Elba has a big block. She's been dragging it around for a long time.
Norris dances everywhere he goes, even uphill. He is always surrounded by a happy cloud of butterflies.
Can Norris and his butterflies help ease Elba's sadness and convince her to join them on a trip to the ocean?
This tender exploration of loss illuminates how kindness, empathy, and friendship can lift our spirits and see us through many tomorrows. It will resonate with anyone who has experienced hardship or grief, from the death of a loved one or a pet, to a friend moving away, or the transition to a new home or family situation.
Sometimes what a picture book doesn’t say to the reader bears as much importance as what it does say. Or maybe it’s what a book doesn’t do. The books that people write for children reflect the times in which they are written. And for all that the world is a dark and gloomy place, I’ve been very cheered by the ways in which Americans have been willing to confront problems that previously had been sort of swept under the proverbial rugs. Take grief and depression. In the past, if you wanted to touch on this topic in a way that was pertinent to children, you had to wrap it all up in a metaphor so thick and poofy that only the most insightful of kids would have any kind of a clue what it was you were talking about. That is not the problem today. Today picture book authors practically stumble over themselves to be the first to tackle a big issue in a 32-page format. Many, sadly, are done poorly. They eschew subtlety. They don’t trust the material (or maybe they don’t trust their own writing abilities) and just spill it all out onto the page without effervescence or class or polish. Then I have to read them. I read a lot of them. They’re the books that tout the Phds and doctorates of their authors, all the while ignoring the fact that a message is more effective when the writing is the best it could be. So I sit and I wait quietly and I twiddle my thumbs. Sometimes I do this for years before the right book with the right take on a message comes my way. I know the book when I see it. This year, Maybe Tomorrow? by Agell and González is that book. An infinitely gentle take on the feelings we lug around inside of ourselves and why we don’t have to always lug them on our own.
Elba has a block. It’s large and very heavy and she drags it wherever she goes. When she meets Norris he could not be more different. Norris skips and dances and is surrounded by clouds of butterflies at all times. Norris is not encumbered by a block of any kind, but when he meets Elba he falls into step with her. After a little time, he offers to help her carry her block. When she gets tired, they sit on it together. And when she wants to talk about someone she has lost, someone that was important to her, he listens. Slowly, after some time, this helps the block to get a bit lighter. Elba says, “I’ll always have this block, you know” to which Norris replies, “Yes, maybe you will… But I will help you carry it sometimes.” Not always. Not everywhere. Just sometimes. As a friend would.
If I were a graduate student with infinite time on my hands and a plethora of resources at my fingertips, I would love to conduct a historical survey of picture books meant to guide and instruct children through difficult times. Grief is a particularly strong emotion and it can be handled in a variety of different ways. How would a book like Maybe Tomorrow? have been handled ten years ago? Twenty? Thirty even? My working theory is that in previous years this book would have ended very differently. The easy way, the common way, would have been for Norris to help Elba get rid of her block completely. I sort of lived in fear of that ending as I read, so Agell’s careful choices were key for me. Norris does not tell Elba to abandon her block (as a lot of people in the real world would). He helps her carry it but he can’t do that all the time. Honestly, the lesson of Maybe Tomorrow? isn’t all that different from another book on grief The Rabbit Listened. What Norris can do is keep Elba company and help any way that he can. He doesn’t prance about with his butterflies, insisting that she prance too. He doesn’t try to change her, though he does encourage her to join him. And then there’s the moment when the metaphor and the reality intersect. Elba confesses to Norris that she misses someone and he says he misses them too. He didn’t know them but he’s trying to share the burden of that grief with Elba. Some people would be thoroughly peeved by someone doing this, but for others it would be a key moment of empathy providing precisely what they need at the right time.
Now the very first thing I saw when I heard about this title was its cover. One glance and I instantly thought, “Ah. Moomintroll inspired. Very nice.” Only, I’m not so sure of that now. Artist Ana Ramírez González does seem to render Elba on her sturdy little hind legs in a Moomin-like way, but perhaps that’s just a coincidence. Elba is a soft, round little figure. Her facial expressions are limited primarily to her eyes and brows, which furrow regularly. I wonder to what extent author Agell had any input on González’s art. Did she specify that Elba would be a hippo-like creature? Did she say that Norris was a crocodile or alligator? And what an interesting choice for a happy creature. Usually the bunny gets designated as the unofficial picture book arbiter of joy. Having a reptile surrounded by an omnipresent smattering of butterfly hangers-on negates the inherent ootsy-cutesy factor. Was he always supposed to be scaly? Was she always supposed to be roly-poly? Or is this just a great example of what happens when text and image merge in that process of symbiosis present in the best picture books? The jury is still out.
Because maybe what’s most amazing to me is just the fact that the book even works. Think about it. This should needle me. Norris is covered in friggin’ butterflies, after all. You can just sense how a lot of Elbas in the world would react to that. I’m lugging a block and this guy over here is Mr. Butterfly Happy Day Man. Ugh! When we are teenagers there is an unspoken understanding that joy has no place in the world of seriousness. It’s only when we grow older that we understand that carefully curated joy is a balm. Only, it has to be administered by someone kind and understanding who thinks of others more than themselves. Norris isn’t trying to downplay what Elba is feeling. He’s not trying to change her, or doing that annoying thing where you tell a person with serious issues, “Lighten up! Just look at the pretty sunrise!” Instead, he’s the new friend you wish you had when you have something new and horrible to tug around.
Years ago, my husband suffered a major setback in his life. Most of our friends just acted as if it hadn’t happened. But this one person, who wasn’t even a close friend to us, looked him in the eye and said straight out, “That must have been really hard for you.” That simple statement just floored my husband. As he told me later, “No one ever said that to me. And it meant so much.” It’s this acknowledgement of grief that’s important. Kids feel emotions so keenly and are used to grown-ups discounting their feelings, particularly when it comes to sadness. So when a kid has a legitimate moment of loss, it is important to acknowledge that that loss even exists, to give the kid space to feel sad, and to offer help, if it’s wanted, however you can. These are lessons adults could probably learn (and let me tell you, I’ve recommended to The Rabbit Listened to a heck of a lot of adults over the years). When I first read this book, I didn’t make that connection. I just had to sit and think with it a while to figure out what it was trying to tell me. Maybe Tomorrow is, at its heart, about how to be a good friend. A seemingly simple lesson for a deeply complex world.
When Elba, who continually drags a large black block behind her, meets Norris in the park, the dancing green crocodile, surrounding by shimmering butterflies, loses no time in making friends. Sensing something sad in the block, he wonders whether what is in inside needs to come out. Elba isn't quite ready for that, and Norris reflects that "maybe tomorrow" she will be prepared to take that step. Then Norris invites Elba to visit the seaside with him, and as they walk along, the purple hippo lugging her block behind her, she confides in the crocodile that she misses her friend, Little Bird. Through sharing, the block grows smaller, but it will always be with her...
A lovely, lovely book, one which pairs a sensitively imagined tale of loss and healing from author Charlotte Agell with beautiful artwork from illustrator Ana Ramírez González, Maybe Tomorrow? was an absolute delight to read and peruse. I have never encountered the work of this author or illustrator before, but I will certainly be looking for more from both of them. This one reminded me a bit of Elisa Kleven's picture-books, particularly her stories about Ernst the crocodile, which is high praise. I loved the color palette used here, found Ramírez González' figures both cute and expressive, and thought the story itself was perceptive and compassionate. Recommended to anyone looking for children's stories about the loss of a friend, and the subsequent grieving process.
This was not a smart choice for me to read on the desk, especially when I have my own heavy block. But it's a good way for children (and maybe even for grownups, too) to understand grief in ourselves and in each other and how to respond compassionately and supportively to one another. Elba the Hippo shows great bravery and growth in trying to experience life even with the presence of the heavy block, and Norris the Crocodile is a supportive and understanding friend who keeps reaching out to Elba and helping her talk about her feelings. This depiction of grief might not resonate the same with everyone, but it's so valuable in showing how we can respond to grief in ourselves and in each other when we see it -- with gentleness, with cautious courage. I'm glad picture books like this exist for all of us who are struggling with grief and with being open and with connecting.
Sometimes in our lives we're the ones dragging the heavy block, and sometimes we're the ones with butterflies around our heads. Norris (with butterflies) doesn't judge Elba, he just listens and tries to understand and helps her carry the block as best he can.
MAYBE TOMORROW covers some big and important topics in an approachable way, mainly friendship and grief/depression. Elba carries around a large, heavy block wherever she goes. When the light-hearted Norris dances into her life, he tries to befriend her, talking to her about her block, and taking her on a trip to the ocean. With their friendship, her block becomes lighter and easier to carry.
What I loved: This picture book deals with a complex topic in an approachable and understandable way. While grief/depression is not so easily visualized in real life, the block presents a way for children to understand and conceptualize it. This is a great way to begin a discussion about grief/depression in their own lives and/or of that in others’ lives.
The images are lovely, spanning whole pages with lots of color and detail that will appeal to the targeted audience. The animals are both cute and brightly colored, and the butterflies that surround Norris and locations are simply lovely. All are well suited to complement the text.
With the added message about friendship being important, this book gives toddlers and early elementary school students some key actions and points for understanding. While the topic is heavy, I found the overall tone to be well-suited to the younger audience without going too far one way or the other (too heavy-handed or too light). This would be helpful for young readers to understand their own feelings or those of others in an approachable way.
Final verdict: This sweet picture book contains some big and important lessons, handled in an age-appropriate manner. Ideal for children who are dealing with grief/sadness or who know others dealing with these big feelings, it displays how friendship can help to lighten (though not get rid of) the load.
This book did such a fantastic job simplifying the concept of sadness and handling that sadness for children. Elba has a big block and it keeps her from doing things that she once had fun doing. One day she meets Norris, who has fun and is followed by butterflies wherever he goes. Norris allows Elba to take her time to talk about her block and is very patient and kind. That's just what Elba needed. It's told in simple prose and cute illustrations. I haven't seen a picture book talk about sadness quite this well.
ORPARC Library | So many excellent aspects, works for grief or depression | As a CASA, I asked for a different specific book from the Oregon Post Adoption Resource Center, to use with a very young child who has lost multiple family members. They offered additional books and activity packets, and I said I would take whatever they thought best. This was one of them, and I'm reading them all first, before I take any on a visit with the child. This one I will definitely try with the child, because it has so many useful layers. Elba misses someone who is gone, so her big heavy block can be grief, but it could just as easily be depression without external cause. Regardless of what the reader sees the block as, Norris doesn't take responsibility for it, he doesn't make her feel bad about having it, or ignore it, he doesn't act like she's weak to struggle with it, he doesn't doesn't indicate that she ought to be able to entirely eliminate it. He accepts it, he helps as and how he can, and he demonstrates that the block and the butterflies can coexist. Elba can miss Little Bird and drag her block and still enjoy the beach. Enjoying the beach is not being disloyal to the missing of Little Bird, and having Norris for a friend doesn't mean forgetting Little Bird. The book makes room for "maybe" and "sometimes" in ways that children's books often don't.
Thank goodness someone wrote this book. All of us carry burdens of loss sadness in our lives—children no less than adults. Beloved blankies are lost, friends move on, people die. Where is the book that speaks to those losses? It’s “Maybe Tomorrow?” by Charlotte Agell. I can’t imagine a child who will not connect with this picture book. In spare, simple language, Agell creates two characters to tell the story. There is Elba, whose sadness takes the form of an actual block she lugs around. And there is Norris, whose effervescent kindness takes the form of the butterflies that trail him everywhere. With a light hand, Agell shows us how a friend can make a burden feel a little lighter. Light-hearted illustrations by Ana Ramirez Gonazalez complement the writing beautifully.
So the cover looks like Lyle the Crocodile Meets a Moomin, and therefor, irresistible. So unexpected.
Everyone experiences loss. Whether we are sad about the fish who died overnight, or miss the home we used to have before the move, or we grieve the death of our most beloved family members, we have all lost something. Elba's grief is a large block, too heavy to carry. Norris arrives in a cloud of butterflies. Norris can't make Elba happy, but he can ease some of the sadness. And that is enough.
It's a lovely book and just writing this is making me teary. Obviously you can share it with a young child who is grieving, but it is also a powerful reminder of how much good we can do for those we care about who are hurting.
I adore this book by Charlotte Agell--simple, yet profound. A picture book for ALL AGES. Elba has a big black block. She can't let go of it--it's filled with sadness from something that happened to her, from someone she lost. A new friend Norris helps her to carry that block until it is somehow lighter. A perfect metaphor for helping a friend with sadness, with grief. The grief never goes away, but it's easier to carry that grief when a friend helps you with it. The language is perfect and makes the reader pause to absorb the story. The colorful, butterfly-filled illustrations by Ramirez Gonzalez are the perfect counterbalance to what could seem like a sad story. Beautiful! Bravo! A book with the power to change readers!
Elba has a block. A big, heavy block. All she does is sit with it in the park, even though it's not very fun. Norris finds her and befriends her. First day he simply talks with her. The second day he spends time with her and has tea, right on her block. On the third day he wants to take her to the ocean. Elba says her block is too heavy. Norris offers to help her carry it, along with his butterfly friends. As they walk they spend some time talking and some time not talking. On the long journey Elba begins to share her feelings about her friend who is now gone. Norris is a wonderful, empathetic listener. They enjoy a day at the ocean, even when some of the butterflies fly away forever. "Sometimes we have to let things go." By the end of the day the block is smaller and lighter, much to Elba's relief. They discuss that she will always have the block, and that he will sometimes help her carry it.
ALL THE TEARS. The loveliest book I've ever read about loss, sadness, and empathy. Equally important for those who are struggling and those who want to help people who are struggling.
I loved this book! What a beautiful way to help children understand grief, sadness, depression - the block really can signify many of those things. I went into this book having no idea what it was about and, of course, I was crying at the end. So grab your Kleenex and this book - it's definitely worth a read or many reads!
I cried at the public book store. Futon with folded feet. For anyone with a difficult relationship with grief (is that not everyone?) this book helped me give grace to myself, as if I were the child (am I not the child?)
Wow. This is a beautiful story of Elba, who has been carrying around a big, heavy block for a very long time. Then she meets Norris. Norris befriends Elba and tries to understand her block.
I teared up. This is such a stunningly beautiful story. The illustrations are wonderful. But the story? Children will get the metaphor. Buy the book. At the very least, read it.
This book is so lovely, and it really portrays grief and loss in an effective, simple and moving way. The art is always gorgeous - warm and vibrant and so cute.
During a slow day at work, I picked up Maybe Tomorrow? and started to skim-read. I was first enamored by the wonderful illustrations, but the story was what captivated me - and my fellow coworkers. Zach, Amir, and I all whole-heartedly recommend Maybe Tomorrow? for its accurate and validating portrayal of grief and depression. A must read!!
Elba has been carrying around a big block for a while, its heavy and sometimes makes it hard for her to do things. Her new friend Norris does not have a block but he'd like to help Elba with hers.
A lovely picture book about how the people in your life can help you with grief. The pictures are charming and the dialogue is great.
I loved this book. I got it out of the library to read to my 2 YO daughter (I was drawn to the illustrations) and didn’t know what it was about when I started reading it to her. I figured it out pretty quickly and having recently experienced loss myself, was crying by the end of it. Powerful and beautiful. Also perfectly illustrated.❤️ I will be purchasing this book for our at home library.