A Bushel and a Peck: Picture Book Quick Picks for Valentine's Day

My grandmother used to say, "I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck."

My grandfather would sing us an old song:

Oh, I'll think I'll be wed in the summertime,
I think I'll be wed in July.
I think I'll be wed when the roses are red
And the weather is sunny and dry.
Hand in hand, together we'll stand,
My sweetheart united to be.
Hand in hand, together we'll stand,
My bonny wee [grandchild's name] and me!

This was sung in a rather roaring voice as we rode in a big old farm truck up the mountain to the sheep camp. My grandfather's family were sheep ranchers.

People claim Valentine's Day is a holiday invented by (or at least hyped by) greeting card companies, but I hope you have a few fond memories of grade-school valentines and, better still, of the ones you used to make for your mom and dad. Let alone however you may celebrate with your sweetheart today. Here is a bouquet of red rose picture books in honor of Valentine's Day.


Plant a Kiss by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds

The plot is a little vague for children, but the simple, cheerful text and illustrations rescue it for the smaller crowd (though it clearly makes a good gift book for older romantics). A small girl takes the old expression literally and plants a kiss in the ground like a seed. (She doesn't actually kiss the ground, but you get the idea.) Like the boy in The Carrot Seed, she waits with some impatience for it to come up. Here are the first few pages of text:

It goes like this.
Little Miss planted a kiss.
Planted a kiss? Planted a kiss.
Sunshine. Water. Greet. Repeat.
Wait and Wait. Getting Late.
Doubt. Pout.

But then her seed does come up! And her friends show up to tell her not to share it. Of course, she does. The plant is shown as a sort of gold sparkly something, by the way. A sweet V-day treat.


Hugs from Pearl, written and illustrated by Paul Schmid

The first of two books about somebody who's too prickly to hug, this story features a grade school-age porcupine (Pre-K or kindergartner, I'd say) who loves to hug her friends. Unfortunately, they don't love being hugged by her. Pearl tries various solutions and finally comes up with a way to give hugs without hurting anyone. Another fairly minimalist text (the current style for picture books), though it sounds more like a Narrator telling the tale. The art is clean and cute. Pearl is adorable in a very young way. A nice celebration of hugs and of individuality.


Hedgehug: A Sharp Lesson in Love, created and illustrated by Dan Pinto, written by Benn Sutton

This book has a similar message to Schmid's, but it's a more prickly story. Even the artwork is less sweet.

"Hello, bunny." Hedgehug waved. "I have something for you." And he gave the bunny his heart [in the form of a valentine]. Hedgehug was so happy he could... [hugs bunny]

"OUCH!" [page turn]

"You spiked me," said the bunny.

"Sorry, bunny," mumbled Hedgehug.

"My name isn't bunny, it's Doris! And I don't want your stupid heart!" Doris stormed off.

Hedgehug continues on his quest to find love. Until finally he comes across someone who appreciates him. And no, it's not another hedgehog. I found the artwork in this one a little less appealing, but it does the job just fine. This is a fun pick for the Kinder and Grade 1 crowd, who will like the humor.


Snowy Valentine by David Petersen (Creator of Mouse Guard)

A longer story about an adult rabbit named Jasper Bunny who sets out in the snow to find the perfect valentine for his wife, Lilly. He visits various neighbors and asks them what they're giving their sweethearts for Valentine's Day, even experiencing some peril before giving up... But then he inadvertently comes up with a lovely gift. This book is a little too didactic for me, but the artwork is pretty and the final twist is a lot of fun.


French Ducks in Venice by Garret Freymann-Weyr, illustrated by Erin McGuire

Keeping it sort of real, here's a book that came out a few months ago, and it's about a broken heart. Believe it or not, there are folks out there thinking, "Oh, great, Valentine's Day" in a pink-tinged version of Scrooge this morning. This is the book for them! It's a picture book, but it seems to be meant for adults, or at least older children. Georges and Cécile are ducks living in Venice Beach, California, where they are friends with a pretty young fashion designer named Polina Panova. When her heart is broken, the two ducks set out to find the magic that will make her feel better. Their gift is marvelous, but Polina is still sad about her lost love. This baffles Georges, an incurable romantic.

"Polina Panova is a Russian princess," Georges says. "How is it possible that she will always be sad?"

"A little bit sad," Cécile says.

"Princesses are not sad," Georges says. "Not even a little bit."

The artwork resembles Disney animation rather strongly (and beautifully), but the author wants us to know that Disney got it wrong. Heartache is part of the human condition. Right along with talking ducks? Don't ask me how, but it works! This book is for sharing with your artsy friends.


In the interest of "Hey, I just had a book come out," I will mention that my retelling of the Brothers Grimm tale Hans My Hedgehog is also about the redeeming power of true love. In a rather convoluted, prickly, and magical way. With pigs.


Happy Valentine's Day!


Note: The first four books were sent to me by HarperCollins. Thanks, HC!

There Is Such a Thing as a Tesseract

It was a dark and stormy night.

In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind. Behind the trees clouds scudded frantically across the sky. Every few moments the moon ripped through them, creating wraith-like shadows that raced along the ground.

The house shook.

Wrapped in her quilt, Meg shook.

She wasn't usually afraid of weather. —It's not just the weather, she thought. —It's the weather on top of everything else. On top of me. On top of Meg Murry doing everything wrong.

I read a lot when I was a kid, and I mean a lot. But I still remember the feeling I got from reading A Wrinkle in Time. I was an odd duck, like Meg, and late elementary/junior high school was a difficult time for me. I just didn't fit. So reading the book was reassuring—here was someone like me, and she said the wrong things, and she got emotional like me, and yet, she was a hero. Not in a smooth and shiny way, but in a prickly, klutzy way, which I knew very well was the only way I would ever be any kind of hero.

That wasn't the only reason I loved the book, though. I was enchanted by the rest of the cast, too, particularly Charles Wallace and the three not-exactly-witches with the way-clever names. I loved the strangeness of the story, as well, the way it led me across the fold of a skirt to planets where beautiful beings lived, and terrifying ones.

Of course, IT was such a brazenly B-movie villain (even if I didn't know the term "B-movie" quite yet); I'm still asking myself just how it is that Madeleine L'Engle makes him/it work? She leads us up to that moment with those robotic kids playing in front of their poison cookie-cutter houses, that's how. And the mind-capture of Charles Wallace—shudder! L'Engle has a wonderful touch with details. I've never forgotten the disquieting softness of a father's beard and hair that have grown out as he stood trapped inside his futuristic cell.

Well. It's been 50 years since the book first come out. I can't remember where I first read the story, but Madeleine L'Engle had a very difficult time getting the book published. She sent it off to a couple of dozen publishers and they all turned it down, so she stuck it in a drawer and basically gave up. Then a friend of hers told her she knew John Farrar of Farrar Straus and Giroux. Please note that FSG did not have a children's division at the time. The friend passed the manuscript to Farrar and he loved it, so FSG basically started a children's division for L'Engle's book. The next year, when she won the Newbery, Madeleine went to a celebratory dinner and was approached by various editors saying, "Why didn't you send it to me?" Her answer, of course, was, "I did." They were astonished, but she had the rejection slips to prove it. (Part of this account appears in the commemorative edition's afterword.)

One interesting note: I've found that people (especially librarians) can debate endlessly over whether this book is science fiction or fantasy. It fits easily in both categories, though I suppose I lean a little towards science fiction, myself. At any rate, A Wrinkle in Time opened the door to a new kind of creativity in the children's SFF genre. (The art to the above left depicting Mrs. Which, Mrs. Whatsit, and Mrs. Who is by Eugene Eian Lee.)

As a participant in A Wrinkle in Time's 50th anniversary blog tour, I agreed to write a poem or two in honor of the occasion. (And yes, I will give a brazen shout-out to my forthcoming poetry book, Water Sings Blue, while I'm at it.) It was easy to decide to write a poem about Meg, but then I said half-jokingly on Twitter that I might write a poem about the boy with the ball, and the response was pretty positive. So I've written both. The second poem also attempts to answer the question my sister asked me last week when I told her about the post: "What happened to the rest of the people on Camazotz?" And by the way, in case you were wondering, the planet was named after a Mayan bat god associated with death, night, and sacrifice.


Tesseract

Sometimes I look down
at my feet as I walk
through dirt and gravel
and dead grass, stepping
and stepping, not getting
very far really.

The numbers line up
in my head like the students
in my class.

At lunch, who
will sit with me?

After school, which
one should I punch first?

Every morning, why
do I brush my hair
and go back?

There is no one who
will tell me what
to do or why
to do it.

All I am
is Meg walking down a street
to meet something terrible.

All I am
is Meg holding hands
with a small
wise-eyed brother.

All I am
is Meg.



The Boy with the Ball

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts
and then—
it stops. I drop the ball
(the thing that started it all).
But it is mine.
I pick it up again, put it
in my pocket.

Nothing.
Where before there were walls
without windows or doors.
I walk down a gray hall.

Up ahead, I see someone running
the other way.
No one comes.
No one yells at me.

I wander
till I find a vast space.
A brain pulses on a dais.
I feel unseen claws grasping.
This is the thing
that hurt me. I stand still.

Boy, you are one of mine,
the brain tells me. But its words
cannot hold me.
My heart skips. I stumble
and fall like a dropped ball.

I scramble up.
"No," I say. "I am broken."
That's what they told me.
(But I got up just now.)
I take the ball from my pocket
and throw it as hard as I can.
It makes a dull thunk.

I run out of the building,
past confused people
in dark suits. I run
to the street where my house is.
Children stand staring down
at red rubber balls
and jump ropes lying there
like dead snakes.

"Come on," I say,
and they follow me
up the hill, where I show them
how to climb a tree.


Meg and Charles Wallace, Calvin and Mrs. Whatsit—like Harriet the Spy and Charlie of chocolate factory fame, they will live on across many wrinkles of time, iconic, flawed, and lovable. Because Meg loves her little brother, and so, in spite of Meg's feeling of being all wrong, everything really is all right.


Here's the link to the Wrinkle in Time Facebook page and the list of 50 participating blogs (wow!).

The 50th Anniversary Commemorative edition has some extra features. It's the orange book shown at the top of this post on the right; the book at the top left is the paperback commemorative edition.

o Frontispiece photo*+
o Photo scrapbook with approximately 10 photos*+
o Manuscript pages*+
o Letter from 1963 Caldecott winner, Ezra Jack Keats*+
o New introduction by Katherine Paterson, US National Ambassador for Young People's Literature +
o New afterword by Madeleine L'Engle's granddaughter Charlotte Voiklis including six never-before-seen photos +
o Murry-O'Keefe family tree with new artwork +
o Madeleine L'Engle's Newbery acceptance speech

I will confess that this list came with no explanation for the various asterisks, so feel free to make up your own meaning for them. But you get the idea!

This post is linked to Poetry Friday (2/10), hosted by poet Laura Purdie Salas.

Also: I have the book with the yellow cover, 2nd up on the right. What about you? Which version matches your memory of A Wrinkle in Time? Or did you have that turquoise one?

A Review of Pandemonium by Chris Wooding and Cassandra Diaz

My favorite thing about the relatively recent incursion of the graphic novel into children's literature is that for some reason the quality has been very high—as compared to, say, movies. With the exception of Pixar, most movie studios make a lot of bombs. But look at the current crop of graphic novels for kids, and you'll find a lot more success stories than failures. (My theory is that they're so much trouble to make that no one dreams of signing off on them unless they're really terrific, but I'm open to suggestions.) At any rate, Pandemonium is another winner.

Wooding (author) and Diaz (illustrator) launch right into fantasy tropes with a game of Skullball, which seems to be a dark parody of Quidditch. Our hero is Seifer Tombchewer, a dark-haired boy with wings. Actually, everyone in his kingdom seems to have wings.

At first the name "Tombchewer" sounds like a hokey attempt at a fantasy moniker, but then we learn that Seifer's grandpa "hasn't been quite right ever since he ate something poisonous that fell asleep in his porridge." The man literally gnaws on gravestones. He also regularly hunts his cat, knife and fork in hand, hoping to eat it, too. (There's another great cat joke later in the book.)

Seifer lives up in the mountains, at least until he's kidnapped and ordered to impersonate a missing prince. Seifer gets it all wrong, but he gets it right in unexpected ways. He makes a couple of friends and a couple of enemies. He survives various attempts on his life and muddles around trying to help his kingdom.

As you can tell by the bit about Seifer's grandpa, Wooding has a great time with all of this, throwing in satirical touches and funny dialogue even as he tells a somewhat classic dark fantasy tale. For example, when Seifer comes to after being kidnapped and knocked out, he cries out to Queen Euthanasia Pandemonium:

My queen. What would you have of me? How... How did I get here? [new bubble] And why does my body ache as if I've been expertly and viciously coshed by midgets?

Which, of course, he has. Wooding gives us a nice array of characters, from the cynical Prime Minister (Master Lumbago) to the little trio of red-cloaked, masochistic thuglets known as the Velvet Spies. We also come across a number of suitably horrid villains, as well a couple of princess sisters and a clever, dynamic kinda-girlfriend for Seifer, now known as Prince Talon.

Seifer-Talon apparently has a fiancée, too, though she doesn't show up for the time being. It's said of the beautiful Lady Asphyxia's mother, Baroness Crustacea Effluvia, "that one of her marathon nagging sessions drove her last husband to snort a bag of scorpions."

I hope you're getting the picture—Wooding spices his story with a lot of excellent tongue-in-cheek humor. Just one more example. When Seifer asks what happens if he doesn't agree to pretend to be the prince, the next page shows him dangling over a pit of fanged monsters, saying, "Alright! Alright! You could have just told me about the psycho carnage beasts." This is funny enough in and of itself, but then a few pages later, we glimpse the psycho carnage beasts filing their long, sharp nails as one says, "You didn't think it was a little too much? The whole 'RAAARGH' thing?" The other replies, "Oh, no. I think you got it just right." Thing #1 says, "Are you sure? Because I really wasn't feeling it tonight."

Heh heh.

Meanwhile, people are trying to kill Seifer-Talon, and he's trying to figure out how not to be killed, along with who exactly to trust. One issue is that the missing prince is a real jerk, while Seifer's a pretty nice guy. A drawback—but also a surprising source of strength. I like that Seifer knows enough to be scared when he gets tossed into an arena with a powerful opponent: "Oh, crud. I'm gonna die," he says. Nice real guy there!

Cassandra Diaz's artwork is dynamic, with a definite anime influence. Keep in mind that Seifer's kingdom is always in darkness, so backdrops vary from gray to black, with touches of blue and especially red or orange to add contrast. The whole effect is very striking.

If you're a fan of graphic novels, dark fantasy, and adventures, track down Pandemonium. It'll be worth it for the humor alone.

Note for Worried Parents: There's some violence here, though it's a bit cartoonish. Pandemonium does have a tween, if not teen, feel. For one thing, Seifer has to be at least 15 or 16. Amazon says the book is for 8 and up, but I would say 10 and up unless your 8-year-old is into anime, kill-the-orc-type video games, and/or dark fantasy.

Also: You can visit the author's website here.

A Review of Cold Cereal by Adam Rex

Adam Rex's latest will be in bookstores next week, and like the guy's previous middle grade book, The True Meaning of Smekday, it's more than a little nuts. I will note that Rex and his compatriot, the very funny Mac Barnett, are challenging Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith's reign as children's literature's Madly Humorous Duo. (See Barnett and Rex's YouTube video trailer for the upcoming picture book, Chloe and the Lion. And this outtake.) (Also: If you add in Dan Santat, it's a Madly Humorous Trio.)

You should also be aware that Rex is an illustrator. And a poet. E.g., in Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich.

So—Cold Cereal. It's a story of leprechauns and invisible rabbit men on the lam, and of kids who can see fairies, also kids who are science experiments and must constantly solve riddles. Scott (full name Scottish Play Doe) is new in town, and he's still seeing weird stuff. Then he meets twins Erno and Emily, who make his life seem downright normal. Both families have connections to Goodco Cereal Company, a place that is obvious eeee-vil in a mad scientist sort of way.

Pretty soon Scott is harboring a runaway leprechaun who says he's actually a clurichaun, and Emily and Erno are trying to avoid the people who apparently made their foster father disappear. Their baby sitter, who just might be Bigfoot, makes a really good ally.

I am currently reading The True Meaning of Smekday, and so far, I like it more than Cold Cereal. Still, Cold Cereal is a nice race around town with a giddy mash-up of mad scientists and legendary creatures to chase and rescue our heroic kid trio, respectively.

As a very big fan of good metaphors, I was especially happy to watch how the author threw these into the cereal bowl. Here are a few samples:

Laughter was batted back and forth like a squeaky balloon [in the classroom]...

...a seat right up front [in the bus], on which sat one very small and delicately pale eggshell of a girl. And exactly no one else.

Erno was a lean and rumpled kid—his clothes, which looked fine on their hangers, always looked on Erno as if he'd found them in the road on the way to school.

Mr. Wilson had the uncomfortable half smile of someone who was being forced to sit quietly while people sang "Happy Birthday" at him.

[About school lunches:] It so happened that they were serving pizza, or more accurately a kind of impersonation of it, as though the whole concept of pizza had been rather poorly explained to the cafeteria workers by people who'd only read about it in books and didn't really like children much.

As you can see, Rex is a dab hand at satire, and you'll find nice little pockets of it at regular intervals, including his terribly funny renderings of cereal commercials, which are illustrated in sequence.

The author lost me a few times in backstory, but really, his book is just a lot of fun—with a sequel or two clearly in the works. Go, Rex! And go, Madly Humorous Duo (or Trio)!

See Adam Rex's website, especially his blog.

A Review of Earwig and the Witch by Diana Wynne Jones

Did you watch the movie, Howl's Moving Castle? It was based, of course, on a book by British fantasy writer extraordinaire, Diana Wynne Jones (see my overview of her work in this post from 2009). To the sorrow of many reader fans, Ms. Jones passed away last year after losing her fight with cancer. Earwig and the Witch, published January 31, 2012 in the U.S., is, as far as I know, her last book.

Earwig and the Witch is for younger middle grade readers and is a very slim read, but it packs a lot in a few short pages. In fact, I'm pretty sure you will find yourself wishing for a sequel once you hit the last page. In her signature style, Jones pops magic into a rather ordinary contemporary world. Meet Earwig, a girl who was left at the orphanage as a baby with the following note:

Got the other twelve witches all chasing me. I'll be back for her when I've shook them off. It may take years. Her name is Earwig.

The Matron promptly changed the baby's name to Erica, but it turned back to Earwig easily enough.

Earwig's best friend is a timid boy named Custard. Earwig does not want to be adopted, considering she has the whole orphanage running just how she likes it. So she is not pleased when she is adopted—by a towering man with horns only she can see and a woman with a "raggety, ribby look to her face."

Sure enough, the man is really a Mandrake and the woman is a witch looking for cheap labor. When Earwig figures out that Bella Yaga has no intention of teaching her any magic, she sets out to rearrange things. Then readers will start to understand that Earwig didn't control the orphanage with boring old magic, but by being a very clever child. Of course, it helps that she has a magic cat to help her in her new abode. (A close read will reveal glimpses of the Baba Yaga story in the bones of this one.) Here's Earwig's first supper with the Mandrake:

To Earwig's surprise, the kitchen was an ordinary kitchen, quite warm and cozy... Earwig looked at the Mandrake. He was looming in a chair at the end of the table, reading a large leather book. He looked like an ordinary man in a bad temper. Even so, he did not look like a man who would have gotten supper ready.

"And what have the demons brought us today?" Bella Yaga asked in the bright, wheedling voice she always seemed to use to the Mandrake.

"Pie and chips from Stoke-on-Trent station buffet," the Mandrake growled, without looking up.

"I hate station pie," said Bella Yaga.

The Mandrake looked up . His eyes were like dark pits. A spark of red fire glowed, deep down in each pit. "It's my favorite food," he said. The sparks in his eyes flickered and grew.

Earwig quite understood then why she was not to disturb the Mandrake.

The book has pen-and-ink illustrations by Caldecott winner Paul O. Zelinsky. They are a bit twisty and often show Earwig scowling, but then, she is a witch girl. (Her face does soften when she's petting Thomas the cat.) My favorite piece is an entire spread showing a sort of time-lapse look at Earwig rushing around the witch's workroom working on a spell—we see 11 versions of Earwig by my count.

Earwig and the Witch could have been longer, it could happily have been three books about Earwig instead of just one, but it's not. Still, Earwig and the Witch is something very nice indeed: the treasure of one last satisfying read from the marvelous Ms. Jones.

Note: I have included both the British and U.S. covers for your reference (above left and above right, respectively). Which do you like best?

Six Cool Picture Books

I'll admit it: I'm a picture book snob. I go down to my not-so-independent nearby bookstore and look through all the new picture books, turning up my nose at a lot of them because the stories and artwork are too bland or too cutesy. But sometimes I come across treasures. And sometimes I discover treasures elsewhere, most often when they are recommended by other children's book bloggers. So for those of you who told me about these books, thank you!


The Boy Who Cried Ninja, written and illustrated by Alex Latimer

Ever get tired of that Aesop's fable, "The Boy Who Cried Wolf"? Silly boy, cranky villagers, right? Well, get a load of South African Alex Latimer's new-fangled take on the tale, with its clean, retro-mod illustrations. When Tim tells his parents the truth about the trouble going on around his house, they don't believe him. A ninja stole the last piece of cake, an astronaut took his dad's hammer, a giant squid—yeah, right. Frustrated, Tim decides to lie, but that doesn't work out too well, either. Finally he comes up with a plan for setting things straight. I will refrain from telling you how virtue is finally rewarded, but you really should get ahold of this subversive, tongue-in-cheek book.


The Camping Trip that Changed America by Barb Rosenstock, illustrated by Mordecai Gerstein

President Theodore Roosevelt was an outdoorsman, everyone knows that. But did you know he once went camping with John Muir in Yosemite? Why? Because Muir was a famous naturalist, and Roosevelt wanted to know more about America's wilderness. At stake was the potential creation of national parks and forests. The two men traveled by horseback and were caught in a spring snowstorm, but they had a wonderful time, and President Roosevelt worked very hard afterwards to preserve the nation's natural treasures. One word of caution: though notes about the trip were available, they did not include sufficient dialogue, and the author did invent fireside conversations between the two men. I think she's done a marvelous job of writing this important, little-known story; just be sure your students or children understand the ways in which it is, as Rosenstock says in her very helpful author's note, "based in truth." Old hand Mordecai Gerstein illustrates the account with his loose and appealing watercolor style.


Just a Second, written and illustrated by Steve Jenkins

Not since Hazel Hutchins and Kady MacDonald Denton's A Second Is a Hiccup has somebody made such a beautiful book about time. Only, where Hutchins and Denton used analogies from the world of humans, Jenkins not unexpectedly uses the world of animals. So just what can animals do in one second?

A vulture in flight flaps its wings once. A pygmy shrew's heart beats 14 times. A bat makes 200 high-pitched calls. A rattlesnake shakes its tail in warning 60 times. A hummingbird beats its wings 50 times. A bumblebee beats its wings 200 times. A midge, a kind of gnat, beats its wings 1,000 times. A woodpecker hammers a tree with its beak 20 times.

And that's just the first page! Using his signature bright backdrops and collage animals, Jenkins gives us more "one second" examples before going on to talk about what animals—and plants and planets—do in one minute, one hour, one day, one week, one month, and one year. He throws in an extra spread called "Very Quick" for things that happen in even less than a second. I once looked all over the place for information about the speed at which a frog zaps and swallows an insect (and had trouble finding that fact); here Jenkins tells us that the Shasta salamander "can snap up an insect in 1/100 of a second." The author/illustrator also gives us "Very Long," including "an ocean quahog, a clam, [that] lived to be 405 years old...." and he throws in a history of the universe (on one page!), Earth's human population growth from 1750 to a projected 2050, plus an extra chart about plant and animal life spans. Pretty stuff, and pretty fascinating!


The Princess and the Pig by Jonathan Emmett, illustrated by Poly Bernatene

Have you heard about this one? Princess and pig, switched at birth. Call it class warfare if you like, but I call it funny. The way the court treats the pig princess, the reluctance of the human girl to switch back—all a hoot. You will no doubt get a kick out of the way the king and queen justify having a pig for a daughter: "'A bad fairy has done this,' [the king] explained. 'The fairy wasn't invited to the princess's christening, so she's turned the baby into a piglet to get her revenge. It's the sort of thing that happens all the time in books.'" (He holds a copy of Sleeping Beauty in his hands as he says this, natch.) Then again, the farmer's wife gives a similar explanation when a baby girl appears in the back of her husband's cart. It is only years later that the farmer and his wife finally figure out what really happened... The book is made all the more terrific by Bernatene's strong acrylic illustrations, which are a touch cartoonish, but still dimensional enough to give proper heft to this clever piggy tale.


Precious Little by Julie Hunt and Sue Moss, illustrated by Gaye Chapman

I'll be frank: I think this book is mostly for grown-ups. But an artistic, thoughtful child will like looking at the pictures. (Probably for 8 and up.) The story takes us to the circus, where the real stars are the highly decorative illustrations and even the way the words are often turned sideways like contortionists. The plot is slim—a rather uncoordinated young circus-hand named Precious Little wants to fly with the acrobats, the Light Fantastics, but can't seem to get the hang of it. Eventually two kindly clowns help her to fulfill her dream, though readers may feel at that point that Precious is simply dreaming, or that the story has turned into some kind of allegory or fantasy. Don't worry too much about it. Just check out the slightly new agey and very lovely artwork. (Bonus: gold glitter on the cover!)


What Animals Really Like, written and illustrated by Fiona Robinson

Back in November, I reviewed "Picture Books to Look Forward To," and one of my favorites was Bingham and Zelinsky's Z Is for Moose, due out in February. What Animals Really Like has a similar premise, and I like it just as much. Where Z Is for Moose has a zebra directing animals (and other items) in an alphabet book, What Animals Really Like gives us an even more high-strung beaver directing a new song. Each group of animals stands on a stage in concert dress and sings about what their species likes to do. We start off with the following lines:

We are lions, and we like to prowl.
We are wolves, and we like to howl.
We are pigeons, and we like to coo.
We are cows, and we like to...

Page turn, and the cows chorus, "dig," whipping out a bunch of shovels and hardhats.

"Dig?" the baffled beaver director asks, and pretty soon he has a full-scale rebellion on his hands, or rather paws. The warthogs like to blow enormous bubbles and the shrimp like to ski—when the beaver doubts them, they show off photos from their trip to Switzerland. ("Say, you had great weather," remarks a kangaroo, who likes playing Ping-Pong.)

Robinson paces her running joke about being true to yourself with panache, adding small twists and turns along the way. Watch in particular how the animals go from standing stiffly, looking bored, to cavorting enthusiastically as they share their passions. This is a thoroughly excellent concert program, highlighted by straight man and director Mr. Herbert Timberteeth's various states of dismay. Robinson's distinctive style gives What Animals Really Like a fresh look, in pleasing contrast to the many more traditional-looking picture books out there.

Hans, the Blog Tour

Yep, I'm doing a blog tour for my new picture book, Hans My Hedgehog, pub date right this very day, January 24th. (Woo-hoo!)

I am very pleased that Hans has garnered four great reviews, two of them starred (Kirkus and Publisher's Weekly). In addition, it was featured in a New York Times Book Review, along with two other prickly books.

Thanks very much to all my kind bloggy hosts. I will list the tour schedule for you here, adding the specific links as they come in. That way, you can learn more about the retelling of Grimms' fairy tales in general and my work in particular than you ever thought possible, all in about a week!

Monday, 1/23—Interview by Sybil Nelson at The Enchanted Inkpot

Tuesday, 1/24—Review and interview by Heidi Grange at Geo Librarian

Wednesday, 1/25—Review and giveaway by Linda Gerber at her cool YA author's blog; review by Jennifer Wharton at Jean Little Library

Thursday, 1/26—Interview by Jennifer Wharton at Jean Little Library

Friday, 1/27—Review by Anamaria Anderson at Books Together Blog

Monday, 1/30—Interview by Miranda Paul at her author's blog

Tuesday, 1/31—Author Anastasia Suen spotlights Hans and asks just 3 questions at Booktalking


Thanks also to Charlotte's Library for her post about Google Analytics and hedgehogs, including Hans. Check out the darling baby hedgehog photos!

Here's an intriguing tidbit about urchins and hedgehogs at Children's Literature Network, Snipp Snapp Snute by Lise Lunge-Larsen. She likes the look of Hans.

This post at VoVatia is from last August, but it has some excellent additional "Hans My Hedgehog" art and insights, not to mention a very nice comment from Amy about my then-upcoming book. (Link through if only to see Maurice Sendak's version of Hans.)

A note on Hans's size, which the VoVatia post questions: One of my editors did point out that Hans had to be small enough to ride a rooster, but large enough to dance with a princess. My response was that the story was originally told orally, without illustrations. I'm guessing the size issue slipped right past most of those long-ago listeners! (Except for some smart-aleck kid. There's always one in every village.) I also said, with rather callous accuracy, that the illustrator was going to have to use perspective and other art tricks to make Hans's size work in the book. And he did!

Note: Back to our regular programming this Saturday with picture book reviews.

ALA Book Awards

Yesterday was huge, HUGE! That is, in the world of children's books. I will give a shout-out to Twitter here: it's the fastest way to find out the winners of the ALA book awards, hands-down!

Now, I'll draw a rather snowy veil over the busyness of last night and list some of the winners here this morning. For more honor awards and a few I had trouble finding, please visit the ALA book and media awards page.

If you were expecting Gary D. Schmidt's Okay for Now to win the Newbery, think again! Jack Gantos won with Dead End in Norvalt. Honors went to Inside Out and Back Again by Thanha Lai and Breaking Stalin's Nose by Eugene Yelchin.

The Caldecott Award winner is A Ball for Daisy by Chris Raschka, though I was pleased to see my personal favorite get an Honor: Me...Jane by Patrick McDonnell. Other Honor books are Blackout by John Rocco and Grandpa Green by Lane Smith. Lovely books, all!

The Geisel (Dr. Seuss) Award for easy readers goes to Tales for Very Picky Eaters by Josh Schneider, with Honors to Mo Willems' I Broke My Trunk, Jon Klassen's I Want My Hat Back, and Paul Meisel's See Me Run.

The Sibert Award for nonfiction is awarded to Balloons over Broadway: The True Story of the Puppeteer of Macy's Parade by Melissa Sweet. I really want to read that one! The Honor list includes Black & White: The Confrontation between Reverend Fred L. Shuttlesworth and Eugene "Bull" Connor by Larry Dane Brimner, Drawing from Memory by Allen Say, Witches! The Absolutely True Tale of Disaster in Salem by Rosalyn Schauzerand, and The Elephant Scientist, written by Caitlin O'Connell and Donna M. Jackson with photos by O'Connell and Timothy Rodwelland.

The Schneider Family Award, given to outstanding books about kids with disabilities, goes to Close to Famous by Joan Bauer (reviewed here last spring) and Wonderstruck: A Novel in Words and Pictures by Brian Selznick in the Middle School category. The Teen winner is The Running Dream by Wendelin Van Draanen.

The Pura Belpré Award for excellent fiction featuring Latinos is given separately to authors and illustrators. The author winner this year is Guadalupe Garcia McCall for her book Under the Mesquite. The illustrator winner is Duncan Tonatiuh for Diego Rivera: His World and Ours.

The Coretta Scott King Award author award winner is Kadir Nelson for Heart and Soul: The Story of America and African Americans. The illustrator award winner is Shane W. Evans for Underground: Finding the Light to Freedom.

For teen fiction, our Printz award winner is Where Things Come Back by John Corey Whaley, with Honors awarded to Daniel Handler's Why We Broke Up, Christine Hinwood's The Returning, Craig Silvey's Jasper Jones, and Maggie Stiefvater's The Scorpio Races. A good year for YA titles!

I was disappointed that Franny Billingsley's Chime didn't win an award, but fantasy is often a long shot at the ALA's. The only one I see here at a glance is The Scorpio Races.

The good news is that we have so many wonderful new books to read!

Queen's Thief Week at Chachic's Book Nook

One of the most intelligent, dimensional, and rewarding MG/YA fantasy series out there today is Megan Whalen Turner's Queen's Thief books: thus far The Thief (a Newbery Honor winnter), The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, and A Conspiracy of Kings. Thanks to Chachic of Chachic's Book Nook, you can read all about it during Queen's Thief Week, jump starting yesterday but officially posting January 22-28.

Her first guest post is by noted fantasy author Sherwood Smith, whose Crown Duel and other books are also favorites of mine. Though there are a few spoilers, Sherwood manages to keep them to a minimum as she gives a brilliant analysis of the four books.

Today's guest post is by Checkers from Sounis. I'll translate that: Checkers is one of the moderators at the series fan blog. Her gift to you is a really great list of SFF books recommended by Sounis participants over the past few years. (I can't even begin to describe how smart this bunch of Queen's Thief fans are!)

For those of you who haven't tried the books, they tend to read like historical fiction with just a touch of fantasy. Well, the world-building certainly qualifies them as fantasy; Turner has created a group of kingdoms centered around a sort of Byzantine Greece, complete with gods who make themselves known occasionally, to the chagrin of people like her main character. The author's greatest gifts are elaborate plots, rich characterization, and a subtle sense of humor. Follow Gen (Eugenides) from prisons to palaces in this complex, challenging, and utterly satisfying series.

Of course, the fun over at CBN will continue for another six days. Thank you, Chachic!

Update: Guest posts by Melina Marchetta, Sarah Rees Brennan, and even Megan Whalen Turner herself! Not to mention posts from uber-fans Holly and Angie, who are also bloggers of note. Don't miss the comments, which include dialogue between Marchetta and Turner about being tourists in Rome, among other cool conversations.

Retellings Beautiful and Beastly

Classifying Fairy Tales

On Tuesday my new picture book retelling of a Grimms' fairy tale, Hans My Hedgehog, is coming out, so I thought I'd tell you a little about its history and a lot about the retelling of a more famous story, "Beauty and the Beast." What is the history of a particular fairy tale, and how did it come to take its current shape?

Folklorists actually classify the stories into types, which make sense when you realize how many variations of the same basic plot can be found in different countries. Stories have traveled the world with traders and immigrants for centuries. For example, you can find Cinderella variations set in China, Egypt, Ireland, Mexico, and the American South, among other regions and lands. The most well-known approach to classifying folk and fairy tales is the Aarne-Thompson system, first published by Finnish folklorist Antti Aarne in 1910 and revised more than once by American Stith Thompson.

For example, under Animal Tales, Wild Animals, we have 99 story types, including notable offerings like "Biting the foot" (#7) and "Calling the three tree names" (#9). Some story types are found in more than one country, such as "Search for the lost husband" (#425A), listed under Supernatural or Enchanted Relatives, Husband, and found in Romanian, Scottish, Italian, Spanish, Norwegian, Greek, and Mexican variations.

"Hans My Hedgehog" also falls under Supernatural or Enchanted Relatives, Husband (#441), "In enchanted skin." According to noted folklorist Jack Zipes, the Grimms mostly used a version recounted to them orally by a woman named Dorothea Viehmann, who was married to a tailor and lived in a village near Kassel in Germany. There are other German versions, however, such as "The Wild Boar" and "The Bristly Child." (Zipes, The Great Fairy Tale Tradition, Norton 2001.)


From Apuleius to Cocteau

"Beauty and the Beast" has a more complex history. Did you know it was based on Roman (and therefore, quite possibly Greek) mythology? Now it has an AT classification of #425C (also Supernatural or Enchanted Relatives, Husband), but it first comes to our attention as a story told in a book called The Golden Ass by Roman writer Apuleius (second century AD). The couple in the story are Cupid (Eros) and Psyche. You can get a picture book retelling of Cupid and Psyche by M. Charlotte Craft, illustrated by Kinuko Y. Craft. (Though you may dislike the theme of "curious girls get in big trouble.")

The story of Cupid and Psyche was reinvented in France by La Fontaine, by Coneille and Molière as a play/ballet, and in at least five variations by Madame D'Aulnoy in the late 1600s. At the time, fairy tale retellings were very fashionable among wealthy Parisians. In fact, Madame D'Aulnoy coined the name "fairy tales" with the publication of one of her books, "Les Contes de Fées" (1697).

Next to adapt the tale was Madame Gabreille de Villaneuve, whose version set the standard for the plot as we recognize it. Three more French adapters tried their hand at the story: Madame Leprince de Beumont, Countess de Genlis—who reinvented it as a play called Beauty and the Monster (1785), and Jean-François Marmontel—who made it the libretto of an opera scored by André Modeste Grétry (1788). (Sources: Zipes again, plus Wiki.) Is this all starting to blur together for you? Suffice it to say, the story was told and retold in literary versions in France for about a century, and this was all back when Walt Disney's twice-great-grandfather was still a twinkle in his thrice-great-grandfather's eye.

What's lost here, of course, is the storyteller who told the tale to listeners around the fire before Roman writer Apuleius came along. Though I suspect Madame D'Aulnoy's tale, "The Ram," was at least partly responsible for transforming a hunky Greek god into a misshapen beast.

Keep in mind, then, that when we talk about purity of sources, we are looking at two long series of transformations—one taking place in the oral storytelling tradition (making its way across continents) and the other taking place in the literary fairy tale tradition, exemplified by collectors/adapters such as the Brothers Grimm, Madame D'Aulnoy, Norwegians Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, and another famous French reteller, Charles Perrault.

My favorite variant of "Beauty and the Beast" is actually the Norwegian story retold by Asbjørnsen and Moe, "East of the Sun and West of the Moon." As another folklorist, Maria Tatar, explains, "'Unlike the French 'Beauty and the Beast,' this tale includes a coda in which the daughter has to undertake a journey, outwit a rival, and demonstrate her domestic worthiness" (Tatar, The Annotated Classic Fairy Tales, Norton 2002). The quest in "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" gives us a more active and determined heroine, even if it does end up with her having a shirt-washing contest with a troll princess. (There's magic and blood involved, which helps.)

Jumping to the 20th and 21st centuries, we find the famous French film version by Jean Cocteau (1946). And of course, a number of picture book and MG/YA retellings.


Beauty and the Beast

MERCER MAYER is best known for his book, There's a Nightmare in My Closet, his Little Critter stories, and his illustrations for John D. Fitzgerald's Great Brain Books, but he also illustrated fairy tales, including this one. Mayer does interesting, contemporary things with perspective, cinematically thrusting characters' faces into the foreground in certain spreads. The work is ornate and intense, full of twisted trees and the suffering of a lion-like Beast. The storytelling is detailed and appealing. A classic retelling of the tale, especially as compared to some of the more docile later versions.

British author-artist JAMES MAYHEW illustrated a retelling by PHILLIPA PEARCE. Mayhew's soft-edged style emphasizes the mystery and enchantment of the tale. Like Mayer's, his Beast is leonine, only with a lot more mane. The final spread is especially nice. Pearce's retelling is clear enough to work as a read-aloud for relatively young children.

Yes, it's a JAN BRETT book without decorative borders! This retelling (by the illustrator) is more mannered than some of the others, with nice touches like all of the servants being animals. In a move away from the lion approach, Brett's Beast is a boar, which makes him extra beastly. A single piece of silhouette art about three-fourths of the way in works well. And take a look at those gowns and hairstyles! I found it interesting that the story is told in summary until the merchant steals the rose, when we start getting some dialogue. The retelling is competent, though the illustrations are better.

ANGELA BARRETT is one of my favorite illustrators. Her Beauty and the Beast is retold by Brit Max Eilenberg at some length, entrancingly. The artwork is often small, serving as a backdrop to the text, but when the larger pieces come they tend to be striking. Barrett makes her Beast a narrow, black, cat-like creature with a touch of demon and a sweeping brush of tail. Be sure to look at some of the details of the strange home the artist envisions for the Beast. (See illustration above.)

Well-known middle grade fantasy writer LAWRENCE YEP teamed up with illustrator KAM MAK to give us a Chinese version of the story, The Dragon Prince. The beast here is an enchanted dragon prince and, in a motif that turns up in other folktales, one of the heroine's malicious sisters manages to take her place for a time. Yep is a very good storyteller, of course.

There is also a small edition of the Beauty and the Beast story retold by SAMANTHA EASTON and illustrated by RUTH SANDERSON. (Sanderson is known for painting from live models, ordinary people.) I'm not crazy about the trim size and the retelling isn't particularly amazing, but some of the paintings are quite nice. Sanderson goes with the lion look for her Beast.

BARRY MOSER teams up with Nancy Willard (who won the Newbery in 1982 for her poetry collection, A Visit to William Blake's Inn) to create a novella-length Beauty and the Beast. Moser's stark pen-and-ink pieces give a darker feel to the story than it would otherwise have. Some of them resemble portraits—the Beast reminds me of Mr. Hyde and is the scariest in this entire bunch of books. Naturally, Willard's retelling is masterful.

Recognized paper artist ROBERT SABUDA has done "A Pop-up Book of the Classic Tale," an intricate rendering with a stained glass look.

As for MG/YA versions, Newbery medalist Robin McKinley has retold the story twice, once in Beauty and again in Rose Daughter. Alex Flinn sets the tale in a modern city with her book, Beastly (recently made into a movie), while Donna Jo Napoli chooses a Persian—and then French—setting for Beast, a mature retelling recommended for older teens.


East of the Sun, West of the Moon

MERCER MAYER illustrated the Norwegian version of this story, as well, with his wife Marianna doing the retelling. The paintings, one per spread, are rich and show a Russian/Eastern European influence. Some have a slightly static feel, more decorative than active, but others have more drama, and all combine beautifully to do the story justice. Mayer's troll princess is priceless, and his wife's retelling is clear and compelling. I was surprised to note that Mayer deliberately went with part of "The Frog Prince" in the early pages of the story rather than using the more traditional Norwegian bear as an alarming bridegroom.

P.J. LYNCH has done some beautiful illustrations for classics such as A Christmas Carol and The Gift of the Magi and for fairy tales such as The Snow Queen and The Steadfast Tin Soldier. (His artwork for Amy Hest's When Jessie Came Across the Sea is also lovely.) Note that the retelling is straight from Asbjørnsen and Moe, or at least, from the 1859 translation by Sir George Webb Dasent. It's a more detailed rendition than we might expect to see today, but it's very well done. There's a rather pensive feel to Lynch's heroine, and his North Wind practically storms off the page. I also like the striking use of the polar bear and an illustration that shows the lassie alone in a dark wood. As for the troll princess, she actually gives Mayer's troll a run for her money. Watch for the shirt-washing scene, where the spread is positively overflowing with hideous trolls.

BARRY MOSER worked with Nancy Willard again on this story, or rather play. The little-known script in book form is 61 pages long and could, of course, be acted out by a school class. Some of the dialogue is written in rhyme. It's a quirky but well-crafted version of the tale.

GISELLE POTTER illustrated a Greek variation of "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" that I've mentioned on Book Aunt in the past, Mr. Semolina-Semolinus. The retellers are Anthony L. Manna and Christodoula Mitakidou. After a unique start which completely bypasses the beast section—replacing it with a princess named Areti who cooks up her own boyfriend out of semolina, sugar, and almonds—we get the last section of the Norwegian story, more or less. Areti goes on an arduous quest to save her beloved from the selfish queen who has stolen him. This clever, slyly funny and rollicking tale makes a few words go a long way.

LAUREL LONG and JACQUELINE K. OGBURN tell the story with a twist, too, in The Lady and the Lion, illustrated by Long. (See also their previous collaboration, a gorgeous tale called The Magic Nesting Doll.) Lush, Middle Eastern-inspired paintings complement a story in which an evil enchantress kidnaps the lion after he is turned back to a man. The lady rescues her prince in a rather truncated version of the quest and confrontation from the Asbjørnsen and Moe version. You'll find that Ogburn's retelling is more spare than some of the others in this pleasing take on the Beauty and the Beast story. (See illustration above.)

Ice by Sarah Beth Durst, East by Edith Patou, and Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George are three notable MG/YA versions of "East of the Sun, West of the Moon."


And So...

Traditionally, the story of Beauty and the Beast has been used to teach girls to be self-sacrificing or to stifle their curiosity. The Romans and then the French certainly seemed to appreciate those lessons. In our day, we emphasize Beauty's loyalty to and patience with an unappealing, unhappy young man. The meta-lesson has been said to be about the so-called gentle sex taming the rougher one, but ultimately, I think we as a culture love the story for reasons of simple human kindness. And don't forget Beauty's courage!

As for Hans My Hedgehog, he's a close cousin to Beauty's Beast, only his story includes more peasant humor and class conflict. (The original shows a king tricking Hans because he can't read.) What kind of girl would marry a young man who is half hedgehog? An honorable one. And the princess's integrity pays off when the spell on her prickly husband is broken.

All of us feel like beasts sometimes, and all of us hope to be loved for our hearts, for the truth of who we are. Perhaps any time two people form a match, the answer for men and women alike is to look for beauty within the beast.

Update: Two more books have come up in the comments. Thanks to Rebecca Donnelly for reminding me of a Barefoot Books version of "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" (with two other tales mixed in) called The Princess and the White Bear King, retold by Tanya Robin Batt and illustrated by Nicoletta Cecolli. And Megan tells us about East of the Sun & West of the Moon, retold and illustrated by László Gál, which she says is very colorful and dreamy.