Book Review: Ophelia by Ingrid & Dieter Schubert

You know those weird picture books?  You know the ones I mean- bizarre storyline, esoteric illustrations, unrelatable characters, not kid-friendly at all?  Usually it only takes a few pages in to discover a dud.  Sometimes, however, a weird picture book can mask itself as a benign, whimsical tale- perfect, you might think, for storytime.  In the case of Ophelia, it took me to nearly the last page to go, “Huh…..Wait, WHAT?”

Ophelia is a hippo who is woken up from her slumber in the jungle waters by the voice of her friend, Kevin.  Kevin complains of having butterflies in his stomach.  Alarmed, Ophelia sets off to bring help.  She meets Meerkat, who advises that she bring Kevin a hot-water bottle.  When Meerkat runs into Frog, the circumstances of Kevin’s illness change to “a terrible cramp” and a sore throat.  Frog suggests some herbal tea.  As the animals rush off to find the required remedies, they run into other friends.  With each successive encounter, Kevin’s illness grows exponentially in severity in a wacky jungle-version game of Telephone.

The Schuberts’ illustrations are truly captivating.  The soft watercolors, combined with the vibrant greens of the foliage and the shifting oranges, blues, and pinks of the jungle-sky throughout the day are magnificent.  The animal’s body language and facial expressions capture, in turns, their alarm, urgency, and ultimately, confusion.  They are funny to follow- and the dialogue reads well.

Unfortunately, this cute and silly romp through the jungle suddenly takes a dark turn into Strangeville towards the end.  One of the animals suggests that Kevin is dead.  “‘Dead?’ yelled Meerkat, Frog, Porcupine, and Rhino.”  As the SLJ reviewer observed, “the discussion of death in an otherwise lighthearted tale is a bit disconcerting for the intended audience.”  Indeed.  But that’s not even the most bizarre.  As Kevin emerges from the forest in good heath and certainly alive, it comes to light that he was never sick.  He was, as Ophelia explains, “just a little nervous about being in love.”  Okay, weird, right?  But hang on to your hat.  (SPOILER ALERT)  Here’s the last bit of dialogue:  “‘Does being in love kill you?’ asked Frog.   ‘No,’ Toucan said.  ‘But it sure is contagious.”  Depicted on this last spread is each animal pairing up with a friend for a smooch on the lips (well, everyone except Frog who looks totally freaked out.  And really, who could blame him?)

Previous to this final interaction, there was no indication of love, lovesickness, or any interactions (either via the illustrations or the story) that would allow the reader to predict such a conclusion.  As the Kirkus reviewer noted, the ending “will likely leave readers feeling cheated.”

I’d love to know if anyone else has encountered this book and if they were as disappointed by the ending as I was.

Cover Art Double-Take

Combing through some of our new arrivals today I was extra excited; did I somehow miss that a new Enola Holmes mystery came out?  The cover art for The Case of the Cryptic Crinoline and Secrets of Greymoor is almost identical.  Granted, they are both done by Peter Ferguson, one of my favorite illustrators (he’s done the Sister Grimm books, Gary Paulsen’s newest, Mudshark, The Anybodies, among others.)  Ferguson does have a distinctive style and in most cases that might explain a striking similarity, but let’s look at these babies side-by-side:

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Color palette, lighting, tone, typeface, home decor choices such as wall-paper and carpet, wary expression of the heroine, and even the hairstyles are too much alike to attribute to mere aesthetic choice.

What’s the deal?

Book Review: In Our Mothers’ House by Patricia Polacco

As the child of a gay parent, I am always excited to discover new children’s books about same-sex families.  Growing up, there was very, very little in the way of literature that reflected my own experiences.  I do remember my mom giving me a collection of short stories written by kids whose parents had “come out” later in life, which is what had happened in my family.  I found these stories incredibly helpful- they made me feel that there were other kids just like me- with families as diverse and different as my own.  But fiction in which positive and authentic gay characters appeared were (and still are) sorely lacking.

While looking through the new arrivals cart this week I was surprised to discover that Patricia Polacco’s latest book is about a lesbian couple raising three children.  I’m usually on the lookout for children’s books about gay issues, so I was happy to see such a well-known author tackle a subject that is so rarely depicted in children’s literature.

An African-American girl, adopted by the couple as an infant, narrates the tale that spans from the adoption of her two younger siblings (an Asian boy named Will and a Caucasian girl named Millie), through the loud and loving holiday gatherings with her moms (whom she calls Marmee and Meema), through dealing with a homophobic neighbor, and finally to the relationship her own children had with their two grandmas.

The message in the book is clear: a family with two moms can be just as wonderful as a family with a mom and a dad.  On the plus side, Polacco’s characters are cheerful, smiling, silly, and joyful.  The illustrations have a kinetic quality that reminds me of my own large (and loud) Italian family.  Each two-page spread depicts a treasured memory from the narrator’s past: dancing to bebop music with Meema, discovering (and encouraging) little Millie drawing with charcoal on the wall, trick-or-treating in handmade costumes, getting new puppies, building a treehouse.

The downside of all this cheerfulness is that the overall impression is that the author wants desperately to impress upon the reader that this family is terrific and look at all the great stuff they do rather than simply tell a story about people- people who happen to be lesbians (and moms, and nurses, and artists, and neighbors, etc.)  Families are not perfect- whether the grownups raising the children consist of one mom, a mom and a dad, grandparents or two moms.  The reason I still cringe at the theme song to Full House is that the show was so syrupy sweet; the family so impossibly perfect.  It was a fake family- with fake problems and too-easy solutions.  And I just couldn’t relate.  Stick two moms in the mix instead of a widowed dad and his friends, and it would not have made a difference.  I’m not saying that Marmee and Meema are as saccharine as Danny Tanner, but their seeming total lack of any emotions other than absolute joy and benevolent forgiveness leaves them rather two-dimensional.

The Kirkus review pointed to another problematic issue in the book: the single homophobic neighbor that the family encounters.  Mrs.Lockner, a neighborhood mom who favors pink hair bows and polka-dotted peterpan collars, is twice shown scowling at the moms, arms crossed or hiding behind a doorway.  Kirkus hit the nail on the head with their observation that, “The distillation of hate into a single character undermines the reality of systematic oppression faced by same-sex couples.”  While there certainly do exist Mrs. Lockners in the world, there are also people whose predjudices are not so readily and conveniently apparent.  The character of Mrs.Lockner embodies a rote stereotype of the “the homophobe.”  She is easy to dismiss because she is so obviously mean, ignorant, and blatant in her prejudices.  But reallife encounters with homophobia can be more subtle, and more harmful, especially to children.  Many parents may be “out” in their families and local communities, but cannot come out at their jobs for fear of persecution, harassment, or just out of fear of being treated differently.  Children of same-sex parents often not only have to face the in-your-face bigot, but whispers, sidelong glances, rumors, and other kids’ sometimes cruel comments. 

That said, I do not want to suggest that every picture book about gay families must encapsulate ALL these tough issues.  No single book, and no single author for that matter, should feel that the responsibility of representing an entire community and history of oppression is on their shoulders.  Despite its problems, In Our Mothers’ House is a welcome addition to the canon of books about same-sex families.  That very fact that Patricia Polacco, such a well-respected and lauded author/illustrator, produced a book about a lesbian couple and their kids is pretty awesome.  Plus, it’s a vast improvement over the well-known but unfortunately dull and didactic Heather Has Two Mommies. 

I think what is needed is many more books about gay moms, dads, friends, aunties, etc.  The books children read should serve as both a mirror of their own experiences and a window into new and unfamiliar ones.  We need more representations of same-sex families.  The more children- whether their parents are gay or not- are exposed the the diverse array of people and lifestyles, the more these types of books stop being “gay” books and simply become great stories.

Check out Laura’s thoughts over at Pinot and Prose.

Sign Language Videos for Librarians!

There are few things that get me super excited enough to “Woo Hoo!” out loud.  (Well, okay, that’s not entirely true.  Puppies, cute kids, ice cream trucks, stylish but comfy shoes, Sour Patch Kids, the My Little Ponies theme song, cool new books, cool old books, getting asked a really interesting reference question or reader’s advisory challenge, the latest evolution of the Swiffer, and vegetarian duck all make me “Woo Hoo.”)  But I also squeal in delight when I have the opportunity to do, share, or learn more American Sign Language.

Via the goodnightmoon listserv, I discovered that the Collaborative Summer Library Program contains a handful of sign language videos.  The instructor, an ASL teacher in Wisconsin, demonstrates classic baby and toddler rhymes such as Tommy Thumbs and If You’e Happy and You Know It. What’s especially nice is that she models the signing in a way that would encourage parents and caregivers in a storytime to follow along.

photo courtesy of Flickr user regeniabrabham

Book Review: The Maze Runner by James Dashner

Due out October 13, 2009 (Delacorte Press)

While attending the Random House Children’s Books Fall Preview a couple weeks ago, I heard this book described as “Lord of the Flies meets The Hunger Games.”  Sweet Jimminy! That pretty much bumped the ARC right on up to the top of my to-be-read pile.  After plowing through the 374 page sci-fi/adventure/thriller in less than two days, I was not disappointed.

It begins with a boy waking up in the darkness.  He is in some sort of metal lift, ascending slowly towards- well, he has no idea.  In fact, he knows almost nothing about himself; where he comes from, how he got into the lift, where it is taking him.  The only thing he knows for sure is his name, Thomas.

After what seems like a half-hour or so, the lift shudders to a stop and opens to bright sunlight.  Thomas is pulled up out of the metal box into what he learns is the Glade; a large square courtyard surrounded on all sides by impossibly high rock walls.  Gawking at him are about fifty boys, between the ages of 11 and 19.  They each came to the Glade in the same manner as Thomas.  And they have been waiting for him.

The boys of the Glade, like Thomas, have no memory of their former lives.  What they do know is that the walls surrounding the Glade move every night at sunset to seal up the giant openings on every side.  And every morning, at first light, the walls move again, opening onto pathways to what exists beyond:  the Maze.  Thomas quickly learns that the Maze is a dangerous place, harboring terrifying creatures called the Grievers.  In the hierarchy of the Glade, specially chosen boys, the Maze Runners,  risk the dangers outside the Glade by exploring the Maze each day and running back before the walls close for the night.

By the time Thomas arrives on the scene, the boys have been living this life for about two years.  They believe that some one, or some group of people (”the Creators”) have sent them here and that their only hope of escape is to solve the Maze.  The boys have since setup a crude but orderly government whereby the major tasks (cooking, farming, cleaning, building, etc.) have been divvied up.  An elder boy serves as an overseer for each group and sits on a governing council.  Supplies and food are mysteriously delivered via the metal lift in the center of the Glade every two weeks and every thirty days a new boy, or Greenie, is sent up to join them.

While the boys of the Glade had expected Thomas’ arrival, what happens the very next day is unprecendented.  The lift brings up another newbie.  Not only is the timing off, but this newbie is girl.  The message she delivers before collaspsing disturbs all the Gladers and casts a suspicious light on Thomas.  From this point on, The Maze Runner is off and running- almost impossible to put down-  as we follow Thomas on his journey to figure out who he is, why the boys are in this place, and where the horrifying creatures that dwell in the Maze originate.

Although primarily plot-driven, the characters are well-drawn and their makeshift society carefully wrought.  From Newt, the tough second-in-command with a soft-heart, to the sweet, childlike Chuck who befriends Thomas almost immediately, you come to care about these boys and their complex relationships with eachother.  The tender moments between the boys are so real- with manly punches and sarcasm used to mask an errant tear or puffed up bravado laid thin over fear of spending a night locked outside the safety of the Glade walls.  The action moves quickly, and like The Hunger Games, you get absorbed into this rollercoaster of a story, on the edge of your seat (or armchair, as it was in my case), rooting for Thomas and his friends, holding your breath as they delve deeper into the dark corners of the Maze.

I would venture to guess that this may be the first book in a series.  I was left breathless by the last page and look forward to more.

A note on the audience:  Even though there is some faux-swearing (a la Battlestar Gallactica’s “Frac,” the boys in The Maze Runner use made up swears like “shank”), I think Dashner’s book would be appropriate for middleschoolers (grades 6, 7, 8 ) as well as highschoolers.  A nice crossover novel that I’d recommend to fans of Nancy Farmer’s The House of the Scorpion and fans of Pete Hautman books.

Some Superhuman Sweet Potatoes with your Dinosaur Broccoli Trees?

image courtesy of Flickr user Cyn74

Growing up with an Italian grandmother, I always thought vegetable names were kinda weird (Escarole?  Zucchini?). But had my nightly portion of veggies promised X-ray vision or other cool super powers, I dare say there may have been many more harmonious nights around our dinner table.

New research shows that calling carrots, broccoli, and other lame-named veggies intriguing aliases encourages kids to eat them more by 50 percent!

I don’t know.  Although this did just give me a great (messy) idea for a program:  food art!  The challenge:  create a Dino Village out of mashed potatoes, carrots, and string beans.  Mmmmm.  Delicious and educational……………….

Disabled Children’s TV Host at the BBC Causing a Stir (really?)

Cerrie Burnell, the one-handed host of the CBeebies show on the BBC is apparently causing quite the controversy among our neighbors across the pond.

According to the CNN.com article, their chat rooms are going bonkers!

Take one dad who “lamented that Burnell being on the show forced him to have conversations with his child about disabilities.”  Sweet jumping jellybeans!  Not an honest and open conversation with your child about the diversity of people in the world around us!  How will either of you ever recover?

Is it me, or does this just make you angry?  I appaud both Ms. Burnell and the BBC for putting a strong, positive disabled role model on television for children.  Not only will disabled children watching her show be inspired and experience a part of themselves mirrored in the larger world, but non-disabled children will benefit from learning more about the disabled and having (hopefully) discussions with their parents about people with different abilities and the importance of treating everyone with love and respect.

Picture Book Review: Sneaky Weasel by Hannah Shaw

Weasel is a shifty-eyed cad who enjoys practical jokes, laughing at the expense of others, and generally causing mischief with whomever he encounters.  So, when the wealthy weasel decides to throw a party in order to boast about his “incredible castle, fast car and huge swimming pool” (with a postscript warning his guests to beware of hungry crocodiles in his moat), he can’t understand why none of his friends show up.

As Weasel accosts each of his “friends” to demand an explanation, he is reminded about all the terrible pranks and mean gags he has perpetrated on poor Rabbit, Rat, Hedgehog, and Shrew.

Using a combination of pen, ink, printmaking techniques and Photoshopping, Shaw’s illustrations grab the reader from the endpapers (featuring newspaper ads that account for Weasel’s great wealth: mail order practical jokes, self-help books, and disreputable businesses) through Weasel’s victorian-inspired home, to the more organic environments of Hedgehog and Shrew. Shaw uses several sepia-like colors and frames to indicate flashbacks alongside the present action.  This visual back-and-forth, combined with an almost fish-eye lens perspective and a busy composition give the visual narrative a sense of constant movement.  Children will want to go back to study each page after the first reading.

Without seeming didactic, Shaw brings Sneaky Weasel to a satisfying ending.  He learns a good lesson, struggles but eventually manages a heartfelt apology, and throws a better party.  In a twist that keeps the ending from being predictable, Sneaky Weasel shows that his old joke-playing ways are just too hard to give up completely.  I suspect a sequel.

Pair it with Grumpy Bird and I’m the Biggest Thing in the Ocean for a fun storytime about characters with major ‘tude.

Coraline in 3D (a very brief movie review)

This past Friday the 13th I opted not to see Friday the 13th (and I think, wisely) and instead went to see Coraline (in 3D).

Being big fans of both Neil Gaiman and Tim Burton, I was prepared to be gobsmacked.  My first surprise came when, over opening credits, I realized that Tim Burton did not, in fact, direct Coraline.  Huh.  (Check out this interview in Ain’t It Cool News with the director, Henry Selick.)

The stop-motion/digital animation is beautiful, eye-popping, and throughly engaging.  Even a foggy gray day is made eye-candy- rendered with the multiple layers and textures for which Selick and his animation team have become famous.  While departing slightly from the original text, the Alice-in-Wonderland-spirit and the darkness of Gaiman’s characters and settings remain.

What I didn’t find necessary were the 3D-effects.  There is one scene at the very beginning showing a needle and thread being worked through a doll.  Other than this, the remaining 3D-effects I found to be distracting to the visual narrative.

I’d say definitely see Coraline- just don’t waste your extra three bucks on the 3D version.

Check out Neil Gaiman’s response….

Insert amazed and delighted swearing here