Boldly going into board books

I suppose after my tirade about the BabyLit series of board books, I would be a hypocrite if I didn't have a dig at what can only be described as this fall's geekiest offering for "the youngest reader." Well, call me a hypocrite--and completely illogical--because I am nowhere near as offended by The Star Trek Book of Opposites as I am by "Little Miss Austen's" and "Little Master Shakespeare's" gnawable classics. Perhaps it's because my Trekkie heart skipped a beat when I saw it. I wanted to buy it.....for myself. Because it looks hysterical. I don't get the impression that there are any bogus attempts to convince parents that their babies will learn about science by plunking this book in their lab. I'm not even sure babies will learn a whole lot about Star Trek from looking at it. Or grow up to be nerds themselves. But for those of us already inhabiting that place known as space, the final frontier--what's not to love?

Anticipated Arcs: Dead End in Norvelt by Jack Gantos

My experience of Jack Gantos consists almost entirely of Rotten Ralph. I haven't read the Jack Henry books, and I have only gotten as far as borrowing Joey Pigza. It was returned unread, another victim of a hydra-esque TBR pile. I mention all this because Gantos' latest book, Dead End in Norvelt, features a character named, funnily enough, Jack Gantos. But this middle-grade story bears almost no resemblance to the one he told in his compelling YA autobiography Hole in My Life--unless you compare a summertime grounding to a prison term. So I am at a bit of a loss when reflecting how the new book compares to his previous fiction (naughty red cat aside,) and utterly flummoxed if I try to match it to his actual life story. So let's examine "Norvelt" on its own merits.

The story takes place over the course of two months in the summer of 1962. Jack Gantos is the only child of a couple who might very well become Archie and Edith Bunker when they retire. They live in a Pennsylvania town called Norvelt, a cooperative social experiment created after the Great Depression and championed by Eleanor Roosevelt, after whom the town is (re)named. Grounded almost as soon as vacation starts, Jack finds himself hired out by his mother to elderly neighbor Miss Volker, a woman who doubles as coroner and obituary writer for the local paper. But her hands are so crippled by arthritis that she needs to dip them in hot paraffin just to regain temporary dexterity. She dictates her obituaries to Jack, concluding each with a history lesson which is sometimes relevant to the deceased, but usually is just a chance to pontificate about forgetting the lessons learned from history. Add to that: a best friend whose father runs the local funeral parlor, an invasion by a group of surly Hell's Angels, constant nose-bleeds, an inexplicably loaded Japanese WWII rifle, some human-deer interaction reminiscent of The Queen, (but funnier,) a never-ending supply of Landmark Biography references, a twelve-year old who drives a car, and a retiree who rides a tricycle. That goes only some of the way towards explaining how completely off the wall this book is.

Thankfully, Gantos maintains a sense of nostalgia which allows the reader to laugh at the ensuing wackiness in the context of an era so different from today--as opposed to just being weird for weird's sake. Although I'm pretty sure there is some of that, too, since I don't know which part of the book is factual and which he completely made up. Not quite historical fiction, not quite autobiography, not quite postmortem for an America that is long-gone, Dead End in Norvelt is definitely one of the funnier and more unusual books you are likely to read.

Reviewed from an Advance Readers Copy. Dead End in Norvelt--coming your way September 13, 2011.

Travels with Dodsworth

This summer saw the release of Dodsworth in Rome, the fourth volume in the easy reader series about Dodsworth and his accidental companion, Duck. It's an amusing book in a series which consistently entertains and has the capacity to continue for many volumes yet as the pair bumbles their way across the globe.

The journey actually started, sans Duck, in a junk yard, where the underachieving Dodsworth, whose motto was "try to do as little as possible" would seek out items to sell in his thrift shop. The Pink Refrigerator, the picture book which first introduced Dodsworth, is that rare achievement: dryly funny and infinitely wise at less than 35 pages. Unlike the protagonist of David McPhail's Mole Music, who actively seeks out meaning in his life, or the lackadaisical Al in Arthur Yorink' Hey Al, who learns to find paradise close at home, Dodsworth is quite content with the routine of the hum drum existence which asks so little of him. It takes the intervention of a magical refrigerator (yes--I said magical refrigerator) to open his eyes to the wonders of life not just around him but within his own grasp. It is from these philosophical roots that the more routine hijinks of the road trip emerge.

I have great affection for the Dodsworth series. Yet while I find the books to be a cut above many written at the easy reader level, I feel that they lack something of the magic of The Pink Refrigerator. The character of Duck irritates me more than he engages me. A reread of the books reminded me that Duck gatecrashed Dodsworth's world tour, and Dodsworth is now essentially stuck with Duck until he can return him to his home and friend at Hodge's Cafe. While Duck's (mis)behaviour often precipitates the action of the books, and as a result of wild-goose chases (so to speak) gives Dodworth an opportunity to tour a given city, his inability to learn from his experiences drives me nuts. Dodsworth has essentially become the straight man in his own series, which seems a little bit unfair since he sets off at the end of The Pink Refrigerator to "find an ocean," not babysit a cooky duck.


Still, the adventures of Dodsworth and Duck have a whimsical innocence which I can only describe as Capraesque. No sooner does calamity befall them (such as when Duck makes paper airplanes out of all their Euros and launches them from the top of Eiffel Tower,) then good fortune smiles upon them (a local bakery hires them to deliver bread.) In London, Dodsworth and Duck are separated, and find themselves in a trading places scenario reminiscent of The Prince and the Pauper and concludes with a sleepover at Buckingham Palace. And in Rome, it is actually Duck who has the best line in the book: when Dodsworth explains that tourists throw coins over their shoulders into the Trevi Fountain to ensure that they return to Rome someday, Duck asks, "Why leave in the first place?"

A fair question. But leave they eventually will--once they pay back all the money Duck pinched from the Trevi Fountain. There is a big wide world to discover (I'm still hoping they make it to Boston.) And although they ferried from New York to Paris, and crossed the English Channel in a hot air balloon, Dodsworth has yet to stand before an ocean and discover if its reality lives up to his own imagination. Can he return home a fuller--and fulfilled-- individual because of his experiences? Will he be able to do more than "just enough" once he is back home with his thrift shop and returns to everyday life, whose promises will be limited only by his own definition of "limited"? These are big questions for a series aimed at emerging readers, but they are at the heart of Dodsworth's quest. So even if Duck's hijinks tend to distract Dodsworth from his original initiative, the challenge of the pink elevator--"keep exploring"--is a mandate that holds relevance for readers of any age.

On My Reading Radar: Traction Man and the Beach Odyssey

We are BIG Traction Man fans in this house, so when I saw this listed as a great summer read over at The Guardian, I got pretty excited. And for the record--absolutely NO need to be under 5 to enjoy it. Traction Man is the thinking person's Action Man (also known as GI Joe in this country.) And with his faithful side-kick Scrubbing Brush, he will be prepared for anything. I could not find a US release date for this title, but considering the success of the previous titles in this series, Traction Man is Here and Traction Man meets Turbo Dog, it can't be long before he arrives on our shores.

You can read my previous rhapsodizing about Traction Man here.

Picture Book Review: Arlington: the Story of Our Nation's Cemetery

I first visited Arlington National Cemetery on a family vacation back in the 80's. My father, a Navy man with a passion for military history, was particularly keen to take my brother and I there. He wanted to show us the grave of Audie Murphy. I was pretty impressed with the place, but what impressed me most was the behavior of my dad. A life-long smoker, he had such reverence for Arlington that he wouldn't throw his cigarette butts on the ground. He carefully stubbed each one on the bottom of his shoe and placed it in his pocket. That image has stuck with me ever since, and whenever I think of Arlington National Cemetery I think of hallowed ground.

Author and illustrator Chris Demarest has written Arlington: The Story of Our Nation's Cemetery with similar reverence. It is clear that it is a special place to him. It is also a place with a "complicated, sometimes troubled history." And when you consider that it was originally chosen as a burial location during the Civil War out of spite, 'complicated' seems the nicest way to put it. The book starts with a history of the property; it once belonged to a gentleman named George Washington Peake who built upon it Arlington House, which would eventually be inhabited by Robert E. Lee, Peake's son-in-law. The history lesson develops into an explanation of the many monuments in the cemetery and the meaning of the routines which take place there. The most well-known is the Changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown, but in reading the book one discovers that even the maintenance of the gravestones (and there are more than 300,000) is done with solemn purpose.

Demarest's illustrations capture the symmetry and precision of Arlington. And although graves feature heavily, images of tidy rows of headstones bring a regimented peace to the pictures. Arlington's dual role as a tourist attraction and a functioning cemetery is most evident in the story which Demarest retells of President Kennedy. The young president visited the cemetery in the spring of 1963 and commented on how he enjoyed spending time there, little realising that he would be buried there himself in seven month's time. It is a poignant moment in a book which expertly merges the larger framework of American history with the smaller picture of personal narratives.

Young researchers and tourists alike will find much of interest in this book. Back matter includes a timeline, bibliography, list of websites, notable individuals buried at the cemetery, and notable monuments. There is also a brief mention of Freedman's Village, a collection of houses built for Peake's slaves when the Union Army seized the property and Arlington House--more complicated history. Yet despite the routine and protocol which is part of Arlington's function, Demarest shows that it is ultimately a place of stories, because through remembrance, recognition, and visitation, it is a place of lives--specifically lives in service to one's country. He concludes with an author's note which reveals a personal connection between himself and the cemetery. His father is buried there. Like Demarest, I have my own tie to the cemetery, and it is more than just a striking memory from a past vacation. My father was a bugler at Arlington National Cemetery between November 1, 1962 and November 8, 1963. He, too, is part of the story celebrated in this outstanding and dignified book.

From Page to Screen: The Invention of Hugo Cabret

It seems ages ago that I first heard talk of Martin Scorcese adapting Brian Selznik's Caldecot winning book for the big screen. And now, come Thanksgiving, it seems that we will finally get to see it. My first question, after watching the trailer, is--what happened to the rest of the title? The invention has fallen by the wayside. It's seemingly arbitrary changes like this which always make me suspect of film adaptations of beloved books (and The Invention of Hugo Cabret is much beloved by me--it was my Book of the Year for 2007.) And truthfully, there is still a part of me which feels that a film could never live up to the book, because the real magic of the book was the unique experience of reading it. Even in 3D I don't know that there will be much unique about this film-watching experience. To be truly unique, I think the film should be silent, but that's just me. Have a look at the trailer and judge for yourself.

Books for the All-Star Break: This is the Game by Diane Shore and Jessica Alexander

There is no shortage of nostalgic baseball picture books available; just run a search for different versions of Take Me Out to the Ballgame to prove the point. This is the Game, written by Diane Shore and Jessica Alexander and illustrated by Owen Smith, is a nice addition to the genre. It reads like a cumulative tale, not so much about the history of baseball, but about the excitement which builds from moment to moment during the course of an inning, a game, a season. The book covers familiar feel-good territory: back alley games of stick ball, Cracker Jack, trading cards, listening breathlessly around a radio. It works, because the rhyming text reads effortlessly, with no clumsy rhymes to get in the way of the love of the game, or the enjoyment of the reading. A handful of historic moments get a mention, but predominately the book is about the small moments in a fan's enjoyment that bring such joy. I also liked that the book ended with the words, "Play Ball!"because to me, as a fan, those words are full of fun and promise. Which is what This is the Game is ultimately building towards. A perfect read while we wait for the All-Star break to pass and the rest of the season to commence.

You can have a look inside the book here:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a sucker is born every minute

I make it a general policy not to purposely offend readers. I even try to avoid implying that my opinion is correct and anyone who thinks otherwise is an out and out moron. But I have to confess that I am about to let loose with a full blown rant, and if you happen to disagree with me.......sorry, but I'm right.

Yesterday I read this article in Publisher's Weekly about a new series of board books that will "introduce to the youngest reader....." And let's stop right there. I hate that phrase, because to me, 'introducing to the youngest reader' really translates to 'selling to kids who aren't yet ready to read the real version of this book.' Plus, I am an admitted board book snob. I think babies should have their own books, written with their needs in mind. I don't like board book versions of established picture books, because I feel it is a disservice to both formats and a lazy way to make a buck. The board book version of The Snowy Day, for instance, irks greatly. So imagine how I feel about these:

You know, I could cope with the zombies. But this is an out and out abomination. Let's start with the titles: Little Miss Austen and Little Master Shakespeare. These authors aren't Muppet babies, you know, but the greatest writers in English literature. Show a little respect! There's interpretation, there's parody, there's watered down, and then there is out and out offensive. This begs the question "For the love of God, why?!" The creative director behind the series (and yes, there will be more) says, “We knew there was nothing like it available for the age group, and that the books would be a great introduction to perennial classics both for very small children and parents who might never have read the classics before.”

First of all, there is nothing like it for the age group because it's a stupid idea and unnecessary. Babies are not going to get a classic vibe from the books. There won't be some sort of subconscious love for masterpieces when they are older because they gnawed on the corner of Romeo and Juliet. Nor are they guaranteed a place at Harvard. Better for the parent to read the original out loud while the baby is in utero if that's the plan.

Secondly, the thought that the books might serve as an introduction to the parents is enough to make me throw my hands up in despair. Might as well let the alien invasion begin, because humanity is doomed.

Which leads me to my third gripe. This isn't about what the babies will like, unless there is a mirror attached to the back or a button to push. Let's be honest--babies could care less about Elizabeth and Darcy, and that double suicide at the end of Romeo and Juliet might be a bit much for "the youngest reader". This is about sucking parents into thinking they are doing something healthy and edifying for their babies. Of course reading to babies is healthy and edifying. So why should I care, if the babies don't? To each their own, right? But pre-sales have already passed expectations, and judging by the comments at the end of the article, people do think the books are absolutely adorable (even though I'm right and they are wrong.) Which means that I, as a librarian who likes to think of herself as open-minded and not (gulp!) judgemental, will have to buy these books. As a Janeite that galls me. As a librarian it challenges me. As a lover of the classics it makes me die a little bit inside.

To the babies, I have just this to say: accept no substitutes! Demand your concept books and save the classics for when you are old enough to appreciate them. And to the parents, this: don't kid yourself. You are not introducing your child to anything remotely resembling a masterpiece. All you are doing is perpetrating the delusion that anything can be made accessible to anyone with the right amount of tweaking and modification. It's a lie! Some things should be left as they are to be discovered when the time is right.

Lunch with a YA Trifecta: This is Teen with Libba Bray, Meg Cabot, and Maggie Stiefvater

Last Friday I was privileged to be included in a luncheon hosted by Scholastic Books and the New England Independent Booksellers Association for YA writing sensations and all around awesome-women Libba Bray, Meg Cabot, and Maggie Stiefvater. The ladies were in town to visit the Wellesley Booksmith and to promote This is Teen, Scholastic's integrated teen community initiative, which works to unite teen readers with their favorite authors and other like-minded readers, mainly via Facebook.

Speaking of Facebook, here is a stellar example of how social media can morph into face-to-face interaction. I swung this invite because of a connection I made on Twitter--an individual who then put my name forward to the woman organizing the event, who was looking for Boston based YA book bloggers. I had never met my Twitter connection, nor the individual who eventually invited me (via Facebook I might add,) but I was more than happy to go and say thank you when we all met, for the first time, on Friday. So if you take grief about your addiction to social media, just remember this--it does pay off. And sometimes, there is even cake involved!

Self-righteous, defensive rant over--back to the main event.

I cannot say enough nice things about Mses. Cabot, Bray, and Stiefvater. Getting back to all that stuff I said about social networking; there's a reason why I find it so appealing--I'm shy. Well, these ladies put me (and everyone else, too, I assume) at ease. They were approachable and--in the case of Meg Cabot, who zeroed in with an outstretched hand and firm handshake--fast-approaching. Those ladies worked the room with charm. If I've learned anything from my recent lunches with authors (wow--it felt good to type that!) it's that an author's job doesn't end once the book is finished. The amount of meeting and greeting that is involved is amazing, and they have to be just as good at the people skills as well as the writing craft.

So many books, only so many pens

After lunch, but before cake, there was the book signing. I had a teeny stack, but there were book sellers there with BOXES of books. The ladies no doubt worked off lunch just by signing them all. Still, I'm sure it's a gratifying task all the same, imagining the excited hands to which those autographed books will be delivered. I know at least one ten year old girl who was beside herself when Mummy brought her an autographed copy of Allie Finkle: Moving Day. And please allow me a fan girl moment to post this:

Lunch, books, and schmoozing finished, the grand finale was, indeed, the cake. Decorated with the jacket covers of each of the ladies' most recent book, enhanced with toys to represent key moments from each, and boasting a most delicious frosting (I think it was Cool Whip,) the honored authors graced us all with one final photo call.

They then proceeded to cut the cake. With relish.

Best of all--they served us the cake. Authors truly are versatile.

A big thank you to the folks at Scholastic and NEIBA for a slap-up lunch, fantastic bookish discourse, and a chance to hob-nob with some truly outstanding writers who just happen to be outstanding--and very fun--women, too.

Picture books for the Stanley Cup: Number Four, Bobby Orr!

Now that the Bruins have made a series of the final, I thought this was a good time to draw attention to Mike Leonetti's Number Four, Bobby Orr! It took ages for Ted Williams to get his own picture book, but this Boston sports legend got his in 2003 (any news on a Larry Bird picture book? How about Yaz--the last winner of baseball's Triple Crown? Someone get writing!) Illustrator Shayne Letain sets the triumphant tone for this book with his rendition of the iconic 1970 photo of Orr's cup winning goal. The book itself is about a young boy named Joey who loves hockey and idolizes Orr. When an injury curtails his season, Joey writes a letter to Bobby Orr, asking for advice on being a better defenseman. Joey's recovery coincides with the progression of the season, culminating with a healed Joey sitting in the Boston Garden to witness his hero make history.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Orr.jpg

There is quite a lot of information in this book about Bobby Orr and his impact on the Bruins and the city of Boston. For locals there are a number of little details which give fanish delight (such as mention of the fact that Joey is watching the Bruins on channel 38.Remember WSBK?!) Number Four, Bobby Orr! is an unashamed love letter to a hockey legend, and a fun read for Bruins fans as they face the rest of the series.