Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books once described one of Mini Grey’s picture books as “expectation-busting.” I love that, because, first of all, don’t you get weary sometimes of the descriptors used for many picture books? Maybe I read too many reviews, but there’s “whimsical,” “quirky,” and “sweet,” to name a few. Yes, they’re necessary, and you gotta call it like it is, but “expectation-busting”? Right on. Breath of fresh air. It’s also great, ’cause it’s generally true for Mini’s work. (Many of her books—think about it—also usually deal, in one way or another, with death, though they’re never macabre.) Her latest title, Three By the Sea (click the cover to the left to supersize it)—released by Knopf in April, though originally published in Great Britain in 2010—is Mini doing what she does best: Funny, sly, thought-provoking. And she, once again, cracks some of those expectations wide open. That’s for sure.

You see, I thought the story was going one way and telling me one thing, and then it threw me for a loop. I like this. Oh, right. Brief synopsis first, an illustrated synopsis: Read the rest of this entry �

Below are some images I had intended to include in this morning’s post.

In last week’s Kirkus column, in which I chatted with author Candace Fleming, she noted that in Fall 2012 she’ll have a new picture book out, illustrated by Eric Rohmann, called Oh, No! (published by Schwartz & Wade). Below is a sneak peek at this book — a nearly-finished relief print for the front endpaper and a close-up. Enjoy.

Images are copyright © 2011 Eric Rohmann and used with permission.

Remember illustrator Michael Wertz, this funny guy, who interviewed himself here at 7-Imp in 2009 and blatantly disregarded the usual rules for pronoun use? Here’s a quick post to show some illustrations from the follow-up title to the one featured in that post, Betsy Franco’s A Curious Collection of Cats.

And that title would be one in which Franco and Wertz turn their attention to dogs, called A Dazzling Display of Dogs (Tricycle Press, January 2011), what Publishers Weekly calls a “clever, jubilant gem.”

Just as with 2009’s cat title, this is a collection of concrete poetry — thirty-four poems, everything from haiku to free verse to cinquains. The very prolific Franco impresses again with this volume of visual poems, which capture a range of tones but primarily affectionate and sweetly goofy. And it’s all engaging fun. So are Wertz’s brightly-colored monoprints, a feast for your eyes. Many of the same elements that made the cat collection work are on display here again with this volume of canine poems, in which the text cannot possibly exist without the art and vice versa, these smart, witty poems embedded in images nearly bursting off the page.

Since it’s way more fun—and much easier—to show you what I’m talking about, I’ve got some spreads to show you today. Enjoy. Read the rest of this entry �

I’ve had some sick daughters of late—not anything really terrible, mind you (knock on some cyber-wood)—but burning foreheads and nasty colds? Yes, I know of what author Molly Rausch speaks here.

Molly’s first picture book, My Cold Went on Vacation (Putnam, January 2011), illustrated by Nora Krug, gives us the perspective of one such pesky cold bug. The young boy you see in bed above starts out with a runny nose on Wednesday, which turns into an achy throat on Thursday and a burning forehead by Friday. On Sunday, however, his cold is gone: “I wonder where it went…” he says. Molly and Nora map out that cold’s adventure: Last summer, it hit Iowa; before that, Las Vegas. “My mom says I caught it on the school bus. But I don’t remember catching anything. I’d like to know where it went. And when it’s going to come back again.” Did his cold go on vacation? he wonders. To Canada? Flying over the Sahara? In the end, he discovers that the cold didn’t travel too far after all: It simply crossed the hall to his sister’s room.

The idea for this book came to Molly about four years ago, “joking around with Nora when we were both getting over colds,” she told me. “I wrote her an email saying that my cold went on vacation and I was sure it would be back soon. She answered with oh yes, I got a postcard from mine a few weeks ago.” Eventually, Nora suggested such an adventure tale for a children’s book. “It was great fun collaborating with her! We both love to travel, and each chose certain places we definitely wanted to send our cold.” Read the rest of this entry �

This morning over at Kirkus, I’ll have a Q & A with author Candace Fleming about her acclaimed new biography for children and teens, Amelia Lost: The Life and Disappearance of Amelia Earhart. This is one of the best books I’ve seen all 2011, and I wouldn’t be surprised later if it got lots of shiny, pretty awards. The link is here.

If you missed last week’s column, I wrote a Paul Galdone appreciation of sorts, given the re-release this Spring of some of his folk tale picture books in a series Houghton Mifflin is calling “Folk Tale Classics.” Below are some spreads (each followed by their covers) from the four titles they released this Spring, Three Little Kittens (originally published in 1986), The Three Little Pigs (1970), The Little Red Hen (1973), and The Three Bears (1972). Enjoy. Read the rest of this entry �

“The dark side of a nursery rhyme.” I wish I’d written that. That is from a reader over at this Amazon link who has seen Italian illustrator Nicoletta Ceccoli’s Beautiful Nightmares, released by Soleil Editions (France) last Fall. “Don’t let the rosy cheeks and dewy eyes fool you,” this person added. “{T}hese characters are in control of the subliminal messages that abound….”

I’ve got some illustrations from that book to share here this morning, this book which is a must-have for any Ceccoli fans. I’ve had Beautiful Nightmares for a while and have been wanting to share some of these images, but last week I stumbled upon this below video of Nicoletta speaking about her work — in celebration of an overseas exhibit of hers. (She’s speaking in English, incidentally; at first I thought I’d be seriously out of luck and just guessing on the Italian.) So, I thought today I’d share the images along with the video.

7-Imp readers will recognize her work. She first stopped by here in 2008 to share some art and say a few words. I then featured her illustrations here from Kate Bernheimer’s The Girl in the Castle Inside the Museum; here from Debbie Ouellet’s How Robin Saved Spring; and here from Jacqueline K. Ogburn’s A Dignity of Dragons: Collective Nouns for Magical Beasts. (Note: Ms. Bernheimer contributes a short written piece at the opening of Beautiful Nightmares.) Read the rest of this entry �

When you’re super swamped and have your own writing deadlines and a whole host of other stuff to do, yet you see a picture book like Jim Averbeck’s Except If, released by Atheneum in January of this year, and you really super bad want to feature the book, what do you do? Well, you could email the author/illustrator and tell him exactly how super swamped you are but that you’d love for him to send an in-his-own-words type of feature about the book, along with some art, if he’s so inclined to oblige. So, that’s what I did in this instance. And when you give someone like Mr. Averbeck the freedom to just run with it? Well, you’re in for some fun.

You see, Jim has this very close friend. Her name is Jessica, and she’ll introduce herself in just a moment. Since I was so swamped when this book was first released (yes, this was over three months ago—and I’ve also been sitting on this post about a month now—so I’m happy to finally be bringing it to readers), Jim invited Jessica over to interview him in my stead. I was happy to turn the breakfast table over to her. As you can see below, she has a very festive scarf, for one, which I may beg to borrow. Also her full name is just a KICK to say.

If you haven’t seen Except If yet, know that it’s been described as no less than a “short, sweet, philosophical speculation” (Publishers Weekly), an “existential” and “deceptively simple yet delightful tale” (Kirkus), and “contrarian” fun (Booklist). The book starts with an egg, which is not what you think. It’s not a baby bird, you see, “but it will become one except if it becomes a baby snake.” Readers’ expectations continue to be overturned with successive page turns—and the repeated use of “except if”—in this puzzler of a book, less of a story than a “convergence of fanciful possibilities,” as School Library Journal wrote. Just when readers think the story is going one way, Averbeck provides a narrative detour. Adds the PW review, “{e}ven very young readers will find they’ve succeeded in following a rather convoluted piece of reasoning, clause by clause and picture by picture; it’s a book in which the action unfolds in the mind as much as it does on the page.” I don’t want to give it all away either and spoil your experience reading it, if you haven’t already, but let’s just say it ends as it started — with a pale blue egg and maybe, just maybe, a baby bird.

Okay. Back to work. Jessica’s here to take over—she’s already brewed the coffee—and I thank her. And Jim. For running with it. No except-ifs about that one. Read the rest of this entry �

{Edited to Add, Sunday evening: Quick announcement to say that Sergio has been invited to spend a month with Maurice Sendak as part of the Sendak Fellowship, which I believe is in its second year. I didn’t mention that in this post this morning, as I thought it was not-to-be-announced yet, and Sergio himself is too modest to mention it, I think I can safely say. But it turns out it’s okay to announce it, so here I am celebrating Sergio’s good—and well-deserved—news. I believe the fellowship starts in the Fall, and it means Sergio will find himself in Connecticut, sitting next to Maurice Sendak, talking about books, learning from the master himself. Author/illustrator Paul Schmid discussed his experience as a Sendak Fellow here at this fairly recent post, if anyone would like to read more about the experience.}

We’re being greeted this Easter Sunday by Eve Bunting’s and Sergio Ruzzier’s Little Elephant from Tweak Tweak (Clarion Books). I think if I could pinch that elephant’s cheeks, I would. (This is a sentence I never thought I’d type in life.)

Since it’s Easter today, I wonder if I’ll be kickin’ it alone. I hope, where ever you may be, that you’re enjoying chocolate or marshallows or hard-boiled eggs or candy robin eggs or Peeps or dark chocolate bunnies or jelly beans — but just not all at once. I also hope you get to hunt for an egg or two. Preferably the kind with treats hidden inside.

Author/illustrator Sergio Ruzzier is here today, as mentioned, not only to share his Easter egg up there with us, but also to give us a sneak peek into his latest illustrated title, Tweak Tweak, written by none other than the esteemed Eve Bunting, who has written over two hundred children’s books in her career, including Smoky Night, the winner of the 1995 Caldecott Medal, illustrated by David Díaz.

I thought Tweak Tweak was already out, but I see its official release date is May. Ack! This is what I get for being generally disorganized with the stacks of picture books that surround me. I don’t mean to sound all taunting with a book you can’t get your hands on yet, but you won’t have to wait long. Not to mention it’ll also be worth the wait. I was eager to see it myself, as a fan of both Bunting and Ruzzier, and it truly delivers. Read the rest of this entry �

Friday morning over at Kirkus, I’ll have a Paul Galdone appreciation, given the re-release this Spring of some of his folk tale picture books in a series Houghton Mifflin is calling “Folk Tale Classics.” The link will be here then.

If you missed last week’s column, I covered a whole handful of recent picture book titles that are wordless or nearly wordless, several of them overseas imports. That column is here if you want to read my very brief take on each book. Today here at 7-Imp, I have art from each book to share. That means a whole heapin’ TON of illustrations below for your eyes to take in. You will see (all those names I didn’t have room for up there in this post’s title) artwork from: Barbara Lehman (The Secret Box), who will be visiting 7-Imp in the near future; French graphic designer Cécile Boyer (Woof Meow Tweet-Tweet); Dutch illustrator Loes Riphagen (Animals Home Alone); Bruce Ingman (When Martha’s Away, briefly mentioned in the Kirkus column and the only book there not published this year—in this case, 1995, though Candlewick’s edition came out this year—and this would be the book with the cat named Flash Harry, which made me have to put down the book and laugh a bit); Béatrice Rodriguez (Fox and Hen Together, her sequel to last year’s The Chicken Thief); Arthur Geisert (Ice); Craig Frazier (Bee & Bird), who also will be visiting 7-Imp in the near future; and French author/illustrator Hervé Tullet (Press Here). Again, to read about them, visit last week’s link. To see the art, why, just stick around. It’s all below — some spreads from each title, followed by its cover.

Quick note, though: Just under the spreads from Fox and Hen Together are some words from the book’s author/illustrator, Béatrice Rodriguez. The publisher, Enchanted Lion Books, shared with me an interview Rodriguez has done (for them) about The Chicken Thief, Fox and Hen Together, and (evidently) one more sequel that is to-come. They gave me permission to quote a portion of the interview. So, fans of Rodriguez can catch that below. Enjoy. Read the rest of this entry �

Will you join me this evening in quickly taking a look at some Floyd Cooper illustrations, just because I love his work so? His latest illustrated title, Margaret H. Mason’s These Hands (Houghton Mifflin, March 2011), tells the story of a grandfather with his young grandson. Mason, in her closing Author’s Note, tells how during the 1950s and early ’60s, African American workers at the Wonder Bread, Awrey, and Tastee bakery factories were not allowed to handle the bread in any way, meaning they were forbidden to operate as bread dough mixers or bread dough handlers. Having learned that story from an old friend and how he and his friends joined together to fight this discrimination, Mason nestled it within this warm picture book tale of a grandfather talking with his grandchild: “Look at these hands, Joseph,” he says to him, pointing out all the many things his hands could do—tie a triple bowline knot in three seconds flat, pluck the ace of spades right out of thin air, and more. But, “{d}id you know these hands were not allowed to mix the bread dough in the Wonder Bread factory?” he asks him and proceeds to tell his tale. Read the rest of this entry �