TAKE A RIDE ON THE READING RAILROAD--The September Carnival of Children's Literature

Today you're invited to Take A Ride on the Reading Railroad, where you'll find links to great books and blogs. Enjoy!




An important part of planning any long train trip is deciding what books to take. For this journey, you pick Book Of A Thousand Days by Shannon Hale ( Becky's Book Reviews), Eclipse by Stephanie Meyer (Jen Robinson's Book Page), Chasing Vermeer (A Wrung Sponge) and finally, Harry Sue by Sue Stauffacher (Read, Read, Read ).

When you arrive at the train station, what do you see across the street but a used bookstore you've never been to before- Under the Radar Books. You check your watch- plenty of time. And it was worthwhile --lots of great books on the shelves courtesy of Semicolon, and an old favorite by Mollie Hunter (Charlotte's Library).

There's the train pulling in. Time to board the Reading Railroad! The conductor shows you to your seat, and as you get settled, she hands you a book--A Child's Delight (From Here In the Bonny Glen). "With the compliments of the Railroad," she says, and turns to the next passenger, a woman with a tiny infant. She hands them a different book-- "It's never too early," she says. "We give this book, Foggy Cat, to every baby on board (A Typical Life).

As you take your seat, you notice a complimentary Train Newspaper. The bag of books next to you must wait while you read the fabulous articles --there's an interview with Helen Dunmore (Big A little a) , there's an introduction to Whoopeekiddies.com (A Meeting Place for All Home Office Women ), and a fun book cover meme to play--"Who's writing a children's book about YOU?" (Trinity Prep School). You learn that Banned Books Week is September 29 - October 6! (Critic's Corner), and that L'Engle tops the list of Top 10 Authors who got rejected 26 Times (Sam Riddleburger). And you read with great amusement Grapefruit Moon and Other Stories posted at Saints and Spinners in the letters section.

There are also reviews of books new and old. Some of the books you've never heard of -Home of the Brave, by Katherine Applegate (Literary Safari), and a very intriguingly titled picture book called The Fabulous Bouncing Chowder, which turns out not to be about soup in the hands of a 2 year old (Wild Rose Reader). And you meet old friends again-- In Praise of the Rabbit (Zucchinis in Bikinis), and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Eclectic Commons).

And on the last page, there's an original story about Sputnick, seeing the light of day for the first time (here and here) (Bartography).

On the train is a child who's learning to read; without being too obvious, you peer over to see the book-- Hey Tabby Cat! , from the Brand New Readers Series(Adventures in Daily Living). Looks good. A grandmother pulls out book after book for her dear grandchildren--"These are 10 Children's Car Books I Love," she says. (Ask Patty-Automotive Advice for Women). But all the children soon turn their attention to a woman retelling Johnny Appleseed with a silly read-aloud twist (Little Blue School)

Feeling a bit restless, you decide to walk along the train, only to find there's a book store car! You scoop up 10 Minutes 'Till Bedtime, and admire The Beautiful World of Jan Brett (Mommy Auctions ). And then you grab 25+ Great Science and Nature Books for Five to Eight Year olds (Chicken Spaghetti) --they look too good to pass up. You add The Down To Earth Guide to Global Warming (Natural Family Living Blog) to your stack, and stagger out of the store. As you leave, you chuckle to hear a small girl bewailing the sad consequences of too much maternal book buying (Karen Edmisten).

A little further on is the lounge car. As you enter, a video begins to play on the large screen at the end of the car--your eyes are drawn to "An Abundance of Kidlit Goodies" (A Fuse #8 Production).

After curling up in peace with your books for a while, the train slows down. Your books seem to have made themselves at home, and as you are burrowing under your chair, the conductor appears with a final amenity-- a large empty box. Clutching the now full box to your chest, you climb down onto the platform.

An elderly gentleman approaches, and hands you $200. "You passed GO!" he says. "Time to buy more books!"

"But I have books..."

"Never enough," he answers, and heads over to the next passenger.

You notice that the walls of the station are plastered with signs advertising bookshelves, carpenters, and promises such as "House Collapsing? We can help!" and "We'll build you a bookery out back." Now you know the secret behind The Reading Railroad. It is all a plot.

I hope you've enjoyed your ride on the Reading Railroad! Thanks to everyone for their contributions, and thanks in particular to Melissa of Here in the Bonny Glen, the mastermind behind the Carnival of Children's Literature!

Misc. announcements

The current issue of The Edge of the Forest is up and running for your reading pleasure. This is a monthly online journal of children's literature, well worth visiting if you haven't already.

The Cybils are coming! Nominations for your favorite books of 2007 open on October 1! I am tickled as all get out to be involved this year, as one of the ya fiction nominating panel.

The New England Independent Booksellers Association is meeting in Providence, RI at the end of this week. There's a Children's Books Author/Illustrator Dinner (sponsored by Bookazine) on Thursday night (the 27th, from 6-10, Westin Hotel, advance ticket required). The guest speakers include

Natalie Babbitt Jack Plank Tells Tales, Scholastic,
Helen Lester & Lynn Munsinger The Sheep in Wolf's Clothing, Houghton Mifflin and
Jerry Spinelli Love, Stargirl, Knopf.

I'm going to be there, feeling rather shy. Anyone else?

And finally, watch this space for the September Carnival of Children's literature, which should be up this evening or tomorrow morning...d.v.

Well, if it gets people reading, maybe it's ok

From today's Guardian, via Fidra Books:

News that Jordan's contribution to the world of fiction, Crystal (159,407 sold and counting), is outselling the whole of the Booker shortlist (120,770 in total) might cause a shiver of alarm in some quarters. But to devotees of the fast-growing genre of celebrity novels, it comes as no surprise.

.

On a more positive note, I also read in Fidra's blog that Fidra is opening a children's bookstore in Edinburgh- there's a call out to "any children’s authors reading this who are willing to come and do a reading/signing in Edinburgh." It's a lovely city--if I were a children's author, I'd sign up.

It is bad to send books to the landfill

I have a burial site in the woods behind my house, a place where I take dead books--random encyclopedia volumes, water-damaged novels of yesteryear, corpses of books no one wants, even for free. They come my way because I run my local library's book sale, and there I am, with all these books on my hands. Our local landfill is filling up fast, my town is dumping too much trash-weight, and the books are heavy. So I bury them out in the woods. Wood pulp to wood pulp.

I could be making art out of them.



For more of artist Brian Dettmer's "book autopsies" you can go here.

Robin Mckinley has a blog!

For those of you, like me, who have visited Robin Mckinley's website and stared sadly at the new news that isn't there very often at all, there is good news--she has just started a blog.

Trains for Poetry Friday

In honor of the upcoming Carnival of Children's Literature--Take A Ride on the Reading Railroad! (please see the post just before this one to hop on board) I have train poems today for Poetry Friday.

Here's an old favorite:

Travel, by Edna St. Vincent Millay (from Second April, 1921)

The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with the friends I make,
And better friends I'll not be knowing,
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,
No matter where it's going.

Here's another I like, by Edward Thomas

Adlestrop

Yes, I remember Adlestrop--
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop - only the name

And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.

And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.

Aldestrop actually looks like a place I'd like to go.

Here's a new one that tickles me, from a webpage of collected Train Haiku etc

on the train
my usual thoughts
about derailment

- John Stevenson (who I think is this John Stevenson.

And finally, here's a link to one of the more famous train poems, the Night Mail, by WH Auden--
"This is the Night Mail crossing the border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order"

And now I have that wretched Thomas the Tank Engine song in my head-- "hear the sound of the night train, the clickety clack of the night train..." Speaking of Thomas, there's a list at Amazon called "Beyond Thomas: Train Fiction and Poetry for Young Children." There's some good stuff on it.

There is also lots of good stuff at the Poetry Friday Roundup today, hosted by Sara at Read Write Believe.

ps: One more family favorite train poem, by Scotland's inimitable poet, William McGonagall.

Here's the opening of The Tay Bridge Disaster

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

The bridge collapsed in 1879, not long after McGonagall had written a poem in its praise. Here's a link to the full text of this truly memorable poem.

The Train to the CARNIVAL OF CHILDREN'S LITERATURE leaves at midnight

TAKE A RIDE ON THE READING RAILROAD: Call for submissions for the September 2007 Carnival of Children's Literature


Take a Ride on the Reading Railroad here at Charlotte's Library when the September Carnival of Children's Literature comes to town!



If you'd like to hop on board, head on over to BlogCarnival and link up your posts.

The train is leaving TODAY, Friday, Sept. 21 at midnight eastern time, arriving at the beginning of the following week (unless there's a cow on the line). So get your links linked early and often!

If you haven't been part of a Blog Carnival before, do not be put off by feelings of shyness and uncertainty. It is very easy-- you just create a link to your favorite post from the past month or so, and slip it into a slot at the Blog Carnival website.

Here are some links to past carnivals: the very first one, at Here in the Bonny Glen (Melissa is still the carnival organizer--thanks, Melissa!) The most recent one, here at Po Moyemu--In my opinion, and the one before that at Saints and Spinners.

Thanks!

Science Detectives: How scientists solved six real life mysteries

I have the sort of child who says, "Mama, can you tell me the story about Rachel Carson and DDT again?" I've got the DDT story down pat, but I'm a bit chagrined about how few other science stories like that I know. Hence my great pleasure in finding at the library a very fun book called Science Detectives: how scientists solved six real-life mysteries. It's written by the editors of YES magazine, illustrated by Rose Cowles, 2006, 48 pages, recommended for ages 9-12, but good for reading out loud.


There's more in this book than the title would have you believe-although there are six main stories, that get told in several pages, there are also quite a few smaller one page stories, extra explanatory paragraphs, and science activities to do at home. The science stories include the story of Typhoid Mary, the vanishing vultures of India (almost as good as the DDT story, but without, as yet, the happy ending), the Ice Man, and others. They are illustrated with mainly with cartoonish paintings, which keeps the tone light, although some real photos are included. Both male and female scientists are represented, although there are more men.

I've sometimes felt that non-fiction books for kids have a tendancy to go overboard on the "fact-bite" sidebars etc., making the books tricky to read out loud. Although there are sidebars in this book, there is a great deal of narrative cohesion to the stories themselves, so that they are, in fact, stories--they can be read aloud very nicely.

I like this book lots-- the story telling is crisp, the material very, very interesting, and the pictures are harmless enough to me, amusing to the children. We started reading it last night, and I was begged to finish it in the car on the way to school.

Two negative notes:
1. The book would have been improved by a bibliography, or at least suggestions for further reading.

2. A while ago there was a bit of chat in various blogs about the image kid's have of "the scientist"--the majority draw a white man in a white lab coat in a lab with test tubes. The cover of this book shows that guy, but also a dark skinned woman in a lab coat etc. which I suppose is something. What pictures there are of scientists inside the book show them outside of a lab (although one guy is wearing surgical scrubs--he's working with the ice man), but the one photo of a woman scientist is a posed formal portrait, so this book isn't going to dispel many visual stereotypes.

Owly

A few days ago, I posted about the floods of tears I found myself in while reading about the death of a honey bee to my children. Yesterday, I'm pleased (I guess) to report that my older son had a similar experience, crying over a book for the first time (it's not that I want them to be sad, per se, but I think it's important to learn that crying over books is ok). And the book that provoked this reaction--another graphic book, one of the sweetest, most poignant books I've read (if one can "read" a book that has no words) --- Owly-- The Way Home and The Bittersweet Summer, by Andy Runton (2004).

These are two separate stories, about an owl's desperate need for friends. I was just looking at the first few pages up on line here at Andy Runton's website (click on the picture of the book), and Owly's lonely sadness made me weepy all over again. Even after the birds fly from him, he still puts seeds out for them...Poor lonely Owl. After the birds and fireflies reject him, he saves a drowning worm. But when he takes the worm home to its parents, they slam the door in his face, and we see him walking away, alone again, so sad (this is where my son lost it). I am so glad that (spoiler) he and Wormy were together at the end. Phew. "The Bittersweet Summer" is much less fraught, because Owly and Wormy are still friends, although the discerning reader can guess from the title that there are still tricky bits emotionally speaking.

I "read" this out loud to my children, which was challenging, because it has almost no words, and I didn't want to add any. So mostly I just made lots of sad noises, and some happy noises. It seemed to work. But it is hard to know when to turn the page--I see faster than they do.

I've just ordered Owly books two, three and four (A Time To be Brave, coming out in October) for my local library.



And if you go to the San Diego Comic-con, you can get an Owly hat. How cute is that! But why, following links promoting Owly mechandize to this end point can you by a men's owly tee shirt, but not a boys? The only kids tee shirt for sale is described as a "girly-T." If I buy one for my son, will he be mocked?

Happy Constitution Day

Happy Constitution Day, everybody! Here it is, in all its glory. I have been trying, at various points in my life, to memorize the amendments, and slowly I'm making progress.

I was curious to see what a google search for "children's books Constitution Day" would produce. Mostly it seems to be the "celebrating America" type of book (see here, for example). It seems to me more to the point to compile lists of books that describe the need for the amendments, the struggle to enact them, and the consequences of their enactment. The amendments may perhaps be hard to memorize but they are oh so important to our lives, and what better way to learn about them than through fiction? (I say, as one who learns most easily that way).

Take, for instance, the story behind Amendment 26, the voting right set at 18 years, passed in 1971. Before 1971, you could drink and get drafted at 18, but not vote, now you can vote and get drafted, but not drink. Hmmm....But has this amendment made it into a ya book yet as an interesting (?) sub-plot?

Here are two amendments particularly rich in Story Potential:

Amendment 13 - Slavery Abolished. Ratified 12/6/1865 -- Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.

Amendment 19 - Women's Suffrage. Ratified 8/18/1920--the right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.

I thought it would be easy-peasy to go on line and find rich bibliographies of children's fiction (not picture books) on these two topics, but I was wrong. If they are out there, where are they? Sure, some places list two or three books, but is that it?

One of the more immediately relevant amendments for bloggers would be the First Amendment. A good book on this topic is Nothing but the Truth, by Avi, and here's a guide to discussion about it. There must be more books out there on freedom of speech, but they aren't coming into my head. Perhaps I should go look at the lists of banned and challenged books.

Anyway, I'm here celebrating Constitution Day by exercising my freedom of speech, blogging cheerfully away, with little real fear of government interference. Here are some voices from elsewhere in the world on that topic.

Library love

I love my library, with all its red brick ex-school building charm (at least, I work very hard to believe it is charm).

But here are some libraries that don't require any effort at all to love (unless you are a stark modernist, which is fine. We can all agree that less is sometimes more). Thanks for the link, Patrick!

TAKE A RIDE ON THE READING RAILROAD: Call for submissions for the September 2007 Carnival of Children's Literature

Take a Ride on the Reading Railroad here at Charlotte's Library when the September Carnival of Children's Literature comes to town!

If you'd like to hop on board, head on over to BlogCarnival and link up your posts.

The train is leaving on Friday, Sept. 21 at midnight eastern time, arriving at the beginning of the following week (unless there's a cow on the line). So get your links linked early and often!

If you haven't been part of a Blog Carnival before, do not be put off by feelings of shyness and uncertainty. It is very easy-- you just create a link to your favorite post from the past month or so, and slip it into a slot at the Blog Carnival website.

Here are some links to past carnivals: the very first one, at Here in the Bonny Glen (Melissa is still the carnival organizer--thanks, Melissa!) The most recent one, here at Po Moyemu--In my opinion, and the one before that at Saints and Spinners.

Thanks!

Clan Apis

Yesterday, I wept more over a book than I have for years. I was reading it out loud, and could barely choke out the words between sobs. It was a disservice to the book-- my children were so busy staring at me with half-alarmed amusement that they had little attention left for the poignant words and pictures.

What was this tear jerker? A graphic novelized version of the life of a honey bee, by Jay Hosler (2000, 158pp, which might seems like a lot for a reading out loud book, but it goes very quickly). "They" say it's for kids 9-12, but my four year old and I both liked it lots, so there you are.

We first meet Nyuki, the bee heroine of the story, when she is a little larva (cute and sassy), and follow her through the kind of intimidating things that happen when you're a bee--metamorphosis, leaving the hive for the first time, learning that the more you fly, the faster your wings wear out, and finally, dying (whah).

A truly excellent book--good science, good story, good pictures, good messages (things like: compost is good. Even though someone (a dung beetle) seems really strange and does things you think are yucky you can still be friends. Females are smart and brave). It was good reading practice too-- although I can read just fine when I'm not sniffing, my seven year old still doesn't read to himself--and a book like this gives him a chance to be one character while I do everyone else.

If you want to learn more about the book and the bees, visit its great website. Among other things, the website has a summary of the science topics covered in each section of the book. And it is science that one can trust--Jay Hosler is, after all, a neurobiologist who studies olfactory processing in honey bees.

A minor touch that we greatly enjoyed was an introductory page of pictures of bees drawn by children of all ages and skills -- from sausages with wings to real "nature drawings." I found it inspiring, and imagine that kids would too (mine, as usual, refused to comment in a useful or meaningful fashion when I asked them).

In short, if you have a kid who likes both Calivn and Hobbs and non-fiction, fact filled books, Clan Apis would be prefect. Or if you have a kid who has never tried a graphic novel, and who isn't wild about science, this book would be perfect.

For Poetry Friday: The Shell, by Ted Hughes

My older boy has an enlightened second grade teacher--instead of set assignments, they have homework choices each week, and one of these is always the memorization of a poem. Here's the poem all of us ended up memorizing this past week:

The Shell, by Ted Hughes

The sea fills my ear
with sand and with fear.

You may wash out the sand,
but never the sound
of the ghost of the sea
that is haunting me.

This poem is anthologized in The Mermaid's Purse, by Ted Hughes, illustrated by Flora McDonnell (2000). I looked at it with some suspicion when my husband brought it home (associating Ted Hughes, in my ignorance, with suicide and darkness), but now I think it is a lovely book. Ostensibly it's for children 4-8, but to heck with that. I think that with poems such as this, the older you get the more meanings you can see.

In this case, we talked about what "the ghost of the sea" might mean. The children do not yet (I think) have much experience with regret, loss, and the cruel relentless inexorable erosion of the coast of life by the passage of years (ha ha), although they are aware of global warming and we are all glad we live on high ground. Nor do they truly realize that even though we live within 45 minutes of beaches we didn't go once this summer (although there's still tomorrow) and therefore they have Bad Parents (but I really hate sand in my shoes). So the ghost of the sea might not have as many layers of meaning for them as it does for me, but they will come. And in the meantime, the children still like the poem.

For more about Ted Hughes, here's a review of his collected poems from Kelly at Big A littl a.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at here at Hipwritermama today!

A Year's Worth of Book Buying for my Library

The Annual Meeting of the Friends of my library was last night (I'm the president). In the last year, we raised over $4000, and spent over $4000. More than half of that we spent on books, and I would just like to say thanks to all the blog reviewers out there whose advice I took in buying 219 j and ya books for the library! Now all we need is more kids to come in and check them out. I'm also a little proud that we raised $1000 to send to Biloxi, to help rebuild the Katrina ravaged libraries there. A drop in the bucket, but still.

Once harmless pictures for children, now Bird of the Devil

In the 1970s, many of us British-educated types enjoyed the Ladybird series of non-fiction books, and in fact found them strangely compelling (I, for instance, still have my Ladybird Life of Nelson, which I read repeatedly as a child despite having little interest in a. Nelson b. Naval Warfare c. the early 19th century). I find even more strangely compelling the Ladybird inspired work of a modern artist, Edward Summerton, who has taken birds of prey pictures from the original books, and Paganized them, turning them into Demon Birds!

From this type of bird illustration:



to this:


The demonic bird on the right is called "Tree Creepy." Not something I would put up on the wall of my kid's room, perhaps, but charming in its own demonic way. The series of pictures has been published (in Denmark) as: "Bird [sic] of the Devil."
Here's the full article.

The New Policeman by Kate Thompson, 2005, 279 pages.

In the village of Kinara in Ireland, a young fiddle player, J.J. Liddy, asks his mother what she wants for her birthday. "Time," she answers, with good reason. All the time in Ireland is pouring into the land of Tir na N'og, and J.J. finds himself racing to find the leak before time runs out, discovering the truth about his family's past in the process, and learning some great new tunes.

The New Policeman is fun, fast-paced, and engaging. Thompson fleshes her plot out with music--J.J. comes from a family that has Irish traditional music at its heart, and each chapter ends with a tune transcribed by Thompson. As the wife of an Irish piper and sometime fiddle player myself (although I stopped when my oldest was born, because my playing made him scream), it was fun to see the tunes she chose, and fun to read her descriptions of the music with a critical eye ("anarchic" is not a word I would use to describe it. It has lots and lots of rules, both musical and social).

I enjoyed reading the book. I managed to find time to read it basically in one go on an evening alone with the kids while my husband was off playing at a local session (I sent them outside repeatedly, so it was a win-win). But it didn't move me emotionally. I didn't find a scrap of numinousness in it--that feeling in the best fantasy books when your eyes get all big and you perhaps feel a bit shivery. Tir na n'Og was mostly just a neat sunny place. When it was supposed to be a bit scary, Thompson basically says "this bit felt a bit scary." Nor was there any depth to the characters. J.J. is never more than your basic Nice Boy; everybody else is primarily a place holder.

Still, I will be reading the sequel, The Last of the High Kings, as soon as it makes it over here. Here's a glowing review of it from a UK reader.

Others apparently see things in The New Policeman that I don't--it won the Children’s Books Ireland Bisto Book of the Year, the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize 2005, the Whitbread Book Award Children’s category 2005, the Children's Book of the Year in the Irish Book Awards in March 2006 and has been longlisted for the Carnegie Medal.

Note: No musical metaphors were used in the writing of this review. If musical metaphors are what you really want, read the reviews at Amazon. You will find lots.

Poetry Friday-- Bike Riding and its bloody consequences

My son got his first real sans-training wheels bike yesterday, a move inspired by the conversation he just had with his pediatrician:

Dr: So, can you ride a bike?
Son: "Well, my parents promised me a bike months ago but they still haven't gotten it for me."
Dr: "And do you brush your teeth yourself?"
Son: "Well, I'd like to, but there's no toothpaste in the tube, and my parents said they'd buy me some more but they haven't."

So now he has to learn to ride the thing (and to work harder at getting the toothpaste dregs out of the tube. There's plenty left).

For Poetry Friday, here are some poems celebrating the wonder and pain that is the Bike:

INJURY by Edel Wignell* (first published in School Magazine)

We raced our bikes and crashed.
I looked at the gash, and swooned.
Then my Dad discovered a bandage
And wound it round the wound.

MARY AND THE BIKE by Ed Blair, 1901 (Kansas Zephyrs, p. 143)

Mary had no little bike__
Like other kids at school
And so she stole the teacher's out,
Which was against the rule.
The teacher chased, but 'twas in vain,
For she flew like a fairy
Until the bike shied at a rock
And pied itself and Mary.**

And lastly, check out "Because I could not stop my bike" by Karen Jo Shapiro, in the book of that name, illustrated by Matt Faulkner (2005). It's a collection of very funny parodies of well known poems.



My favorite learning to ride a bike episode in children's fiction is Randy, in The Four Story Mistake, by Elizabeth Enright-- when she turned right, saw the long steep hill headed down through town, and forgot how to brake...

For more poems, you could check out The Art of Bicycling: a Treasury of Poems, Justin Daniel Belmont, ed., Breakaway Books, 2005.


*Edel Wignell is an Australian writer of chapter books, picture books, and poetry (as well as grown up books). I've never read any of her books, but browsing through the list on line I saw several that looked good (The Long Sticky Walk, in particular).

**I thought this one was interesting both because it seemed pretty early for it to be normal for a girl to be riding around on a bike, and because I liked the use of "pied" as a verb.


The POETRY FRIDAY roundup is at Semicolon today. Enjoy!

Language, Metaphor, and Children's Literature

There's a conference on children's literature coming up October 26 and 27th at Trinity College (University of Toronto)-- Particles of Narrative: Language, Metaphor, and Children's Literature.

This is the talk I'd like to hear:

Megan Whalen Turner: Reality in Suspension

If our fiction is a solution of reality dissolved in fantasy, what particles of reality are suspended there? Are these what Coleridge suggested in Biographia Literaria must be transferred “to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith”? Love, Loss, and Bad Judgment are embedded in our fiction, as well as historical events, snapshots of Greece, Oxford, The University of Waterloo, and things even more prosaic – what we had for dinner last night, noses, bilateral symmetry, and the assumptions of the day. The reader is the catalyst that acts in this solution. What precipitates then, when a reader reads?

Just in case the name Megan Whalen Turner rings no bells, she is the author of some of my favorite books ever -- The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, and The King of Attolia.

But perhaps more people will be eager to go to the Friday night keynote address:

PHILIP PULLMAN Poco a Poco: The Fundamental Particles of Narrative

Philip Pullman will look at the smallest possible units of story and, taking one such particle as an example, show what these microscopic events do in the context of a longer narrative, and how they acquire meaning, emotional power and metaphorical complexity.

Here's the link to the full program.

The Moon Princess

Dakota Blue Richards is having a busy year. After being Lyra in The Golden Compass movie, she's about to be Maria, in the movie version of A Little White Horse (The Moon Princess). I know that the question of whether an actor looks like the character as described in the book is not one that concerns the people who cast movies (Emma Watson is not my idea of Pauline, nor is she Noel Streatfeild's). But this picture of Dakota Blue Richards looks exactly like Maria as described in the book:

And I just learned that Colin Firth is going to be Sir Benjamin -sounds good. The Official site about the movie doesn't confirm this, however.

Here's an earlier post I wrote about the Little White Horse/Moon Princess. I am more optimistic now.

Max's Words

Max's Words, by Kate Banks, illustrated by Boris Kulikov, 2006, 32 pages,
ages 4-8.

Our librarian flung this book at our heads a few days ago. It was a happy choice (the book, not our heads). Not only did we enjoy reading it, it inspired an hour of "literacy activities" that made me feel like a Good Parent.

The plot is simple--Max has two brothers, one an avid philatelist, the other an equally avid numismatist. But will they give Max a single stamp or coin? No. So Max decides to start his own collection--of words. He cuts them out of newspapers and magazines, and copies them from the dictionary (it was scary for a minute there. I thought he was going to cut up the book). Soon he has heaps and heaps of words, in pile after pile.

Words are pretty neat things (even banal, overused ones). Words that tell stories are especially nice (a word I will defiantly continue to use, even though my fourth grade teacher told me not too. Darn it). Max begins to use his words together, and the fun really begins as they turn into Stories.

The words are not just any old words, but Illustrated, Colorful, Alive words that are rapidly evolving into concrete poetry. "Baseball" is bat shaped, "hungry" is bitten, "alligator" and "crocodile" have spiky teeth. And when the words make stories, clever and colorful illustrations show how they fit together.

The words are so much fun, in fact, that the two older brothers want their share. They start to make their own story, and the (mild) tension builds--will they get the words together fast enough to kill the worm (bad older brothers) or will Max be able to foil them with a quick arrangement of his own words, and save it?*

The value of words in a more pragmatic sense is underlined at the end, when Max swaps piles of words for a coin and a stamp (which he can perhaps use to send his first ms. off with).

In short, this was a fun, snappy book. But wait, there's more. The real value of this book, I think, is that it makes kids (and me too) want to write words on pieces of paper, cut them up, and make stories and nonsense and poems with them. This is what we did last night--about an hour of all four of us on the living room floor, surrounded by words, and some punctuation. My little boy slept with the question mark and the exclamation mark, and took them to school today. The last I saw of them they were on the Sharing Chair, a tad doubtful, but very excited.

*the worm lives.

PS: My personal favorite book about the power of words is Murder Must Advertise, by Dorothy Sayers. My favorite book in which words come alive is Finn Family Moomintroll, by Tove Jansson.

The Cooley's Anemia Foundation Storybook

I have a book to pass on, if anyone wants it. It's a collection of fairy tales by Craig Butler, illustrated by Tess Elliott, designed specifically for children with the genetic blood disorder Cooley's anemia (aka thalassemia). Some of the stories are engaging, some pedestrian, and there are moments of great honesty, like this poem, Doctor Day:

I have to go to the doctor today
Even though the sun is shining
And I'd much rather play.
Please don't say I'm whining
Or acting "that way."
I know I must go to the doctor today.
But that doesn't mean I like it - okay?

The book, says the author in his letter that accompanied the book, "was written to help impart important lessons..." and as a result there is more than a touch of pedantic-ness to them. I dunno about the premise--I was never a sick child, but I think I would have chosen Escapism rather than Lessons. Still, perhaps for the parent of a sick child it is comforting to think that you are reading words to your child that will help.

This book was self-published in 2007 by the Cooley's Anemia Foundation. If anyone wants this copy, let me know.

Mollie Hunter -- The Sound of Chariots and Hold On To Love

Mollie Hunter is one of Scotland's most distinguished children's writers. She's perhaps best known for her historical fiction--she won the 1974 Carnegie Medal for The Stronghold, about Iron Age Scotland, and her story about Mary Queen of Scots, You Never Knew Her as I Did, is most excellent. Others of her books are fantasies, based on Scottish legends (A Stranger Came Ashore, The Mermaid Summer, and many others). But my favorite Mollie Hunter books are two that are simply "YA for girls," in that they deal with the difficult growing up of a girl-- The Sound of Chariots (1972) and Hold on to Love (1983).*

Bridie McShane is the fourth daughter of loving but impoverished parents in a village near Edinburgh. Her father is a survivor of WWI, a man of great intellect, wit, and passion for social justice; her mother is a gentle, Christian foil for him, although no less intelligent and passionate. Bridie is her father's favorite, her mind leaping to follow his ideas ("Christ was a Revolutionary!"). She is also a writer, fighting with a teacher who wants to make her words conform--the teacher changes Bridie's "green broken glass" to "broken green glass," and the magic is lost. In the second book, she has left school and gone to work in Edinburgh, living with her rigid and old fashioned grandparents, but still finding space to grow up, and (yes, I like this sort of thing) finding a nice boy to fall in love with, as WW II looms on the horizon.

The Sound of Chariots takes its title from Andrew Marvell's poem "To His Coy Mistress" -- "But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near." Because halfway through this book, Bridie's father dies, and the fact of her own on coming death hits her with an inevitability that colors her perception of life and her development as a writer. The resonance of Bridie's emotions makes this book much stronger and more original than its sequel, which has, after all, a plot that many of us may have seen before.

In the 1970s American libraries bought a lot of really good UK children's book's, which they have been busy discarding these past few years. So The Sound of Chariots might not still be on the shelves of your local library, but there are lots of cheap ex library copies for sale. The 1980s seem to have been a period of retrenchment in library buying--there don't seem to have been nearly as many UK books bought (anyone else think this?). So Hold on To Love is slightly harder to find.

I tried to find an image of the cover of the edition I had, but there aren't any on line. Here are the early hardback and paperback covers, in all their beauty (not--it's a wonder anyone ever read the poor book at all):


*These books are set in The Past --1920s and 1930s, but don't feel like historical fiction. In my mind, Historical Fiction seems to equate with longer skirts--pre WWI. By the 1920s, the long skirts aren't there to get in the way of my identifying strongly with the central character, and so I can suspend my present in favor of the author's past. However, books set in the same WWI to WWII past, about Historical Events etc, and less about a person to whom I can strongly relate, I would be much happier to pigeon hole in the Historical Fiction category.

For Poetry Friday --At The Seaside

I went to the seaside today, for work--part of my job is looking after shipwrecks. They are not as needy as my Dear Children, but still need care and attention. I can't think of any nice snappy shipwreck poems, and google didn't give me anything, but I did find this rather lovely poem by Stevenson that I'd never heard before:

At the Seaside

~Robert Louis Stevenson

When I was down beside the sea
A wooden spade they gave to me
To dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty like a cup,
In every hole the sea came up,
Till it could come no more.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Mentor Texts today. Go to the next post, and you also get the Second Picture Book Carnival. Enjoy!

And speaking of carnivals, the August Carnival of Children's Literature is up at Po Moyemu-In My Opinion. and it looks great!

The September Carnival will be hosted by me--more to come.

Harder than a Literary Weed Quiz

If you thought my weed quiz last Thursday was hard, check out this quiz from the London Times--the winner gets 10,000 pounds worth of free books, but it's not going to be me.

I don't have time to give the answers to the weed quiz today as promised, but I will do so eventually...

News from Across the Pond

Potted Potter The Reduced Shakespeare company apparently managed to get all seven Harry Potter books performed in under an hour...I knew all she needed was good editor.

Of particular interest to fans of Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons books (think Roxeboxen for older readers, but with sailboats and pirates and explorers in the Lake District of England instead of desert)--Fidra Books is republishing The Far Distant Oxus by Pamela Whitlock and Katharine Hull (ponies and ancient Persia on the moors of Devon). Pamela and Katharine co-wrote their book in their teens, and sent it off to Ransome, whom they admired greatly. He in turn took it his publisher, and there you go. I much prefer the Swallows and Amazons books, but The Far Distant Oxus has its charms, especially for those who like pony books.

A different, more crime-fightingly exciting series was The Famous Five, by Enid Blyton. I read them all (and there are many of them), and am still peeved that my mother saw fit to dispose of them when I was 11. From The Times, August 28, 2007, comes this eyebrow-raising news:

"For two decades they patrolled the English seaside during school holidays, instilling fear into smugglers, kidnappers and spies, but in 1963 the Famous Five had their final adventure.

The fates of Julian, Dick, Anne, George and Timmy, arguably the most formidable upper middle class crime-fighting squad assembled, have been open to speculation ever since.

But now the mystery is at last about to be laid to rest with a new television series. The characters are scheduled to return to the screen as middle-aged men and women in a drama authorised by Enid Blyton’s estate."

It reminds me of an article that came out in the late 70s in which a middle aged Nancy Drew is interviewed. I remember my parents reading it with great enjoyment--"Oh no, not tea," says Nancy at one point. "Tea stains my teeth."

Extreme Animals--The Toughest Creatures on Earth

Extreme Animals: The Toughest Creatures on Earth, by Nicola Davies, illustrated by Neal Layton (2006) is one of the best kid's non-fiction books I've ever read. Heck, even thought it's ostensibly a kid's book, this 61 page fact-filled, well-written, amusingly illustrated book would make a great present for the curious adult.

"We humans are such a bunch of wimps!" the book begins. "We can't stand the cold, we can't stand the heat, we can't live without food, or water, and just a few minutes without air is enough to finish us off." But there are creatures out there much, much tougher--an amazing assortment of living things who survive incredibly hostile environments. Did you know, for example, that polar bear fur is so marvellously effective at keeping warm air in that a heat-seeking mission to find the bears only glimpsed the occasional nose? Or that if you put a sponge in a blender, and then pour the glop back in the ocean, it can reassemble itself back into a living creature?

The explanations for such wondrous phenomena are clear and to the point, with helpful, and funny, illustrations that underline and clarify. Each section is one or two rather densely written pages long, sufficient for explanation, while not to long to be overwhelming. The vocabulary tends toward the accessible Anglo-Saxon, but includes Latinate sciencey words (dormancy, hibernation, etc.) as appropriate, doing the reader the compliment of not explaining them except in a glossary at the back. Despite the relative simplicity of the words, it's not an "Early Reader" in the strict sense, but it makes a great read aloud for younger kids. My 7 year old, 4 year old, their grandmother and I all loved this book.

The winner of the Toughest Creature on Earth competition, by the way, is the tardigrade. They've been heated to 300 F, frozen to -459, been put under pressure six times greater than that at the bottom of the sea, and into pressureless vacuums, they've been zapped with lethal doses of x-rays and poisoned with chemicals. And still they live...

Mystery Manor

I have never read, nor had I even heard of, Mystery Manor, a 1939 children's novel by Mary Evelyn Atkinson, despite my interest in English children's books of this period. Thanks to this post at Oz and Ends, I will look for it next time I'm in England. Very funny!

This Place I Know: Poems of Comfort

This Place I know: Poems of Comfort Edited by Georgia Heard, with 18 illustrations by "renowned picture book artists." (2002)

I picked up, more or less at random, this anthology of poems--the idea of comforting poems appealed during this late August time of endings and transitions (I had my first anxiety dream about starting 2nd grade last night). These poems were gathered with a rather more powerful purpose, however--Georgia Heard chose them for the New York City children who saw the World Trade Center fall. But whether the anxiousness-es or griefs are large or small, the poems in this book can provide a starting place for talk, or simply be a comfort in themselves. These are, incidentally, secular poems; the comfort they offer comes from images of hope and happiness, nature and the love of other people.

All anthologies are someone else's choices (unless you happen to be the editor); some choices are agreeable, some are wonderful surprises, and others fail to move. One poem, new to me, which I loved was The Peace of Wild Things, by Wendell Berry. I can't quote the whole thing here because of copyright, but here it is with the middle removed:

"When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and children's lives may be...
...I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

It is perhaps not surprising that this was my favorite, because of the parental element. Other lovely poems include "Strengthen the Things that Remain" by Nancy Wood, "Dreams," by Langston Hughes, and Emily Dickinson's poem "Hope is the thing with feathers."

Then 18 magnificent illustrators are a bit of a grab bag. I love William Steig's children's books, but the boy in his picture here is the scary type from his New Yorker cartoons. Kevin Hawkes, however, has a lovely picture to go with the Wendall Berry poem.

But who could not like

Trouble, fly
out of our house.
We left the window
open for you.

("Trouble, Fly" by Susan Marie Swanson).

The Poetry Friday Roundup is over at The Book Mine Set today! Enjoy.

Weed it and Reap

I am somewhat addicted to weeding, rising with the larks to pull up crabgrass, finding solace in time alone with the puslane. Now I know why. In the July issue of Discover magazine, I read here that inhaling a bacteria called M. vaccae found in the dirt, could "help elicit a jolly state of mind" (p. 18). In a stress response test, "Control mice swam for an average fo two and a half minutes, while the M. vaccae-injected animals paddled for four." Now I know why I am still paddling...Incidentally, the same issue of Discover has a fascinating computerized map of 18 months of hookups at a mid western high school, perhaps useful to those writing YA novels.

Back to weeding: Here's a Weeding Quiz I compiled a few years ago (for the Girls Own yahoo list) of quotes from children's/girl's books, mostly English, but a few Australian and American, mostly from the early to mid 20th century. Rather an obscure collection of source material, but possibly of some interest. I'll post the answers as an addendum to this post next week.

A Girls Own Weed quiz: please give book, author, and
names of unidentified weeders!

1. They made a start on the brambles, but it was
harder work than they had anticipated. Still, they
cleared a little patch, and Rachel dug up quantities
of thistles. As they pushed the brambles away, they
uncovered more litter and the pile grew higher and
higher.

2. Someone (Mrs Reed, they later discovered) had cut
the grass, but that was all that had been done. Weed
[sic] and flower seedlings fought for space in the
boarders, dandelions flowered along the path, and the
old apple tree, in full blossom, bent even lower over
the garden shed.

3. Dr. Mowbray waged a constant war in the garden
against couch grass, a hardy and abundant weed which
he had inherited, along with the lupins, from old Miss
Russell of Birkenshaw. It grew everywhere, it had
creeping, tenacious roots, and it had proved, so far,
impossible to get rid of. Dr. Mowbray had told Fanny
- who had already known, being at least as skilled a
gardener as he was-that there was no point in pulling
at the grass, which merely snapped off....

4. The knife in his hand was a scythe with which he
was trying to clear a path through the mass of grass
and docks and nettles in which he stood knee deep. N.
held out her hand to him.

5. ...I longed to work quietly in the walled garden.
I weeded the paths and hoed the vegetables; then, as
the morning grew really hot, I crawled under the
asparagus, drawing a big basket after me.

6. It wasn't long before they were tugging at the
long strands of convolvulus that were obliterating
several large shrubs and a hydrangea bush. They
crawled into the undergrowth searching for its roots.
"What you need to do," said D., "is throw the
weeds into a pile and make a compost heap out of
them."
(Hint: D. is a boy)

7. The front lawns were kept cut, and the hedges
trimmed, but out of sight of the house the celandine
reigned supreme; and later on in the year the daisies
flourished, and the dandelions bloomed in golden
slendour.

8. Tommy's six weeks' beans were a failure; for a dry
spell early in the season hurt them, because he gave
them no water; and after that he was so sure that they
could take care of themselves, he let the poor things
struggle with bugs and weeds till they were exhausted,
and died a lingering death.

9. Inspecting the flower-beds, she found dandelions
and groundsel, which she knew weren't proper flowers
for a garden, and she resolved to weed for half an
hour, cut grass for half an hour, and in the remaining
time do odd jobs.

10. Weeds....He knew plenty about them by now. There
was one called purslane, with a lot of fat, pink
tentacles, that grew up overnight in countless
numbers. There was quack grass, coarse and hardy, its
roots stretching under the earth in endless nets.
There were yellow dock, and lamb's quarters, and
velvetleaf...such stubborn boring little enemies.

11. C. kept giving clear and earnest instructions
about digging deep and turning the weeds in 'like me';
that was all right for C. who loved gardening and
really seemed to enjoy making hard work for himself,
but D. decided her style was more to remove the
weeds and smooth the top nicely--like a bed when you
hadn't turned the mattress.

12. "Now take those weeds down to the rubbish heap,
Geordie, and tip them right on. You made a very
pretty little mess on the path there yesterday, and I
can't have Sandy compalining to me every day, you
know."

13. "Why from five o'clock all these boys was doin' a
bit o' weedin in my patch...."

14. She searched about until she found a rather sharp
piece of wood and knelt down and dug and weeded out
the weeds and grass until she made nice little clear
places around them.
"Now they look as if they could breathe," she said...

15. "I couldn't tell the difference between a pea
vine and a weed at the end of a hoe..."

16. "What are these with the thick roots?" she
inquired innocently. "There are lots of them, and they
look so like radishes."

17. ...their legs had already been bound tightly in
long creepers without their noticing.

Cassie Was Here

I was thrilled a little while ago to be the winner of my own signed copy of Cassie Was Here, by Caroline Hickey (2007, 182pp). Thanks Mother Reader, and thanks Ms. Hickey! I read it with great enjoyment, and now, having seen that Kelly over at Big A little a has reviewed it, here are my own thoughts.

Bree is eleven, has just moved to a new neighborhood, is being blamed by her brother for his broken arm, and her mother has (literally) closed herself away (so as to get work done). Sure, she still has her imaginary friend Joey, but still she feels pretty gloomy. Then she meets Cassie--older, tougher, full of zing. Is Cassie a true friend?

The dynamics of friendship are played out, painfully and hopefully, as in real life. But although "friendship" is the main theme of this book, what stuck in my mind was the "when do you have to grow up" theme that's also being explored.

When I was Bree's age, like her, I wanted to play the games of childhood--dollhouses and imaginary friends and such. The summer I was Bree's age, I was happily sewing clothes for my dolls. Then we moved back to the United States, and I started 7th grade. Ack. Almost all the girls were desperate to grow up, and I personally was repulsed by the hairiness of the Bee Gees.

I loved Caroline Hickey's detailed and loving descriptions of the games that Bree and Joey play, but most of all, I was very happy that in the end, she has a real friend, Anna, with whom she can still be a child (thanks to Cassie, who although she has put aside childish things herself, does not despise them).

Little Rabbit Goes to School

We've gotten the second grade class list and the new pencil cases, tomorrow little one eats lunch at pre k for the first time, and bigger one is practicing saying "hello" to his new teacher (Make Eye Contact!). So here's my favorite back to school book, a picture book that we read year round in our house: Little Rabbit Goes to School, by Harry Horse (American edition 2004).

It is Little Rabbit's first day at school! And Charlie Horse, his beloved wooden toy, is going too. Mama does her best, but "No, Mama," says Little Rabbit (I hear that a lot too...). Off go Little Rabbit (very cute in his blue jumpsuit) and Charlie Horse. School is fun, but Charlie Horse keeps getting into trouble. He wants to gallop, he wants to dance, and he jumps in the class cake batter! The worst comes on the nature walk, when Charlie Horse leads Little Rabbit away from the group, and they are lost. They are soon found again, but that night, Little Rabbit tells Mama that the next day Charlie Horse can stay home-- "He's too naughty for school."

It is a clever, sweet and funny book, perfect for any Mother or Father who's a bit worried about the First Day. And the children will like it too, and perhaps decide not to take their own Charlie Horse equivalent to school. Even though my little one's dragon, Red Fire Flyer, still goes, he's learned he has to sleep in the cubbie during the day.

There are three other Little Rabbit books--Little Rabbit Lost, Little Rabbit Runaway, and Little Rabbit's New Baby. They are all lovely.

For Poetry Friday --a poetry full speach by Ursula Le Guin

"The bringing of light
is no simple matter.
The offering of flowers
is a work of generations."

Ursula Le Guin, from The Vigil for Ben Linder, here on her website.

At the end of my sophomore year in college, I missed the commencement address--I had put off packing too long. So from my tower room, I heard vague noises from the gathered crowds, but not a word spoken by Ursula Le Guin. They were good words, too, as I discovered recently via Google, and full of poetry (and poems, mostly by other people). The words were about words, and talking, and creating relationships and being in the world, all things that Le Guin excels at.

I have two boys. I read to them and talk to them; I want them to talk to me. So I found this bit of Le Guin's speech rather thought provoking:

"People crave objectivity because to be subjective is to be embodied, to be a body, vulnerable, violable. Men especially aren't used to that; they're trained not to offer but to attack. It's often easier for women to trust one another, to try to speak our experience in our own language, the language we talk to each other in, the mother tongue; so we empower each other.

But you and I have learned to use the mother tongue only at home or safe among friends, and many men learn not to speak it at all. They're taught that there's no safe place for them. From adolescence on, they talk a kind of degraded version of the father tongue with each other - sports scores, job technicalities, sex technicalities, and TV politics. At home, to women and children talking the mother tongue, they respond with a grunt and turn on the ball game. They have let themselves be silenced and dimly they know it, and so resent speakers of the mother tongue; women babble, gabble all the time.... Can't listen to that stuff.

NB: The men that I know well enough to talk to are not like the stereotypes here, so I take this with a grain of salt.

But still, reading out loud to my sons, I wonder what they are hearing. So many books about people busily doing things...you can't really ask, after reading "Go, Dog, Go," a question like "how did that make you feel?" (I generally ask, once we get the party scene, "Which dog would you like to be?" And anyway, "how did that make you feel" is such a forced question that the whole communication experience becomes moot).

Reading poetry is a much more relaxing way to offer children a nice subjective experience. I have been amazed at the pure emotional, subjective reactions poems elicit from my kids (although thinking about it, their response is often couched in un-woman-tongue: "Read it Again" they say. Or "I don't like it." Or still more disturbingly, "I don't get it," as if meaning was a possession. But their little faces are just full of flickering expressions, and they aren't running away or hitting each other). Words whose meanings must surely be unclear to them still have meanings when taken together.

In a book where all is clear, it is the words that have power--the dogs are going, and no subjecive feelings can stop them. But in the poems that I think of as "really good", the reader or listener has a voice too. So I try to read them poetry, although it is hard, especially these days while we are painting the living room and the house falls into disaster around it ("how does this mess make you feel, children?").

Here is part of another of the poems Le Guin quotes:

The Blanket Around Her

maybe it is her birth
which she holds close to herself
or her death
which is just as inseparable
and the white wind
that encircles her is a part
just as
the blue sky
hanging in turquoise from her neck

It was written by Joy Harjo of the Creek people, and was published in: That's What She Said: Contemporary Poetry and Fiction by Native American Women, ed. Rayna Green (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984), p. 127.

The Poetry Friday roundup is hosted today by Kelly Fineman, here today!

Hill's End -- My favorite Australian Book

Colleen Mondor, at Chasing Ray, initiated a group blog trip to Australia. In honor of this, here is one of my Australian favorites.

Hill's End, by Ivan Southall (1962)

One of the best books in the "children surviving great personal hardship in the face of catastrophe with no grownup to help" genre is Hill's End, by Ivan Southall. In a small and incredibly isolated Australian logging town, a group of children and their school teacher set off into the hills to look for rock paintings. All the town's other residents, except for the logging foreman, leave town for the annual regional picnic, miles away. A storm like no other they have seen strikes, the teacher is badly injured, and the children come down from the hills to find their town is ruined--almost all the houses destroyed, the water polluted, beloved pets dead, and an enraged and injured bull loose in the streets. They cannot count on their parents coming back anytime soon--they know the road is almost certainly impassible, and the bridges down. When they find the body of the mill foreman, they know that there is no one to count on but themselves.

The story of their survival is not just the details of what they ate and drank (although I found this part very interesting); it is an extraordinarily thoughtful portrait of each child's reactions and realizations about themselves and each other. There are both girls and boys, and both genders are given chances to be smart and brave, as well as chances to fail.

Even though it was written a while ago, it doesn't seem dated. This is also a useful book geography-wise, in as much as some of us have trouble remember that Australia has forests as well as the Outback. Another favorite Australian author of mine who demonstrates this even more vividly is Nan Chauncy, who set many of her books (Tiger in the Bush, World's End Was Home) in deep forests of Tasmania, shown below, being logged.

Sadly, Hill's End is out of print right now. It was widely distributed in the US, however, and might still be in libraries.

Southall has won the Children's Book Council of Australia Book of the Year in 1966, 1968, 1971 and 1976, Picture book of the Year in 1969, the Carnegie Medal (UK) in 1972 and the Australian National Book Award for The Long Night Watch in 1983.

If anyone likes this genre, here's a list of other titles I just found, many of which I know and love (The Silver Sword, anyone?).

Mythopoeic Awards

The winners of the Mythopoeic Awards have been announced, and I was pleased Patricia McKillip's most recent novel, Solstice Wood, won the award for adult literature. This is not because I think S.W. is so stunningly great, although I liked it just fine, but because I have been vaguely worrying that maybe her fantasy books aren't selling all that well and the chances for getting a new book in her Cygnet series are getting slimmer. Not that I have any clue how her books are selling, but I do so want a new Cygnet book.

This is Mckillip's third win - the others were Something Rich and Strange and Ombria in Shadow . She has made the final list for Best Novel a staggering eleven times.

I have never heard of the winner of the award for children's literature -- Catherine Fisher's Corbenic (Greenwillow), because I wasn't reading blogs when it was published. Here's one of the blog reactions from back then: Gail Gauthier's, at Original Content. It looks most excellent.



__._,_.___

Deputy Dorkface -- How Stinkville Got Cleaned Up

Deputy Dorkface -- How Stinkville Got Cleaned Up. Kevin D. Janison (Author), Eldon Doty (Illustrator) (32 pages, August 2007). Taylor and Colin, out for a ride one day in the Mojave Desert, come upon a strange sight -- the sinkometer of the small town of Stinkville. Undeterred by the day's stink reading (off the charts), the kids ride into town, a town where no one has bathed for weeks and weeks (possibly longer). The reader learns the awful story behind the stink of the townsfolk in a flashback; Taylor and Colin simply see the present situation--that Deputy Dorkface, about to throw them in jail for trespassing, needs a bath. Through brute force, they force him into the water, the other townsfolk jump in too, and Stinkville is clean again.

It's supposedly for ages 9-12, but I think it works better as a read aloud for the 5-7/8 crowd, or as a step up from an Early Reader. The illustrations are cartoonish, the humor is basically the one stinky situation (plus the name "Deputy Dorkface," which seems to amuse the young) and the plot has to be taken with a few grains of salt. It's not to my taste, but I've read it three times this week to my 7 year old.

Being part of a family seems to entail reading books that don't personally appeal. At my husband's enthusiastic urging (before he became my husband), I read The Ragged Trousered Phillanthropists (painfully), only to find out he'd never read it himself. And yesterday I was returning books to the library, including two Captain Underpants books. "Oh," said our children's librarian, "You're letting your son read those?" "Reading them to him." I said ruefully. "Good for you," she said, being a strong suscriber to the let them read anything as long as they are reading school of thought. For me,Deputy Dorkface falls into this catagory.

I got my copy from the publisher (Stephens Press); I'll be passing it on to the library, so that it can be enjoyed by other children...

Wild About Books

Wild About Books (by Judy Sierra, illustrated by Marc Brown) came out in 2004 to rave reviews. I read it for the first time last week, and was very taken by it myself. A book mobile arrives at the zoo, and next thing the reader knows, "In a flash, every beast in the zoo was stampeding To learn all about this new something called reading." It was a pleasure to read out loud--as the example shows, Judy Sierra knows how to write lines that scan, in a Seuss-ian way. Not only do the animals learn to read, they learn to write their own books. I especially enjoyed the bug written haiku, accompanied by scathing scorpion reviews--

"Roll a ball of dung--
Any kind of poo will do--
Baby beetle bed."

"Stinks."

My husband was inspired to write his own contribution to this review:

"Anapestic tetrameter's surely not easy
the first line is simple, the second a queasy
grasping at any syllable in sight
and jamming it in but not getting it right"

Judy Sierra gets it right, so you hardly notice it's there."

He did have two quibbles:

"I do think she risks leaving other hippo would-be authors in tears by raising unrealistic expectations about first-time publishing." (The hippo wins the Zoolitzer Prize).

And in reference to the clever and amusing insertion of actual books and authors into the rhymes, he writes:

"There should be some marine mammals, then she could rhyme "fin" with "LeGuin" and point the kids in the right direction." (Hear,hear, I say. Anyone else looking forward with great happiness to Powers, coming this September?)

Wild About Books is brightly illustrated by Marc Brown. He's not my personal favorite (I like my animals a tad more realistic than his colorful caricatures), but his creatures rollick along nicely with the text. According to the Random House teachers catalogue, his illustrations "reflect the naïve spirit of folk art at its best." Hmph. Sounds, perhaps, a tad patronizing...And what the heck does it mean anyway.

Poetry Friday: A Kick In The Head

It's so great to enthuse about a book, with absolutely no reservations at all. A Kick in the Head (2005), a volume of poems selected by Paul Janeczko and illustrated by Chris Raschka, is such a book. But this is not just a collection of charming and diverting poems by various skilled authors, charmingly and divertingly illustrated (although it is that). This book is "An Everyday Guide to Poetic Forms." Examples of 29 different forms of verse are presented, with the poems in largish type and the explanation of the form in very small parent-reading-size type.

For example, here's a Riddle Poem:

The beginning of eternity
The end of time and space,
The beginning of every end,
The end of every place. (annon.)

And Janeczko notes: "A riddle poem indirectly describes a person, place, thing, or idea. The reader must try to figure out the subject of the riddle. A riddle poem can be any length and usually has a rhyme scheme of abcb or aabb" (page 33)

In the introduction, Janeczko says that "knowing the rules makes poetry - like sports - more fun." It's his hope that knowing the rules will make the "game" of poetry more fun.

I'm not the first to fall for this book. It's won awards, gotten glowing awards, etc. etc. Deservedly so. This book is certainly educational--it's the best guide to poetic forms I've ever read (I can't actually remember reading any others, but there you go). I had never, for instance, heard of a senryu before (a haiku about human nature). But it is also simply a fun book to read to your kids, hoping, perhaps, that they will want to play too.

A Kick in the Head is recommended for children 9-12, but heck. Everyone likes to read fun poetry, and figuring out (and bending) the Rules makes poetry even more engaging.

The poetry friday roundup is at The Miss Rumpheus Effect today!

Book Lovers -- Unite To Bring Back Surface Mail!

As you may or may not know, the US Postal Service no longer offers international surface mail. This means that it is no longer practical to send anything heavy (like books) overseas-- no sending books (or other humanitarian items like blankets and clothes) to developing countries, no international students being able to send their books home, no books as presents for friends and family overseas, and a hardship to folks selling books.

Please sign this petition, and pass it on!

thanks.