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My Strange Shrinking Parents
A boy's parents journey from distant lands to enhance his life, but the outcome is surprising. What does it imply when your parents are unique? How does love manifest? And what occurs when parents give up a part of themselves for their child?
Hardcover
Published January 19, 2023
3 people are currently reading
405 people want to read
About the author
Zeno Sworder
4 books10 followersZeno Sworder is a writer and artist who lives in Melbourne with his young family. After studying Chinese literature and migration law at university, he ended up as a dishwasher. Later, he went on to work as a journalist, an English language teacher, a consular officer, an advocate for refugees and immigrants, and a jewelry designer. He is a lover of all stationery but has a particular soft spot for pencils. Sworder is the CBCA New Illustrator of the Year 2021, and his first book This Small Blue Dot was a CBCA Notable Book, the winner of the 2021 Australian Book Designers Association’s Award for Best Designed Children’s Illustrated Book, and the Designers’ Choice Children’s/Young Adult Book of the Year.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 78 reviews
June 12, 2025
It has been a long time since I last read a book of such grace and beauty.
January 5, 2023
I don’t think that anyone would contest the idea that your occupation has an impact on the way in which your brain works on a day-to-day basis. Work trains our minds into certain patterns. My job, for example, for many years was to be a children’s librarian. Part of what that means is that any time a person, be they a small child or an adult, came up to my desk, I had to be prepared to make connections. For example, if an adorable 3-year-old begged for “scary books” I needed to have a roster of titles in my brain to pull from in order to meet that need. In the children’s librarian world, the better you are at this kind of association, the better you are at your job. What I didn’t realize for a long time was how this would affect not simply my friendship with children’s authors (anytime one told me an idea for a book I’d inevitably try to come up with similar already existing ideas, which is not always consider a polite response), but also with the act of reviewing. I’ve reviewed children’s books almost as long as I’ve worked as a librarian and normally drawing associations between books is a good thing. There are times, however, when you wish you could see a book just for itself, on its own merits, without constantly comparing it to everything else out there. My Strange Shrinking Parents is a marvelous example of this. Reading Zeno Sworder’s haunting and magical metaphor for immigration, but with all the rules of a fairy tale intact, I wanted desperately to compare the book to Shaun Tan’s The Arrival. It was only after a little consideration that I realized how unfair that was to both Tan and Sworder. The fact of the matter is that My Strange Shrinking Parents is entirely its own creation, standing on its own two feet, with its own internal logic and rules. It is, in fact, one of the best takes on the experiences of children of immigrant parents I’ve ever seen in a picture book form. It stands, as I say, tall.
Before he was born, a boy’s parents left their countries and moved to a new place. “They had old shoes and empty pockets”. The two determined to give their child everything he would want, and to keep their daily problems from him. So when the time came for them to buy him a birthday cake, get him some schooling, or buy him books and shoes, they would barter. Just a couple inches of their height, and they could help their child. As time went by the boy was teased for being different and blamed his parents, begging them to stop shrinking. But the parents loved their son, and by the time he was able to get a job of his own, they were quite small indeed. So when he had a family of his own, he built his parents a beautiful house and made it so they would never have to work again. As the lullaby from his babyhood said, “Though our lives may be humble, / We are giants within.” Inspired by the works of Oscar Wilde, Shel Silverstein, and Stan Sakai comes a story of truly enduring love.
Where do your eyes go when you look at the cover of this book? For me, the image is split, almost immediately, between two parts. On the one hand my instinct is to read the title first. Sworder places it dead center on the page, on a square with beveled edges, as if to make it resemble a stamp or the sides of an old photograph. Then, immediately, you look at the woman seated just off-center to the left. Knees together, she’s perched, almost delicately, on what you later realize is her son’s left foot. Clad in a red dress, it’s a supremely dignified position, as if she’s posing for a professional photograph. To her right is her husband, one hand on her shoulder looking not at the viewer/camera lens, but right at her. Then, visible only up until the bottoms of the pockets of his shorts, is their son. You know these are the parents being referred to in the title, but again and again your eye goes back to that mother. The title itself feels like it should be goofy, but you can’t separate yourself from her poise. And you may wish, if only for a moment, to have a little of that poise yourself, whatever your size.
What the cover also does, I should mention, is make you keenly aware of Sworder’s illustration style. It’s a gentle surreal realism. Something you might get if Chris Van Allsburg were influenced by the Japanese woodblock prints of Hokusai and Hiroshinge. And, yes, there’s a hint of Shaun Tan in there as well. This realism is part of the reason the book works as well as it does. This is a world where it is perfectly normal to demand height for labor. Indeed, none of the adults in this book see anything wrong with the transaction of taking something from someone who has nothing else to trade for the things a child might need to grow up. Rereading the book several times also rewards sharp-eyed readers. I am convinced that there is a special place in the firmament above for illustrators that give parents more to see with every read and reread they perform on a book. It took me many times of going over this story before I realized that the shot at the beginning of the parents lifting up their son (while the viewer peers over a shelf containing bonsai plants and cracked tea cups) is repeated later with a similar shot of that same son lifting up HIS child. Only now his parents are standing on that shelf, not in front of it.
There are also small details in addition to these larger, more obvious references, that could elude you if you weren’t careful. For example, there is a small gift for sharp eyes located at the end of this book. It’s on the back bookflap, but also on the endpapers. Look there and you’ll see an array of beautifully rendered teapots of all kinds of colors and shapes. Some are intricate and ancient while others are rough and contemporary. And under the bookflap, red as the dress on the cover of the book, is an incredibly tiny teapot. No larger, you might think, than a pebble on a beach. Look close now. There it is (with two tiny cups) on the back of the book. Is it in the story? At first you might not think so and then . . . yes! Yes indeed, it’s beside the parents on that shelf I mentioned earlier. The one where they watch their son lifting his own new baby. And did you notice too that the other red object in the story, the red of the mother’s dress (which so entranced me on the cover), is consistent throughout the pages? The only time it fades is in that last image, where the parents stand outside in the fading light.
In his note at the end Sworder writes that, “while this story is imagined, its foundations are the milestones of my journey from child to parent. It is a fairytale woven together with memory.” I could tell you about all the ways Sworder’s storytelling choices went right. I could wax eloquent upon the wordless two-page spread that just shows two blossoms floating free of a tree against a blue sky. Or I could go another route. I could tell you all the ways that Sworder’s storytelling could have gone desperately, horribly wrong. For example, fairytale that this is, Sworder could have gone the Hans Christian Andersen route with his telling and traipsed it into tragic territory. Instead, he knew that a picture book must sometimes be all about balance. There are heartrending scenes, as when the boy kneels before his small mother, crying, arms wrapped around her, begging her to stop shrinking. Promising nothing she just says, “Those children think we’re different but we’re not. Our hearts are just as big. Our love is just as good.” And it’s the succinct rendering of those lines that make it work. Even without the gorgeous imagery, if you read this book and just read the words alone, you’d tear up at that moment just like I do. Every single time.
There is a dedication written at the beginning of this book. It reads, “To my immigrant parents. And to all parents who burden and narrow their own lives in the hope that their children will be free to go further.” I started this review by mentioning that I sometimes cannot read a new work for children without immediately trying to pair it with a similar title or titles. But if we really get into the metaphor and the meat of the story, what other picture book out there even talks half as plainly about the debt children owe to their parents? There are lots and lots of picture books about immigration. Often they are about the children that travel to new locations with their parents. Where, then, is the story about second generation kids like Sworder? Kids that may never fully understand the debt they owe these parents? And as I wrack my brain I realize that really, I don’t have to do that. My Strange Shrinking Parents is unique. It shouldn’t have to be. We should have reams of stories that cover similar territory. But if I had to have just one (not like I have a choice, but still) I would want it to be this book. Tone, image, story, and metaphor. Each piece of this book fits snugly together with every other piece, like a well-constructed puzzle. Simple enough for children to understand. Layered enough for adult readers to appreciate. Strangely perfect.
Before he was born, a boy’s parents left their countries and moved to a new place. “They had old shoes and empty pockets”. The two determined to give their child everything he would want, and to keep their daily problems from him. So when the time came for them to buy him a birthday cake, get him some schooling, or buy him books and shoes, they would barter. Just a couple inches of their height, and they could help their child. As time went by the boy was teased for being different and blamed his parents, begging them to stop shrinking. But the parents loved their son, and by the time he was able to get a job of his own, they were quite small indeed. So when he had a family of his own, he built his parents a beautiful house and made it so they would never have to work again. As the lullaby from his babyhood said, “Though our lives may be humble, / We are giants within.” Inspired by the works of Oscar Wilde, Shel Silverstein, and Stan Sakai comes a story of truly enduring love.
Where do your eyes go when you look at the cover of this book? For me, the image is split, almost immediately, between two parts. On the one hand my instinct is to read the title first. Sworder places it dead center on the page, on a square with beveled edges, as if to make it resemble a stamp or the sides of an old photograph. Then, immediately, you look at the woman seated just off-center to the left. Knees together, she’s perched, almost delicately, on what you later realize is her son’s left foot. Clad in a red dress, it’s a supremely dignified position, as if she’s posing for a professional photograph. To her right is her husband, one hand on her shoulder looking not at the viewer/camera lens, but right at her. Then, visible only up until the bottoms of the pockets of his shorts, is their son. You know these are the parents being referred to in the title, but again and again your eye goes back to that mother. The title itself feels like it should be goofy, but you can’t separate yourself from her poise. And you may wish, if only for a moment, to have a little of that poise yourself, whatever your size.
What the cover also does, I should mention, is make you keenly aware of Sworder’s illustration style. It’s a gentle surreal realism. Something you might get if Chris Van Allsburg were influenced by the Japanese woodblock prints of Hokusai and Hiroshinge. And, yes, there’s a hint of Shaun Tan in there as well. This realism is part of the reason the book works as well as it does. This is a world where it is perfectly normal to demand height for labor. Indeed, none of the adults in this book see anything wrong with the transaction of taking something from someone who has nothing else to trade for the things a child might need to grow up. Rereading the book several times also rewards sharp-eyed readers. I am convinced that there is a special place in the firmament above for illustrators that give parents more to see with every read and reread they perform on a book. It took me many times of going over this story before I realized that the shot at the beginning of the parents lifting up their son (while the viewer peers over a shelf containing bonsai plants and cracked tea cups) is repeated later with a similar shot of that same son lifting up HIS child. Only now his parents are standing on that shelf, not in front of it.
There are also small details in addition to these larger, more obvious references, that could elude you if you weren’t careful. For example, there is a small gift for sharp eyes located at the end of this book. It’s on the back bookflap, but also on the endpapers. Look there and you’ll see an array of beautifully rendered teapots of all kinds of colors and shapes. Some are intricate and ancient while others are rough and contemporary. And under the bookflap, red as the dress on the cover of the book, is an incredibly tiny teapot. No larger, you might think, than a pebble on a beach. Look close now. There it is (with two tiny cups) on the back of the book. Is it in the story? At first you might not think so and then . . . yes! Yes indeed, it’s beside the parents on that shelf I mentioned earlier. The one where they watch their son lifting his own new baby. And did you notice too that the other red object in the story, the red of the mother’s dress (which so entranced me on the cover), is consistent throughout the pages? The only time it fades is in that last image, where the parents stand outside in the fading light.
In his note at the end Sworder writes that, “while this story is imagined, its foundations are the milestones of my journey from child to parent. It is a fairytale woven together with memory.” I could tell you about all the ways Sworder’s storytelling choices went right. I could wax eloquent upon the wordless two-page spread that just shows two blossoms floating free of a tree against a blue sky. Or I could go another route. I could tell you all the ways that Sworder’s storytelling could have gone desperately, horribly wrong. For example, fairytale that this is, Sworder could have gone the Hans Christian Andersen route with his telling and traipsed it into tragic territory. Instead, he knew that a picture book must sometimes be all about balance. There are heartrending scenes, as when the boy kneels before his small mother, crying, arms wrapped around her, begging her to stop shrinking. Promising nothing she just says, “Those children think we’re different but we’re not. Our hearts are just as big. Our love is just as good.” And it’s the succinct rendering of those lines that make it work. Even without the gorgeous imagery, if you read this book and just read the words alone, you’d tear up at that moment just like I do. Every single time.
There is a dedication written at the beginning of this book. It reads, “To my immigrant parents. And to all parents who burden and narrow their own lives in the hope that their children will be free to go further.” I started this review by mentioning that I sometimes cannot read a new work for children without immediately trying to pair it with a similar title or titles. But if we really get into the metaphor and the meat of the story, what other picture book out there even talks half as plainly about the debt children owe to their parents? There are lots and lots of picture books about immigration. Often they are about the children that travel to new locations with their parents. Where, then, is the story about second generation kids like Sworder? Kids that may never fully understand the debt they owe these parents? And as I wrack my brain I realize that really, I don’t have to do that. My Strange Shrinking Parents is unique. It shouldn’t have to be. We should have reams of stories that cover similar territory. But if I had to have just one (not like I have a choice, but still) I would want it to be this book. Tone, image, story, and metaphor. Each piece of this book fits snugly together with every other piece, like a well-constructed puzzle. Simple enough for children to understand. Layered enough for adult readers to appreciate. Strangely perfect.
September 26, 2024
One of the mist moving and wonderful sophisticated picture books I’ve ever read. Gorgeous art. Memorable story with such a great message. Loved it very much.
October 9, 2022
If you love Shaun Tan, then you’ll love this picture book.
A wonderful picture book for years 5 & 6 classrooms. Ties in with curriculum:
- 20th century Australian immigration
- Asian and neighbours
- visual literacies
Outside of schools, this is an incredible story of parenting and the personal costs. Share this book with your own parents and grandparents.
A wonderful picture book for years 5 & 6 classrooms. Ties in with curriculum:
- 20th century Australian immigration
- Asian and neighbours
- visual literacies
Outside of schools, this is an incredible story of parenting and the personal costs. Share this book with your own parents and grandparents.
Read
December 27, 2023Written as though it is a fairytale, this is a story of parental love and sacrifice, especially the incredible sacrifice faced by many immigrant parents. As their child grows, the parents shrink in stature-a powerful metaphor for a parents love, willingness to give, and how small adults may feel while working hard to make sure their children have a life they want for them. A beautiful and touching story.
January 13, 2024
4.5 stars
March 9, 2024
Feels more like a picture book meant for adults than kids, but I'll take it. Genuinely moving story.
May 27, 2023
This is a gorgeous story of parental love, family evolution and reflection. Something for mums, dads and children to read together.
The softness of the story and it's accompanying illustrations are stunning. I found myself lingering from one page to the next with great admiration of the beauty and enjoyed being one of the curious people who read on through the brief end note to know more of the author's world.
Book end pages have become quite the storytellers in their own right now-a-days. These had a lovely ode to the friendships of the young boy through the representation of the teapots possibly used by his friend's families that were as unique as various cultures his friends hailed from and included the small red teapot used by his own parents 🫖.
The softness of the story and it's accompanying illustrations are stunning. I found myself lingering from one page to the next with great admiration of the beauty and enjoyed being one of the curious people who read on through the brief end note to know more of the author's world.
Book end pages have become quite the storytellers in their own right now-a-days. These had a lovely ode to the friendships of the young boy through the representation of the teapots possibly used by his friend's families that were as unique as various cultures his friends hailed from and included the small red teapot used by his own parents 🫖.
December 5, 2023
My Strange Shrinking Parents was on the short list of Children's Books in the 2023 Australian Prime Minister's Literary Awards.
It is a poignant story with stunning illustrations to accompany the sensitive, fairy tale like text. Although it is a picture book, My Strange Shrinking Parents will appeal to anyone who loves stories about the beauty (and sometimes the heartbreak) to be found in the lives of children and their parents anywhere in the world.
Recommended.
It is a poignant story with stunning illustrations to accompany the sensitive, fairy tale like text. Although it is a picture book, My Strange Shrinking Parents will appeal to anyone who loves stories about the beauty (and sometimes the heartbreak) to be found in the lives of children and their parents anywhere in the world.
Recommended.
October 13, 2023
Reminds me of so many first generation kids of immigration parents like myself. All of the sacrifices my parents did, so my sister and I could have a better life. Now as a parent, I will make different kinds of sacrifices as well for my baby🥲
April 3, 2023
This book is gorgeous, art and words!!
Read
February 8, 2025Glad I read a review of this before I read it so that I appreciated all the fine details and deeper meanings in this book
February 11, 2025
This made me cry in the middle of a book store
October 31, 2025
Beautiful illustrations and an interesting story and novel story.
June 13, 2024
What an idea
August 24, 2024
My Strange Shrinking Parents: A Tall Tale is a picture book for older readers by Zeno Sworder. When it was published in 2022, it was declared Picture Book of the Year by the Children's Book Council of Australia. The dedication reads as follows: "To my immigrant parents. And to all parents who burden and narrow their own lives in the hope that their children will be free to go further."
The story starts when two parents hold up their baby. The narrator begins: "It goes without saying that all children believe their parents to be strange." He describes how his immigrant parents sacrificed so much so he could have the same things as other children. In a twist of magical realism, what they sacrifice is their height. For example, "The principal kindly requested only three inches for each year of schooling." Eventually, the son is the same height as his parents, which has the advantage of allowing them to share clothes and have more room to dance together. The parents keep shrinking. One painful two-page spread shows them hawking fruit while they're only waist-height to the grey passersby ignoring them. (Here it is.) The son, now taller than his mother, hugs her while pleading that they "stop shrinking, to be like all the other parents." She reassures him that "Our hearts are just as big [as theirs]." Time passes, as represented by a wordless picture of cherry blossoms. (The lovely art, in muted colors, is partly inspired by Japanese ukiyo-e.) The narrator and his wife hold up their baby (mirroring the book's beginning), while his parents look on, now just a few inches high. The book ends as he sings them the same song with which his mother had sung him to sleep, including the lyrics: "Love is a circle. Round and round it goes... Though our lives may be humble, we are giants within."
Perhaps you're reminded of The Giving Tree. In fact, the author's website offers Teacher's Notes that recommend having a class discussion comparing the two books. It seems to me that there's a big difference as to whether the recipient of parental love reciprocates it or not. The "boy" in Shel Silverstein's book keeps taking from the tree without showing any gratitude or love, while the narrator of My Strange Shrinking Parents feels bad about his parents' sacrifice, and lovingly gives back to them when he can. This book has been described as both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Wow!
The story starts when two parents hold up their baby. The narrator begins: "It goes without saying that all children believe their parents to be strange." He describes how his immigrant parents sacrificed so much so he could have the same things as other children. In a twist of magical realism, what they sacrifice is their height. For example, "The principal kindly requested only three inches for each year of schooling." Eventually, the son is the same height as his parents, which has the advantage of allowing them to share clothes and have more room to dance together. The parents keep shrinking. One painful two-page spread shows them hawking fruit while they're only waist-height to the grey passersby ignoring them. (Here it is.) The son, now taller than his mother, hugs her while pleading that they "stop shrinking, to be like all the other parents." She reassures him that "Our hearts are just as big [as theirs]." Time passes, as represented by a wordless picture of cherry blossoms. (The lovely art, in muted colors, is partly inspired by Japanese ukiyo-e.) The narrator and his wife hold up their baby (mirroring the book's beginning), while his parents look on, now just a few inches high. The book ends as he sings them the same song with which his mother had sung him to sleep, including the lyrics: "Love is a circle. Round and round it goes... Though our lives may be humble, we are giants within."
Perhaps you're reminded of The Giving Tree. In fact, the author's website offers Teacher's Notes that recommend having a class discussion comparing the two books. It seems to me that there's a big difference as to whether the recipient of parental love reciprocates it or not. The "boy" in Shel Silverstein's book keeps taking from the tree without showing any gratitude or love, while the narrator of My Strange Shrinking Parents feels bad about his parents' sacrifice, and lovingly gives back to them when he can. This book has been described as both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Wow!
May 29, 2025
Wow—My Strange Shrinking Parents completely took me by surprise. Warning - read to yourself before your children because you will find yourself sobbing! I wasn't able to get a physical copy of this one so I did a read aloud on the youtube channel, storytimefamily.
On the surface, it’s a beautifully illustrated children’s book with surreal, dreamlike artwork that pulls you in immediately. But underneath that, there’s a powerful story about immigrant parents and the quiet, often unseen sacrifices they make for their children. The metaphor of the parents physically shrinking as they give more and more to help their child grow is simple but incredibly moving. I didn’t expect to cry reading a picture book, but here we are.
What really struck me was how this book tells a story that many children of immigrants will recognize—the love that shows up not in big declarations, but in everyday acts of care, work, and selflessness. What struck me even more was how much I, not an immigrant, was able to empathize with these immigrant parents. Afterall, what parent doesn't feel themselves 'shrinking' as they try to give their children the best life possible? Zeno Sworder captures this so gently and poetically, it hits you in the heart without ever feeling heavy-handed. It’s the kind of book that resonates just as deeply with adults as it does with kids, and I think families reading this together will find a lot to talk about.
On the surface, it’s a beautifully illustrated children’s book with surreal, dreamlike artwork that pulls you in immediately. But underneath that, there’s a powerful story about immigrant parents and the quiet, often unseen sacrifices they make for their children. The metaphor of the parents physically shrinking as they give more and more to help their child grow is simple but incredibly moving. I didn’t expect to cry reading a picture book, but here we are.
What really struck me was how this book tells a story that many children of immigrants will recognize—the love that shows up not in big declarations, but in everyday acts of care, work, and selflessness. What struck me even more was how much I, not an immigrant, was able to empathize with these immigrant parents. Afterall, what parent doesn't feel themselves 'shrinking' as they try to give their children the best life possible? Zeno Sworder captures this so gently and poetically, it hits you in the heart without ever feeling heavy-handed. It’s the kind of book that resonates just as deeply with adults as it does with kids, and I think families reading this together will find a lot to talk about.
February 9, 2023
From a song Zeno Sworder's mother sang to him:
Can I tell you a secret
That every heart knows
Love is a circle
Round and round it grows
And my love for you grows
Beneath this proud skin
Though our lives may be humble
We are giants within.
A fine picture book tribute to Zeno Sworder's parents, who emigrated to Australia as many in heir neighborhood had done, working insane hours to make a better life for their children. Sworder's analogy for this process is that his parents--adults who always seem strange in certain ways to children--sacrificed in so many ways, that their lives "shrank" and became even stranger. But this is not to say they were essentially diminished in any real way, since they in a way grew in stature for him as human beings.
So it's a magical analogy, as we see them get smaller and smaller, and the analogy plays out in various sweet ways. I thought of Shaun Tan's The Arrival as another (paired) magical immigration story, and also The Shrinking of Treehorn, where the kid shrinks. No, it has nothing to do with the film series with Rick Moranis, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, or Help, I Shrunk my Parents! A uniquely great picture book I highly recommend you check out.
From the afterword by Sworder: "I learned something about the nature of love; when given it enlarges both the giver and the receiver. In this way our parents were giants."
Can I tell you a secret
That every heart knows
Love is a circle
Round and round it grows
And my love for you grows
Beneath this proud skin
Though our lives may be humble
We are giants within.
A fine picture book tribute to Zeno Sworder's parents, who emigrated to Australia as many in heir neighborhood had done, working insane hours to make a better life for their children. Sworder's analogy for this process is that his parents--adults who always seem strange in certain ways to children--sacrificed in so many ways, that their lives "shrank" and became even stranger. But this is not to say they were essentially diminished in any real way, since they in a way grew in stature for him as human beings.
So it's a magical analogy, as we see them get smaller and smaller, and the analogy plays out in various sweet ways. I thought of Shaun Tan's The Arrival as another (paired) magical immigration story, and also The Shrinking of Treehorn, where the kid shrinks. No, it has nothing to do with the film series with Rick Moranis, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, or Help, I Shrunk my Parents! A uniquely great picture book I highly recommend you check out.
From the afterword by Sworder: "I learned something about the nature of love; when given it enlarges both the giver and the receiver. In this way our parents were giants."
June 30, 2024
“Before I was born, my parents had come from far-off lands.
They had old shoes and empty pockets.”
“Like all good parents, they did their best to hold me safely above the daily troubles they faced.”
This is a beautiful, beautiful book about immigrant parents and what they give. Zeno Sworder narrates and illustrates this tale from him growing up as a child, his parents unable to provide but so willing to cut themself short to make it happen.
The heart aches for his mother, who sings him to sleep:
“Can I tell you a secret
That every heart knows
Love is a circle
Round and round it goes
And my love for you grows
Beneath this proud skin
Though our lives may be humble
We are giants within”
It is an allegory for today, for every young reader and their adult, to remember every immigrant story as actually their own. To remember their sacrifices, their belief in us, how different they were even as we strived for sameness with others.
“Our hearts are just as big.
Our love is just as good.”
📚: @thamesandhudsonasia
They had old shoes and empty pockets.”
“Like all good parents, they did their best to hold me safely above the daily troubles they faced.”
This is a beautiful, beautiful book about immigrant parents and what they give. Zeno Sworder narrates and illustrates this tale from him growing up as a child, his parents unable to provide but so willing to cut themself short to make it happen.
The heart aches for his mother, who sings him to sleep:
“Can I tell you a secret
That every heart knows
Love is a circle
Round and round it goes
And my love for you grows
Beneath this proud skin
Though our lives may be humble
We are giants within”
It is an allegory for today, for every young reader and their adult, to remember every immigrant story as actually their own. To remember their sacrifices, their belief in us, how different they were even as we strived for sameness with others.
“Our hearts are just as big.
Our love is just as good.”
📚: @thamesandhudsonasia
May 9, 2025
I'm not sure why, but this little story really touched my heart. Parents, at least good ones, sacrifice so much for their children. This little story illustrates that so well.
It's a story of immigrants to Australia. They have a hard life and they sacrifice for their child to have a good life they can't. As the child grows up, they don't have money, so people begin taking inches from them. As the boy grows, the parents shrink.
Naturally, we shrink as we get older. I've already lost an inch. But this story takes it and gives that a punch. By the end, the parents are the size of a teacup and they can live in a doll house.
The artwork looks stunning. It's so beautiful. It looks like all sorts of real art media like pastels, inks watercolor, acrylic, you name it. The people are beautiful. There is a full page of a cherry tree blossom that is truly a work of art. Amazing.
Just a beautiful book about the love a parent gives a child. Really. It's so beautiful.
It's a story of immigrants to Australia. They have a hard life and they sacrifice for their child to have a good life they can't. As the child grows up, they don't have money, so people begin taking inches from them. As the boy grows, the parents shrink.
Naturally, we shrink as we get older. I've already lost an inch. But this story takes it and gives that a punch. By the end, the parents are the size of a teacup and they can live in a doll house.
The artwork looks stunning. It's so beautiful. It looks like all sorts of real art media like pastels, inks watercolor, acrylic, you name it. The people are beautiful. There is a full page of a cherry tree blossom that is truly a work of art. Amazing.
Just a beautiful book about the love a parent gives a child. Really. It's so beautiful.
May 28, 2024
The unconditional love of parent for a child is framed in a beautiful fantasy story narrated by the child whose parents left their rural life (Australia, likely, though it's never stated) for life in the city. From early on, the parents sacrifice their height when they must give up something in order for the boy to grow and have what he needs to succeed. As years go by, the parents shrink into miniatures but the boy grows and becomes a healthy successful adult owing everything to his sacrificing parents. A beautifully wrought story of self-sacrifice told with love, without didacticism, and enhanced by pale pastel lavender illustrations depicting the life of the boy and his parents through the years.
January 4, 2023
My Strange Shrinking Parents is a thoughtful and beautifully illustrate representation of parent-child relationships. The narrator's parents provide for him by giving up inches of height to pay for his education and needs, and in the end, it is miniature they who need his care. T liked it as a story in its own fantastic right, while I appreciated the insightful analogy of parental sacrifice and role reversal.
Bonus: The end paper has gorgeous teapots, amongst which we each found a favorite. Mine was blue and white. T's had two spouts.
Bonus: The end paper has gorgeous teapots, amongst which we each found a favorite. Mine was blue and white. T's had two spouts.
August 11, 2023
Suitable for older readers - upper primary at least.
It is the story of an immigrant family that has nothing to trade for their child education so they start trading in their height, and eventually they give away almost all their height and they are so small they live on a bookcase.
It is a very vivid way of discussing the cost of living in Australia, and also the fact that parents would give up ANYTHING for their child. A younger child could potentially be upset by this book.
Nominated for the CBCA Picture Book of the Year 2023
It is the story of an immigrant family that has nothing to trade for their child education so they start trading in their height, and eventually they give away almost all their height and they are so small they live on a bookcase.
It is a very vivid way of discussing the cost of living in Australia, and also the fact that parents would give up ANYTHING for their child. A younger child could potentially be upset by this book.
Nominated for the CBCA Picture Book of the Year 2023
January 23, 2024
I was fortunate enough to stumble into the rose st markets last year and find this book being sold by the author. The author, however was on lunch break so I took my time to read through the pages. I started crying as this story captured the immigrant parents' sacrifice story so beautifully. They give and they give selflessly. The illustrations are gorgeous and the story touched my heart my deeply that I think about this book randomly. Thank you to Zeno's wife who I spoke to after and bought this book from.
August 6, 2025
I read the book in its Greek translation and I truly loved it.
It’s a story I find myself returning to, drawing strength from its themes: the resilience and sacrifices of immigrant parents, the hope carried by children as the future, and the quiet, often painful shrinking of the parental self.
This book beautifully captures the emotional weight of migration, family, and identity.
I wholeheartedly recommend it — not only for younger readers, but also for adults. It speaks powerfully to all of us.
It’s a story I find myself returning to, drawing strength from its themes: the resilience and sacrifices of immigrant parents, the hope carried by children as the future, and the quiet, often painful shrinking of the parental self.
This book beautifully captures the emotional weight of migration, family, and identity.
I wholeheartedly recommend it — not only for younger readers, but also for adults. It speaks powerfully to all of us.
June 6, 2023
More for parents than for kids. A poor couple don't have enough money to provide for their child, so they use inches to pay for things. They slowly get shorter as the kid gets older until he's an adult and they're the size of dolls. So, The Giving Tree. But the adult child in this takes some responsibility for providing for his parents. The art is pretty good.
September 9, 2023
A wonderful metaphor for the sacrifice's that parents make on behalf of their children. The illustrations are beautiful, as is the message. Some of my younger readers (7-8 yo) did not understand the metaphor, but still enjoyed the book when explored with the assistance of an adult. Provided an excellent opportunity for us to thank our parents for all they do for us.
November 30, 2023
A mother and father bring their child to a new land to give the child all the opportunities they desire for him. The parents sacrifice themselves to give to the child, and the parents steadily grow small. But in adulthood, the child sacrifices for the parents who gave so much to him.
A beautiful story.
A beautiful story.
June 24, 2024
I love this book it has really good illustration and pictures. I loved how it has the message which is parents give up anything for the children so kids must do the same to repay their parents. It was super good, the story like was so heart warming and I think all ages can read it just not kindergarten kids but that’s about it oh and there’s not really anything wrong with the book.
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