Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

Jules: Well, hello there! Eisha and I have been taking a holiday blog break for a while here, and — as I type this — I’m still not even sure she’s done with her holiday travelling. I hope she is and is able to contribute her kicks this week.

You may have noticed last week that we went ahead and kicked it old-skool style — and then some — with Arthur Rackham at our very brief kicks post. Well, we had originally planned to feature some new art work from the talented R. Gregory Christie, but we re-scheduled that for this week. We were worried no one would see it last week, due to the busy holidays, and we hope that folks are around to see it this week, too, since we’re excited to be featuring it.

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It’s really time I took a blog break for the holidays, but here’s a post which I’m slidin’ in right before all the gift-giving begins. These are the types of books I don’t normally review here at 7-Imp: They’re all what are labelled “novelty,” I suppose, in one way or another. But I thought I’d go ahead and cover them here for anyone who might be looking for last-minute gift ideas. These are Books Plus Some, the “plus” being pop-up features, fold-out pages, 3-D surprises, parts to assemble, some dragons, some ocean liners, even a tutu. Without further ado . . .

This would simply be a stinkin’ cool gift for someone. How’s that for professional-sounding? This is Dr. Ernest Drake’s (bah-dum-ching) purported scientific study of/field guide to dragons, including an introduction to dragon-spotting, the migration and habitats of the creatures, equipment and fieldwork notes, notes on dragon evolution and extinct dragons, and then sixteen pages of classified dragon species — from the European Dragon (Draco occidentalist magnus) to the Tasmanian Dragon (Draco semifascia). Lastly, there are four pages of an admittedly non-exhaustive list of Pseudo-Dragons (“{t}he keen field dragonologist may, if he or she is lucky and observant, come across various creatures that appear to be related to dragons but that are, in point of fact, not dragons”). The book itself includes pages designed to look fading, antiquated, yellowing — with details such as water drops and cup stains on the pages. The pages in the classification section also include little fold-up flaps on the bottom of each page, providing information about the egg of each species. And, best of all, there are the pieces to twelve dragon models included in little pockets all inside the book. And they’re not difficult to assemble. Recommended for your budding fantasy-lover who especially loves to construct models. More information can be found here at the Ology World site, complete with the nameless British librarian.

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So, here’s another round-up in my Holiday Book Challenge 2008, quite possibly my last round-up, since a). I’m getting busy myself with holiday preparations right now; b). so is everyone else, and I’ll be surprised if anyone even reads this at all; and c). if anyone is actually paying attention and taking notes and procuring titles, then I better get this done now, almost one week before Christmas, and not post any reviews any later. Some of these aren’t specifically “holiday” titles — just rather snowy. Enjoy.

This Christmas title opens with an author’s note about how McKissack was inspired to write this story while researching the forthcoming Stitchin’ and Pullin’: A Gee’s Bend Quilt, illustrated by Cozbi Cabrera (and which several places online said was published this year by Random House, though I haven’t seen it. One blogger who seems to be in the know says it’ll appear in ’08). McKissack visited a Mrs. Mary Lee Bendolph in Boykin, Alabama, and was entertained by stories of her childhood during the Great Depression in an all-black town identified as the “poorest place in America.” In McKissack’s story, it’s Christmas during the Depression, and three young African-American sisters are wondering if Santy Claus, who only shows up “once in a while,” will be visiting this year. Nella, the middle child, from whose perspective the story is told, longs for a Baby Betty doll and is delighted to find one on Christmas morning — along with some English walnuts, peppermint candy sticks, oranges, and raisins. When the three girls fight over the doll and their father shames them for fighting over a gift and orders them to “{w}ork this out and no more squabbling,” Nella reminds her sisters that she hoped and asked for the doll, even though they told her she wasn’t likely to receive one. As she tries to play with the doll (“I wish you would do something more than sit around like a spot on a toad”) while hearing her sisters pal it up outside, she finally decides to join them, handing the baby over to her sisters. They all have a tea party with the doll on the book’s final spread. Both author and illustrator have captured well a specific moment in time in the poor, rural South of the Great Depression — McKissack with her vivid characterization, traced with light moments of humor, and her detailed text and Pinkney with his luminescent pencil and watercolor illustrations of a poor family with very little possessions but lots of warmth and joy in the home. Best of all, it sings with a universal truth: Who wants that long-coveted, fancy-pants gift when there’s no one to share it with?

The story begins in a “tiny village more or less covered in snow.” The children of this village have their faces pressed to the window, looking for the man they suspect will bring them gifts; instead, they hear an awful noise, coming from one of the cottages (“This cottage was already regarded with some suspicion, as it was the only place not decorated with flashing colored lights at this time of year”). It was a family baking a latke, and the latke — not unlike the Gingerbread Boy — began to scream, once he was put into a pan full of very hot olive oil. Read the rest of this entry �

Yes, the two best books. I hesitate to type “holiday season,” ’cause one of them isn’t technically a holiday title, but it is about to be released and it’s quite snowy, so I’m putting it into this category.

First, yes, it’s true that Harvey Slumfenburger’s Christmas Present in all its seven kinds of blinding awesome-ness and glory has been re-released this year. You may remember that I mentioned it in this post, and several others chimed in with their love and adoration for this fourteen-year-old book by John Burningham. And someone said he thought it’d been re-released and then someone else agreed and then my hopes soared and then . . . yes! I confirmed it. Seven cheers for Candlewick. They’ve re-released it (“a new midi edition,” back by popular demand and all that. I suppose the world loves Harvey as much as I do). You can even view an interior spread of the book here at Candlewick’s site. If there’s anything to the notion of karma, why then I’m living well, ’cause I even got a review copy. I admit it takes some adjusting to view it in its smaller format, but it’s still Harvey. And it’s still wonderful. My ramblings from last year about why you need to read this book are here.

And then secondly . . . Wow. Wow. Wow. Eric Rohmann’s new picture book. It’s already exciting enough to hear he has a new one, but then to get an ARC and to hold it in my hands when it’s so damn near perfect. It really is fabulous. It’s called A Kitten Tale (Knopf Books for Young Readers), and it’s a splendid tale for the very young. Read the rest of this entry �

Our apologies to Poetry Friday, which we love and adore, but we started this tri-review in mid-August. O yes, we did. It’s taken us this long. No more delays then. Here is 7-Imp’s absolutely riveting current tri-review. Go get your popcorn now, and come back, read, and enjoy.

Jules: Mo Willems, picture book creator extraordinaire, has graced the world of children’s lit with a new beginning reader series, the Elephant & Piggie books. And heaven bless him, because they are very funny and clever and . . . Wait. I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let’s just say they’re All Mo All the Time -– each and every book.

If you missed the first two -– My Friend is Sad and Today I Will Fly!, both released in April of this year by Hyperion -– then, run! Don’t walk! Run to the nearest bookstore or library, especially if you have those so-called emerging readers in your home, because the books -– met with rave reviews all-around -– are . . . well, as Booklist put it, they are “{a}ccessible, appealing, and full of authentic emotions about what makes friendships tick . . . {they} will put a contemporary shine on easy-reader collections and give Willems’ many fans–whatever their age or reading level–two more characters to love.” In July of this year, the following two books in the series, I Am Invited to a Party! and There Is a Bird on Your Head!, were released (also by Hyperion, whom we thank for review copies of these titles).

And how can we discuss Mo’s new beginning reader series without, arguably, the biggest Mo fan in the kidlitosphere, Pam Coughlan, a.k.a. MotherReader? So, we invited her to a tri-review of these titles and are thrilled she said yes.

MoReader, we are happy to have you here! I could go on and on about why I think these books work so well, but I’m sure we’ll all get into that. I’ll add quickly now before letting you really begin here that the very first time I read one of these, my three-year-old daughter was with me. We had picked up My Friend is Sad at the library and were really excited, as we’d been waiting for it. We sat down right there at the nearest table and took a gander, and we immediately were doing those nerdy hyperventilating laughs -– in a library, no less -– because it was almost painfully funny. So, we just packed up to take them home where we could laugh louder. I think that one’s my favorite, since the slapstick genius of all the Elephant & Piggie titles is at its best in that book, in my humble opinion.

What do you think? As a Hugely Huge Mo Fan, are you just crazy about them? Disappointed, by chance? Are they all you thought they’d be? Read the rest of this entry �

Minerva Louise has many fans, and I don’t think they’ll be disappointed with this new title, all about Minerva’s confusion on Christmas Eve. To be sure, it’s not anything new and still the same formula: Minerva is slightly feather-brained, and the child reader gets to be in the know, in on the joke, one step ahead of the protagonist. But it works every time, due to Minerva’s unassuming charm. And Stoeke writes with a clarity and conciseness that is perfect for the preschool-aged crowd — and even for beginning readers (Stoeke makes it easy to put those beginning inferencing skills to work). “If ever a chicken was meant to enjoy Christmas Eve, it’s the eternally upbeat, perpetually ingenuous Minerva Louise,” wrote the Horn Book review (which you can read in its entirety here). Beginning the book with Minerva’s perspective from outside the house (“Minerva Louise loved the way the snow sparkled on the house with the red curtains”), she works her way closer to the home and ends up inside. And all along the way, she’s baffled and bewildered, as is usually the case: She thinks the lights on the trees outside are fireflies, “all dressed up in party colors!”; she sees reindeer on the roof and thinks they’re goats; and she thinks the angel atop the tree is a “pretty white hen” who’s “been laying the most beautiful eggs! They are all over the branches.” The illustrations are simple shapes with simple details, outlined in black, and this time there’s a bit more of a kick in color, what with the Christmas reds and greens goin’ on. The final illustration makes for big laughs from the preschool crowd (and this adult, too): Minerva gets a present from Santa (“the farmer in the red hat”) and promptly throws it aside after opening it to sit in the warm tissue paper inside the packaging with a joyful smile only Minerva can give. Funny stuff. Long live Minerva.

It truly is hard to come across outstanding holiday titles, but I really like this one. There are only so many situations Santa can get himself into, only so much trouble that can be concocted for him, to make the conflict for a new Christmas title. Usually, it’s a play on A Visit from St. Nicholas, more commonly called The Night Before Christmas, which can get old. But Wheeler keeps things uncluttered for the youngest reader in this title; Read the rest of this entry �

Well, it’s December 1, and remember my challenge to myself to round-up some reviews of new holiday titles? I’m not going to review only holiday titles all month. Oh lordamercy no. But what better day to throw a holiday review out than on the first day of the mostly-crazy-making but sometimes-lovely month of holidaying?

So, here we have Susan Middleton Elya’s and Merry Banks’ N Is for Navidad, illustrated by Joe Cepeda (Chronicle Books; September 2007; review copy). This is both a celebration of Christmas, Latino-style, as well as an alphabet book in rhyme. Each letter of the alphabet introduces a new Spanish word in bold, brightly-colored fonts, even generously giving an entire page to “Ch” (“for chiles, to string, not to eat!”); to “Ll” (“for llegada,” or Arrival); three entries for “N” (“N is for the nacimiento we’ve made. Ñ is for niño. He’ll soon be displayed. At midnight we all head to church for la misa. At last! ¡Navidad! Each month, a sonrisa”); and two entries for “R” (“R is for risas. We laugh at the joke. Tio has tricked us again. We’re still broke! Rr is for arroz to go with the beans. Company’s coming. We know what that means”).

At the close of the book, the authors provide a note, which explains the meaning of the Spanish words and explanations of some of the customs. This makes this already-good book even better; it’s a small crime when picture book authors in such books fail to give us clueless readers some help (I know nothing about a Latino version of Christmas. Make that “knew,” ’cause now I’m a bit in-the-know, thanks to the informative Author’s Note). Read the rest of this entry �

I have been keeping a list of picture books I read and enjoyed — or at least found noteworthy for one reason or another — this year, but I got a bit busy with the Blogging for a Cure effort (which was well worth my time, and I miss those snowflakes already). So, do you know what I’m going to do right here, which risks making me look exceptionally lazy? I’m going to round-up reviews of some of those titles by folks who also enjoyed them and who can generally be relied upon for thoughtful reviewing. It’s the only way I’ll get caught up with my list, and I don’t want some of these books to pass by without at least mentioning them here at 7-Imp. I love reading reviews and following all-things-reviews, so this is actually rather fun for me. So, here we go.

Wait! Don’t miss MotherReader’s very informative November Carnival of Children’s Literature, posted yesterday. Okay, now here we go:

I consider this the biggest casualty of me getting so busy that I had to push aside some picture book reviews, ’cause I love love LOVE me some Amy Schwartz books. And this is no exception. Darlene, a hippo who wants to be a star, attends acting school and gets to play The Flood in Noah’s Ark, Professor Looney in a science fiction tale, and Sleeping Beauty. Darlene, ever-so unassuming and rather bumbly, manages to goof up each role, yet — as Tasha at Kids Lit pointed out in her review in September — “children are led up to the emotions but not told what to think, which is very refreshing in a picture book. In fact, the children will fret much more than Miss Darlene ever does about her mistakes.” Yes, each mistake Darlene makes is misunderstood as and written up as genius by the local theatre critic. Jessica Bruder also covered this title in The New York Times in November here (though you must register to read it — hey, registration is free):

Schwartz’s text is charming and hilariously understated. Her watercolor-and-ink illustrations are rendered in quiet pastel tones, but their humorous details — Darlene’s cavernous, buck-toothed yawn; animals dressing up like other animals to play parts in “Noah’s Ark”; a beret-wearing fox for a drama teacher — pack a hippo-size wallop. In the end, you have to cheer Darlene’s unlikely success.

What I love about Amy Schwartz is the seeming simplicity of both her writing and illustrations, but there’s a lot going on. I think she’s one of the best contemporary picture book creators. Bonus: Go here to see some illustrations from the book (and her wonderful ’06 title, A Beautiful Girl, which I reviewed here last year).

Oh my, one of my very favorite picture books from this year. It’s from the Queen of Quirky, internationally-acclaimed Swedish author/illustrator of many picture books I love, Pija Lindenbaum (here’s a 7-Imp review of one of my favorites of hers). Mia adores her Uncle Tommy, but then Fergus appears in his life, and Mia thinks he should just go back from whence he came (“He looks boring. And his pants are ugly.” Not to mention he’s monopolizing the time and attention of her beloved uncle). And how refreshing that Lindenbaum does not make a huge issue out of Mia’s uncle’s homosexuality in this title; instead, she focuses on the young protagonist’s jealousy of her uncle’s partner. Betsy Bird reviewed this title here and here (Parts One and Two) in September: “Picture books where the fact that someone is gay is incidental to the action are few and far between. For its subtlety, grace, and ribald sense of humor I’m propping up Lindenbaum’s latest as perhaps my favorite foreign language picture book of the year.” Read the rest of this entry �

Didacticism in children’s literature. Bad. Bad. Or so we’re always taught in our children’s lit and/or library school courses (though, thank goodness we have authors like M.T. Anderson — see this November ’06 interview — and Katherine Paterson to make us think harder on the finer points of the issue). Here’s some subtle and even not-so-subtle moralizing of manners in the form of two very entertaining picture books that I can get behind, books that set out to instruct and give didacticism a big ‘ol bear hug and a noogy.

Life is rough when you’re the aging Big Bad Wolf. You might be living the easy life in the Villain Villa Senior Center and have the softest of all hearts in your golden years, but get invited to the library’s Annual Storybook Tea by the terrifically nice Miss Wonderly in the presence of the Gingerbread Boy, the three pigs, and other storybook characters who’ve spent their lives being terrified of you, and, well . . . you’d be a bit nervous, too, eh? “Should I go?” B.B. Wolf asked his best friend, the crocodile. “I don’t think I like tea.” “You don’t go to a tea for the tea,” replied the crocodile. “You go to a tea for the cookies.” My kind of best pal there. So, the crocodile then proceeds to give B.B. a run-down of basic etiquette rules, making a song out of it to help him remember:

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I really wanted to wrap up this picture-book-round-up-of-sidekicks post earlier (here are parts one and two), but better late than never. Let’s get right to it . . .

Oh, but first: A reminder that the list of final nominations for the Fiction Picture Books category (for which I’m organizer) of the Cybils 2007 is posted at the Cybils blog. They are here — 117 titles total. Whoa. That’s a lot of reading for us nominating committee panelists, but we’re up to the task. And attached above is a new Cybils widget, courtesy of Tracy Grand at JacketFlap. If I can get my 7-Imp tech support husband to show me how to add this to our sidebar, which is really where that belongs, I’ll do so later. For now, notice that if you refresh the page, a new title shows up. Excellent.

Okay, back to sidekicks then:

I really love this title, one of my favorites from this year. The publisher will tell you it’s “a story for true friends and wondrous dreamers,” and they’re right. Blast it, it even makes me tear up a bit in the end, wrapping the story up as it does on such an imaginative, hopeful note. Amy and Louie are best friends. And I mean, they’re tight, y’all; Gleeson knows how to capture the true intensity of childhood friendships. In fact, no one is really sidekick to the other; I suppose I’m stretching a bit by putting this in the sidekicks category, but oh well. Amy and Louie even have special calls for one another when they’re ready to play but not yet paired up for the day, ready to use their wild imaginations: “Coo-ee, Am-ee!” and “Coo-ee, Lou-ee!”. Read the rest of this entry �