Pocketful of Posies

Maybe the skill and artistry of Salley Mavor's hand-stitched, sewn, and collaged illustrations for Pocketful of Posies: A Treasury of Nursery Rhymes (Houghton Mifflin, 2010) are best appreciated by other needleworkers, but their appeal is so much greater than that--after all, Pocketful of Posies is a Horn Book Fanfare Best Book of 2010 and an ALA Notable for Younger Readers.  I hope it received serious consideration for the Caldecott, too.  At our house, every page has been pored over and marveled at multiple times, and it's inspired lots of reading and singing, collecting and making.

My favorite are the double-page spreads, which often illustrate several nursery rhymes in a single scene.  The one below includes Humpty Dumpty (an actual egg!), Peter Piper, and Two Little Blackbirds.  It's dfficult to appreciate the richness of the color, the depth and detail of the original in this image; nothing I've found on the internet comes close to the photographic quality of the printed book.

Or, of course, the real thing: the original illustrations from Pocketful of Posies, with new embroidered felt borders and shadowbox frames made by Salley's husband, are being exhibited in a traveling show.  At this point, most of the locations are in New England.  [Charlotte, please go on my behalf.]

Fortunately, there is plenty of information about Mavor's process available online: this interview with Salley at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast is a good place to start.  And if you'd like to make little dolls like these, Mavor's Felt Wee Folk: Enchanting Projects (C&T, 2003) is a great resource.  There's even a section of Projects for Children to Make.  Also for those of us who still struggle with the French knot.

Library party at our house next month--save the date!

The March issue of Family Fun hasn't been in our house for 24 hours and we've already picked a date and time (a Wednesday afternoon in March) for our library-themed party, complete with book-pocket invitations and in-house library cards for all the guests.  The party was designed to celebrate Read Across America Day on March 2, but I hope to be celebrating the Arlington Public Library's brand-new catalog and account system myself.  The library is transitioning to the new system this week, which means the catalog is offline and my holds (all those shiny new books waiting to be reviewed!) are temporarily...on hold.  While the staff is working hard, I need a suitably old-school distraction.  Ssh, it's party time!

Thank you, Greenwillow!

I was the lucky winner of this big box of Greenwillow books last December.  Can you see what's in there?  Everything from Kitten's First Full Moon by Kevin Henkes, winner of the 2005 Caldecott Medal, to The Thief by Meghan Whalen Turner, which won a Newbery Honor in 1997.  I read Turner's Attolia books, of which The Thief is the first, for the first time last year (no, I have no idea why I waited so long), and it was definitely a Peak Reading Experience--sort of a combination of Dorothy Dunnett's House of Niccolo books and C.S. Lewis's Til We Have Faces.  The latest, A Conspiracy of Kings (2010), is my favorite in the series.

But my very favorite Greenwillow book is this one: The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley. It was the first book I bought in hardcover, probably before it won the Newbery in 1985 (my copy, a first edition, doesn't have the gold sticker); and it still sets the standard against which I judge high fantasy for young readers. By now I've read it so many times that I can remember certain passages and fragments of dialogue almost word-for-word: Aerin's centuries-long climb up the spiral staircase to Agsded's chamber; Aerin and Luthe (their final scene together is Martha Mihalick's favorite, too); the lovely last lines. Thank you, Greenwillow!

Black Radishes and Pink Rabbits

There is a moment early in Black Radishes by Susan Lynn Meyer (Delacorte, 2010) when 11-year-old Gustave Becker has to pack his things prior to leaving Paris for the small town of Saint-Georges in advance of the Nazi occupation.  Aside from his clothes, he is allowed to bring only a few books and toys.  He chooses the books easily--his Boy Scout Manual and two favorites, The Three Musketeers and Around the World in Eighty Days--but the toys prove more difficult:

[H]ow could he choose only one?  Gustave picked up his new sailboat and ran a finger over its shiny blue and white paint.  Uncle David had given him and Jean-Paul each a sailboat last summer to sail in the fountains in the parks.  Saint-Georges was near a river, so a boat would be good to have.  But then he saw Monkey, partly hidden under his train set on the bed, and his heart tightened.  He had almost forgotten him.  Monkey's head tilted slightly to one side.  A gold post in his ear and the bright black, beady eyes looking out from his face gave him a mischievous air.

At this point I almost shouted, "Gustave, take Monkey!"  I didn't want him to make the same mistake that Anna does in Judith Kerr's When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit (1971); packing, instead of the titular rabbit who had been "her companion ever since she could remember," a newly acquired woolly dog.  Fortunately (spoiler alert), he doesn't, and Monkey goes on to play an important role in the book's climactic scene at the border between occupied and free France.

Black Radishes is a beautifully crafted, impeccably researched novel (and a 2011 Sydney Taylor Honor Award Winner for Older Readers).  Debut author Meyer, an English professor at Wellesley, was inspired by her father's experience in WWII France, although she makes clear (in an informative author's note as well as an interview at BookPage, January 2011) that she's writing historical fiction; and I think Black Radishes is all the stronger for that.  Meyer is also working on a companion novel, tentatively titled Green and Unripe Fruit, which follows Gustave after he and his family emigrate to America in 1942.

And just in case you don't know what black radishes (which also figure in that climactic scene) look like, here they are.

  

And the Cybil goes to...The Shadows!

Congratulations to the winners of the 2010 Cybils awards!  All of these books combine literary merit and kid appeal, the twin criteria of the Cybils; but I'd especially like to call your attention to the winner in the Middle Grade Science Fiction and Fantasy category: The Shadows, Volume 1 of The Books of Elsewhere, by Jacqueline West (illustrated by Poly Bernatene; Dial, 2010).  This was my second year as first-round panelist in this category, which means that I read a lot of mg sff in the fall.  The Shadows, though, I already loved: I had read and reviewed it last summer, as part of my Middle Grade Gallery series (the paintings in Olive's old house are actually portals to an alternate reality), and I recommend it often--my copy is out on loan to a fifth-grade reader right now!  I think I'm allowed to say that it made it onto my own shortlist easily (although I know the judges' panel must have had quite a time choosing a winner from among the our seven finalists).  And that I'm thrilled that it won.

In other good news, Spellbound, the second volume of The Books of Elsewhere, will be out in July.  Here's the official description:  "With no way into the house's magical paintings, and its three guardian cats reluctant to help, Olive's friend Morton is still trapped inside Elsewhere. So when Rutherford, the new oddball kid next door, mentions a grimoire--a spellbook--Olive feels a breathless tug of excitement. If she can find the McMartins' spellbook, maybe she can help Morton escape Elsewhere for good. Unless, that is, the book finds Olive first."  Grimoires are great, but I hope we haven't seen the last of the magical paintings!

Heart of a Samurai

This book was already on my to-read list when it was recognized with a Newbery Honor last month. I had picked it up from the new book display at the library (the same new book display from which I picked up and then put back the eventual Newbery winner, Moon over Manifest.  I'm still waiting for that book) on the strength of the gorgeous cover art by Jillian Tamaki; and the jacket copy, which promised "An action-packed historical novel set on the high seas!" Not to mention samurai. Which is a little misleading; the actual book is more complicated than that.

Heart of a Samurai by Margi Preus (Amulet, 2010) is a fictionalized account of the life of Nakahama (John) Manjiro, who is believed to be the first Japanese person to set foot in America.  A poor fisherman's son, Manjiro was shipwrecked off the coast of Japan in 1841 and rescued by an American whaling ship.  The captain of the ship brought Manjiro home with him to New England, where he studied for several years before making his way back to Japan.  In keeping with Japan's isolationist policies at the time, Manjiro was immediately taken into custody; but he was later released, reunited with his mother, and given the rank of samurai.  His diplomatic work eventually helped open Japan to the world.

Heart of a Samurai encompasses Manjiro's entire journey; the central section of the book is concerned with his time in America. On a farm. Manjiro himself is very likable character: thoughtful, observant, optimistic, and funny; and the book is at its best when it stays close to his thoughts and observations about the differences, practical and philosophical, between Japan and America; and to his realizations about them both.

As I was reading, some incidents and characters struck me as more "fictionalized" than "historical."  And as it turns out, these were precisely the ones that Preus, in her Historical Notes, acknowledges having invented "to provide conflict and advance the story as well as to acknowledge the prejudice and ill will that Manjiro faced."  I wish Heart of a Samurai had been either more fictionalized or less; as it is, it's an uneasy balance--probably not unlike Manjiro's own.

[See also Pam at Mother Reader's take on Heart of a Samurai during her Newbery Discussion Week.]

Middle Grade Gallery 11

The main character in this recently-released middle grade fantasy novel is obsessed with art history.  In addition to memorizing art historical facts, she likes to imitate (in the privacy of her bedroom, of course) Venus in Front of the Mirror, as seen in Peter Paul Rubens's famous painting of the Goddess of Love looking pleasingly plump (c. 1613/1614; Liechtenstein Museum, Vienna).  It helps that she's got the plump part going for her, too--even if it's not always pleasing outside of a Rubens painting anymore.

This book merits a special exhibition in the Middle Grade Gallery, there are so many references to major artists--from Watteau to Degas to Picasso, and lots more--as well as to specific works in it.  It's also absolutely delightful.  Review forthcoming, I promise.

In the meantime, there's a clue to the title of the book in this very painting: it's Cupid, otherwise known as (ahem) the small person with wings holding the mirror.  For the reverse angle, compare Titian's Venus with a Mirror (c. 1555; NGA).  Which do you prefer?

April and Esme, Tooth Fairies

My kids had already lost a lot of teeth (Leo, almost all of them) before April and Esme, Tooth Fairies by Bob Graham (Candlewick, 2010) came out last fall, but til then I hadn't found a tooth fairy book I really liked.  The search is over. This one arrived just in time for Milly, thankfully, and we both love it.  Graham's fairies (you might remember them from Jethro Byrd, Fairy Child; Candlewick, 2002) aren't the sparkly sort; more like ordinary kids with wings, they live with their fairy parents in a little house by a tree stump, just off of the M42.  This is the story of their first "tooth visit," and I especially like the way it connects, for readers, the experience of losing a tooth with other childhood rites of passage; the sense of accomplishment that kids feel, as well as their parents' mixture of pride and concern for them.

You can see more of Bob Graham's ink and watercolor illustrations, full page and panels, for April and Esme in "Two Unforgettable Picture Book Heroines from 2010" at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast (I like it when they follow the trail of toys up to the little boy's bedroom).  Unfortunately, there aren't any of the interior of the fairies' house, the bathroom of which features a tub made out of a creamer.  Graham's work is whimsical but not overly sweet; look closely at the cover image here and you'll see that the fairies are wearing mismatched clothes, the wildflowers are common weeds, and the grass is littered with popsicle sticks and pull tabs.  Yet there's even a little sparkle, too.

[And now for something completely different!  Well, there's a Tooth Fairy in it.  Silverlicious (HarperCollins, 2010) is the latest in Victoria Kann's popular picture book series.  Pinkalicious is increasingly sour about the loss of her sweet tooth until Toothetina delivers an Important Message along with three silver coins.  Could they be sweet silverlicious chocolate?  Digital collage illustrations.  Compare and contrast!]

I, Juan de Pareja and Grandma's Gift

The portrait of Juan de Pareja in last week's Middle Grade Gallery was painted by Diego Vezquez in Rome, 1650.  Congratulations to Jennifer of Jean Little Library for correctly identifying the source of the descriptions, Elizabeth Borton de Trevino's 1966 Newbery Award-winning novel, I, Juan de Pareja (this gorgeous edition is from Square Fish, 2008; the tagline on the cover reads "The story of a great painter and the slave he helped become an artist").  Apparently, the portrait was such a startling likeness of Pareja that when he himself unveiled it to prospective patrons of Velazquez (in a nice bit of theater which also appears in the book, as quoted below), they didn't know whether to speak to him or the portrait:

Then I said, "I understand that you are interested in portraiture, and I thought you might like to look at this one, your honor."

I flung back the cover and set up the portrait by my side. I had taken care to dress in the same clothes and also to wear the white collar, and I could hear the Duke gasp.

"By Bacchus!" he shouted.  "That is a portrait!"

I think the tagline gets it backward, but the story is indeed as much about Velazquez, who is portrayed as thoughtful and reserved, a true friend to slave and king alike; as it is about Juan.  There are cameo appearances by other artists of the day as well, including Rubens and Murillo (and a visit to the workshop of a sculptor of religious images, Gil Medina); as a historical novel it gives a good sense of seventeenth-century Spain.  One of my favorite Newbery books.

The portrait of Juan de Pareja also plays an important part in this year's Pura Belpre Illustrator Award-winning book, Grandma's Gift by Eric Velasquez (presumably no relation; Walker, 2010), in which a boy and his grandmother visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see it.  I haven't read this book yet, but it's on the hold list.

Finally, it's proven difficult to pin down Pareja's expression in just one word!  It looks like I'm going to have to settle for complicated.

Rubia and the Three Osos

Goldilocks and the Three Bears is a family favorite; I think I own more retellings of it than any other story (with the possible exception of Little Red Riding Hood).  This one, Rubia and the Three Osos by Susan Middleton Elya; illustrated by Melissa Sweet (Hyperion, 2010), is a lot of fun, as you can tell by the cover image of the bears and Rubia (Spanish for blonde, or in this case, Goldilocks) having a singalong.  They've even hung some papel picado!

Susan Middleton Elya's rhyming text is sprinkled with Spanish words for the essential elements of the story--bears, bowls, chairs, beds and their identifying adjectives.  No one does this better than Elya; previous favorites of hers include Oh No, Gotta Go! illustrated by G. Brian Karas (Putnam, 2003) and Bebe Goes Shopping illustrated by Stephen Salerno (Harcourt, 2006).  I'm not sure how effective this approach is at actually teaching Spanish--I generally prefer bilingual editions that tell the story in English and Spanish separately rather than mixing them up--but it's undeniably fun to read aloud.  Here's a sample:

[The bears] headed away, but the door wasn't locked.
Then who should come over, so daintily frocked?

Little Miss Rubia, curls made of oro.
"¿A tiny casita, for me? ¡La adoro!"

She opened la puerta and saw the fine food.
"¡Sopa!" she said. "I am so in the mood!"

Fans of Melissa Sweet will want Rubia and the Three Osos, too.  The colors and landscapes in her playful watercolor and mixed-media illustrations for this book were inspired by a trip she took to the American Southwest (from the flap copy); the details, too, are distinctly southwestern--from the cactus to the cowboy boots.  The bears themselves could be the Hispanic cousins of the ones in her illustrations for Jane Yolen's Baby Bear books.  That Papi Bear has a temper, though!

Aside: I remember reading Sweet's short essay in the Horn Book about her palette, which she said is "basically the same as Winslow Homer's, with the exception of one [color] called Opera" (January/February 2010).  Mama Bear's coat?  Opera.

[Check out Abuelo y los Tres Osos by Jerry Tello; illustrated by Ana Lopez Escriva (Scholastic, 1997) for a bilingual retelling of the Goldilocks story with a similar southwestern flavor.  In this one, the bears are having frijoles.]

notable Notables

Thanks goodness for the ALA Notables list--it's a great consolation when favorite titles find a home there.  I do wish the Notables didn't have to include all of the other ALA award winners and honor books; it seems redundant.  Fortunately, they also include books by international authors and illustrators (which are not eligible for the Newbery or Caldecott), so April and Esme, Tooth Fairies by Bob Graham (Candlewick) is on the list, as well as The Quiet Book by Deborah Underwood (illustrated by Renata Liwska; Houghton Mifflin), and, in the Older Readers category, Fever Crumb by Philip Reeve (Scholastic).

Other notable Notables I haven't mentioned elsewhere (there were lots in my Caldecott Hopefuls post!): Rubia and the Three Osos by Susan Middleton Elya, illustrated by Melissa Sweet (Hyperion); and Mirror, Mirror: A Book of Reversible Verse by Marilyn Singer, illustrated by Josee Masse (Dutton).

Which of these should I review first?  (Yes, I'm still reviewing 2010 titles.  It's a copyright date, not an expiration date!)

End of the World Club meeting at Politics and Prose

I wanted to share the press release for J&P Voelkel's official launch of The Jaguar Stones, Book Two: The End of the World Club (Egmont, 2010) at Washington, DC bookstore Politics and Prose, because it sounds like so much fun.  I haven't read The End of the World Club yet (the title refers to the Mayan prophecy about the year 2012), but I did enjoy the first book in the series, Middleworld (a Cybils nominee in MG SFF last year).  I especially appreciated the Mayan theme; while The Jaguar Stones books are fantasy, they are rooted in Mayan beliefs and traditions (the authors include a glossary and information about the Mayan cosmos and calendar in the back matter.  Also a recipe for chicken tamales!).  I think I'll like the second book even better, given that it's set in Spain and involves lots of poking around castles and monasteries.  Check out Charlotte's review of The End of the World Club at Charlotte's Library.  And the press release:

Read more

Rococo Rapunzel

Does this scene look familiar?  It might, if you've recently seen a certain computer-animated adaptation of one of my favorite fairy tales.  The good news is I liked it a lot more than I thought I would based on the trailer (which was not at all).

The bad news is it doesn't really resemble Fragonard's The Swing (which, coincidentally enough, I also saw recently, at the Wallace Collection), although the animators referenced the painting for inspiration (Bill Desowitz, "Chicken Little and Beyond," Animation World Network, 11/4/2005).  The more I look at it, though, the more I notice elements of The Swing--the palette, the frothiness of the flowers and leaves--that did make it into the movie.  Oh, and this iconic image:

Have you seen Tangled?  What did you think?

Interrupting Chicken with happy surprises

There were some favorite books and happy surprises for me among the ALA Award winners on Monday.  The best was David Ezra Stein's Caldecott Honor for Interrupting Chicken (Candlewick).  It was on my list!  It was my six-year-old daughter Milly's most favorite book last year, too.  According to the copyright page, the illustrations were done in a unique combination of watercolor, water-soluble crayon, china marker, pen, opaque white ink, and tea.  They results are gorgeous--the glowing colors and painterly technique used for the little red chicken and her Papa in the main story contrast beautifully with the more old-fashioned looking pen drawings used for the stories-within-the-story (Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, and Chicken Little).  And then there's Bedtime for Papa, illustrated by the little red chicken herself (she seems to use only crayon).  A classic.

I was also happy to see Margarita Engle recognized with a Pura Belpre Author Honor for The Firefly Letters: A Suffragette's Journey to Cuba.  This is my favorite of Engle's verse novels (so far); I wrote about it here, quoting a passage about the Santa Lucia celebration in Sweden and its connection to the fireflies in the title (and on the cover).  Engle's Hurricane Dancers: The First Caribbean Pirate Shipwreck (Henry Holt) will be out in March.

And finally, Tomie dePaola won the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award for his "substantial and lasting contribution to children's literature."  I love Tomie de Paola, especially at Christmastime (it's his favorite holiday, too!), and was already happy that last year's Joy to the World: Tomie's Christmas Stories (Putnam Juvenile) includes The Story of the Three Wise Kings, which has long been out of print.  Now if only Pages of Music (written by Tony Johnston, illustrated by Tomie) and An Early American Christmas were in there, it would be perfect.

What were your happy surprises on the ALA Awards list?  Or (unhappily)...off of it?  I have some of those, too.

Middle Grade Gallery 10

The Middle Grade Gallery is back with a three-part question about this compelling portrait, now owned by the Metropolitan Museum of Art:

Here is a written description of the portrait sitting, from a Newbery Medal-winning middle grade novel:

Master said I was to wear my everday clothes, only he gave me a large white collar with deep points, lace-edged (one of his own), to set off the somber darkness of my dress and my dusky complexion.

He placed me before him, told me to look directly at him, and to clasp my cloak so that it should fall over at my left shoulder.

And of the finished portrait, from the same source:

There I stood, looking at myself, as if in a mirror.  All apart from the likeness, which was startling (Master had no peer at that), the composition was harmonious and impressive in typical Spanish fashion, and yet there was an unusual glow of golden light around my head and on my skin, and an inner content which I can scarcely describe,  It was as if Master had painted what you see on the outside, and also, just as clearly, what was there in the inside...the thoughts inside my head.

This portrait also plays an important role in a 2011 ALA Award-winning picture book (I'm not saying which award, or which book, obviously!).  Can you name

  • the artist and subject of this portrait,
  • the title and author of the Newbery Medal winner quoted, and
  • the title and author of this year's relevant ALA Award winner?

Bonus points for the adjective that best describes the expression on his face.  You don't even have to answer the other questions!

Turtle in Paradise

We read, or rather listened to, Jennifer L. Holm's Turtle in Paradise (Random House, 2010) under the best possible circumstances--while driving to the Keys (that would be Paradise) during last year's summer vacation--so I have fond memories of it and was very happy (if also a little surprised) to see it get a Newbery Honor.  Turtle in Paradise is in some ways a typical Newbery pick, at least this year: it's historical fiction; it's about a girl (that would be Turtle); she's sent away to live with relatives in a new and unfamiliar place.  That describes three of the five Newbery books this year (including the winner).  Narrow the historical part down to the Great Depression and you still have two (including this one and the winner).

Which is not to say that Turtle isn't a worthy pick: I happen to know a carful of people who liked it lots!  I checked it out of the library and reread it as soon as we got home even, and my only complaint was that the ending felt a little rushed (I was afraid I might have drifted off and missed something, actually).  But it was always funny, sour and sweet like a Key West cut-up, a great summer read or read-aloud.

Like Penny from Heaven and Our Only May Amelia, Holm's other Newbery Honor books, Turtle in Paradise was inspired by family history; and the Author's Note includes family photographs (I love these) as well as a testimonial to the effectiveness of a certain diaper-rash formula--Holm uses it on her own babies' bungies.

[In other news for fans of Jennifer Holm, a sequel to Our Only May Amelia at last!  The Trouble with May Amelia (Atheneum) will be out in April.]

My ALA Awards reaction post

Surprise! I didn't watch the webcast (being somewhere over the North Atlantic at the time), so I can't confirm whether or not someone actually jumped out from behind a couch to announce the winner of this year's Newbery Medal, debut author Clare Vanderpool for Moon over Manifest (Delacorte), but he or she may as well have. I haven't even read it yet!  The Caldecott Medal likewise went to debut illustrator Erin Stead for A Sick Day for Amos McGee (written by her husband, Philip Christian Stead; Roaring Brook). I haven't read that one either! They're both on my hold list now, though.  Congratulations all around!

 
More reactions and reviews to come!  It's good to be home.

2011 Newbery Hopefuls

My Newbery Hopefuls tend to have more hope than my Caldecotts, but this year, who knows?  I'm very deliberately leaving off a few books which may be strong contenders but were most definitely Not For Me.  These, I loved.

  • A Conspiracy of Kings by Megan Whalen Turner (I might love this one best).
  • Alchemy and Meggy Swann (Ye toads and vipers! I'm still in London, after all).
  • The Dreamer by Pam Munoz  Ryan (Maybe it will win the Belpre, too).
  • One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia (See my story here).
  • Only One Year by Andrea Cheng (For younger readers).
  • Ninth Ward by Jewell Parker Rhodes (Reviewed here).
  • The Shadows (Probably not a Newbery, but it's my list! Reviewed here).
  • Something I'm forgetting, I'm sure (See: London).

I'm wishing everyone involved, from authors to committee members to readers (and bloggers!) a good night's sleep and a happy ALA awards day.  See you on the other side--of the ocean and the announcements!

Maybe a Newbery story

Here's my story: I met Rita Williams-Garcia at ALA last summer.  She was signing One Crazy Summer (Amistad).  I hadn't come prepared to buy any books (I know; silly me!) and was counting out my loose change in hopes of having enough for one copy when someone at the booth took pity on me and let me have it for the cash I had on hand.  I was debating whether to ask Ms. Williams-Garcia to sign it to Leo or Milly and decided to ask her to sign it to both, remarking that they could fight over who got to keep it after it won the Newbery.  At that point,  the same someone (thank you!) handed over another copy and Rita came out from behind the signing table, gave me a hug and whispered, "From your lips to God's ear."  I hope so!

2011 Caldecott Hopefuls

I'm posting my list of Caldecott Hopefuls (I don't even try to pick the winners; these are just some of last year's personal favorites) from a borrowed computer on our last night in London.  Sadly, I scheduled our plane trip home such that we will be IN THE AIR when the ALA awards are announced tomorrow morning.  It's going to be a long flight!

Nonfiction edition (links are to my reviews of these titles):

International edition (I know, not eligible, but these are MY Caldecott Hopefuls after all):

  • The Quiet Book by Deborah Underwood and Renata Liwska (Houghton Mifflin).

And that's it, except for the ones on my desk at home that I'm forgetting.  Maybe the Caldecott Committee will remind me, or maybe they'll choose Art and Max by David Weisner (Clarion):  a worthy choice!  What are your personal favorites and/or Caldecott picks?  Remind me.