Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

Jules: Welcome to our weekly meeting ground for listing Seven(ish) Exceptionally Fabulous, Beautiful, Interesting, Hilarious, or Otherwise Positive Noteworthy Things from the past week, whether book-related or not, that happened to you — as well as our meeting ground for featuring the work of illustrators.

This week, we’re happy that Shadra Strickland has stopped by to share art work from her upcoming illustrated title, Bird, written by Zetta Elliott. Bird will be published this October by Lee & Low Books. This Publishers Weekly link tells us that the book will tell the story of a boy who struggles with his brother’s drug addiction and death through the support of his family.

Just in case you can’t read the text in the image above, I’ve made it a bit bigger for you here, and below that are three more images from the book: Read the rest of this entry �

Jules: Eisha, Julie Paschkis is visiting for breakfast this morning! I’m thrilled she’s here, especially since it was a real delight to read her interview responses.

I remember during Blogging for a Cure last year when David Elzey at the one-and-only the excelsior file featured Paschkis’ beautiful 2008 snowflake and did this great, little write-up about her work as an illustrator. I think he summed up the appeal of her art work well when he wrote:

“. . . there is something in her illustrations that draws me to them. It’s a strange magnetism, a quiet attraction not unlike the way a whisper can pull you closer and cause you to pay more attention over the din that surrounds it . . .”

And, in talking about her illustrations for Julie Larios’ Yellow Elephant: A Bright Bestiary (Harcourt, 2006), he described her art work as having “a warm glow from within.” I love that. He nailed it.

And, hey, he also talked about her Boston Globe–Horn Book Award acceptance speech for Yellow Elephant and how she shared a detail of one of her paintings with the audience — in lieu of a long speech. Nice. And you were there, weren’t you?

eisha: I was indeed, and it saddens me to no end that I didn’t know David yet. We could have hung out. But yeah, she did unroll a big poster-size print of a painting she’d done when she’d gotten the news that she’d won the BGHB Honor, and it was just as lovely as you’d expect. He’s right — her work just glows. I adore her use of color — those bright, intricate, swirly figures and flowers really pop against the black backgrounds she often favors. He’s also right in that her images can tell a story all on their own — it’s amazing how much detail she can pour into a single illustration.

Also, I remember she had on some very cool tights. Lacy, I think. Possibly purple.

Jules: Well, let’s get right to it, shall we? I know we’re both so honored she stopped by for a cyber-breakfast. And what is Julie’s breakfast of choice? “I have oolong tea — fragrant and floral. About an hour later, I have a huge bowl of homemade granola with yogurt and whatever fruit is in season. I am addicted to Straus Family Farms plain yogurt. It is so good I wrote them a fan letter.”

While we’re setting the table, let’s get the basics from Julie: Read the rest of this entry �

It’s Nonfiction Monday, and I’m here again with some new picture book titles (I promise to review a novel again one day very soon). These are both biographies (of sorts) that will particularly please those who like seeing eye-poppingly beautiful art in their picture books.

First is a new biography of the one and only Jacques Cousteau, Manfish, by Jennifer Berne and illustrated by French illustrator Eric Puybaret (Chronicle Books, April 2008). Berne sets out to tell us the life story of Cousteau—but only to some extent. Her bigger purpose is to convey his passion for conservation and teaching conservation to the world, particularly children. Berne opens it on quite the lyrical note:

“Bubbles rising
Through the silence of the sea,
Silvery beads of breath
From a man
Deep, Deep down
In a strange and shimmering ocean land
Of swaying plants and fantastic sea creatures,
A manfish
Swimming, diving
Into the unknown,
Exploring underwater worlds no one has ever seen.”

This is our opening spread, Puybaret showing us Coustea from behind in a stunning underwater world of aquamarine. “Our story starts many years before, in France with a little baby boy born under the summer sun,” the book continues. Jacques was a curious boy, interested in not only water, but also creating his own books, machines, blueprints, movies, and more. After joining the French Navy, he sailed the world and filmed what he saw: “In China, he filmed men catching fish with their bare hands. They held their breath underwater for many minutes. Jacques wondered what that would be like.” Read the rest of this entry �

I’m going to stray a bit this week from the usual share-a-random-poem moments on Fridays, which are always lovely, and tell you about two new picture books: The second is written in rhyme (rhyme that won’t make you want to gag)—and it just so happens that it’s an exemplary book for the wee, wee, wee’est in your life—and the first is by a picture book author who has been reading and writing poetry with children for many years (and who is also a visiting poet in schools), Susan Marie Swanson. And a beautemous book it is, indeed. I also snagged a spread from each book so that I can show you some of the art work inside.

To Be Like the Sun by Susan Marie Swanson and illustrated by Margaret Chodos-Irvine (Harcourt, April 2008) is written, it’s safe to say, in a free verse style (I see that School Library Journal refers to it as free verse, too—“lyrical free verse,” at that). In this luminescent book, which celebrates both the sensual and abstract joys of summer, a young girl ponders a little sunflower seed in her hand:

“Hello, little seed,
striped gray seed.
Do you really know everything
about sunflowers?”

The girl then proceeds to break up the earth to plant her seed, considering the “real work down in the dark” the seed does:

“Not radish work or pumpkin,
not thistle work—
sunflower work.
All the instructions
are written in your heart.”

Read the rest of this entry �

This is author/illustrator Jim Averbeck. He’s showing us the real life of a Regional Advisor, as he used to serve as the Regional Advisor for the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators for the San Francisco Bay Area. “What do you mean they turned the room we planned on using for critiques into an ADA bathroom!” he’s screaming here. “What do you mean the speaker’s plane is late! What do you mean they didn’t deliver the coffee? ARARR-
RRRghhh!!” (That’s his own, original ARARRRRRghhh there, verbatim. Nice argh, huh?)

Below that picture is a less-stressed-out picture of Jim (“My critique groups friends call this my ‘dappled boycake’ picture,” he told me. “Harassment! It’s tough being a man in a woman’s world. It was taken at a writing retreat I did with them at the house in Sonoma County”). I’d say waaaay less-stressed-out, since he’s all reclining in the sun there, looking like he’s just had a very filling breakfast.

Breakfast? you say? Oh yeah, Jim stopped by for breakfast here at 7-Imp for our illustrator interview series. And here’s the thing: Jim’s an illustrator but not a published one — yet. But, after reading Jim’s debut picture book, In a Blue Room (Harcourt, April 2008)—which was illustrated by Tricia Tusa and is seven kinds of fabulous (reviewed here by Yours Truly)—I visited his site, saw some of his art work, and lined him up for an interview in our illustrator series. (I even tacked on a few extra questions specifically about his career thus far). Seriously, people, have you read In a Blue Room yet? I’ve been runnin’ my mouth about how it’s one of the best picture books I’ve seen this year. Let’s take a moment here and soak in some of its picture-book-goodness: Read the rest of this entry �

If there were any doubt to the reader that this was a biography of Lady Liberty, illustrator Matt Tavares makes it clear on the title page spread with an impressive view of Manhattan from the Statue’s eyes—a very nice touch, I must say. Yes, Doreen Rappaport brings us Lady Liberty: A Biography (Candlewick; May 13, 2008), as told from the perspective of everyone from the engineers to the sculptor to those who wrote poetry in her honor to those who gathered nickels and pennies—and farm fowl—to help fund her.

In the opening spread—the author’s own musings on her grandfather’s journey one hundred and twenty years ago from Latvia to the United States and what it must have felt like for him to see Lady Liberty in the harbor—Tavares brings to life the boat of Rappaport’s grandfather, “a ship packed with people from many different countries . . . and there was Lady Liberty greeting them all . . . People lifted babies so they could see her. Tears ran down my grandfather’s face. People around him were crying, too. And then a wave of cheering and hugging swept over the ship.” And, in another nice touch, Tavares paints the present-day Rappaport in the picture as well, standing above the immigrants and also looking reverently at the statue. Such a lovely, affecting spread, knowing she is standing above her own grandfather, perhaps even the one lifting his arms out toward the statue. Read the rest of this entry �

You know what’s great? Waking up and finding Frank Dormer in your kitchen. He’s tiptoe-ing around, so as not to disturb you in your pre-caffeinated state. He’s already put the Pop Tarts in the toaster, and has the kettle just about ready to whistle. So thoughtful. So generous. So… GAH!!! DUDE!!! Is that… Is that a frog under my napkin?!?

Very funny, Frank. What are you, like, nine?

But okay, now that we’ve peeled ourselves off the ceiling, we can admit that that’s what we like about him. There’s a sly, youthful quality to his illustrations. There’s a pronounced wit in the way he wields his pen and paintbrush. He’s a little offbeat, a little funky… and he’s swimming in talent.

He is also very generous. Last year, completely out of the blue, he created for us this fabulous beloved original illustration of the tea party scene from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland after our Sunday-kicks illustrator feature. Read the rest of this entry �

Last year, the Little Golden Book celebrated 65 years of existence, and in October Random House released Golden Legacy: How Golden Books Won Children’s Hearts, Changed Publishing Forever, and Became an American Icon Along the Way by children’s literature writer, critic, and historian, Leonard Marcus. I’m a bit slow in getting to my review of this beautifully-designed, handsome, 246-page book about the history of the Little Golden Book, as well as the illustrators and writers who wrote for them and the savvy marketing folks who sold them. And, if you’ve read a Marcus title before, you know that you get much more than just that — he also delves into the wider world of children’s publishing as a whole during the time of the rise of the Little Golden Book, takes a sweeping look at the cultural landscape of that time, and shows how the books reflected our postwar culture and how the line of books left a “deep emotional imprint” . . . and “an indelible mark on mainstream American culture.”

Read the rest of this entry �

Jules: Eisha and I were almost left speechless when we saw the illustrations we’re featuring today, ones from Italian illustrator Nicoletta Ceccoli. But not speechless enough to tell you a bit about her visit this morning to 7-Imp.

Back at the beginning of March, I reviewed Kate Bernheimer’s The Girl in the Castle Inside the Museum (Schwartz & Wade, February ’08). That review is here. I was so taken with Ceccoli’s illustrations in this title—and then I visited her website and fell in love a bit more—that I took a chance on contacting her to see if we could feature her one Sunday. Lucky for me, she reads and speaks English, and she said yes! About the mermaids above, Nicoletta told us: This is a “sample proof I did for an upcoming book I’m illustrating for Houghton Mifflin, titled Dignity of Dragons . . . it will be all about mythological creatures . . . it is a very interesting theme for me. I also wanted to show you some work taken from a show I had last year in a Seattle gallery, Roq La Rue . . . these works (the tower and the angel) are not done for a story or a book.” Read the rest of this entry �

Well, it’s still National Poetry Month last time I checked, and I had wanted to talk about poetry in April way more than I have. But I’ve managed to get to some new picture book poetry anthologies today. Actually, the first one is an exception — it’s not an anthology, but it is still a perfect fit for National Poetry Month. Let’s get right to it, then . . .

I’m trying to be better about not posting about books way way WAY before they get released, but I’m including this striking picture book in today’s in-honor-of-National-Poetry-
Month round-up, as it’s a children’s poem written over one hundred years ago by American writer Eugene Field — and it’ll be just a matter of weeks before this title hits the shelves anyway. Field was an essayist (known for his humorous essays) and a journalist, but he was best known for his children’s poetry (“He believed children should indulge their daydreams and imaginations before they must assume the responsibilities of adulthood,” writes illustrator Giselle Potter at the book’s close). This is a new picture book adaptation of the timeless poem by Potter. Much like illustrator Rebecca Gibbon, whose most recent picture book I reviewed here this week, Potter’s spreads—speaking from a dimensionality standpoint, or spatial extent, not as in quality—come across as rather flat and her perspective often slightly askew, giving her illustrations a classic folk-art feel. I’ve always been a fan. I love the sense of joy that pervades her work, the rich tones of her watercolors. And, boy howdy, let me tell you that with this title, she takes “rich” to an all-new level. This is a night-time tale after all, and Potter’s not joking around about her blues. These are deep, luxuriant evening blues and strong, robust browns (such as, of the wooden shoe carrying the three wee ones through the sky). In a fascinating Illustrator’s Note at the close of the book, she writes: Read the rest of this entry �