Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

— From Philip C. Stead’s The Only Fish in the Sea,
illustrated by Matthew Cordell

 


“Zaha’s designs don’t look like other designs. Her buildings
swoosh and zoom and flow and fly. ‘The world is not a rectangle.'”
— From Jeanette Winter’s The World Is Not a Rectangle:
A Portrait of Architect Zaha Hadid
(Click to enlarge spread)

 


“… Rodney was inside, but he wanted to be outside. …”
— From Carmen Bogan’s Where’s Rodney?,
illustrated by Floyd Cooper
(Click to enlarge spread)

 


“Lulu climbs the tallest trees in the neighborhood …”
— From Liz Garton Scanlon’s Another Way to Climb a Tree,
illustrated by Hadley Hooper
(Click to enlarge)

 

At Kirkus this morning, I’ve got a French picture book import. That is here.

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Last week, I wrote here about Liz Garton Scanlon’s Another Way to Climb a Tree (Neal Porter/Roaring Brook, August 2017), illustrated by Hadley Hooper; Carmen Bogan’s Where’s Rodney? (Yosemite Conservancy, August 2017), illustrated by Floyd Cooper; Philip C. Stead’s The Only Fish in the Sea (Neal Porter/Roaring Brook, August 2017), illustrated by Matthew Cordell; and Jeanette Winter’s The World Is Not a Rectangle: A Portrait of Architect Zaha Hadid (Beach Lane, August 2017).

I’ve got art from each book today — and, in some cases, some preliminary sketches.

Enjoy! Read the rest of this entry �

 
I talked to Matt Lamothe last week at Kirkus (here) about about This Is How We Do It: One Day in the Lives of Seven Kids from around the World (Chronicle, May 2017).

Today here at 7-Imp are some spreads from the book.

Until tomorrow …

Read the rest of this entry �

“I remember that morning. So different from all the other mornings: Cool. Clear.
A run-to-my-cousin’s-house-and-play-outside, windless, hopeful day …”

 
Know what I like to see, dear Imps? The artwork of Gary Kelley. (Here’s a 2014 case-in-point.) He has illustrated a new picture book, coming to shelves next month. Ruth Vander Zee’s Next Year: Hope in the Dust (Creative Editions) is a stark and stirring tribute to the horrors of the American Dust Bowl in the 1930s. But, ultimately, it’s a story of hope (as the sub-title tells us), this story of one family’s extended struggle with dust and drought and a boy who grows into adulthood, determined to preserve the land his family owned.

The author captures with precise and evocative language the before-and-after of the traumatic events of the Dust Bowl. In the opening spread, a young boy plays with his friends: “I remember that morning,” the book opens. It’s Black Sunday, April 14, 1935. It was a “windless, hopeful day.” The next spread shows the same illustration on the book’s cover. It’s a dramatic moment, “like midnight in the middle of the day.” The wordless spread following that is utter blackness, save the family’s tiny home at the bottom of the spread, engulfed in darkness. Read the rest of this entry �

“Well, things are plenty scary right here. See? A kitty drinking milk!
Maybe it’s the kind of kitty that doesn’t like hugs? That’s scary!”

 
It’s a pleasure to showcase some art and preliminary images today from Bob Shea’s The Scariest Book Ever (Disney-Hyperion, July 2017). Remember last year’s The Happiest Book Ever? Well, now it’s time to get PETRIFIED. Maybe a bit panicky . …

Or maybe not. Maybe it’s the ghost protagonist of this very funny book who is scared. He even intentionally pours some orange juice on himself so that he can disrobe and avoid heading into the scary dark woods without the reader (who sees these scary woods on the title page spread). He knows, after all, there’s a dark hole in the forest, and that “nothing good ever comes out of a dark hole!” Even when the reader is given an opportunity to tell the ghost that it’s an adorable bunny who pops out of said hole, the ghost is still wary. This interaction with the reader continues, the ghost breaking the book’s fourth wall the whole way — and young readers will be thrilled to be one-up on the protagonist, privy as they are to the happy goings-on in the forest — the bunny plans for a spooky, but ADORBS (of course), costume party. Read the rest of this entry �

 
This morning over at Kirkus, I’ve got new August picture books that celebrate creative thinkers and problem-solvers and out-of-the-box thinkers of many types. That is here.

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Last week, I wrote here about Eva Lindström’s My Dog Mouse (Gecko, August 2017), originally published in New Zealand in 2015 and translated by Julia Marshall. Today here at 7-Imp, I have some art from the book. (Some of these colors are a bit off, FYI. They’re slightly brighter than they appear in the book.)

Until Sunday …

Read the rest of this entry �

“The choice to use real children, instead of made-up characters for the book, felt like a natural way to make the experience of a different culture authentic and relatable. I remember as a kid learning about other cultures in books, and a typical page would show ‘Pierre lives in Paris and loves to eat baguettes.’ … By using real kids, not only does the reader learn about cultural specificity, but they also see that people are individuals within their culture and that they have their own unique day that may or may not line up with prevailing cultural expectations.”

* * *

Over at Kirkus today, I talk to Matt Lamothe, pictured here, about This Is How We Do It: One Day in the Lives of Seven Kids from around the World (Chronicle, May 2017).

That Q&A is here. Next week, I’ll have some art from the book here at 7-Imp.

Until tomorrow …

“So I followed them down a path and found dozens of mushrooms. The air was so damp. I knew the smell from when I was small—my grandparents’ basement.
My cave of treasures. I felt a sense that there was something special close by.
That I was surrounded.”
(Click to enlarge spread)

 
Author-illustrator Beatrice Alemagna is someone whose named has appeared often at 7-Imp over the years, given that I’ve done a whole heapin’ lot of interviews in the years I’ve been blogging, and many, many illustrators have named her as an inspiration.

Today I’m featuring her new book — well, new to U.S. readers. On a Magical Do-Nothing Day was originally published in France last year but is on American shelves now, thanks to HarperCollins. It’s the story of a girl whose day is being ravaged by some serious ennui. She and her mother visit a cabin in a forest, while the girl’s Dad stays back in the city. Who knows what is going on there and why the father isn’t with them, but the girl misses him.

It’s a rainy day, and like a lot of contemporary children, the girl is captivated by the tiny, hand-held device in her hands that allows her to play a game — specifically, one that allows her to destroy Martians. “Actually, I was just pressing the same button over and over,” Alemagna writes. Her mother, working at a laptop, growls at her and takes her electronic device and hides it. The girl finds it and heads out. It’s one of those days where an utter lack of creativity takes over, at least on the part of the girl, and she and her mother most definitely need some time away from one another.

Read the rest of this entry �

“‘Shh! There he is,’ the captain whispered.
‘Row quiet. … Row fast. … Hold steady now—‘”
(Click to enlarge spread)

 
This morning over at Kirkus, I’ve got a picture book import from New Zealand. That is here. Woof. Woof.

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Last week, I wrote here about Barbara Dacosta and Ed Young’s Mighty Moby (Little, Brown, August 2017). I’ve got a bit of art from the book today, as well as some preliminary images and a few words (below) from Barbara about the book’s creation.

Read the rest of this entry �

 
How about another import today, dear Imps? Last week we had a German one; today is one from Italy.

Professional Crocodile was originally published in Italy this year but is also seeing publication here in the States in early August (Chronicle Books). It’s a book conceived by writer and publisher Giovanna Zoboli, who is also one of the founders of the Italian children’s book publisher Topipittori, and it’s illustrated by Mariachiara Di Giorgio.

In this wordless story, readers follow a crocodile during the course of his day. The illustrations are divided into panels of various sizes, though some spreads are continuous, full-bleed ones. The crocodile dresses and behaves as if human. Di Giorgio’s dynamic city scenes will beguile readers; there’s a lot to pore over and take in, and there’s a good dose of humor in the details. At one point, when the crocodile hops on a crowded train, we see mostly humans but also a few other animals. Hmm. … Where is he heading? child readers will wonder.

He’s actually heading for the zoo. Once there, he removes his clothes in a locker room and then waltzes right into his enclosure where, on the final spread, humans gape at him through a glass partition. Read the rest of this entry �

 

This morning over at my Kirkus column, I’ve got Barbara Dacosta and Ed Young’s new picture book, Mighty Moby (Little, Brown, August 2017).

That is here.

Until Sunday …