Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

Alert: This review includes a spoiler for, of all things, A Farewell to Arms. I’m just sayin’ . . . in case you haven’t read it and want to one day.

I confess that sometimes I wonder if our humble little blog here shouldn’t be focused on solely children’s lit (since it’s such a huge part of what Eisha and I do); we would then have a sharper (but not necessarily better) focus. However, if that were the case, I wouldn’t be able to tell you how beautiful a novel like Alice McDermott’s latest is — not to mention that, as YA author L. Lee Lowe put it so nicely in one of the comment sections of our blog, “I need to read widely across all genres, and extensively in adult lit. It’s important to know the best that literature has to offer, and to learn from it. Poetry, too, is particularly important in order to see how language is being stretched to its fullest.” For shizzle, Lee (how’s that for stretching language to its fullest?). And, though McDermott — a National Book Award winner — writes prose and not poetry, this literary stretching Lowe speaks of is what McDermott does so well.

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I know, you’ve all been waiting with baited breath for this. I’m sorry I don’t have pics – I did snap a few with my cute new camera phone, but since I was trying to be surreptitious, and it is only a camera phone, I only have a handful of very small fuzzy indistinct images of people milling around drinking wine, some of whom may be famous authors and illustrators but you can’t really tell. Anyway, you’ll be glad to hear that I was able to avoid any awkward, tearful confrontations with Kate DiCamillo, and that I DID NOT EMBARRASS MYSELF IN FRONT OF ROGER SUTTON.

I did, however, manage to embarrass myself in front of James E. Ransome and Jarrett J. Krosoczka; possibly also in front of Taylor Morrison, Lois Ehlert, and Robin Smith (one of the judges/presenters), and only narrowly escaped embarassing myself in front of M.T. Anderson. Oh, and I discovered that my friends and colleagues are not so much friends-and-colleagues as they are ENABLERS.

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The two of us again . . . Here’s Part III, the finale, to our new-picture-books post (as in, those done by authors/illustrators whose names you’ll, most likely, recognize). Don’t forget the new book from the king of all wild things . . . er, I mean the king of all author/illustrators, Maurice Sendak. That is covered in another recent post. As for the following titles, they’re all ones not to miss and created by authors and illustrators whose collective talent is enough to knock your collective socks off.

Looking for a Moose by Phyllis Root and illustrated by Randy Cecil — Phyllis Root is one of my favorite children’s book authors (Jules talkin’ here); she possesses such staggering talent that I don’t know how she can keep from falling over when standing. In this new title, she showcases her gifted talents for wordplay, and she writes with a rollicking rhythm that flows right off the tongue: “We scrape through the bushes scritch scratch! scritch scratch! the brambly-ambly, bunchy-scrunchy, scrubby-shrubby bushes.” Read the rest of this entry »

*{Note: Head on over to A Chair, A Fireplace and a Tea Cozy for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Hi there. Jules and Eisha here again . . .

There’s, apparently, this tradition in some parts of the world of blogging-about-books in which poetry is shared and celebrated every week on Friday. And in the world of blogging-about-children’s-books, in particular, this not only occurs but also some of the authors of some of our favorite blogs — including Big A little a — do a nice round-up of the poetry selected for that week (we mention her, in particular, as a way to thank her as well for answering our questions about Poetry Friday). Eisha and I have always been big ‘ol poetry geeks. I mean, reeeally. We used to leave random literature excerpts in one another’s campus mailboxes in college (back in The Day before this new-fangled thing we call electronic mail), calling it our Literature Exchange — favorite passages from our favorite novels, maybe even play excerpts, even kickin’ song lyrics, but most of the time, poetry. Not our original creations, mind you, but hand-copies of our favorites, left for one another to brighten a day or at least make it a bit more thought-provoking, a Dylan Thomas here and a Rilke there (I still have my handwritten poems from Eisha. Aw!). So, we have decided to join the Poetry Friday fun. This means: a poem, a review of a poetry anthology, and/or some such poetry-related thing — each Friday (if we’re organized enough). Woo hoo! Share the news with your part of the world!

Jules: I have the honor (thanks to Eisha) of picking the poem for our first Poetry Friday entry . . . Read the rest of this entry »

One of the coolest things about doing what I do, where I do it, is that I occasionally get to see real, live, awesome authors and illustrators in person. One such time is the Boston Globe-Hornbook Awards ceremony at the lovely Boston Atheneum, to which all Boston-area children’s librarians are invited every October (at least, I think that’s the deal – maybe we just get invited because our Head of Children’s Services has been on the selection committee in years past… I should investigate). I’ll be attending this evening, along with a few of my fellow child-libs from the other branches. This year, I’m not just going to listen to the speeches and then try to accumulate as many autographed books as possible – I have some very specific goals in mind:

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If you read Mark Haddon’s best-selling novel from 2003, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, then you already know about Haddon’s dark, wry humor; the sharp way he can turn a phrase and, in just those few words, create deep empathy for a character; his keen, accurate observations on human nature (and all its foibles) and his bitingly honest and perceptive take on family relationships; and his ability to make you laugh out loud at one moment and then tear up the next with a moment of genuine poignancy. In his latest novel, just published,
A Spot of Bother, he’s at it again — this time, putting the “funk” in dysfunctional (as Robin Williams would say) — with his spot-on portrayal of one messed-up family. And, though the subject matter sounds bleak, it’s one addictive and delectable read.

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I know the official first day of Fall was weeks ago, but October’s here, and — no matter what part of the country you live in — leaves are starting to change color or at least thinking about it. It’s just delicious, isn’t it? Who doesn’t love October? (a rhetorical question, but, hey, if someone wants to contest it, knock yourself out). In fact, I can’t help but always think of my blog-partner-in-crime’s husband when October boldly strolls in, as it’s his favorite month (hello to Brionysus, if he’s reading).

Lois Ehlert’s The Leaf Man was published last year but made a big splash in June of this year by winning a 2006 Boston Globe–Horn Book Award. So, for that reason and because it’s a clever, wonderful book and in honor of Autumn, which is on the verge of being all ablaze and aflame with its resplendence, I’m giving this pleasing picture book a huge shout-out.

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… and he’s as awesome as ever, supplying his visual magic to Carole Boston Weatherford’s poignant text in the new picture book biography, Moses: When Harriet Tubman Led Her People to Freedom.

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Oh, it’s too hard. “Fisherman’s Blues,” anyone? Ah, that takes me back . . .

Anyway, ever heard of the changeling myth? You know you have. And not just when the goblins come and take Ida’s sister away, leaving an ice baby in her place (o yes, I can work Sendak into any review). A changeling is a fairy or hobgoblin who steals into your home, whisks away your young child, and changes place with him or her. It’s an eons-old folk myth, perhaps most famously put to use in W.B. Yeats’ poem (and subsequently, for nerds like me, put to song by the aforementioned Waterboys way, way back in 1988 when I was but a wee sophomore in high school). In Keith Donohue’s The Stolen Child, published this year, this myth is put to great creative use.

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O yes, it’s here! It’s here! There was a knock on my door this morning, I saw through the window a mail man walk away back to his mail-mobile, and there on my doorstep was the new Sendak title, Mommy?! Joy o joy, and my heart did a little jig or two.

And I’m here to tell ya it is well worth the wait. I think I’ve made it clear (more than once, actually) that Sendak is the object of my literary hero worship, so you may not be surprised that I. am. in. love. with. this. book . . . Happily, I must add, my two-and-a-half-year old loved it, too. This one got the “again! again!” verbal seal of approval after I initially closed its pages.

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