{"id":5398,"date":"2021-08-08T00:01:32","date_gmt":"2021-08-08T06:01:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=5398"},"modified":"2021-08-08T07:42:26","modified_gmt":"2021-08-08T13:42:26","slug":"7-imps-7-kicks-755-featuring-aaron-becker","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=5398","title":{"rendered":"7-Imp\u2019s 7 Kicks #755: Featuring Aaron Becker"},"content":{"rendered":"

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“A tree stood steel-straight and proud at the foot of the towers that filled its sky.
It grew, mostly unnoticed, silently marking the seasons.”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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\nWe will soon mark the 20th anniversary of 9\/11. It’s hard to believe. Children’s literature will acknowledge this with more than one book (more soon here at 7-Imp about one such picture book from author-illustrator Sean Rubin<\/a><\/strong>, which was released in May), and today I have one from author Marcie Colleen<\/a><\/strong> and illustrator Aaron Becker<\/a><\/strong>. Survivor Tree<\/a><\/em><\/strong> (Little, Brown) will be on shelves this month. <\/p>\n

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As does Rubin’s book, Survivor Tree<\/em> shines its light on the Callery pear tree that once stood near the Twin Towers (see spread above); was found “crushed and burned” under the rubble after the attacks (“the last living thing pulled from the rubble,” as the author puts in a closing note); was moved to the Arther Ross Nursery in the Bronx on November 11, 2001, with little hope it would survive; and was sent back to near where the Towers once stood after it finally recuperated. <\/p>\n

Colleen’s text captures with a spare lyricism the way in which the growing tree changes, pre-9\/11, in response to the seasons. One particular spread, pictured below, plays with this in an elegant yet chilling way, a briliant design choice that captures the moment before one of the planes hit the first Tower.
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“Fall.”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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\nWith reverence, Colleen communicates the grief and shock of the attacks, as seen through the effects it had on this tree, which becomes “a shattered stump” that is moved to a place with “a different sky.” Her measured pacing is perfect as we see the tree, in its new home with two stone blocks placed next to it (“a memorial of makeshift towers in a makeshift home”), quietly recover \u2014 just as many Americans attempted to do. <\/p>\n

Becker’s watercolor and colored pencils illustrations truly extend the text with a visual story line about one particular family, whose lives were radically altered by the attacks. He also works wonders with leaves; pay close attention to them throughout the book. Given that Colleen describes the tree in autumn as blazing “red with a million hearts” (capturing the shape and color of the leaves), Becker uses this heart\/leaf motif throughout the book and also communicates much emotion with this deep red hue. I love to see what Becker communicates in merely the shadows: When we see in Spring that a bird has built a nest in the tree, while healing away from the Towers, we don’t see the mama bird \u2014 but do see her shadow on the book’s verso in a spread that gracefully captures the shift from Winter to Spring. <\/p>\n

This isn’t a text that delves into the reasons for the attack; this is not even covered in the book’s closing notes, Colleen explaining that she was teaching on September 11, 2001, and felt unable to tell her high schoolers at the time why<\/em> this had occurred. She adds, however, that telling the tree’s story may serve as a springboard for conversation:<\/p>\n

“I hope readers and their caregivers will find an entry point to a topic that is difficult to comprehend. I still do not have all the answers to the questions my students asked twenty years ago. But this book is what I can give them, and anyone seeking a more hopeful, colorful world.”<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Here are some more spreads. …
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“Then one day … Buds to blossoms. Blossoms to leaves. Though charred and gnarled,
the tree began to grow. And so it went for almost ten years.
White, green, red, bare. Spring, summer, fall …”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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“The tree hesitated to fill the empty sky. People no longer rushed by.
Instead, they stopped and wept beside two forever-filling pools.”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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\nTHE SURVIVOR TREE. Text copyright \u00a9 2021 by Marcie Colleen. Illustrations copyright \u00a9 2021 by Aaron Becker and reproduced by permission of the publisher, Little, Brown, New York.<\/em><\/p>\n

* * * Jules’s Kicks * * *<\/strong><\/font>
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Note for any new readers: 7-Imp\u2019s 7 Kicks is a weekly meeting ground for taking some time to reflect on Seven(ish) Exceptionally Fabulous, Beautiful, Interesting, Hilarious, or Otherwise Positive Noteworthy Things from the past week, whether book-related or not, that happened to you. New kickers are always welcome.<\/p>\n

1)<\/strong><\/font> The grad course I taught this summer is done, and I actually got my grading done in time. <\/p>\n

2)<\/strong><\/font> This wonderful piece<\/a><\/strong> this week from Margaret Renkl. <\/p>\n

3)<\/strong><\/font> Last week, I drove to Knoxville to surprise a former interpreting colleague, who is retiring. It was wonderful to see former colleagues and friends I hadn’t seen in SEVENTEEN years. <\/p>\n

4)<\/strong><\/font> I started Hamnet<\/a><\/strong><\/em>, and the writing is exquisite. <\/p>\n

5)<\/strong><\/font> This<\/a><\/strong> is such a bop. <\/p>\n

6)<\/strong><\/font> A much different version of a song I shared here months ago:
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