A Thousand Words

Thank you, Brian Selznick. Well, actually, I'm sure I can't ascribe the relatively recent ascendancy of graphic novels and other books with important visual elements entirely to him, or rather to his award-winning, about-to-be-a-movie The Invention of Hugo Cabret, but it sure as Dante's Inferno didn't hurt. Shaun Tan helped, too, I'm sure of it. Oh, and Marvel Comics. Don't forget them. Plus Marjane Satrapi and Shannon, Dean, and Nathan Hale. Not to mention Jarrett J. "I Can't Spell His Name without Looking but at Least I Can Spell Scieszka" Krosoczka. At any rate, we're seeing some really wonderful graphic novels and variations thereof.


The Last Dragon by Jane Yolen, illustrated by Rebecca Guay

One that has been received with less fanfare than I would like is The Last Dragon. Apparently Jane Yolen had a great time creating Foiled (2010) because she's back with another GN, though it has a very different style. Foiled was low fantasy, but The Last Dragon is good old, glorious high fantasy, complete with village blacksmiths and herbalists and that titular dragon. The book has been published for the adult fantasy market, by the way, but it has definite YA appeal—and nothing in particular to worry parents of teens, if you don't count the baby who gets eaten by a dragon (offstage).

Despite the book's traditional trappings and its lush look, created by Rebecca Guay, it is not your great-grandmother's fairy tale. Oh, it reads like a fairy tale, but Yolen throws in some semi-scathing ideas about what makes a hero, or how a real hero might be made: from encouragement, foolhardiness, and kite strings.

Our story begins in a far-off land, on the island known as Meddlesome, where, unbeknownst to humans, the very last dragon's egg has stirred and begun to hatch. Meanwhile, a village herbalist is raising three daughters—practical, dour Rosemary; beautiful, empty-headed Sage; and talented, disobedient Tansy, who is a trial to her mother.

When Tansy and her father discover a plant called fireweed or flamewort, they dismiss the legends that say it only grows when dragons are around. Then Tansy's father disappears, and Tansy wonders if the legends might be true. At last the dragon is sighted; it has quickly developed a taste for humans and their beasts. The villagers gather rather hopelessly to plan their defense. One strategy is to send some of the village boys by boat to the mainland to fetch back a hero.

Naturally, the boys find all sorts of liars and thieves. At last they find a man who looks like a hero, but it's up to Tansy to shape this con artist into the real thing. And there is still the dragon to be defeated, one way or another.

Yolen's text is well paced and well written, as always. Guay's artwork flows beautifully around the words, burnished in dull golds and greens with touches of red throughout, so that the whole thing appears to have been painted on parchment.

Here's an excerpt from early in the story:

The isles ran red and dark with dragon blood till all of them were gone.

Or so the humans believed.

Two hundred years later:

At sunset the low tide scrapes the beach, pulling cold fingers through the sand and rock.

One great mother tree, older than the long-ago dragons, feels her roots loosening. Slowly, like a mountain, she falls with a crash into the water, giving up her adopted child, the egg she has cradled for so long.

This book is more for the fantasy lover than for the comic book crowd, though hero Lancot is deliberately drawn in ironic imitation of all those chesty superheroes. Overall, The Last Dragon is rendered as if it were a retelling of a lost fairy tale. The first few pages evoke medieval manuscripts, in fact. It's a beautiful book, and it's going on the shelf with my growing collection of excellent graphic novels.

Anya's Ghost by Vera Brosgol

This YA graphic novel is garnering starred reviews right and left, and no wonder. Anya's Ghost is a perfect rendering of what it means to be an outsider, or at least, to feel like one, which is more to the point. The book also has fascinating things to say about crushes and being true to oneself.

Anya is a Russian immigrant who's trying very hard not to come across like one. Having arrived in the U.S. in kindergarten, she has dropped her accent and learned to blend in. She tries very hard to avoid a more recent Russian immigrant, Dima, hoping she won't be lumped in with him.

After an embarrassing incident at school, Anya flees into a little wooded area and falls into a deep hole. At the bottom, she isn't just frightened by her predicament; she discovers a skeleton and meets the ghost of another girl who fell down the hole and was never found.

It will give you an idea of Brosgol's humor to learn that when Anya's shouting brings a teenage boy to the top of her prison and she yells, "HEY, GET HELP! GET SOMEBODY! I'M HURT!" he calls down, "Are you a hot chick? You kind of sound like a hot chick." Anya makes a priceless face and then replies, "Incredibly hot. You cannot even begin to imagine."

Thanks to a little bone that has somehow gotten in her backpack, Anya's ghost follows her home. At first the ghost seems sweet, telling Anya her sad tale of a soldier boyfriend lost in the war, a vicious attack on her family, and that fateful fall down the hole. Emily begins to help Anya with her tests in school and with getting the attention of Anya's crush, a basketball player. She even pushes Anya to get invited to a party where Sean will be and helps her pick out an outfit. A really slutty outfit.

Huh? Is this simply a matter of bad taste? Well, no. Let's just say that Emily is not quite the person she said she was, and it may not be easy to get rid of her. Watch out, Anya—you've been haunted!

I don't know which I like more, the ghost plot or the way the rest of Anya's life is portrayed, from her mother studying for the citizen test to her quarrel with best friend Siobhan and her fears about being fat. No, wait, I love Brosgol's depiction of the horrors of high school gym class!

Anya's Ghost is a fresh and perfectly aimed story about teenage fears. I'm sure someone could have a field day with the symbolism of the ghost as the dark side of any girl, let alone Anya, but you don't need to go all "literary analysis" to enjoy this terrific graphic novel. Just relish the storytelling. And make sure there aren't any finger bones in your backpack.

Note for Worried Parents: There is quite a bit of smoking in this book, also a teen party and a boy who obviously uses girls sexually. Everything is handled tastefully, however, with a positive message about not caving to peer pressure or trying to please a boy.

The Chronicles of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg and a bunch of illustrious writers

As Lemony Snicket explains in his introduction, for many years, teachers have used The Mysteries of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg as a set of great story starters. The book is a collection of marvelous illustrations, each with a cryptic sentence or two that just begs for more.

Here, in this new volume, is the more. That is, some bright soul got the idea of having a group of well-respected authors write short stories to go with the mysterious illustrations. The writers are, in order of appearance in the book, Lemony Snicket (introduction), Tabitha King (Stephen's wife), Jon Scieszka (told you I could spell it), Sherman Alexie, Gregory Maguire, Cory Doctorow, Jules Feiffer, Linda Sue Park, Walter Dean Myers, Lois Lowry, Kate DiCamillo, M.T. Anderson, Louis Sachar, Chris Van Allsburg himself, and Stephen King.

The phrase "a veritable who's who" comes to mind.

Now, it's been my experience that short story collections tend to contain 1-2 great stories, 4-5 good stories, and several that don't cut it. The Chronicles of Harris Burdick beats this trend to some extent. There aren't any truly rotten stories in the book. However, there are certainly some standouts. The other thing I noticed is that at least half the stories seemed better suited to an adult audience than to kids. Here is a brief commentary on each one:

"Archie Smith, Boy Wonder" by Tabitha King—It may take a few pages for the reader to realize that the narrator is a special needs child, perhaps a boy with Down's Syndrome. This is a lyrical story about baseball, the moon, and imagination, but its beauty may not be appreciated by children as much as it will be by adults.

"Under the Rug" by Jon Scieszka—The mastermind behind the Guys Read project gives us a humorous horror story with unapologetically gruesome boy appeal. It's about a boy, his grandma, and a lump beneath the rug. Also about the way kids clean house, which is to say, not very diligently. Fun suspense with a twist. (See guy wielding chair, below left.)

"A Strange Day in July" by Sherman Alexie—The brother and sister twins in this story aren't at all nice. In fact, as the author points out often, they are strange. But these budding sociopaths, the terrors of the community, may just get their own when they invent another sister. I wouldn't share this tale with anyone under the age of 10, but it is creepy-cool.

"Missing in Venice" by Gregory Maguire—Magical realism blossoms into fantasy in this satisfying story of a boy adrift in Venice, at the mercy of his money-hungry stepmother and her scorpion of a lawyer now that Linus's father has died. When Linus meets the Queen of Gingerbread and steals something from her, everything changes.

"Another Place, Another Time" by Cory Doctorow—An old-fashioned story about a boy whose father goes to sea. It is also about the physics of space and especially time. The science dialogue feels a little dry, but the discovery of the old handcar, which Gilbert and his friends christen Kalamazoo, adds wonder and adventure to the narrative.

"Uninvited Guests" by Jules Feiffer—I wasn't in love with this story of a children's book illustrator whose creations come to life after his wife leaves him and his house catches on fire. What starts out as Alice in Wonderland ends up being about death, with a very adult sensibility.

"The Harp" by Linda Sue Park—I found the message in this one distracting, but maybe kids won't notice. A girl and her sister are trapped in the woods by a wizard who wants to teach them to stop bickering. One of them is turned into a frog, and she has to learn to play the harp. Of course, she can only do this with her sister's help. The other plot strand tells of a very angry boy who has lost his mother.

"Mr. Linden's Library" by Walter Dean Myers—The author does a nice, slow build here. Carol Jenkins visits an old man who lets her borrow his books, but what she really wants to get her hands on is the strange book he is reading. This story may be too quiet for some kids, but I liked it. I was especially pleased by the way Myers wrapped up the story, yet kept the spell of suspense going, just as Van Allsburg's mysterious illustrations do. (See sleeping girl with book, below right.)

"The Seven Chairs" by Lois Lowry—Another one that may read a little older, but a well-told tale for all that. We learn of a group of baby girls who float in their cribs in the year 1928. Only one of them keeps it up, honing her craft over the years. But the most interesting thing about Mary Katherine ("MK") Maguire is that she discovers seven chairs which have the ability to join her in floating. It's odd and fun to follow her as she finds each one. Years later, MK visits a Gothic cathedral. Is there a reason she studied French?

"The Third-Floor Bedroom" by Kate DiCamillo—Again, I feel like this story is for adults or at least for more sophisticated readers. However, it really got me; it's one of my favorites in the collection. We read a series of letters from a girl called Pearlie to her soldier brother. Pearlie is a passionate, angry child who has lost both her parents and feels abandoned by her brother. She stares out the attic window and looks at the birds on the wallpaper, wishing they could fly away. Wishing she could fly away. And then she gets sick. I suppose I wouldn't go so far as to call Pearlie an unreliable narrator, but her shifting perspective sweeps us along in a wonderfully well-crafted way.

"Just Desert" by M.T. Anderson—No, that's not a typo. It's a play on words from Van Allsburg. Anderson's story is thoroughly engrossing and takes a twist I really didn't see coming. But then, we are talking about one of the most creative minds in children's fiction! The ending is pleasingly chilling.

"Captain Tory" by Louis Sachar—A subtly well made and touching story. Captain Tory visits the doughnut shop down by the wharf every morning for a cinnamon doughnut and a cup of coffee. Captain Tory is a ghost. Then one morning he visits the hardware store instead, which pleases Paul. One of the best in the collection, in my opinion.

"Oscar and Alphonse" by Chris Van Allsburg—This one has been anthologized previously. Oscar and Alphonse are caterpillars who spell out words, but only for Alice. Meanwhile, her older brothers and her father are trying to solve a great physics problem, the Farkas Conjecture. Parts of this story may be over young readers' heads, but they'll like the way Alice and her caterpillars are wiser than the grown-ups. The ending hangs rather, but that's what you would expect from the guy who made all those mysterious Harris Burdick illustrations in the first place. (See photo of Allsburg, below left.)

"The House on Maple Street" by Stephen King—I was never a big horror fan, so I didn't get into King's books. Then I read On Writing and was very impressed. So I wasn't surprised by how real this story felt, how odd and enthralling it was. Four children discover something strange about their house in between worrying about their mother's migraines and their stepfather's cold heart. Then oldest boy Trent comes up with a plan to make everything better.

I should mention that The Chronicles of Harris Burdick is beautifully designed, heavy and luxurious. Each story is introduced by a sort of monogrammed HB followed by a smooth book plate version of the illustration. The designer capitalizes on those great brown tones from the original. It's one of the prettier books you'll see this year.

Teacher/Writer Stuff

I have a new day job writing teacher's guides for elementary history books, so I've got curriculum on the brain... Then again, maybe this is more of a writer thing. But it occurs to me that besides using the Harris Burdick pieces as writing prompts with the words, you could get rid of the bits of text and come up with your own. The following are mine, but see if you can write some, too. Or try this with your class!

Warning: Also, don't let your students read the stories in Chronicles if you want to use the Mysteries as writing prompts. Share the new pro stories only after letting kids come up with their own, or they may get derailed.

"Archie Smith, Boy Wonder"—When they were big enough, his dreams escaped.

"Under the Rug"—I tried aiming for the little table, but I couldn't see anything, and the man kept yelling horribly.

"A Strange Day in July"—"They said no fireworks," I reminded her. "That's alright," Lindsey told me, "Watch."

"Missing in Venice"—Grandma couldn't get a building permit.

"Another Place, Another Time"—Henry blew on the sails, and the handcar began to move.

"Uninvited Guests"—Someone had taken the sign down, but I remembered what it said.

"The Harp"—Last time it was a clarinet made from a giant's toe-bone.

"Mr. Linden's Library"—So that's where the briars came from. She kept her eyes shut.

"The Seven Chairs"—Sister Ascenza Ignatius was allowed to float on Tuesdays. This was a Friday.

"The Third-Floor Bedroom"—The first snowflake wandered down from the sky, not to be mistaken for the last bird, which still hadn't arrived.

"Just Desert"—It isn't easy carving a carriage.

"Captain Tory"—"If I call the ship," he asked, "will you tell them Gasche lost the key?"

"Oscar and Alphonse"—When I opened my hand, the magic beans had turned into caterpillars.

"The House on Maple Street"—It was the best Christmas, and the last.

You see? The mysteries continue to call to us. Used the right way, a piece of art can paint words in the air. We may be a little worried about the state of the picture book these days, but never fear: there are people in the world of books who are doing new and wonderful things with pictures.

A Trio of Mice

Earlier this year I wrote a post about two new mouse books, one by Lois Lowry and the other by Cynthia Voigt. I also listed a number of great mouse books already in print.

So. With Halloween right around the corner, just begging to be a blog post, I'm really more in the mood to talk about mice again. Why? Because the great Richard Peck has thrown his hat into the ring of the mouse boxing match. (I wanted to say "mouse circus," but I looked up the origin of "throw your hat into the ring" and discovered it's a boxing expression.) What I mean to say is, Peck has written a mouse book, too: Secrets at Sea.

I have two questions about all of this. One is, why did three of the best children's books writers of all time come out with mouse books this year? The other is, quite frankly, how do the three books compare?

I'll start by summarizing each book for you, with a lot more detail for Peck's story, since his wasn't around for my February post.

Lowry's Bless This Mouse features a tribe of church mice who live in a Catholic church called St. Bartholomew's. Their leader, Hildegarde, must keep her people safe. She must also fend off attempts by a sneaky rival to take her top spot. In order to maintain the status quo, Hildegarde enforces a strict policy of birth control in the mouse population. I know, it sounds like China's Communist oligarchy, but the book is actually light-hearted, the proverbial rollicking read. It turns out Hildegarde faces a bigger threat than Lucretia—the humans have learned of the mice and are planning to exterminate them. Hildegarde decides that the best way to protect her tribe is to evacuate to the outdoors till the danger has passed. Meanwhile, the human parishioners are gearing up for a ceremony in which children bring their pets to be blessed by Father Murphy, a tradition honoring St. Francis of Assissi. Hildegarde takes note of the fact that the church mice are not exactly invited to the blessing of the animals, adding another wrinkle to the story.

Voigt's Young Fredle is a sort of Jonathan Livingston Seagull character. (If you're too young to get that reference, here's the Wiki article.) He's a house mouse living on a farm, but he winds up outside quite by accident and doesn't know how to get back inside to his family. Fredle manages to stay alive, has all sorts of adventures, and becomes such a different person that he no longer fits in with his clan. He learns about snakes, raccoons, reliable and unreliable friends, and the stars. He's a bit of a philosopher, and his growing view of the world permeates the book.

In Richard Peck's Secrets at Sea, Helena and her three younger siblings—Louise, Lamont, and Beatrice—live with a nouveau riche family in turn-of-the-century New York. Our story begins when Louise bursts in with the news that the Cranston household is in an uproar, planning to go on some kind of journey because older daughter Olive "must be given Her Chance." The sisters hardly have time to parse this information before Lamont bursts in, missing his tail.

You get some idea of just how determined and brave Helena is when she makes Lamont take her to the scene of the crime to get that tail back. They make it out alive—barely. Then Helena sits right down and sews Lamont's tail back on.

The little mouse family realizes that the Cranstons intend to take a sea voyage in hopes of finding a fashionable husband for Olive, who appears to be in danger of becoming an old maid. (The teenage Cranston daughter Camilla is actually friends with Louise, which makes Helena nervous.) Following the counsel of her eccentric, oracular Aunt Fannie, Helena and her siblings accompany the Cranstons on their voyage. Once onboard ship, they discover a large number of mice crew and passengers whose behavior quietly mimics that of the human crew and passengers. Helena and her family also intervene in the lives of the Cranstons, who could certainly use the help.

Peck's wording, as always, is perfectly crafted, and his humor is sly and witty. Here are a couple of examples:

We are mice, and as Mother used to say, we are among the very First Families of the land. We were here before the squirrels. The squirrels came for the acorns. We sold them the acorns. (8)

From the rear Lamont looked ridiculous without his complete tail. He paused and put a finger to his chin, though he has no chin. He was stalling. (27)

"Why don't boys ever want to be themselves? Why do boys always want to be somebody else?" asked Louise, who wanted to be Camilla. (124)

As Aunt Fannie points out, Helena has her hands full with her siblings: Louise consorts with humans, Lamont takes wild, life-threatening risks, and Beatrice sneaks out to meet unsuitable mouse boys. Between them and the Cranstons, Helena can hardly keep it all straight. But she's quick on her four little feet, and this ocean voyage promises to be the making of both human and mouse families in unexpected ways.

Humor, action, plot twists, romance: Secrets of Sea has it all, just as you'd hope for when reading the latest from a dab hand like Richard Peck.

Now, let's consider the three books together.

Setting

Bless This Mouse—The church mouse premise and setting makes for some very fun jokes as well as a nice counterpoint between the human and mouse users of the building. Lowry has a good time with things like the mouse-eye view of the stories of the martyrs depicted in the stained glass.

Secrets at Sea—An ocean voyage evocative of the Titanic, only without the iceberg. Throwing mice into this supposedly elegant mix is clever and often funny.

Young Fredle—The farmhouse, barn, and outlying land become an entire universe for a small mouse. This setting is the most realistic of the three, especially the way Voigt uses it.

Anthropomorphizing

Bless This Mouse—Clothes are never mentioned in the text, but the mice are depicted on the book cover and in internal illustrations as wearing clothes, something the author would have had to approve. Hildegarde and her people all talk, and they are aware of human history and doings.

Secrets at Sea—It threw me a little when Helena explained that mice wear clothes in their own homes, but not when out where humans might see them. The mice in this book act like humans in a lot of ways, but must hide from humans and especially from cats.

Young Fredle—No clothing here. The mice in this book really do act like mice, but they do think, and they talk to each other and other animals.

Main Character

Bless This Mouse—Hildegarde is determined and often exasperated, but she has courage and leadership that go for miles, or at least for feet.

Secrets at Sea—Helena has a wonderful, strong voice and you'll be cheering for her every step of the way. She's not perfect: she's bossy and she thinks she's always right. But then, that's a pretty good take on a lot of oldest sisters (I say, speaking as one)! This book is the only one of the three written in first person, which quite suits the story.

Young Fredle—Fredle is a very rich character. It's so easy to put yourself in his place and/or worry about him as he learns about the greater world. Fredle is hopeful and yearning and kind and quite bright, even though he's lacking in all sorts of knowledge.

Suspense/Plot Twists

Bless This Mouse—The peril keeps this plot popping, as do Hildegarde's attempts to deal with everything that comes up. There are two plot twists that you may not see coming.

Secrets at Sea—Peck twists his plot like a pretzel, and the ongoing threat of discovery by humans makes this book a game of cat-and-mouse, sometimes literally.

Young Fredle—Like Fredle, you will never know quite what to expect, though there is some foreshadowing about dangers such as a snake in the barn.

Favorite Scenes

Bless This Mouse—The mousey interpretation of the church and its doings is amusing throughout (e.g., thoughts on the edibility of crayons), but I particularly liked the town meetings Hildegarde holds, filled with interruptions, colorful personalities, and political maneuvering.

Secrets at Sea—There's a lot to love here, but I was especially fond of a scene in which Helena and a little boy with a bed full of contraband sweets face down a mean nanny.

Young Fredle—One of the most intriguing sections of the book has to do with a group of rowdy raccoons who take Fredle prisoner. Their captain finds a fellow thinker in Fredle, but he's perfectly realistic about the likelihood of eating the mouse should other food options fail to present themselves.

Themes and Spirituality

Bless This Mouse—Lowry has interesting things to say about which animals humans value and which they don't. (I suspect the author is a vegetarian, but couldn't find confirmation of that.) Other themes are the importance of community and of focusing on what needs to be done rather than on status. Religion plays a key role in the book, but you will feel you are wrapped in a warm blanket of spirituality rather than being urged to follow any particular tradition.

Secrets at Sea—We are told more than once that mice must live in the moment because their lives are short and indeed, are often cut short. Helena tries to control her siblings and their fates, but she learns to let go in many ways. Another message is that you have to take risks, and just plain take action, to make your life better. On another note, the mouse perspective on human antics makes those interactions seem sillier than ever, for a nice slice of satire.

Young Fredle—This feels like a very philosophical coming-of-age story, but it manages not to preach. What matters most in life? Is surviving all there is to our existence? These are the kinds of questions Voigt raises in her book.

Illustrations

Bless This Mouse—Eric Rohmann is the illustrator. The jacket art shows a handful of very cute mice, with Hildegarde front and center. Interior illustrations, some full page, continue to highlight mouse personalities, focusing on body language and facial expressions. The artwork adds to the book.

Secrets at Sea—Illustrator Kelly Murphy's jacket art shows the four mouse siblings jauntily holding onto some sort of ship's tackle, with the sea in the background. These mice are a bit less cute than the ones in Bless This Mouse, but are still appealing. Interior illustrations do include some full-page spreads. The art is nice, but I didn't pay a lot of attention to it. Peck's words outgunned it at every (page) turn.

Young Fredle—Louise Yates is the illustrator. The cover art makes Fredle look a little too cartoony for my taste, with a touch of Quentin Blake to the style. But having him look up at the stars is nice, as well as thematically correct. He does appear a bit hapless, which also fits. The interior illustrations are sparse, mostly spot art. They actually distracted a little from my experience of the story when I noticed them.

Overall Success

Bless This Mouse—A very fun story. I wasn't sure the ending worked with everything that had come before, but maybe that's just me.

Secrets at Sea—Clever and outrageously entertaining.

Young Fredle—Deeply involving and moving. Fredle instantly leaps to the front of the pack when it comes to animal and even people stories about young people finding their place in the world.

Of course, now that I've done it, I'll admit it's entirely unnecessary to compare these books. I can happily recommend all three for your bookshelf. Unlike the Disney group, this Mouse club consists of exalted company indeed.

So why did three Newbery award-winning authors write mouse books at this stage of their careers? The obvious answer is, to have fun. To take it a little farther, however, I think once you pass a certain point in your life and work, you might just have room for real, I-know-exactly-who-I-am humility. And what could be more humble than a mouse? Through the little voice at the baseboards, these authors give us timeless truths, whether in Lois Lowry's comfortable church lady-running-a-committee persona, Peck's erudite tongue-in-cheek style, or Voigt's yearning, wondering tones.


Note: If you're feeling deprived on the spooky front, please visit my best Halloween post ever, "Enter Three Witches."

I Think Mice Are Rather Nice

Some years ago when I was teaching first grade, I posted Rose Fyleman's classic poem about mice on the wall. I remember one little boy, a kid who thought of himself as very cool, really fell in love with that poem. He used to stand there and read it to himself each morning.

What is it about mice? If we think too hard about it, they're invasive rodents, pests that call for traps and even exterminators. (Hint: Use peanut butter, not cheese.) But they're also awfully cute, with their babyish faces and small, clever bodies. They kind of look like little kids... And of course, there you have it. Which no doubt explains the numerous children's books about anthropomorphized mice!

I was particularly intrigued to note that two very famous children's authors came out with books featuring mice this spring—Lois Lowry and Cynthia Voigt, to be precise. Both of these authors are known for their serious, award-winning work for older middle grade readers. Lois Lowry is the author of the amazing book, The Giver, which won the Newbery in 1994, and of Number the Stars, which won the Newbery in 1990. Cynthia Voigt wrote the also-amazing Tillerman series, including Dicey's Song, the Newbery Award winner in 1983, and A Solitary Blue, a Newbery Honor book in 1984.

More recently, Lowry followed a string of serious books with a giddy tongue-in-cheek fairy tale, The Birthday Ball. And now there's this mouse book. Is she actually... having fun, our Ms. Lowry? And Voigt, of the rather dark, character-driven books—she wrote a mousy confection, too?

But I digress just a titch (mouse-like). Let me tell you about these books.

Bless This Mouse by Lois Lowry, illustrated by Eric Rohmann (April 12, 2011)

This is a sweet book, with a delightful main character in the form of Hildegarde, leader and even pastor of a clan of church mice. The story starts off with Hildegarde reprimanding a flighty young mother mouse for having another litter—too many mice, and the humans will catch on and call for a Great X, an extermination. (No actual mention of birth control, though!) We meet Hildegarde's friend Roderick, who appears to have a crush on Hildegarde. We also meet the thoroughly sniffy Lucretia, who would love to take over Hildegarde's position. And we get to explore the church building and spy on humans such as Father Murphy through mouse eyes, which is very entertaining.

Hildegarde rose from her night nest behind the expression pedal of the pipe organ. She always rose very early, particularly on Sundays, when the organist arrived to practice well before anyone else had entered the church. Sometimes Hildegarde scurried away just as he came up the stairs to the choir loft. But she had never been seen, and he had never noticed her small nest there, just behind the pedal where he placed his foot when he wanted a dramatic increase in volume. Sometimes the expression pedal was called the "swell" pedal because it caused the music to swell gloriously. But Hildegarde thought that was a rather vulgar term.

The Great X isn't Hildegarde's only fear for her people. A more immediate worry is the Blessing of the Animals, an event that will be moved indoors if it rains. An event bringing with it dozens of cats!

Hildegarde is clever, pragmatic, and likable as a main character who provides the narrative viewpoint. It probably won't occur to young readers that if she were human, she would be fifty or sixty. She comes up with plans for rescuing her clan from the various threats that hang over them and implements those plans nicely, with a few twists and turns along the way.

Hildegarde's character, the adventurous escapes from peril, the humor, and the mouse-eye view of the church are definitely the strengths of this book.

A couple of plot turns seem unconvincing, however, including a hint of romance and a final twist that tosses in fantasy elements not previously established. The scene also has Hildegarde acting in a way that seems a little out of character, aside from the general fact that she's courageous. You may find the ending reminiscent of Rabbit Hill by Robert Lawson (1945 Newbery winner) and even Elizabeth Coatsworth's tale, The Cat Who Went to Heaven (1931 Newbery Medalist).

Religion plays a relatively significant role in this book set in a church, so I suppose Bless This Mouse might be less appealing to families who aren't religious. Of course, you can always think of it as simply another setting and subculture in that regard.

I should note that this is a slim book at 152 pages, which will make it a good pick for younger or reluctant readers. I'm guessing 8 to 10 is about the right age range, or you can use it as a read-aloud with second graders.

Bless This Mouse has a few glitches, but it's well crafted and fun. I especially like Hildegarde's solution to those horrible sticky traps. (I used one once while I was living in Chicago. Never again!) Give this cheery little book a try and see what you think!


Young Fredle by Cynthia Voigt, illustrated by Louise Yates (January 11, 2011)

Although humor gleams through this book like the stars which so attract the title character's attention, Voigt quickly moves past cute to write a character-driven story, a coming-of-age tale, an exploration of life and what it means to be—okay, well, not human so much as mouse, but still, Fredle is a hero for the ages.

He reminds me of the boy Jonas in Lowry's The Giver in some ways (ironically)—the daydreamer and visionary who comes to question tradition and go his own way. Fredle has a natural curiosity, a little more than most mice. "Fredle was curious about curiosity, and he did wonder if mice weren't right to be afraid of it." The only other mouse that seems to share his feelings is his girl cousin Axle. Together the two get into mischief in the house where they live. Their family of kitchen mice is conservative in its approach to danger and good health: The word "went" is used as a verb to describe dying and as a noun to describe the state of death in Fredle's clan. In fact, if a mouse is ill or injured, he is put out on the kitchen floor to die so that he won't endanger the others. Unfortunately, when Fredle and Axle find a Peppermint Pattie in the pantry and eat the entire thing, he gets so sick that his family thinks he's dying and shoves him out into the pantry. The cat would be happy to deal with him, but the human Missus can't quite bring herself to kill a baby mouse and carries him outside instead, dumping him in the backyard.

Talk about a fish out of water! Fredle isn't even sure what he's looking at half the time. It doesn't help that at this point he is still pretty sick. Having discovered dirt and grass, he encounters the lattice around the porch, a new hiding place:

...Fredle made his way cautiously toward the bright white wall. He pushed his way through the stalks, trying not to let his nails dig into the soft floor, because how could he know that his feet wouldn't sink so deeply into the softness that he'd be trapped? He trod as lightly as he could—and, being a mouse, that was very lightly—until he arrived at the wall with openings all along it as small as mouseholes, and some of them so low he could easily peer through.
He saw a shadowy light beyond the wall, and the odd floor smell was stronger in there. Nothing moved that he could see or hear, although it wasn't the same kind of empty quiet as a nighttime kitchen. Waiting beyond the white wall there seemed to be a dark, quiet territory, crowded with shadows and smells and sounds too soft and fine even for his ears, as if it was inhabited by creatures much smaller even than a mouse.
Most importantly, it smelled and sounded and felt safe, which the green stalks and bright air behind him did not. So Fredle scrambled up through one of the holes and tumbled down into darkness.

Note that none of these things (the dirt, the grass, and the lattice) are named at this point, so that readers have to figure out what Fredle's seeing right along with him. Thanks to Voigt's craft, Fredle's experiences feel very real. You will no doubt get a sense for what it's like to be a small, vulnerable animal out in the big world as you read this book. (You may just find your whiskers twitching!)

Little by little Fredle learns more about the backyard. He is sort of assisted by a field mouse named Bardo, though he quickly realizes that this new mouse is holding out on him and has a fairly limited interest in Fredle's survival. The compost heap holds food treasures for Fredle to nibble, but he must watch out for owls and other predators. Bardo's sister Neldo ends up being more helpful, as well as more open to getting to know Fredle.

Fredle also has encounters with the dogs; one of them, Sadie, is fairly friendly. And he avoids the cats, who are decidedly unfriendly. Besides which, Fredle gets to see the stars. He loves the stars!

But one night Fredle finds the garbage and is investigating the sweetness at the bottom of an almost-empty ice cream carton when he is captured by the Rowdy Boys, a crew of raccoons who save him to eat later.

The raccoons are one of Voigt's best creations. They keep Fredle prisoner for a few days, and it becomes clear that their leader, Captain Rilf, enjoys the mouse's company, if only because Fredle is nearly as smart as he is, unlike the other raccoons. But true to his nature, Rilf does plan to eat Fredle eventually, and Fredle must figure out how to escape and make his way back home. The odd little relationship between Fredle and Rilf is just one of the many nice touches in this book. And watch for the way the raccoons laugh; even better, note how Fredle picks up their style of laughing and takes it back home with him, to the astonishment of the other mice!

When Fredle does get back into the house, it is not to stay. He is not the same mouse he used to be. He meets the cellar mice first. To his surprise, they live in a sort of boring utopia free from predators. And Fredle's family really doesn't know what to make of their prodigal son, who is no longer amenable to every single one of their traditions.

On a poignant note, the formerly bold Axle has had an adventure of her own, but her reaction to the experience is far different from Fredle's.

Of course, one of the issues facing writers who anthropomorphize animals is how far to go with it. Voigt's mice are the perfect balance of very typical animal behaviors and human-like personalities. For example, the mice who live in the barn are stoic about the black snake who lives there, too. (Bardo remarks philosophically that the snake only eats one mouse every so often, so it's no big deal.)

And then there's Sadie, who is such a dog, playful and loyal and a little dense. Fredle helps her out at one point, and she later helps him, too.

All kinds of things happen, weaving in and out of the young mouse's world. When the human baby gets sick, Sadie worries a great deal, and Fredle is astonished to see that the baby comes home again, healed—as opposed to being left out on the human equivalent of the pantry floor to be "went." It's all rather intricate, considering the apparent simplicity of a mouse's life. Among other things, Fredle's understanding of the meaning of "home" changes along the way. His initial impulse is nothing more than to get back inside the house with his family, but eventually his hopes broaden even as his literal horizon has broadened.

I suppose this is a book for thoughtful children, as descriptions such as the one excerpted above take a little patience to read. But really, I think "becoming Fredle" might fascinate any reader but the most reluctant.

To tell you the truth, I'm not usually a fan of talking-animal books. But this one really got me. Fredle's adventures and evolution are just that good.


MORE MOUSE BOOKS

The following is a list of some of the many nice mouse books available in children's literature:

Picture Books

--Anatole (and sequels) by Eve Titus, illustrated by Paul Galdone
--Angelina Ballerina and sequels by Katharine Holabird, illustrated by Helen Craig
--Beatrix Potter's mouse stories, including The Tailor of Gloucester, The Tale of Two Bad Mice, The Tale of Mrs. Tittlemouse, The Tale of Johnny Townmouse, and The Story of Miss Moppet
--City Mouse, Country Mouse by Aesop—various illustrators, perhaps most notably Jan Brett
--If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Joffe Numeroff, illustrated by Felicia Bond
--Kevin Henkes' mouse stories, including Julius the Baby of the World, Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse, and Lilly's Big Day; also Sheila Rae the Brave, Wemberly Worried, Owen, Chrysanthemum, A Weekend with Wendall, and Chester's Way (fantastic books, every single one!)
--Library Mouse by Daniel Kirk
--The Lion and the Mouse by Jerry Pinkney (Caldecott winner 2010)
--The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry and the Big Hungry Bear by Don Wood
--Little Mouse's Big Book of Fears by Emily Gravett
--Maisy (and sequels) by Lucy Cousins
--Mice Twice by Joseph Low
--Mouse Mess by Linnea Riley
--Mouse Paint by Ellen Stoll Walsh (and sequels)
--The Princess Mouse, retold by Aaron Shepard, illustrated by Leonid Gore
--The Story of Jumping Mouse by John Steptoe
--The Sugar Mouse Cake by Gene Zion, illustrated by Margaret Bloy Graham (out of print and hard to find, but worth it)
--A Visitor for Bear (and sequels) by Bonnie Becker, illustrated by Kady MacDonald Denton
--Whose Mouse Are You? by Robert Kraus, illustrated by Jose Aruego


Easy Readers

--Geronimo Stilton series, starting with Lost Treasure of the Emerald Eye
--The King, the Mouse, and the Cheese by Nancy Gurney, illustrated by Eric Gurney (a classic!)
--Mouse Tales by Arnold Lobel


Middle Grade Fiction

--Babymouse series by Jennifer L. Holm and Matthew Holm
--Basil of Baker Street (series) by Eve Titus
--Ben and Me: An Astonishing Life of Benjamin Franklin by His Good Mouse Amos, by Robert Lawson
--The Black Paw, etc. (Spy Mice series) by Heather Vogel Frederick, illustrated by Sally Wern Comport
--Miss Bianca and other books by Margery Sharp (see also the Disney movie, The Rescuers)
--The Mouse and His Child by Russell Hoban, illustrated by David Small (a classic, rather somber, about two clockwork mice)
--The Mouse and the Motorcycle, Ralph S. Mouse, and Runaway Ralph by Beverly Cleary
--A Mouse Called Wolf, Martin's Mice, and The Mouse Butcher by Dick King-Smith
--Poppy by Avi, illustrated by Brian Floca
--Redwall and other books in the series by Brian Jacques
--The Sands of Time by Michael Hague
--Stuart Little by E.B. White
--The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo
--Tucker's Countryside by George Seldon, illustrated by Garth Williams


Young Adult

--Maus I and Maus II by Art Spiegelman (graphic novels about the Holocaust)


And of course, that's not counting mice who are strong secondary characters, such as Reepicheep in the Narnia books and Willie Fieldmouse in Lawson's Rabbit Hill. Plus movie and cartoon mice like Jerry of Tom and Jerry fame and his alter-ego, Itchy of the Simpsons' "Itchy and Scratchy Show," not to mention all those mice in Disney's Cinderella and Mickey Mouse. (I won't get into their cousins the rats except to give a shout-out to Ratatouille.)

Face it, our culture has quite the love affair with fictional mice! Perhaps it's only fitting that the very talented Lois Lowry and Cynthia Voigt have chosen to add to the mouse canon.

Mouse Book Suggestions from the Comments

--Jean Van Leeuwen's Lost Treasure series, starting with The Great Cheese Conspiracy (middle grade fiction)

--A Nest for Celeste by Henry Cole (MG)

--mouse characters in Felice Holman's Cricket Winter, which was reissued a few years ago (MG)

--Ernest and Celestine picture books by Gabrielle Vincent

--mice in And Then There Were Gnomes, #2 in the MG graphic novel series Guinea Pig, Pet Shop Private Eye, by Colleen AF Venable, illustrated by Stephanie Yue

--Mouse Goes Out and Mouse Has Fun, early readers by Phyllis Root, illustrated by James Croft

--Ned Mouse Breaks Away, a surreal little MG by Tim Wynne-Jones, illustrated by Duran Petricic

--mice in Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien (MG)

--the Tumtum and Nutmeg series by Emily Bearn (Adventures Beyond Nutmouse Hall and The Rose Cottage Tales)

Feel free to list your favorite mouse books in the comments if I've missed them.

Note: I requested copies of Lowry's and Voigt's books from the Amazon Vine program.

A Review of The Birthday Ball by Lois Lowry

Princess Patricia Priscilla is bored, bored, bored—both right this minute as the book begins and by the thought of the upcoming royal ball. When the almost-16-year-old finds out she is expected to choose among three (well, four) royal suitors, she is aghast, and with good reason. Not only is she uninterested in the idea of marriage just yet, but the suitors are uniformly horrible.

I shouldn't say "uniformly." Lowry's greatest creations in this book are these suitors, who would fit nicely in a lineup with Roald Dahl's most appallingly icky characters. Actually, you may not be surprised to learn that the book is illustrated by Jules Feiffer, America's answer to Quentin Blake.

Suitor #1 is Duke Desmond, who is so hideous that no mirrors are allowed in his presence. Duke Desmond has issues with dental hygiene, and with hygiene in general. Even his hair is a menace, a coarse whip-like tuft that has been known to brain people who are foolish enough to get in its path.

Duke Desmond abuses his power and wealth, but he seems pleasant in comparison to Prince Percival of Pustula, who dresses in black, adorns his dyed black hair with grease, and stares in the mirror constantly, murmuring compliments to his own pecs and thighs. The prince has a habit of spraying saliva when he says words that start with P. Here's how Lowry introduces Prince Percival:

Black matched the darkness of his moods—he was always depressed—and, in fact, the color matched his heart. Percival was a black-hearted man who hated his subjects, the Pustulans, the populace of his domain; who hated his own family (he had sentenced his own mother to a minimum-security prison seven years before and he did not venture there on visiting days, never had, not once, and on the most recent Father's Day he had given his aged father a tarantula); and who, in truth, hated everyone but himself.

Quite the romantic, Percival figures that he and Princess Patricia Priscilla will be a good match because they both have a lot of P's in their names.

I'll leave it to you to discover the third, or rather third and fourth suitors, for yourselves. Suffice it to say that you wouldn't want your daughter to go on a date with any of these guys, let alone marry one of them.

But the princess has found a way to distract herself from the upcoming ball, as well as from her everyday ennui. She trades clothes with her maid and sneaks out to go to school in the village, calling herself simply "Pat." There she notices that the young schoolmaster is rather appealing. (I was happy to see that school and reading are presented as privileges in this book.)

The Birthday Ball represents a departure from double Newbery winner Lowry's dystopian works for older readers. Turns out Lowry can write comic fantasy, although I'll admit I was on the alert for social satire at the very least. I did find it, but more than anything, this book is just a rollicking, goofy read.

Lowry has fun with fantasy tropes, let alone plain old human nature. For example, Patricia may have changed her clothes, but she has no idea how to act like a commoner and puzzles everyone she meets with her strange pronouncements, all the while thinking to herself that she's pulling it off just fine.

We also get three singing servant girls, the princess's spoiled cat, and a romance between Patricia's maid and the pulley boy. Not to mention a king who collects butterflies and a nice nod to Lewis Carroll.

At 186 pages, The Birthday Ball isn't a very long book, but that should add to its appeal for reluctant readers. It is such an absurdly delicious read, with little surprises tucked in among the well-chosen fairy tale tropes, that I can recommend it to readers of Dahl and fairy tales and everything in between.

Note for Worried Parents: The Birthday Ball is middle grade fiction. There's a little mild bathroom talk from some of the princes, who are meant to be repulsive.

FYI: I requested a copy of this book from the Amazon Vine program. The Birthday Ball will be available on April 12th.