{"id":1468,"date":"2008-10-20T20:01:28","date_gmt":"2008-10-21T02:01:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=1468"},"modified":"2014-12-14T10:02:22","modified_gmt":"2014-12-14T16:02:22","slug":"seven-questions-over-breakfast-with-sergio-ruzzier","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=1468","title":{"rendered":"Seven Questions Over Breakfast with Sergio Ruzzier"},"content":{"rendered":"

Author\/illustrator and editorial illustrator Sergio Ruzzier<\/strong><\/a> is here for breakfast this morning, and I greet him with my best, though certainly Appalachian-twinged, “Ciao!” You can spot a Ruzzier-illustrated title from here to Milan, where he was born, and back again, what with his wry humor and the delicate pen-and-ink lines of his intimate, subdued watercolors. And talk about an illustrator extending the text of a picture book written by someone else: Anyone else remember Emily Jenkins’<\/strong><\/a> Love You When You Whine<\/em> from ’06? Back then, Esme Raji Codell aptly called it<\/strong><\/a> a “very subversive look at the parent-child exchange…The great charm of this book is that page after dastardly and unrelentingly recognizable page, for all of the antics and subsequent parental pain so cheerfully and colorfully described and indicated, we have not a moment’s doubt that this mother is telling the truth.” Anyway, yes, back to Ruzzier’s extension of the text through his very whimsical watercolors: “Love you when you pour cereal on the floor” becomes the feline protagonist covering the floor with piles and piles of cereal; “Love you when you interrupt” becomes the cat yanking out the phone cord from the wall as her mother’s talking on it; and here’s what “Love you when you hit someone” became in Ruzzier’s world: <\/p>\n

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I still say, if you’re going to select a love-you-forever-type parent\/child book, you can’t go wrong with the honesty and humor in this one. “In the brave tradition of Lore Segal and Tomi Ungerer, this…, for all of the naughtiness, is the mark of a truly fine and honest ‘mommy mommy’ book,” continued Esme. <\/p>\n

Sergio’s other books exhibit this same truth-telling, wonderfully-askew humor, and rather quiet whimsy, and he never once condescends to child readers. His latest, Amandina<\/strong><\/a><\/em> (Roaring Brook Press), tells the tale of one terrifically talented pup. Amandina Goldeneyes dances, sings, acts, and performs acrobatics, but no one knows this. And that’s because she is painfully shy. Still, forging ahead, she decides to rent an old theater and give her best performance—from building the sets to creating the costumes—and she invites everyone in town. When the curtains open and Amandina sees no one there, she performs anyway. And…well, I won’t reveal the ending so that this lovely tale will unfold for you when you find your own copy, which I highly recommend. Publishers Weekly<\/em> wrote:<\/p>\n

Ruzzier…creates a haunting intimacy with his watercolors of a centuries-old Italian town (the theater is a tiny Umbrian jewel) and its strangely human-eyed animal citizens, as well as his unvarnished language (“Nobody had come. Sometimes these things happen, and nobody can say why”). Showing a magical insight into the imagination of small children, he allows Amandina an intense sweep of feeling before granting her no less-but no more-than her wish. The mood he casts will resonate, particularly with introspective readers.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

And Betsy Bird wrote in her September review<\/strong><\/a>, “If you’ve never read one of {Ruzzier’s} books before, this is an ideal place to start,” adding “{c}harm is impossible to teach, ridiculously hard to learn on your own, and money in the bank. Amandina<\/em> also happens to have it in spades (doggy puns unintended). I don’t go for the whole ‘be yourself’ motto unless you can sell the idea to me in a beautiful tale. Sergio Ruzzier has done just that.” <\/p>\n

Here’s the one and only heroine, showing us her many talents:<\/p>\n


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I’m so pleased Sergio has stopped by to chat and let me ask him seven questions (plus some) over breakfast. (Pictured here is one of his line drawings from Moon, Have You Met My Mother?<\/strong><\/a><\/em> by Karla Kuskin, Laura Geringer Books, 2003.) When I asked him about his breakfast-of-choice this morning, he responded, “in general I like to change every time. A constant is sweetness, though.<\/font> It\u2019s difficult for me to start the day with something that is not sweet. When I still lived in Italy, I liked to have breakfast standing at the bar, with cappuccino and a custard-filled croissant (which in Milan for some reason we call \u201cbrioche\u201d alla crema<\/em>.) Here in New York, I got used to donuts, scones, and muffins. Good and correctly-spelled cappuccino is hard to find, so I\u2019ve settled for coffee with milk and sugar.” I vote for the standing-at-the-bar breakfast in Italy, complete with the correctly-spelled cappuccino. Having experienced this kind of breakfast myself for a bit on a honeymoon visit to Italy, I understand this reverence he has for this particular meal. So, cappuccinos it will be! Let’s get the basics while we set the table here — er, I mean while we stand at the bar and wait on our order . . .<\/p>\n


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Illustration from<\/em> More Mole Stories and Little Gopher, Too<\/strong><\/a> by Lore Segal,
Frances Foster Books\/FSG, 2005.<\/em><\/center><\/p>\n

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7-Imp<\/font><\/strong>: Are you an illustrator or author\/illustrator?<\/font><\/p>\n

Sergio<\/font><\/strong>: Both. <\/p>\n

7-Imp<\/font><\/strong>: Can you list your books-to-date?<\/font><\/p>\n

Sergio<\/font><\/strong>: <\/p>\n