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Lazy Little Loafers by Susan Orlean, illustrated by G. Brian Karas - review

Lazy Little Loafers by Susan Orlean, illustrated by G. Brian Karas
Here's a question for you: Can we forgive Susan Orlean for being a gorgeous redhead who travels the world writing witty, insightful essays for sparkly, smart, classy publications? Can we forgive her the spectacular house in the Catskills made of native stone and glass? Does it seem like an embarrassment of riches that Meryl Streep played her in the movie? Is it completely unfair that she got to wear a matador outfit for one of her book covers? Well, maybe. She even has a cute dog. But she's talented and funny, so all these things we can forgive.

But now she's written a children's book, and when grownup authors and celebrities (even quasi-celebrities) do that, we sharpen ALLL the knives. Atwood's book? Preachy. Steve Martin's ABC book? Too smarty-pants. Updike's? Unexpectedly charming! (R.I.P., old man, I hope the afterlife looks like Cape Cod for you)

The book opens with our, oh, second-grade protagonist sitting at a desk under an anglepoise lamp, dark circles under her eyes as she copes with stacks and stacks of homework. She looks up from her work to pose the question, "Why don't more babies work?"

Typical New Yorker, this kid.

She then spends her day observing the behavior of several of the little freeloaders, one of which is apparently related to her. There is a certain amount of grownup humor here, as when she posits that the habitual uneven gait of the baby is a result of a "three-bottle lunch". But overall, the concept of babies getting jobs works as a good long joke. It's a fine take on the semi-resentful sibling thing.

Brian Karas's illustrations, by the way, are absolutely terrific. The little girl's deadpan stares, the happy, inscrutable baby - anyone who has stared at a baby and tried to imagine what he is thinking will recognize those faces. Backgrounds done in collage give the book a strolling, cinematic feel, as Mom, baby, and little girl travel from what looks like Greenwich Village, up 6th Ave, into Central Park, and to school on Central Park West. I do love a book that you can map.

So ok, one more point for Susan Orlean. But I'm sure she dyes her hair.

Labels: age: PreK - Grade3, funny, picture books

Oink, Oink Benny by Barbo Lindgren and Olof Landström - review

Oink, Oink Benny by Barbo Lindgren and Olof Landström
Benny and his brother go outside. They play. They get muddy. They see their friends. They do some other stuff. They come home.

Oh yeah? Not jazzy enough for you? How about: "Max gets mad, is sent to his room, later eats dinner" for a plotline? Uh-huh that's what I thought. All Time Classik.

So tromp not on this simple simple funny funny might-have-been-actually-written-by-a-six-year-old book. Look for it. The illustrations are expressive and skillfully done, and cartoony and kind of Steig-y. Interesting dusty colors too.

Plus, this is translated from the Swedish, which is how I now know that pigs say "nöff nöff" in Swedish, which is not only a more accurate piece of onomatopoeia than "oink" but also easier to say without stripping your uvula.

Labels: age: PreK - Grade3, animals, funny, superstar books

Win or go home

So, the big awards came out yesterday. Lotsa hoo-ha.

A few things pleased me mightily:

WOLFSNAIL! The little non-fiction book that could (win a Geisel Honor, that is). When I plucked it more or less at random off a cart, I was surprised and amused at the idea of a predatory snail. After I read it, I was SO impressed that the book was based on direct observation instead of being rehashed from an encyclopedia entry. And indeed, the photos are beautiful and the prose is effective. But come on, a predatory garden snail? That is just funny.

Becoming Billie Holiday got a Coretta Scott King Honor. This was the first book I reviewed for School Library Journal. I was so honored to have been sent such a special book, especially the first time out. I sweated blood over that review, conscious that it was going to be in the running for awards this year. What I wrote is on Amazon.

A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever. Oh do I love this book! Maybe I've mentioned it before. Ah, yes, it appears I have. I like Marla Frazee quite a lot - she has a rare ability to crack up grownups and still be appealing to children. She's like Sesame Street in book form.

Garmann's Summer got that prize for a book in translation. I think it is more notable for the illustrations than the text, but I'm just pleased it got the recognition. It's a weird book but it addresses fear - in a fearless way - which I think is something we need to see more of.

Stinky got a Geisel Honor, and I'm going to agree with that. I think Eleanor Davis has a fresh approach to color and knows what kids like.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian got an Odyssey Award. What's an Odyssey Award, you ask? And why is this spectacular book so far down the list? Well, Odyssey is an audiobook award, and Our Sherm got it for reading his own book. Hmph. He should have gotten the Printz for it, and he didn't. Not this year, and not last year. And the audio version is out of print already according to Amazon.

I'm extremely happy, though, to see Stephen Briggs recognized for his narration of Terry Pratchett's Nation. Briggs is a frickin' NUT when it comes to reading this stuff - his character voices actually cause me pain. I tried reading A Hat Full of Sky out loud to my kids after we had heard the audiobook of The Wee Free Men, and when I tried to imitate the way he did the Nac Mac Feegle (the wee free men), I think I herniated my larynx. And Nation is a terrific book, even if it dwells a little heavily on matters of faith and dogma.

A few things displeased me:

Where is Adam Rex when these things come around? The guy can paint, he can draw. He can cartoon. He can write doggerel poetry worthy of Punch. He's funny as can be. Kids of all ages like his stuff. And he showed, with The True Meaning of Smekday, that he can write long-form fiction too. So what's it going to take for him to get a little recognition? Sheesh.

The House in the Night? FTW? Over the similarly-themed and much more kid-friendly (hint: kids like color) In a Blue Room? I don't know. It didn't do anything for me, although I agree that the art is very nice. I just... I think that the art in this book is for grownups. I much preferred Susan Marie Swanson's previous To Be Like the Sun.

The Newbery titles, with the possible exception of the Big Winnah Mistah Gaiman's Book, are ALL GIRL BOOKS. UH.GAIN. AM I TIRED of trying to find books for boys who are told "Read an award-winning book". They've already READ Hatchet, ok? (Ooh, nice new cover on Hatchet, BTW) Throw my guys a bone, willya? Hold your nose and give Diary of a Wimpy Kid an award. It's not so bad!

Well, that's all. Tune in next year when I get to grouse about awards again. Better yet, keep your eye on the Cybils Awards - I actually participated in those, so I will have no room to complain!

Labels: awards, superstar books

National Geographic Investigates: The Ancient Celts by Jen Brown - review

National Geographic Investigates: The Ancient Celts by Jen Brown

In beautiful photographs and well-written text, this entry in the very readable National Geographic Investigates series makes a thorough presentation of the most up-to-date knowledge about this ancient European culture, from its origins in 800 BC through 500 AD, and the echoes of Celtic traditions in our lives today.

Aerial photos, timelines, informative sidebars, and National Geographic's famous maps augment text that asks and answers interesting questions ("Why did the Celts make human sacrifices?" "What happened when the Romans came?"). Rigorous in its distinction between theory, supposition, and proven fact, the book features a minimum of illustration, in favor of photos of artifacts, sites, and physical remains - including close-ups of Celtic "bog people" showing details such as manicured fingernails and hairdos. Scale is scrupulously noted for all objects and structures in both English and metric units.

Numerous explanations of techniques and processes - both those of the Celts and those employed by archaeologists - inject an element of how-to, a canny addition that will hook the attention of the reader fascinated by how things work and how we figure things out.

Previous books about the Celts for this age group have concentrated on the Celtic presence in the British Isles, or have focused on Celtic myths or daily life. In sixty-plus pages, Ancient Celts is a balanced, scientific account that doesn't stint on the mummified remains. Sure to appeal to a broad range of learners.

Labels: age: Grade3 and up, history, nonfiction, science

Early Valentine to Carolyn - Best books for Kindergarten, early 2009 edition

I love my son's kindergarten teachers. Ms. Burlin asked for a list of recent books for kindergartners that I thought were standouts. Here goes:

The Pencil written by Allan Ahlberg, illustrated by Bruce Ingman. Sort of a prequel to the Tom Waits-y The Runaway Dinner, The Pencil is meta, is magic realist, is funny, but does not read like Tom Waits lyrics. Can't have everything.

BEWARE OF THE FROG by william bee. Reviewed earlier. It's going to take a skilled storyteller to get the surprise ending past a whole batch of little kids, but I have faith.

The Big Bad Bunny written by Franny Billingsley, illustrated by G. Brian Karas. A loud little book with an unexpected twist.

Wolfsnail by Sarah C. Campbell. Reviewed earlier.

Tadpole Rex by Kurt Cyrus. Reviewed earlier.

Tyrannosaurus Drip by Julia Donaldson, illustrated by David Roberts. Reviewed earlier.

Forever Young written by Bob Dylan, illustrated by Paul Rogers. I can't swing this - I can't sing along - but I bet Ms. Burlin can. An awful lot of adult Easter eggs in the illustrations, but that doesn't make it less good for kids.

Fanny by Holly Hobbie. Reviewed earlier.

Garmann's Summer by Stian Hole. Reviewed earlier. About fear.

Mattland, story by Hazel Hutchins and Gail Herbert, art by Dušan Petričić. Reviewed earlier.

The Way Back Home written and illustrated by Oliver Jeffers. I love everything Oliver Jeffers has ever breathed near, including this lovely, sweet book.

Fartiste by Kathleen Krull and Paul Brewer, illustrated by Boris Kulikov. Reviewed earlier. Danger, Will Robinson!

Marveltown by Bruce McCall. Reviewed earlier.

We're Off to Look for Aliens by Colin McNaughton. Reviewed earlier.

Who Made This Cake? text and English translation by Chihiro Nakagawa, illustrations by Junji Koyose. Reviewed earlier. Super birthday book!

Mrs. Muddle's Holidays by Laura F. Nielsen, pictures by Thomas F. Yezerski. Reviewed earlier. Could be "Ms. Burlin's Holidays." So nice.

I Feel a Foot! written by Maranke Rinck, illustrated by Martin Van Der Linden. The tale of the blind men and the elephant, except the blind men are nice little animals with personalities, and they're not blind (it's just night time). It's the art here, the art - beautiful patterns and glowing colors done in what looks like oil pastels, dry brush, heavy inks. Mmmm. Plus, the little striped bat is wearing pink socks - I love that.

Amadi's Snowman written by Katia Novet Saint-lot, illustrated by Dimitria Tokunbo. About literacy, about gender roles, set in Nigeria.

What the Rat Told Me: A legend of the Chinese zodiac by Marie Sellier, Catherine Louis, and Wang Fei. A little repetitive, but the big, sticky, bold ink illustrations make up for it, and figuring out what zodiac year each kid is.

Too Many Toys by David Shannon. Reviewed earlier.

Dinosaur vs. bedtime by Bob Shea. Reviewed earlier.

I'm the best artist in the ocean by Kevin Sherry. Reviewed earlier.

Korgi by Christian Slade. Watching little kids pore through this longer wordless book is so satisfying to those of us who know them well. Sophisticated narrative is not beyond their grasp - reading is.

The Sea Serpent and Me written by Dashka Slater, illustrated by Catia Chien. This was so nice, I wonder why I didn't review it. Little girl's sea serpent quickly outgrows the bathtub, and she is torn when it is time to release it into the sea. Nice little independent girl, not too gooey.

Ladybug Girl by David Soman and Jacky Davis. Reviewed earlier. Sequel, Ladybug Girl and Bumblebee Boy, coming in March.

Jack and the Box by Art Spiegelman. An easily-memorized dialogue book, the surreal plot delights kids. Great for sharing.

Lester Fizz, Bubble Gum Artist written by Ruth Spiro, illustrated by Thor Wickstrom. Really neat. Explains the urge of art ("What do you see?" "What don't you see?" "What do you want to see?") and provides dozens and dozens of famous (and diverse) examples, all within a cute story.

Cesar Takes a Break written by Susan Collins Thoms, illustrated by Roge. Classroom pet's horizons expand when the kids go on spring break.

Elephant and Piggie series by Mo Willems. More dialogue, very funny. First readers - may be more of a first-grade book in schools that don't teach reading in K.

Last Night by Hyewon Yum. Wordless. Easily interpreted. Full of expression. Lino printing at its very very best. Wow.

Labels: age: PreK - Grade3, superstar books

all the wrong people have self-esteem by Laurie Rosenwald - review

all the wrong people have self-esteem by Laurie Rosenwald

OH. MAGAD! This book includes:

1. a DIY update on the Ian Dury song "Reasons to be Cheerful"


2. an advice-for-teens Mad Lib


3. some French and


4. thru 122. many many more useful and funny and brilliantly colored things

PLUS it starts out by saying that nobody interesting ISN'T plagued by doubt. Yeah. Word. This is the NUTS.

Now, you couldn't let it be said that Laurie Rosenwald, the artist who brought us the color book And to Name but Just a Few: Red, Yellow, Green, Blue, which I also loved - isn't clever, and doesn't know she's clever. A native New Yorker who teaches a workshop called "How to Make Mistakes on Purpose," she reports in her author (auto)biography that "by the time she was 35 she had to go to Sweden just to calm down." And she peppers this smart, cranky, deep book with plenty of examples of her own wit: after she blow-dries her hair by sticking her head out the car window, a friend asks, "But isn't that city air - dirty?" To which Laurie mentally replies, "Where do you think the air in your blow-dryer comes from - the Swiss Alps?"

But that doesn't mean she's NOT clever. Look at me: I just found out I am incapable of putting a space between the words "go" and "to" as a result of having learned to code when I was about ten - and people still hang out with me, too.

So give Laurie Rosenwald 45 minutes. Do the Mad Lib. Crack yourself up, and let her crack you up. She may be just a little smug, but she's right.

Labels: girl books, nonfiction, YA

Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder, read by Cherry Jones - review

Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder, read by Cherry Jones
I loved these books as a kid - loved the simplicity, loved the ingenuity, thought there was something wrong with me because I couldn't entertain myself for hours (days! months!) playing with wood chips and/or grass. Begged my parents to tap the maple trees out front of our suburban house. Sigh.

Recently, I thought I'd pull them out and see if my boys would be as spellbound as I had been. Well, they are. My copy of Little House in the Big Woods is inscribed "To [Your Neighborhood Librarian], on her eighth birthday -- Love, Granny and Sam," and that was as fascinating to my sons as the Nazca lines are to conspiracy theorists. I can't imagine their ideas of me as a child.

What I didn't expect, however, was that my husband and I would become spellbound as well. After we read Little House in the Big Woods aloud, we switched to audio. Cherry Jones (the president on 24 and Matt Damon's mom in the Ocean's Eleven movies), is the perfect reader for these books. Her voice is both warm and dry - though she sometimes reads with a smile in her voice, she never, ever gets sugary. There's just enough astringency there to give a hint of the extraordinarily isolated and precarious life Pa has signed the family on for, and her slightly measured pace is just right for young listeners. A frequent reader on NPR's Selected Shorts, Ms. Jones has a voice you want to listen to.

That's a real plus, because these books have so much to offer beyond the narrative. The choices that Mrs. Wilder made when she wrote them reveal the changes that she observed in her lifetime. She wrote the books in the 1930's, when she was in her 60's, and took care to scrupulously document such processes as building a log house (with only hand tools and two people) and packing a covered wagon. She takes the time to describe food and objects that, by the 1930's, were no longer in use, like the three-legged iron pot that Ma cooks in over the campfire.

However, many frightening or dramatic events are recounted without much comment and without echo. When the entire Ingalls family is so sick with malaria that none of them can get up for a cup of water, Laura narrates the incident, mentions that it was awfully lucky that one of their (distant) neighbors happened by, and moves on. But - says the adult reader - those people could have died! How many little houses on the prairie ended up little mausoleums on the prairie? And later the adult listener gradually realizes that the family has eaten nothing but meat and cornmeal for the better part of a year. No eggs, no vegetables, no wheat products. If I were Pa, I'd have taught those girls to steal eggs from the prairie chickens.

At the end of the book, Pa learns that they must vacate the land that they have settled and plowed. Without discussion, despair, or dithering, and with a minimum of planning, Pa announces that they are leaving the next day. The family gets up in the morning, puts all their things into the wagon and leaves behind those extraordinary structures that Pa built with his bare hands, seemingly from thin air: the house, the well, the stable, and the plowed field full of seed. That's just what they did, and through the level-headed offices of Mrs. Wilder and Ms. Jones, we hear it, we understand it, and, like Pa and Ma and the girls, we move on.

I don't know if historical fiction will ever get better than this.

Labels: age: adult children, age: Grade3 and up, fiction, girl books, historical fiction, superstar books

Foundling and Lamplighter (Monster Blood Tattoo) by D. M. Cornish - review

Author D.M. Cornish has a passion for neologism. His Latinate and Germanish terms sparkle through the first two books of his series Monster Blood Tattoo like the bubbles in champagne. Maybe, then, we can commission him to come up with a term for the tiresome literary state, common in Greek tragedy and really crappy mysteries, that happens when readers figure out a character's Big Secret long before the character does.

Rossamund, a gentle, short orphan conscripted into dangerous service in a fancy, fanciful land peopled by everymen (humans) and untermen (monsters), does not know the truth about his origins. But we do. We figure it out a few hundred pages into the first book, and by the end of the second book, which, by the way, is over 600 pages long not including the extensive glossary, Rossamund has not figured it out himself.

On its own, this is not a fatal flaw. After all, everyone knows what's going to happen to Oedipus a quarter of the way into his play, and he doesn't figure it out til almost the end, and this knowledge only adds to the tragedy of Oedipus Rex. But in Monster Blood Tattoo, the machinations that the author goes through to delay Rossamund's epiphany feel like they are thrown in his path merely to give the book more space to describe the Half-Continent, the world that the author has, by his own admission, spent fifteen years imagining and peopling in his head. You should see the map he drew. Detailed? You'd have to blow that sucker up wall-size before you could even read it.

Listen, I am not against world-building. I have drawn my share of maps, believe me. But there comes a point, if you are writing a book, that the narrative has to take precedence.

Comparison has been made to Tolkein, and I can see why. The world of the Half-Continent is the most completely-imagined fantasy world since Middle Earth, in terms of material culture - maybe even more so. Cornish does all of Tolkein's descriptive work, and adds in much of the incidental detail Peter Jackson had to design when he made the movies - the weapons! the uniforms! the stylistic elements! And, like Tolkein, he has illustrated his world himself - and he is a very talented illustrator.

But the pace and tone of Monster Blood Tattoo has very few ups and downs. What Cornish does not do as well as Tolkein - and I make the comparison only as a shortcut, I don't mean to imply intent - is this: when Frodo, in his wanderings, encounters new subcultures and meets new people, Tolkein manages to bring most of these people alive in a few strokes. Rossamund moves about quite a bit as well, but most of his transient comrades seem all but interchangeable. Young guy, old guy. Mean guy, nice guy. Plus, there is not one smile to be had in either of the books so far. The bleak tone never lets up. It's like the trip to Mount Doom all the way, with no Sam Gamgee to occasionally crack us up, or at least cook us breakfast.

I will recommend these books to ravenous fantasy readers, but as spectacular examples of obsessive vision, not as adventure literature per se.

Labels: age: Grade5 and up, fantasy, fiction, YA