As an Upper West Sider in Manhattan, I live among Orthodox Jewish families. Parents drop off their children at the school on my block. I see the men in hats and women with their heads covered and wearing long skirts as they walk to services on Friday nights and stroll along the Hudson River with their children during the High Holy Days. Hush, by Eishes Chayil, took me inside this insular world and offered me a deeper understanding of its culture and customs. The novel’s narrator, Gittel Klein, lives just two blocks outside of the heart of the Orthodox Jewish community in Brooklyn’s Borough Park, but that’s enough to give her a rare arm’s-length perspective of her community.
The goyishe (non-Jewish) family that rents an apartment from Gittel’s father may be off-limits, but Gittel and her best friend, Devory, form a friendship with Kathy, Gittel’s upstairs neighbor, and realize that she is not the devil she’s painted to be. This raises other questions for Gittel. That exposure to outside values factors into her contemplation of whether or not to confide what she comes to realize about Devory’s suicide at age 10. While Gittel spends the night at Devory’s house, she witnesses something she doesn’t quite understand but that fills Gittel with fear. Devory’s 15-year-old brother, who is home from yeshiva, comes to Devory’s room in the dark and goes under his sister’s blanket: “I saw the blanket, how it moved back and forth and back and forth so fast I thought they were playing tug-of-war.” Those are the only details the author gives, but they are the only details she needs to give. Gittel never discusses this with Devory, but she knows something is terribly wrong. Only as she prepares for her marriage does Gittel realize what happened to Devory, and she must either betray her community by telling the truth, or betray herself.
There has been some debate about whether Hush would have been better served if it had been published as an adult book rather than as a book for teens. But I believe it is solidly young adult. The author clearly traces Gittel’s coming of age, and the way that the gradual realization of what happened to Devory shapes the person Gittel becomes. The chapters in which the 12-year-old Gittel narrates perfectly capture that young, trusting mind attempting to make sense of her world and testing her theories. It’s a book filled with warmth, humor and respect for family and tradition. So when Gittel begins to question the dark side of tradition and absolute loyalty, we feel the devastating consequences as acutely as Gittel does.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
A Rendezvous with History
Rita Williams-Garcia has many gifts. One of them, which may be hardest to achieve for any writer, is her ability to fill in only the details the narrator (and thus, the reader) needs in order to make sense of her experience. That’s what the author accomplishes through Delphine's narrative in One Crazy Summer.
Big Ma, Delphine’s paternal grandmother, does not embrace change. The Brooklyn household she runs with her son, Delphine’s father, is a traditional home, and those are the values she instills in Delphine and her sisters. So when Delphine and her sisters arrive in Oakland, Calif., and they find themselves immersed in the Black Panthers Summer Camp, they must sift through Big Ma’s beliefs and the values that their mother, Cecile, lives by to figure out what makes sense to them—as readers, we get to go on that journey with them.
The girls’ mother puts on a lot of armor. To survive as an African-American woman on her own, she has to. But Delphine doesn’t understand why that armor shields Cecile from her daughters, too. That’s another journey to understanding that we take with Delphine. There are no easy fixes for Delphine. There were no easy fixes in 1968. What the author does is create an opening to understanding. Cecile gives Delphine as much knowledge and exposure as she can handle and leaves a door open for future revelations. And Rita Williams-Garcia does the same for young readers. Brava!
Big Ma, Delphine’s paternal grandmother, does not embrace change. The Brooklyn household she runs with her son, Delphine’s father, is a traditional home, and those are the values she instills in Delphine and her sisters. So when Delphine and her sisters arrive in Oakland, Calif., and they find themselves immersed in the Black Panthers Summer Camp, they must sift through Big Ma’s beliefs and the values that their mother, Cecile, lives by to figure out what makes sense to them—as readers, we get to go on that journey with them.
The girls’ mother puts on a lot of armor. To survive as an African-American woman on her own, she has to. But Delphine doesn’t understand why that armor shields Cecile from her daughters, too. That’s another journey to understanding that we take with Delphine. There are no easy fixes for Delphine. There were no easy fixes in 1968. What the author does is create an opening to understanding. Cecile gives Delphine as much knowledge and exposure as she can handle and leaves a door open for future revelations. And Rita Williams-Garcia does the same for young readers. Brava!
Friday, January 14, 2011
Gone Reading
On Monday, January 10, Bink and Gollie by Kate DiCamillo and Alison McGhee, illustrated by Tony Fucile, won the 2011 Theodor Seuss Geisel Award for beginning readers. This was the sixth Geisel Medal awarded.
We’ve reflected on the Newbery and Caldecott criteria in the past, now let’s look at beginning readers and the goals of the Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss) Award: “The Theodor Seuss Geisel Award recognizes the author(s) and illustrator(s) of a book for beginning readers who, through their literary and artistic achievements, demonstrate creativity and imagination to engage children in reading.”
In the case of Bink and Gollie, the heroines themselves demonstrate creativity and imagination to engage children in reading. Gollie hikes “high in the pure air of the Andes Mountains” without ever leaving her house in the treetops. Bink in some ways plays the role of the beginning reader, as when Gollie leaves a note on her door while on her adventure that states: “To whom it may concern: I am on a journey….” And Bink says, “I’m baffled. Am I ‘whom’?” When Bink goes away and comes back, she finds another note: “Bink, I implore you, do not knock.” Bink wonders, “What does implore mean?” as she knock knock knocks at Gollie’s door. Young readers can figure out the general meaning from the context, but the words may well prompt children to pause and puzzle out their meaning, and then adopt the words for themselves.
The three brief stories, told mostly through dialogue, keep readers captivated. Fucile’s illustrations (which garnered a New York Times Best Illustrated Book citation) ramp up the humor. Take Gollie’s trip to the Andes, for instance. Inside, Gollie’s house is transformed into snow-capped mountains, while outside, Bink stands on the same familiar landing and knocks at the door where she always comes to call. In another episode, Bink buys a goldfish, and Fucile depicts Bink holding up Fred’s fish bowl in the movie theater so he can see, too. In my other favorite moments: when Bink goes to buy her “outrageous” socks, only her eyes and spiky hair clear the store’s counter; Bink and Gollie “compromise” by meeting on the stairway halfway between their two homes for pancakes (the striped sock that Bink forfeits in the deal serves as Gollie's wind sock--a fun pun--and later winds up on the summit of Gollie’s Andes Mountains).
Bink and Gollie stretch the vocabulary beyond the limits of your usual beginning reader (think Cat in the Hat, Frog and Toad, George and Martha). But the challenging words, couched in humor, are ones children will want to collect and try on for size in similar contexts. We may raise a generation of readers who say, “With whom am I speaking?” or “Don’t take my bike, I implore you.” Just when you thought text messages were butchering the language, here come Bink and Gollie to make the case for eloquence and cleverness!
We’ve reflected on the Newbery and Caldecott criteria in the past, now let’s look at beginning readers and the goals of the Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss) Award: “The Theodor Seuss Geisel Award recognizes the author(s) and illustrator(s) of a book for beginning readers who, through their literary and artistic achievements, demonstrate creativity and imagination to engage children in reading.”
In the case of Bink and Gollie, the heroines themselves demonstrate creativity and imagination to engage children in reading. Gollie hikes “high in the pure air of the Andes Mountains” without ever leaving her house in the treetops. Bink in some ways plays the role of the beginning reader, as when Gollie leaves a note on her door while on her adventure that states: “To whom it may concern: I am on a journey….” And Bink says, “I’m baffled. Am I ‘whom’?” When Bink goes away and comes back, she finds another note: “Bink, I implore you, do not knock.” Bink wonders, “What does implore mean?” as she knock knock knocks at Gollie’s door. Young readers can figure out the general meaning from the context, but the words may well prompt children to pause and puzzle out their meaning, and then adopt the words for themselves.
The three brief stories, told mostly through dialogue, keep readers captivated. Fucile’s illustrations (which garnered a New York Times Best Illustrated Book citation) ramp up the humor. Take Gollie’s trip to the Andes, for instance. Inside, Gollie’s house is transformed into snow-capped mountains, while outside, Bink stands on the same familiar landing and knocks at the door where she always comes to call. In another episode, Bink buys a goldfish, and Fucile depicts Bink holding up Fred’s fish bowl in the movie theater so he can see, too. In my other favorite moments: when Bink goes to buy her “outrageous” socks, only her eyes and spiky hair clear the store’s counter; Bink and Gollie “compromise” by meeting on the stairway halfway between their two homes for pancakes (the striped sock that Bink forfeits in the deal serves as Gollie's wind sock--a fun pun--and later winds up on the summit of Gollie’s Andes Mountains).
Bink and Gollie stretch the vocabulary beyond the limits of your usual beginning reader (think Cat in the Hat, Frog and Toad, George and Martha). But the challenging words, couched in humor, are ones children will want to collect and try on for size in similar contexts. We may raise a generation of readers who say, “With whom am I speaking?” or “Don’t take my bike, I implore you.” Just when you thought text messages were butchering the language, here come Bink and Gollie to make the case for eloquence and cleverness!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Books to Chew On
Board books are the ideal format for toddlers, and certainly they are safe for newborns, too. But even better for babies are cloth books. Their soft pages can be balled up in tiny fists, and drooled over, then thrown in the washing machine. Add to that some sound effects, like the crackling sound of the pages in Crinkle Animals: Farm, and nearly all of your baby’s senses will be engaged.
Studies have shown that with newborns, one of the key elements to capture babies’ attention is contrasting images such as black and white. All of the animals in Farm feature black-and-white elements, with the bold black outline and white feathers or fur—except for the pig finale, in a blush of pink (and a kiss mark on its cheek). There are no words in the book, allowing you to improvise with your baby to see what he or she responds to—animal sounds, animal names, perhaps a game of hide-and-seek with the page turn (Where did the cow go? There it is!). It’s soft enough to go in the crib or stroller, and the crunchy sound will help baby find it if it winds up beneath a leg or belly.
Studies have shown that with newborns, one of the key elements to capture babies’ attention is contrasting images such as black and white. All of the animals in Farm feature black-and-white elements, with the bold black outline and white feathers or fur—except for the pig finale, in a blush of pink (and a kiss mark on its cheek). There are no words in the book, allowing you to improvise with your baby to see what he or she responds to—animal sounds, animal names, perhaps a game of hide-and-seek with the page turn (Where did the cow go? There it is!). It’s soft enough to go in the crib or stroller, and the crunchy sound will help baby find it if it winds up beneath a leg or belly.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Doubt and Faith
There are so few Christmas-themed books aimed at teens, and I’m hard pressed to think of any with the staying power of Katherine Paterson’s Angels & Other Strangers. The nine short stories here focus on young people and adults experiencing the kinds of crises of faith that often creep up during adolescence—and a single event that brings about a change in perspective.
Over the years, many of the teens and adults I’ve spoken with have described going through their catechism, confirmation, bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah—a rite of passage at the center of their communities of faith designed to welcome them in—and finding themselves questioning that very community. It’s such a common experience of adolescence, yet we rarely talk about it amongst ourselves or with teens. We become complicit in a silent agreement that in “polite society” we don’t discuss religion or politics. But books like Katherine Paterson’s can help young people feel less isolated if they’re experiencing a sense of alienation from their religion, and to know that doubt is part of developing a lasting faith.
Many of our country’s citizens came to our shores to escape religious persecution. Not just the Puritan pilgrims, but throughout history—Jewish families seeking refuge during World War II, Muslim refugees from Kosovo, the subject of Paterson’s The Day of the Pelican. Growing up in a family that practices religion is not always easy. Communities are made up of individuals, and a teenager who questions his or her religion does not always feel there are places to go to talk about those questions. And the wide range of religions and cultures in America also make us feel that we’re in a largely secular society, making teens feel they must be believers in secret.
Books like Katherine Paterson’s let teens know they’re not alone, that there are many stages within a religious practice, and that it’s also normal to doubt. Some of the characters in these nine stories are in a crisis of faith, like Carol, the mother in “Tidings of Joy.” Others are in a period of doubt, like Carl, the father in “Star of Night.” Or they have only ever known doubt and fear, like Genevieve, the foster child in “Maggie’s Gift.” But in each story, one honest act of compassion or generosity—often from a child—leads the questioning adult or child to a place of hope, and perhaps on the road to a more lasting feeling of faith. For those times when we feel alone and faithless, these characters make good companions.
Over the years, many of the teens and adults I’ve spoken with have described going through their catechism, confirmation, bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah—a rite of passage at the center of their communities of faith designed to welcome them in—and finding themselves questioning that very community. It’s such a common experience of adolescence, yet we rarely talk about it amongst ourselves or with teens. We become complicit in a silent agreement that in “polite society” we don’t discuss religion or politics. But books like Katherine Paterson’s can help young people feel less isolated if they’re experiencing a sense of alienation from their religion, and to know that doubt is part of developing a lasting faith.
Many of our country’s citizens came to our shores to escape religious persecution. Not just the Puritan pilgrims, but throughout history—Jewish families seeking refuge during World War II, Muslim refugees from Kosovo, the subject of Paterson’s The Day of the Pelican. Growing up in a family that practices religion is not always easy. Communities are made up of individuals, and a teenager who questions his or her religion does not always feel there are places to go to talk about those questions. And the wide range of religions and cultures in America also make us feel that we’re in a largely secular society, making teens feel they must be believers in secret.
Books like Katherine Paterson’s let teens know they’re not alone, that there are many stages within a religious practice, and that it’s also normal to doubt. Some of the characters in these nine stories are in a crisis of faith, like Carol, the mother in “Tidings of Joy.” Others are in a period of doubt, like Carl, the father in “Star of Night.” Or they have only ever known doubt and fear, like Genevieve, the foster child in “Maggie’s Gift.” But in each story, one honest act of compassion or generosity—often from a child—leads the questioning adult or child to a place of hope, and perhaps on the road to a more lasting feeling of faith. For those times when we feel alone and faithless, these characters make good companions.
Friday, December 10, 2010
A Trusty Companion
Despite all evidence to the contrary, Eva Nine in The Search for WondLa, written and illustrated by Tony DiTerlizzi, feels certain that there are other human beings like her. She is forced outside of the Sanctuary she shares with her robot guardian Muthr, and finds other creatures, but they too look nothing like her. The elegant two-tone double-page illustrations that open each chapter pull you into this futuristic world where things are out of balance, and Eva is trying to find out why.
It’s a quest story with a girl at the center, surrounded by her trusted creatures, most notably Rovender Kitt (the blue-hued rabbit-like Caerulean) but also Otto (the armored water bear). These creatures, both male, and the fast-paced adventure and advanced weapons will keep boys, too, glued to the pages. (Plus there’s an augmented reality feature: if you have a Web cam and go to Wondla.com to download the software, you can experience WondLa-Vision—by holding up several spreads from the book, you can see a 3-D map of Orbona. But that’s an added bonus to a completely satisfying straight reading experience.)
The Search for WondLa is an example of beautiful bookmaking—a thick volume with creamy pages into which you and your youngsters can happily escape over the winter break when the days are short and a great story makes the best companion through the long winter nights.
It’s a quest story with a girl at the center, surrounded by her trusted creatures, most notably Rovender Kitt (the blue-hued rabbit-like Caerulean) but also Otto (the armored water bear). These creatures, both male, and the fast-paced adventure and advanced weapons will keep boys, too, glued to the pages. (Plus there’s an augmented reality feature: if you have a Web cam and go to Wondla.com to download the software, you can experience WondLa-Vision—by holding up several spreads from the book, you can see a 3-D map of Orbona. But that’s an added bonus to a completely satisfying straight reading experience.)
The Search for WondLa is an example of beautiful bookmaking—a thick volume with creamy pages into which you and your youngsters can happily escape over the winter break when the days are short and a great story makes the best companion through the long winter nights.
Friday, December 3, 2010
A Birthday Party for Jesus
Who knew that the story of the birth of Jesus could be told so simply yet so completely? In The Child in the Manger, Liesbet Slegers distills the events related in the Gospel of Luke to their barest elements. Mary and Joseph are on a journey: “They knocked on many doors. But nobody would take them in.” They are grateful to find a stable “because Mary wanted to lie down. She felt that her child would be born soon.” Slegers’s version is an example of superb storytelling because she never loses sight of her audience.
In a recent interview, Liesbet Slegers talked about her approach to The Child in the Manger, and she said that she took her story into the schools as she was w
orking on it (from the link to the interview, you may also read the book throughout the month of December online free). She said she read it over and over again to “test my ‘book to be,’ ” to make sure it was connecting with her audience. Margaret Wise Brown, author of Goodnight Moon, did the same thing. She went into New York City classrooms and tried out her stories with the students.
Slegers captures the sense of wonder at the birth of Jesus, with the angel, the shepherds, and the three kings all playing their parts in the story. And then she brings that sense of wonder into a context that’s familiar to children. The idea of Christmas as a birthday party for Jesus, at which we all get presents, is one that nearly every child can comprehend—and celebrate!
In a recent interview, Liesbet Slegers talked about her approach to The Child in the Manger, and she said that she took her story into the schools as she was w
orking on it (from the link to the interview, you may also read the book throughout the month of December online free). She said she read it over and over again to “test my ‘book to be,’ ” to make sure it was connecting with her audience. Margaret Wise Brown, author of Goodnight Moon, did the same thing. She went into New York City classrooms and tried out her stories with the students.Slegers captures the sense of wonder at the birth of Jesus, with the angel, the shepherds, and the three kings all playing their parts in the story. And then she brings that sense of wonder into a context that’s familiar to children. The idea of Christmas as a birthday party for Jesus, at which we all get presents, is one that nearly every child can comprehend—and celebrate!
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