City of Emeralds

This St. Patrick's day I find myself in the City of Emeralds. I wish I could say that I was traveling through Ireland, but if not Ireland than the Emerald City of OZ will have to do. I hope the Irish will not mind this post about an American author on their celebrated day. But as I see it, St. Patrick did more than send snakes away, he cherished, wrote, and recorded stories.

For the last month I have been--slowly--reading a biography on the life of L.Frank Baum (L. Frank Baum Creator of OZ: A Biography by Katharine M. Rogers) As I read about his successes and failures (he didn't find his true calling as a children's author until age 40--there may be hope for me yet), I was intrigued to find a man who created--without knowing it--an American classic.

Many of us may think we know the story by heart, because of our viewing of the MGM vibrant colored film. Judy Garland, and her farm girl pigtails, are iconic. But Dorothy and her story goes so much further than one film. OZ has been adapted and embedded within our culture to an extent that the original story has been shelved away, and yet we still understand the phrase, "There's no place like home," or "We're not in Kansas anymore."

So it is, that I took the book off the shelf again. And as I traipse through OZ with Dorothy, the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion, I find myself reminded of the great land Baum created. A land that was structured after America. And I wonder what his thoughts were in 1900? For he states the story was written "merely to please."

Please it has, and yet--as any scholar of tales will tell you--there was a purpose. A moral. A value placed upon this land and the characters. Dorothy's quest is like so many of ours, we are all constantly trying to find our way back home from the cyclones of life that so easily sweep us off our feet. And if I have learned anything from her trek (and L. Frank Baum's story), it is to keep my head high, think things through clearly, allow friends to help, and never let someone tell you things can't be done (also, it doesn't hurt to have a pair of magical-silver shoes).

"Don't Tell the Grown-Ups:"

Lets make it clear, children's literature has provided an outlet for revolutionary acts, conducted in silence and behind closed doors, for years. Hidden under the adults nose, authors continue to sneak progress and change by the masked veil that the words in their novels are "just for kids."

In any academic field, there must be debate. And one of the most enjoyable experiences I have is delving deeper into the genre of children's literature. This does include reading new novels, but it also means hearing the debate. Back in January of 2010, I posted that I had yet to enter an academic course taught on children's literature that taught, "how a book within [this genre] becomes part of the readers philosophy and view of...the culture they are submersed." (old post entitled "Jump")

Though I have still not entered such a class. I know that they do exist. And as I wait for this opportunity, I have begun to delve into the scholarly texts written on my favorite topic of discussion.

This Christmas I received the wonderful gift of one such book: "Don't Tell the Grown-Ups: The Subversive Power of Children's Literature" by Alison Lurie. I quickly began devouring all the information this author had to provide. Written dominantly on British authors within children's literature, Lurie marks revolutionary acts within classic books and the decisive reasoning by authors for writing within the genre.

Lurie's own writing style is accessible and compelling. Providing first an introductory review of children's literature and its history, she continues the text by breaking down individual authors and their stories use within culture. One of her key statements is that we must keep in touch with children. We must read their books, and listen to their rhymes in order to understand, "what has been censored from culture in the past," and to know "what our kids are really up to today." (p. 15)

But most importantly, by reading children's literature we are provided "a way of understanding and renewing our own childhood." (p. 204)

Further Children's Literature References:
"The Child That Books Built: A Life in Reading" by Francis Spufford
"Sticks and Stones: The Troublesome Success of Children's Literature from Slovenly Peter to Harry Potter" by Jack Zipes
"Children's Literature" by Peter Hunt

Oh Ida B.

Can you remember being eight or nine? It was that time when so many things ran through your head; the time you knew when to tell your parents things and when you were supposed to keep quiet and listen; and the world was truly your oyster.

And then one day you grew up. On Thursday you're jumping out the second story window onto the pile of stuffed animals you tossed down to cushion your fall. Then Friday, your scared of elevators, hoping with all hope not to plummet to the ground. Yet every now and then there's that voice in back of your head (long forgotten) whispering to you how you used to love to fly.

Well, this voice, that so often whispers to me in the night, must still be ringing strong in the mind of Katherine Hannigan. With the simple poetic style of writing from a nine-year-old's mind, Katherine Hannigan made me laugh, cry, think, and breathe a sigh of relief while reading "Ida B. ... and Her Plans to Maximize Fun, Avoid Disaster, and (Possibly) Save the World." (I mean really, who could resist such a title).

This novel discusses environmental issues, health, public and home education, as well as the fabulous nature or the creative, ah inspiring, resourceful character Ida B. Your able to sit down at a coffee shop and finish this story in a mere few hours, if you'd like. And the story will transport you to the days on the playground, the days you knew trees could dance and talk, and most importantly, the days when a person listening to your voice--truly listening--was all you needed to be connected and rooted in your true self.

So take the time to talk with Ida B., making sure to call her Ida B. not Ida when you ask her to play a round of dodgeball in life. And remember her words, "... sometimes, when you haven't talked with a friend for awhile, even if it's strange and stiff and you don't quite know what to say, it can still feel better than ever." (p. 227)

Thankful for the Picture Book

You may have been wondering if I abandoned my mission to save the picture book. My last post on this mission was back in mid October. The mission is still on, but with every mission there is a process. As this month is dedicated to being thankful for all the various things in our lives, I have decided to give thanks to the picture book. My thanks is for all the times I sat by our bookshelves as a kid and entered the wonderful world of story by flipping a book's pages and seeing illustrations spring from the page. Each image sparked new ideas, or made me laugh, or just simply delighted my eyes.

Today I highlight the wonderful and talented Chris Van Allsburg. I remember sitting up late in the night, starring out my December frosted window, in that house I called the log cabin, waiting to hear the train whistle blow and hope that I would be asked to ride The Polar Express. I remember the black and white sketches from Jumanji that colored the animal kingdom and my imagination at the same time.

But my favorite of his work came later in life when I found The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, while working at Barnes & Noble. What caught my eye is the multiple and complex stories the book tells without a linear written story. One simple sentence, placed next to an illustration, is all it took for my mind to enter the wonderful world many dub Wonderland.

It was a book that sparked my interests and creativity. It was a book that made me look at the images and tell my own story, full with beginning, middle and end. It was a book that made me look at it again, and again, and again.

Every time I view this book, I find new stories within familiar illustrations. My favorite of the illustrations being the fifth entitled: Another Place, Another Time. The one sentence provided reads, "If there was an answer, he'd find it there." With the wind blowing in the sail, Chris Van Allsburg's sentence depicts my belief in story. For truly we find our answers in our tales. Thank you Chris Van Allsburg for your art and the spark it passes down. And thank you to the picture book and all the tales drawn.

I ask you to share your favorite picture books here as well. No matter what country you are from, I know there were picture books that shaped your childhood, and in turn made you see the world as you do now. Whether you share them with me or a friend, it's time for us to give thanks to our beloved illustrators and authors.

Wickedness with the master Ray Bradbury

I usually have one of four reading experiences:

1. I pick up a book and quickly plow through to pass the time.
2. I pick up a book, read a few chapters, put it down then pick it up again just because I am obsessive about knowing what happens in a story--whether I like it or not.
3. I pick up a book, become so absorbed that I read until I'm done not even stopping to eat.
4. I pick up a book and become so mesmerized by the story and magnificent writing that I begin to read it aloud. I put down the book not because I am borrowed or tired, but because I want to savor every last word written and I don't want the book to end.

Its a treasure when experience 4 appears in my life. And with Ray Bradbury, I found myself hypnotized by his words yet again as I tasted fall dance on the air.

This October I needed a little scare. When I was young I  had my first ever slumber party, complete with scary movies, include the film "Something Wicked This Way Comes." I figured why not give the book a try and see if the words could spark like lightning this Halloween season. And let me just say, Bradbury's words didn't disappoint. They danced and glowed around me as I watched the leaves change and fall in front of me. Early into the book, sitting outside at my frequented coffee shop, I began to read the book aloud (not caring who listened near me) for this book is one that cries to be heard.

The sound quality alone would have been enough for me to enjoy this read, but of course Bradbury doesn't stop there. For truly this book is a coming of age story, but not merely of the child, but the adult. It is a story of father and son, son and father. It is a story about change, that change that can't be stopped or pushed to arrive early. It is a story about life and our yearning to not merely ride the merry-go-round in circles, but gallop, jump, and dance across all of life's adventures. And it is a story written in cunning prose that will make your heart quicken. Its fitting that Bradbury dedicated this work to none other than Gene Kelly.

Bradbury's descriptions are profound. My favorite illusion in this book is when he describes the library, "This was a factory of spices from far countries." (p.13) And that is truly what each of Bradbury's books are, a unique spice/flavor that transports you to forgotten times or awakens you to the taste at hand.

A Mission and A New Look

I am on a mission!

"What is this mission?" you ask--

SAVE THE PICTURE BOOK

After reading the New York Times's article this October discussing the drastic decline in picture book publishing, and parents strongly urging their children to only read chapter books, I found myself flashing back to my past.

Reflecting back to all those times I scanned the shelves at my home, sat on the floor and flipped the pages to view illustration after illustration, I wondered who I would have been without "The Gorilla Did It," "Where the Wild Things Are," "The Polar Express," or "Goodnight Moon."

With the pictures on the pages I created my own stories; I saw my room become a forest, I waited late in the evening to hear the trains whistle outside my own frosted window, and in the evenings now--with the light gone--I whisper "Good night mittens and good night kittens..."

So to hear parents are saying, "My kid doesn't need books with pictures anymore." I have to ask what pictures they are creating for their own lives?

Which brings me to my mission to save the picture book. If you would like to help me on this mission, the first step is to share.

Take a fresh look at the picture book. Go to a bookstore, library, or shelf and pick a picture book up. Go ahead read it aloud and let the images impress your eyes. Next take the time to share the title of the picture book you read in the comment box below.

More to come later.

Web Spinning

If you have ever heard the storyteller Carmen Deedy tell the story--live--of her first encounter with a librarian, than you'll understand why I picked up "Charlotte's Web."

It's interesting I never read this book in my youth, considering it holds a key line that my family and friends find vital in knowing me: "The quickest way to spoil a friendship is to wake somebody up in the morning before he [or she, in my case] is ready."(p. 35) And as such I found myself drawn to Charlotte's character.

I don't know what I was thinking I would find in the old hard cover book, which had my sisters name scrawled delicately in crayon as only a child can do. But I set off on an adventure with the intent to save Wilbur, and instead found myself entranced by the life (or web) I've been spinning for myself.

For the past while now, I have felt as though I have just been hanging on. Hanging by a thread, as they say. I have been aching for those days of youth when the choices were merely who you would play with that day and not which bill can wait to be paid. And so I found my response surprising when I read the line, "The world is a wonderful place when your young."(p. 18) I thought to myself, 'yes it was, but it most certainly still is.' And as I read along, Charlotte began to trim back her web to make room for the words that would show the world how an ordinary pig named Wilbur is some-terrific-humble pig. With each new word Charlotte created, I began feeling as though I could see through the web I've been casting around myself.

Sometimes we just need a new narrative for ourselves (as my mom would say). It's as easy as changing three little words: bored, tired, and frustrated become excited, poised and adventurous. So my new narrative is not Wilbur's, but Charlotte's children began building my web to read: Denver is excited, poised, and drawn to the adventurous day.

What does your narrative say?