To read (or not): The Brothers Lionheart

I came across a reference to The Brothers Lionheart by Astrid Lindgren (1973, but OOP in the US) in Lucy Knisely's An Age of License: A Travelogue (Fantagraphics Books, 2014) and like Lucy, I'm a bit skeptical! In Knisely's book, Lucy and her Swedish sort-of boyfriend Henrik are comparing their favorite books from their youth. Lucy's is Harry Potter; Henrik's is The Brothers Lionheart. It's about (he tells her) two young boys who die tragically and then go to Nangijala, where they join a war over slaves and land. Lucy is all, "Wait, what?" Apparently, The Brothers Lionheart is beloved in Sweden, but I might have to stick to Pippi and Ronia, the Robber's Daughter, my favorite of Lindgren's characters, unless someone out there can convince me otherwise.

I can, however, recommend An Age of License, especially to young adults and recent college graduates! It's a travelogue, in comics, of Lucy Knisely's 2011 Scandinavian and European book tour (a sequel of sorts to Relish: My Life in the Kitchen, which won a 2014 Alex Award), so it touches on her career (and a creepy con experience), as well as traveling alone, with family and friends, and with the aforementioned Henrik. I like Knisely's clean, uncluttered drawing, the variety of layouts (there's lots of white space, not really any panels), and the occasional splash of watercolor. A companion book, Displacement, is forthcoming from Fantagraphics in January 2015, although that one promises to be a bit more serious and sad (it's about her relationship with her aging grandparents).

Top Ten Arts Books of 2014 from Booklist Online

The November issue of Booklist features books about the arts for children and adults. On their top ten list of arts books for youth are a handful of biographies (about the Wyeth family, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, potter George Ohr, and painter Vasily Kandinsky), three books about dance, and two YA novels (The Unfinished Life of Addison Stone and The Vigilante Poets of Selwyn Academy, both of which I promptly added to my to-read list). Also Draw! by Raúl Colón (Simon and Schuster/Paula Wiseman), a wordless book inspired by the artist's own childhood, and long hours spent drawing in his family's New York City apartment.

Now I'm wondering (in the tradition of the What makes a good...? series at Horn Book): What makes a good arts book? Is it information, inspiration, or some combination of the two? How do the novels on the list fit the criteria? What about instructional arts books, like Susie Brooks's Get Into Art series from Kingfisher? And where, oh where is Emily's Blue Period by Cathleen Daly (illustrations by Lisa Brown; Neal Porter/Roaring Brook)? Or The Iridescence of Birds: A Book about Henri Matisse by Patricia Maclachlan (pictures by Hadley Hooper; also Roaring Brook)? They would be on my list (I'm working on it), but first I need to sort out my criteria--not to mention my definitions. What is an arts book anyway? Something to think about.

More Binny, Please

I preordered the second in the Binny series by Hilary McKay--Binny in Secret, the sequel to Binny for Short (American edition Margaret K. McElderry, 2013) from bookdepository.com back when it had a publication date of September 4, 2014. Eventually (this morning) I noticed that it had not arrived and located a new release date of June 16, 2015, a blurb, and cover art by Micah Player, who did a fantastic job on the illustrations for Binny for Short (I'm also a fan of his picture book, Lately Lily: The Adventures of a Travelling Girl, published by Chronicle earlier this year). So I'm sad about the delay, but on the plus side, the blurb promises a school story (with obligatory bullying--poor Binny is called a "grockle" by her stuck-up classmates), a move to an old house in the country (always good), and some sort of connection between Binny and the three children living in the house in 1913, whose stories are interwoven with hers. Worth the wait. [Waiting on Wednesday.]

Cybils nominations closing in five...four...three...

That was fast! The Cybils nomination window closes today, so if, like me, you have been waiting to nominate for whatever reason, now is the time. Kids can nominate, too, so if you have any of those around, please help them navigate the nomination process. They are experts on at least one of our criteria: kid appeal.

For the rest of us, there are lots of nomination strategies, and good reasons to have waited. In the past I've thought about using my nominations to bring attention to diverse books (before it was a thing, even!)--multicultural, international, translated. You might choose to nominate books written by debut authors, or published by small houses . Usually I end up nominating books I'm just surprised haven't been nominated yet! There are always some great ones out there.

See this post from the Cybils organizers for more information on how to nominate, and remember that eligible books will have been published between October 16, 2013 and October 15, 2014. So if a book has a publication date of yesterday (and many do--books tend to come out on Tuesdays), this is its only chance. Likewise books that came out late last fall.

I'll be back tomorrow with my list of nominees!

The Bagthorpes: A Who's Who

Somehow Trina Schart Hyman managed to include every one of the Bagthorpes on the cover of Ordinary Jack ("Being the First Part of The Bagthorpe Saga") by Helen Cresswell. Why should you care? Because the Bagthorpes are eccentric and brilliant (well, all except Jack; he's ordinary), and the books are like manic 1970s versions of the classic British family story (as well as the inspiration for Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums, if that helps). Here's a who's who, which may or may not make sense, but should give you a feeling for what the books are like and whether you would like them:

Back row
Aunt Celia, who is not only ravishingly beautiful but can also solve The Times crossword in ten minutes flat without a dictionary and do pottery and poetry.
Uncle Parker. The way he drives his car is the talk of the neighborhood.
Tess. A Black Belt in Judo besides talking like a dictionary.
Mrs. Bagthorpe. Has an Agony Column in a monthly journal under the name of Stella Bright.
Mr. Bagthorpe, a screenwriter for the BBC. He fell over at teatime.
William. A veil of secrecy must be preserved.
Grandpa. S.D. (Selectively Deaf.)
Atlanta, the au pair. Bilingual in Danish and German.

Front row
Daisy. Four-year-old pyromaniac.
Rosie. Second string, portraits.
Grandma. Likes arguments and gets disappointed when nobody else wants them.
Mrs. Fosdyke, the Daily. Moves like a hedgehog, i.e. fast without actually doing much.

Front and center, Jack and his dog Zero (also known as Nero, or rarely Hero). The plot of Ordinary Jack has to do with Jack's search for a way to distinguish himself from among the rest of his relentlessly talented family; his Uncle Parker decides he should become a prophet. To be honest, it didn't immediately appeal. But the plot is incidental (in both senses of the word), and I quite liked the book! I only wish there had been more than three Bagthorpe books at the sale (I also picked up Bagthorpes Unlimited and Bagthorpes V. the World), but at least I get the pleasure of tracking them down. Maybe not all ten of them, though.

[For comparison, here is the poster for The Royal Tenenbaums, which may well have been inspired by the Trina Schart Hyman book covers (she illustrated the covers for the first five books in the series). I haven't seen the movie since it first came out, and now I'm curious about the Bagthorpe connection. I will say that Gene Hackman is a ringer for an older Mr. Bagthorpe. Apparently the role of Royal Tenenbaum was written just for him.]

Inside Charlie's Chocolate Factory

This book was written, says author Lucy Mangan, for all those who loved Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when they were young, and those who love it now. That would be me, and I wasn't disappointed by Inside Charlie's Chocolate Factory: The Complete Story of Willy Wonka, The Golden Ticket, and Roald Dahl's Most Famous Creation (Puffin, 2014). Dahl's granddaughter Sophie provides the forward, in which we learn how to pronounce Roald ("long stretched Roo, al like the end of mall, silent D") and that she never could: she called him Mold. The rest of Inside Charlie's Chocolate Factory is likewise full of fascinating tidbits of information, family photographs, manuscript pages (longhand and typewritten), and illustrations from the British and American editions of Charlie. There's also a whole chapter ("Television Chocolate") on the stage and screen adaptations of Dahl's book, none of which I've seen, but interesting nonetheless.

As far I'm concerned, though, the whipple-scrumptious fudgemallow delight here is the first chapter, "Sugar-Coated Pencils: Writing the Book." (The pencils were actually Dixon Ticonderogas, which Dahl started using in the US and later had sent over to England specially.) Sadly, tragedy struck the Dahl family twice during the writing of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; but Mangan doesn't dwell on it, moving on to an analysis of the manuscripts (altogether there are five in existence; an earlier one was lost), and the editorial and revision process that led to the finished book, published in 1964--making this the golden anniversary of the golden tickets.

Charlie book.jpeg

Dahl's first choice of illustrator for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was none other than Maurice Sendak, who was unavailable at the time (probably working on Where the Wild Things Are). Instead, Joseph Schindelman illustrated the American edition; Dahl's other illustrators include Faith Jacques, Michael Foreman, and, famously, Quentin Blake. I grew up with Schindelman's illustrations (that's my very own battered paperback), and they're still my favorites, but it's fun to compare all four versions of everyone from Willy Wonka to the Oompa-Loompas in Mangan's chapter on illustration, "Behind the Gates of the Chocolate Factory: A Visual Tour." Not surprisingly, my kids like Quentin Blake's illustrations best, and even I have to admit that Dahl and Blake go together like chocolate and...more chocolate, which is just how Roald Dahl would have it.

[Ages 12 up. Reviewed from library copy. 100% of author royalties from the sale of this book are donated to the Roald Dahl charities. Be sure to check the jacket flap for your very own golden ticket!]

 

 

48 Hour Book Challenge: Diverse mg and ya books

Who's taking the 48 Hour Book Challenge? Now in its ninth year, this time 48HBC is dedicated to reading and reviewing diverse books (thanks, Pam! 48BHC is MotherReader's baby). I've never been up for the challenge before--we always seem to be hosting a party that weekend, or out-of-town guests; maybe it's one of us out of town, or teaching. This year we are, in fact, hosting a party--but I'm reading anyway. 12 hours at least (that's the minimum; see MotherReader for more details).

What I'm reading exactly has yet to be determined (I'm heading to the library as soon as I hit publish on this post). I haven't been saving up my diverse books, and as we all know by now, they tend to be thin on the ground. I have, however, read a number of good ones already this year. Here's the list, 5 middle grade and 5 YA books published in the first half of 2014 (links are to Goodreads. A division of Amazon. Sigh): 

 

I haven't attempted to balance my list in any way, and it's interesting to note that there are three verse novels (not usually my favorite); four historical fiction, three of them middle grade; lots of international issues; and no fantasy or science fiction at all. Now I know where to look for this weekend's reading (not to mention what I should review). I hope this list helps you find something to read, too.

[Edited to add: There is so much historical content in Secrets of the Terra-Cotta Soldier that I momentarily forgot that a lot of it comes from one of the terra-cotta soldiers itself. Fantasy. Thanks, Charlotte!]

Go: A Kidd's Guide to Graphic Design

According to Chip Kidd, the use of images such as this one--me at age 5, in my first grade school picture--is "a shameless way to gain immediate sympathy from readers. It's also very effective." And that's just the first thing I learned from Go: A Kidd's Guide to Graphic Design by Chip Kidd (Workman, 2013)--you'll have to tell me if it worked. The second is that Go is an eye-opening introduction to graphic design for anyone, not just kids. It makes you aware that (almost) everything needs to be designed. Kidd himself illustrates and designs book covers, and uses his own and others as examples of various design elements throughout this guide (you'd recognize a lot of them, or at least one--the T-rex skeleton on the cover of Michael Crichton's Jurassic Park is Kidd's handiwork, and authors such as Oliver Sacks have it in their contracts that Kidd design their book covers, too). After reading Go, I have lots (more) to say about book covers--watch this space. I might even try to redesign a cover or two myself. It's that kind of book, both informative and inspiring. Check it out:

[Informative.] Following a short introduction ("Okay, So Just What Is Graphic Design?"), Go covers the fundamentals: Form (the longest chapter, including everything from scale and symmetry to contrast and color theory), Typography, Content, and Concept. Kidd defines concept as your idea of what to do (metaphorically, it's "a bridge between content and form"). Which begs the familiar question, Where do ideas come from? (Don't worry, Kidd has answers.)

[And inspiring.] The last chapter offers 10 Design Projects such as Redesign Something That You Love and Create Your Own Visual Identity or logo (I'm still working on that one).  I had to stop myself from inviting all of my ten-year-old's friends over for Graphic Design Camp, but someone else might want to try it with their kids.

My one complaint about Go is that it doesn't focus on many children's book covers (only two, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas and Wonder). For more on those, see "What Makes a Good Book Cover?" by Thom Bartholomess in the March/April 2014 issue of the Horn Book (including one of my favorite books and covers from last year, The Golden Day), which also provides a useful framework for evaluating covers. I might try using it to talk about some of this year's middle grade and YA covers here. What are some recent covers you love--or hate?

Armchair BEA: The Seraphina prequel

I adored Seraphina by Rachel Hartman (Random House, 2012) and bought it in hardcover before I had even returned the library's copy. The sequel, Shadow Scale, doesn't come out til March 2015; that's a long time, but then Megan Whalen Turner takes a long time between books, too, and they tend to be worth the wait. Hartman has written a short prequel, "The Audition," that was first made available online and is included in later hardcover editions of Seraphina (you can read it for free on Scribd, too). I'm not sure whether I would read recommend reading it first, though, and I wonder if Hartman meant for it to be part of the finished book (which already has a prologue) or, more likely, came up with it later.

In any case, it seems to me that more and more authors, particularly of fantasy novels, are expanding on the worlds they've created by publishing short stories or novellas in e-book form--I've seen prequels, companions, alternate perspectives, folktales--many of which are free. Sequels usually have to wait for a print edition, though.

Back to the kingdom of Goredd. I love the cover of the first edition of Seraphina--it's a wood engraving by Andrew Davidson, with a narrow maroon border; the title is embossed in gold. Later editions keep Davidson's engraving but add color to it: purple, green, and gold; and there's a new, sort of serpentine font for the title, which is displayed at an angle, in white. My focus group of one (me) likes it. 

Aside: Any interest in a round-up of companion fantasy novellas?

Armchair BEA: Dear Marilyn Sachs

truth about mary rose (3).jpg

I'm writing to thank you for The Truth About Mary Rose (Doubleday, 1973). That's my childhood copy, the 1977 Dell Yearling edition, illustrated by Louis Glanzman. It was one of the few books (maybe even the only one) I read as a child that had a Hispanic or Latina main character--like me, or close enough (I'm Cuban-American). I loved that Mary Rose's dad, an artist, made her rice pudding when he was worried about her being sick, and that she was surrounded by her extended family in New York City, even if they were mostly on her American mother's side. Speaking of Mary Rose's mother (Veronica Ganz, but I hadn't read that book), I also loved that she was a dentist and kept her maiden name at work. But Mary Rose's grandmother, on the other hand, just made me mad (to be fair, she made Mary Rose's mother mad, too). How could she say such mean things about Mary Rose's dad? And why would everyone let her get away with it? Even, especially, Mary Rose herself.

Rereading The Truth About Mary Rose as an adult, which I did last night, I'm more interested in the representation of the Ramirez (Ganz) and Petronski families than I am in the mystery of the first Mary Rose--after all, I already know how it ends. And I want to congratulate Luis Ramirez on his one-man show at MoMA. Very impressive! It almost makes up for having such an awful mother-in-law.

Armchair BEA: Introductions

I'm still recovering from my last trip to BEA, so this year I decided to try something different: Armchair BEA. That sounds about right.

Please tell us a little bit about yourself: Who are you? How long have you been blogging? Why did you get into blogging? Where in the world are you blogging from? 

I have an About page which needs updating, but in the meantime, Hello! My name is Anamaria. I'm a museum educator, a researcher and writer, and, for as long as I can remember, a reader. I've been blogging at books together since 2007 (also a long time in blog years). Before that I had a blog about making things, which I still like to do. I'm married to a college professor (handsome and smart) and have two children (13 and 10). And I'm blogging from Arlington (VA), a near suburb of Washington, DC.

What genre do you read the most?

I read mostly novels of the middle grade and YA variety, and especially like fantasy and historical fiction--sometimes both at once. I also read (and review) a lot of picture books. Within those genres, I look for multicultural and international children's books. I'm interested in the whole book: writing, illustration, and design.

What was your favorite book read last year? What’s your favorite book so far this year? 

Thank goodness for Goodreads, without which I might not remember what I read last year (or even what I've read so far this year). It's not a perfect record--I don't keep track of picture books there, and often forget to add books I don't blog about--but it's a start. Narrowing the question down just a bit, my favorite middle grade or YA book published in 2013 which I also read in 2013 might have been Picture Me Gone by Meg Rosoff (Putnam Juvenile). My favorite middle grade or YA book published in 2014 which I've read in 2014 is probably the The Children of the King by Sonya Hartnett (Candlewick). Although that one was first published in 2012 in Australia, so maybe it doesn't count? Then I can say The Story of Owen: Dragon Slayer of Trondheim by E.K. Johnston (Carolrhoda).

I should also mention Marcus Sedgwick: I read Midwinterblood (Roaring Brook, 2013) in January of this year (after it won the Printz), and am reading She Is Not Invisible now, and like them both lots.

What does your favorite/ideal reading space look like?

Anywhere (outside of a moving vehicle) will do--I'm more concerned about being caught somewhere without a book than I am about having an ideal place to read one. At home I like to read curled up on the couch in the front room, or lately in the hammock. 

Spread the love by naming your favorite blogs/bloggers. 

Three favorites are Charlotte at Charlotte's Library, Karen at Ms. Yingling Reads, and Zoe at Playing by the Book.

Share your favorite book or reading related quote. 

That would have to be Cicero, from Letters to friends 9.4: If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need. Charlotte might agree, Karen could confirm that the sense of the translation is correct, and Zoe is probably already planting the garden.

Thank you for visiting!

At the same moment, around the world

My ten-year-old daughter got a watch for her birthday--go ahead, ask her what time it is! She loves her watch and says it makes her feel both more independent and, somehow, more connected to the world.

At the Same Moment, Around the World by Clotilde Perrin (Chronicle, 2014) says the same seemingly contradictory thing, that our experience of time is both shared and varied. Perrin takes readers on a journey east from the Greenwich Meridian ("It is six o'clock in the morning in Dakar, Senegal. Keita wakes up early to help his father count the fish caught during the night"), stopping at a more-or-less specific location in one of the original 24 time zones on each page. So we go from breakfast in Paris at 8am to lunch in the Himalayan Mountains at noon; sunset in Honolulu at 8pm, and midnight in Mexico City. [And meet Benedict, Lilu, Allen and Kiana, and Pablo, respectively, along the way.] Even though the text reminds us, at every new time, that it's still the same moment, it's easy to forget that the book is not structured as a 24-hour day--not exactly, anyway. The final spread, identical to the first, makes this point beautifully.

Perrin's illustrations, rendered in pencil and colorized digitally, are likewise beautifully drawn and designed to convey all sorts of information--geographic, cultural, personal, whimsical. Even when the locations sharing a double-page spread are very different, Perrin connects them visually, as in this image (one of my favorites, although it's hard to see here) of tropical New Caledonia and snowy Russia:

Perrin's illustrations also relate to each other across the page turns, although this is less obvious in the American edition. Originally published in France in 2011 as Au même instant sur la terre…, the French edition is in a leporello format, which unfolds like an accordion so readers can conceptualize the world in the round:

Chronicle went with a more traditional--although still very vertical--format, substituting a fold-out map specially created for this edition, so readers can locate where in the world each character (pictured on the map's borders) lives relative to the others. Perrin created a lovely new cover and endpapers, too.

Both book designs work wonderfully, albeit in different ways. Which do you prefer?

A Candle in Her Room

I'm so pleased to have picked up A Candle in Her Room by Ruth M. Arthur (Atheneum, 1966) at the book sale, despite (or perhaps because of) its dated cover. It's just the sort of book I would have been enraptured by as an eleven-year-old, one in which three generations of young women living in Pembrokeshire, Wales are haunted by a wooden doll. Even now I read it in a similarly rapt state on a rainy Saturday, and felt closer to my eleven-year-old self than I have in a long time!

I'm also pleased to have discovered the work of Ruth M. Arthur, who wrote a whole list of Gothic novels for girls in the 1960s and 70s, none of which I had previously read. How could that be? Anyway, A Candle in Her Room was the first of those, and introduces a lot of the conventions that Arthur seems to have returned to again and again: a female first person narrator; an evocative setting to which the narrator moves; a multi-generational (or parallel historical) plot; and an element of fantasy or magic, usually involving a talisman of some sort.

A Candle in Her Room actually has three narrators (they all sound remarkably alike). The first section is narrated by Melissa, whose family moves from London to the Old Court in Pembrokeshire sometime before WWI. Melissa has two younger sisters, Judith and Briony, and while it's Briony who finds the wooden doll, Judith--the artistic, sophisticated sister--is the one who becomes almost possessed by it. After Melissa falls off a cliff and is confined to a wheelchair, Judith runs off with Melissa's boyfriend Carew and the two of them are married in London.

Subsequent sections are narrated by Dilys, Judith and Carew's daughter; Melissa again, as she searches for Dilys's child following WWII; and Nina, who comes to live with Melissa at the Old Court. Dido, the wooden doll (her name is carved into her back) is a mysterious, malignant presence throughout: her origins are never explained, and ultimately Nina must destroy her and her hold on the family in a terrific bonfire (as seen on the cover).

While the plot of A Candle in Her Room is often melodramatic (I'm thinking of poor Dilys in particular), the narration of events is somewhat removed from the experience of them. There is a lot of matter-of-fact telling. Intentional or not, I think this tension only heightens the overall feeling of foreboding that makes this such a creepy book. 

Now I'm actively seeking out some of Arthur's other books, namely Dragon Summer (1963), Requiem for a Princess (1967), and The Saracen Lamp (1970). And if there are any Arthur fans out there, your recommendations are most welcome! In the meantime, it's nice to add an author to my most-wanted list for the next book sale.

[Margery Gill's distinctive pen-and-ink illustrations for A Candle in Her Room (she illustrated many of Arthur's other books as well) do a lot to enliven the text. This one is of Melissa examining Dido as Briony looks on.]

Book Sale Business

I've started to branch out from the biannual Friends Book Sales at Arlington Central Library--this morning I went all the way to Falls Church (a distance of two and a half miles) to check out the American Association of University Women book sale and came home with a small stack of children's books and a couple of hardcovers for my husband and son, too.

I followed my usual book sale protocol, which is to head straight for the middle grade paperbacks. In this case, there wasn't a lot of pre-sorting--all the children's books were mixed up in boxes, fiction, nonfiction, YA, picture books, everything. The pricing scheme wasn't what I was used to, either: all paperbacks (children's and adult) were $2, hardcovers $3. Fortunately, "thin paperbacks" were only a dollar, which is still twice what one pays at the Friends sales. Also fortunately, the cashier agreed with me on the thinness of my paperbacks. One of my hardcovers  (Folk Toys Around the World and How to Make Them by Joan Joseph, 1972) was thin enough to qualify for a discount, too.

One thing I noticed about my new (old) books is the presence and quality of the interior art: black and white line drawings, mostly, by Erik Blegvad (who died earlier this year), N.M. Bodecker, Alan Cober, Margery Gill. Gill's illustrations are among my favorites, and I'm particularly pleased to have picked up a copy of Dawn of Fear by Susan Cooper because of them (here Gill was informed by her own childhood memories of WWII). But I'm reading A Candle in Her Room by Ruth M. Arthur (also illustrated by Gill) first.

The Scraps Book by Lois Ehlert

Small and square, The Scraps Book: Notes from a Colorful Life (Beach Lane Books, 2014) by Lois Ehlert is actually bursting with images and inspiration drawn from the picture book maker's long career. It's unmistakably Ehlert, down to the round typeface of the main text (I think it's Century Schoolbook) and the handwritten notes (in place of the sans serif labels used in most of her books) adding another level of detail. Maybe a little messier, though, since The Scraps Book is all about process (and, Ehlert tells us, "I'm messy when I work"). In words and images, she shares where her book ideas come from, how to make a storyboard, the art technique of collage (often using recycled or natural materials), a recipe for bird treats...The Scraps Book is stuffed full of interesting things to inspire young (and not-so-young) readers, writers, and artists, right where they are. 

Instead of a bibliography, there's a double-page spread of Ehlert's book covers at the end. I was surprised at how many of them we had read and remembered: Planting a Rainbow, Eating the Alphabet (the IJKL page was our favorite, followed closely by the letter Pp, which got two pages), Waiting for Wings, and Feathers for Lunch (a good choice to read alongside The Scraps Book, which includes a series of spreads showing how Feathers for Lunch went from idea to finished book).