Curious about Beginning & Transitional Readers

 

Image source: author

Tabor, Corey R. Fox the Tiger. 2018. 32 pages. LP: $4.99, ISBN: 9780062398697.  Ages: 4-8. 

Fox the Tiger is part of the popular "I Can Read" series of books published by HarperKids. These books are organized by reading levels, starting with "My Very First," which are book sets, and continuing on through level 4:

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Fox the Tiger is classified as "My First/Shared Reading which consists of basic language, word repetition, and whimsical illustrations, ideal for sharing with your emergent reader" (Fox and Tiger, cover page).

Using Horning's classifications, Fox and Tiger falls best into Level One. While some lines do have more than 5 words, most lines are 5 and under. Sentences are also mainly under 7 words, and the ones that go over (like this one pictured, which has 8 words) include short sight words:

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The sentence is "I wish I were a tiger." says Fox, and although it is contains 8 words, 6 of them are sight words. In fact, many of the words in this book are sight words and words with 1-3 syllables. Finally, all pages have fewer than 7 lines, in fact, no page has more than 3 lines. So Fox and Tiger falls neatly into Horning's Level One classification.

In addition to being appropriate for a nascent reader, Fox and Tiger's pastel and line illustrations and simple moral should be compelling to young children. Fox longs to be "big and fast and sneaky" like a tiger, and a bit of paint helps him to achieve this wish. Soon other woodland animals are using paint to transform themselves, but a rain storm returns them to their original forms. In the end, they are happy to be who there are.

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Image Source: author

LaRochelle, David. See the Cat: Three Stories About a Dog. Illustrated by Mike Wohnoutka, 2020. 64 pages. LP: $8.99,  ISBN: 978–1536204278. Preschool through grade 3.

This humorous book, made up of 3 stories, falls somewhere between Horning's Level One and Two categories. Its type is large and most lines have 3, 4, or 5 words. Most sentences have 3-4 words, however a some have over 7 words and one sentence consists of 19 words. These longer sentences include cumulative phrases that have come in the pages that precede for example:

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While this page has a 19-word sentence, the phrases "run and jump" and "spin and fly" have come before. 

In addition to 11 pages (out of 64) with sentences over 7 words long, there are 2 multi-syllabic words including "unicorn" and "embarrassed." Many words are sight words, but this book also has some longer, more sophisticated vocabulary.

Compared to Fox and Tiger which I consider above, See the Cat is a bit more complex. It is still beginner-level in many ways. Its clever concept with the book talking on one page and the dog responding on the facing page, keeps the lines brief with ample white space and funny illustrations dominating the dog's page. Using Horning's classifications, if we take Fox and Tiger as a baseline for Level One, I would classify See the Cat as a Level 1.5. 

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English, Karen. Nikki & Deja. Illustrated by Laura Freeman, 2007. 80 pages. LP: $9.99, ISBN:  9780547133621. Ages 4-7. 

"Transitional books serve as a bridge...that some children will cross very quickly; others will linger for a while. The best transitional books will suggest that the trip across is worth it and great things await them on the other side." (Horning, 137)

Nikki & Deja brings readers beyond the first three classification levels, bridging the gap to more text-heavy chapter books. It is classified as a transition book, as Horning describes in the quote above. While slim at 76 pages, it covers a far more involved plot over several chapters than do the first three levels. The following picture and analysis show why it fits comfortably in the transition book category:

Image source: author's

Pages 16 and 17 illustrate how Nikki & Deja qualifies as a transitional book. First, the typeface is relatively large--I believe this is 14 point. Secondly, the number of lines per page is 23 if you count full lines; 26 if you count lines made up of 1 or 2 words. Thirdly, the number of words per line runs from 7 to 10. Margins are quite generous, and there are full-page black and white illustrations throughout--at least one per chapter and sometimes more. There are also partial-page illustrations scattered across chapters. Chapters are short and episodic, each one conveying a particular plot point (in the case of Chapter 4, the arrival of Antonia, the new neighbor, in school and the main characters' conflict with her on the playground). 

As is important in transitional books, the vocabulary is kept simple with descriptive words, but not too many. Some nouns are unmodified: "backpack, cubby, ruler" whereas adjectives modify others: "perfectly good seat, pink plastic pencil case, small stapler". These adjectives help create images of the scene in readers' minds, without being too unfamiliar or complex. Sentences are short, direct and uncomplicated: "All heads bend toward their blank pages" and "A few take time to stare into space". Perhaps in a chapter book for more advanced readers, these two sentences would be combined with "while" linking them and perhaps even more phrases. As it is, these shorter sentences are easier to digest and still convey an idea of what is going on in the classroom.

Nikki & Deja is an interesting book with tension surrounding a new neighbor and classmate, leading to a friendship breakup, resolving in best friends coming back together. Compared to the first three levels of beginning readers, there is more here across many variables--words, descriptors, sentences, plot, chapters. These work together to tell a compelling, not too complicated story. 

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Bruchac, Joseph. rez dogs. 2022. 192 pages. LP: $8.99, ISBN: 9780593326220. ages 8-12.

"Novels in verse have earned their place in the mainstream of children’s and young adult literature...and this is good news for reluctant readers, especially reluctant middle-grade and middle-school readers. Compared to a conventional novel, a novel in verse has perhaps half the number of words per page — and isn’t that half the battle with reluctant readers?" (The Horn Book, 2015)

rez dogs by Joseph Bruchac, author of the acclaimed YA book Code Talker, does not quite fit neatly in 

the categories Horning presents in her chapter on easy readers and transition books. It comes closest to being a transition book, but rather than serving as a bridge between easier titles and longer chapter books, I think it exists unselfconsciously as its own category--the novel in verse.

Across several variables, rez dogs appears to be a transition book. Its type is relatively large, there are typically 20 or less lines per page with each line typically containing 5 or fewer words. Each page has plenty of white space and chapters are short. Consider pages 50-51:

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This is a novel in verse, which Horning covers in Chapter 4 and describes as "full length fiction written as a series of connected poems, generally free verse" (page 82). The sparseness of its text laser-focuses the reader on the themes of the book, just like poetry conveys worlds within a few, beautifully-evocative lines. As The Horn Book article quoted above emphasizes, not only does this genre serve an artistic purpose, it can be especially appealing to reluctant readers. Rather than being faced with overwhelming, dense lines of text, books like rez dogs keep their text spartan and collected toward one side of the page, reserving plenty of white space throughout. Each stanza contains few lines and each line, few words such as from the above photo:

"The ironic thing,

Malian thought,

about her mom being

taken away,

is that it was 

almost the same

as what happened 

to her grandparents"

(Bruchac, page 51)

Why not classify it as a transition book and be done with it? Because I feel rez dogs does not sit comfortably in this category. While its chapters are not long, they convey more nuanced content than the episodic chapters of a transition or bridge book. They are not illustrated. Word choice is surgical, but words are not necessarily simple for example:

whilst

goldarn

intelligence

rippling

ironic

eugenics.

One criterion is that transition books have content that is compelling enough to hold interest, but not too complicated or hard to follow. rez dogs is not complicated, but it does move the reader between times, considering incidents that happened to the main character's grandparents and parents. On pages 50-51 above, the existence of the Indian Boarding Schools and the forced removals of native children to foster families are broached. While rez dogs does not change points of view or voices, it brings the reader along so they can understand the complexity underlying the Penacook heritage and how it affects modern-day tribal members. Chapters are short, but cover deeper topics more thoughtfully than do the chapters in Nikki & Deja, for example.

While not explicitly considered a "hi-lo" title either, rez dogs shares some of the benefits of these high interest, low readability books. It covers topics more interesting for middle grade and middle school students but in a less intimidating way due to its format. It is not coded as young as a book like Nikki & Deja is. Even its cover art work is less cartoonish. Its vocabulary is accessible but more sophisticated. Overall, it is a good entry for all readers, reluctant or not, into the genre of novels in verse.

Sources

Bruchac, Joseph. Rez Dogs. Playaway Products, LLC, 2024. 

English, Karen. Nikki & Deja. Clarion Books, 2013. 

Horning, Kathleen T. From Cover to Cover: Evaluating and Reviewing Children’s Books. Collins, 2010. 

Joe Bruchac. Joe Bruchac, joebruchac.com/. Accessed 26 Oct. 2024. 

LaRochelle David, and Mike Wohnoutka. See the Cat David Larochelle. Candlewick Press, 2021. 

Raybuck, Dorie. “Field Notes: ‘This Is Too Much!’ Why Verse Novels Work for Reluctant Readers.” The Horn Book, www.hbook.com/story/field-notes-this-is-too-much-why-verse-novels-work-for-reluctant-readers. Accessed 26 Oct. 2024. 

Tabor, Corey R. Fox the Tiger. Scholastic Inc, 2019. 

                                                                                                                                                         

Curious about Information Books

 

Image Source: Libby

Weatherford, Carole Boston. Unspeakable: The Tulsa Race Massacre. Illustrated by Floyd Cooper, 2021. 32 pages. LP: $17.99, ISBN: 9781541581203. Grade level: 3-6.

The first glimpse of Unspeakable: The Tulsa Race Massacre lets the reader know this book is going to tell a powerful, if troubling, story. The front cover characters, depicted by Floyd Cooper in his signature oil erasure style,  epitomize the emotions of anxiety (father), despair (mother), fear (daughter) and something like testimony from the baby who looks piercingly out at the reader. Cooper portrays this same, implacable expression

Image Source: Libby. pages 3-4

further in the book when he shows a family settling in Tulsa, Oklahoma, proud descendants of Black Indians and former slaves, fleeing a segregated and violent South. Again, these two girls' expressions pierce into the soul of the audience as if to say "do not forget us. do not forget what happened here."

But as Carole Boston Weatherford's true account, told in picture book style, reveals, we did forget for over 75 years. We forgot about the thriving Greenwood community, America's Black Wall Street. We forgot how it was destroyed, over 300 of its Black citizens massacred. Working beautifully together, Weatherford's text and Cooper's illustrations ensure we won't forget again.

Unspeakable's tale unspools like all good fairy tales with "Once upon a time," and like traditional story tellers, Weatherford speaks of both joy and trouble. She lays out what pulled and pushed Black migration to Tulsa, not shying from the realities of racist policies like segregation and voter discrimination laws, while revealing the resistance and innovation of Greenwood residents:

"Once upon a time on Black Wall Street there were dozens of restaurants and grocery stores. There were furriers, a pool hall, a bus system, and an auto shop--nearly two hundred businesses in all." page 9

The cadences of the author's prose are supported and enhanced by the illustrator's drawings which are both realistic and ethereal. Cooper achieved this through a technique all his own called oil erasure in which he first washes a surface in oil paint then kneads the paint away using an eraser. The illustrations show the bustling energy of Greenwood Avenue and its inhabitants until we get to page 17, where overshadowing darkness introduces the elevator incident that led to the false accusations against the young man, resulting in his arrest and the eventual massacre.

Weatherford speaks with the authority of one whose family members themselves have experienced racist terror in America's South. Her story also rings true given Cooper's own family history, having grown up in Tulsa hearing his grandfather finally tell the long-suppressed tale of the massacre he witnessed. The end pages of Unspeakable are created from a photograph showing how the entire community was flattened to the ground, every business, house, and institution destroyed. While these and the author's and illustrator's end notes are compelling, and while the details have been denied and, for many, forgotten, it would have been even more helpful if Weatherford had included more documentation or a list of sources to which the reader can turn to read more. 

A link in the electronic version the book leads students and educators to detailed lesson plans, videos of the author and illustrator, and more materials. While classified as being for grades 3 to 6, this book is appealing across many grade levels including through middle and even high school. It is a good launching point into deeper discussions about race in America, for comparisons with other historic events, and about the power of resistance and the hope of reconciliation.

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Image Source: Cavalier House Books

Thimmesh, Catherine. Camp Panda: Helping Cubs Return to the Wild. 2022. 64 pages. LP: $17.99, ISBN:  9780358732891. Grade level: 5-7.

Middle grade and middle school students will appreciate this inspiring comeback story of how China's Giant Panda went from a population of 23,000 to nearly wiped out in the 1990s, to 1,864 in 2022 as a result of the painstaking efforts depicted in Camp Panda. Thimmesh organizes her book clearly as shown in the Table of Contents--from a compelling prologue to the first chapter, "Pandas in Peril" which introduces how vulnerable this animal population is, to several chapters describing their unique attributes and how habitat loss is leading to their demise. It is near the end when she introduces "Camp Panda," a detailed chapter describing how robust toddlers are introduced to a controlled wild environment in the hopes they can live on their own in the true wild. Fascinatingly, human contact is kept to a minimum, and when it is unavoidable, the scientists are disguised as the real thing 

Image Source: Libby. page 26

so as not to confuse the youngsters. 

Camp Panda is written in a simple, conversational style, drawing in the reader with its passionate message of conservation and rehabilitation. The design of the book is engaging, including changes in typographic styles from the larger, bold introductory paragraphs that begin each chapter to the quotes in italics. Longish paragraphs of informative prose are broken up by side bars of light green explaining certain points of interest like the pandas' diet. The photographs, often with their own lengthy captions, expertly highlight the points Thimmesh is making in the prose. 

The book concludes with a wealth of supporting materials including links and suggestions under the helpful "What Can You Do?" section. Thimmesh does not skimp on documentation, citing a variety of sources including interviews, books, academic articles and videos, as well as highlighting the 5 experts she consulted. It would have been more interesting if these experts' side bars were scattered throughout the book, rather than exclusively at the end, to lend a more personal insight into the voices behind the chapters.

In fact, it is the voice, or point of view, that is somewhat lacking in Camp Panda. The fact that it is well-researched and makes a strong argument for changing our approach to nature and our animal friends is indisputable. But what readers might appreciate is a compelling back story--what got Thimmesh interested in the fate of these adorable creatures? She advocates expertly for the work the scientists are doing, but at the end only a few short 'about the author' lines gives us insight into her own background. Solid, authoritative sources could have been enriched with a more personal look into her own motivations for writing this impressive book.
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Image Source: Libby

Partridge, Elizabeth. Seen and Unseen: What Dorothea Lange, Toyo Miyatake, and Ansel Adams's Photographs Reveal about the Japanese American Incarceration. Illustrated by Lauren Tamaki. 2022. 132 pages. LP: $21.99, ISBN: 9781452165103. Ages: 10-14.

What is shown, what is not shown; what is told, what is left unsaid? Who gets to tell a peoples' story? Elizabeth Partridge, whose godmother was the famed American photographer Dorothea Lange, answers these questions in her book Seen and Unseen, by presenting evidence about one of this country's  egregious civil rights violation, the incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II.

Elizabeth Partridge and Lauren Tamaki worked together to produce this astonishing, ground breaking nonfiction book for young people. Every element, from Partridge's careful research and personal connection to the story to Tamaki's evocative ink with color wash illustrations interspersed with black and white photos, to the design of the pages, everything works together to compel the reader to keep turning the pages and understand how this injustice unfolded.

Seen and Unseen is organized chronologically, opening with the bombing of Pearl Harbor and showing how this precipitated the seizing of Japanese Americans' property and imprisoning them in far-flung camps. Partridge frames this history in a critical way--showing the reader how agency and voice matter. She presents the events through the eyes of three talented photographers: Lange, passionately opposed to the incarceration; Adams, eager to show the bright side of one particular camp; and Miyatake, whose clandestine photos reveal the most authentic views of life in camp prisons. In this way, the author goes beyond the straightforward presentation of a historical miscarriage of justice to an argument about the importance of asking how and by whom history is told.

This book is beautifully designed. Text, artifacts, photographs and Tamaki's illustrations work together, each demanding attention and working to reveal the truth of the incarceration. Text is presented in various typographical styles including large, bold paragraphs and handwritten labels. Photos and illustrations are cleverly intermixed such as in this page depicting Miyatake photographing a wedding in Los Angeles, mere hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and being interrupted by police to drag away Americans suspected of collaborating with Japan:

Image Source: Libby. page 13

Partridge speaks authoritatively about Lange's unease with being asked to photograph the removal and incarceration of Japanese Americans. Lange was her godmother and neighbor whose photos were given over to the U.S. government which only published a small number of what she took. Lange was ordered to avoid photographing anything controversial such as living conditions. Nevertheless, she managed to tell a story with her pictures for those astute enough to read the details such as 

Source: Libby. page 24

with this photograph. The Mochida family looks organized and compliant, but a closer look reveals the tags they were required to wear, not unlike the Stars of David Jewish citizens were forced to don in Nazi Germany.

Ansel Adams, in contrast, avoided all controversy in his photographs of the camp Manzanar.

Image Source: Libby. page 135

As seen above, Adams zoomed in to make this family's camp dwelling, really part of a long, multi-family barrack, appear to be a cozy bungalow.

It was Miyatake whose documentation got closest to the reality of life in the prison camps. Using a smuggled-in camera and a secret darkroom, he shot and developed photos that showed a grimmer, more realistic view of the forced incarceration, including shared toilets and 24-hour guarded watch towers:

Image Source: Libby. page 89. 

Partridge concludes the book with evidence of her meticulous research. Each photograph is documented along with notes from the original photographers. She provides documentation for all quotes and artifacts. There are sections explaining the importance of words (evacuation vs. forced removal, for example) and further describing the three photographers. Partridge and Tamaki conclude with interesting author and illustrator notes. 

Unlike the massacre at and destruction of Greenwood in Tulsa, the removal and incarceration of Japanese Americans on the west coast was extensively photographed. However, Partridge and Tamaki present the case that who documents a historic event, and what they choose to include or exclude, matters. This is just one of the themes librarians and other educators can pursue when using Seen and Unseen in their middle grade, middle school, and high school curricula. 

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Source Image: Libby

Maillard, Kevin Noble. Fry Bread: A Native American Family Story. Illustrated by Juana Martinez-Neal. 2019. 48 pages. LP: $18.99, ISBN: 1626727465. Ages: 3-6.

Kevin Noble Maillard's picture book presents rhythmic verses surrounded by Juana Martinez-Neal's energetic illustrations, all to celebrate a food which shows the resilience and history of Native American peoples. Each page begins with "Fry Bread is..." and goes on to let young audiences know that it is so many things: food, shape, sound, color, flavor, time, art, history, place, nation, everything, us, you. The text is simple and enchanting, and it is supplemented at the end by Maillard's notes which expand on each theme. For example, on page 8 we see that Fry Bread is Flavor,

Image Source: Libby. pages 7-8

and in the author end notes Maillard expands on this idea, explaining how the recipes and flavors of fry bread differ from region to region, from tribe to tribe.

The above pages also reveal the care Martinez-Neal takes to represent the diversity of the cooks and eaters of fry bread. It can be for everyone! Yet the author and illustrator ground this delicacy in the experiences of Indigenous people in the pages depicting "Fry Bread is History:"

Image Source: Libby. pages 11-12

"Fry Bread is History

The long walk, the stolen land

Strangers in our own world

With unknown food

We made new recipes

From what we had."

Here, Martinez-Neal's haunting blue-black crows represent the voices and memories of the past, a past that was often painful. The children listen to the tribal elders solemnly. The verse reveals that fry bread, while delicious and for all, is deeply rooted in Native American history.

Along with his references and notes, the author demonstrates his unquestionable authority to write about fry bread with his own recipe, included after the rollicking text and illustrations are at an end. Maillard's recipe, like the author himself, traces its roots to the Seminole Nation of Oklahoma. Migration of his family to Arkansas led to the unconventional inclusion of cornmeal. But fry bread, he insists, doesn't have to be a static, one-note thing. Families have adapted it to their own tastes and circumstances. Just like Native Americans, it is still here.

Curious about Poetry

 

     Image Source: Hoopla

Ada, Alma Flora and F. Isabel Compoy. Yes! We Are Latinos: Poems and Prose about the Latino Experience. Illustrated by David Diaz. Charlesbridge, 2016. 96 pages. LP: $19.87, ISBN-13: 978-1580893831. Grade Level: 5-6.

Thirteen poems form the core of this poetry collection, each one introducing the reader to a young person including "My Name is Juanita," or "My name is José Miguel," each from a different place and all Latino. The book begins with an explanation of what makes someone Latino--family origins in Latin America or the Caribbean--and the voices of the poems come from these varied geographies. These poems tell a cohesive story of a diaspora of young Latino voices all settling in North America and striving to understand, appreciate, and explain to others their culture. Each is followed by short essays which dive deeper into the themes raised in the verses.

In "My Name is Juanita. I am Mexican. I Live in New York. I am Latina," we follow Juanita through an ordinary, yet extraordinary, autumn morning. As she walks to her school in New York, Juanita remembers the always-green hills, the cobblestone streets, and the flowers of her home town in Mexico. Flowers become a metaphor for the lively, happy friend group of Rosa, Maria, Elena and Lupe, all blooming, all bright and happy, now all left behind.

The poem goes on to contrast this lively Mexican neighborhood with her cold and lonely walk to her school in America:

Finally the long sidewalk

splattered with brown leaves

brings me to the door of this new school

where my language, my sweet Mixtec,

is a secret language

that no one in this school

even suspects exists.

Juanita's well-meaning teacher speaks Spanish with her, but her home and heart language is the indigenous Mixtec, older and unrelated to Spanish. But a surprise awaits: Elena, one of her friends from home, recently migrated, has come to join her class! Finally, Juanita has someone to share memories of her home town with, and someone to speak Mixtec with. After the poem, the authors explain the indigenous roots of Latinos and the importance of indigenous languages to the diaspora.

Yes! We Are Latinos contains black and white block prints throughout to complement the poems and prose. Amongst the explanation about indigenous roots, this print depicts a meeting between the colonizers and native peoples:

Image Source: Hoopla

Told from a child's perspective, revealing the every day joys and frustrations of being an immigrant from Latin America, these poems can resonate with young readers whether they see themselves, their neighbors or their friends in them. The rich diversity of Latino Americans is presented, their nuanced cultures and heroic histories celebrated. Taken together with the explanations which accompany each poem, this collection is perfect for a middle grade and middle school library.

Image Source: Harper Collins Publishers

Brooks, Gwendolyn. Bronzeville Boys and Girls. Illustrated by Faith Ringgold. Harper Collins Publishers, 1956. 48 pages. LP: $16.99, ISBN: 9780064437721. Ages 4-8.

Timmy and Tawanda

It is a marvelous thing and all

When aunts and uncles come to call,

For when our kin arrive (all dressed,

On Sunday, in their Sunday-best)

We two are almost quite forgot!

We two are free to plan and plot.

"Timmy and Tawanda" is the third of Gwendolyn Brooks' 34 poems, each of which introduces the reader to one or more children from Chicago's Bronzeville neighborhood. Using traditional end rhyme and painting a picture of staid decorum ("all dressed, On Sunday, in their Sunday-best") juxtaposed with happy abandon (" free to plan and plot"!), this poem simply sings of the freedom of a mostly-unrestricted Sunday afternoon. All these brief, rhyming, musical, colorful poems bring a reader right to childhood, its fun and its sadnesses, through the special lens of a child. Nothing seems to have faded with time, though Brooks published Bronzeville Boys and Girls in the middle of the last century. Complementing and uplifting these bouncy poems are Faith Ringgold's bold, bright illustrations:

Image Source: author's

Here are Timmy and Tawanda and their equally excited dog, plotting, planning, kicking the ball straight toward grown kin in their Sunday best. 

The children in Brooks' poems are also thoughtful and insightful--realizing that the excitement of moving away from Bronzeville is tempered by leaving one's friends in "Maurice," that a beloved pet won't judge you when you cry in "Vern," and that hiding disappointment about a frugal Christmas from your dad is a kindness in "Otto". In these and other poems, Brooks shows a respect and empathy for her child readers and listeners. Life is not always rosy, hard times can come but also go. She ends this beautiful collection with "The Admiration of Willie," whose realization that grown ups can be okay leaves the reader with a sense of comfort:

Grown folks are wise

About tying ties

And baking cakes

and chasing aches,

Building walls

and finding balls

and making planes

and cars and trains--

And kissing children into bed

After their prayers are said.

Image Source: author's

Image Source: Hoopla

Nye, Naomi Shihab. The Flag of Childhood: Poems from the Middle East. Aladdin Paperbacks, 1998. 112 pages. LP: $8.99, ISBN: 9780689851728. Ages 8-12.

Naomi Shihab Nye compiled these 60 poems from authors who live throughout the Middle East including in Iraq, Palestine, Egypt, and Israel. First published in 1998, her view that these poems can help readers "...empathize with distant situations and sorrows and joys" is if anything, even more applicable in today's world. Poetry, she says, "gives us a deeper sense of reality than headlines and news stories ever could."

These are eclectic, evocative poems that vary in tone, length, and style. Common through most of them is a sadness, a longing for something lost, a wish to be somewhere else:

The Train of the Stars by Abdul-Raheem Saleh al-Raheem

The night is a train that passes,

Up on my house I watch it

Its eyes smile to me.

The night is a train that passes,

Carrying moons and stars

Clouds, flowers, 

Seas and rivers that run.

The night is a train that passes, 

I wish, oh, how I wish!

I could take it one day:

It would take me away, 

To see where it's going.

Oh, where's that train going?

Evaluating a poem in translation is tricky because we don't know how beautifully the sounds, the rhythm, the deeper meaning of the words might work together in the original language. But even keeping in mind what might have been lost in translation, this poem can speak to a young reader. Imagery shines through clearly: the smiling night, the moons and stars. The metaphor of night as a train evokes the movement of these celestial bodies across the sky as the night goes on. Each repetition of the title line reinforces the idea of time passing. And most urgent are the concluding lines--the author longs to take that train, take it away from their current reality.

Another short and deeply moving poem is:

My Brother by Mohammed Affif Hussaini

His hair was light-colored

He went to bed early

And woke up early

One day he quietly went away

Just like he arrived--quietly

          He was my brother.

Simple and spare, this poem says everything without any unnecessary words. Hussaini's poem radiates sadness in each line, in the repetition of "early" and "quietly", and especially in the final line. 

Unlike Ada's collection Yes! We are Latinos reviewed above, Nye's poems are compiled from many sources and she leaves them to stand alone. While they shine on their own, for young readers or anyone coming to this book with less awareness of which names and terms go with which cultures and lands, a little background for each poem, right before or after each, could be helpful. Nye doesn't have to give the reader the same detailed paragraphs as Ada does--even just a line about where each author is from, maybe a line or two about the details of their countries, could help set these poems in context. It's understandable that Nye may want to emphasize the commonalities among all the authors regardless of country, religion, or culture. She may also wish to not fix the poems in a particular time or space, beyond the broader Middle East. The title of this collection, The Flag of Childhood, itself testifies to a desire to break out of country-and-religion-specific jingoism and embrace the commonalities of childhood. However, for young readers to understand and more closely empathize with each poem, context can help.

Image Source: Hoopla

Salas, Laura Purdie. Lion of the Sky: Haiku for All Seasons. Illustrated by Mercè López. Lerner Publishing Group, 2019. 32 pages. LP: $19.99, ISBN: 978-1-5124-9809-7. Kindergarten through grade 3.

All elements work together to make this picture book of haiku poems appealing. Haiku is a Japanese form of typically unrhymed poetry of three lines. The first line has 5 syllables, the second has 7, and the final line has 5.  These short and sweet poems, one per page, are organized into sections by the seasons and each one is a riddle for example:

Image Source: author's

fire in our bellies, 

we FLICKER-FLASH in twilight--

rich meadow of stars

This poem occurs in the section on summer, and while it may not be hard for adults or older children to guess that Salas is referring to fireflies, young children will be captivated by the riddling element. Twilight, when fireflies are most active, is gorgeously evoked by López's soft illustration mixing, perhaps, pastels and water colors. The nature of their glow is perfectly captured by Salas' words as well--the "flicker flash" of their bellies. Children will listen to or read the haikus, look at the pictures, and from both be able to come up with answers to the riddles, reinforcing traditional and visual literacy.

At the end of the book, Salas explains more about Riddle-kus as she calls them, defines some terms, provides an answer key to each page, and invites young readers to make their own riddle-kus. In this way Lion of the Sky is not only a poetic treat for the eyes and ears, it provides a fun, built-in poetry lesson for teachers and storytellers.

Curious about Traditional Literature

 

Image Source: Simon & Schuster

Campoy, F. Isabel and Alma Flor Ada. Tales Our Abuelitas Told: A Hispanic Folktale Collection. Illustrated by Felipe Dávalos, Viví Escrivá, Susan Guevara and Leyla Torres. Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2006. 128 pages. LP: $19.99, ISBN13: 9780689825835. Ages 5-10.

"Through stories people share their dreams, their hopes, and the lessons they learn from life, and also their celebration of the imagination and the ingenuity of a well-told tale." Campoy and Ada welcome the reader to their collection of stories, Tales Our Abuelitas Told, with this quote about the universal charms of a well-told tale. Their compilation of stories is purposefully built around the many influences of Hispanic culture: Spain and its myriad conquerers and influencers, the subsequent colonization of the indigenous peoples of America by the Spaniards, the continual fusion of cultures as Spaniards and first nations peoples intermarried, and the further enrichment of Hispanic culture from Africans forced into enslavement. These multiple influences created multiple versions of stories that flourished and took on the uniqueness of the countries in which they were told. In this collection, the authors choose 12 stories to retell. They place each into a country-specific context, site sources extensively, and give personal accounts of how they relate to the tales. In addition, the many illustrators bring each of the stories alive through their distinctive art styles.

In "Martina Martínez and Pérez the Mouse," a story originally popular in Spain and retold in the Puerto Rican oral tradition by Ada, the illustrator Dávalos' style recalls folk art and cartoons. This humorous approach is well-suited to the absurdity of the tale:

Image Source: author's

Martina attracts several suitors, rejecting them gently in a repetitive fashion that young children will enjoy chanting along with. When she finally marries the mouse, Ratón Pérez, they are very happy until he falls into the large and delicious soup pot while she is away. Several animals sacrifice their beaks, tails, etc. to acknowledge Martina's subsequent sorrow, but it is the woman healer who actually is practical and chooses to save the mouse husband.

While adult storytellers will appreciate the introductory Welcome and the extensive, context-setting paragraphs following each story, rich with source notes, the stories themselves will appeal directly to young audiences. Their language, humor, rhythms and repetitions are captivating, helping the text flow easily from page to an oral retelling. These are indeed well-told tales.

Hamilton, Virginia. The People Could Fly: American Black Folktales. Illustrated by Leo and Diane Dillon. Alfred A. Knopf, 1985. 178 pages. LP: $24.99,  ISBN 9780394869254. Ages 10 and up.

Image Source: Alfred A. Knopf

Virginia Hamilton makes the purpose of her story collection, The People Could Fly, clear from her Introduction: "These tales were created out of sorrow. But the hearts and minds of the black people who formed them, expanded them, and passed them on to us were full of love and hope. We must look on the tales as a celebration of the human spirit."

These stories stand in joyful defiance of America's chattel slavery and the racist institutions that coexisted with and were created after slavery ended. Hamilton organizes 24 stories under headings such as "Animal Tales," "Supernatural Tales," and "Tales of Freedom." She stays as close to the phonetic dialect of the stories as possible, working to honor their authentic roots as oral retellings, urging the reader to share them out loud. She concludes each story with a discussion of its origins, relating it to traditional African literature and/or the stories told in the Americas.

For example, in the section "Carrying the Running-Aways and other Slave Tales of Freedom," Hamilton retells "The Talking Cooter." Jim meets a turtle who can not only talk, but sing and play the fiddle. The turtle complains that Jim talks too much and needs to "Run along and find your freedom place." But it's exactly this talking that frees Jim, who makes a bargain with the slaveowner that the turtle really does exist, and when Jim is proven correct, he is set free.

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While my version of The People Could Fly has only the black and white illustrations, Leo and Diane Dillons' art work still shines and complements the text. They have an almost surrealistic style that conveys the emotion and humanity of their subjects such as with Jim listening to the cooter in the above picture. They use symbolism in their art as well, as evidenced by the bird flying away to freedom in the background. These stories, these illustrations--together they achieve Hamilton's purpose of celebrating the lives of Black Americans' ancestors and their crucial contributions to our country. 

Curious about Picture Books

 

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Williams, Alicia D. The Talk. Illustrated by Briana Mukodiri Uchendu. Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2022. 40 pages. List Price $18.99, ISBN13: 9781534495296. Potential audience: 6-8 years old but can interest and generate discussion for all children up through their teens.

Image Source: Simon & Schuster

Jay takes the reader on a journey in The Talk, introducing us to his friends, family, neighborhood, and heartbreakingly, to growing up and leaving behind a carefree view of his world. From the first sentence, "Hi, I'm Jay. These are my friends..," Jay is an eager and excited ambassador, happy to show us his world. Four friends, mom and dad, grandma and grandpa--they teach and encourage him, measuring milestones like his growth with pencil marks on the wall:

Image Source: author's

Uchendu illustrates William's text, conveying these happy, everyday images at the start of the book with washes of pastels, bright colors, and a nimbus of soft lines that indicate energy and movement. The sky is the palest blue, the friends' faces are gleeful and curious--everything is lively and full of promise. The biggest worry appears to be Jay's, that he will remain a 'shrimp' and never grow up. But then, time passes and he does:

Image Source: author's

The picture supports the text: while Jay is thrilled that he's no longer a shrimp, "Mom looks sad." The reader can see her sober expression, along with the slightly darker colors and the fewer energetic lines surrounding the characters. When Jay grows up even more, losing the chubby cheeks and gaining, when he is out with his friend, the suspicious stares of wary strangers, his decision to go out in a hoodie precipitates his parents' and grandparents' decision to give him The Talk:

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No words are needed to let the reader know that Jay's loving family wants him to understand that he's done nothing wrong, but racist assumptions and their consequences can affect him anyway. Uchendo's colors are dark violet, red, black, gray. It's like injustice creates a sad, smoky fire leaving behind the bright hues and gentle lines of the previous pages, just like Jay must leave behind the innocence of childhood. It is heartbreaking.

Williams' words and Uchendo's illustrations work harmoniously to convey the contrast in the little boy's and his caregiver's concerns. Mom's anxious expression while looking at the tv news, all dark and ominous on the screen, stands in opposition to Jay's bright face and blissful, rounded features as he is surrounded by her hug. On another page, the four friends skateboard under a sunny sky, their energy clear in the angles and blurred movement of the picture, but in the foreground the judgement and anger of a couple is clear in their expressions, dark and stormy shading, and the starkness of the their outlines.  

Even with the seriousness of The Talk's themes, the reader is left with a little bit of hope and a lift near the end:

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"These are the arms that hug me close. The family that reassures me that I've done nothing wrong, and no, I'm not to blame. The eyes that say I'm the beat of their hearts; the joy of their smiles; and their brave, beautiful child."

Forsythe, Matthew. Pokko and the Drum. Illustrated by the author. Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2019. 64 pages. LP $18.99, ISBN13: 9781481480390. Potential audience: ages 4 and up.

Image Source: Simon & Schuster

Pokko and the Drum is no soothing, predictable lullaby. Think of the improvised, discordant notes of a jazz riff and you will begin to understand the atmosphere Forsythe's story and text convey. Taken alone, these notes are hard on the ears, but together they can create magic and even startled laughter. Such is this picture book--from the opening line, "The biggest mistake Pokko's parents ever made was giving her a drum"--to when her froggy parents get carried away by the Pokko's rather motley group of instrument-playing followers (including a dangerously hungry wolf), this book is...different.

Pokko's drum, unsurprisingly, is too loud to play in the house so father asks her to play outside, but not too loudly: "We're just a little frog family that lives in a mushroom, and we don't like drawing attention to ourselves." Pokko ventures into the serene forest but finds it *too* quiet and soon is beating her drum and drawing, not just attention, but a banjo playing raccoon, a trumpeting rabbit, a xylophone-wielding mouse, and a slew of other forest dwellers following her and creating chaos. It is the wolf who stands out amongst them all, for while at first he is content to march along and enjoy, he soon eats the rabbit. Pokko slips out of her deadpan expression and laser-focused drum beating long enough to berate him for this:

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"No more eating band members or you're out of the band." 

Wolves will be wolves. Forsythe's  illustrations are as amusing and slightly discomforting as his story. Watercolors are bold and autumnal, triangular shapes and jagged lines predominate, the forest foliage is drawn surreally with clashing colors and chaotically overlapping leaves and branches. One masterful example of the illustrator's subtle artistic skill are the expressions on the frog family's faces, which can change with slightest nuances of their eye shapes:

Deadpan Pokko with rounded eye

Plotting Pokko whose eye is now a wedge

Picture books, aimed toward the youngest audiences are supposed to be predictable, perhaps adding a comfort or soothing familiarity to the story that will reassure children. Pokko is neither soothing nor predictable. From the moment the wolf eats the rabbit (though, to his credit, he does apologize) to the time Pokko's parents are swept away from their cooking and reading, the reader is caught off guard. The choices of color, line, and shape all keep the reader on edge. In the end, when the father realizes Pokko is actually quite a good drummer, the reader is surprised again. Yet maybe bland predictability and comfortable plots are not what Forsythe is aiming for in Pokko and the Drum. Perhaps, like the harsh fairy tales of old, brimming with danger and plucky heroes, this story will keep children gasping with surprise and laughter and paying close attention to what the mischievous frog will do next.

Bowles, David. My Two Border Towns. Illustrated by Erika Meza. Kokila, 2021. 40 pages. LP $17.99,  ISBN 9780593111048. Potential audience: ages 4-8.

Image Source: Kokila

Every other Saturday, the little boy and his dad cross from the U.S. side of the border to the Mexican side, visiting the twin of his town for everyday errands and a special mission. Life bustles in saturated water color hues on both sides--panaderías, taco carts, paleteros--Meza's illustrations are a kaleidoscope of activity:

Image Source: author's

Unlike the hustle and bustle of both towns, having to cross a border, pay a fee, and submit their car to searches is not natural: "Dad reminds me: Coahuiltecans once lived here, before all this was Mexico--both riverbanks. Now we're two countries. We pay to cross."

Yet cross they do and the reader with them, to their favorite restorán, Tío Mateo's jewelry shop, a pharmacy, and a small store. It's on the way back that readers will discover that this family's special mission is to stop by the bridge separating the two countries and deliver medicine, water, comic books, and other supplies to the tired people camped out, waiting for a chance to enter the U.S.

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"Refugees, Dad calls them. Stuck between two countries."

Bowles story and Meza's illustrations work harmoniously to bring young readers into this boy's world that is both ordinary and special. The juxtaposition of the two border towns seems as natural as the author's  sprinkling of Spanish amongst the English text (a purely Spanish version is also available). While the politics and legalities of crossing back and forth may be fraught, this boy's transnational adventures are fun and invigorating. Meza's realistic line drawings and water color paintings are almost folk-like in their warmth and simplicity. The detailed intricacy of the pages invite children in, making this picture book something they will want to explore more closely on their own or while sitting on a caregiver's lap.

When the boy and his dad reach the bridge, the reader realizes their mission is to bring friendship and aid to the many families from the Caribbean and Central America who wait on the bridge. The refugees' situation is depicted with the same vibrant colors as the rest of the book, but Meza shows their exhaustion and anxiety too through the slump of their shoulders, the heaviness of their eyes, the bedding and clothing hanging on lines. These images fit the story's gentle lesson as evident in the generosity of the boy and his dad--these refugees are no different from other people. Only a twist of fate separates those who can go freely between the two border towns and those who must wait. Perhaps books like this will help make the dad's final line a reality: "But when they get their chance at last, we'll welcome them with open arms." 

Wang, Andrea. Watercress. Pictures by Jason Chin. Neal Porter Books, 2021. 32 pages. LP $18.99,  ISBN 9780823446247. Ages 4-8.

Image Source: Neal Porter Books

Being embarrassed by your family is perhaps a rite of passage for all children, something they endure when the insular innocence of family life gives way to the inevitable comparisons of school and friendships. For children of immigrants, the humiliation of being 'different' can be even sharper. In Watercress, Wang asks how children, growing up in a country of plenty and its counterpart, waste, can understand their parents whose frugality may stem from hunger, even starvation?

This book, bolstered by the sepia tones of Chin's illustrations, gives the reader a way to answer this question: understanding can be achieved through stories of the past. The girl's face is already grumpy as she rides through rural Ohio with her parents and brother, but it turns to an embarrassed expression when the mom urges them to stop and they all shed shoes and socks to pick watercress plants from a ditch filled with cold water. Fuming in humiliation, she prays no one she knows is in the cars speeding by. Her anger does not dissipate when they return home, in fact she refuses to eat the now-cooked watercress, equating it with her parents' other penny-pinching behaviors that separate her from non-immigrant kids: "Free is bad. Free is hand-me-down-clothes and roadside trash-heap furniture and now, dinner from a ditch." 

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Only when the mother tells her their family's story from China, where an Uncle died young from starvation during one of the country's famines, does the girl finally understand her parents' delight in foraged food:

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Compared to the brighter, lighter hues of the roadside hunt for watercress and the family's dining table, Chin portrays the mother's memories of China in washed out muddy browns. It's a memory of a sad time, and the colors reflect this sober part of Wang's story. Chin's style is realistic to the point that the reader may feel compelled to reach out and run a hand along the waving grasses and crisp leaves of corn in the fields; to dip a chopstick in the delicate cooked watercress leaves, slick with oil. Chin really understands texture. Perspective is another way the illustrator supports the story--when the girl is angry and stubbornly refusing to eat in the picture at the dinner table above, the eye goes directly to her and it's impossible to ignore her crossed arms and sour expression. In contrast, on the final page, as Wang's words reveal reconciliation, Chin bring the perspective up and we view the family from above, united:

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"Together, we eat it all and make a new memory of watercress."

Faruqi, Reem. Amira's Picture Day. Illustrated by Fahmida Azim. Holiday House, 2023. 40 pages. LP $17.99, ISBN 9780823451265. Ages 4-8.

Image Source: Holiday House

Picture day or Eid celebrations? Pink-striped dress or purple-mirrored shalwar kameez? In Faruqi's book, Amira is faced with dilemmas that reflect the pulls of her family and culture versus her classmates and school traditions. Eid festivities cannot wait--it arrives after Ramadan ends and the morning after the moon is sighted. The author slips in lessons about the holiday and Amira and her family's excitement for its arrival. Azim illustrates the contrasts between Amira's two wishes for the day:

Image Source: author's

However, while the story highlights a holiday surely full of vibrancy, Azim's accompanying illustrations fall short of conveying the details. The colors are gorgeous and close ups of Amira's mehndi and shalwar kameez stand out, however the cartoonish nature of the faces and the abstract depictions do not align with the story. Faruqi describes a procession of delicious sweets and an elaborately decorated masjid. But the sweets are drawn in uniform, rather messy blobs and the masjid pillars remain plain. White space surrounds closeups. When Amira does make it to school, and just in time for the class photos, she stands out but her classmates fade a bit, their bodies and faces depicted in rougher, insubstantial lines:

Image Source: author's

There is much to admire in both the text and the illustrations of Amira's Picture Day with its presentation of Eid in all its color and energy and the refreshing happy ending when Amira's teacher and classmates welcome her warmly. However, leaving the backgrounds plain and key scenes rushed or abstract feels like a missed opportunity.