Blog Tour: Oh No, George! by Chris Haughton

"Freedom is secured not by the fulfilling of one's desires but by the removal of desire.....No man is free who is not master of himself."

So says Epictetus, the Stoic Greek philosopher. But try telling that to a dog. A playful, rambunctious dog, who says he will be good--who hopes to be good! But who just can't help himself when tempted with cake, Cat, and dirt.

Author and illustrator Chris Haughton has followed up the quietly reassuring Little Owl Lost with this slightly more frenzied offering about George, a dog who, when faced with temptation gives in wholeheartedly. The story reads like a cumulative tale: Harry (not a dog) is going out, and he has commanded George to be good. George agrees, promising to not just be good but to be "very good". Yet George seems aware of his limitations, because Harry is no sooner out the door than George has gone from "I'll be very good," to, "I hope I'll be good." Each temptation is met against a serene backdrop of white space, as if reduced to a single, focused moment as dog eyes cake/Cat/dirt. "What will George do?" the narrator asks. The turn of the page, the assault of neon orange, and the words, "Oh no, George!" says it all. Harry eventually comes home, and George must face what he has done.

The charm of the book is that the reader knows what's coming, but it's still funny. The delicious anticipation of answering each "What will George do?" with a turn of the page to reveal--oh no!--a big mess, never gets old. Which is also what makes the ending so rewarding for the reader (more about that in the author interview.)  Haughton's use of bright orange each time George gives in to temptation is a wonderful way to visualize the madness which must take hold of this poor dog when he tries to be good but just can't make it.

The story ends with a cliffhanger, of sorts, but the back cover is, I think, the true conclusion. It is a picture of George, the recipient of a group hug from Harry and Cat. George is naughty. George is weak. But George is also loved. It's a wonderfully reassuring way to end the book, particularly for children who might very well see themselves in George.

It has been my pleasure to kick off the blog tour for Oh No, George. Be sure to visit the book's other stops in the US, the UK, Australia, and New Zealand.

14th	UK	Playing by the Book
15th	NZ	Christ Church Kids
16th	UK	Wam Bahm
19th	US	There’s a Book
20th	AUS	My Little Bookcase
21st	US	Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast
22nd	UK	Being a Mummy
23rd	AUS	The Book Chook

As part of the tour, Chris took the time to answer some questions about Oh No, George!

Chris Haught

NJFK: The title Oh No, George! really sets the tone of the book from the very beginning; a sense of inevitable mishap despite good intentions. And it is easy to see from the repetition of the phrase within the story why it makes a good title. But I thought the book could have also been called What Will George Do? based on the number of times George is faced with temptation, and the reader is asked to predict his response (particularly at the end.) Could you tell a bit about how you settled on the book's title?

CH: Yes! That was the other title that I was thinking of using. The very reasons you describe are what I liked about "Oh No, George!" The inevitable disaster combined with the worried face makes a more interesting image and picture in the mind. ‘What will George do?’ probably describes the book better but just didn’t seem to have as much comedy.

NJFK: I'm not a dog owner, but I am a parent, and I remember a time when my toddler's behaviour was not unlike George's. How intentional was the connection between dog and child when you were writing the book? Or did you just set out to write a funny book about a dog, and any similarity to childlike behaviour is mere serendipity?

CH: I set out to just write a simple funny story that is hopefully easy to relate to. When we can see George’s thought process weighing up whether he should eat the cake I think its something we can all empathise with whether you are a toddler or an adult. It seemed funnier to have that dilemma through the eyes and thoughts of a dog than a child or human. It’s true though that the things he enjoys doing and his level of self-control are probably about similar to a toddler’s. I think that helps give him his charm, he isn’t a complicated dog!

NJFK: Can you explain a little bit about how you created the illustrations? How do pencil and digital media work together?

CH: My drawings are quite rough and sketchy when I scan them in. What I am looking for in the sketch is a good expression or pose and I often find that the rougher and quicker it is made the more expressive it is. I colour and tweak the sketch and add the details on the computer while trying to retain the expressiveness of the original drawing.

NJFK: I love the quote by Epictetus at the beginning of the book. I went back and checked, and there is also a quote from Robinson Crusoe at the beginning of your previous picture book, Little Owl Lost. In each case the literary reference brings a sense of gravitas to what might otherwise be viewed as just a "simple" picture book story. Where did you get the idea to include these references? And were they in any way starting points for your stories (because we know that picture books are never merely "simple"!)

CH: They weren’t starting points, I came up with them after I came up with the stories in both cases. I was looking for ways to add something more to Little Owl Lost, a little epigraph or something to add a little more meaning. It was a friend that suggested looking at Crusoe. I looked around and found a great line that basically says ‘you don’t know what you’ve got until its gone’ but of course in great 18th Century English, I just liked the thought of putting an eloquent epigraph from Defoe alongside my little story about an owl falling out of a tree. They are so different but whether you are Robinson Crusoe or an owl who has fallen out of his nest its probably true to say you don’t appreciate what you’ve got until it’s gone.


For George I originally wanted to quote something from ‘the difficulty of being good’ by Gurcharan Das or from Buddhism about control of one’s mind but eventually settled on that one from the stoic philosopher Epictetus. I like the quotes and it’s something I want to continue in future books.

NJFK: At the end of the book you give the reader one more chance to predict what George does, but you don't reveal the answer. Do you know if he dug through the trash and just aren't saying, or are you giving the reader the opportunity to continue the story?

CH: I didn’t want to finish it. It would be too simple (and dishonest!) to have him be good at the end and too much of an easy gag to have him dive into the rubbish. The ending is neither and so it leaves everyone wondering what happens next. I was unsure about leaving it open but my sister who is a teacher of very young children loved the idea that it is left open so that afterwards they can have a class discussion. In the readings I have done we have great fun after the story deciding what George will do.

Personally I think he probably jumped in the rubbish. Sometimes there are things at the very bottom of the rubbish bin that smell so good it’s hard not have a little rummage!

NJFK: Which picture book illustrators do you particularly admire or whose work you especially enjoy?

CH: I like Leo Lionni for his simplicity, whenever I feel I’m overcomplicating something I will look at some of his books and see how it can be done more simply. I really love Kitty Crowther and Beatrice Alemagna's work for their drawn details and patterns. I love the humour of Tom Gauld, Neal Layton and Ed Vere. Many of my favourite illustrators are French; Chamo, Marc Boutavant, Olivier Tallec. There are so many nice young books for the very young published with Thierry Magnier and editions memo in France:
http://www.editions-thierry-magnier.com/
http://www.editions-memo.fr/

NJFK: Are there any authors you would like to work with, or do you prefer illustrating your own work?

CH: I think I would prefer to keep writing my own books. I’d feel uncomfortable working with a writer on a picture book because the process I have found to work for me involves working with the text and images at the same time and it’s very back and forth. I can’t really think of another way of really making it work for me. I think I would drive anyone else involved crazy!

Win me!

A big thank you to Chris Haughton for taking the time to answer my questions, and also to the folks at Candlewick for providing me with a copy of the book to preview. As one last special bonus, I am pleased to offer a signed print from Oh No, George! (as seen above.) To be entered in the give away, all you have to do is leave a comment or share this post via twitter or facebook (and make sure you let me know about it!)

Update: Congratulations to Carol Rasco, the winner of the Chris Haughton print! 

Stop the madness!

I don't read many "grown-up" books, partially through choice and partially through career necessity. But when I do pick up a book for an audience older than 12, I have been lucky in reading some real winners. One such book was The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein, which is definitely one of my favorite books of the last five years--for any age. Today I saw in a publisher's catalog that a kids adaptation of the novel is coming out in May. Publisher's catalog--meet the bottom of my shoe as I stomp upon you in frustration.

I am already on record griping about children's books for older readers that are adapted for kids that are still too young to read them. And I'm not particularly keen about the Great Illustrated Classics series, either, although I understand that they have worth for adult ESL readers, for example. But this trend of taking best-selling books written for adults and manhandling them somehow so that kids can read them has GOT TO STOP! To me it's no different then dressing kids like mini-adults. Three Cups of Tea was not only converted into a middle-grade book, but a picture book as well. What's wrong with leaving it as a book for adults that kids can read when they are ready to?

With the exception of Dewey, which actually benefited from the conversion for younger audiences (the publishers removed references to all the problems in author Myron's personal life and focused on the cat, which surely is all anyone was interested in anyway,) I can't think of a single title where this trend seems motivated by anything other than filthy lucre. The Art of Racing in the Rain seems particularly ill suited for the jump to middle grade readers for a number of reasons. First: it's sad. Second: the plot hinges on a wrongful sexual harassment suit against the protagonist. Third: the subtitle of the children's version is "my life as a dog," yet the whole point of the book is Enzo--the dog's--quest for humanity. Who thought this was necessary or a good idea? This was such a rewarding book to read as it was originally written, and I can't imagine that anyone who truly loved it would want to give their child a bastardized version so that they can get a "feel" for it. An unsuspecting reader who picks up the kiddie version will think it's just a sweet story about a dog and his family, and that does such a disservice to the original. Enzo was never striving for this.

Picture Books for Older Readers: Snook Alone

In my continued attempt to keep this blog organized, I thought I would introduce a new segment to feature picture books written for an older audience; let's say for readers from 9 to 99. These are books written for the reader who can appreciate sophisticated vocabulary, a well-turned phrase, and a story complex enough for a chapter book. I'll try to make this a weekly feature, but no promises! I do, however, promise fabulous books.

First up is Snook Alone, written by poet Marilyn Nelson (author of A Wreath for Emmet Till,) and illustrated by Timothy Basil Ering (who also illustrated The Tale of Desperaux.) The story is deceptively simple: Snook is the dog of Abba Jacob, a contemplative monk. When Snook is separated from Abba Jacob during a storm, he has lots of time to investigate the island on which he has been abandoned until his master comes back to fetch him. But that summary is merely the scratch on the surface.

When I first read this book, I was reminded of Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell, mainly because of the survival element. Snook learns how to find water and fish safely (out of the reach of sharks,) tries to defend his bed against a rather fearsome crab, and spends a good deal of time exploring the island and marking trees "which no dog on earth but he had ever marked."  But when I reread Snook, aloud to my daughter, I was reminded of Absent in the Spring by Mary Westmacott (who was actually Agatha Christie trying her hand at psychologically driven character pieces.) Absent in the Spring tells the story of a fairly shallow woman who finds herself isolated for a few days with no company but her own, and nothing to do but think. Which is kind of what happens to Snook. It's interesting that it took reading the book aloud for me to hear the different silences in the story. For that is where the action of the book takes place, in the silent moments, first at the hermitage where Snook and Abba Jacob live, and then on the island, where Snook is left to wait. Nelson describes life at the hermitage as "a striped flag/of silence, work, food, silence, work, food." On the island the silence is initially described as black, empty, and lonely. But eventually, the isolation of the island is a way of communing with Abba Jacob: "Snook sat still enough/to find the shared silence/of Abba Jacob's chapel/under the rhythmic surge of surf."

In an interview with School Library Journal, Nelson talks about Snook Alone and compares longing to prayer. Snook's longing to be reunited with Abba Jacob is evidence of his spiritual growth but written in proportion to the fact that Snook is, in fact, a dog. Nelson masterfully avoids anthropomorphizing the story with such eloquent phrases as, "In the morning /there were only faint sips of his friend's scent/left for Snook to drink in here and there." The realistic illustrations by Ering also go a long way towards keeping the story honest and empathetic without distilling the impact of the text with cutesy pictures. Domineering landscape portraits drive home the point of a tiny dog against the cathedral of sea and sky. But smaller spot illustrations on those same beaches present a more intimate look at Snook and the way his experience is changing him.

When the "good ending" comes (and it does!) it is a well deserved ending for Snook, Abba Jacob, and the reader. For while there is never any evidence of despair on Snook's part, and the separation was not as long as it probably felt to Snook (and no doubt Abba Jacob,) the lessons of silence--compassion, patience, serenity, joy--are best utilized when the period of silence ends.

Rave Review: Funny Lunch by David Catrow

Max Spaniel, the star of Dinosaur Hunt, is back for a second installment in this chaotically funny series from Scholastic. Kids might think that they are reading a book about a dog, but, as Max will tell you himself, he is not a dog. He is a chef. A great chef! Observant readers who paid attention to the title page might question Max's culinary credentials, but hey--a chef is nothing without his ego. And judging from this story, if it is representative of every day at Max's Diner, then who's to say that he is not great? He placates demanding customers, provides entertainment between courses, and even handles a tricky order when his own resources fail him. Max is indeed, some sort of special chef.

Plot details aside, Funny Lunch achieves what all early reader titles aim for--a defined story with minimal text that is fun to read while also challenging developing readers. Books that do this well are heavily reliant on the illustrations, which often set the tone for the story as well as fill in the narrative blanks for the reader. David Catrow's frenetic watercolors convey Max's energy in a way that can only be described as, well, doggish (sorry Max!) He rolls, pats, and tosses; he sings, dances, and performs tricks (of the magic variety;) he mixes and bakes. In fact, Max is non-stop from the moment he bounces out of bed in the morning, till the final page, when he and his tabby cat side-kick have a well-deserved pizza party. (I would like to say this about the tabby-cat sidekick--more please! Slightly imposed upon, more roly-poly than sleekly feline, and 100% devoted to Max, he is just as much of a visual treat as our hero.)

Writer and illustrator David Catrow pays homage to a couple of well-known easy reader classics in Funny Lunch, which simply adds to the fun of this title.  As Max gets ready to go to the diner, he has to choose just the right hat. His modeling and subsequent rejection of various headgear--until finally settling on just the right one--is straight out of Old Hat, New Hat by Stan and Jan Berenstain (Catrow has even left a visual reference for sharp eyed readers to discover.) And Max's literal interpretation of some of his customers' orders (a dog who orders chili is bundled up in hat, glove, and scarf; a request for a hot dog results in an overheated pooch in front of a fan,) is reminiscent of none other than the queen of literalism herself, Amelia Bedelia. If readers meet Max having already encountered these other titles, it will increase their delight in this book, as well as provide a canonical context within which to enjoy it.

With it's lovable protagonist, humorous plot, and delightful messiness, Funny Lunch is set to build upon the appeal of Dinosaur Hunt. You can read more about Max and his adventures in cooking here. And be sure to check out the official book trailer, which incorporates much of the original artwork.

(Thank you to Scholastic for providing me with a copy of the book to preview.)

 

Book of the Week--Ivan the Terrier

I love a story that's fun just for the fun of it. And that is a great way to describe Peter Catalanotto's Ivan the Terrier. Bringing new meaning to the term "fractured" fairytale, the energetic Ivan manages to break up every attempt by the author to tell a simple, straightforward tale. Muted but lively watercolor and gouache illustrations aid in the mayhem created by Ivan (the demise of the gingerbread boy is worth the price of admission alone.) This one is for dog lover everywhere!

Book of the Week--Bow Wow Bugs a Bug

I have not intentionally chosen another picture book as Book of the Week. Nor, to be more specific, have I chosen another wordless picture book to be Book of the Week. That was just a fluke. Peter Collington's The Tooth Fairy was selected last week to commemorate the loss of my daughter's first tooth. It just so happens that ever since we snatched Bow Wow Bugs a Bug (Newgarden, Mark and Megan Montague Cash) from our local library's stacks, my daughter has insisted on "reading" it every night. I have tried wordless picture books on her before, with little success. I don't know if she feels ripped off because there are no words or what, but for whatever reason, the illustrations were never enough to spark her imagination. Not so with Bow Wow--and she's not even a dog person! Each night we have taken turns making up the story to go along with the--truly daft--illustrations. The story is simple enough--a terrier is perturbed by a speck of a bug and follows him around town. My favorite bit is when the terrier comes face to face with an identical terrier sniffing down an identical speck of a bug. The two dogs take part in a mirroring montage straight out of Duck Soup. It's a sly bit of cultural knowledge slipped into a children's book: funny for the kids, a wonderful tip-of-the-hat for Marx Brothers buffs. See? Not just for kids!