Author Archives: clausenkate

Brave Irene

by

1

brave-ireneBrave Irene

by William Steig

Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1986

A childhood favorite of mine, this book is about one girl’s determination to help her mother in the face of trouble. When Irene’s mother, a seamstress, falls sick, there is no one to take a beautiful gown to the duchess on the day of her big ball. Irene takes on the job, and bounds through whirling snow and bitter wind that taunts Irene, telling her to GO HO—WO—WOME!” After the package flies out of Irene’s arms and the dress blows away, Irene becomes buried in snow and almost gives up. But remembering her mother’s face, she leaps out of the snow and races down the hill to the duchess’s house. She sees the beautiful dress her mom made next to a tree, and is greeted by a glowing fire, a warm meal, and cheerful faces when she knocks on the duchess’s door. William Steig’s classic illustration style—with atmospheric color, bold outlining, and sketch-like detail—shines in this heartwarming story. It is notable that the text is longer than the average picture book, and so I would only use this with a well-behaved preschool storytime group. It is also significant that the story deals with some heavy, questionable circumstances. As I child, I never wondered why Irene’s mother let her go out in the freezing snowstorm, but now I do. I never worried about the implications of young Irene staying overnight in a stranger’s home, but now I do. When Irene gets buried in the snow, she asks herself, “Why not freeze to death, and let all these troubles end?” Of course, the beauty is that she finds hope in the image of her mother’s face and keeps going, but it is definitely intense material for storytime. Yet, the theme of this picture book is hope amidst chaos, and determination in a world that wants you to give up. How can we not share a book with such poignant themes with children?

Green Malt-O-Meal and Specialness, Among Other Things

by

During this time of year when I was a kid, my family was usually going nuts with activities. Dad was just getting back from choir tour, Mom was busy teaching music to her crazy kindergarteners, and us kids were somewhere doing speech, theatre, taekwondo, ballet, piano lessons, homework—or sometimes combinations of these things. It was hard to catch time for a dinner together or even a hello after play rehearsal. But Mom and Dad were a pretty great mom and dad, and they always managed to make all three of us kids feel special. They dyed malt-o-meal green on St. Patrick’s day, they slipped little notes in our lunchboxes, and on Easter, each of us got a basket with our favorite candy—Snickers for Josh, Reeses Peanut Butter Cups for Rachel, and Jelly Belly jelly beans for me. Sometimes there would be a little trail of jellybeans from the door to my bed, as if the Easter Bunny had accidentally dropped them on his way (even when I was sixteen).

Now, I’m not home anymore. I’m still their kid, but now I have a job and a school twelve hours away from them, and they aren’t by my side to make me feel special anymore. They still do, of course, it it just over the phone or in cardboard package, but it doesn’t have the same immediacy. So I find ways of discovering what’s special now on my own—through friends, through art, through music, and also, of course, through books.

The following three picturebooks are all published in 2012, and they all have something to say about being special. Sometimes specialness is far away and you have to find it. Sometimes, it’s right next to you and you don’t see it. Sometimes, it’s in an animal or in a friend or in a mysterious something that might surprise you or take a while to understand. Sometimes, it is lost or forgotten.

13414866In Lovabye Dragon, by Barbara Joosse and illustrated by Randy Cecil, a little girl longs for a dragon friend, and a dragon longs for a little girl friend. They dream about finding each other, but the poor girl becomes so sad that she cries silver tears all the way to the dragon’s cave. When the dragon follows the tears, he finds the girl in her castle, and the double-page spread is filled with light and celebration of their union. Cecil’s lovely oil paintings use diverse shades of blue to express the rich, atmospheric tone of the book, and Joosse’s sensitive text celebrates the friendship of two creatures that in every way are different, but together build something special. Though this story could be taken as fantasy, fairy tale, or some version of destiny, I take from it a sense of hope and beauty. You can be alone. You can be sad. You can be alone and sad for a long time. But sometime, somewhere, someone might find you and call you special, or you might be led down a path to find someone special. In the meantime, there’s no harm in calling yourself special. Because it’s true.

ImageEach Kindness, written by Jacqueline Woodson and illustrated by E.B. Lewis, has a more deliberate message about treating others with respect. Written in the first-person, it tells the story of a new girl coming to school. The narrator character and her friends ignore the new girl—they whisper secrets, laugh, make fun of the girl’s clothing, and refuse to play with her. Lewis’s realistic watercolor illustrations captivate the eye and change perspectives drastically on every page, as if they are begging the narrator to change her own perspective. She doesn’t, though—not until it is too late and the girl has moved away. The book ends with the young protagonist watching the water ripples come and fade, wishing she would have made the new girl feel special.

Don’t we all wish we could go back and change something we did, or make someone feel special when we didn’t? I remember being the bystander in a few instances in elementary school—not teasing, but not standing up for anyone either. My feelings of guilt were strong and palpable—I can still feel them now. So palpable, in fact, that I became a “Peer Mediator” in upper elementary school and was determined to calm fights and extinguish any bullying I saw. Now, it’s easy to see someone’s uniqueness—we are adults. It’s easy to forget the “rules” of being cool in school, and seeing people’s “special qualities” certainly wasn’t part of the being cool plan. I wish we could change that.

ImageFinally, a lovely interplay of humor and heart-warming charm harmonize in Boy + Bot, written by Ame Dyckman and illustrated by Dan Yaccarino. A young boy and a red robot meet each other in the forest one day, and instantly become friends. Trouble ensues when the two friends roll down a hill and Bot’s power switch turns off. The boy tries everything he knows to help—feeds him applesauce, reads him a story, and tucks him in to sleep. But then, when the bedroom door opens, Bot’s power switch turns on and he is frightened to see that Boy cannot be awakened! He tries everything he knows to help—bring him to his home (a mysterious tower), gives him oil, and brings in a spare battery. Bot’s inventor discovers him, the boy awakens, and the two friends are reunited. Bright colors and artistic vignettes bring out both the boldness and softness in this book, and it’s pretty fabulous to see two characters with an honest connection in just thirty-two pages. But it happens with little kids, right? Kids (I’m talking before school starts) can meet each other and instantly hold hands, then go off and play Legos. They make each other feel special all the time.

Okay, maybe by now you’re screaming at your computer—enough with the cheesiness, the sugary clichés, the specialness!

But I still dream about the green Malt-o-Meal, and I’m 28. I still love the Easter Basket with the trail of Jelly Bellys. And I still want hugs and phone calls and everything else that makes me feel special.

Because I am. And so are you. So spread it, what else is there to do?

Make Magic! Do Good!

by

make magic

Make Magic! Do Good!

by Dallas Clayton

Candlewick, 2012

We who work at the Butler Center have the privilege of opening up new packages of books nearly every day, sometimes fresh from the press. Books get stacked, fiction and non-fiction become intermingled, and it is easy for a wonderful book to get lost amidst the chaos. But then each book is picked up and entered into our system. I always look at each book as a new experience, a wonderful possibility for my next read. But then I move along because, well…it’s my job to.

Yet, sometimes the reader inside gets the best of me, and I find myself lost in a book. It is a rare occasion, because I am a very diligent worker, but sometimes a book grabs me so tightly that I have no chance of becoming free until I turn the final page. This recently happened to me here in the Butler Center with Dallas Clayton’s 2012 book of poetry titled Make Magic! Do Good!

Sometimes quiet, sometimes loud, sometimes joyful, sometimes gently sad, this book respects the child reader and understands that he or she experiences profound, deep feelings just as much as grownups. There are forty-nine poems in the collection, all illustrated in a simple, sketch-like style with vibrant colors and dynamic expression. About the artistic medium, the front matter states, “The illustrations were done in two parts positive vibes and three parts watercolor rainbow sprinkles.” This captures the whimsical, creative, playful spirit of the poetry. The silly poems, such as “Amanda the Panda” and Xavier Xing Xu” wholly encapsulate the spirited, snappy mind of a child. Clayton’s humorous illustration note does not demonstrate the incredible emotional depth several poems communicate. One of my favorites is titled “Slumber,” and it’s only four, simple lines:

You won’t know all the answers

You won’t get everything right

But once you learn you don’t have to know ‘em

You’ll sleep the best at night.

The illustration accompanying this poem is a big, pink animal, fast asleep in a bed covered in a blue and orange starred comforter, and the vast white space comforts the eye. I opened this page, experienced both text and image, and I had to experience it again. As a person who struggles with perfectionism and anxiety, this poem is the perfect mantra for peace. What a lesson to learn, and absolutely beautiful that Clayton is telling it to children.

It doesn’t stop there. Clayton’s honest poems and imaginative illustrations include topics as varied as enemies, decision-making, love, sharing, friendship, money, and the potential end of the world, and he tackles them with vibrant energy, poignant honesty, and joy. And there are some pretty darn silly ones along the way.

I haven’t been stopped like this by a book here at the Butler Center in a while, but Make Magic! Do Good! certainly shouted my name that day and echoed in my heart and mind for the days and weeks to come. In a world that we all know is filled with bad stuff—violence, sadness, sickness—it is lovely to find a book filled with message of hope, love, strength, silliness, honesty, warmth, and peace, peace, peace.

Please watch this animation based on the book, and listen to the profound poem that closes the work, the title poem of the collection, Make Magic! Do Good!

The Brother’s Grimm: Popular Folk Tales

by

brothers grimmThe Brothers Grimm: Popular Folk Tales

Newly translated by Brian Alderson, illustrated by Michael Foreman

Doubleday, 1978

This rich collection of thirty-one Grimm’s tales combines familiar stories, such as “Hansel and Gretel,” “Rapunzel,” and “Rumpelstiltskin,” with lesser-known tales like the haunting “Fitcher’s Bird” and “King Throstlebeard.” While the anthology contains no formal introduction, internal notes or citations, there is a table of contents and a list of color illustrations in the front matter. Alderson also includes detailed “Afterward” and “Notes” sections in the back matter, in which he affirms his mission for the book. He states that many English translations of Grimm, though accurate, “miss the spirit of the tales” (188), and his objective for this collection is to translate the German tales “not from the scholar’s study but from a storyteller talking to his listeners” (188). He succeeds in this goal, as the translations are clear, concise, and readable—yet they still contain anecdotes of humor, gruesome description, and evocative imagery. Alderson notes that the Brothers Grimm stories “exist in a number of forms,” and his translation “is largely based on texts which had reached [the] final form, the ninth edition of the ‘Grosse Ausgabe’” (189). When he uses previous versions of the tales in his translations, he does not make a specific source note in the internal text, but he does mention it in the “Notes”, which are a thorough three pages long. Alderson comments that himself, his illustrator, and his publisher chose the specific tales to be included, and notes that the order of arranging the tales is intentional. He states, “It was hoped that the sequence of stories would have a naturalness about it that would make it comfortable for readers to work through, if they wished, from one end to the other” (189). Michael Foreman’s dynamic illustrations enhance the collection, as each tale begins with a black-and-white thumbnail sketch and twenty-six full-color, vibrant, watercolor illustrations are scattered throughout the book. Foreman captures the tone of each tale, using muted and dark colors, shadow, and thin lines in the mysterious tales and luminous color, imaginative details, and softer lines in the lighter tales. The collection’s most remarkable feature is its potential diversity of audience. Because of the collection’s comprehensible translation, it is a great resource for the oral storyteller, but it is also a worthy selection for upper-elementary children, as the illustrations bring out the pathos of each story. Translated and illustrated by two qualified, experienced experts in children’s literature, this collection is a significant addition to the canon of folklore for children.