Children's Books discussion
Poetry
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Poetry in Picture Books
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Author Lynn Joseph hails from Trinidad and her 1990 picture book Coconut Kind of Day: Island Poems is basically a collection of thirteen pieces of sweetly expressive, lyrically singing, nostalgically enchanting and also very personal verses that portray a child's life in Trinidad (and probably as such Joseph's own), where the sound and rhythm of steel drums, taking baths in the ocean, arriving a bit late for school due to one's household chores and the sight of mothers going to the market with their wicker baskets are natural and everyday occurrences, and where everything is flowing and also delightfully rather laid back and never taken all too seriously.
Showing both work and play and a delightful and deep textual love of and appreciation for Trinidad and Trinidadian culture, the first person narrator of the poems encountered in Coconut Kind of Day: Island Poems (a young girl) tells her readers/listeners of buying fruity popsicles from the Palet Man (the Trinidadian term for the Ice Cream Man), racing snails, going with her coconut selling father on his rounds, helping local fishermen with their work and also of enjoying and rejoicing in the beauty of the island landscape and seeing scarlet ibises flying off into the sunset, an authentic and delightful portrayal of Trinidad life and routine offering both children (and in my opinion also adults) an intriguing and enlightening look at another culture (showing what is the same and also of course what is different and a bit more exotic than what we experience in the USA and Canada). And yes, both my adult reading self and also my inner child, they have majorly enjoyed Lynn Joseph's featured verses and also totally love love love that Joseph has penned Coconut Kind of Day: Island Poems using Trinidad vernacular, as this certainly augments and adds to the sense of authenticity and geographic place, (although I guess that I should leave as a caveat that teachers, parents etc. who are a bit anal and retentive regarding proper and standard English grammar and syntax being used in children's books, might indeed have some issues with Coconut Kind of Day: Island Poems and that in the vernacular used by Lynn Joseph, verb endings in particular are often missing in action so to speak).
Now as to Sandra Speidel's accompanying artwork for Coconut Kind of Day: Island Poems, the pictures have a burnished and sunshiny quality to them, with Speidel's lush and colourful paintings successfully capturing the vibrancy of Trinidad and the Caribbean rhythm of Lynn Joseph's poems, with both text and images lavishly and evocatively mirroring each other and evoking vivid sights, sounds, tastes, smells and a general feel for and celebration of island life, culture and landscape, and thus, four stars for A Coconut Kind of Day, highly recommended and with Lynn Joseph's poems being OwnVoices as well.
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Well, part of me kind of wishes that African American poet Eloise Greenfield's expressive and lyrical verses about life in the Bahamas would show more landscape, more depictions of the Bahamas as a group of Caribbean islands. However, after now having slept on and pondered the words encountered in Under the Sunday Tree, I do actually appreciate (and also enjoy) that Greenfield's poems are not in fact all that specifically local in and of themselves, that they colourfully and lovingly show how life in the Bahamas is mostly (and indeed like everywhere) filled with common and everyday events and situations, such as firefighters doing their jobs, a police officer directing traffic, children playing, fishing, dreaming, feeding birds, a woman wearing an outrageous hat, and indeed, that even the poems in Under the Sunday Tree about tourists shopping, sailboat races and floral and faunal descriptions show a delightful universality, demonstrate that for Eloise Greenfield life in the Bahamas is not just Bahamian but also and in fact primarily global (and that Under the Sunday Tree thus shows a wide-reaching and universal poetic lens and view that is nevertheless also still personal and island-bound).
Now with regard to Bahamian folk artist Amos Ferguson's accompanying illustrations for Under the Sunday Tree, yes, I do appreciate Ferguson's sense for colour and that his pictures show a typical and traditional design and composition. However, and I indeed stand by this however, for my own personal aesthetics and visual tastes (and as not really all that much a fan of folk art anyhow), Ferguson's pictures are much too simplistic and as such also too lacking in essential and necessary visual details, and that the absence of depicted emotions, the non existence of most facial features in Ferguson's human figures just does not work all that well for me and sometimes even brings along a tendency to make the illustrations too simplistic and too childish for an adequate and successful mirror for and of Eloise Greenfield's poetry, thus leaving a combination of text and image that is decent enough but where I with Under the Sunday Tree most definitely would prefer that Greenfield's verses were presented either without illustrations or with accompanying photographs. But of course, I also do well realise that Amos Ferguson is considered a famous Bahamian illustrator, but sorry, his folk art is just not visually all that personally appealing to me, so that any potential recommendations do come with the caveat that if one does not enjoy folk art as a style, Amos Ferguson's artwork for Under the Sunday Tree might not be all that much an illustrative treat.
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For several months (and also prior to the January 12, 2010 devastating earthquake), Canadian (or more to the point Quebecois) visual artist Rogé was in south-western Haiti doing a series of full colour portraits of a group of local teenagers, all students at Camp Perrin, which is part of a Haitian commune. And Haiti My Country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren, it basically features fifteen poems written by the above mentioned teenagers (students) as well as Rogé's realistic and evocatively expressive personal portraits of the poets and also of their teacher (and who also presents a poem of her own). And while I have aesthetically really enjoyed Rogé's pictures for Haiti My Country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren and how in each of them, the student being featured is expressively and evocatively looking right at the observer, is focussing his/her eyes on the watcher, well, I must admit that I do wish Rogé could also have painted and included some pictures, some visual representations of the Haitian landscape, of the natural beauty the students' poems are generally describing, since for me, each of the poems for Haiti My Country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren should basically have both a portrait of the wordsmith and also a pictorial rendition of his/ her presented verses (but just to point out that Haiti My Country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren was originally released in French as Haiti Mon Pays, and yes, this certainly makes sense, since Rogé is based in Quebec, the official language of Haiti is French and the student poets would thus of course also be writing in French).
Now while natural disasters unfortunately seem to regularly visit Haiti in the form of earthquakes, hurricanes and floods (and not to mention the political upheaval, corruption, relentless poverty and more recently the seemingly unstoppable and unrelenting gang violence), the teenaged students of Camp Perrin being featured in Haiti my Country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren, they obviously and delightfully, lyrically perceive their country, they view Haiti as a source of pride, as a caressingly poetic landscape teeming with natural beauty, as something positive and inherently hopeful. And albeit after having read Haiti My Country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren in 2023 part of of me does wonder a bit if with all the recent troubles, the Haitian teenagers who penned such wonderful, optimistic and nature/landscape loving verses in 2010 and prior to the major earthquake and its aftermaths would still have the same philosophy and the same sweet and gentle assurance of positivity and environmental appreciation, yes, I still have really and truly massively enjoyed the featured and totally OwnVoices poetry of Haiti My Country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren and also think that it is both enlightening and uplifting to read verses penned by Haitians that glorify, celebrate and absolutely love the county, with my only and minor textual annoyance being that I do wish that Haiti My Country: Poems by Haitian Schoolchildren were dual language. For while I think that translator Solange Messier has done a very nice and poetically flowing job translating the original French language poems of the fifteen Camp Perrin students into English, well, I do kind of want to encounter the original French language voices of those student poets as well, I want to read their French language words and to compare and contrast this in detail with Messier's translations.
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Lyrically enchanting, wonderfully OwnVoices, sometimes joyful but also at times heartbreaking, and truly a real and sweetly textured slice of author Monica Gunning's Jamaican childhood, particular my inner child has absolutely textually adored how Gunning's verses in Under the Breadfruit Tree: Island Poems are both realistic and also full of beauty and imagination. But wonderfully, even when Gunning is telling stories of poverty and of sudden death, her Under the Breadfruit Tree: Island Poems sings out with and ever-present feeling against despair, so that when I am for example reading in Under the Breadfruit Tree about Monica's best friend Connie dying suddenly and that she, that Monica Gunning herself was obviously abandoned by her parents and raised by her grandparents, while there of course is featured textual sadness in Under the Breadfruit Tree: Island Poems, there is also and in each and every of the featured pieces of poetry graceful joy and an appreciation of simple Jamaican pleasures such as breadfruit, family togetherness, and how poverty also does not have to be all encompassing and devastating if communities work together, namely that trading favours, providing necessities to one another becomes a circle of good deeds and a loving and cherished in memory and nostalgia Jamaican childhood for Monica Gunning.
Now with regard to Fabricio Vanden Broeck's artwork for Under the Breadfruit Tree: Island Poems (and yes, each of Monica Gunning's poems does have an accompanying illustration), well, my adult reading self certainly appreciates the artistic talent and expressivity of Vanden Boeck's black and white woodcut-like pictures. However, my inner child really and truly does want a trifle more colour (and in particular yellows, blues and greens), and with the result being that aesthetically both of us (both my inner child and my adult self) do heartily agree that Fabricio Vanden Boeck's artwork for Under the Breadfruit Tree: Island Poems is visually decent and provides a rather nice mirror to and for Monica Gunning's Jamaican childhood themed poetry, but that the lack of colour in the artwork is not only just a wee bit annoying and frustrating but also kind of makes the poems themselves feel a bit paler and lacking in intensity (at least I have found this to be the case if or when I try to concentrate on Vanden Boeck's illustrations for Under the Breadfruit Tree: Island Poems with an equal intensity as on the written words, as on Gunning's featured and presented Jamaican based verses).
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By the same duo who brought us the Caldecott Medal winner Frog Went a-Courtin, John Langstaff's Over in the Meadow is basically and simply a fun and engaging counting rhyme from one to ten (Feodor Rojankovsky's accompanying illustrations are brightly vibrant and lushly descriptive, and the number of baby animals illustrated is equal to the numerical amounts featured in the text, in John Langstaff's adapted song lyrics).
I enjoyed Over in the Meadow almost but not really quite as much as the for me in all ways brilliant Frog Went a-Courtin. For while the latter features a detailed (and very much appreciated) folklore and history heavy author's note at the back of the book, Over in the Meadow just has some minor and very basic supplemental information printed on the side flaps of the dust jacket (which I guess, is still more than adequate, but considering that dust jackets can tear, are sometimes lost and are also regularly removed from library books, this could easily cause the supplemental details about the genesis etc. of the original folksong to be lost as well).
And one further, minor (personal) quibble I have found with Over in the Meadow is that while the numbers from one to ten are featured as both pictures and words, the numbers themselves, as numerical entities, are not part of the illustrations (and that would certainly increase Over in the Meadow's value as a mathematical visual teaching/learning tool). Still, highly recommended as a fun and simple counting book for young children (as well as Over in the Meadow simply being a beautifully illustrated adaptation of the popular folksong). Three and a half stars!
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Poetic, ecstatic and marvellously evocative, Nancy Hundal's words, her free flowing rhyme-less lyricism for her 2002 picture book Camping imaginatively, magically, glowingly but at the same time also delightfully very much realistically demonstrate and describe the oh so many joys, the delights, the multifaceted nuances of a summer vacation family camping trip. However and yes I for one do think importantly, Nancy Hundal's text for Camping also pretty clearly points out that her young narrator at first does not really want to go camping, that for the family, camping is in fact the only decent summer vacation that is actually affordable (if the entire family is going to be able to go on vacation together and as a unit). And indeed, that in Camping our young narrator's original annoyance, frustration and reluctance with her family "having" to go camping pretty soon turns to absolute and poetical ecstasy, to both loving and appreciating a family vacation full of everything bright, beautiful and fun to be savoured and experienced with ALL the senses, close family ties and wondrous experiences both during the day and at night (in front of an inviting outdoor fire), for me and to me, this really makes Camping much more special and much more of a textual pleasure than if Nancy Hundal would just be describing something that happens for every vacation, that the slow but steady switch from reluctance to acceptance and delight make Camping truly spectacular.
Accompanied by Brian Deines' illustrations, which for me and my aesthetics do totally colour and depicted content wise capture and reflect the very essence of summer camping and how much fun going on an extended camping trip is turning out to be for the family, for ever member of the family, Camping both textually and visually presents a brilliant, emotive and absolutely superb marriage of Nancy Hundal's text and Brian Deines' images, a both visual and narrational (poetic) celebration of summer, of family, and of camping as a fun and rewarding type of holiday (and most definitely, a four star rating).
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Although there is nothing really all that novel and exciting about Little Goblins Ten (which is basically just a typical Halloween-based picture book adaptation of the traditional Over in the Meadow song), I certainly and smilingly have found the combination of Pamela Jane's adapted lyrics and Jane Manning's accompanying artwork both sweet and engaging, never in my opinion potentially too creepy and frightening, and indeed especially visually providing a fun introduction to all things Halloween for the very young (but of course, if you actually do consider Halloween as a no-no, as something inherently evil and uncanny, Little Goblins Ten should probably be avoided).
And yes, with Little Goblins Ten it is in fact Jane Manning's illustrations that have made me rank this with four stars. For while the author's, while Pamela Jane's verses are basically just a standard adaptation of Over in the Meadow, Jane Manning's pictures are totally and delightfully detailed and full of colour and expressiveness (and not to mention that the pictures of the galavanting baby goblins, witches, skeletons, dragons etc. also provide fun counting practice of the numbers from one to ten). Highly recommended, albeit that yes, I certainly would have enjoyed Little Goblins Ten just a trifle more, if at the back of the book, Patricia Jane had also provided the musical score and perhaps even the original lyrics for Over in the Meadow, as while so very many picture book adaptations of the latter seem to exist, the majority of them sadly do not bother including the original (and I do think that this is somewhat of a shortcoming, as not everyone will automatically know the original lyrics and more to the point, the necessary melody).
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Count Them While You Can (both written and illustrated by Anne Bowman) introduces younger children to ten critically endangered animal species (through a repetitive, poetic song that also practices and reinforces the numbers from one through ten). The rhyming text is actually an adaptation of the popular folksong Over in the Meadow, and can thus of course also be sung to its tune (and it would have been an added bonus if a musical score for the song or perhaps even an accompanying CD had been included, as not everyone will necessarily know the tune, the melody for Over in the Meadow). Now I do tend to find the presented text of Count Them While You Can to be a bit too repetitive and monotonous for my own personal tastes, but I also believe that for younger children, especially if this book is to be used as a read or sing aloud activity, the very repetitiveness of the rhyming sequences would likely not only help practice the numbers, but also reinforce both the names and habits of the ten endangered animal species featured.
The lush and intricate accompanying illustrations not only bring each of the ten species and their habits, their struggles, to descriptive and realistic life on the page, they also help to furhter reinforce the numbers, as each number featured corresponds to the quantity of baby animals illustrated. And furthermore, I think that it is absolutely brilliant of Anne Bowman to feature not just adult animals, but family units (adults and their offspring). One cannot deny the "cuteness factor" of most baby animals and anything that even somewhat helps to make children (and their parents, their caregivers as well, of course) more aware of the plight, of the dangers faced by so many animals species, of the fact that there are animal species in imminent danger of extinction, is a very very good and in all ways a positive thing indeed. And while Count Them While You Can is, of course, first and foremost a book meant for and geared towards for primarily younger children (ages three to five perhaps), the fact that Anne Bowman has also provided much supplemental (and scientifically detailed) information and data about the ten species of endangered animals (as well as information on endangered species in general) makes Count Them While You Can also a useful tool for discussing extinction, conservation etc. with slightly older children (who might not be all that partial to reading or singing the actual text, the song, but might well be curious about the habitats, sizes, eating habits, threats etc. of the ten featured species). Most highly recommended!
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I am indeed very much and more than pleasantly surprised at how much I have (on both a personal and reading pleasure level) both enjoyed and also been somewhat and deliciously, tremblingly a tiny bit creeped and shivered out by both text and images of Marcia Brown's Shadow.
For Marcia Brown's poetical narrative (which glows and flows naturally and furthermore and importantly neither feels nor in any way to and for me sounds like simply a translation from the French language original, and that is something rather majorly difficult to achieve, especially with regard to poetry) and her accompanying illustrations engage in a slow, involved, but always steady and deliberate pas de deux dance of what one's shadow does (and what it can do), a wondrous and eye-opening celebration of both its postive and negative qualities, and above all demonstrating that positive and negative, that good and bad, go hand in hand (are eternally linked) and that one is not really even possible without the other (and that shadows of all kinds are therefore an integral part of life, and thus of course necessary and essential). More than well deserving of its Caldecott Medal award, and the only possible caveat I have is that Shadow might indeed be a bit too frightening for very young or exceedingly sensitive children (as indeed, while I have absolutely adored Shadow as an older adult, especially the detailed and evocative illustrations would likely have been much too creepy for me as a child, and perhaps even as a young teenager). And although I personally would also have much appreciated and desired Blaise Cendrars' original French language poem having been included as perhaps a small author's note, this has really in no way all that much affected my enjoyment and appreciation of Shadow (and thus also does not influence or change my sparkling and shining four star ranking either).
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Although I am not as an older adult all that much a so-called dog person anymore, I have indeed very much enjoyed the sweet and from multiple different dogs’ perspectives poems of I Didn’t Do It.
For yes, Patricia MacLachlan, and her daughter Emily MacLachlan Charest, their blank non rhyming but always delightfully lyrical featured printed words are not only engagingly and humorously penned (and will likely enchant many if not most young readers or listeners, and in particular those children whose families own dogs as pets), honestly, when I am reading I Didn’t Do It, I am equally and constantly amazed at how much the MacLachlans in my humble opinion do manage to realistically capture the likely thoughts and feelings of many pet dogs and in particular regarding when they have been naughty and know they have been naughty. Because indeed, with ALL of the poems in I Didn’t Do It which have a dog misbehaving or wondering why the family might be annoyed for some reason (like chewed up slippers, nabbed food, bones etc. brought inside), I am totally reminded of the goofy but lovable Rottweiler of my childhood and how oh so many of the MacLachlans verses totally could be him, totally reflect especially what was in his expressive eyes when he had been a “bad boy” and was more than well aware of this.
But while the above certainly makes I Didn’t Do It sweetly nostalgic for me, it also renders me a trifle annoyed that there is not one single Rottweiler themed poem featured by Patricia MacLachlan and her daughter in I Didn’t Do It and I guess I am also hoping that this omission has been accidental and not something deliberate (for yes, if the MacLachlans have in fact specifically not included Rottweilers in I Didn’t Do It simply or even mainly because of the Rottweiler breed of dog’s in my opinion rather undeserved sinister reputation, yes, that would definitely personally bother and frustrate me).
And thus, even though the combination of Patricia MacLachlan and Emily MacLachlan Charest’s canine poetry and Katy Schneider’s expressively realistic whilst at the same time delightfully imaginative artwork is both successful and indeed shiningly five stars for me, that there are no Rottweilers featured either textually or illustratively is most definitely a major personal disappointment and enough so to lower my general rating for I Didn’t Do It from five to four stars.
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Once I Ate a Pie, which just like its companion tome I Didn't Do It features a short collection of blank verse poems from dogs’ imagined but also totally authentic seeming viewpoints and perspectives, is generally sweetly lyrical and humorously engaging (penned by Patricia MacLachlan and her daughter Emily MacLachlan Charest and with accompanying illustrations by Katy Schneider). And indeed, I do both appreciate and enjoy that the MacLachlans' main theme for Once I Ate a Pie is not simply to focus on how cute, how loyal, how delightfully playful and cuddly family dogs can generally and for the most part be, but yes, that a sizeable amount of the featured verses in Once I Ate a Pie also demonstrate naughty canine behaviors (such as food nabbing, borrowing and chewing slippers, incessant barking, and that many of the smaller dog breeds do also seem to often possess a rather overdeveloped and thus at times annoying sense of time entitlement).
But while I (as already alluded to above) very much like and find it cheering that Patricia MacLachlan and her daughter show both nicely behaved and equally so naughty dogs in Once I Ate a Pie (and I also think that Katy Schneider's both realistic and at the same time wonderfully imgivative artwork is both visually delightful and a wonderful pictorial mirror of and for the MacLachlans' poems), I do personally find it rather problematic at best that in NONE of the poems in Once I Ate a Pie where bad or potentially bad dog behaviors are shown, there are ANY disciplinary consequences for the misbehaving canines or with them even somewhat feeling at least a bit chastised, something that I personally do find quite hugely annoying (as I really tend to totally and utterly despise badly behaving, insufficiently trained and socialised dogs, and that therefore, even though I very much have found the majority of Once I Ate a Pie delightful and heartwarming, my rating will and can only be three stars, and not to mention that I am once more a bit miffed that like I Didn't Do it, Once I Ate a Pie again features not one word, not one single poem about and regarding Rottweilers).
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Yes indeed, Celestino Piatti's presented artwork for ABC der Tiere (which is basically an animal based abecedarian) is absolutely aesthetically spectacular, with each and every picture (generally one depicted animal species for every letter of the alphabet, from A to Z, and accompanied by Hans Schumacher's poetry) showing itself as both colourful and delightfully naively realistic. And furthermore, the artwork for ABC der Tiere, it also demonstrates that Celestino Piatti is not only a talented artist but that his illustrations for ABC der Tiere are equally delightfully visually suitable for even very young or very sensitive children, since most definitely, even pictures of potentially fierce predators such as lions and tigers are rendered by Piatti in ABC der Tiere as realistically but also without horror or gruesomeness, and thus of course and fortunately equally never frighteningly.
And with regard to Hans Schumacher's German language poetry for ABC der Tiere (and as they accompany Celestino Piatti's illustrations), his featured verses, they are ALL of them, ALL twenty-six of them engaging, humour-filled and totally, wonderfully replete with both flights of fancy and realistically authentic animal species specific factual information, creating with ABC der Tiere a wonderful and pretty much spectacular marriage and combination of Celestino Piatti’s lively and colourful illustrations and Hans Schumacher's verbally descriptive and often also laugh out loud funny poems, but with the one and only caveat from me being that because the poems for ABC der Tiere are penned entirely in German (and do occasionally also show quite a sophisticated level of vocabulary and syntax choices), a decent, at least high intermediate level of German language fluency is (at least in my humble opinion) most definitely strongly recommended if not even required.
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On a purely and utterly textual level, I have absolutely adored the both colourful and oh so esoterically, sweetly preceptive seasonally inspired poetry, the lyrical nature verses author Joyce Sidman presents in Red Sings From Treetops. The words used, featured, they to and for me so totally and completely capture and distill what the four seasons, what spring, summer, autumn and winter represent and mean (they are lively, sweet, and yes, glowingly shining with exquisitely colourfully hued gracefulness, pure and caressingly tender lyrical perfection).
And if Red Sings From Treetops were indeed presented to me as simply a collection of poetry, a compilation of lyrical offering glorifying and celebrating the four seasons, I would most likely be rating it with four and perhaps even five stars.
However, and this is a very massive and frustrating however, I personally have not at all enjoyed illustrator Pamela Zagarenski's accompanying illustrations (and have not really been able to even mildly appreciate them, their 2010 Caldecott Honour award quite notwithstanding). For although I have previously rather enjoyed Pamela Zagarenski's artwork and illustrative style, her accompanying pictorial offerings for Red Sings From Treetops are for one and first and foremost much too minutely small and thus massively difficult for me to even adequately visualise with my rapidly ageing eyes and for two, the images shown, well, they mostly seem rather exaggerated, visually strange and to the point that they do not really in any way complement or compliment Joyce Sidman's poetry, feeling continuously and distinctly out of place and leaving me so massively disappointed on an aesthetic level, that I am in truth only able to truly enjoy and savour Red Sings From Treetops and fully submerse myself in Joyce Sidman's brilliant and lovely lyricism if I am able to actively ignore and forget about the illustrations. And since I have not really been all that much able to accomplish and achieve this, and as the illustrations always do seem to annoyingly and frustratingly intrude and interfere, I can and will only consider a low three star rating at best for Red Sings From Treetops, with a full five stars for the text, for Joyce Sidman's outstandingly superb seasonal nature poetry, her paean to spring, summer, autumn and winter, but only one tiny star for Pamela Zagarenski's accompanying illustrations, for at least for and to me, they have left nothing but disappointment and aesthetic frustration, and have resulted in a rather major headache to boot, because I have constantly been forced to squint due to the tininess, the lack of visual clarity of the featured, the presented pictures.
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I spied Monte Packham's 2021 (and lavishly illustrated) collection of twelve mid-length children's poems at my local independent bookstore (displayed in the ever changing front window). But yes, I originally had pretty much and soundly so decided against purchasing a copy of Rhyme Time for myself, for my personal library.
For even though skimming through Rhyme Time at the bookstore immediately and wonderfully does show and demonstrate to and for me that with regard to Monte Packham's lyricism, that with his obviously amazing talents for producing rhyming poetry that never once sounds old-fashioned, that always sounds and feels as fresh and as "novel" as blank verse and concrete verses usually do, as well as Packham's accompanying bright, expressively simple and visually joyful and bouncy artwork, Rhyme Time is most definitely absolutely and utterly delightful and would most certainly also work quite superbly as a read aloud tome for children from about the age of five onwards (but of course also for those of us adults who still fondly remember their childhoods), the purchasing price of well over fifty Canadian dollars for Rhyme Time was (and remains) rather annoyingly and frustratingly shocking and as such also considerably more than I was personally willing to spend.
Because although Rhyme Time is a poetic treasure trove and a masterpiece of sweetness and light (and both textually and visually), sorry, but Monte Packham's presented verses and his illustrations, whilst they are lovely, lovely, lovely (and mirror one another almost perfectly), both of them are also in my humble opinion not at all worth having to pay an exaggerated price such as I have mentioned above. And in fact the only reason I actually do now own a personal copy of Rhyme Time is because my life partner insisted on buying a copy for me, something that part of me happily appreciates but also at the same time somewhat is a trifle annoyed with (since Rhyme Time is most definitely majorly and massively overpriced, and which is also why I would only ever recommend Rhyme Time if you can in fact find a cheaply, a reasonably priced copy somewhere or if your public library actually has Rhyme Time shelved and available for borrowing,
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Lyrical and sweetly, poetically magical, Nancy Hundal's Melted Star Journey gracefully and with flowing cadence describes and depicts the sights, the myriad of evocative observations a young boy perceives and makes on his and his family's journey home by car from visiting friends or relatives on a rainy night (and from the illustrations, Luke and his family obviously live in the Vancouver/Victoria British Columbia area). A true feast for the senses (and yes, for all of the senses, not just vision, as the other senses are most definitely equally implied), Melted Star Journey presents both a lyrical and tender family-type story and also passionately celebrates the power of imagination and observation, and how through the rain-splattered car windows, the outside, the surroundings look or at least tend to appear fuzzy and misty, even somewhat colourfully, playfully abstract (hence the title, Melted Star Journey, as to young Luke looking out of a car window full of tiny and moving raindrops, street lights, car lights, traffic lights etc. have an appearance of melting, of dripping watery globlets of sparkling and glittering starlight).
And as to Karen Reezuch's accompanying illustrations for Melted Star Journey, while in and of themselves I would not in fact consider them personal favourites (as especially her human figures seem to be a trifle too realistically stagnant and in one's face for and to me), they actually as a whole, as a collective entity do work very very well in conjunction with and to the lyricism and poetry of Nancy Hundal's narrative, for especially how Karen Reezuch has depicted the translucent effects of raindrops, of water on light does in every way totally and utterly, marvellously mirror and reflect the author's printed words, how Luke with poetic imaginativeness perceives and sees his surroundings out of his family's darkened and rain-drenched, rain-splattered car windows. Four stars, and highly recommended, although I do not think that Melted Car Journey is actually in current print (but it does appear to be still pretty easily and relatively cheaply available used online).
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As an adult (and as someone who has always much appreciated scratchboard type illustrations), I do absolutely love love love Beth Krommes' detailed and brilliantly exquisite black and white images. For they in my opinion totally and brilliantly make Susan Marie Swanson's The House in the Night into a visual masterpiece, into a true feast for the eyes (and I thus also and absolutely cheer that The House in the Night won the 2009 Caldecott Medal).
And yes, Ruth Krommme’s illustrations as they appear in The House in the Night, they are truly and in every way enchanting, intriguing, with the interplay of light and dark, of black and white, providing a wondrous and magical sense of especially time of day, of the fact that nighttime is not only a period of darkness, but also one of magical light and brightness, due to candles, desk lamps, as well as the magical lights of the heavenly spheres, of the stars, the moon and that the sun's rays are reflected on the moon's surface, that we see the sun's light even at night when we look up and see the moon. Combined with author Susan Marie Swanson's simple, lullingly gentle poetic narrative, a circular text about a child reading a book (in the house, at night) and a bird in said book basically and beautifully singing a song of eternity, of the magic of the universe, the stars above (of both darkness and light, engaged and forever intertwined in an everlasting dance), The House in the Night presents and gloriously demonstrates that nighttime, that darkness are poetic, are enchanting, are due to the intermingling of light and dark not to be feared, and that while a house at nighttime with its walls and artificial lights might indeed provide warmth and protection from the elements, that even these elements, the outside, the universe, the nighttime skies above, are forever infused with light and brightness and thus to be embraced and not ever to be feared or considered uncanny. Five shining and sparkling stars (and even though I have read that many children seemingly do not all that much enjoy Beth Krommes' illustrations, I personally do absolutely adore them, and consider The House in the Night a truly magical and esoteric, marvellous marriage of text and image).
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So yes, while Carole Boston Weatherford's lyrical text certainly does present and depict the work-heavy day and night toiling life of slavery in historic New Orleans, well, when I am reading the verses presented in and by Freedom in Congo Square, I for one do not think that the author's words really all that much specifically show the true horrors of African American slavery (as I have read similar such descriptions and accounts with regard to Mediaeval Feudalism, European and North American child labour etc.). Sure, Weatherford's poetry, it does most definitely point out that African American slavery was indeed a life of intense struggle and backbreaking labour and that the sting of the owner's or the plantation's manager's lash was a constant, never-ending fear and threat (and that the slaves were thus always looking forward to and yearning for Sunday, for their few hours of "freedom" in Congo Square). But I personally do wish that there had been a bit more specifically African American slavery issues and scenarios portrayed in Freedom in Congo Square, since at least for me, while Carole Boston Weatherford’s poetry is expressive, descriptive and also informative, her verses are also and nevertheless pretty well generic and standard with regard to indentured servitude in general (and on a global scale).
And as to R. Gregory Christie's accompanying illustrations for Freedom in Congo Square, while I would from a personal aesthetics point of view not really consider them in any way as personal favourites (for while I do love the colours used and the landscape depictions, the human figures are a bit too stylised for my tastes, with especially their arms and legs often seeming too long and stick-like). But that being all said, the illustrator's pictorial renderings do work very very well with Carole Boston Weatherford's lyricism, both complementing and often even expanding on her printed words, on the poetic musings featured (and thus, I can and do indeed much appreciate the Caldecott Honour designation for Freedom in Congo Square, although I would not really all that much enjoy R. Gregory Christie's illustrations as art in and of itself).
Now for me and on an academic (intellectual) level, my favourite parts of Freedom in Congo Square have of course been and are Freddi Williams Evans' foreword (as he is not only a historian but also seemingly a Congo Square expert, and that appreciatively, a link to his personal website has also been included in Freedom in Congo Square) and the back materials (a wonderful glossary and the author's note, although I do have to admit that I am more than a bit annoyed that Carole Boston Weatherford has not also included a list of books or websites for further study and research, for although I do appreciate that Freddi Williams Evans' personal website has been included in his foreword, I fail to understand and fathom why the author, why Carole Boston Weatherford’s then could not have equally added a few books, websites etc. to peruse for further study and information in her own otherwise excellent concluding notes for Freedom in Congo Square).
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Although I do think that Reeve Lindbergh’s (and yes, Reeve Lindbergh is the daughter of American aviator of Charles Lindbergh and poet Anne Morrow Lindbergh) rhyming scheme for her 2007 lyrical picture book North Country Spring is for the most part successful and gives a nice song-like quality to Lindbergh’s presented verses, sorry, but personally speaking, I have found the fact that Reeve Lindbergh uses one single all encompassing poem to describe spring in what appears to be northern parts of the United Sates (but not Alaska) rather potentially dragging and tedious for in particular the intended audience (for younger children from about five to eight years of age) and especially so if North Country Spring is to be read aloud. For in my opinion, Reeve Lindbergh penning a series of shorter seasonal poems in North Country Spring would certainly work much better and be much more interest retaining for the so-called picture book crowd than that one long poem of almost thirty pages which is being featured. And yes, my own inner child was indeed and definitely becoming increasingly and intensely bored and distracted at around the half way mark, at around page fifteen of North Country Spring, with even Reeve Lindbergh’s lyricism and her textual celebration of spring in its many forms not being enough, not being able to change the fact that North Country Spring‘s set-up and massive length seem to have the unfortunate tendency to become more than a bit distracting and lyrically, textually frustrating the longer Lindbergh’s only one poem drags on and lasts, (so that by the end of North Country Spring I was in fact really no longer enjoying Reeve Lindbergh’s verses at all and was so bored that I did not even bother perusing the author’s supplemental notes).
But albeit Reeve Lindbergh’s featured poem for North Country Spring is definitely too long and as such too awkward and distracting in a picture book format for me, Lindbergh’s lyrical celebration of spring is still textually enchanting in many places, and that indeed, if I could find Liz Sivertson’s accompanying artwork to be aesthetically pleasant, I would probably be rating North Country Spring with a low but still solid enough three stars.
However, I have to admit that I do not at all consider Liz Siverston’s illustrations as being even remotely visually to my tastes, finding her pictures annoyingly blurry and also generally much too dark and gloomy to provide a decent and reasonable aesthetic mirror to and for a picture book about spring (with in my humble opinion, some of Sivertson’s illustrations also majorly dragging down Reeve Lindbergh’s words, and with the end result thus being that for me the combination of Reeve Lindbergh’s overly long poem and Liz Sivertson’s blurry and often much too dark hued for springtime artwork leave me no choice but to consider only two stars for North Country Spring).
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So yes, Winterberries and Apple Blossoms: Reflections and Flavors of a Mennonite Year, Nan Forler's sweetly poetic, evocative paean to Old Order Mennonite culture and traditions (in the form of a lyrical month-by-month calendar celebration of events such as quilting bees, sugaring, planting, harvesting and the like) is indeed not only wonderfully and stunningly mirrored by renowned Waterloo, Ontario artist Peter Etril Snyder's paintings (and I cannot and will not call them illustrations, as they are described as paintings on the book cover, and paintings they are, folksy, meticulously realistically detailed and quite simply as poetic, as emotionally stirring as the narratives, as the lyrical verses they are complimenting and complementing). The recipes for Mennonite inspired baked goods at the back of Winterberries and Apple Blossoms, they totally are an appreciated added bonus and all look deliciously scrumptiously appetising (although I do have to warn those who are vegan that all of the recipes do contain dairy and eggs, but they could all likely be easily veganised). A wonderful and poetic choice for children interested in Mennonite culture and traditions (slightly older children, as there is quite a lot of text for each month, and while the poetry is beautiful and alive with descriptiveness, it also feels somewhat complex and dense at times), Winterberries and Apple Blossoms is also a book, I believe many adults would enjoy (a perfect coffee-table type of tome).
And while I really and truly wish I could have given Winterberries and Apple Blossoms five stars, I did and still do have one minor, but rather frustrating issue with this book, namely that the size of the font, of the printed text is absolutely minuscule, to the point that I actually have had trouble reading the featured verses without my reading glasses (and even when wearing my reading glasses, I still tended to find the font size to be rather overly small and cramped, squashed). And since picture books are often meant to be read aloud or to be read by children (including some who might only recently have learned to read), a very small font size could so easily cause words to be missed, to be misread, to simply be difficult to easily decipher (limiting or at least potentially limiting reading pleasure). Still, very highly recommended, as my reservations with regard to font sizes have nothing much to do with the general quality and esoteric beauty of Nan Forler's poetry, her glowing depictions and descriptions of Mennonite culture and life.
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So yes, the factual information on Arctic wildlife (as well as on a few plant species endemic to tundra regions) that Eileen Spinelli presents in the twenty-four poems of Polar Bear, Arctic Hare: Poems of the Frozen North (verses about polar bears, Arctic hares, lemmings, caribou, musk oxen, various types of bird and whale species and even some Arctic insects) is certainly both interesting and enlightening and with just enough detail for young readers or listeners (and I also appreciate the supplemental bits and pieces about many of the featured animal and plant species at the back of Polar Bear, Arctic Hare: Poems of the Frozen North, although like usual, like always, the absence of an included bibliography with suggestions for further reading and study is very much both a personal and academic annoyance).
But honestly, while factually, Eileen Spinelli's verses most definitely shine, sorry, but as for the poems themselves, as to the actual lyrical quality of Jerry Spinelli's writing, in my humble opinion, this leaves very much fo be desired. For the lyrical flow is halting and Spinelli's mixture of rhyming and free form verses (and usually appearing in the same poem) does not ever really work all that well, leaving awkward and lyrically unappealing poetry that definitely is not at all fun and engaging to read (and is in fact so generally annoyingly frustrating that I actually have not at all enjoyed Polar Bear, Arctic Hare: Poems of the Frozen North as a book of Arctic themed poems and would also not really consider recommending Polar Bear, Arctic Hare: Poems of the Frozen North since Eileen Spinelli’s awkward writing and lacking lyricism is just not memorable and not something I would suggest for reading or for listening purposes).
And Eugenie Fernandes' accompanying artwork (which truly is aesthetically delightful and a colourful combination of realism and imagination) is actually and in fact the main and probably even the only reason why my rating for Polar Bear, Arctic Hare: Poems of the Frozen North is still three and not two stars (since yes indeed, I do think that Eugenie Fernandes’ illustrations deserve to be celebrated, even though the in my opinion pretty abysmal quality of Eileen Spinelli's poetry really does tend to lessen the potential textual pleasure of Polar Bear, Arctic Hare: Poems of the Frozen North pretty significantly).
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Comets, Stars, the Moon, and Mars: Space Poems and Paintings (did not like and much too unscientific for me)
UnBEElievables: Honeybee Poems and Paintings (like the scientific information on bees, but do not like either the poetry itself or the illustrations)
Insectlopedia (bad science, makes insects unappealing and I really despise the pictures)
mammalabilia (poems too deliberately silly and clever, ugly artwork)
Winter Eyes (beautiful winter poems and also presenting decent but not all that spectacular pictures)
Autumnblings (nice fall themed poems, lacklustre and for me unappealing illustrations)
Summersaults (do not like summer as a season, but both poetry and pictures actually almost do make me like summer)
Handsprings (not my favourite artwork, but poetry and illustrations work well tougher)
on the wing (horrible poetry and silly pictures, I totally do NOT like this)
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I have always totally loved loved loved winter as a season, and therefore for me personally, as a 2013 picture book Snowflakes Fall will always both textually and illustratively be primarily and first and foremost a total and delightfully caressing, joyful celebration of snow, of its beauty, of delicate snowflakes with not one of them alike, of how how children play and frolic in and on top of snowscapes and finally how melting snow leads to rain and returning flowers come springtime.
But albeit I do indeed know and equally very much appreciate (after reading about Snowflakes Fall online) that both Patricia MacLachlan’s presented poetry and Steven Kellogg’s accompanying artwork are obviously also meant to be an homage to and a remembrance of the twenty children killed in 2012 at Sandy Hook Elementary School, I readily (even if also a trifle contritely) must admit my own snow-loving self really and honestly has had quite a lot of intense trouble seeing anything truly painful and heartbreaking within either MacLachlan’s text and Kellogg’s artwork for Snowflakes Fall.
For most definitely, while my logical adult self of course and to a point well realises that Patricia MacLachlan’s musings about remembering children and Steven Kellogg’s illustrations of those twenty empty snow angels are likely harkening back to the horror and the pain of the Sandy Hook massacre, that the young victims are ALL remembered and will never be forgotten, sorry, but my inner child sure is really fighting hard and strongly to ONLY AND UTTERLY read Snowflakes Fall as cheerful and delightful winter fun and gorgeous depictions of wonderful and delightful snowflakes and to thus only consider Snowflakes Fall as being about Sandy Hook as pretty much an afterthought at best. And furthermore, my personal reading and viewing reaction to Patricia MacLachlan’s text and Steven Kellogg’s images in Snowflakes Fall should maybe also raise the question if the intended audience for Snowflakes Fall if the so-called picture book crowd would also and primarily see and approach Snowflakes Fall like my inner child’s reaction, as only, as primarily celebrating winter and really nothing more than this (and that as a picture book about poetically depicting and relishing winter and snow, Snowflakes Fall definitely is wonderful, is spectacular, but that for remembering the young victims of Sandy Hook, I do think that Snowflakes Fall is a bit lacking and also a bit difficult to fathom especially for younger readers or listeners).
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Yes indeed, for a single and all encompassing poem about trees as plants, as living entities, about what trees are, how they are used by both man and beast (although some specific details on logging and that over-logging can be very destructive to and for tres, to and for forests would also be appreciated) and of course how trees make our landscapes pretty and visually spectacular with their leaves, with their canopies, with their impressive trunks, Harry Behn’ 1992 picture book Trees certainly is lovely and sweetly lyrical. And most definitely (at least in my humble opinion), Trees is also perfect to be read aloud, to be shared with a child or with a group of children, since the verses Behn presents in Trees are also rhyming, and delightfully so not ever showing an awkward or halting rhyming scheme (as this, as a traditional rhyming scheme for me often makes a poem or a group of poems better for oral reading than blank or free verses). Therefore, a nice little lyrical introduction to trees is Harry Behn’s poem, although I do wish that for one Behn had in Trees not described trees as being imbued with kindness (as I really do think that this type of anthropomorphism is in fact rather problematic since kindness is a human sentiment and trees are not humans and humans are not trees) and that for two, Harry Behn claiming in Trees that trees are somehow incapable of doing harm is in my humble opinion just totally erroneous in and of itself (as some trees can be toxic, and well, if a tree falls during for example a severe windstorm, it certainly can and often does cause real harm, because it can hit cars, people etc. and cause major damage, injuries, even potential death).
But text wise, Trees and Harry Behn’s poem (and even with the two bones of textual contention I have described above) are still solidly four stars. And honestly, the only reason why my final rating for Trees has to be a high three and not yet four stars is that while I do think that James Endicott’s accompanying artwork is visually expressive, descriptive and as such sure does provide a successfully or at least a generally successful visual mirror to and for Harry Behn’s featured verses, I do wonder and question why Endicott makes use of so little green, why his colour scheme (and for pictures of trees at that) is often not all that verdant (and certainly not early enough so for my aesthetics).
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Maybe I am truly a bit overly grumpy today and perhaps I have also been reading far too many of Brenda Z. Guiberson's animal and ecology themed picture books lately. But be that as it may, albeit I find Guiberson's presented text for Moon Bear lyrical, song-like and at the same time also enlightening regarding how Moon Bears, how Asiatic Black Bears live (and that one does not often see them but more often notices their tracks, their scat, their scratch marks etc.), personally I also have to consider that Brenda Z. Guiberson's words for Moon Bear are a trifle too repetitive and simplistic for me (and also for my so-called inner child, I should add).
Now of course, considering that Moon Bear looks text wise like it is meant to be a picture book for toddlers, for young children from about the age of three to around five or six maximum, that very repetitiveness might actually work rather well and in fact be a good thing. However, considering that I personally do aesthetically find Ed Young's accompanying artwork for Moon Bear to be rather dark and creepy looking and as such perhaps even possibly visually frightening for very sensitive children, I just do not really like the combination of Brenda Z. Guiberson's simple and child-like text and Ed Young's much too dark illustrations all that much (but I do of course also wonder a bit if Young's artwork with its dark hues might not work quite as well in a digital download from Open Library, if his pictures would look brighter and less visually gloomy if I were to read Moon Bear as an actual book and not as a online).
But considering, that no, I have not really aesthetically enjoyed Ed Young's artwork all that much, that I find Brenda Z. Guiberson's narrative a bit too simple and too on the surface for my liking and also truly must question why if Guiberson lists all kinds of ways one can help with Moon Bear conservation efforts and targets, she does not then bother to also include a detailed bibliography with suggestions for further reading, well yes, my general rating for Moon Bear is going to remain at only two stars (and indeed, even if I do feel a bit curmudgeonly about this).
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So with regard to the poetry penned and presented by Patricia Thomas’s in her 2007 picture book Nature's Paintbox: A Seasonal Gallery of Art and Verse, for me and in my humble opinion, Thomas’ descriptively delightful free form, non rhyming verses, they generally and successfully capture the essence, they focus on the very heart of winter, spring, summer and fall (and also, on how one should paint or draw the four seasons, that there are different types of art materials and methods to be used for each of them).
And indeed, I also do very much appreciate and even intensely love how Nature's Paintbox: A Seasonal Gallery of Art and Verse starts with winter and once again concludes with winter, and that from her printed words, that from her poetry, Patricia Thomas obviously is (and very much like me, I might add) a total fan of winter. For I certainly do find it occasionally rather annoying that picture books about in particular winter often seem to show mostly how cold and how dreary winter can be, but that thankfully and happily, in the parts about winter of Nature's Paintbox: A Seasonal Gallery of Art and Verse, Patricia Thomas does totally and absolutely celebrate winter as a season (and this even though the accompanying artwork is mostly black and white, to show that for winter, the best type of colouring agent to be used would be pen and ink).
But while Patricia Thomas also and of course both textually and visually celebrates spring, summer and autumn in Nature's Paintbox: A Seasonal Gallery of Art and Verse, for me personally in particular the spring and summer themed artwork (but actually not so much the text, not so much Thomas’ spring and summer poetry) rather feels kind of too focussed on people and not enough on nature (as indeed, there are for me too many pictures of humans and of formal gardens in the spring and summer sections, something that I do wish were not the case, for the artwork for spring and summer in Nature's Paintbox: A Seasonal Gallery of Art and Verse is for my aesthetics not really “green” enough and in particular so if compared to the almost entirely nature themed artwork for the sections on fall and winter).
Still though, even with me not finding Patricia Thomas’ spring and summer artwork sufficiently nature oriented enough for me, both textually and illustratively Nature's Paintbox: A Seasonal Gallery of Art and Verse has been a true delight and as such also a solid four stars.
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It is a long winter's night, and the Tomten (a small, ancient gnome, who lives quietly and mostly unnoticed on a remote Swedish farm) awakens. He watches over the farm's livestock, encouraging the winter-weary animals with the promise of spring (talking to them in Tomten language, a silent language that the farm animals, from cows to barn cats, are able to understand). The farmer and his wife, although also under the Tomten's watchful eyes, are unaware of the Tomten's presence and unable to understand Tomten language, although if their children were awake, they would be able to perceive the Tomten and comprehend his language. Throughout the night, the Tomten continues making his rounds, and as long as there are people and animals on the farm, he will faithfully keep watch over them, night after night, season after season, year after year, continuously repeating.
Astrid Lindgren's The Tomten exhibits a sparse, sweetly poetic, but also somewhat repetitive narrative style. For some, the repetitiveness of the text might well seem a trifle monotonous, but for me, it gives this little gem of a story a wonderful and palpable sense of security, of hope for the coming of spring. In many ways, The Tomten reads and feels almost like a magical lullaby, conveying peace, love and protection (like a fluffy blanket, or cozy hearth, the Tomten's words surround the reader, the listener with magic, warmth and kindness). And Harald Wiberg's luminous, at times almost mystical accompanying illustrations are a perfect complement to Astrid Lindgren's poetically warming and calming narrative, demonstrating a similar sense of peace, of magical, fairytale-like serenity. I recommend The Tomten for children interested in The Little People (and it would be the perfect bedtime story for a winter's evening, peaceful, relaxing, hopeful).
Astrid Lindgren adapted the text of The Tomten from Viktor Ryberg's 1881 poem Tomten (the gnome). Although not essential (and basically this is just my own academic curiosity speaking), I think it would have been enlightening and of interest if Lindgren had also included Viktor Ryberg's original poem as an author's note (I did finally find the poem on the internet, in its original Swedish, and with an accompanying English translation, but it took rather a bit of research). And I also wish I were fluent in Swedish and could thus read and compare this here English language translation to Astrid Lindgren's original Swedish text (The Tomten is in every way a wonderful, a lovely book, a sweet and to and for me prefect marriage of text and image, but I am always curious how translated texts, especially ones which are poetic or based on poetry, compare and hold up to the originals, and I do find it kind of strange and actually even a bit annoying that the translator is not even mentioned by name).
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While I can indeed much appreciate Katherine Paterson's Brother Sun, Sister Moon: Saint Francis' Canticle of the Creatures, her lyrical adaptation of Saint Francis of Assisi's famous 1224 A.D. Canticle of the Creatures, I still do rather wish she had kept closer to the original, I do wish she had actually translated Saint Francis' original prayerful poem instead of having adapted, instead of having "reimagined" it (since although there are more than likely many persons of today who might well want and desire to consider God as either without gender or as a combination of both male and female attributes, considering that in the original canticle, in Saint Francis' original text, God distinctly appears as male and is labeled a father figure, I for one definitely wish that Katherine Paterson had resisted making God in her version appear as both father and mother of creation, of nature, even though I personally do in fact and as an adult now consider God more as generally genderless). But honestly we all, both children and adults, should indeed be willing and able to appreciate and even enjoy the writings, the texts and narratives of the past, the words and prayers penned in bygone times, without the need for abridgements, without the necessity for having older, more ancient (and yes indeed, outdated, even potentially inappropriate) texts altered and changed to supposedly suit our modern times, cultures, sensitivities and world-views. And quite frankly, I personally have actually found the original Canticle of the Creatures, the translation of which by Bill Barrett is presented prior to the author's and illustrator's notes more moving, more consistently evocative and also as such considerably more thought-provoking and even increasingly life-affirming than Katherine Paterson's sweet but in retrospect also rather majorly tame and palely colourless adaptation (with both content and style feeling just adequate and somewhat basic compared to and with the original words, compared to Saint Francis' of Assisi’s original, delightfully stirring and strength-giving canticle of life, death, celebrating the beauty of nature, glorifying God’s creation).
Now as to Pamela Dalton's accompanying illustrations, while I have generally enjoyed them and am in fact in awe at her skill and acumen working with "Scherenschnitte" (cut paper illustrations), I do have to admit that I have always tended to find this illustrative technique more suitable for providing a so-called decorative trim and therefore often if not even more often than not at least somewhat lacking in both emotionality and movement (and therefore, while Dalton's illustrations are indeed and truly lovely to look at, interesting to ponder, for me on a personal and aesthetic level, they appear as rather starkly motionless, one dimensional and I do therefore also not really see and feel a true and ecstatic bona fide marriage of text and image presented in Brother Sun, Sister Moon: Saint Francis' Canticles of the Creature, since in fact, the minute decorativeness of the paper cuts almost tends to overtake the pages, tends to in fact even make the text, Katherine Paterson's adapted narrative fade and disappear a bit into the background). Dalton's illustrations do indeed work well enough with the latter, do work well enough with the author's printed words, but they just feel a bit flat and they as such also seem to make the adapted poetry of Brother Sun, Sister Moon: Saint Francis' Canticle of the Creatures equally feel a bit flat, if not even somewhat unspectacular.
Finally, (and perhaps a tiny bit off topic, but please bear with me), as a linguist (or at least a budding linguist), I do have to wonder if anyone else has considered and pondered why in Saint Francis' original canticle, the sun is seen as masculine (a brother), the moon is seen as feminine (a sister) and both death and the earth are also seen as feminine (as sisters), while fire is again a masculine and thus a brotherly entity. Now personally, I tend to believe that this has almost certainly something to do with what is known as grammatical gender, as ALL of the nouns that are designated as being brotherly (as being masculine) have a masculine grammatical gender in Latin (and its daughter languages of Italian, Spanish, French etc.) and ALL of the nouns designated as being sisterly (as being feminine) have a feminine grammatical gender in Latin and the other Romance languages (an interesting contrast to for example the Germanic languages, where the moon is masculine, and the sun is feminine, whereas in the Romance languages, it is the exact opposite, with the moon having a feminine article and the sun a masculine one, and the same holds true for the concept of death, which is considered feminine in Latin, Spanish, Italian and French, but has a masculine article and gender in German, and would probably have also had a masculine gender in Anglo-Saxon, in Old English). And when one then considers ancient (prehistoric) European history and mythology and that in the Greek and in the Roman pantheon, the sun was usually represented as being a god (Helios, Sol, Apollo), whilst in the Germanic and Norse pantheon, the sun (Sunna) was generally represented as being a goddess, perhaps some of the grammatical gender differences encountered within even related Indo-European languages are or at least could well be due to the original physical genders and attributes of nature and celestial deities amongst the different and varying cultures and religions of old Europe (and while these here musings really do not in fact have all that much if anything to do with the actual narrative, with the actual text of Brother Sun, Sister Moon: Saint Francis' Canticle of the Creatures I did and do find it intriguing to consider the possible reasons as to why Saint Francis has made the sun masculine, the moon feminine and even death a feminine entity).
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Well, I have always loved poetry, and I have in particular always adored lyrical songs and verses about the seasons, about spring, summer, fall and in particular my favourite season, winter. And thus I was of course massively looking forward to finally getting a chance to read Julie Fogliano's award winning When Green Becomes Tomatoes: Poems for All Seasons. But unfortunately and yes, rather sadly and frustratingly, I really did not end up enjoying or even appreciating this collection of seasonally inspired children's verses all that much (and have really only found a very select few that I personally would consider truly lyrical and special, would consider a worthy paean, an homage to the seasons, to life, growth and the glories of spring, summer, autumn and winter). But yes, I do realise and understand that poetry, that any kind of lyricism is generally, is often an intensely personal reading experience, and I was therefore right from the start not expecting to enjoy ALL of the featured poems equally (but really, from the forty or so verses, only about six of them ended up being what I would call enjoyable and meaningful to and for me, and that is not nearly enough for me to consider When Green Becomes Tomatoes as an in any way satisfying and even all that suitable anthology of collected poems).
Still and nevertheless I do appreciate and acknowledge the fact that the poems featured in When Green Becomes Tomatoes are meant for perusal by children, and I would probably (perhaps a bit grudgingly, but still probably) have considered a low three star rating for When Green Becomes Tomatoes if Julie Morstad's accompanying illustrations had been more to my personal tastes, but especially, if the author had actually used lyrically descriptive titles for her verse headings and not these mundane specific, numerical calendar dates (which are both woefully unimaginative and also kind of limit the geographic scope of the poems, for where I live, many of particularly the autumn and spring inspired inclusions do not always and actually only very very rarely fit with the calendar dates Julie Fogliano has provided for her headings, for her poetry titles).
And with regard to the accompanying illustrations, I do indeed well realise that they are colourful, adeptly conceptualised and generally very tender and sweet (and would likely as such also be a hit with and for many children). But indeed, to me and for me, Julie Morstad's pictorial offerings are simply too saccharine, too standardly traditional and stagnant, and as such generally much devoid of expressivity, and thus not ever really providing an appropriate or complementary mirror of and for the poems featured, the descriptive verbal and textual portraits of the seasons (and yes, I do have to admit that the lack of titles for the verses, or rather the fact that Julie Fogliano has as mentioned above only provided these limited and limiting calendar dates, that one salient fact alone was and remains truly enough of a personal annoyance and frustrating pet peeve for me to only consider two stars for When Green Becomes Tomatoes, its ALA Notable designation and honour totally notwithstanding).
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It is really too bad that my local public library does not have a copy of this book, but due to all of the glowing reviews and the fact that I really do very much adore folksong adaptations, I finally and successfully tried Interlibrary Loan (and then read Peter Spier’s The Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night whilst listening to Custer LaRue's magical rendition of the song, on her album Custer LaRue Sings the Daemon Lover, which I can indeed very highly recommend). And yes, the fact that the fox ventures forth at night to kill some geese in order to feed his hungry family is (in my humble opinion) a perfect point of discussion, namely, that foxes are definitely to be considered as carnivores and predators, and thus must hunt and consume meat (and one reason that foxes and wolves have such a problematic reputation is of course the fact that especially in children's literature and folklore, they have often been very deliberately described and denigrated as sneakily clever, thieving and actually evil).
Now with regard to Peter Spier’s illustrations, they are indeed evocative, descriptive and detailed, although reading The Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night to or with very young or sensitive children, the depictions of the fox running away with the moribund geese and their swinging necks could be a bit frightening and off-putting (and although I really do like the song and appreciate its lyrics, the accompanying artwork of the fox with the obviously dying geese does kind of visually bother me a trifle). And finally, while I do appreciate the fact that Peter Spier has included the lyrics and melody of the song, I do tend to think that an added author's note about this folksong’s origins and distribution would definitely be increasing the folkloric (and academic) interest and value of The Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night (I think it was originally a Middle English poem that was then transported to North America by British colonists). Still, The Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night is and remains most definitely highly recommended for both children and also for adults interested in folksongs and folksong adaptations!
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Although I do have to admit that Nancy Willard's A Visit to William Blake's Inn is fantastical, imaginative and yes, at times even rather entertaining and fun, personally, because I have NEVER really all that much been able to either enjoy or even appreciate William Blake as a poet (finding his lyric output for the most part frustratingly contrived and artificial, especially if I dare to compare Blake's verses to my two favourite British poets, namely to John Keats and A. E. Houseman), I was and remain absolutely and totally less than impressed with and by Willard's verses, which do indeed read very similarly to William Blake (but because, as already alluded to above, I really cannot stomach the latter's lyricism, the verses, the poetry of A Visit to William Blake's Inn, well, they have left me majorly cold and blah, a personal choice and a personal opinion, of course, but indeed, the same issues I have always had and experienced reading William Blake both at school and later at university with regard to words and images that feel fake, emotionless and without much beauty have been transferred to Nancy Willard, leaving a reading experience that has been at best unsatisfying and at worst majorly and sadly disappointing, albeit I do well understand that for readers and yes, also for listeners who do enjoy William Blake or who can at least appreciate him and his poetry, their reaction to A Visit to William Blake's Inn might be considerably more positive than my own has been).
And therefore, only two stars for A Visit to William Blake's Inn, as even Alice and Martin Provensen's accompanying illustrations have not really been all that much to my own, to my personal aesthetic tastes (for while I do consider them adept and brightly descriptive, the depicted images have a one-dimensional and stagnant quality to them that I for one tend to find more than somewhat visually off-putting).
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Although I am not usually a huge fan of so-called fractured “traditional” folk and fairy tales (as I do rather often tend to think that the respective authors of these types of stories would generally and basically do better and be much more imaginative creating their own and totally, completely original pieces of work rather than taking known for centuries tales and using them as the background, as the foundation), I do have to admit that Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes (and albeit that I do kind of wish the book title showed that Dahl’s presented rhyming texts are in fact based on traditional folk and diary tales) has certainly been delightfully readable, naughtily engaging and often also really laugh-out-loud funny, keeping close enough to the spirit of the original stories content wise but then textually twisting them just enough for blatant and hilarious satire and all with a featured rhyming scheme that always feels deliciously rollicking and never once awkwardly halting.
And indeed, Revolting Rhymes has most definitely left me with a wide and appreciated smile for Roald Dahl’s penmanship and satirical talents, with my favourite “revolting” renderings of the presented classical folk and fairy tales being his Cinderella and his Goldilocks and the Three Bears (with me in particular enjoying and appreciating that Dahl’s Cinderella has much more spunk and spirit than either Charles Perrault’s or the Brothers Grimm’s Cinderella, and that yes, Goldilocks is not once depicted by Roald Dahl as a sweet little girl but as a nasty piece of work who willfully breaks into the three bears’ home and basically engages in targeted vandalism).
Highly recommended and much fun is Revolting Rhymes and in my opinion a delightful way of introducing children to satire and how enjoyable satire can be.
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Absolutely magical, Shauntay Grant’s presented poetry does in her Apples and Butterflies picture book show with gracefully delightful lyricism a young African Canadian girl’s fond and almost ecstatic remembrances of a family autumn vacation to Prince Edward Island (with of course the traditional red cliffs and roads, the absolutely immense and all encompassing beauty of the sea, with Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables and of course also the apples and butterflies of the book title), a fond (and sometimes even a bit yearning) recalling of family holiday fun and togetherness in the perhaps smallest but for many also considered the most beautiful and culture and history heavy Canadian province, an enchanting text in which Shauntay Grant exuberantly remembers both the joys of family vacation time and also the often, no the always breathtaking natural wonders and beauty of P.E.I.
And accompanied by Tamara Thibaux Heikalo’s aesthetically spectacular artwork (pictures that glowingly show both the visual splendours of Prince Edward Island and yes indeed equally and just joyfully the little girl who narrates Apples and Butterflies and remembers her family’s vacation time on The Island), for me, Apples and Butterflies is actually and in fact not only a five star offering because of the sweet and full of tenderness depiction of family holidays spent on Prince Edward Island. For yes, while Apples and Butterflies can be and should be described as an “own voices” picture book (with both author and illustrator being African Canadian), I personally find it majorly cheering that Shauntay Grant’s poetic verses could really be of any ethnicity, that they are a totally generic and sweet vacation memory that ANY LOVING FAMILY might have and experience (and indeed, the only reason one even knows that Apples and Butterflies represents an African American family experience is that Tamara Thibaux Heikalo’s artwork visually portrays an African American family, and I for one think that this is in fact a strong positive, since in many ways, we have more similarities than differences and that needs to be shown with appreciation and celebration).
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Now I have indeed both enjoyed and also very much appreciated that Wallace Tripp's extensive compilation of Mother Goose nursery rhymes is both intensely tradtional and thankfully also not ever in any manner seemingly sanitised, not rendered more politically correct, more modern, so to speak. And while I certainly can understand that some if not perhaps even many of the inclusions might indeed make modern and more progressive parents potentially cringe a bit, I for one absolutely love that Granfa' Grig Had a Pig is basically entirely traditional, with the only (but to and for me still major and rather frustrating) shortcoming being a detailed folkloric author's note explaining origins and cultural considerations, which in my opinion most definitely should exist for those rhymes featuring actual or at least probable historical figures (Napoleon Bonaparte ironically appearing as a giant, that Hector Protector might represent either Oliver Cromwell or Richard Seymour, or perhaps even Richard Duke of York, who was Lord Protector under Henry VI and was killed during the Battle of Wakefield in 1460, and that Arthur O'Bower is meant more than likely to represent a combination of King Arthur and Wotan/Odin's Wild Hunt).
The accomapying illustrations (also by Wallace Tripp) are bright, colourful and often rather majorly parodistically fun and irreverent (with sometimes even much deeper and deliciously satiric meanings also thrown in, also present). And while I have indeed generally much enjoyed most of the illustrations rather equally (although I guess I could do without the inclusions of the UFOS and aliens that do appear once or twice) personally, my hands-down favourite accompanying picture of Granfa' Grig Had a Pig appears on page 87, where Wallace Tripp has clearly shown Lady Godiva (naked on a horse, with her hair covering up all of the potentially naughty bits, but still with enough bare skin showing that yes indeed, anyone can easily see that she is indeed riding nude through Coventry, and that this is perhaps also yet another cultural/historic instance that might well benefit from either a footnote or supplemental details in an author's note, as while I do know about Lady Godiva and her naked ride through the streets of Coventry to protest taxes, this should not be assumed to be the case universally, and I do have to wonder whether said illustration might indeed and well leave readers not familiar with the Lady Godiva legend with legitmate and shocked questions as to why said particular image clearly depicts a woman riding in the nude astride a horse). Three stars, and recommended (but with an adequate and in my opinion necessary author's note, I would definitely be ranking Granfa' Grig Had a Pig with four, perhaps even five stars).
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Salley Mavor's Boston Globe-Horn Book Award wining Pocketful of Posies: A Treasury of Nursery Rhymes presents and features exactly and precisely that, namely a true (and in my humble opinion) golden if not actually even platinum treasure trove of sweet delights, an enchanting compilation of a selection of traditional both American and British nursery rhymes (and oh how I am happy and appreciative that they are indeed ALL traditional). Accompanied by absolutely spectacularly lovely, intensely colourful and detailed sewn illustrations (with an interesting and appreciated artist's note that not only details how Salley Mavor proceeded to create her masterpieces but also demonstrates just how much time, effort and patience must have gone into this), I have not only totally enjoyed reading (revisiting) the included, the compiled nursery rhymes and feasting my eyes on the accompanying pictures, as someone with scant patience and absolutely NO talent whatsoever for sewing, I am also left in complete awe at how minutely detailed and full of visual information Salley Mavor's sewn and stitched scenes are. And truly, the ONLY reason why I am ranking Pocketful of Posies: A Treasury of Nursery Rhymes with four and not five stars is that I for one would also have wanted a bit of historical and cultural background information on at least some of the included rhymes presented (how for example, we now believe that Ring Around the Roses deals with the Bubonic Plague, with the Black Death, and how many of the presented nursery rhymes actually depict instances of poverty and want, such as the old woman in the shoe not knowing how to adequately feed her many children and that a simple dish of pease porridge often had to last many days).
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Rollicking, rhythmic, and fun, Robert Heidbreder's Drumheller Dinosaur Dance is in my opinion truly in many ways a simply perfect choice for young dinosaur enthusiasts (although the fact that there are indeed quite a number of somewhat advanced vocabulary choices featured might well render the author's verses a trifle too potentially difficult and advanced for especially recently independent readers to tackle Drumheller Dinosaur Dance on their own, but then again, considering that with its song/dance like rhymes and word-based fun and games, a book such as Drumheller Dinosaur Dance does generally much more seem to be destined for sharing with children and even groups of many children than for children to read this quietly and on their own, in other words, I would consider Drumheller Dinosaur Dance first and foremost if not even totally a fun and engagingly entertaining read-aloud).
Now the above having been said, I feel that I do have to reiterate and point out that Drumheller Dinosaur Dance is not in ANY way whatsoever meant to be a scientific, a factual introduction to dinosaurs as an extinct group of prehistoric animals, as the featured dinosaurs, who come out at night as skeletons to dance and frolic before once again at dawn returning to their badlands resting places under the soil, they are simply the main characters in a fun little escapist fantasy of dancing fun and a wee bit of mayhem (with Bill Slavin's and Esperanca Melo's accompanying pictures providing an enjoyable and indeed rather wonderful mirror to and for Robert Heidbreder's lively and engaging poetry). Highly recommended (but with the small caveat that while the illustrated dinosaur skeletons dancing and making a generally joyful noise are indeed visually fun and entertaining, the pictures are by the necessity of Drumheller Dinosaur Dance taking place at night, rather darkly hued, and I do wonder if very very sensitive children might also perhaps be a bit frightened of seeing dinosaur skeletons dancing, playing musical instruments, romping around and shaking their bones).
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Now while I have found some if not even a goodly number of the presented earth science themed haikus in Sally M. Walker's Earth Verse: Haiku from the Ground Up very much engaging and lyrically evocative (read successfully rendered), I personally do tend to find that the further one reads in Earth Verse: Haiku from the Ground Up, the increasingly awkward and not all that poetically inspiring anymore Walker's featured verses seem to become (in other words, the author's haikus about earthquakes, volcanoes, the atmosphere, glaciers and groundwater are in my humble and poetic opinion not nearly as lyrically expressive, as delicately nuanced and therefore also and unfortunately obviously also not as sweetly poetic as her verses regarding the earth as a planet, rocks and fossils tend to be, and that according to my personal poetical tastes and sensibilities, there is therefore somewhat of a definite and frustrating deterioration of lyrical haiku quality in Earth Verse: Haiku from the Ground Upthe closer the end of the book approaches).
And thus, while the combination of Sally M. Walker's haikus and William Grill's impressionistic illustrations presents a decent enough end product (and in conjunction with the wonderfully enlightening, informative supplemental scientific information on the earth, on its minerals, rocks, its atmospheric and geologic phenomena, as well as the appreciated list of suggestions, Earth Verse: Haiku from the Ground Up does create a both informative and poetic description and celebration of both basic and even not so basic geology and science), personally, I have just not found Sally M. Walker's featured earth verse haikus consistently lyrically accomplished enough for me to totally enjoy and love Earth Verse: Haiku from the Ground Up with no lyrical reservations (and furthermore and indeed, although I have enjoyed and appreciated William Grill's impressionistic artwork in and of itself, I also wish that he had refrained from depicting and drawing humans, that ALL of his accompanying images for Earth Verse: Haiku from the Ground Up would be visuals of rocks, minerals, volcanoes etc. as I do certainly tend to find William Grill's depicted humans a bit aesthetically strangely rendered and as such somewhat visually distracting for me).
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Absolutely marvelous! As an adult reader I totally adore the clever and delightful textual parody of Alfred Noyes' classic The Highwayman ballad (and indeed also much appreciate that with The Highway Rat, Julia Donaldson has just taken Alfred Noyes' external form and has not made her text content wise into some silly love story and her Highway Rat into a romantic type of hero, as no, that would in my opinion have made The Highway Rat annoyingly maudlin and not the engaging and so very much fun poetic parody of The Highwayman that it is).
And as a child (that is if I had read The Highway Rat as a child or had it read to me, but of course The Highway Rat was not yet available when I was a child, since it was only published in 2011), oh yes, I would have oh so much loved loved loved the Highway Rat and totally, absolutely appreciated it (with both its in many ways a bounding horseback ride imitating form and in particular its textual, verbal themes and contents) as a what I would label an inverted trickster tale, with the Highway Rat, with the cocky and oh so sure of himself and continuously bent on subterfuge, mayhem and greed villain finally meeting his match and getting his just desserts (and indeed, a pun is most definitely intended here) when he tries to rob a diminutive duck, who though not only turns the tables on him by playing up to his legendary gluttony and greed (and getting the Highway Rat hopelessly lost in an echoey cave), the duck also also takes possession of the Highway Rat's horse and rescues all of the food that had been stolen, returning all of it to the Highway Rat's victims (who share their retrieved goodies amongst themselves and have a huge party and feast, whilst the Highway Rat is lost in the echo cave, finally makes it out at the other side, and delightfully ends up throughly defeated and working at a very lowly type of cleaning job).
Combined with Axel Scheffler's brilliantly imaginative illustrations, which not only mirror Julia Donaldson's delightful engaging, entertaining (and parodistical) verses, but also visually and aesthetically sometimes even expand on them, The Highway Rat (and indeed even though I personally do not all that much enjoy stories or poems featuring anthropomorphic rodents) has definitely and certainly been a full five star book for me, a wonderful parody of Alfred Noyse and an engagingly humorous tale of trickery and standing up against bullies that also is first and foremost totally wonderful to read aloud.
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Truth be told, I was originally a bit leery of David L. Harrison's A Place to Start a Family: Poems About Creatures That Build, as far too often, I have found non fiction poetry picture books geared towards younger children, while usually informative and educational enough thematics and content-wise, poetically halting and most annoyingly, often sporting artificial and non-rhythmic rhyming schemes.
However, with A Place to Start a Family: Poems About Creatures That Build, I thankfully absolutely need not have worried. For David L. Harrison's verses always do in my opinion present themselves as poetically delightful and as such also never as textually awkward, providing a delightfully lyrical but also very much informational, educational demonstration of not only the types of nests, boroughs, webs etc. that twelve diverse animal species create (and not just mammals and birds either, but obviously from the types of "buildings" featured equally insects, fish, reptiles and even corals) but indeed at the same time also showing readers, showing children, that most if not all of the presented and described nests and the like are created first and foremost for animal offspring, for pups, larvae etc. to successfully start their lives, to grow up and later leave to build their own domiciles and start their own families.
Combined with Giles Laroche's colourfully bright and thankfully also visually realistic accompanying artwork, I have indeed throughly enjoyed reading A Place to Start a Family: Poems About Creatures That Build, with David L. Harrison's supplemental information and the fact that for each of the twelve animal species, Harrison also lists suggestions for further reading and study being not only an appreciated added academic bonus, but indeed making A Place to Start a Family: Poems About Creatures That Build in every way a solid five star book for me and one that I do most highly recommend (the only small caveat being that I do think potential readers/listeners must be willing and able to enjoy poetry in order to truly appreciate A Place to Start a Family: Poems About Creatures That Build on a verbal and language arts level).
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Presenting delightfully, sweetly engaging (albeit at the end of the book also just a wee bit saddening albeit also at the same time exquisitely positive and reassuring) acrostic seasonal poems about how trees grow and flourish and how even once they die, trees scatter their seeds etc. for new beginnings and rebirth, for the most part, I have with Poetree indeed absolutely, totally loved loved loved the evocative marriage of Caroline Pignat's emotionally-charged impressionistic lyrical verses and François Thisdale's glowingly brightly colourful, expressive artwork (wonderful both written and illustrated images of the seasons, of trees in the springtime, in summer, in autumn, in winter, simply, tenderly, luminously, a tapestry of both verbal and visual arboreal loveliness sure to enchant both young and yes also old, both children and adults).
Four stars for my general reading pleasure with regard to Poetree, with regard to how Caroline Pignat's acrostic poems and Francois Thisdale's accompanying pictures work together, but I am nevertheless still going to have to lower my final and average ranking to but three stars for Poetree. As for one, I do think that the book would certainly benefit from an author's note with information about acrostic poetry as a lyrical form and that for two (and much more problematically for and to me), I personally really do not at all appreciate that the final two illustrations (accompanying poems about winter and death) show a tree trunk that has obviously been logged, that has been cut down by humans. For really, why could the illustrator, why could François Thisdale not have depicted a tree that had simply fallen and died naturally, why did he have to draw a tree that has obviously or at least in all likelihood been logged?
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Truth be told that while for the most part, James Carter's featured poetry certainly does work very well indeed for introducing outer space and some very basic astronomy to young children (and that yes, Mar Hernández's accompanying artwork most definitely and delightfully provides a brightly colourful, fun and very much "explosive” with a bit of a visual pun in fact intended engaging aesthetic mirror to and for Carter's verses), there are unfortunately and nevertheless also more than a few of what I personally would label as lyrical wobbles located in Once Upon a Star: A Poetic Journey Through Space, verbal instances where especially Carter's rhyming scheme seems to feel awkward and sometimes even tends to disappear altogether and become blank verse.
And while this would not really be a problem in any way if the entire text of Once Upon a Star: A Poetic Journey Through Space were penned in blank verse, without rhyme, I certainly do not think that having the blank verse parts embedded within traditional rhyming poetry works all that well here, that this is just not all that successful in Once Upon a Star: A Poetic Journey Through Space . For yes, the latter (the inserted blank verse parts), they have most definitely distracted me rather a bit and made James Carter's otherwise delightful star and space based poetry feel more than somewhat awkward and choppy at times (and this could certainly be a potential reading-aloud issue, as the embedded non rhyming interludes do in my opinion create the potential for parents, librarians, teachers etc. of losing their sense of rhythm whilst reading Once Upon a Star: A Poetic Journey Through Space with or to a child or group of children). Three stars (and indeed, while I do recommend Once Upon a Star: A Poetic Journey Through Space , the fact that James Carter's poetry does sometimes feel awkward and not really sure if it is meant to be blank or traditional rhyming verses does make me a bit textually sour and frustratingly disappointed).
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Well, this medium sized and handy board book contains two picture book classics by late 19th/early 20th century German author/illustrator Sibylle von Offers. And the first offering is von Olfers’ well-known and still massively popular Etwas von den Wurzelkindern (and which is indeed and truly one of my all-time favourite German language picture books). For I loved loved loved Etwas von den Wurzelkindern (the English translation of which is titled The Story of the Root Children) as a young child (and have very fond memories of both of my grandmothers reading it to me), and even now, as an older adult, I still both appreciate and massively enjoy Sibylle von Olfers’ simple, poetic text and her accompanying luminous "Jugendstil" type illustrations. And von Olfers' masterpiece absolutely represents a glowing, loving homage to spring, youth, rebirth, joy, and the tender care Mother Earth gives to all. Furthermore, for a picture book originally published in 1906, Etwas von den Wurzelkndern is also and equally truly a lasting gem that in my humble opinion remains remarkably fresh, and is still a perennial favourite and bestseller in Germany, Austria and Switzerland. It represents and shows soul-nourishment for both children and adults (and I can actually recite most of the verses from memory, that is how much I adore Etwas von den Wurzelkindern, that is how much it personally means and continues to mean to and for me).
Now aside from Etwas von den Wurzelkindern, I had not in fact read any of Sibylle von Olfers' other picture books, and I was thus rather excited and delighted to locate this here board book, as it features a second poetic interlude, the author's Prizeßchen im Walde (Princess in the Forest in English). But unfortunately and a bit sadly for me, while the illustrations of a little woodland princess' day in the forest are, indeed, evocative, glowing and pure Sibylle von Olfers magic, I find the narrative, the text, while definitely lyrical and sweetly cadenced, a bit troublesome content-wise. Yes, I do realise that Prinzeßchen im Walde is by necessity of its publication date of 1909 a bit dated with regard to gender roles (as is Etwas von den Wurzelkindern as well to a point, for that matter), but the entire premise of the princess being basically catered to, being continuously served by her forest subjects, leaves me more than a bit uncomfortable. And really, except for when the princess is learning her lessons, she is almost entirely passive (the dew maidens dress her, the moss lads serve her breakfast, the mushroom children have to entertain her with fairy tales). A bit more activity and some actual responsibilities and duties for the little princess would be much appreciated, because as it stands now, she is basically mollycoddled and for all intents and purposes a bit spoiled by her subjects (who in Prinzeßchen im Waldemar are really only her servants and nothing more). Not a bad story by any means, and I did quite enjoy Prinzeßchen im Walde, but especially narrative content wise it is by no means even remotely equal to Etwas von den Wurzelkindern (and yes, if I had young children, while I would certainly not hesitate reading Prinzeßchen im Walde to them, I would also and definitely be discussing the to me obvious and potentially problematic social stratification and role issues I have noticed and also why Sibylle von Olfers might have presented the little forest princess in this type of manner). Four stars as an average rating (with five glowing stars for Etwas von den Wurzelkindern but only three a bit grudging stars for Prinzeßchen im Walde and with a bit of a caveat as well)!
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Although I have certainly enjoyed reading in Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave how Dave is imagined by author Laban Carrick Hill creating and forming his distinctive pottery, and indeed how he, how Dave, is clearly and sweetly lyrically shown to obviously also achieve and receive very much personal fulfilment, pleasure and even joy from his art, I am sorry, but there is nevertheless just a certain something about Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave and in particular regarding Laban Carrick Hill's presented text which really does tend to make me more than a bit personally uncomfortable.
For albeit that Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave certainly does once or twice within the text proper mention Dave's status as a slave, I for one do not think that Laban Carrick Hill focussing with his lyrical verses almost entirely on Dave the artist and really almost never on Dave the slave is (and especially in a book published in 2010) the politically correct way to proceed. Because yes, it certainly does seem (to and for me) as though Laban Carrick Hill is rather whitewashing the realities and horrors of slavery when he with Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave focusses so exclusively on Dave's pottery and his artistic talents that one does kind of feel as though the author, as though Hill is (even if likely inadvertently) saying that Dave the Potter's slavery is not really so much of an issue, that the ONLY thing really of actual and real bona fide significance is that Dave was a talented artist, potter and poet.
And while Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave is certainly and definitely a lyrical celebration of Dave's artistry and of his attitudes towards his pottery being very much his life, with Bryan Collier's Caldecott Honour winning accompanying artwork totally visually and aesthetically reflecting and mirroring Laban Carrick Hill's poetry, for me, the decided lack of focus in Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave on Dave's life as a slave and that Hill (and by extension also Collier) really are for the most part only concentrating on Dave's pottery and how he artistically sees himself and the world, this has certainly rather lessened my reading pleasure, and thus, only a rather grudging three star rating for Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave (because I really also desire to know about Dave’s life and his limitations as a slave, and yes, within Laban Carrick Hill’s actual poetry and not just in the supplemental information section).
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Indeed, Frog Went a-Courtin' is what I would loudly as well as with much personal conviction declare an in all ways perfect and engagingly marvellous marriage of text and images. For yes, the by author John Langstaff adapted narrative, the featured folksong text (which is rollicking, silly and fun and basically a successful and richly delightful combination of many of the different Frog Went a-Courtin traditions of lore) is supremely and magically complemented and complimented by Feodor Rojankovsky's bright and sweetly descriptive accompanying illustrations (and yes, I can certainly both understand and massively appreciate why and how this book won the Caldecott Medal for the latter, for Feodor Rojankovsky). And the informative author's note at the back of Frog Went a-Courtin' is also and additionally a much appreciated and massively enjoyed added bonus for and to me (especially since so so many early adaptations of folksongs, folklore and the like often do not contain these), although personally, I would indeed have appreciated a bit of a bibliography and some suggestions for further reading as well (but that is really mostly my academic self talking and probably way above and beyond the scope of Frog Went a-Courtin' and in NO way meant as a criticism either). And for me, what ultimately has clinched a five star rating for Frog Went a-Courtin' (and also a place on my favourites shelf) is the fact that John Langstaff also includes a musical score, one of the many tunes for the ballad, and according to Langstaff, the easiest one he knows. Most highly recommended, and not just for children either!
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Although I do indeed much appreciate that ALL of the animals stalked and caught in John Langstaff's Oh, A-Hunting We Will Go adaptation are released (and that in the end, everything is actually portrayed as having been entirely make-believe anyhow), on an purely personal level, I do rather consider the whole concept of a group of youngsters basically hunting and apprehending diverse animals as some kind of a fun and diverting pastime and sport as at best more than a bit troubling (and while the intended audience, while young children might well laugh with glee at the irrationality and the fun rhyming sequences of the presented lyrics, of for example putting a whale in a pail, placing a bear in underwear and a skunk into a bunk, as an adult reader who is generally rather against hunting except for basic sustenance, the entire song sequence of Oh, A-Hunting We will Go actually does kind of if not even totally rub me the wrong way). And no, Nancy Winslow Parker's accompanying illustrations also do not much help. For while they are definitely descriptive, expressive, bright and cheerful, they are also entirely too cartoon-like for my personal tastes (and the boxed in fox watching TV and the pig wearing a for all intents and purposes French looking hair whig, while I guess that probably these images might indeed be visually appealing to and for the intended audience, they do leave me rather cold and not all that aesthetically satisfied, not to mention also annoyed at Nancy Winslow Parker’s illustrated silliness). But the above having all been said, and especially my personal issues with the depiction of hunting as something fun and entertaining notwithstanding, I was indeed still rather intent and even planning on giving Oh, A-Hunting We Will Go a low and perhaps also bit grudging three star rating until I noticed that unlike many of John Langstaff's other folksong adaptations, while there is an appreciated musical score provided, no further supplemental information on either the genesis of the original song or its development, proliferation and transmission have been provided (and this being enough of a disappointment and folkloric shortcoming for me to now only consider and give but a two star rating to Oh, A-Hu(ting We Will Go).
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Just like with David L. Harrison's A Place to Start a Family: Poems About Creatures That Build, I was originally also and equally more than a bit leery of his Now You See Them, Now You Don't: Poems About Creatures that Hide as yes, I have certainly found non fiction poetry picture books geared towards younger children, while usually informative and educational enough thematics and content-wise, often poetically halting, awkward and lyrically choppy.
However, with Now You See Them, Now You Don't: Poems About Creatures that Hide I once again and thankfully absolutely need not have worried. For David L. Harrison's verses do all in my opinion present themselves as poetically delightful (with a continuously melodic sense of lyrical rhythm and also and very much appreciatively never appearing as awkward or non-existent with and in their rhyming schemes) and thus totally and wonderfully providing a not only delightfully poetic but also very much informational, educational demonstration of not only the many ways in which animals hide and disguise themselves (and in Now You See Them, Now You Don't: Poems About Creatures that Hide the presented animal poems are divided into sea life, reptiles and amphibians, mammals, insects and spiders and finally birds) but David L. Harrison also shows and demonstrates (by his verses) that animals hide for many different reasons, that both predators and prey make use of camouflage and mimicry, with animal subterfuge being utilised to both facilitate hunting and escaping from being hunted, from being pounced upon and eaten.
Combined with Giles Laroche's colourfully bright and thankfully also visually realistic accompanying artwork, I have indeed throughly enjoyed reading Now You See Them, Now You Don't: Poems About Creatures that Hide, with David L. Harrison's supplemental information and the fact that he also lists a number of book suggestions for further reading and study being not only an appreciated added academic bonus, but indeed making Now You See Them, Now You Don't: Poems About Creatures that Hide in every way a solid five star book for me and one that I do most highly recommend (the only small caveat being that I do think potential readers/listeners must be both willing and able to enjoy poetry in order to truly appreciate Now You See Them, Now You Don't: Poems About Creatures that Hide on a verbal and language arts level).
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Although a few of author Shauna LaVoy Reynolds' presented verses do feel a bit artificial and therefore also rather forced (or at least, they have felt that way to my eyes and to my ears and this is why my average rating for Poetree is three and as such not yet four stars), I still do both much appreciate as well as enjoy how Poetree celebrates not only words (poems) but also the seasons, trees and yes indeed, how both Sylvia and Walt's mutual love of poetry (and springtime) encourages and cements their friendship (well actually, more how their erstwhile shyness and awkwardness with and towards one another is erased by the fact that both have been writing poems to one particular tree). Combined with Shahrzad Maydani's soft and generally visually much appealing accompanying artwork, which especially with her use of soft pastels of green and yellow does aesthetically provide a truly lovely and delightful mirror of the author's, of Shauna LaVoy Reymolds' narrative, of both her poetry and her prose (although I do wish that Matt's shorts did always not look so much like he is wearing just underpants), I have certainly very much enjoyed Poetree and would definitely warmly recommend it as a sweet and tender tale of springtime, poetry and emerging friendship (and yes of course Poetree also presents and features a total and delightful celebration of trees in general and that they indeed are perfect harbingers of spring and something to and about which poems often are written and in my humble opinion also should be written, as yes, trees are in my opinion also much more long-lasting than flowers and generally like basic clockwork always welcome the spring every year with new buds and lush greenly hued, delicately fragranced leaves).
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I totally and utterly adore birds and yes, from a textual and poetic point of departure, Michael J. Rosen's The Cuckoo's Haiku: And Other Birding Poems is most definitely a five star ranking for me (with the author's presented haikus not only totally and utterly capturing the majesty and beauty of the presented avian species but also delightfully glorifying and celebrating the four seasons of spring, summer, autumn and fall). Gracefully and expressively accompanied by Stan Fellows' realistically sparkling but also imaginatively descriptive bird illustrations (which also and very much appreciatively list especially many of the physical attributes of the given poeticised presented species right in with the depicted and shown birds), I have indeed and absolutely both totally appreciated and enjoyed if not massively loved the magical, lyrical and factual combination of Michael J. Rosen's gorgeously poetical avian haikus and Stan Fellows' delightfully realistic yet still luminously imaginative visuals.
And indeed, the only reason that The Cuckoo's Haiku: And Other Birding Poems is a four star and not yet a five star book for me is that although yes, I have very much enjoyed perusing the informative supplemental detail blurbs on each of the twenty-four bird species at the back of The Cuckoo's Haiku: And Other Birding Poems, I really do not all that much understand (considering that all of said presented information is mostly zoologic and biologic in scope and thematics) why author Michael J. Rosen has not also included a bibliography with suggestions for further reading (and perhaps also listing a few current birding websites, as these not only often feature interesting avian facts but often also provide important tips on how to be a successful and environmentally responsible birder, how to observe wild birds without unduly stressing them).
Mod
Now the twenty feline-themed haikus in Michael J. Rosen's The Maine Coon's Haiku: And Other Poems for Cat Lovers are certainly one and all interesting, lyrical, evocatively expressive and do as such they also (in my opinion) totally and sweetly always capture and distill the distinct personalities and behaviour patterns of each of the presented breeds (except I will have to admit that I only really understood the Ragdoll Cat haiku when I read that it is hilariously based on Michael Rosen's own Ragdoll Cat Slinky, who one day and completely out of the blue so to speak, decided to tear up and decimate the leaves of the houseplant under which leaves it had slept many years).
And while I have definitely enjoyed all of the haikus of The Maine Coon's Haiku: And Other Poems for Cat Lovers, I guess that my absolute favourite must be the Birman Cat offering (which just so totally makes me smile, as the presented verses not only makes it seem as though the Birman Cat's solitary fun with knitting wool is like a baseball game but also rather strongly and nostalgically reminds me of many of our own family cats which also usually loved loved loved to play ball with threads and knitting wool). Accompanied by Lee Anthony White's descriptive and lush illustrations (that focus visually on the personalities and characters of the presented cat breeds in every way as tenderly and as imaginatively as do Michael J. Rosen's haikus, with especially the eyes of the twenty felines feeling like one is looking right into their very souls), The Maine Coon's Haiku: And Other Poems for Cat Lovers is in my opinion the perfect poetry book for cat enthusiasts (both young and old). And yes, the only reason I am not ranking The Maine Coon's Haiku: And Other Poems for Cat Lovers with five stars is that while I do appreciate the supplemental factual details and information on each of the featured feline breeds at the back of the book, I really wish that Michael J. Rosen had also included a bibliographical list of suggestions for further study and reading (and yes indeed, it also does tend to bother me just a wee bit that the author does not ever point out in any of his outside cat haikus that felines are really better off inside and that especially stray feral cats can and do often play major ecological havoc with especially native songbird populations).
Children's Books
Books mentioned in this topic
Ode to Underwear (other topics)Great Gusts: Winds of the World and the Science Behind Them (other topics)
A Visit from St. Alphabet (other topics)
With My Hands: Poems About Making Things (other topics)
Today We Are Brother and Sister (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Arnold Adoff (other topics)Eloise Greenfield (other topics)
Lee Bennett Hopkins (other topics)
Amiri Baraka (other topics)
Gwendolyn Brooks (other topics)
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In the Picture Book Club we have covered Poetry in previous years, so these threads may be of interest to you if you are looking for picture books with poetry:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
This current thread will remain open and I encourage posting throughout the year, not just in April for Poetry Month. I'd like to thank co-mod Cheryl for starting the Poetry folder and for her help and guidance with the threads as poetry is not my forte though certainly something I appreciate and want to read more of and share more with my own children.