Just when you need some rocket-powered unicorns to make it through the day...

An Awesome Book by Dallas Clayton

And it really is! This self-published gem came to my attention last year at the BCLA conference, courtesy of a fellow children's librarian. The story is all about dreaming big, and it's perfectly lovely, but the illustrations are what blow the roof off my popsicle stand.

The spread of pink rocket-powered unicorns (variously wearing basketball jerseys, scuba gear, or riding mini-skateboards) is worth the price of admission alone:


You can see the entire book online here, but this is a book worth holding in your hands. I think it could have ended about half way through (the rhyming verse gets a little long-winded and didactic near the end), but it still steals my heart every time I lay eyes on it. Check this one out for sure. And if you just want to look at rocket-powered unicorns all day, you can even buy the poster here. And while you're shopping, check out the cause that your purchases support. Very cool all around.

The Amber Spyglass

I've just, at long last, finished reading The Amber Spyglass, the final book in the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman. I refused to read it until I had some time off because I wanted to sink right in and live in the book for a while without having somewhere else I needed to be. It's hard to believe the series gets better and more complex as it goes on, but it does. I am too stunned to write any kind of a review of this book (not that the world needs another one) except to say that it's one of the best I've ever read. It's been a long time since I felt that bereft at having to close a book and leave a world behind. If you haven't read it (and you like fantasy even a little bit), I'm jealous.

What a lovely lovely treat. I hope the movie doesn't suck, but the movie website is fun (although a little hard and slow to navigate). Plus you can find out what your daemon is. I did. What do you think? See the post below...

(I'm not sure about the modest part.)

Indigo's Star

McKay, Hilary. Indigo's Star. London, Hodder Children's Books, 2003.

McKay, Hilary. Permanent Rose. London, Hodder Children's Books, 2005.

An absent father, school bullying, shoplifting, physical disabilities, a mother who keeps keeps forgetting to shop for food and often sleeps in the garden shed, shocking news about an unknown father, a hospitalized younger sister - the makings of a serious, moving, gritty novel for children? Not at all. In this series about the inimitable Casson family, humour is the name of the game. The writing is clever, fun, and endlessly entertaining, but the topics are not always lightweight. This series of books has a particularily British sensibility, where nothing is sacred when it comes to material for humour. Even though these aren't overly controversial books, this sense of irreverence is part of the appeal.

The Casson family is quirky. The children are all named after paint colours - Permanent Rose, Indigo, Caddy (Cadmium Yellow), and Saffron. Bill Casson, their artist father, has left to live in a quiet and immaculate flat in London. Their mother, Eve Casson, isn't very domestically-inclined and spends most of her time in the garden shed painting commisioned pictures of dead pets. Saffron suntans naked behind a wall of hamsters in the back yard and beats up bullies for her younger brother Indigo. Eight year old Rose draws giant pictures on the kitchen wall and sends desperate letters to her father hoping for a crisis big enough to bring him home. Caddy has moved out but brings home a string of hopeless temporary boyfriends in an effort to decide if her real love Michael really is as perfect as everyone thinks.

The Casson family is eccentric, but not hard to identify with. Each book focuses on the story of one central character, but the ongoing storylines of the other siblings continue in the background providing continuity between the books and appeal for a wide range of ages. In Indigo's Star, for instance, twelve year-old Indigo's daily terror at the hands of school bullies is about to change forever when Tom arrives from America with his red bouncing ball and utter disregard for authority. But this central storyline is woven in, at a hectic pace, with the continuing dramas of all other members of the eccentric family.

I am not generally a fan of humorous novels (for children or adults) as I often find them a little too light-weight for my taste, but there was something about the tone of this book that I found very appealing. I enjoyed that nothing seemed out of the reaches of humour, but that real content was not sacrificed for the sake of a quick laugh. I can't help wondering whether a book like this would have come out of North America.

Dear Canada: Brothers Far From Home

I decided it was finally time for me to bite the bullet and read one of the Dear Canada books that are so popular with a particular set of girls these days. I can tell you I wasn't looking forward to it. Not only did the intensity of the series marketing make me a little ill, but the form itself (diary entries with lots of "dear reader" direct addresses) isn't, and never was, a favourite of mine. But Jean Little is no small potatoes in Canadian children's lit and I was interested to see what all the fuss was about. I must admit that I didn't have a conversion experience after which I suddenly enjoy the diary-novel, but I was impressed by what Jean Little was able to accomplish within the form. It took about a third of the book for me to stop being distracted by the format, but after that I found myself drawn into the story and eagerly waiting to see how the events of Eliza's life would unfold.

Little, Jean. Brothers Far From Home: The World War I Diary of Eliza Bates, Uxbridge Ontario, 1916. Markham, ON: Scholastic Canada, 2003.

The year is 1916 and the Great War is the first thing on most people's minds in Uxbridge, Ontario. When twelve-year old Eliza Bates starts writing in her new Christmas diary, her biggest concern is her infuriating older sister Verity. Before she fills the final pages on Christmas day exactly two years later, Eliza will have documented the everyday trials of a family in war-time, sibling bonds and grievances, the unthinkable losses of a family with two sons away at war, and the life-affirming surprises that weave their way into even the most difficult times.

Following the template that has garnered such commercial success for the Dear Canada series, this book is told in first person diary entries, follows the life of a young Canadian girl as it is affected by events on the world stage, and is presented in a hard-cover diary-like form complete with matching ribbon bookmark. But part of the success of the series has also been Scholastic's choice of authors from among the very best of Canadian children's writers, and Jean Little is no exception.

Other than extensive research, Little's strength here is her use of character to ground the larger drama in the life of a single girl. The story's immersion in the events and flavour of the historical period is complete and convincing, but the focus is on their relevance to one family and to a single child trying to find her way through a difficult time. Eliza's character and the drama within her own family circle act as effective entry points to larger world events. The tangible and believable changes in Eliza's character over the two years also give the story a satisfying narrative arc and move the story beyond a simple tool of historical curiosity to a real coming-of-age story.

The language is noticeably more formal than a contemporary diary voice, and the diction is constant reminder of the era. The narrative makes several passing mentions of other historical events that die-hard Dear Canada fans will enjoy tracing back to other books in the series, such as the Halifax harbour explosion (No Safe Harbour: The Halifax Explosion Diary of Charlotte Blackburn, Halifax, Nova Scotia, 1917). The book also includes end-notes with more in-depth historical background and photos from the time of the First World War.

For fans of the series, or those who love to read in the diary format, this book is sure to be an instant hit. But even for those who are less convinced about the series and format, this book is well-written enough that it just may surprise some readers if they can get beyond the distraction of the form.

The Crazy Man

Porter, Pamela. The Crazy Man. Toronto: House of Anansi Press, 2005.

Farming in southern Saskatchewan has never been easy, but things go from bad to worse when a gruesome farming accident leaves twelve-year old Emaline Bitterman with a permanently injured leg, a dead dog, and a father who isn’t coming home. Unable to seed this year’s crop on her own, Emaline’s mother makes arrangements a man from the local mental institution to come help in the fields. The neighbours and townspeople are afraid of Angus, but Emaline sees another person struggling to recover from loss and family betrayal.

Unabashedly set in small-town Saskatchewan, the book offers a rich portrait of a farming community struggling to survive a period of dry weather and low wheat prices in the 1960s. The book is also steeped in the larger social and political landscape of the era, with references to Tommy Douglas, Marin Luther, King, the Wheat Board, and the Soviets.

The story doesn’t provide a happily-ever-after on the outside; instead, the narrative arc follows Emaline’s personal struggle to come to terms with her losses. Though the events of the story are difficult, the story itself is not depressing. The tone is hopeful, and the story celebrates the human ability to heal from hurt. Emaline embodies that innocent lack of prejudice often bestowed on child protagonists, but Porter manages to make this interaction convincing and utterly believable.

When someone introduced this book using the phrases “novel in verse” and “appeal for reluctant readers” in the same sentence, I have to say that I was entirely unconvinced. Once I started reading, however, I finished the story in a single sitting. It was compelling, moving and surprising easy to read. The free verse form is used here as a tool to sharpen and condense the language, heighten the emotion and point-of-view of the protagonist, and weed out any extraneous detail or description. The language isn’t “flowery” as some poetry-avoiders might fear, but whittled down to the essentials. Plot, voice, character (and even a sense of place) shine through with an immediacy that makes the book highly readable, while the short lines and 2-3 page sections make the text easier to scan.

Even though the cover is beautiful and the pages nicely designed, this book might be a hard sell to less committed readers, especially with any mention of poetry. A “novel in free verse” sounds unfortunately close to something good for your health. This is unfortunate since The Crazy Man is one of the most compelling and readable books of realistic historical fiction I’ve read. If it hadn’t already won the Governor General’s, the TD Book Award and the Geoffrey Bilson Award for Historical Fiction, I would predict a sweep of prestigious awards for this book.

The Thief Lord

Funke, Cornelia. The Thief Lord. The Chicken House, 2003.

Will I get kicked out of the club if I admit that I was not reading under the covers to finish this highly-acclaimed fantasy book by German kids' lit rockstar Cornelia Funke?

Let me backtrack to say that this is undoubtedly a fantastic, well-written and clearly well-loved book. And that I did enjoy it and will certainly recommend it highly. But, given all the hype, I expected to be staying up way past my bedtime and was somewhat disappointed to just enjoy it. Something about it just didn't speak to the part of me that can get absolutely lost in children's and YA fantasy. Perhaps it just isn't fair to read any book so soon after Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy.

This book centers on the story of two siblings who have run away from their nasty aunt, Esther Hartlieb, who wants to adopt only the younger five year-old Bo but not his twelve year-old brother Prosper. Not wanting to be separated, the boys run away to Venice where they meet up with a motley group of children who live in an abandoned movie theatre and are supported by the loot of the mysterious "Thief Lord."

The children soon find themselves on the run from a Victor, a determined sleuth hired by their aunt, who turns out to be more interesting than he first appears. Things get even more complicated when the secretive "Conte" hires the Thief Lord and his gang of children to steal a strange wooden wing that holds the key to unlocking the unworldly powers of an old merry-go-round.

This is the classic orphan story - exploring the world of children living without adults, the theme of age and youth, and the search for a new family in which to belong. It is highly readable, and has a giant fan-base of young readers, but somehow it failed to capture the adult reader in me that still wants to be carried away by "children's" novels. It wasn't the neatly tied-up happy ending, because I didn't wait until the end to become slightly dis-engaged, but maybe something more to do with a lack of depth and involvement in individual characters or the particular flavour of light but action-packed adventure. I'm not sure. I do have a sense, however, that this is more a matter of personal taste than a reflection of the quality of the writing.

His Dark Materials

Pullman, Philip. The Golden Compass. New York: Random House, 1996.

Why has it taken me so long to read Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy? This is fantasy at its best, the rare kind of writing that comes recommended with equal zeal from Blake scholars, adults looking for a good read, and children. This is un-put-downable, thought-provoking, beautiful writing (yes - you can have all three!).

In an alternate but parallel world, Lyra lives with the scholars of Oxford who have taken care of her since both her parents died. Or so she has always been told. A series of events lead her north to a land of snow, armoured polar bears, witches, a secret research station, and the answers to her questions about the disappearances of local children. After she discovers the horrible truth about her mother, she is determined to find her father and help him with his esoteric work involving that strange substance, the Dust, that is the source of so much conflict and fear. But she is soon to discover that the world is so much more complicated than she ever understood. And meanwhile, unbeknownst to her, everyone is watching Lyra to see if she will fulfill the destiny that has been foretold for her.

Borrowing heavily from Paradise Lost and Blake's ideas of Innocence and Experience, the story is dense and intellectually compelling while still remaining immensely readable. I'm sure I've missed more literary references than I've caught, but still I don't feel at all shut out of the story. On the contrary, this feels like an incredibly accessible book. But also the kind of book that will most surely do more for renewing current readership of Milton and Blake than any other publication in recent years (as a new edition of Paradise Lost, with forward by Pullman, will attest).

But as I make my way into the third book in the trilogy (currently and tragically on hold as homework calls), I can't help but wonder whether a book that so openly describes warring and corrupt factions of the church, and challenges ideas of religion and authority, would have come out of the United States. It was also interesting that in a story of good and evil, the sides are not easily divided - though there is clearly good, there are also many evils warring with each other, and various players will take sides with whatever faction will help them most at a moment in time. Is there more room in British publishing and culture for this kind of open and critical engagement with the world in children's literature? I like the respect that this book implies for its readership of all ages, the unwillingness to dumb-down ideas, the big questions it asks. I also like the fast pace of the action, the intricacies of plot, and the suspense that kept me reading far past my bedtime.

I'm still waiting to see where it's all heading... Excruciating to wait.

The People Could Fly

Hamilton, Virginia. The People Could Fly. Illus. Leo and Diane Dillon. New York: Knopf, 2004.

Recommended by a classmate who remembered the original story from a collection of the same name, this stand-alone illustrated version of The People Could Fly is truly an extraordinary picture book. A powerful re-telling of a mythic tale set in the days of slavery, this story begins in Africa with people who could fly but who lose their wings when they are forced onto a slave ship. When conditions become horrific on the plantation, an old man remembers the words that magically allow his people to fly again. First a woman with a baby who is beaten by the whip-wielding Driver, then a young man who collapses in the heat, and eventually the whole group of people who once had the power to fly are released by the man's magic words and escape into the sky far from the reaches of the Overseer and the plantation. Those others who could not fly are left behind, but pass the strange and miraculous story on through the generations. The paintings that illustrate the story are beautiful without shying away from the brutal history of slavery. And even amidst such explicit suffering, the story ends on a note of hope and wonder. Excerpts from the author's letter and notes, from the original collection of stories published in 1985, give additional and very interesting background information about the story and the folklore tradition from which it comes.

The unflinching but accessible language, combined with the the power of the story and the telling, make this a book that is possible to read to a younger audience but still very compelling to an older one. A winner of the Coretta Scott King Award.

The Friends

Yumoto, Kazumi. The Friends. Translated by Cathy Hirano. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1996. [Originally published in Japanese in 1992].

When Yamashita goes to his grandmother's funeral, he is the first of the three friends to see a dead body and the event ignites a strange fascination with death for the group of friends. Following the inimitable logic of twelve-year old boys, the three friends begin spying on an old man in the hopes of catching the moment when he dies so they can all see exactly what a dead body looks like.

Kirkus Reviews (as quoted on the back cover) calls the book "a Japanese Stand By Me," and I was determined to disagree with what seemed like a glib cultural translation of a Japanese novel into something recognizable for a North American audience. But as I read the story I had to admit that there was an uncanny similarity in both the tone and content of the story. If Stand By Me was set in a Japanese city in the last summer before junior high school, and the journey took place in a series of visits (squished into the spaces between "cram school" and soccer camp) to an old man's house... There is the same playful exchange of insults between friends, conflict with the rival group of boys from school, a shared and ongoing obsession with death, enough of a sense of danger and risk to give the feeling of a journey into the unknown, and those occasional moments of honesty between boys when toughness and bravado give way to reveal closely guarded vulnerabilities and uncertainties.

What results is a quirky, moving, surprisingly gentle coming-of-age story about friendship, death, and discovery. In the midst of enormous pressure to do well on the upcoming tests that will determine what stream of junior high schools they attend, the boys begin to develop an understanding of the world that has nothing at all to do with school. Kiyama, Kawake and Yamashita are poised on the balance point between childhood and something new. As always, the inevitable changes that will soon send them in different directions are part of what make this last summer of childhood that much more poignant.

The translation feels seamless, and the prose is that rare creature which manages to be subtle, straightforward and unsentimental, yet emotionally resonant. I was unprepared to be find myself starting to cry at several small scenes in the middle of a nearby coffee shop as I read the book in a single sitting.

The descriptions of death, bodies and cremation are matter-of-fact - down to details about picking out the bones from the ashes in the crematorium with chopsticks to put them in the urn - probably more so than most North American novels for the same age group. But the idea of death is approached with that particular combination of fear and fascinated curiosity that is so recognizably that of a twelve-year old mind.

This is an amazing book - immensely readable, believable and likable. No surprise at all that it won the Batcherlder Award for translated children's books.

The Wonder in Water

Swanson, Diane. The Wonder in Water. Toronto: Annick Press, 2005.

This book focuses on water in many of its different forms, providing some basic facts about the important role it plays both in human life and in the surrounding environment, and then exploring some of the more extraordinary facts and phenomena related to water. Because the subject is broken into discrete topics (like sweat, puddles, rain, and marshes) the book doesn’t do a great job of talking about the water cycle itself although the connections are mentioned in passing within the text of each section. These mini-chapters also don’t always focus on the topic named: The “sweat” section, for instance, acts more as an introduction with general facts about the importance of water to human survival and the amount of water in the polar ice caps. The strength of the book is in the outrageous and fascinating facts described, such as the turtle that once fell inside a giant hail ball or the phenomenon of rain-delivered slime mold that can move across fields or up telephone poles. The photographs are appealing and informative, the design is attractive and contemporary looking, the tone of the text is conversational and accessible, but the overall organization doesn't appear conducive to an overall understanding of the topic. Where this book shines is its ability to invoke wonder at the natural world. There are no sources for the information which, considering the extraordinary nature of the facts, is a little disapointing but probably not uncommon for books aimed at such a young audience.

** out of 4

Looking at other reviews:

Hazel Rochman's review (Booklist via Amazon.com) seems more positive than mine, but does also focus on the extraordinary facts as the main strength of the book. She also highlights the "chatty" tone of the narrative as a positive feature, especially for read-alouds, whereas I found the tone conversational but a little condescending or overdone in places.

Elaine Fuhr's review for CM was even more positive (giving the book 3 1/2 stars out of four), but she focuses on the same sense of wonder and the "wow" factor produced by this extraordinary collection of facts.

Transformed: How everyday things are made

Slavin, Bill. Transformed: How everyday things are made. Toronto, ON: Kids Can Press, 2005

Award-winning picture-book illustrator Bill Slavin has brought his considerable talents to bear on a well-chosen and engaging topic – the hidden manufacturing process by which familiar objects are created. This over-sized book has everything that makes the new generation of information books for kids both popular and successful: The subject matter is both easy to relate to and fascinating; the pages are well-designed and appealing, the information is broken into small easy-to-read chunks that are clearly arranged, and the illustrations are both informative and humorous. The everyday objects are divided into categories, and each is presented on a separate two-page spread with consistent design elements. The page begins in the top left hand corner with a title and a brief but enthusiastic introduction to the object at hand that doesn’t focus on the manufacturing process but rather provides an amusing and engaging anecdote (often historical) to introduce the reader to the object itself. The page is dominated by an illustration of the stages of production, each of which is described by one or two sentences. These small blocks of text are spread out over the pages but numbered to suggest a clear sequence of reading, which is helpful considering they are not in any obvious visual order. There are also fun facts in sidebars, but not so many as to overwhelm the visual balance of the page or push the reader into information overload. Especially pleasing is the white background of the pages that allows the illustrations to shine, while paring down on the visual clutter that can make information books difficult to read. Slavin’s cartoon-like watercolour illustrations, which feature comically miniature people working on larger than life objects, bring a whimsical sense of humour to the project while managing to effortlessly convey a great deal of technical information (including cross-sections and magnifications). The information is supported by a table of contents, glossary, index and some suggestions for further study, as well as some notes on who helped research the information (but no actual sources). Part of the joy of this book is that the objects themselves are things that will be familiar to most readers, like baseballs or CDs or breakfast cereal, but the information about how they are made is likely to be new to children and adults alike. The information is clear and succinct, but not dumbed-down. The writing and illustrations both convey a sense of wonder and fascination, and will help foster an ongoing interest about the science of everyday objects that will extend far past the pages of the book. In the ever-increasingly popular world of information books for children, this is as good as it gets.

****/4

Looking at other reviews:

Gail Hamilton's review in CM also gives the book a similarily positive review, and focuses on some of the same aspects of the book such of the finessing of the balance between too much and too little information, the effective use of humour in the illustrations, and the additional resources. She uses several examples from the book which I liked since it gave me a better sense of the actual content of the book.

GraceAnne DeCandido's review (Booklist via Amazon.com) is also generally positive but points out some small historical inaccuracies I would not have been able to catch without fact-checking.

Thieves: Ten stories of surprising heists, comical capers and daring escapades

Schroeder, Andreas. Thieves: Ten stories of surprising heists, comical capers and daring escapades. Annick Press, 2005.

From the theft of the Mona Lisa to the story of an 18th century French cleric who stole and ate 15 files per week to prevent innocent people from being executed, this book offers up gripping stories of real-lives thieves from the past 150 years. The stories are dramatized in suspenseful prose that splits the difference between storytelling and journalism, offering both the historical facts and the unanswered questions for consideration. The book starts with an introduction that briefly highlights some of the stranger stories of theft in history and gives a sense of the breadth of professional thievery, and ends with the sources for this and the ten central stories. With ten years of experience reporting on famous hoaxes and scams for a national radio program, Schroeder is the perfect candidate to author a book on this topic, and he pulls it off well.

Considered in the context of the buzz about information books as excellent resources for enticing reluctant readers or supporting those learning a new language, this book does not entirely fit the model. The book is entirely text-based and so, other than the factual origins of the stories, this book resembles many fiction books. The fact that it is divided into ten short sections may make it less intimidating to read than a novel, but generally it does not have the initial appeal of many informational books based on their highly visual format, small accessible blocks of text, and appealing graphic layout. This may be partly since the book appears to be aimed at an older audience, probably up to grade nine or ten. The appeal of this book is not the format but the content: It will appeal not to those who feel novels are too hard but to those who prefer learning about exciting real-life stories. Even so, the cover does little to sell the book, with a painted bank robbery scene reminiscent of older adventure novels which somehow falls short of retro-cool. This is a shame since the content is well-written and the high-action subject matter will have great appeal to many readers.

***1/2 out of 4

Looking at other reviews: Ann G. Brouse's review in Library School Journal (via Amazon.com) agrees about the suspense and excitement of the stories, but she chooses to focus more on describing the content of several chapters which makes sense since this is the strength of the book.