The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963

by Christopher Paul Curtis

New York:  Delacorte, 1995

I had never read anything by Christopher Paul Curtis before, but I had heard a lot of good things about another of his works, Bud, Not Buddy.  In addition, I knew I was going out of town when I had to read The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963, so I read part of the story from the book and listened to the rest on an audiotape.  It was very interesting to compare the two experiences.

In this story, the reader follows the "weird Watsons" (as the main character, Kenny, calls his family) as they go through everyday experiences--often comical--as well as a life-changing trip to visit Mrs. Watson's home town, Birmingham, AL.  The Watsons are a typical family with two sons who are always getting into trouble somehow and one young daughter who looks up to both of them angelically.  Throughout the story, we see Byron get into all kinds of trouble, from getting his mouth frozen to a car mirror to getting a "conk" (a perm and color) when his parents did not approve.  Kenny, too, finds trouble; he loses his dinosaurs in an epic war against the Germans and does battle with a deadly "Wool Pooh" in the river.  Then, the tragic bombings of Birmingham in 1963 change forever the way that Kenny and his family see the world.  The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963, is at the same time a humorous family tale as well as a sobering coming-of-age story.

Although I enjoyed actually reading the text of this story, I have to say that listening to it on audiobook was so much fun!  Hearing the expressions in different tones, particularly Kenny's trademark "tie me to a tree and say, 'Ready, aim, fire!'" was both entertaining and showed a window into Kenny's exaggerated black-and-white view of what is right and wrong (even if he doesn't always follow the rules himself!).

There are several themes running through this work.  First, the importance of family is evident.  Kenny's world revolves around his family; he learns social conventions from his brother, the popular kid in school, and his mother, the stern voice of reason.  Everything that either boy does wrong eventually comes back to bite them, whether it is Byron's hair or Kenny's laughing at his new friend.  The interactions between and among the family form Kenny's identity.  A second important theme, or motif, is the Civil Rights movement.  Because this story takes place in 1963, Curtis infuses examples of racist behavior into the text.  Although Kenny lives in the North (Michigan), his town is still largely segregated.  He knows only a few, if any, white people and lives and interacts mainly with kids "like him."  When the family gets to Alabama, however, things are very different.  The church bombings that Kenny almost witnesses are his first jarring example of how cruel people could be to African Americans, and these events seriously shake up his world view.  In the end, the family theme comes back.  His brother and sister pull him out of his contemplative mood and even his hiding place behind the family couch by reminding him of the good things in their lives, especially the love they all share.

This story would be excellent to include in a unit on the civil rights movement because it teaches the reader about the events of that period without preaching to them.  As this video with Christopher Paul Curtis mentions, the students really are reading a story about a family.  Through it, however, they learn so much more.  I really enjoyed this book and I would definitely like to read some other works by Curtis.

A movie is being made, as well!  Click here to read more about it.

Django: World's Greatest Jazz Guitarist

by Bonnie Christensen

New York:  Flash Point/Roaring Book Press (2009)

Jean "Django" Reinhardt was born in Belgium in January 1910 and grew up living a wandering gypsy life, "Always moving place to place,/Country to country/...Hard life everywhere" (pages not numbered).  Bonnie Christensen's biography describes his life with vivid language and stunning illustrations, showing the reader both his hardships and his triumphs.

In Django:  World's Greatest Jazz Guitarist, the reader learns the importance of music in Django's life.  Although he is ever-moving, never stable, music holds a certain power for him.  There are pages and pages of beautiful illustrations showing the movement of dancers and musicians at night, enjoying the rhythm and the freedom of making music.  On one page in particular, one dancer breaks the frame that surrounds every other illustration; her hand floats up in the air, her eyes are clothes, and the reader gets the feeling that she is losing herself in the song.  Meanwhile, we follow Django as he grows up, catching fish and meat for dinner even as a boy.  Later, we see him playing on the streets of Paris, where he was called "Gypsy Genius" and "Prodigy Boy."  Tragically, he suffers terrible burns when he is 18 years old on his hand and leg, and the doctors said he would never play again.  These pages, in stark contrast to the bright colors of the rest of the book, are lean.  He is surrounded by bare, white walls and empty beds in the hospital, and people appear on the edges of the page, as though they don't want to get close.  The text echoes his loneliness and despair.  However, once the bandages are off, he picks up a guitar and teaches himself a new way to play with his non-functioning fingers.  In the end, he plays for a group of people who, at first doubtful of his skill, are so happy to hear him play once again.

This is an amazing story.  I had never heard of Django, but I looked up some of his music and he is amazing.  On the inside of the book jacket, Willie Nelson is quoted saying, "No one has ever equaled his sound or technique."  Learning about this musician and all that he went through was very inspiring and definitely exposed me to a new kind of music.  This would be a great book to read to students when studying different types of music because Django came from such an unusual background.

The illustrations in this book are incredible.  They are delicate yet deliberate, showing distinct expressions even on slightly blurred faces.  The colors are vibrant and convey the message of deep joy in music, and the use of the frame around each page remind the reader that this is a biography.  A great story to introduce the struggles that artists often go through, Django is definitely an excellent addition to any classroom library.

Django:  World's Greatest Jazz Guitarist won the Schneider Family Book Award in 2010.

Among the Hidden

By Margaret Haddix

New York:  Simon and Schuster Books for Children (1998)

In Margaret Haddix's Among the Hidden, Luke, a young boy who has to hide his very existence from the world, finds his voice.  Ever since the government was overthrown and the Population Police began enforcing a two-children-per-household rule, third-children have to stay inside and stay hidden.  Luke has spent his entire 12 years of life inside his house, mostly in his attic bedroom, before he spies another third-child in his neighbor's home.  Risking everything, he goes over to meet the girl who will change his life.  But when her plan to save all of the hidden children goes horribly wrong, will Luke have the courage to follow in her footsteps?

This story was intriguing and had me hooked from the very first page.  Haddix describes the world to be believable by using a realistic family.  Luke's older brothers, mother, and father, are a poor farming family who love Luke but are too afraid of the Government's power to let him risk his safety even to peek out the window and see the sunlight.  Luke is depicted as a normal boy who fights with his brothers, wants to play outside, and feels lonely without friends.  His story is an allegoric coming-of-age journey as moves from his imprisoned childhood into the terrifying world of adults, without any safety or guarantees.

I really enjoyed this book.  The characters broke my heart as I was reading, thinking about a young boy who has read boring books dozens of times simply because some days he is not even allowed downstairs.  I think the theme of stepping outside your comfort zone in order to better yourself and help others is a worthy one for young children to read, and the science fiction back drop distances them enough that, even at the scariest or saddest moments, the reader can still feel safe.

This is the first book in the Shadow Children sequence by Margaret Haddix, and I am definitely interested in reading to find out how Luke's story continues!

Don't Bump the Glump! And Other Fantasies

By Shel Silverstein

New York:  Harper Collins (1964)

I first knew Shel Silverstein for his collection of poems and drawings, "Where the Sidewalk Ends," for "The Missing Piece," and for "Falling Up." Later, I read and loved "The Giving Tree."  However, I had never found his first poetry collection, "Don't Bump the Glump!" until a librarian recently suggested I read it.  Each page has a short poem accompanied by some imaginary creature.  Some of the names are impossible to pronounce ("Zrbangdraldnk"), but all are vividly described in an often hilarious manner.  

My favorite poem is entitled "Long-Necked Preposterous:"  "This is Arnold,/A Long-Necked Preposterous,/Looking around for a female/Long-Necked Preposterous./But there aren't any."  I laughed out loud when I read this poem, and I don't think anyone else could have written such gibberish and gotten away with it.  Another poem in the same wry sense of humor is "The Flying Festoon."  In it, he talks about riding the Flying Festoon to the moon, and makes detailed plans, only to reveal that the Flying Festoon has yet to learn how to fly.

The crazy drawings are in perfect alignment with the sometimes nonsensical poems, and I can imagine reading them out loud to a classroom of young children who would just laugh out loud.  Some poems, though, refer to things that are actually real.  In "The Zumbies," Silverstein refers to an ostrich and then flips it around by creating an animal that buries not only its head, but its whole body, when threatened.  In this way, Silverstein relates the nonsense to reality, connecting the concepts in the children's mind.  

In conclusion, I really enjoyed reading Silverstein's first collection.  I enjoy some of his other collections a bit more, particularly "Where the Sidewalk Ends."  Still, it was a fun and enjoyable read, and I think it would be a good addition to my classroom library.

Gossamer

By Lois Lowry

Boston:  Houghton Mifflin, 2006

Nobody creates a world quite like Lois Lowry. From the opening scene of Gossamer, Lowry paints a vivid picture of a world not completely unlike ours, in which small, mysterious beings gather memories from the items in our home and then bestow them upon as dreams.  In this story, these dream givers play a crucial role in the lives of a lonely older woman and the troubled young boy she agrees to take in.  Without the help of Littlest One and Thin Elderly, the humans are in danger of suffering at the hands of the "Sinisteeds," those who bring not dreams, but nightmares.

The beginning of this story was simultaneously intriguing and frustrating.  Lowry develops her main characters for several chapters without actually telling the reader who (or what) they are.  Her tactic is very interesting:  she actually has her main character, Littlest One, questioning another character about what she is.  She says, "are we a kind of dog?" (p. 2), "might we be a type of bat?" (p. 5), and later, "might we be human?" (p. 6).  Each time, this question is preceded by some small detail about the beings, such as the fact that they have shadows, but not tails, and not wings.  In this manner, Lowry forces her reader to continually adjust her mental picture of these beings.  What are they?  Why are they there?  What is their purpose?  Although in the end I found this process helpful and even rewarding, in the midst of it I felt like she was going too far.  However, I am reading from a completely different perspective:  I have had practice reading and picturing stories for most of my life, whereas young children might need this coaxing to develop their internal "artist" for reading, picturing, and comprehending fictional texts.

The narrative with the dream givers is woven in between the stories of two humans.  The first is an elderly woman who, based on the "fragments" Littlest One gives her for dreams, has outlived her friends and family, and now lives happily, if somewhat lonely, with her dog, Toby.  The second is a young boy, 8 years old, who has been put into her hands until his mother can get back on her feet.  John is struggling with the heavy burden of understanding that his father was physically and mentally abusive to both him and his mother; throughout the story, Lowry gives more and more details to help the reader see the sad pattern his life had contained before his father "moved to California," as his 8-year-old mind understands it.  To make matters worse, the Sinisteeds are targeting the vulnerable little boy, and Littlest One must do everything she can to protect him so he can resist the terror of his nightmares.

Gossamer deals with some very tough issues.  The physical abuse of little John is explicit in the text, especially towards the end, where he tells the woman that his father punished him for wetting himself when he was three by treating him as though he were a dog.  The language is powerful and moving, and I was saddened by the descriptions of the little boy's feelings of guilt.  However, Lowry does end her note on an uplifting note:  John is starting school, his mother has a good, steady job and a supportive group of friends, and Littlest One begins to train her own dream giver, now that she has matured enough to understand the art.

I love Lois Lowry's style of writing, but I had some trouble with this book.  It is more abstract than some of her other books, and the climactic battle literally takes place in a dream world, which makes it hard to grasp.  That being said, I enjoyed learning the histories of the boy and the woman, and the idea of tiny creatures who choose what you dream about and protect you from nightmares is actually kind of comforting.  I think this would be a great read aloud because Lowry really exercises the reader's ability to form mental pictures, and uses vocabulary that is fairly advanced.  Finally, the story ends on an uplifting note, suggesting the resiliency of children and the importance of imagination and dreams.

For more information on Lois Lowry, including a list of her books and speeches, you can visit her website!

Dark Emperor, and Other Poems of the Night

by Joyce Sidman, illustrated by Rick Allen

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (2010)

I actually used to love poetry growing up, both writing and reading it.  I liked how flexible the words could be, and how good it felt to find that certain rhyming word you'd been wracking your brain for.  Still, it has been a long time since I read anything except Shakespeare's sonnets and Spenser's sonnet cycles (which, I'll admit, I love).  So going back to children's poetry, I figured, would feel a lot different, and I was not sure I would like it anymore.

I was wrong.

Dark Emperor and Other Poems of the Night reminded me how fun playing with words can be.  Each of the poems, each about a different animal or plant that comes to life at night, creatively used rhythm, rhyme, and even shape to shed light on creatures of the night.

A great example of rhythm, and perhaps my favorite of the poems, is in "I am a Baby Porcupette" (p. 18).  This short little poem is catchy; as I was reading it, I could picture kids almost singing along:  "I am a baby porcupette/My paws are small; my nose is wet/And as I nurse against my mom,/We mew and coo a soft duet."  Each of the four verses follows this pattern of light, bouncy language and rhythm.  I think that this style would be great for children because it would help them remember the words of the poem as well as the information.  Another good example of rhythm is found in "Ballad of the Wandering Eft" (p. 24), in which there is a repeating verse.  This, similar to a mainstream song, aids memory and understanding.  On a side note, this animal was my favorite to read about:  efts are the land stage of a newt; after several years, they actually turn green, grow gills, and return to live in the water.

This brings up one unique detail about this poetry collection:  the natural information on the facing page of each poem.  This is fantastic.  The poem is a fun introduction to an animal or plant, and then, next to a full-page illustration, is a brief paragraph that details the described being.  In each, there is at least one bit of interesting or weird information.  I learned, for instance, that orb spiders eat their webs each night after they catch their prey.  This format is a huge strength of this collection because many of the animals were unfamiliar to me, so I assume even more would be unfamiliar to children.  The language is technical but still understandable in a read-aloud for young children; older children might be able to read on their own, with some scaffolding.

One of the coolest poems, in my opinion, is "Dark Emperor," about a great horned animal.  The words of the poem are actually shaped like an owl sitting on a branch.  I remember learning about this kind of poetry, but never understood the purpose.  Looking at this page, however, it clicked.  The shape of the owl really drew my attention to the words, and I love the little lines at the end:  "disregard/the tiny hiccup/of my heart/as I flee" (p. 12).  It is such a good format for a poem, I think, especially for younger children who really latch onto the visual aspects.

Speaking of which, I finally come to the illustrations.  Allen created beautiful two-page illustrations for both the front and back end pages, the first being the sunset (an introduction to nighttime) and the last being sunrise (a logical end to the collection).  Each drawing is detailed and realistic; when I turned to the page about the spider, I (an arachnophobe) honestly felt a little anxious.  One cute detail is that each picture includes not only the subject of the current poem, but also the subject of another poem.  Mushrooms, for example, are seen in the porcupette poem; a snail is seen on the mushroom page.  Every page, however, contains the newt, crawling into or around whatever is being currently discussed.  This provides some consistency across the collection, since each poem is so different from the rest.

In conclusion, I loved this collection of poems.  I would definitely include it in my classroom library, and I think it would be a great introduction to not only creatures of the night, but also poetry styles and characteristics.

The One and Only Ivan

By Katherine Applegate

New York:  Harper (2012)

Although as a younger reader I loved fantasy novels--I could not get enough of Tamora Pierce or Phillip Pullman's series, not to mention Harry Potter--I have always had trouble connecting to animal stories.  So I opened Ivan not knowing how I would react.  And while I enjoyed reading Ivan's words, I had some trouble gleaning the main messages from them.  Still, I did think, repeatedly, as I read that I can see why children would love this story.

The One and Only Ivan is a story about a gorilla living in the "Big Top Mall" off of Exit 8.  He and a few other animals, like Stella the elephant and Bob the stray dog, live their lives much the same every day:  performing for the guests and shoppers and passing the time by talking and telling stories about their pasts.  In an effort to bring more guests in, the owner, Mack, purchases a baby elephant named Ruby.  However, Stella and Ivan are realizing how hopeless their lives are in the mall and want a different life for Ruby.  With the help of a young schoolgirl who inspires the artist in Ivan, the animals work together to try and break free of their glassed-in "domains," struggling to reconcile their pasts with their present lives.

Even though I did not connect with this book in the same way as I have with others this semester, I still enjoyed reading and studying it.  The simple sentence structure and language allow the reader to focus on the details within the story, and the modest illustrations pull out the important characters and events in the tale without distracting from the text.  I enjoyed the attention to detail in these illustrations.  For instance, whenever a new character is introduced, we see a sketch of that animal or person that tells us a great deal about him or her.  When we first meet Julia, for instance, she is sitting on a bench looking up from her sketch pad, smiling and contemplating what she is drawing.  These are important characteristics of her personality that are reinforced throughout the text, and the illustration can help young readers relate to her.

One of the main themes running throughout the narrative is that of animal rights, which I think is aided by the fact that it's told from an animal's perspective.  I think children will be able to relate more to the ways that animals should be treated if they can picture a character such as Ivan and imagine his feelings.  The power of art, too, is important to this story, as Ivan uses art to communicate his strongest desire to get out of the mall and into a zoo.

One final aspect of the story that I appreciated was that instead of ending the story when the animals left the mall and got to the zoo, Applegate took the time to show the reader how they adjusted to their surroundings.  For instance, Ivan saw that Ruby had a family, and he also gradually discovered his role in his troop.  Bob's story, too, wraps up nicely, and I felt happy that he finally had a home.  Taking that extra time to show how the animals adjusted to change, instead of just stopping the narrative when they left the mall, gives readers some closure and some insight into how humans can help take care of animals.

To sum up, although this novel is not one of my all time favorites, I did finish with that warm feeling you get when you read quality literature.  The characters are humanized and made relatable, and Applegate includes some important themes for young readers to consider.  I would definitely include this in my classroom library.

By the way, I found the trailer for this book very intriguing, as it included some of the artwork and text to pull together a creative introduction to the story.

Hatchet

By Gary Paulsen

New York:  Simon Pulse (1987)

Today more than ever, divorce is one of those topics that kids should learn about and feel comfortable discussing.  With such a high rate of divorce in our country, it is inevitable that as teachers, we will encounter various children struggling with or living with divorce as their reality.  That is why good literature about divorce is crucial to have on hand and to discuss in the classroom, whether in a group or individually.  The inside cover of Hatchet states that the story is one of dual survival:  Brian must learn to survive the Canadian wilderness as well as his parents' recent divorce.  Ultimately, I was disappointed with the second aspect of this story.

Brian has a Secret, a great Secret that he is afraid to tell is father but that prevents him from looking at his mother in the same way.  So when his mother drives him to the airport to go and stay with his dad for a few months over the summer, Brian does not know what to think.  Unfortunately, the pilot has a heart attack while they're in the air, and Brian is forced to fly the plane until it runs out of fuel, at which point he maneuvers it to crash in the safest way he can think of.  He survives, but he runs into one problem after the next as he finds a way to build shelter, feed and protect himself, and hopefully attract the attention of the search party he is sure is looking for him.

One aspect of the story I did like was the emphasis on using the skills and the materials available to you.  Brian uses every resource he has, from his shoe laces to the tattered windbreaker he crashed in, and as time goes by he learns how to use the resources abundant in the forest around him.  However, Brian is thirteen years old, and I had difficulty accepting some of the skills he was able to perform.  For instance, Brian figures out how to build a bow--in two tries.  He only runs into wild animals a handful of times in the nearly two months he is stranded, and only once does that animal try to hurt him.  He builds a shelter by weaving branches of trees together tightly, even creating a chimney for the smoke to exit.  While these are commendable skills that largely contributed to his survival, I just kept wondering how realistic it was for a thirteen-year-old to know how to perform them.  Finally, putting all of this aside, these skills did not contribute at all to his rescue.  Once he was finally able to get into the sunken plane and retrieve the survival pack (inside which everything was miraculously intact, despite being submerged for two months), what saved him was an accidental press of a button on a device that turned out to be an emergency transmitter.  When he was finally found, he was not cooking the birds and fish in the way he had learned to do through experience, but was boiling in pots a large turkey dinner for four.  I did not like this because it suggested that everything he had done previously did nothing to save him--only the "creature comforts" he had just found really helped him.

However, my main issue with the work was not in plot, but in theme.  For the first half of the book, it is evident that Brian really struggles with his parents' divorce.  He saw something he wished he had not, and is afraid to tell anyone about it because it brings up his own complicated feelings.  The first half of the story mentions frequent bouts of contemplation about the divorce, his own feelings, and what life would be like from then on.  After this first half, however, the theme almost entirely disappears.  Abruptly, the narrative focuses only on the literal survival in the wilderness.  As I was reading, I kept assuming that the circle would close in the end, that he would apply his newfound physical maturity to his emotions about his family.  Even in the epilogue, however, only the last three sentences are dedicated to the divorce.  Paulsen writes, "for a week it looked as if they might actually get back together" and "Brian tried several times to tell his father, came really close once to doing it, but in the end never said a word about the man or what he knew, the Secret" (p. 189).  And that is where the story ends.  This made me very upset when I first read it because it does not show any emotional growth.  I think that the focus should not be on whether the parents get back together, but instead how they go forward as a family (even one broken apart).

That last line, though, is my least favorite part of the story.  Brian never spoke to his father about what he knew; if a child is reading this and has questions for his own parents about their divorce, this would not encourage him to be open about his feelings or opinions.  I think it is important that children communicate their feelings, good or bad, about such difficult topics, especially with those they are closest to.  Brian's example does not encourage this communication, and for that reason I don't think I would use this book if a student comes to me struggling with divorce in his family.

That being said, I don't think this book should be excluded from the classroom.  It is an exciting survival story of just an regular boy, and I'm sure that kids would enjoy reading about how he finds resources around him.  To teach about divorce or offer resources to students, however, I think I will at the very least find other stories in which the children are allowed to confront and express their feelings, and offer those examples in combination with this one.

Ruby Lu, Brave and True

by Lenore Look and illustrated by Anne Wilsdorf

New York:  Atheneum Books for Young Readers (2004)

In Ruby Lu, Brave and True, Lenore Look illuminates the magical world of a child's imagination.  Ruby Lu is an (almost) eight year old Asian American girl who is experiencing some brand new things.  She has a baby brother (who gives away her magician's secrets!), she goes to Chinese school (on Saturdays), and she even learns to drive!  In each chapter, Ruby performs in her own magic shows, finds out that bullies sometimes "just need a blanket," and learns Chinese.  She also learns some important lessons, like the value of making a new friend--"You never know when a new friend might become another best friend" (p. 7)--and the importance of family.  Through lighthearted anecdotes and creative phrasing, Lenore reminds the reader how thin the barrier is between reality and imagination when you wear a mysterious magic cape that "makes you look as old as ten and very sophisticated" (p. 28).

One of my favorite aspects of this novel is Look's use of language.  She repeats certain phrases multiple times across the chapters so that young readers can get an idea of how flexible figurative language can be.  I particularly love when "Ruby's tongue drops out" (p. 29), like when she meets her new Chinese school teacher, who is a beautiful princess who used to be able to turn into a mermaid.  Look goes on to explain this phrase, in this case by describing how Ruby does not know what to say.  The use of the funny phrase, rather than just the more common explanation, grabs the reader's attention and makes her think about what Look might mean.  With young readers, this is very helpful in building figurative vocabulary and awareness.

I also really like the fact that Look writes the way Ruby thinks.  With childish (but still sophisticated) language, the reader can glimpse into the world of childhood, where magic capes can transform you into a tree frog and tights can make you a gecko.  New experiences are described in a way that young readers would understand, and the experiences are not unique to a child who attends Chinese school.  For instance, although Ruby does struggle to learn Chinese, she also deals with a neighborhood bully, which many kids can understand.  Through the use of common, every-day experiences, Look presents Ruby's life in a light that children can relate to, regardless of nationality.

Finally, the illustrations are perfect for the tone of this book.  The limited pictures show Ruby's main emotions:  when she is mad at her brother, when she is exuberantly driving a car, and when she and her neighborhood friends tentatively go to Christina's house after she comes home from the hospital.  They augment the story without giving it completely away, which gives aid for young readers without allowing them to rely completely on the drawings.  One really cute detail is that the bottom right hand corners of the pages comprise a flip book of one of Ruby's magic tricks!  Flipping through these pages creatively engages children with the story in a new way.

I really enjoyed this story for several reasons.  The themes are appropriate and relatable for kids; the language used is creative and introduces many techniques of figurative language; the illustrations depict key scenes and emotions without giving away too much of the story; and, the plot line itself is swift and allows lessons to be told in a succinct, understandable way.  This would be a great read aloud and a way to promote cultural understanding in an elementary classroom.

Wonder

By R.J. Palacio

New York:  Random House (2012)

It had been a very long time since I'd picked up a book from the JF section of the library, so I knew it would be very interesting to travel back in time to that middle-school world of scary new experiences and insecurities. The very first page of RJ Palacio's Wonder took me right there.

From that first page, the reader knows that August "Auggie" Pullman is special.  Because of a rare birth defect, 10-year-old Auggie's face is severely deformed, despite dozens of surgeries aimed to help.  He knows he looks different, and describes in painful realism many different encounters he has had throughout his life in which people are horrified and shocked by his looks.  As a result, he is even more nervous about starting middle school--he has never been to school before and does not really want to go now.  The rest of the story follows August's life as he struggles with various middle-school evils:  bullies, the lunch room, hard class work, and the complicated social system in which friend groups seem exclusive and permanent to an outsider like August.  Along the way, he has to learn how to handle being outcast, made fun of, and talked about for his looks.  In the end (I won't give away the whole story!) Auggie understands himself better and, even, comes to accept the way he looks as something that makes him unique, but does not define him.

These revelations also help many other characters in Auggie's school.  At the beginning, almost everyone shuns him, and the social circles mess with him more than most other kids.  However, as we read his story, the perspective shifts from August to other friends and family members, each told in a distinctive voice and style.  I think that this is one of the great strengths of this book.  As the reader switches back and forth, we are getting multiple points of view of the same story and, as a result, we see what August can't yet:  he is impacting so many people in a very positive way just by being himself.  One example of this is when Summer, one of his only friends, is invited to a party with the popular kids, who tell her that if she stopped hanging out with August, she could be "one of them."  Instead of caving under peer pressure, Summer calls home and asks to leave.  This strength of character is the first sign that August will be alright in middle school:  if he has one friend standing by him no matter what, he will be able to get through tough times.

Another strength of this novel is the fact that the experiences August has are typical ones, made atypical only by his unusual looks.  For instance, he gets into a fight with his best friend, Jack, and the two have to apologize and make up.  He has science projects and social studies projects.  He has birthday parties; dresses up for Halloween; attends school plays.  These are events to which so many children can relate, and the insecurities that August wears on his sleeve, many children feel inside.  I think that sometimes, an extraordinary example is used to illustrate feelings that everyone has.  In this case, students entering fifth grade all share anxieties that they won't fit in, won't be popular enough, won't have anyone to sit with at lunch.  But August Pullman sets an example that if you are true to yourself, good people will find you.  More importantly, you might just find the good in people that, at first glance, seemed not to be there.

This story is about a boy's journey through fifth grade, but it is also a story of overcoming fears, growing up, and accepting yourself and those around you whom you don't understand.  One of my favorite sections of the novel is on page 252, in August's chapter "Known For:"  "As much as I love Star Wars, I don't want that to be what I'm known for.  Everyone's known for something in middle school....I'm not sure what I want to be known for, but it's not that.  That's not exactly true:  I do know what I'm really known for.  But there's nothing I can do about that.  A Star Wars duffel bag I could do something about."  This quote shows tremendous growth on August's part, who, at the beginning of the story covered up his face by any means possible and hated being recognized.  This shows that he is beginning to embrace his differences from other people, but that he is comfortable enough to know now that he can be known for other things as well.  When people finally took the time to get to know August and treat him like just another person, he began to think of himself the same way.  In the end, he is celebrated for his differences, just as we should celebrate our students' differences and use them as teaching and learning activities.

The messages in this book are great for students in this awkward transition period.  I found it unique that instead of only leaving the reader to figure out the themes, Palacio also used one of the teachers as a "voice of reason." The precepts this teacher shared with his students are then listed together at the end of the book.  This was very clever, because it means that readers who may not have gotten each of these themes from the story itself can still think about their implications.  Auggie's precept, of course, is a great ending point for the story, and I think for this blog post as well:

"Everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their life because we all overcometh the world" (p. 313).

If students believed in themselves the way August learns to, middle school might be an easier place.  Until that happens, August Pullman sets a great example.

Russian Folk Tales

                                Retold by James Riordan and illustrated by Andrew Breakspeare
                                             New York:  Oxford University Press (2000)


If there are two things I am passionate about, they are all types of literature, and Russia.  Anything Russian at all.  So it's surprising that I haven't picked up any Russian fairy tales before this collection.   In James Riordan's retelling of these tales, apparently collected and translated from original sources, I found yet another window into the mysterious Russian lifestyle; this time, through words meant for children.

The classic and most well known of the Russian tales is "Vasilissa the Wise and Baba Yaga."  I had heard before about the (in)famous Baba Yaga, who is contrarily evil and kind in various Russian tales, but I had never before experienced the forms that this takes.  The story starts out similarly to our tale of Cinderella, with one key difference:  there is no prince.  Vasilissa's mother dies when she is still very young, and leaves her with a doll and a set of instructions:  "Take good care of this doll and show her to no one.  Whenever you need help, give the doll a bite to eat and...she will tell you what to do" (p. 6).  Of course, Vasilissa's father eventually remarries a nasty woman with two horrible daughters, all of whom torment Vasilissa by forcing her to do chores.  Whenever she is overwhelmed, Vasilissa's doll helps her finish her tasks.  The main task of the story is when the lights all go out and the sisters tell Vasilissa to get a light from Baba Yaga, who lives far away.  After being trapped by Baba Yaga for two days, Vasilissa manages to escape:  the doll tells her to be kind to the servants and animals that usually do Baba Yaga's bidding (she gives her headscarf to the servant girl, for example, a pie to the cat, a bone to the dog).  She also takes a light from Baba Yaga's land, which is actually a lit skull.  When she brings it back to her evil family members, they are burnt up from its gaze.  Vasilissa and her father live happily after that, and Vasilissa keeps her doll "just in case she might need her again" (p. 17).

This story is quite different from ones we often tell children.  Rarely do the bad guys burn up in the end from the glare of a lit skull.  However, the overall message that good triumphs over evil remains true, as does the idea that good deeds will take you far.  (Although the Baba Yaga does live on to traipse through many other fables.)  Unlike our Cinderella, Vasilissa is not saved by a prince, but rather by her own actions.  In a culture which historically has treated its women almost as equals with its men, this fact is perhaps not so surprising.

The second story I read was "Ivan the Fool and the Magic Pike."  In it, a foolish and lazy younger brother goes to fetch water from the frozen river.  To his surprise, he catches a talking fish, which convinces him to let it go by promising him the power to grant any wish he likes.  Lazy Ivan uses this to his advantage, reciting the magic words, "By will of the pike, do as I like!" before any task he needs to get done.  Soon, word about Ivan's powers reaches even the Tsar, who sends for him by tempting him with a set of new clothes.  Once Ivan arrives (he orders his stove to take him there so he can remain warm and comfortable), the tsar tells him he is in trouble for disrupting the villagers.  At the same moment, Ivan falls in love with the tsar's daughter, Ludmila, and wishes that she would fall in love with him.  When the tsar discovers this, he banishes them both, but Ivan wishes them back to shore and then wishes them a castle.  In the end, the tsar finds out and, when he realizes Ivan can destroy his kingdom if he wanted to, gives Ivan and Ludmila his blessing.  Later, "Ivan the Wise became the best ruler Rus has ever known" (p. 26).

Unlike the previous story, I struggle to find a moral point to "Ivan."  Perhaps the point was merely to entertain; this certainly is a fun, silly story in which everyone everyone ends up happy.  The transition of Ivan the Fool to Ivan the Wise is interesting, since there is no actual character development across the story.  In fact, an analysis of this story could even suggest a negative moral implication because his laziness pays off in the end.  As such, I choose believe it is just a funny story to tell children that does not necessarily try to teach a lesson.  Many Russian authors who wrote much more recently have adopted this style, so it stands to reason that fairy tales might used as a model.

"Fenist the Falcon," the third story I read, again features Baba Yaga, this time in the complete opposite role.  A young, selfless daughter, Marushka, becomes the mistress of the house after her mother dies.  She asks her father for one thing only:  a feather from Fenist the Falcon.  After many long trips searching to find this feather, the father is finally successful.  It turns out that the feather is magic, and at night the falcon turns into a boy, Fenist, trapped in falcon form by an evil spell.  When Marushka's selfish sisters banish Fenist, Marushka leaves on the long journey to find him.  She must "go to the ends of the earth; wear out three pairs of iron shoes and three iron staffs, and eat through three stone loaves" (p. 46) before she can reach her love.  She of course begins this trek and, one by one, wears through the shoes, staffs, and loaves of bread.  Along the way, she meets Baba Yaga, who gives her advice on how to reach the castle in which Fenist is trapped.  When she finally reaches this place, she bribes the queen to let her see Fenist three nights in a row; however, the queen drugs him to sleep so Marushka cannot awaken him.  On the last night, Marushka cries, and a tear falls on Fenist, breaking the spell and setting him completely free.  In the end, the queen is banished from the land.  Marushka takes her place because, as the story ends, "she was bold and wise and strong" (p. 52).

Similar to "Vasilissa," this story commends the extended efforts, patience, and determination of the young female protagonist.  I particularly enjoyed this story as I was reading it because it contains certain elements characteristic of fairy tales, especially the repetition of key events and phrases.  For instance, each of the three times Marushka meets Baba Yaga, she sings a little song to her hut in order to be allowed in.  This kind of repetition makes stories easier to recall and repeat orally, and it also helps children listening to the story remember it and engage in it.  As I read, I was thinking that this tale is almost an opposite-version of our Sleeping Beauty, in which the prince has to travel to the wake the princess.  I like this telling of a journey for love because it emphasized the difficulty of the adventure as well as rewarded her efforts.  No one violently died, and the queen was simply banished from the land. I think this is definitely a story to tell children here in America, perhaps in conjunction with Sleeping Beauty.  Then we could invite them to make the comparisons and discover their feelings about the fluid gender roles across the tales.

Although I enjoyed the translations of the stories, Andrew Breakspeare's illustrations could have been more effective.  The drawings were beautiful, and the placement of artwork seemed typical for a collection of fairy tales.  For example, there were introductory pictures on the beginning page, occasional full-page illustrations, and smaller drawings of specific important objects at crucial parts of the story.  The end of "Fenist"features a drawing of one lone feather, reminding the reader where the whole story began.  My main issue with the illustrations is that they did not seem inherently Russian.  They could have accompanied the stories if they had been from any other culture.  In a collection specifically comprised of Russian tales, translated from original tellings, Russian-style illustrations could have increased the engagement with the tales as well as made students more curious about the culture.

Still, as it is, this book offers a great view into the plentiful world of Russian folk and fairy tales, and I look forward to reading more in this same genre.

Cinderella, retold by Cynthia Rylant

                                      Retold by Cynthia Rylant with pictures by Mary Blair
                                                       New York:  Disney Press (2007)

I never was a Cinderella girl, who watched the Disney movie ad nauseum until I had it memorized.  I liked Hercules, and the Lion King, and, if there had to be a princess, I liked her paired with a Beast. So when I first pulled this book off the shelf, I had no idea what awaited me.  I opened it expecting to find a familiar story, heard so many times before that I had stopped listening.  Instead, I saw beautiful drawings coupled with beautiful sentences that opened up the story and gave it a depth and meaning I hadn't seen in a long time.

The Cinderella that Cynthia Rylant tells is simultaneously the same as the Disney movie and completely different.  The plot details, of course, tell the same story that we are all familiar with.  From beginning to end, however, Rylant emphasizes that Love was Cinderella's one dream and desire.  Literally, the end--the back cover bears just the sentence, "In silence, Love found them," along with an illustration of a glass slipper surrounded by a rose bush.  Rylant manages to address the cruelty and unfairness of Cinderella's stepfamily while still keeping the optimism and hope of Love finding her in the end.  The language is serious and descriptive, giving the reader the feeling that even though Cinderella is not in control, Rylant will take care of her.

The pages are filled with the original illustrations on which the Disney movie was based.  The soft edges of Mary Blair's pictures support the storyline of a young girl dreaming of a more hopeful future.  Her use of colors, too, supports the romantic storyline, as she ties in many shades of pink, sparkles, and flowers.  The familiarity of the images also helps the reader to recognize the slight differences in Rylant's telling, how she focuses not on the details of the plot but instead on the emotions and backgrounds of the characters.

Everything about the book is magical and peaceful, and I kept turning the pages eager to see what happens next as though the story were brand new.

The Golden Slipper: An Ancient Egyptian Fairy Tale

                                                           By Savior Pirotta and Alan Marks
                                             North Mankato, MN:  Sea to Sea Publications (2007)

Every culture tells fairy tales a little bit differently, and these differences reveal the values and beliefs of that nation.  In this Ancient Egyptian tale of what we can recognize as a Cinderella story, these differences seem to be a little shallow.  At the very beginning we are introduced to a young Greek girl named Rhodopis, a graceful and elegant dancer.  One day, she was dancing on the shore and was kidnapped by Egyptian pirates.  When they reached land, she was sold as a slave to a Greek master and was forced to work with three Egyptian slaves, who made Rhodopis do all of their work because they were afraid she would be their master's favorite.  Despite this, he did bring her home a beautiful gift:  golden slippers.  The other slaves were jealous and, when word came that the Pharaoh was looking for a wife, they tricked her.  While they traveled to the Pharaoh, she was forced to stay behind and do the cleaning.  Then, even worse, a falcon swooped in and stole one of her slippers!  It flew all the way to the Pharaoh and dropped it on his lap; the Pharaoh took it as a sign and proclaimed that whichever girl fit into the slipper would be his wife.  From here, the story is familiar:  the Pharaoh travels the land and, despite the slaves' attempts to hide Rhodopis from him, the truth comes out and she becomes queen, living happily ever after.

Although there are aspects of this tale which could inform children's knowledge of Egyptian culture, overall the text and drawings don't connect.  The cover illustration is taken from the climax of the story, when the falcon flies off with Rhodopis's golden slipper, which gives away a crucial part of the story from the first glance.  The illustrations in the story are very expressive:  the three jealous slaves always look mad or mischievous, Rhodopis looks appropriately happy or sad, and the pirates at the beginning look tough and scary.  Beyond that, however, I think they fall short.  In a story about Ancient Egypt, I had some high expectations:  much has been discovered about Egyptian writings, drawings, and traditions that could be worked into the illustrations.  I was disappointed to find almost nothing Egyptian at all about the style except for the Pharaoh's distinctive crown and the three slaves' long black hair and heavy makeup.  I feel like this was a missed opportunity to inform the readers about the rich history and culture of the Ancient Egyptians.

One thing that I did like about this book, however, is that it put the well-known version of Cinderella right after the Egyptian one.  This would help young readers to see the connections between the tale they know from Disney and a tale they may not have heard before.  

To sum it all up, while the story itself is enjoyable, if predictable, it reveals almost nothing about the culture from which it came.  The drawings are pretty but are not specific to the Egyptian culture, leaving the viewer/reader feeling like something big is missing from the tale, regardless of its happy ending.

The Kissing Hand

                           by Audrey Penn and illustrated by Ruth E. Harper and Nancy M. Leak
                                                        Washington, DC:  Child & Family Press (1993)

As the foreword to this story discusses, children are often faced with difficult situations that they may not know how to handle.  In this gentle and love-filled picturebook, young Chester Raccoon is nervous about going to school for the first time and leaving his mom behind.  These nerves are a great example for young readers because Chester mentions reasons that many children can understand:  he wants to play with friends and toys, read books, and swing on swings.  His mother reassures him first by pointing out all the fun things he will get to do in school and then sharing with Chester the secret of "the kissing hand," which is a kiss in the middle of his palm that reminds him, whenever he feels sad or lonely, that she loves him.  

The illustrations match the text well.  Even though the characters are raccoons, Harper and Leak manage to portray real emotions on the pages.  Chester has tears in his eyes, for instance, when he is initially telling his mom about his fears.  Later, when he learns about the kissing hand, both Chester and his mother are looking down at his palm in a way that conveys comfort and understanding.  Mrs. Raccoon is drawn in a motherly fashion:  her arms are around Chester when he is sad and her hand forms the sign for "I love you" as he runs off to meet his classmates.  These small details add to the experience of the story by reinforcing the idea of familial stability even when children are uncertain.

Chester's emotions can also remind students that being nervous before school is natural and okay; many other children are probably feeling the same way.  Mrs. Raccoon's gentle reaction to Chester's fears can reassure children that they will have support when they face a new situation.

My favorite part of the story comes just before Chester runs off to school.  His mother has already shared the Kissing  Hand with him and told him that she loves him.  In return, he kisses her hand to remind her that she, too, can be comforted by his love.  A sentimental story about the power of love, The Kissing Hand is a great read for the beginning of the school year to young children to remind them that though they might be experiencing something new, the love of a family member or friend can help them through it.

Glass Slipper, Gold Sandal: A Worldwide Cinderella

                           by Paul Fleischman and illustrated by Julie Paschkis
                                        New York:  Henry Holt and Co.  (2007)

In a Disney-fied country where the word "princess" brings to mind a sparkly dress, matching crown, and glass slippers, it can be easy to remain unaware of the long tradition of fairy tales in other cultures which far predate our own.  In Fleischman's retelling of the familiar tale of Cinderella, cultures which are normally never associated are represented on the same page, introducing new insights to the traditional story of a mistreated girl who finally finds love.  The translations from different countries--including Mexico, Zimbabwe, Indonesia, Russia, and Ireland, among many others--seamlessly tell the familiar story without any disconnects other than differing cultural details.  For example, when the girl is dressing for the ball, Fleischman represents different countries' ideas of her garments: in Indonesia, she wears "a sarong made of gold," while in China she wears "a cloak sewn of kingfisher feathers" and in Japan "a kimono red as sunset."  Still, these details do not distract from the story in the slightest.  On the contrary, they offer a new insight into unfamiliar traditions and cultures.

The very beginning and the very end of the story, however, are purposely generic.  In this way, Fleischman maintains the universality of the tale, rather than giving one example of a beginning and an end.  I appreciate this detail because it calls attention to the unique format of the book:  it creates a frame that forces the reader to think back and notice all the details.  This could easily have been lost had Fleischman chosen to focus these pages on one specific culture.

The illustrations are an integral part of the unique format of the story, as well.  Each section of the story is labeled and decorated with a distinct color and style to identify the source country.  These colors remain consistent throughout the book; when a pink section comes up, for instance, the reader knows the words are from India.  The figures themselves, too, change with the cultural source.  The girl and her sisters look different on pages from Ireland, for example, than on pages from Japan.  Even more impressive, however, is the illustration work in the background of the pages.  Included in each drawing is not only the scene being described but also certain distinct cultural or national symbols.  On German pages, for instance, the characters have side buns, as is often represented, and the Irish pages contain Irish knots and Celtic-style designs.  To master one of these styles would be an impressive feat on its own; Paschkis has somehow managed proficiently represent them all in a recognizable and respectable way.

In the end, the reader/viewer is left with a sense of comfort and familiarity:  in substituting details from other nations, Fleischman adds nothing that completely changes the plot of the tale.  Because it is remarkably similar to the story our children are used to hearing, it allows them to focus on the new details:  that the Indian Cinderella wears diamond anklets instead of glass slippers, or that the Russian Cinderella finds her outfit in a birch tree.  The familiar plot line and ending allow children to instead open themselves up to learning about these new and unfamiliar people who, they might realize, are really not much different from us.

You Can't Take a Balloon into the Metropolitan Museum

By Jacqueline Preiss Weitzman and Robin Preiss Glasser
New York:  Dial Books for Young Readers (1998)

From cover to cover, this wordless picturebook creatively uses color and contrasts to tell the story of a young girl with a yellow balloon at the MET.  When the little girl and her grandmother arrive, the museum guard tells them she cannot bring in her balloon.  They convince him to tie it to the railing and watch it for them until they are finished.  As soon as they leave, a bird unties the balloon, and the storyline then follows the guard around the city as he chases the balloon, gathering quite a crowd as he does so.  Paralleling his journey is the little girl's reaction to different pieces of art in the museum.  Each page presents a famous work of art in the museum and matches it with a clever recreation in the city.  Emmanuel Gottlieb Leutze's famous work, "Washington Crossing the Delaware" (see link below), for example, is recreated with all the characters in a rowboat.  In this way, the little girl and her balloon are both experiencing art--she in the original form and the balloon in life in New York City.

 On each page, color is selectively used in order to divert the viewer's attention to the characters in the main storyline.  The little girl's balloon, for example, is bright yellow, which stands out from the black and white pedestrians, building, streets, and cars throughout the city.  Further, at the beginning of the story only the little girl, her grandmother, and the balloon are colored.  Next is the guard, and one by one the people he encounters and who join him on his quest to recapture the balloon are given color, bringing the story  to life.  In the background, in black and white, life goes on as usual.

Angles and lines are also used to communicate with the viewer.  At the beginning of the story, for instance, the little girl is reaching back from her grandmother to her balloon and it is leaning towards her; as she enjoys the artwork more, however, she and the balloon are usually pointing in the same direction.

The viewer is drawn into this story from the very front cover.  It is a great use of imagination and an easy story to talk about with young children, who can relate to the young main character seeing the Metropolitan Museum for the very first time.  The story also relates the importance of seeing art in the ordinary:  even a hodgepodge group of dog walkers, circus trainers, and musicians can be artistic and beautiful in their own way.  I love this story because it involves imagination and creativity on the part of the viewer and because it uses color to tell the story in a way that even words could not.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Washington_Crossing_the_Delaware_by_Emanuel_Leutze,_MMA-NYC,_1851.jpg

The Wonderful Happens

                                               by Cynthia Rylant and illustrated by Coco Dowley
                                           New York:  Simon & Schuster Books for Young Reader (2000)

The Wonderful Happens describes the beauty of the little things in life in a simple, formulaic picturebook for young children.  The repetition of certain key phrases helps children follow along with the reader, and the use of common, everyday objects makes the subject relatable.  The illustrations are drawn in a familiar style, depicting recognizable objects and settings in comforting colors, with each page having a single theme or focus.

The text introduces natural processes in an easy-to-understand way.  For instance, the process of making bread is simplified to:  "The Earth grew wheat, the wheat made flour, and the wonderful happened:  bread."  Such descriptions are a good way to introduce the idea of processes to young children, who are beginning to ask many questions about the things they see around them on a daily basis.

Not only does the text present common vocabulary (bread, bird, rose), encouraging the beginning stages of literacy, but it also brings the focus back to the child for the conclusion by adding "you" to the list of wonderful things.  This reinforces in a simple way the idea that each child is unique, special, and loved.

It is never too early to start seeing beauty and wonder in the even the smallest details, and Rylant's text seems like a good place to start.

Alligator Boy

                                                           by Cynthia Rylant and Diane Goode
                                                                         New York:  Harcourt (2007)

As children go through school, they can struggle with hard questions:  Do I fit in?  Will I make friends?   What if I like something that no one else does?  Rylant and Goode cleverly address these identity issues in Alligator Boy by describing a young boy who, as the inside of the dust jacket reads, "is tired of being a boy. He wants to be somebody new...."  The story tells of his decision to instead be an alligator!  He goes to school, makes friends, does homework and classroom chores, and even learns how to fight off bullies.

Disguised as a tale about an alligator boy, this book can teach children the values of being true to yourself and accepting those around you regardless of different interests or backgrounds.  The illustrations throughout the story depict the alligator boy enjoying school and playing with his friends, showing that even though he is different from people around him, they still accept and love him.  A good book to discuss with children about non-conformity, Alligator Boy is a story with a limited plot but a very important lesson.