Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

I love G. Brian Karas’ work as an illustrator, his relaxed lines and the warmth and humor that seeps from his work with his signature sketchy style. I always look forward to seeing his new titles. Here’s a short post about two of his illustrated titles from this year that I’ve been wanting to write about for what seems like forever now. (Karas also illustrated the just-released How Many Seeds in a Pumpkin? by Margaret McNamara — Random House, July 2007. Review to come) . . . And if you’re a fan of Karas as I am, well, we at 7-Imp might just have a treat for you a couple weeks from now.

Mr. McGreely and those three little bunnies are back (having debuted in Muncha! Muncha! Muncha! in 2002). McGreely is looking forward to a peaceful winter, but those bunnies are determined to get inside: “‘Ah,’ he sighed. ‘Time to snuggle in for winter.’ But . . . Tippy-tippy-tippy, pat. Knocka-knocka-knocka.” Yup, here they come. And, even though he slams the door in their wee bunny faces, nails the mail slot shut, plugs the chimney up, boards up all the windows, and bricks in both his doors (he’s mad, I tell ya), you can’t keep those bunnies out. Well, maybe just a little. And, well, you’ll just have to let the plot unfold for you when you read it, but I will say that Fleming brings things full-circle with a pleasing “Muncha, muncha, muncha!” to close out the book.

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Blog break, schmlog break. Here are two books I’ve been meaning to talk about for forever now, both illustrated by Steve Jenkins, who is some kind of talented and a favorite of mine and a favorite of my children. (I mean, does it get any better than Actual Size?) . . .

I’ve been sittin’ on this wonderful anthology of poetry by the late Valerie Worth for the longest possible time now (thank you, Nashville Public Library, for your loooong circulation periods), enjoying it and trying to find some time to tell you about it.

Now, I know I’m all the dang time shoo’ing you over to David’s reviews at the excelsior file (obviously, I respect his reviews), so you may not be surprised that I’m going to quote him again. In his review of this title, he wrote, “It’s so nice to pick up a book of poetry for young readers that doesn’t condescend to the notion that young readers need poems that rhyme.” Hallelujah, I say. My thoughts exactly when I read these detailed, vivid poems about animals. There’s not a bad poem in here, each one pithy and precise, covering a wide range of animals from the camel to the cockroach and bringing each forth in a new light, sometimes even providing commentary on the way we, as humans, live. Here’s an excerpt from her poem about the cockroach, one that speaks near and dear to my fears (I truly am starting to believe I have a phobia): Read the rest of this entry �

Yes, dramatic post title there, but I got your attention, didn’t I?

Perhaps, for all I know, none of our readers remember this, but I hardly forget promises to myself: I vowed to read and review as many picture books as I could this year. And, believe me, I’ve been reading them, but I’m so dreadfully behind on reviewing them. I have finally come to accept that I can’t review these titles in the manner in which I normally review picture books (rambly like this or round-uppety and rambly like this). Yes, my favorite kidlitosphere reviewers are really detailed (that’s one reason, I’m sure, that Fuse is a kidlitosphere superstah; I mean, her reviews are fabulously thorough). But, in order to get to these leaning stacks of picture books at all, I’m just going to have to try my best to be short and pithy. Or, wait, as Yoda said, “Do… or do not. There is no try.”

So, short it will be. Which is why I’m going to die a little bit inside. And there might even be another post like this (hanging my head in shame) in an effort to get caught up.

But at least it might actually work — I might be able to move past these stacks and start anew on more picture book titles coming to me, since I’m still determined to keep up with new titles and reviews.

Here goes nothin’:

To not give this one a detailed review might make me die inside the most, but enough of that . . . The text in this one is nothing to sneeze at, to say the least, but you really will want to see this one for Isadora’s colorful, dyamic oil and collage illustrations (including clever use of newsprint). Collage seems so popular now, but Isadora really does it up right. If collage illustrations were my thing, I’d be afraid to look at this book, lest it put me to shame. Let’s put it that way. This one’s about a young African-American boy named Jomar who lives in an urban neighborhood (Isadora not holding back on things like litter and graffiti but counterbalancing it with the warmth of the neighborhood in her bold, bright color choices) and greets his multicultural neighbors and friends with hip-hop slang, such as “S’up!”, “Faboo!”, “Def!”, “Check out the B-boy!”, and “Off the heazy!” There’s some high-fivin’, hand-slappin’, music-jammin’, roller-blading, and ball playing, all simply showing the camaraderie that exists in this boy’s neighborhood, as he waits for his Grandpa to show. And, when he does, he hints that he’d like Jomar to speak to him in a more conventional manner, to which the boy replies “I love you, Grandpa.” (Yet, then the grandfather turns to Jomar’s older brother to say, “Yo, Frankin, you chillin’ with us?” in an effective, wink-wink ending). The book, a perfect preschool read-aloud, bounces with energy, and Jo brings to mind a contemporary Peter à la Ezra Jack Keats’ world. Perfection this one is (if I’ve used an image of Yoda, I have to — at the very least — try to talk like him).

So, how am I doin’? That one was too long. Okay, I’ll do better. Read the rest of this entry �

Jules here. Eisha’s blog vacation has officially begun, as she makes her Big Move to New York. Best of luck to her. I’m here this week, and next week when Eisha returns, I’ll take a bit of a break myself. I don’t have a Big Move planned, but boy howdy does my wrist need a break from too much typing, and my to-be-read piles are about to smother me (not a bad problem to have, though). So, I’ll enjoy having time to get caught up.

Now for today’s post: Emily at …whimsy… has taken the bull by its horns and created her very own important day, entitled Tell-An-Author-You-Care Day (go read that post, because it involves the interesting story behind what gave Emily this idea to begin with). Hmm, not a bad idea, huh? Here’s what Emily suggests we do (any or all of the following) on this day:

“1). Write a letter or email to a favorite author. I think JK Rowling and Stephenie Meyer receive plenty of fan letters. Think of an author you love that may need a little boost.

2). Write a positive review on Amazon and, if you want to, link to it in your blog.

3). Buy a book by a favorite author and give it to someone who will enjoy it.

4). Profile an author in your blog. I’m not talking just another review. Tell us a little about the author and mention at least one of his/her books that you love.”

I’m choosing an author/illustrator, the creator of my favorite picture book thus far this year, Jeremy Tankard, O Bringer To Us of Grumpy Bird. Yes, even though this year we’ve seen:

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Thus begins Jeanette Winter’s latest picture book, an affectionate story about one immigrant girl’s acceptance of change and struggle to belong in a new country. The young girl and her mama have moved from Jamaica to New York, and she’s having trouble feeling like she is at home. Nightly, she dreams of her “island in the sun” and dreams that a plane takes her back to her Jamaica: “I don’t want to wake up and leave my sunny dreams.” Her persistent mother repeatedly tells her, “we are home, Angelina.” She continues, though, to long for her island food (mangos, breadfruit, ackee, salt fish, and much more); the warm sand at her feet and the blue sky, as opposed to the tall skyscrapers that cover the sun; the dust and dirt of the roads she walked in bare feet toward school, as opposed to the bus that now takes her to school down busy, congested roads; the brightly-colored birds of Jamaica; her grandma (“I talk to her in my dreams”); the games of Jamaica; and, perhaps best of all, dancing at Carnival with her friends. Read the rest of this entry �

They’re back! Isn’t it great to see Kate and her family again? God, I missed them and their laid back, earring-wearin’, music-magazine-readin’, tattoo-sportin’ lifestyle. And, yes, of course we get to see Dave and Rosy again. It’s eight months after their release from the Rescue Center, and they’re comfy and happy in their new home. Rosy’s running the show, taking over the couch, just generally kicking back and enjoying the life of a dog. But Dave? He’s “small and wild. He slipped and he slid; he leaped and he skittered. He was take-me-as-you-find-me, don’t-care Dave,” exuberant and joyful and excited and “full of the joys of spring!” — but still needing “a firmer hand,” says Mom one day. After calling Pup Breakers (“We can take the pounce from your pup, the bounce from your bunny, or the squawk from your caged bird,” says the ad in the phone book), the Brigadier shows up at their home, even making the nearby birds twitter nervously. His commands to Dave are firm and loud, and he even brings a slip chain, being sure to instruct the family in “short, sharp jerks” on it. A change comes over Dave, days after this training; he’s “lost his sparkle . . . his crackle and fizz.” But, the next day, the Brigadier softens a bit after Dave runs to him, as if happy to see him, Kate thinking she actually spots a smile underneath this stoic man’s mustache. And then, in a spot-on funny and tenderly-rendered and perfectly child-centered moment, Kate tells the Brigadier, who’s stayed for dinner, that Dave doesn’t need lessons anymore:

“And why is that, young Kate?”

“Because . . .” Kate whispered, “because I think shouting hurts Dave’s feelings and we should always be polite to our dogs.”

There was silence.

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Hey, let’s take an interview break and talk about an actual picture book (though we are having fun this week focusing on YA lit). Don’t forget the little post below this one, which highlights today’s SBBT schedule, and don’t miss all the great interviews.

So, there’s this boy named Henry who loves to eat books. It all starts one day when he wasn’t paying attention (actually, of all things, he’s got his head turned away from his afternoon snack to watch his cat take a dump, to be blunt about it). Instead of licking the popsicle in his hands, he licks a phone book.

Mmmm, phone books.

He then gets hooked on books, saying “I don’t think so” to that whole Just Say No concept — he eats a single word, then a whole sentence, then an entire book. “And by the end of the month he could eat a whole book in one go” (there he is on stage, the double page spread shows us, performing for a happy crowd as The Incredible Book-Eating Boy). And he’s not a picky eater — he devours storybooks, dictionaries, atlases, joke books, and books of facts, having devised a yummy concoction in the blender. To top things off, he got smarter with each book read. With dreams of becoming the smartest person on earth, he keeps eating books but then finds himself feeling ill. Worst of all, “{e}verything he was learning was getting mixed up.”

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{Note: Today’s Poetry Friday round-up is over here at The Simple and the Ordinary}.

STAR, STAR, STAR. I’m giving this book a huge STAR! I. love. this. anthology (and my goodness, isn’t Jane Yolen prolific? I know we all know this, but the amount of good books this woman churns out amazes me so much that I have to mention it again). Here we have a first book of poetry for the wee-est of children, the poems having been collected by Yolen and the very tall poet Andrew Fusek Peters. And the anthology is graced with illustrations by POLLY DUNBAR, one of my favorites (who has one of the best illustrator websites EVER). Yes, I’m yelling a lot here, ’cause I’m tellin’ ya, this is one very handsome and entertaining book that works on every single level — completely engaging poetry for young children, excellent design, and Dunbar’s captivating, exuberant illustrations. There are over sixty poems here, including poetry from Langston Hughes, Lilian Moore, Lee Bennett Hopkins, Gertrude Stein, Jack Prelutsky, Michael Rosen (the latest and fifth British children’s laureate; thanks to Big A little a for the link), Robert Louis Stevenson, Rosemary Wells, Myra Cohn Livingston, and much more (including poetry from our compilers and a traditional British street rhyme thrown in for good measure). Read the rest of this entry �

{Note: Today’s Poetry Friday round-up is over here at HipWriterMama}.

What a lovely surprise! Yesterday I received a gift from friend and former Cybils Poetry Nominating committee member Elaine of Wild Rose Reader. It’s a signed copy of Twist: Yoga Poems by Janet S. Wong, illustrated by Julie Paschkis. How sweet is that?

If you haven’t already perused this lovely little title, you need to treat yourself. Each brief free-verse poem is inspired by a specific yoga pose, and uses child-friendly imagery to link the name of the pose to the body movement. “Cobra,” for example, “pushes… up from damp soil. / She lifts herself higher, / to dry out her heart.” It’s a great concept, and I think a child who is beginning to learn yoga would enjoy Wong’s ability to personify the poses.

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As you probably know, the 2007 Boston Globe–Horn Book Awards for Excellence in Children’s Literature were announced this week. We were pleased to see the list of winners and honor recipients and were in happy agreement.

Fiction and Poetry Winners:

* The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Volume I: The Pox Party (Candlewick) by M. T. Anderson — co-reviewed here at 7-Imp (followed by our recent-ish interview with Anderson)

Picture Book Winners:

Fiction — * Dog and Bear: Two Friends, Three Stories (Porter/Roaring Brook) written and illustrated by Laura Vaccaro Seeger — reviewed here by Jules

Nonfiction — * The Strongest Man in the World: Louis Cyr (Groundwood) written and illustrated by Nicolas Debon Read the rest of this entry �