{"id":5482,"date":"2021-12-12T00:01:47","date_gmt":"2021-12-12T06:01:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=5482"},"modified":"2021-12-11T15:36:01","modified_gmt":"2021-12-11T21:36:01","slug":"7-imps-7-kicks-773-featuring-paul-o-zelinsky","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=5482","title":{"rendered":"7-Imp\u2019s 7 Kicks #773: Featuring Paul O. Zelinsky"},"content":{"rendered":"

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“Christmas tree and menorah light \/ Red and green and blue and white
Stronger together \/ Shining bright!”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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\nSometimes you set out to write about a picture book and, before you do, you read a review of it or someone else’s thoughts on the book. And then you’re utterly ruined for articulating your thoughts, because … well, that person did such a good job. That’s how I feel about author Laurel Snyder’s recent piece at the New York Times<\/em> on Lee Wind’s<\/a><\/strong> Red and Green and Blue and White<\/a><\/strong><\/em> (Levine Querido, October 2021), illustrated by Paul O. Zelinsky<\/a><\/strong>. Laurel does a beautiful job of capturing this book’s special-ness. And she does so in such a direct way, with no word acrobatics or clich\u00e9d review-speak. (If you’re interested in reading her piece and can access it, it’s here<\/a><\/strong>.) <\/p>\n

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The book, inspired by a true story (you can read more about that here<\/a><\/strong>), starts with two children \u2014 Isaac, helping his family decorate for Chanukah, and Teresa (just across the street), helping her family decorate for Christmas. The brilliantly composed opening spread (pictured below) makes it clear that only one house in this neighborhood has decorated with the colors of Chunukah. In a short space, Wind expertly establishes the friendship between Isaac and Teresa, as well as the eagerness they both feel for the holidays (“counting down to the holidays”) that their respective families celebrate: “[Both] thought you couldn’t have too many sprinkles on a cookie.” In a series of vignettes, Zelinksky captures the two friends playing in the snow, reading holiday books, hanging out with siblings, and eating those sprinkled cookies. <\/p>\n

The tone shifts dramatically when someone in the shadows of night throws a stone through the window of Isaac’s home, and Isaac, “wide awake, watched their menorah flicker out.” As you can see below, when his mother asks if they should light the menorah again, Isaac feels like “it would be like hiding they were Jewish” if they did. <\/p>\n

So they do. And Teresa sees this and puts a drawing of a menorah in her window: “For Isaac.” Soon, people in their neighborhood and<\/em> the rest of the community do the same \u2014 all in a tremendous show of support, empathy, and community. <\/p>\n

It’s a spectacular book. Wind spins this story in a way that possesses such respect for the inner lives of children: My favorite line in the book happens when Teresa, after the stone-throwing, looks out her window, sees the menorah lit once again, and lets out “a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.” Zelinsky’s vibrant tableaux shift dramatically when the stone is thrown: The palette darkens, and smooth, calm lines make way for jagged ones. His compositions here are exquisite, and he mangages to capture so much in one spread without overwhelming the reader. In one spread alone, we see this story on the television; we see it in the paper; we see Isaac and Teresa preparing to be interviewed (Zelinsky nails their facial expressions and body language); we see the town decorating with both wreaths and menorahs; and we see people standing, hands clasped and holding drawings of menorahs, standing in a line. It’s a lot of information in one spread (also, look closely at how much information we get from the cover itself) \u2014 and, with such eloquence, Zelinsky makes it work. <\/p>\n

Here are some spreads below, though this is one you’ll want to, if at all possible, hold in your hands.
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“On a block dressed up in Red and Green,
one house shone Blue and White.”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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“Isaac wrote poems, and Teresa made art.”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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“The adults talked, and talked. ‘You’ll sleep in our room for now,’ his dad told Isaac and his sister. Isaac’s mom asked, ‘Should we light the menorah again?’ If they didn’t,
Isaac knew it would be like hiding they were Jewish. That didn’t feel right.”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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“Across the street, Teresa watched the menorahs come on, and let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She took out paper, and markers, and drew. When she was done, Teresa added two words, and put the drawing up in the window.
Through the paper, the light shone Blue and White.”<\/em>
(Click spread to enlarge)<\/center>
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\nRED AND GREEN AND BLUE AND WHITE. Text copyright \u00a9 2021 by Lee Wind. Illustrations copyright \u00a9 2021 by Paul O. Zelinsky and reproduced by permission of the publisher, Levine Querido.<\/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> Boosters for my teen daughters. Yay, science. Again.<\/p>\n

2)<\/strong><\/font> A new work opportunity. <\/p>\n

3)<\/strong><\/font> I was happy to hear that Japanese Breakfast’s<\/a><\/strong> 2021 album was chosen as #1 on NPR’s listeners’ poll<\/a><\/strong>. This one has been a bop for me this year:
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