Eversole, Robyn. East Dragon, West Dragon. Illus. Scott Campbell. New York: Atheneum Books for Young Readers (Simon & Schuster), 2012. ISBN: 978-0-689-85828-4. $16.99.
“West Dragon thought East Dragon was a snob. East Dragon thought West Dragon was a slob... they were a little afraid of each other because they didn’t know who was bigger, who was fiercer... so they kept a world between them, just in case.”
In this classic tale of clashing cultures, East Dragon, West Dragon artfully weaves a story of two contrasting dragons -- one who lives in a land of palaces, emperors, and geishas, and one who lives in a land of caves, kings, and knights. The dragons have never met before and happily live in their own worlds, until one day when everything goes wrong and their sides of the sea meet. What will happen when these fierce forces come face-to-face? With intricate and whimsical watercolor illustrations that will enchant you, East Dragon, West Dragon is filled with action that will take you on an adventure!
Jenny Weisenborn
A service of the Center for the Study of Children’s Literature at San Diego State University
Showing posts with label Fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fantasy. Show all posts
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
A GOLD STAR FOR ZOG by Julia Donaldson
Donaldson, Julia. A Gold Star for Zog. Illus. Axel Scheffler. New York: Arthur A. Levine Books (Scholastic Inc.), 2012. ISBN: 978-0-545-41724-2. $16.99.
In Madam Dragon’s school, young dragons learn all the skills necessary to become a great dragon -- how to fly, roar, breathe fire... even how to capture a princess! “Zog, the biggest dragon, was the keenest one by far. He tried his hardest every day to win a golden star.” Klutzy and endearing, Zog tries his best to be the best and encounters many mishaps along the way. Throughout his years of school, Zog makes a special friend, a friend who may be the key to his success one day.
The text flows through fun and humorous rhymes, and the rich illustrations are bold and vibrant, filling every square inch of the page. An uplifting story that makes you want to read it again and again, A Gold Star for Zog is a whimsical tale with a twist!
Jenny Weisenborn
In Madam Dragon’s school, young dragons learn all the skills necessary to become a great dragon -- how to fly, roar, breathe fire... even how to capture a princess! “Zog, the biggest dragon, was the keenest one by far. He tried his hardest every day to win a golden star.” Klutzy and endearing, Zog tries his best to be the best and encounters many mishaps along the way. Throughout his years of school, Zog makes a special friend, a friend who may be the key to his success one day.
The text flows through fun and humorous rhymes, and the rich illustrations are bold and vibrant, filling every square inch of the page. An uplifting story that makes you want to read it again and again, A Gold Star for Zog is a whimsical tale with a twist!
Jenny Weisenborn
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
THE SCORPIONS OF ZAHIR by Christine Brodien-Jones
Brodien-Jones, Christine. The Scorpions of Zahir. New York: Delacorte Books for Young Readers, 2012. ISBN-13: 978-0385739337. $17.99.
Adventure! Archaeology! Lost civilizations and whacked out astronomy! The Scorpions of Zahir packs all of that and more into its colorfully bound exterior, promising the reader an extraordinary adventure. The tale, which follows a young girl and her family as they journey to Morocco in search of her archaeologist father's missing partner, ensnares the reader with a mythical mission to uncover, save, and revitalize the lost civilization of Zahir from being overrun by monstrous scorpions. It just so happens that a rogue planet (though why not meteor?) called Nar Azrak is on course to collide with Earth, specifically upon Morocco, at the same time. Only the restoration of Zahir and its protective qualities can reestablish the balance between planets, people, and beasts. There is a lot to take in, both mythically and astronomically, but the creativity of the storyline unfolds fairly straightforwardly, especially as a foundation for witnessing the determination and growth of the young protagonist, Zagora Pym. Her unbridled enthusiasm carries this story through the wilderness of a foreign country and a cosmic myth come to life; for me, her rambunctious behavior is the most enticing feature of the book and will appeal to middle grade readers of all kinds.
The storyline itself is outrageous and exciting, but does struggle to stay coherent near the end. It's difficult to imagine an actual planet colliding with Earth, but that lapse of scientific grounding may not matter to young readers. They most likely will enjoy the unintentional mischief young Zagora plants herself in while exploring the inner and outer workings of Morocco. Brodien-Jones' lush and aromatic descriptions of the people, markets, and streets of Morocco (Marrakesh in particular) fully demonstrate her own captivation with the city and its mysteries. In this lens, it does offer a beautiful entry into another culture, although at times veers dangerously into fully exoticizing rather than bringing a sense of familiarity and universality to her Moroccan characters. Still, the focus lies squarely on Zagora, and any faults one may find in the plot or other characters can be assuaged somewhat by the creation of a spunky and thoughtful young female protagonist. Her youthful zest and frenetic energy lead her to follow her impulses first and thoughts later, but over the course of the story she learns the value of her family members and friends as well as herself, and finally gains enough control to help solve the mystery. That this wild adventure story circles around the important features of this young girl make the story appealing on so many levels.
Though the climax gets lost in the immense imagery Brodien-Jones demands us to visualize, it does not lose its heart for a step. Astronomy, myth, and science feature prominently in the story, making this both a magical ride as well as a treat for the intellect. A worthy read for some heartfelt, spunky fun.
Reviewed by Alya Hameed
Monday, December 3, 2012
MODERN FAIRIES, DWARVES, GOBLINS, AND OTHER NASTIES by Lesley M.M. Blume
Blume, Lesley M. M. Modern Fairies, Dwarves, Goblins & Other Nasties: A Practical Guide by Miss Edythe McFate. Illus. David Foote. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010. ISBN: 978-0-373-68203-8. $16.99. Ages: 10 and up
For a trailer of the book, check out Lesley Blume's website: http://www.lesleymmblume.com/new/modern_fairies_mov/movie/
I am eternally grateful to Miss Edythe McFate for sharing her extensive knowledge about the very modern and very real world of fairies and their fantastical counterparts. I am equally indebted to Lesley M.M. Blume who interviewed Miss McFate and made the stories available. Finally, I want to thank illustrator David Foote. It is because of his marvelous illustrations in concert with Edythe McFate's extensive knowledge of "the wayward natures, properties, and habits of fairies" that I am confident in my ability to identify fairies, both friend and foe, and take proper precautions. While I won't give all the secrets away (you truly need to read them yourself), I will share the most important trick of all: How to tell a good fairy from a bad one.
Fortunately there is no absurd combination of unattainable materials—all you need is a penny. Here's what you do: The moment you realize you are in the presence of a fairy, put your penny on the floor. "If the penny glows blue, you're probably safe. If the penny glows green—or worse black—run away immediately, and don't look back for a second." This is also the point in time that you need to take additional steps to protect yourself. Don't know how to do that? Well, that's exactly why Modern Fairies, Dwarves, Goblins & Other Nasties exists.
In addition to identifying fairies and their like and how to interact with them, Miss Edythe McFate also provides until-now-unknown answers to some of life's most stubborn mysteries. What are they? Well, again, that's something you need to find out for yourself. I will tell you, though, that you will finally get the answers to why hair turns white, where those missing spoons go, and why swimming pool water sometimes becomes green. But there is so much more...
If you, like Miss Edythe McFate, are from New York City, you will be delighted to encounter many landmarks that you pass on a daily basis. Some of these landmarks are obvious: Central Park, the Lincoln Tunnel, and Carnegie Hall; but there are some you might have to look for more carefully. Don't live in New York City? That's okay— Modern Fairies will give you enough information to recognize fairies' presence anywhere.
In closing, I have a final note for parents: If you are unable to deal with your child's ability to see things that you do not or are unwilling to handle clothes and socks that may be worn inside out or are easily annoyed by creative thought, then this book might not be for your child. Then again, carefully consider those minor irritations in light of what might happen when your child encounters the unstable, but quite marvelous world of fairies. As Miss McFate always says, "forewarned is forearmed."
Though this is probably better suited to the young adult reader, Modern Fairies is so engaging that I think it will pull the advanced (or maybe not so advanced) younger reader through all 242 pages. The text is delightful and the illustrations are spellbinding; there is not a boring page in the book.
Read it.
Stephanie Ashley
For a trailer of the book, check out Lesley Blume's website: http://www.lesleymmblume.com/new/modern_fairies_mov/movie/
I am eternally grateful to Miss Edythe McFate for sharing her extensive knowledge about the very modern and very real world of fairies and their fantastical counterparts. I am equally indebted to Lesley M.M. Blume who interviewed Miss McFate and made the stories available. Finally, I want to thank illustrator David Foote. It is because of his marvelous illustrations in concert with Edythe McFate's extensive knowledge of "the wayward natures, properties, and habits of fairies" that I am confident in my ability to identify fairies, both friend and foe, and take proper precautions. While I won't give all the secrets away (you truly need to read them yourself), I will share the most important trick of all: How to tell a good fairy from a bad one.
Fortunately there is no absurd combination of unattainable materials—all you need is a penny. Here's what you do: The moment you realize you are in the presence of a fairy, put your penny on the floor. "If the penny glows blue, you're probably safe. If the penny glows green—or worse black—run away immediately, and don't look back for a second." This is also the point in time that you need to take additional steps to protect yourself. Don't know how to do that? Well, that's exactly why Modern Fairies, Dwarves, Goblins & Other Nasties exists.
In addition to identifying fairies and their like and how to interact with them, Miss Edythe McFate also provides until-now-unknown answers to some of life's most stubborn mysteries. What are they? Well, again, that's something you need to find out for yourself. I will tell you, though, that you will finally get the answers to why hair turns white, where those missing spoons go, and why swimming pool water sometimes becomes green. But there is so much more...
If you, like Miss Edythe McFate, are from New York City, you will be delighted to encounter many landmarks that you pass on a daily basis. Some of these landmarks are obvious: Central Park, the Lincoln Tunnel, and Carnegie Hall; but there are some you might have to look for more carefully. Don't live in New York City? That's okay— Modern Fairies will give you enough information to recognize fairies' presence anywhere.
In closing, I have a final note for parents: If you are unable to deal with your child's ability to see things that you do not or are unwilling to handle clothes and socks that may be worn inside out or are easily annoyed by creative thought, then this book might not be for your child. Then again, carefully consider those minor irritations in light of what might happen when your child encounters the unstable, but quite marvelous world of fairies. As Miss McFate always says, "forewarned is forearmed."
Though this is probably better suited to the young adult reader, Modern Fairies is so engaging that I think it will pull the advanced (or maybe not so advanced) younger reader through all 242 pages. The text is delightful and the illustrations are spellbinding; there is not a boring page in the book.
Read it.
Stephanie Ashley
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
ALICIA Y GRETA: UN CUENTO DE DOS BRUJAS by Steven J. Simmons
Simmons, Steven J. Alicia ya Greta: Un Cuento de dos Brujas. Illustrated by Cyd Moore. Translated by Teresa Mlawer. Waterton: Charlesbridge Publishing, 1999. ISBN 978-0881061338.
Alicia y Greta is a wonderful story. Translated into Spanish from the original in English, Alice and Greta: A Tale of Two Witches, the story follows two witches who attend the same school. They both learn magical spells, but they start using them in different ways. The witches have different perspectives on the things they learn and see, which are ostensibly the same.
It is a good story to share with students about the type of decisions they make. Everybody is given the same lesson in school and in life, but how people interpret and use their lessons can be very different. It is up to us to make decisions. The book is amazing because it specifically states what the consequence will be for making a bad decision. In the story the teacher states that whatever you decide to do with your magic will come back to you. A second lesson is to pay attention to instruction. You cannot be distracted because you may miss a very important critical instruction, which Greta did.
The language is beautiful and descriptive. The illustrations are colorful and vibrant. The story is full of verbs and adjectives which can easily be transferred to a lesson. For a lesson on introducing verbs, a read-aloud might be a good option, so that students can listen with the objective of identifying and writing down the verbs. Additionally, the spells in the book use a lot of rhymes, which can be used for a poetry lesson. At only 29 pages, the book is short and very fun to read. You can definitely keep the attention of your students.
Irina Flores Romano
This review is part of the Special Section: Books in Spanish, featuring a collaboration with Policy and Language Studies students at San Diego State University. Read more about it here.
Alicia y Greta is a wonderful story. Translated into Spanish from the original in English, Alice and Greta: A Tale of Two Witches, the story follows two witches who attend the same school. They both learn magical spells, but they start using them in different ways. The witches have different perspectives on the things they learn and see, which are ostensibly the same.
It is a good story to share with students about the type of decisions they make. Everybody is given the same lesson in school and in life, but how people interpret and use their lessons can be very different. It is up to us to make decisions. The book is amazing because it specifically states what the consequence will be for making a bad decision. In the story the teacher states that whatever you decide to do with your magic will come back to you. A second lesson is to pay attention to instruction. You cannot be distracted because you may miss a very important critical instruction, which Greta did.
The language is beautiful and descriptive. The illustrations are colorful and vibrant. The story is full of verbs and adjectives which can easily be transferred to a lesson. For a lesson on introducing verbs, a read-aloud might be a good option, so that students can listen with the objective of identifying and writing down the verbs. Additionally, the spells in the book use a lot of rhymes, which can be used for a poetry lesson. At only 29 pages, the book is short and very fun to read. You can definitely keep the attention of your students.
Irina Flores Romano
This review is part of the Special Section: Books in Spanish, featuring a collaboration with Policy and Language Studies students at San Diego State University. Read more about it here.
Friday, June 1, 2012
ABE LINCOLN AT LAST! by Mary Pope Osborne
Osborne, Mary Pope. Illus. Sal Murdoca. Abe Lincoln at Last! Random House Children’s Books, 2011. ISBN-13: 9780375868252. $12.99.
Special Feature: Review by an elementary school student.
Abe Lincoln At Last! is part of the Magic Tree House series, in which a tree house time machine takes two kids to different historical eras. I think Abe Lincoln at Last! was really fantastic because it had two stories in one, and it was really interesting! The first half of the book was really about saving Penny the penguin, who was turned into a stone statue, and the other half was about getting a feather from Abraham Lincoln. The Feather of Hope had two important purposes. The first purpose was for writing a letter of hope to Abraham Lincoln to not give up freeing the slaves. The second was for saving Penny. The Feather of Hope, along with the emerald rose and the buttercup from other books in this series, is needed to turn Penny back into a penguin.
The story was interesting because it went back in the past, and you can tell it was hard to live a long time ago. I would have a hard time doing chores like cutting the wood, getting water from a stream, and milking the cows! These were all jobs that kids had to do each day.
I really like this story, and I would like to read the next story in the series to find out about the emerald rose and the buttercup. I like the ideas that the author put in the story, and I would recommend it to my friends.
Review by Finnegan McCool, 5th grade
Special Feature: Review by an elementary school student.
Abe Lincoln At Last! is part of the Magic Tree House series, in which a tree house time machine takes two kids to different historical eras. I think Abe Lincoln at Last! was really fantastic because it had two stories in one, and it was really interesting! The first half of the book was really about saving Penny the penguin, who was turned into a stone statue, and the other half was about getting a feather from Abraham Lincoln. The Feather of Hope had two important purposes. The first purpose was for writing a letter of hope to Abraham Lincoln to not give up freeing the slaves. The second was for saving Penny. The Feather of Hope, along with the emerald rose and the buttercup from other books in this series, is needed to turn Penny back into a penguin.
The story was interesting because it went back in the past, and you can tell it was hard to live a long time ago. I would have a hard time doing chores like cutting the wood, getting water from a stream, and milking the cows! These were all jobs that kids had to do each day.
I really like this story, and I would like to read the next story in the series to find out about the emerald rose and the buttercup. I like the ideas that the author put in the story, and I would recommend it to my friends.
Review by Finnegan McCool, 5th grade
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
AMOS DARAGON, THE MASK WEARER by Bryan Perro
Perro, Bryan. Amos Daragon, The Mask Wearer. Random House Children’s Books, 2012. ISBN-13: 9780375859762. $6.99.
Special Feature: Review by an elementary school student.
Amos Daragon, The Mask Wearer is an amazing novel that promises to fascinate readers of many ages. This action-packed mystery is an adventure to read and a pleasure to share. Bryan Perro has created an epic tale that should be required reading material for grades 4 and up. Well, I guess it was required reading for me. When my teacher introduced this book to the class, I was hooked.
This novel is about an adventurous boy named Amos Daragon. Amos is sent on a quest by the “Queen of the Sea.” Along the way, Amos befriends a mysterious boy named Beorf and an elusive young girl named Medusa. Can these young figures be trusted? What will Amos discover next?
Amos’ intelligence and creativity will make you laugh out loud as you read this fantastic book, which is a perfect blend of mythology and fantasy. When you finish it, you will see the world differently.
Review by Mackie Cates, 5th grade
Special Feature: Review by an elementary school student.
Amos Daragon, The Mask Wearer is an amazing novel that promises to fascinate readers of many ages. This action-packed mystery is an adventure to read and a pleasure to share. Bryan Perro has created an epic tale that should be required reading material for grades 4 and up. Well, I guess it was required reading for me. When my teacher introduced this book to the class, I was hooked.
This novel is about an adventurous boy named Amos Daragon. Amos is sent on a quest by the “Queen of the Sea.” Along the way, Amos befriends a mysterious boy named Beorf and an elusive young girl named Medusa. Can these young figures be trusted? What will Amos discover next?
Amos’ intelligence and creativity will make you laugh out loud as you read this fantastic book, which is a perfect blend of mythology and fantasy. When you finish it, you will see the world differently.
Review by Mackie Cates, 5th grade
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Classic British Fantasy: THE ENCHANTED WOOD by Enid Blyton
Blyton, Enid. The Enchanted Wood. Illustrated by Jan McCafferty. London: EuroKids International/Egmont, 2011. ISBN 978-1-4052-2857-2. $9.14.
The first volume of Enid Blyton’s ‘Faraway Series’ tells the episodic adventures of three English children who live near a Magic Wood, which contains a Faraway Tree that provides an array of magic lands from the highest branches. The three children, Joe, Beth and Frannie, meet fantastical friends in the tree who share their sequence of exciting experiences in the ever-changing lands at the top of the tree. Silkie the fairy, Moonface, and Saucepan Man play particularly prominent roles in the children’s undertakings in such locales as the Roundabout Land, the land of the Magic Snowman, Rocking Land, the Land of Toys, and the book’s grand finale, Land of Birthdays. Along the way, the children encounter anthropomorphized toys and animals in imaginative settings and events that mix danger with wish fulfillment. While the perpetual stream of fantastic ventures may grow wearisome to older children, the book is ideal for children at the just-learned-to-read age, perhaps to be read aloud together, one sequence at a time. The two older protagonists, Joe and Beth, are about seven or eight (Beth has her 8th birthday at the end of the book), and Frannie is several years younger.
Critics have not always been kind to Blyton, but no wonder children love her! Her genius emerges in the narrator’s empathetic voice, which is unusually confidential and intimate, with frequent chatty interjections such as, when the children have returned home from an all-night adventure to be awakened for the day’s tasks almost immediately by their mother, “My goodness, they were sleepy all that day!” (85), or "'Plenty of time, plenty of time,’ said Moon-Face, pouring himself another cup of hot chocolate. But you know, there wasn’t plenty of time. For just at that moment…"(76)
Throughout the story, the narrator’s voice surrounds the reader with comfort and interest, as if the reader/hearer were curled up in a soft, loving lap, forever safe from mishap while sharing thrilling adventures. In fact, the narrator is so intimate at times that one isn’t sure if Blyton’s words are meant to be thoughts from the protagonists’ minds, comments from the narrator, or perhaps even thoughts from the reader’s mind considerately given voice in the text! At the end of chapter 26, for instance, the children run to the trap door at the base of the Faraway Tree to begin a daring rescue of their friends from the Red Army of Goblins. The last sentence is, “Ooooh! Another adventure!” (198). Again, in a singular example of metatext, when the protagonists (who are trying to find their way home from the Land of Toys) meet Santa Claus, he already knows about them because other children keep asking him for books about them, and Santa has read them all. The narrator--or the children--or the reader--share the reaction: “Well, wasn’t that a bit of luck?” (187).
The leap to magic isn’t so vast for a small child. Fantastic characters in the Faraway Tree in some ways resemble Mom and Dad, for example the workaholic Dame Washalot (the children’s mother takes in washing), or the rather grumpy Mr. Watzisname, or the ever resourceful and knowledgeable Moon-face. Silky magically produces Pop Cakes from her oven, and Mother Bear reaches into her closet for warm coats (never needed by the bears), in much the same way a grown-up retrieves, seemingly magically, whatever the small child needs at the moment. Similarly, punishment is dispensed without understandable cause by the more troublesome magical characters, and their authority is not questioned:
"'Naughty boy, to tell stories like that!' said Dame Snap, suddenly, in such a loud and frightening voice that it made him jump. 'Come with me, all of you.' There didn’t seem to be anything else they could do." (140)
Today’s scholar might trip on Blyton’s traditional gender characterization, with Joe taking the lead for adventure and Beth assuming nurturing responsibility, but such roles blend well with the period in which the text was first published, 1939. Perhaps even more startling to the contemporary reader is the children’s behavior in their ordinary home: they are cheerful, hard working, obedient, and respectful of their parents—without any sense of rebellion from the narrator or the characters themselves. Sometimes the children don’t get quite enough to eat. They count themselves lucky when, after a week or so of doing chores, their mother allows them an afternoon off to play outside by themselves with a picnic of bread and butter. They almost never complain or feel sorry for themselves.
For the adult, the text is interesting in its remarkable voice, as noted above, and in its unconscious reflection of early 20th century British culture. Perhaps most unique are some good tips should you ever find yourself in an enchanted wood: for example, if you want to understand what the trees are whispering to each other (“wisha wisha wisha”), wrap your arms around a tree and put your left ear to the trunk and you will know. My goodness, they are helpful!
Alexandra Boyer
The first volume of Enid Blyton’s ‘Faraway Series’ tells the episodic adventures of three English children who live near a Magic Wood, which contains a Faraway Tree that provides an array of magic lands from the highest branches. The three children, Joe, Beth and Frannie, meet fantastical friends in the tree who share their sequence of exciting experiences in the ever-changing lands at the top of the tree. Silkie the fairy, Moonface, and Saucepan Man play particularly prominent roles in the children’s undertakings in such locales as the Roundabout Land, the land of the Magic Snowman, Rocking Land, the Land of Toys, and the book’s grand finale, Land of Birthdays. Along the way, the children encounter anthropomorphized toys and animals in imaginative settings and events that mix danger with wish fulfillment. While the perpetual stream of fantastic ventures may grow wearisome to older children, the book is ideal for children at the just-learned-to-read age, perhaps to be read aloud together, one sequence at a time. The two older protagonists, Joe and Beth, are about seven or eight (Beth has her 8th birthday at the end of the book), and Frannie is several years younger.
Critics have not always been kind to Blyton, but no wonder children love her! Her genius emerges in the narrator’s empathetic voice, which is unusually confidential and intimate, with frequent chatty interjections such as, when the children have returned home from an all-night adventure to be awakened for the day’s tasks almost immediately by their mother, “My goodness, they were sleepy all that day!” (85), or "'Plenty of time, plenty of time,’ said Moon-Face, pouring himself another cup of hot chocolate. But you know, there wasn’t plenty of time. For just at that moment…"(76)
Throughout the story, the narrator’s voice surrounds the reader with comfort and interest, as if the reader/hearer were curled up in a soft, loving lap, forever safe from mishap while sharing thrilling adventures. In fact, the narrator is so intimate at times that one isn’t sure if Blyton’s words are meant to be thoughts from the protagonists’ minds, comments from the narrator, or perhaps even thoughts from the reader’s mind considerately given voice in the text! At the end of chapter 26, for instance, the children run to the trap door at the base of the Faraway Tree to begin a daring rescue of their friends from the Red Army of Goblins. The last sentence is, “Ooooh! Another adventure!” (198). Again, in a singular example of metatext, when the protagonists (who are trying to find their way home from the Land of Toys) meet Santa Claus, he already knows about them because other children keep asking him for books about them, and Santa has read them all. The narrator--or the children--or the reader--share the reaction: “Well, wasn’t that a bit of luck?” (187).
The leap to magic isn’t so vast for a small child. Fantastic characters in the Faraway Tree in some ways resemble Mom and Dad, for example the workaholic Dame Washalot (the children’s mother takes in washing), or the rather grumpy Mr. Watzisname, or the ever resourceful and knowledgeable Moon-face. Silky magically produces Pop Cakes from her oven, and Mother Bear reaches into her closet for warm coats (never needed by the bears), in much the same way a grown-up retrieves, seemingly magically, whatever the small child needs at the moment. Similarly, punishment is dispensed without understandable cause by the more troublesome magical characters, and their authority is not questioned:
"'Naughty boy, to tell stories like that!' said Dame Snap, suddenly, in such a loud and frightening voice that it made him jump. 'Come with me, all of you.' There didn’t seem to be anything else they could do." (140)
Today’s scholar might trip on Blyton’s traditional gender characterization, with Joe taking the lead for adventure and Beth assuming nurturing responsibility, but such roles blend well with the period in which the text was first published, 1939. Perhaps even more startling to the contemporary reader is the children’s behavior in their ordinary home: they are cheerful, hard working, obedient, and respectful of their parents—without any sense of rebellion from the narrator or the characters themselves. Sometimes the children don’t get quite enough to eat. They count themselves lucky when, after a week or so of doing chores, their mother allows them an afternoon off to play outside by themselves with a picnic of bread and butter. They almost never complain or feel sorry for themselves.
For the adult, the text is interesting in its remarkable voice, as noted above, and in its unconscious reflection of early 20th century British culture. Perhaps most unique are some good tips should you ever find yourself in an enchanted wood: for example, if you want to understand what the trees are whispering to each other (“wisha wisha wisha”), wrap your arms around a tree and put your left ear to the trunk and you will know. My goodness, they are helpful!
Alexandra Boyer
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Classic British Fantasy: THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS by Kenneth Grahame
Grahame, Kenneth. The Wind in the Willows. Illustrated by Robin Lawrie. London: Puffin Books, 2008. ISBN 978-0-0141-32113-4. $4.99.
Reading Wind in the Willows is like a comfortable chat at home with friends: many times the reader vicariously sits down to a cozy hearth or home-cooked meal as we join Mole, Ratty, Mr. Badger and their companions in the simple events that mark the turning of the seasons along the river, and the not-so-simple escapades of the wealthy and reckless Toad of Toad Manor. Robin Lawrie’s whimsical, unpretentious sketches suit the book perfectly. Although in contemporary times the book is frequently abridged to just the plot that involves Toad’s infatuation with, and theft of, a motorcar, his subsequent imprisonment and escape, and the routing of the hooligan weasels from Toad Hall, the first two thirds of the book address life along the river. These chapters are written more reflectively and much more poetically than the Toad chapters, for example when Mole heads to the Wild Woods at the beginning of winter:
Grahame’s eloquent writing waxes almost as romantic in descriptions of longing for adventure as it does in depictions of the natural beauty surrounding our friends. Indeed, the adventure of Portly, told in the sequence “The Piper at the Gates of Dawn,” suggests that one coping mechanism for confining domesticity is escape into Nature in the transcendent sense, a spiritual adventure that takes place in another dimension while physical boundaries are maintained. After increasingly ethereal passages, such as “breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed him utterly,” an enraptured Rat and Mole find Portly in the lap of the demigod Pan. Pan magically erases their memory of the incident so that they won’t forever find their ordinary lives disappointing, “lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before.”
A second commendable outlet for inappropriate wanderlust is suggested by Mole’s considerate rehabilitation of the infatuated Rat, when the Rat’s imagination still thrills to the tales of the seafaring rat: Mole leaves a pen and paper beside the stunned Rat, and later peeks in to see Ratty scribbling poetry. “It was a joy to the Mole to know that the cure had at least begun.” If poetry is an acceptable “cure” for wanderlust, suddenly our reading experience is reflected back to us like an image rippling on the river, as we read Grahame’s poetic tales from the comfort and safety of our own hearths.
The single exception to the better-at home-than-adventuring message happens in the framing story of Mole. The book opens with Mole poking his nose out of his dear underground home during spring-cleaning. Mole discovers the river, Ratty, and emancipation; he never returns to his home except for one brief, deeply sentimental visit. If we believe the protagonist of this story is the character who undergoes change, then it is Mole (since no one believes Toad’s contrition). Mole morphs from a timid, naïve, protégée of Ratty to a courageous and strategic fighter, a companion with initiative and confidence—for example, in his tactics to drive the weasels from Toad Hall. A reversal of roles is also apparent when Mole calms the over-excited Ratty after the seafaring rat episode. Perhaps, given that Grahame wrote the story for his son, Mole represents the child who will grow up to be a companion to his father-friend, Ratty, after having learned the proper boundaries of responsible adulthood: out of the mole hole, but not past the river. In which case, if Ratty represents the poet-father Grahame, the seafaring rat episode takes on a curious hue—but this is more tedious analysis than Grahame’s lyrical, friendly, comforting tale deserves. Better we readers just drift in the boat with Ratty and Mole, rock with the lapping river waves, and listen to the whispers through the water reeds and the wind in the willows.
Alexandra Boyer
Reading Wind in the Willows is like a comfortable chat at home with friends: many times the reader vicariously sits down to a cozy hearth or home-cooked meal as we join Mole, Ratty, Mr. Badger and their companions in the simple events that mark the turning of the seasons along the river, and the not-so-simple escapades of the wealthy and reckless Toad of Toad Manor. Robin Lawrie’s whimsical, unpretentious sketches suit the book perfectly. Although in contemporary times the book is frequently abridged to just the plot that involves Toad’s infatuation with, and theft of, a motorcar, his subsequent imprisonment and escape, and the routing of the hooligan weasels from Toad Hall, the first two thirds of the book address life along the river. These chapters are written more reflectively and much more poetically than the Toad chapters, for example when Mole heads to the Wild Woods at the beginning of winter:
The country lay bare and entirely leafless around him, and he thought that he had never seen so far and so intimately into the insides of things as on that winter day when Nature was deep in her annual slumber and seemed to have kicked the clothes off. Copses, dells, quarries and all hidden places, which had been mysterious mines for exploration in leafy summer, now exposed themselves and their secrets pathetically, and seemed to ask him to overlook their shabby poverty for a while, till they could riot in rich masquerade as before, and trick and entice him with the old deceptions.Grahame’s gentle, pastoral world is, from a more detached perspective, a gender-bending oddity. The sympathetic characters are all animals (humans are “other”), and all of the animal characters are male. No wives, no sisters, no daughters, no lovers, and no female friends enter their homes, their adventures, or their conversations. Not only that, but all the sympathetic male characters, with the exception of the selfish and irresponsible Toad, are domestic and kind. They appear to have no professions whatever (although they don’t suffer from want), and they busy themselves with food stores for the winter, pots and plates for tea, and spare beds and clothes to lend to their friends. They take comfort in the same domestic joys, and feel the same domestic restrictions, that usually are attributed to females. The driving action of almost every chapter is around the same conflict: the desire for freedom and adventure vs. the wisdom and contentment of “staying home.” With one notable exception (the framing story of Mole, which will be considered later in this review), every conflict is decided in favor of staying home. Even the best known story of Toad and the stolen motorcar ends with an implied moral lesson from Toad’s prison ordeal, his terrifying and humiliating escape, and his final restoration to Toad Hall, where he at least makes a show, however unconvincing, of contrition and future commitment to be content at home. Other stories are variations of the same moral: Mole sets out to visit the Wild Woods and encounters fierce cold and terrifying weasels until happily Ratty recues him, leads him to Mr. Badger’s safe domicile, and then back home to the riverbank. A little later, Otter’s son Portly disappears on a river exploration; Ratty and Mole find him and bring him safely home. In a chapter titled “Wayfarers All,” Ratty has an encounter with a seafaring rat and feels the stirrings of wanderlust, until his friend Mole, seeing that Ratty is ill and “not himself,” restores the Rat to home and hearth, safe and sound.
Grahame’s eloquent writing waxes almost as romantic in descriptions of longing for adventure as it does in depictions of the natural beauty surrounding our friends. Indeed, the adventure of Portly, told in the sequence “The Piper at the Gates of Dawn,” suggests that one coping mechanism for confining domesticity is escape into Nature in the transcendent sense, a spiritual adventure that takes place in another dimension while physical boundaries are maintained. After increasingly ethereal passages, such as “breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed him utterly,” an enraptured Rat and Mole find Portly in the lap of the demigod Pan. Pan magically erases their memory of the incident so that they won’t forever find their ordinary lives disappointing, “lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before.”
A second commendable outlet for inappropriate wanderlust is suggested by Mole’s considerate rehabilitation of the infatuated Rat, when the Rat’s imagination still thrills to the tales of the seafaring rat: Mole leaves a pen and paper beside the stunned Rat, and later peeks in to see Ratty scribbling poetry. “It was a joy to the Mole to know that the cure had at least begun.” If poetry is an acceptable “cure” for wanderlust, suddenly our reading experience is reflected back to us like an image rippling on the river, as we read Grahame’s poetic tales from the comfort and safety of our own hearths.
The single exception to the better-at home-than-adventuring message happens in the framing story of Mole. The book opens with Mole poking his nose out of his dear underground home during spring-cleaning. Mole discovers the river, Ratty, and emancipation; he never returns to his home except for one brief, deeply sentimental visit. If we believe the protagonist of this story is the character who undergoes change, then it is Mole (since no one believes Toad’s contrition). Mole morphs from a timid, naïve, protégée of Ratty to a courageous and strategic fighter, a companion with initiative and confidence—for example, in his tactics to drive the weasels from Toad Hall. A reversal of roles is also apparent when Mole calms the over-excited Ratty after the seafaring rat episode. Perhaps, given that Grahame wrote the story for his son, Mole represents the child who will grow up to be a companion to his father-friend, Ratty, after having learned the proper boundaries of responsible adulthood: out of the mole hole, but not past the river. In which case, if Ratty represents the poet-father Grahame, the seafaring rat episode takes on a curious hue—but this is more tedious analysis than Grahame’s lyrical, friendly, comforting tale deserves. Better we readers just drift in the boat with Ratty and Mole, rock with the lapping river waves, and listen to the whispers through the water reeds and the wind in the willows.
Alexandra Boyer
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Classic British Fantasy: ALICE IN WONDERLAND by Lewis Carroll
Carroll, Lewis. Alice in Wonderland. Illustrated by John Tenniel. USA: CrabCube, Inc, 2010 (via Amazon's CreateSpace). ISBN: 9781453794777. $5.99.
Are there any English-speaking readers who are not acquainted with the adventures of mid-19th century Alice, the little girl who falls asleep only to follow a waist-coated, watch-carrying White Rabbit down down down the rabbit hole to a wonderland replete with substances that make her large or small, pithy platitudes that "do not come out the same as they used to do," talking animals, a Mad Hatter, Mock Turtle, enigmatic Chesire Cat (whose smile lingers after the Cat has disappeared), sharp-chinned Duchess, muddled King and enraged Queen of Hearts? First published as Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in 1865 by Oxford mathematician Charles Lutwidge Dodgson under the pseudonym Lewis Carroll, this charming and topsy-turvy tale, like the mouse’s tail, has wound and bent its way into the hearts of multiple generations.
“What use is a book,” thinks Alice, peeping at her sister’s book as they sit on the grassy bank, “without pictures or conversation?” The very affordable CrabCube 2010 reprint of Lewis’s original publication will disappoint in neither. John Tenniel’s enchanting illustrations are faithfully reproduced, and the conversations interrupt one another in plentitude: when not engaged in chatty absurdities, defiant contradictions and poetic recitations with the fantastic beings of Wonderland, the irrepressible Alice has conversations with herself (interspersed with the narrator’s parenthetical conversational asides to the reader), as for example, when she falls down the rabbit hole:
Reviewed by Alexandra Boyer
Are there any English-speaking readers who are not acquainted with the adventures of mid-19th century Alice, the little girl who falls asleep only to follow a waist-coated, watch-carrying White Rabbit down down down the rabbit hole to a wonderland replete with substances that make her large or small, pithy platitudes that "do not come out the same as they used to do," talking animals, a Mad Hatter, Mock Turtle, enigmatic Chesire Cat (whose smile lingers after the Cat has disappeared), sharp-chinned Duchess, muddled King and enraged Queen of Hearts? First published as Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in 1865 by Oxford mathematician Charles Lutwidge Dodgson under the pseudonym Lewis Carroll, this charming and topsy-turvy tale, like the mouse’s tail, has wound and bent its way into the hearts of multiple generations.
“What use is a book,” thinks Alice, peeping at her sister’s book as they sit on the grassy bank, “without pictures or conversation?” The very affordable CrabCube 2010 reprint of Lewis’s original publication will disappoint in neither. John Tenniel’s enchanting illustrations are faithfully reproduced, and the conversations interrupt one another in plentitude: when not engaged in chatty absurdities, defiant contradictions and poetic recitations with the fantastic beings of Wonderland, the irrepressible Alice has conversations with herself (interspersed with the narrator’s parenthetical conversational asides to the reader), as for example, when she falls down the rabbit hole:
"I wonder how many miles I’ve fallen by this time?" she said aloud. "I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think"— (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over).Frequently lauded for its humor, literary nonsense, word play, inverted logic and fantasy, Alice in Wonderland can also be read as a social commentary on the tyranny of entering adulthood in class-conscious Victorian England. A timid but inquisitive Alice struggles for the proper grown-up social response, be it to an invitation to wine when there is nothing but tea (“‘then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,’ said Alice angrily”), or to a Duchess that violently tosses her baby while singing (“the poor thing howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words”), events which are treated with equal dismay by the precocious, somewhat snobby little girl destined to mature into an upper-class protector of British culture. The naughtiness and logical defiance of the creatures of Wonderland must have delighted the repressed children for whom the story was written, the Liddell and Macdonald children among them, but the naughtiness stays within safe perimeters, and ultimately Alice dismisses all the aberrant creatures with adult aplomb, pointing out each logical error of the king and queen in the final trial scene, and concluding, “‘Who cares for you? You’re nothing but a pack of cards!’” The appeal of Lewis’s subversive wit delights even in our permissive age. Enjoy your dip into Wonderland once more.
Reviewed by Alexandra Boyer
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Classic British Fantasy: MATILDA by Roald Dahl
Dahl, Roald. Matilda. Illustrated by Quentin Blake. New York: Puffin Books, 2007. ISBN 978-0-14-241037. $6.99.
Warning: Do not pick up this book for the first time from your bedside table at night—you will not sleep until you have finished the last page.
The engaging Matilda is a much neglected second child of despicable parents, the Wormwoods, who think of her “like a scab,” and who “looked forward enormously to the time when they could pick their little daughter off and flick her away, preferably into the next country or even further than that.” Before the reader is allowed to bleed too much heart for this poor little girl, the author reveals that she is outrageously, impossibly intelligent—teaching herself to read before she is three, doing difficult arithmetic in her head before she is five, and so on. Thus, Matilda comes into an extremely hard life with some very impressive equipment—and that sets up the first conflict of the book, as Matilda strategizes her way to happiness in spite of oppressive circumstances. The second, related, conflict is introduced when Matilda begins school under the tutelage of the lovable Miss Honey, who, along with all the school children, are brutalized by the powerful, nasty headmistress, Miss Trunchbull. Matilda’s guiding motivation to create her own happiness extends to the happiness of her friends and her dear teacher: she applies her intelligence resourcefully, undaunted.
The reader does not begrudge Matilda her astounding brilliance. Like the librarian who observes in silent amazement the neglected 4-year-old absorbed in Great Expectations, or the sweet Miss Honey, who inwardly thrills to a child prodigy, the reader likes this quiet child of good will and bright ideas. Even other children at school like her—perhaps because Matilda accepts herself without doubt or conceit. She just gets on with it. Quentin Blake’s perky, whimsical sketches convey a Jules Feiffer-like intensity coupled with lightness of spirit that suit Matilda perfectly.
Why is this book so good? It’s not “beautifully written;” it doesn’t parse out profundities or soul-searing pathos (although a plot with clear-cut bad guys who get their comeuppance is certainly gratifying these days). What is it that makes the reader immediately want to lend it to a friend, buy it for a niece? I think it has to be Matilda’s wonderful resiliency. In every adverse situation, she wastes no time feeling sorry for herself, but immediately begins to strategize her way to a better, happier life. She is not a cloying goodie-good little girl (for example, revengeful pranks on her father make her happy), but she is basically kind, lovable, and appealing, as well as super intelligent. Above all, she is confident and guilt-free. Her unassuming, can-do attitude permeates the world of the book, a world where a child can be swung around by the hair and thrown over the playground fence into a playing field, bounce three times, and then get up cartoon-like with a dazed shake of the head, pained but not damaged. Matilda and her friends, like trodden grass, spring back green and growing and alive no matter what. They might quake in terror when Miss Trunchbull looms over them with malice in her eye and a riding crop in her hand, but in terms of human spirit, they are irrepressible.
I finished the last page with a smile—perhaps a slightly patronizing smile—after eagerly anticipating the completely predictable ending. Yet the next morning, Matilda had seeped into my spirit with typical disregard for any of my pretence at grown-up superiority: I caught myself reviewing my long-shot hopes and dreams, and thinking “Why not?”
Alexandra Boyer
Warning: Do not pick up this book for the first time from your bedside table at night—you will not sleep until you have finished the last page.
The engaging Matilda is a much neglected second child of despicable parents, the Wormwoods, who think of her “like a scab,” and who “looked forward enormously to the time when they could pick their little daughter off and flick her away, preferably into the next country or even further than that.” Before the reader is allowed to bleed too much heart for this poor little girl, the author reveals that she is outrageously, impossibly intelligent—teaching herself to read before she is three, doing difficult arithmetic in her head before she is five, and so on. Thus, Matilda comes into an extremely hard life with some very impressive equipment—and that sets up the first conflict of the book, as Matilda strategizes her way to happiness in spite of oppressive circumstances. The second, related, conflict is introduced when Matilda begins school under the tutelage of the lovable Miss Honey, who, along with all the school children, are brutalized by the powerful, nasty headmistress, Miss Trunchbull. Matilda’s guiding motivation to create her own happiness extends to the happiness of her friends and her dear teacher: she applies her intelligence resourcefully, undaunted.
The reader does not begrudge Matilda her astounding brilliance. Like the librarian who observes in silent amazement the neglected 4-year-old absorbed in Great Expectations, or the sweet Miss Honey, who inwardly thrills to a child prodigy, the reader likes this quiet child of good will and bright ideas. Even other children at school like her—perhaps because Matilda accepts herself without doubt or conceit. She just gets on with it. Quentin Blake’s perky, whimsical sketches convey a Jules Feiffer-like intensity coupled with lightness of spirit that suit Matilda perfectly.
Why is this book so good? It’s not “beautifully written;” it doesn’t parse out profundities or soul-searing pathos (although a plot with clear-cut bad guys who get their comeuppance is certainly gratifying these days). What is it that makes the reader immediately want to lend it to a friend, buy it for a niece? I think it has to be Matilda’s wonderful resiliency. In every adverse situation, she wastes no time feeling sorry for herself, but immediately begins to strategize her way to a better, happier life. She is not a cloying goodie-good little girl (for example, revengeful pranks on her father make her happy), but she is basically kind, lovable, and appealing, as well as super intelligent. Above all, she is confident and guilt-free. Her unassuming, can-do attitude permeates the world of the book, a world where a child can be swung around by the hair and thrown over the playground fence into a playing field, bounce three times, and then get up cartoon-like with a dazed shake of the head, pained but not damaged. Matilda and her friends, like trodden grass, spring back green and growing and alive no matter what. They might quake in terror when Miss Trunchbull looms over them with malice in her eye and a riding crop in her hand, but in terms of human spirit, they are irrepressible.
I finished the last page with a smile—perhaps a slightly patronizing smile—after eagerly anticipating the completely predictable ending. Yet the next morning, Matilda had seeped into my spirit with typical disregard for any of my pretence at grown-up superiority: I caught myself reviewing my long-shot hopes and dreams, and thinking “Why not?”
Alexandra Boyer
Monday, February 20, 2012
ALANNA: THE FIRST ADVENTURE by Tamora Pierce
Pierce, Tamora. Alanna: The First Adventure. New York: Atheneum, 1983. ISBN 9781442426412. $8.99. Ages 10-14. 249 pp.
Well loved by young readers since its debut, this version of Tamora Pierce’s first book is a 2010 republished trade edition. Alanna is the first book in a quartet called Song of the Lioness, and introduces the world Pierce created in the realm of Tortall. Many of her other books take place in the same world. Alanna is not like most noble girls her age. When her father decides it is time to send Alanna and her twin brother Thom off to school—Alanna to the convent to learn how to be a lady, and Thom to become a knight—Alanna comes up with the plan to switch places with her brother. Thom, not wanting to become a knight any more than Alanna wants to become a proper lady, goes off to the convent to learn how to be a sorcerer, while Alanna disguises herself as a boy and begins lessons as a page in training bound towards knighthood. Though Alanna had thought herself one of the best at her home at fief Trebond, at the palace, it is not so easy for her. She has to keep the secret of being a girl from her teachers and fellow pages, and deal the tough training while being smaller than the other boys often having to work extra hard in secret to build up her upper body strength to compete with the boys. Yet through it all Alanna has grand adventures, meeting and befriending the king of the thieves, and learning how to use and not fear her own magic powers to save the prince from death and defeat an evil presence in a haunted city.
The world that Pierce has created is intriguing as it contains elements of a medieval society complete with sword fights, magic, mystery, and clashes between good and evil. Alanna is a likeable heroine despite being stubborn with a quick temper, and I found myself rooting for her to succeed and prove that a girl can be just as strong and courageous as any boy. Without knowing her secret, Alanna gains the admiration of her peers and the book hints that Alanna is destined for more great deeds and is favored by the gods. The end of the books leaves you wanting to pick up the rest of the books in the series just to find out what happens and see all that she achieves.
Joyce Myers
Well loved by young readers since its debut, this version of Tamora Pierce’s first book is a 2010 republished trade edition. Alanna is the first book in a quartet called Song of the Lioness, and introduces the world Pierce created in the realm of Tortall. Many of her other books take place in the same world. Alanna is not like most noble girls her age. When her father decides it is time to send Alanna and her twin brother Thom off to school—Alanna to the convent to learn how to be a lady, and Thom to become a knight—Alanna comes up with the plan to switch places with her brother. Thom, not wanting to become a knight any more than Alanna wants to become a proper lady, goes off to the convent to learn how to be a sorcerer, while Alanna disguises herself as a boy and begins lessons as a page in training bound towards knighthood. Though Alanna had thought herself one of the best at her home at fief Trebond, at the palace, it is not so easy for her. She has to keep the secret of being a girl from her teachers and fellow pages, and deal the tough training while being smaller than the other boys often having to work extra hard in secret to build up her upper body strength to compete with the boys. Yet through it all Alanna has grand adventures, meeting and befriending the king of the thieves, and learning how to use and not fear her own magic powers to save the prince from death and defeat an evil presence in a haunted city.
The world that Pierce has created is intriguing as it contains elements of a medieval society complete with sword fights, magic, mystery, and clashes between good and evil. Alanna is a likeable heroine despite being stubborn with a quick temper, and I found myself rooting for her to succeed and prove that a girl can be just as strong and courageous as any boy. Without knowing her secret, Alanna gains the admiration of her peers and the book hints that Alanna is destined for more great deeds and is favored by the gods. The end of the books leaves you wanting to pick up the rest of the books in the series just to find out what happens and see all that she achieves.
Joyce Myers
MUDKIN by Stephen Gammell
Gammell, Stephen. Mudkin. Minneapolis, NM: Carolrhoda Books, 2011. ISBN 978-0-7613-5790-2. $16.95. Ages 5-8.
What child doesn’t love playing in the mud? Mud even offers endless possibilities for adventure in the imagination. Mudkin is an almost wordless picturebook about a girl’s adventure one afternoon after a rainstorm. On this fantastic day, the girl meets Mudkin, a creature of earth and fantasy who makes the girl a queen, dressing her in fine mud apparel, and whisks her away to a castle where she meets her mud subjects. It’s a glorious afternoon there, but then the rain returns. The girl must return home, although she will never forget her subjects, nor ever stop being their queen.
Mudkin is a strong reminder that you can present children with all the toys in the world, but nothing beats the imagination and nature. Gammell’s illustrations are marvelous in depicting what is going on in the girl’s head better than any words could. Mudkin looks like a blob with knobby arms and legs and an onion shaped head. The things Mudkin then creates out of the mud are incredible, including a mud crown and robe for the queen, a wonderful mud carriage, and castle. In the few words and dialogue featured in the book, the girl talks to Mudkin and her subjects. While her speech is in text, what the mud creatures speak are lines of mud, leaving it up to the reader to infer what they are saying. Not only is this book a story about a child’s imagination, it requires readers to use their own imagination to interpret the story. It is a clever and beautiful book.
Joyce Myers
What child doesn’t love playing in the mud? Mud even offers endless possibilities for adventure in the imagination. Mudkin is an almost wordless picturebook about a girl’s adventure one afternoon after a rainstorm. On this fantastic day, the girl meets Mudkin, a creature of earth and fantasy who makes the girl a queen, dressing her in fine mud apparel, and whisks her away to a castle where she meets her mud subjects. It’s a glorious afternoon there, but then the rain returns. The girl must return home, although she will never forget her subjects, nor ever stop being their queen.
Mudkin is a strong reminder that you can present children with all the toys in the world, but nothing beats the imagination and nature. Gammell’s illustrations are marvelous in depicting what is going on in the girl’s head better than any words could. Mudkin looks like a blob with knobby arms and legs and an onion shaped head. The things Mudkin then creates out of the mud are incredible, including a mud crown and robe for the queen, a wonderful mud carriage, and castle. In the few words and dialogue featured in the book, the girl talks to Mudkin and her subjects. While her speech is in text, what the mud creatures speak are lines of mud, leaving it up to the reader to infer what they are saying. Not only is this book a story about a child’s imagination, it requires readers to use their own imagination to interpret the story. It is a clever and beautiful book.
Joyce Myers
THE ACCIDENTAL HERO by Matt Myklusch
Myklusch, Matt. The Accidental Hero. New York: Aladdin, 2010. ISBN 9781416995623. $6.99. Ages 9-12. 468 pp.
Growing up in an orphanage named St. Barnaby’s Home for the Hopeless, Abandoned, Forgotten, and Lost does not inspire a kid to have much hope or fun in life. Jack Blank has spent the whole of his life at St. Barnaby’s, where he is not only the most disliked and picked upon child, he doesn’t even know who he is. The last name Blank only came about because he always had to leave the field for last name blank when filling out forms, and to top it all off, according to his school aptitude tests, his highest career aspiration is to become a toilet brush cleaner. Yet, Jack is not without spirit. He is creative and imaginative despite all efforts to beat it out of him, thanks to the comic books he smuggled out of the trash. Then one day, Jack is attacked by a Robo-Zombie, just like a character in one of his comic books and everything changes. All of a sudden a mysterious agent appears to take Jack to an island called the Imagine Nation, where it seems Jack was born. In the Imagine Nation, Jack realizes that his favorite comic book characters are real. The citizens of Imagine Nation range from superheroes, warriors, aliens, robots, and ninjas to inventive scientists and technologists. In the Imagine Nation, Jack discovers that he too has powers and in learning his identity realizes that the distinction between hero and villain is not as clear it seems in comic books.
Incorporating elements of comic books, medieval legends, fantasy and science fiction, the world Matt Myklusch created in the Imagine Nation is vast and inventive. The book moves slowly at first due the enormity of genres and concepts Myklusch needs to illustrate in order to establish the background and describe the many facets of the landscape of the Imagine Nation, but after that readers will find themselves engaged in both the storyline, which is in solving the mystery of Jack’s identity, and the intricacies of the Imagine Nation itself.
One of the concepts detailed in the book that I really enjoyed is creativity and the power of the imagination. The agent who takes Jack to the Imagine Nation tells him that he has to truly believe before he goes there:
Joyce Myers
Growing up in an orphanage named St. Barnaby’s Home for the Hopeless, Abandoned, Forgotten, and Lost does not inspire a kid to have much hope or fun in life. Jack Blank has spent the whole of his life at St. Barnaby’s, where he is not only the most disliked and picked upon child, he doesn’t even know who he is. The last name Blank only came about because he always had to leave the field for last name blank when filling out forms, and to top it all off, according to his school aptitude tests, his highest career aspiration is to become a toilet brush cleaner. Yet, Jack is not without spirit. He is creative and imaginative despite all efforts to beat it out of him, thanks to the comic books he smuggled out of the trash. Then one day, Jack is attacked by a Robo-Zombie, just like a character in one of his comic books and everything changes. All of a sudden a mysterious agent appears to take Jack to an island called the Imagine Nation, where it seems Jack was born. In the Imagine Nation, Jack realizes that his favorite comic book characters are real. The citizens of Imagine Nation range from superheroes, warriors, aliens, robots, and ninjas to inventive scientists and technologists. In the Imagine Nation, Jack discovers that he too has powers and in learning his identity realizes that the distinction between hero and villain is not as clear it seems in comic books.
Incorporating elements of comic books, medieval legends, fantasy and science fiction, the world Matt Myklusch created in the Imagine Nation is vast and inventive. The book moves slowly at first due the enormity of genres and concepts Myklusch needs to illustrate in order to establish the background and describe the many facets of the landscape of the Imagine Nation, but after that readers will find themselves engaged in both the storyline, which is in solving the mystery of Jack’s identity, and the intricacies of the Imagine Nation itself.
One of the concepts detailed in the book that I really enjoyed is creativity and the power of the imagination. The agent who takes Jack to the Imagine Nation tells him that he has to truly believe before he goes there:
All the fantastic, unbelievable things in this world start in the Imagine Nation. It’s a real place, but you can’t get there if you try to keep one foot in the real world when you go. Only people who believe in the unbelievable are able to see the island. To find it, you have to believe that there’s a place out there where the impossible is possible. You have to believe it deep in your heart. If you can’t do that, you won’t recognize it when you see it. Even if it’s staring you right in the face.The agent tells Jack it is the influence of the Imagine Nation that led to time periods like the Age of Exploration and the Enlightenment, and that many long ago writers, artists and world changers came from the Imagine Nation. But it is not the same anymore with less people being able to find the Imagine Nation and becoming less adventurous. It parallels our modern times, where children do not read as much and there is less creativity in schools. It is thanks to books like The Accidental Hero, and other fantastical and imaginative stories that reading is beginning to regain popularity. Along with supporting the renewal of creativity and imagination, this book also stresses that a person’s future is what they make of it. Overall, this is an enjoyable book.
Joyce Myers
THOMAS AND THE DRAGON QUEEN by Shutta Crum
Crum, Shutta. Thomas and the Dragon Queen. New York: Knopf, 2010. ISBN 9780375857034. $15.99. Ages 7-11. 266 pp.
Despite being the oldest of nine children, twelve-year-old Thomas is a comparatively small boy. Yet he dreams of training to be a knight and serving the kingdom. One day, a chance encounter with Sir Gerald, a knight of the realm, brings Thomas the opportunity to go to the castle and train. The kingdom is experiencing hard times and needs the help of any who are willing and able bodied, even a boy who is extremely short. Sir Gerald sees that Thomas possesses the knightly qualities of being smart and hard working and decides to gives him a chance. Thomas perseveres through his training, working past the ridicules of his peers, eventually gaining the privilege of becoming squire to Sir Gerald. Then one day, a dragon queen kidnaps the princess. There are no knights available to send to her rescue due to the war. Thomas valiantly volunteers and the king agrees to send him and so Sir Thomas heads out on his first quest armed only with a sword just barely longer than a dagger, and a donkey, outfitted only with a leather vest. It is the adventure of a lifetime and Thomas proves that size that nothing to do with what it truly means to be knightly.
Although the basic premise of the story sounds like a generic fairytale, with a knight on a quest to rescue a princess guarded by a dragon, it is anything but typical. The hero is not tall and handsome; he is not even grown up. And when he reaches the dragon’s lair, it is not the standard evil, ferocious, treasure-guarding dragon he meets, and it is not a knight’s strength that is needed to rescue the princess and defeat the dragon. Accompanied by black and white illustrations, some small drawings, others full page or double spreads depicting scenes from the book, for example Thomas among his younger brothers and sisters, several of whom are much bigger than him, or Thomas riding on his little donkey, this book is great for young readers transitioning from picture books to longer chapter books. The story keeps readers surprised and enthralled and emphasizes the importance of qualities such as courage, loyalty and honesty over that of physical appearance and prowess.
Joyce Myers
Despite being the oldest of nine children, twelve-year-old Thomas is a comparatively small boy. Yet he dreams of training to be a knight and serving the kingdom. One day, a chance encounter with Sir Gerald, a knight of the realm, brings Thomas the opportunity to go to the castle and train. The kingdom is experiencing hard times and needs the help of any who are willing and able bodied, even a boy who is extremely short. Sir Gerald sees that Thomas possesses the knightly qualities of being smart and hard working and decides to gives him a chance. Thomas perseveres through his training, working past the ridicules of his peers, eventually gaining the privilege of becoming squire to Sir Gerald. Then one day, a dragon queen kidnaps the princess. There are no knights available to send to her rescue due to the war. Thomas valiantly volunteers and the king agrees to send him and so Sir Thomas heads out on his first quest armed only with a sword just barely longer than a dagger, and a donkey, outfitted only with a leather vest. It is the adventure of a lifetime and Thomas proves that size that nothing to do with what it truly means to be knightly.
Although the basic premise of the story sounds like a generic fairytale, with a knight on a quest to rescue a princess guarded by a dragon, it is anything but typical. The hero is not tall and handsome; he is not even grown up. And when he reaches the dragon’s lair, it is not the standard evil, ferocious, treasure-guarding dragon he meets, and it is not a knight’s strength that is needed to rescue the princess and defeat the dragon. Accompanied by black and white illustrations, some small drawings, others full page or double spreads depicting scenes from the book, for example Thomas among his younger brothers and sisters, several of whom are much bigger than him, or Thomas riding on his little donkey, this book is great for young readers transitioning from picture books to longer chapter books. The story keeps readers surprised and enthralled and emphasizes the importance of qualities such as courage, loyalty and honesty over that of physical appearance and prowess.
Joyce Myers
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Review: THE LEGEND OF THE GOLDEN SNAIL by Graeme Base
Base, Graeme. The Legend of the Golden Snail. NY: Abrams, 2010. ISBN 0-8109-8965-8. $19.95 HC.
Graeme Base’s first best-seller, the 1987 alphabet book Animalia, introduced his gorgeous, intricate, eye-and-imagination-catching art and his playful language, such as “Unruly unicorns upending urns of ultramarine umbrellas” to children and adults around the world. In the nearly quarter century he has been writing and painting since the first book, he has continued to produce distinctive, popular picturebooks. His newest, The Legend of the Golden Snail, is one of his best.
Young Wilbur loves the legend of the Grand Enchanter who sends his great ship, the Golden Snail, to the Ends of the Earth until a new Grand Enchanter appears. Wilbur determines he will be the next enchanter, and, with a captain’s hat made by his mother and with her best wishes, he sets off across the ocean in a rowboat with his cat. Along the way, he stops to save thirsty butterfly flowers, frees a colossal crab tangled in a net, and overcomes the earwig pirates who are stealing the lantern fish’s lightbulbs. But he worries these, to him, less than heroic acts will not exhibit his qualifications to be the next Grand Enchanter. Readers know better: as in the fairy tales, one who does good things selflessly will prosper, and, indeed, when Wilbur is stuck in the Dreadful Doldrums, the butterflies come to his aid, as do the crab and the lantern fish.
Soon Wilbur arrives at the End of the Earth. To his disappointment, the snail ship appears to be merely a little snail stuck in the sand. Ah, but Wilbur, having listened so well to the legend, knows the magic verse to bring the little snail into its full sailing ship size. In a series of stunning double-truck pages, Wilbur’s joyous flight on the glorious snail ship is depicted in memorably beautiful scenes (think of the flying bike scene in E.T. ). The essence of the story comes in Wilbur’s ultimate decision: he chooses to release the magic ship, sending it back for the next Grand Enchanter and return home in the rowboat with his cat. The reward for his humility is: his own tiny rowboat turns to gold and sprouts wings. The final picture is unforgettable; the boy and his cat heading home in the flying golden rowboat, setting off into a fabulously vibrant sky and feeling content to no longer be the Grand Enchanter but rather Wilbur, the Gallant Captain.
The Legend of the Golden Snail, characteristically of Base’s many books, offers interactive games like hidden objects to spot, maps, and beautifully detailed art; it’s a picturebook feast.
Alida Allison
Graeme Base’s first best-seller, the 1987 alphabet book Animalia, introduced his gorgeous, intricate, eye-and-imagination-catching art and his playful language, such as “Unruly unicorns upending urns of ultramarine umbrellas” to children and adults around the world. In the nearly quarter century he has been writing and painting since the first book, he has continued to produce distinctive, popular picturebooks. His newest, The Legend of the Golden Snail, is one of his best.
Young Wilbur loves the legend of the Grand Enchanter who sends his great ship, the Golden Snail, to the Ends of the Earth until a new Grand Enchanter appears. Wilbur determines he will be the next enchanter, and, with a captain’s hat made by his mother and with her best wishes, he sets off across the ocean in a rowboat with his cat. Along the way, he stops to save thirsty butterfly flowers, frees a colossal crab tangled in a net, and overcomes the earwig pirates who are stealing the lantern fish’s lightbulbs. But he worries these, to him, less than heroic acts will not exhibit his qualifications to be the next Grand Enchanter. Readers know better: as in the fairy tales, one who does good things selflessly will prosper, and, indeed, when Wilbur is stuck in the Dreadful Doldrums, the butterflies come to his aid, as do the crab and the lantern fish.
Soon Wilbur arrives at the End of the Earth. To his disappointment, the snail ship appears to be merely a little snail stuck in the sand. Ah, but Wilbur, having listened so well to the legend, knows the magic verse to bring the little snail into its full sailing ship size. In a series of stunning double-truck pages, Wilbur’s joyous flight on the glorious snail ship is depicted in memorably beautiful scenes (think of the flying bike scene in E.T. ). The essence of the story comes in Wilbur’s ultimate decision: he chooses to release the magic ship, sending it back for the next Grand Enchanter and return home in the rowboat with his cat. The reward for his humility is: his own tiny rowboat turns to gold and sprouts wings. The final picture is unforgettable; the boy and his cat heading home in the flying golden rowboat, setting off into a fabulously vibrant sky and feeling content to no longer be the Grand Enchanter but rather Wilbur, the Gallant Captain.
The Legend of the Golden Snail, characteristically of Base’s many books, offers interactive games like hidden objects to spot, maps, and beautifully detailed art; it’s a picturebook feast.
Alida Allison
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