series from First Second Books. These are graphic novels about the gods and goddesses of Greek mythology, and O’Connor loads ’em up with vibrant art, snappy dialogue, and rip-roarin’ action.

Below is the full interview (and just below here is George at his computer, “trying to look busy,” he says), complete with some illustrations and sketches. I thank George for stopping by.

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I’m so pleased to be showcasing the artwork of Canadian illustrator Geneviève Côté today for the 2011 Summer Blog Blast Tour, since I’ve followed her career with interest over the past several years, even covering several of her titles here at 7-Imp. (If you’re thinking “blog blast tour”…hubba wha?… it’s basically a whole bunch of interviews with authors and illustrators at a whole bunch of blogs during the week.) As I’ve written before here at the site, there is a luminescence to Geneviève’s work that draws me in. (With You Always, Little Monday positively glows in more ways than one.) And I like her loose, delicate lines, the vibe to her work that seems both fragile and free-spirited, and her expressive characters. There is a lot going on in her art, yet she manages to make it look effortless.

Geneviève is a French-speaking Canadian, who lives in Montreal, but she’s joining me way down here in Tennessee for lots of coffee. Lots. See? Her breakfast-of-choice is: “Fruit, toast and coffee. And coffee. And coffee.” Best. Answer. Ever.

(You all do know that I just like to pretend, right? And that all these interviews are cyber? I’ve had more than one illustrator ask me once, prior to an interview, how exactly we’re supposed to meet up in person. I wish there were an actual 7-Imp Central with a 7-Imp Breakfast Nook and actual breakfasts with actual coffee brewing, but alas, I’m not magic enough to pull that off. In fact, sadly I’m not magic at all. But, hey, imagination is a beautiful thing. And that will suffice. Onwards, then.)

I can certainly make pots of coffee for the two of us, while she gets out her sketchbook and paintings to share this morning. I thank her for visiting and gracing the blog with her illustrations today. Let’s get right to it…

[Quick note about the rest of the many interviews happening in the Summer Blog Blast Tour: You can see the master schedule here at Chasing Ray. Colleen Mondor is doing a wonderful job of linking to all the interviews going on this week at that ginormous schedule. At the bottom of this post is the rest of today’s schedule, too. Enjoy.] Read the rest of this entry �

I love the very premise of Johanna Wright’s new picture book, Bandits, to be released by Neal Porter/Roaring Brook in mid-August. The book features a family of raccoon bandits who prowl through the night. Well, here … Let me quote for you the official LOC book summary: “Raccoons wreak havoc on a town during the night, rummaging through garbage cans, stealing food, and then running off into the hills to enjoy their loot.”

Yup, that’s it. I love that. Wright brings us the naughtiest of all woodland creatures, appealing to the mischievous, playful, wayward side of children.

(And I must note, that in the spirit of Johanna’s new book, I am posting this not around breakfast, as I usually do, but just a bit after midnight. It is only fitting.)

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Since I mention Katherine Paterson, the reigning National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, below in my kicks, it’s only fitting that I share some spreads today from her picture book adaptation of Saint Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Creatures, illustrated by Pamela Dalton. In Brother Sun, Sister Moon, released in March from Chronicle’s Handprint Books, Paterson reimagines the nearly 800-year-old hymn of praise from Saint Francis, originally written in the Umbrian dialect of Italian and also known as the Canticle of the Sun, which celebrates life — everything from Brother Sun to Sister Moon and “all our Sister Stars who clothe the night” to even the courage given us “in this world of hatred and war.”

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This morning at Kirkus, I’ve got a short Q&A with graphic novelist, author, and picture book illustrator George O’Connor, and we primarily discuss his latest graphic novel in the Olympians series from First Second Books, Hera: The Goddess and her Glory.

This Q&A is an abbreviated version. I’ll have much more from George—and will showcase some of his art—next Friday here at 7-Imp.

The Kirkus link is here this morning.

Last week, I weighed in on the latest novel from Jack Gantos, Dead End in Norvelt, to be released this September from Farrar, Straus and Giroux. (Yup, I’m primarily focused anymore on illustration and picture books here at 7-Imp, but in Kirkus’s Book Blogger Network, I’ve got the “children’s” category to write about, which is more than just picture books, so I make an attempt to cover middle-grade novels over there as well.) That link is here, if you missed it last week and are interested in reading more about the novel. I asked Jack to join me for breakfast this morning, a short Q&A of his own on this novel and what’s next from him.

Jack visited in 2007 as well, and that interview is here. That would be when he said, after I asked what he’s working on next, “I’m working on a series of books that are making me very uncomfortable, which is a good sign. When I write a book that I think everyone is just going to love, then I know I’m on the wrong track.” That right there would be one thing I love about his writing.

Also, when I read his response below about reading a book slowly, I quite literally jumped up and cheered. I know I write in hyperbole here at 7-Imp and you very likely DO NOT BELIEVE ME, but no really, I jumped up and cheered and high-fived an imaginary Jack Gantos and might have even done an imaginary fist bump with an imaginary Jack, too. This would be during the part below where I use the phrase—for about the googleplexth time in one month (how’s that for hyperbole?)—“a day and age of increasingly rigorous standardized testing,” another entry in my Grumpy Old Woman series.

I thank him for visiting today. Without further ado, I welcome Jack with a strong cup of coffee (maybe just a bit of this thrown in — why not?) …

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