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“Stitches” is a dark, dark fairytale that happens to be the true story of the author's childhood and coming of age. Marketed for young adults, the book left thoroughly grown-up me with my jaw agape.
Small grew up in Detroit in the 1950s, his father a...more
“Stitches” is a dark, dark fairytale that happens to be the true story of the author's childhood and coming of age. Marketed for young adults, the book left thoroughly grown-up me with my jaw agape.
Small grew up in Detroit in the 1950s, his father a radiologist and his mother the proverbial angry housewife, tight-lipped and more concerned about saving money than her two sons. Nobody in the house spoke much, but Dad spent a lot of time hitting a punching bag in the basement, his brother banging his drum-set, and Mom slamming cupboard doors.
David alone was quiet and, in a truth-is-stranger-than-fiction development, comes down with throat cancer that requires surgery that renders him literally speechless. Then – life layering on the symbolism -- it turned out the cancer was caused by radiation administered by his father to cure breathing troubles.
David’s upbringing seems to take place in a house of horrors; his grandmother even goes murderously crazy. This atmosphere is heightened by the way David depicts his parents, always wearing mad-scientist glasses that seem to obscure both their eyes and their humanity.
I usually find both dream sequences and therapy sessions trite in either movies or novels, but Small uses both to unique effect. He depicts his rather stern analyst as Alice’s White Rabbit. And when the Rabbit delivers his zinger insight, I cried for two solid pages.
This is a sophisticated book with sophisticated themes including insanity and sexual repression. For teens and adults, it’s also an inspiring story about resilience and forgiveness. In the end, Small writes, it was art that gave him everything he had wanted or needed.(less)
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" It’s been so long since I was head-over-heels for a children’s novel that I was beginning to think the problem wasn’t the books but me becoming old an...more
It’s been so long since I was head-over-heels for a children’s novel that I was beginning to think the problem wasn’t the books but me becoming old and bitter.
Then I read “Summer on the Moon” and – what a relief! It turns out I’m fine, and the books were the problem after all.
The opening of “Summer on the Moon” illustrates its high originality, grit and authenticity. Just released for the summer, middle schoolers Socko (short for Socrates) and Damien come home to their seedy Florida apartment building and avail themselves of their “personal amusement park ride,” an ancient elevator, which they call The Hurtler.
To play, you ride to the top and punch all the buttons, which makes the elevator malfunction and drop-drop-drop until – just as death seems imminent – you hit the “open door” button, causing the elevator to brake with a heart-wrenching jerk.
I don’t know if it’s possible to use an elevator this way or not (readers, please don’t try this at home!) but Fogelin depicts The Hurtler convincingly just as she does the cockroaches, gang members, and drug-addled parents that inhabit Damien and Socko’s grim and dangerous world.
But then a near miracle occurs. Socko’s widowed, disabled grandfather offers to buy him and his mom a house if in exchange they will take him in and take care of him. Mom, who works at a fast-food joint, jumps at the chance, and soon the family leaves Damien behind and moves into a beautiful new house in Moon Ridge Estates, a gated subdivision where all the other houses are vacant.
In a nice, timely touch, Moon Ridge Estates is bankrupt, and the developer, nearly bankrupt himself, moves in with his family across the street. The family includes an attractive formerly rich girl Socko’s age, Livvy.
No surprise that Socko feels a romantic attraction – his first – to Livvy, or that Socko’s grandfather turns out to be a curmudgeon with a heart of gold. What distinguishes the book for me is the authenticity of the detail as well as Fogelin’s effective use of hard-working metaphors that further the plot and also make sense in the context of Socko’s world.
Besides The Hurtler, there’s the moonscape that is Moon Ridge Estates. Pivotal plot points take place in an empty swimming pool and the unfinished skeleton of a house.
The emotional heart of the book is not Socko’s relationship with Livvy but his distress at leaving Damien to fend for himself in the mean streets of the old hood. At the end of the book (SPOILER ALERT!!!), there is plenty of “happily ever after,” but Damien’s fate is left unresolved – another nice touch.
“Summer on the Moon” is timely and literary and deals with serious social issues, but it’s also a total page-turner and at times very funny. I can’t recommend it highly enough. Newbery Committee members – are you listening?(less)
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“Tales from Outer Suburbia” by Australian author-illustrator Shaun Tan is a collection of 15 hard-to-characterize pieces, including a faux found poem and step-by-step instructions for assembling your own pet from “burnt-out kitchen appliances, obsole...more
“Tales from Outer Suburbia” by Australian author-illustrator Shaun Tan is a collection of 15 hard-to-characterize pieces, including a faux found poem and step-by-step instructions for assembling your own pet from “burnt-out kitchen appliances, obsolete computer parts, defunct cassette players… whatever takes your fancy.” Tan is this year’s winner of the prestigious Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award for Outstanding Contribution to Children’s Literature. While “Tales” is marketed for young adults, I can imagine children who appreciate “The Stinky Cheese Man” or Arnold Lobel’s “Fables” getting a mind-expanding kick out of these stories, too. Well-known as a graphic novelist and maker of animated films, Tan sometimes counts on illustrations to carry the narrative. For example, in “Eric,” a tiny, pointy-headed foreign exchange student comes to live with the narrator’s family. Rather than staying in the newly repainted guest room, Eric elects to bed down in a teacup in the pantry – a decision the narrator’s mother speculates “must be a cultural thing.” The narrator’s family does their best to show Eric a good time, but Eric is so polite it’s hard to know if he is enjoying himself. When Eric leaves abruptly – the illustration shows him riding a breeze-born leaf out the window – the family is left with an uncomfortable lack of closure until… Wow! The final full-bleed spread epitomizes the adage about the relative value of pictures and words. It should be obvious from the quotations that Tan’s prose is as evocative and unexpectedly beautiful as his drawing. My least favorite story in the book is “Alert but not Alarmed” owing to a too-pat moral. However, the terrific opening line begs to be quoted: “It’s funny how these days, when every household has its own intercontinental ballistic missile, you hardly even think about them.” Some of Tan’s pastel and pencil illustrations have the look of Japanese woodblock prints while others display the geometric strength of Wayne Thiebaud’s metropolitan landscapes. Into these scenes Tan often introduces wispy, fragile-looking characters like Eric the exchange student, or like the thistle-headed wraiths of “Stick Figures,” who are “not a problem, just another part of the suburban landscape, their brittle legs moving as slowly as clouds.” More solid is the central figure in my favorite story, “Broken Toys,” an apparent crazy person wearing a deep-sea diving suit who first appears “over there by the underpass, feeling his way along the graffiti-covered wall.” Like the book as a whole, “Broken Toys” has an ending that’s surprising, happy and strange all at once.(less)
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Born in 1929, Russell Freedman is the master of old-school historical writing. The Newbery Medal is rarely given to nonfiction, but he won it for his biography of Lincoln in 1988.
Freedman’s books are illustrated with engravings, paintings and maps–...more
Born in 1929, Russell Freedman is the master of old-school historical writing. The Newbery Medal is rarely given to nonfiction, but he won it for his biography of Lincoln in 1988.
Freedman’s books are illustrated with engravings, paintings and maps– nothing cute or quirky, nary a cartoon balloon in sight. Reading his latest, “Lafayette and the American Revolution,” I imagined narration by James Earl Jones.
Freedman opens with a grabber chapter that describes an aristocratic mystery man’s secret rendezvous in a gardener’s house in a French village. The man, all of 19 years of age, is Gilbert de Lafayette, and he’s meeting with emissaries of 13 rebellious colonies who hope to enlist him to cross the Atlantic and fight for the great ideal of freedom.
How cool is that?
Freedman then backtracks to Lafayette’s isolated childhood in a chateau on a hill, his adolescence wearing embroidered coats, stockings and buckled shoes at the court of Louis XVI, and his dreams of a military career, thwarted by peacetime.
With minimal military experience, he seems an unlikely hero when he finally sails for America in 1777, meets General Washington, and spends the winter with the troops at Valley Forge. Even more unlikely for someone raised in luxury, it’s Lafayette’s grit, humility, and willingness to suffer the deprivations of a soldier that distinguish him as he learns the ropes.
You couldn’t honestly ask for a more romantic or heroic story – a young man defying king and family to fulfill what he believes to be his destiny – and darned if he isn’t right. As Freedman puts it toward the end of the book:
[Lafayette] had sailed to America as a teenager in pursuit of military glory and had learned what it is like to fight a war…. Tested in battle, bonded to his troops, he had proved his courage. In working for personal acclaim he had come to worship the ideals that would guide him for the rest of his life.(less)
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A Newbery an honor book this year is “Breaking Stalin’s Nose” by Eugene Velchin. Growing up in Moscow, 10-year-old Sasha reveres the great leader and teacher, Joseph Stalin, and wants only to be a Young Pioneer of the Communist Party. Then the Secret...more
A Newbery an honor book this year is “Breaking Stalin’s Nose” by Eugene Velchin. Growing up in Moscow, 10-year-old Sasha reveres the great leader and teacher, Joseph Stalin, and wants only to be a Young Pioneer of the Communist Party. Then the Secret Police come and take away his dad, throwing his aspirations and his world into chaos.
This book is unique – a look into life under a historic, totalitarian regime written for children as young as eight. It would be an excellent read-aloud for a parent and child to discuss. It also includes an author’s note about his own experience growing up in the Soviet Union in the 1960s. Velchin’s surreal black-and-white illustrations underline the scary political atmosphere.
And note to publisher Henry Holt: Love the small trim size and the cover art! So appealing!(less)
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“A Ball for Daisy” is a perfect dog-meets-ball story told in squiggly, brilliant, primary hues. It is beautiful, and it is absolutely packed with every extreme of canine emotion: jubilation, desolation, resignation, and back again.
And hey – what’s t...more
“A Ball for Daisy” is a perfect dog-meets-ball story told in squiggly, brilliant, primary hues. It is beautiful, and it is absolutely packed with every extreme of canine emotion: jubilation, desolation, resignation, and back again.
And hey – what’s this? Could these also be the extremes of young human emotion?
An American child exposed to books probably falls asleep with a clean pillow, a roof to keep the rain out, and food in her belly. In the scheme of things, this is a lucky child, and a child whose world is limited. But among the things to which she can relate is a pet – in this case an irresistibly cute and furry white dog named Daisy -- a pet who is all delighted and wiggly because she has a new toy.
Raschka depicts pretty much everything that can be done with one ball, one mouth, one tail and four paws. But then, not only because it must but also because it does, catastrophe strikes. Daisy’s ball is punctured by a bigger dog, and our heroine’s delight becomes first puzzlement and then despair.
In the instant Daisy realizes that her flattened ball is now flat for all time, she howls in protest. Her lament speaks to the very injustice of the universe and, like the death of Black Beauty or (Jack London’s) Buck, it almost brought me to tears.
But – ha! This is a book for young children. And young children need hope if the species is to survive Soon Raschka, with a clever twist that is also a nod to friendship, delivers an ending that restores Daisy’s happiness while also making sense.
If you’re thinking, “Seriously? A wordless book about a dog and a ball? This is what wins awards these days?”
Then get some gouache, some watercolors and some ink and try it yourself. Check back after you’ve tested the result on a roomful of toddlers. I’ll be interested to hear how it works out for you.(less)
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"Always go to other people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to yours."
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Yogi Berra
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"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."
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Elie Wiesel
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