I want my hat back

This is perhaps the best picture book I've seen all year. And I don't say that lightly - a LOT of picture books come across my desk. But occasionally there's a gem that reminds me why I love children's literature so much.

The plot is deceptively simple - Bear is looking for his little red pointy hat and talks to many animals in his search - but the text is masterful, pitch-perfect, and laugh out loud funny. This last claim has been laboratory tested, at least on adults: I walked around the office and made my coworkers read the book and watched them all pause for a couple of seconds at the end and then gasp and laugh.

Have I not mentioned the illustrations yet? I would frame this whole book and put it on my wall. The illustrations are simple, nuanced, funny, mostly understated and absolutely stunning. And even the book design is an integral part of the pleasure of this picture book - the text design (font, size and colour) interacts subtly with the storyline in a pleasing way, the pages are beautifully laid out, and the colour scheme is restrained in a way that makes colour use sing with meaning. What's amazing to me, though, is that this is the first picture book where Klassen has moved from being an illustrator (of great talent) to an author-illustrator. This is not an easy transition, and I've seen it go poorly more often than not. So colour me surprised and impressed - there are only a handful of truly great author-illustrators alive today, and I think this book makes Jon Klassen a force to watch out for.

If you have an older preschooler in your life (a mature 3 year old, a 4 - 5, or even 6 year old?) who enjoys animals, great illustrations, and doesn't mind a bit of morbid humour, this is the perfect present. Even though the text is very simple, I suggest it for preschoolers instead of toddlers because the humorous finale does take a bit inferring power to understand. Spoiler - if you are morally against a bit of implied animal-on-animal violence, this is not the book for you.

Oh, and did I mention that Jon Klassen is Canadian? This one's going to win some awards. It's almost not fair that Klassen's recent picture book illustrations for Cat's Night Out won the GG in 2010. If I was on the committee, I'd find it hard not to to give that award to him again.

The Red Tree

Tan, Shaun. The Red Tree. Vancouver, BC: Simply Read Books.

Thought about this book again recently when buying a present for a friend of mine who was graduating from her program in counseling psychology.

I don't say this often but I'll say it now: This man is a genius. I couldn't have been happier when I found out earlier this year that he'd won the Astrid Lindgren Prize (see the article in the Guardian), which is one of the only children's lit award accompanied by truckloads of money. Couldn't have gone to a better person.

The Red Tree is a heart-stopping picture book that deals with depression or difficult times in an accessible, deeply moving, and entirely un-condescending way. It also offers an equally real, visceral, almost experiential vision of what hope can be. And since the arc of the book so firmly rooted in its images, the red tree with its rich and sudden appearance of colour at the end is a mysterious and unexpected gift. And although it seems to appear out of nowhere, a closer look will reveal a small red leaf on every page of the story, even at its bleakest moments.

I love the way illustration and text combine seamlessly to create a otherworldly, dreamlike (and at times almost sinister) vision, and the way the book veers away from intellectual understanding and avoids being prescriptive or didactic. The text is sparse and deceptively simple. The illustrations are rich, sombre, complex, detailed, expressive and textured. The emotional content of the book is palpable and unrelenting, in a way I don't think I have ever quite experienced in a picture book. Some people seem to think this makes it unsuitable for children (it's been challenged in my library), but I can't help thinking it actually mirrors the very profound and all-encompassing way children often experience emotion. It certainly isn't a preschool storytime read-aloud, but it has that amazing quality that will make is riveting to a wide range of ages, from young school age children to adults. Quite simply, this is one of the most stunning picture books I've ever seen, from one of our most talented illustrators (and writers).

One small quibble: I couldn't help taking issue with the line "the world is a deaf machine," for obvious reasons. It's the only thing I don't like about this book. It's too bad he chose that particular metaphor, because it does make me hesitate to cheer as loud as I can for what is otherwise nothing short of masterful, but the book is too amazing for me to pass it up for this reason.

An older one, but a good one. One of my favourites. The kind of book that genuinely moved me in that powerful somewhat pre-verbal way; the kind of book that might make a difference in someone's day or life. See what Shaun Tan has to say about the book. And while you're there, check out the rest of his website. You won't be disappointed.

Press Here!

In France, Herve Tullet is know as the King of Preschool. Press Here (Chronicle Books, 2011) is his latest picture book - and what a hoot! At first the series of coloured circles and written instructions (press the yellow dot, shake the book, clap twice, etc.), might not seem like much, but add kids to the mix and watch the magic happen. I could keep describing, but wouldn't you rather watch kids play? CLICK HERE for the video trailer!

And see Herve Tullet in action here - great stuff: "There will be three people. I will be in the middle in my book. And there will be a child. And there will be someone who knows how to read the book. And I hope everybody could play with the book. The child could play, and the adult could play too."

Technology, ethics, and some damn good reads

A friend asked me recently to suggest a book for a high school class - something off the beaten curriculum, something with teeth-sink-into-able issues, something with the appeal of The Hunger Games that hadn't been read out yet and, most importantly, something NOT ANCIENT (but maybe available in paperback).

Immediately, my mind jumped to Little Brother. I really do not understand why this book is not as big as The Hunger Games. Cory Doctorow has a cult-like following in the adult world, and the book did indeed make it to the NYT bestseller list, but somehow it doesn't fly off the shelf at the library at the rate we expected.

It's one of the best teen books I've read in ages, a story that only gets more relevant as our governments use the terrrorism scare to erode civil liberties. This cautionary dystopia is made even more chilling by the fact that it seems to be set about three weeks in the future. Didactic? Yes, without question. But so relevant, precisely-aimed and well-crafted that it remains a work a literature. And a profoundly readable one at that.

After a terrorist attack on the Bay Area transit system, 17 year old Marcus Yallow and his friends are picked up and questioned by the Department of Homeland Security based on suspicious activity like being in the area, demanding help for an injured friend, and refusing to give up the password on an encrypted phone. When Marcus defends his right to his own privacy, he is detained and tortured in what is later referred to as "Guantanamo by the sea." When the friends are finally released, the Department of Homeland Security has turned San Francisco into a police state.

From high-tech gait-recognition cameras to the hacking of the xBox, technology plays both sides in this struggle for freedom and privacy in a world of surveillance. Plenty to talk about here. The e-book is available for free download on the author's website. A great modern-day companion to 1984.

Another great technology-meets-ethics book is The Adoration of Jenna Fox by Mary Pearson (Henry Holt, 2008). In a more distant future, Jenna (also 17) awakes after a terrible accident with absolutely no memory of her previous life. She tries to reconstruct her previous existence, but things don't seem to add up. Her parents, if they really are her parents, are hiding things from her. She struggles to escape her parents' over-protective confines and discover who, or what, she is. A story about the limits of technology, and the limits of humanity. A fabulous read with ample sparks for conversation and debate.

Mockingjay

When I got a concussion last year, I was advised not to try to read for a while. The problem was, I was 50 pages from the end of Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games. Seriously, folks, just try not finishing that one. So I'd read for 10 minutes (my max) and then lie in the dark for half an hour waiting for my brain to recover and then read again for ten minutes. And if I read for more than 10 minutes I'd suddenly start shaking uncontrollably. Then I'd lie in the dark for another 30 minutes and start all over again. But I just couldn't stop. That's got to say a lot for a book.

In the middle of my recovery, I listened to Catching Fire (the second installment) on audiobook. And much as I like audiobooks (and couldn't have lived through the last year without them), it just wasn't the same as tearing through the book at light speed and getting lost in another world. It wasn't a bad production, but I can't say it was memorable either. I've heard better in the last year. There are books I'd suggest listening to over reading - this wasn't one of them.

So it is my pleasure to report that the first book I have officially devoured in only a couple of sittings is Mockingjay. And what a pleasure it was. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to sit down with a half-finished novel the day stretching ahead of me and know I was going to read the damn thing till I was done. There's really no point adding one more review to the pot, except to note my delicious relief as a children's librarian that the current 'it' book is actually both-well written and interesting. The hot teen books are always eminently readable, but I often shut off a portion of my brain to enjoy them. I'll admit I was a little traumatized by parts of the grimness and violence - I'm not good at reading about the particulars of war. But it's a fabulous smart series, and deserving of all the attention it's getting. What a perfect book to satisfy the current market hunger for teen/adult cross-over novels. If for some reason you haven't read it, and can handle a good dose of dystopia with your Saturday morning tea, this is the next series you want to get your hands on.

It's a beautiful circle for me to round out the concussion on both ends with such a different experience of this same trilogy. Reading: I've missed you!

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.

Another great audiobook

Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card, read by Stefan Rudnicki and a full cast

Not surprisingly, when I look up the reviews for the next great audiobook I listened to, it's also an AudioFile Earphones award winner. Check out the review here, and listen to a short clip.

Ender's game is the story of Andrew ("Ender") Wiggins, a child genius who is recruited by the military at age five to fight in the ultimate war again the aliens. We follow his experiences at an off-planet school for child soldiers, where he is ostracized early by his combination of skill, young age, and the manipulation of the military handlers who hope to create a new breed of commander. Ender excels in the zero-gravity "battle room" training exercises, but must struggle to understand his place in this strange and often brutal military world populated almost entirely by other children. Before Ender reaches adolescence, he will have the opportunity to the course of history forever.

This is one of the absolutely classic science fiction titles. When I've talk about science fiction with friends, this is the number one title that jumps out of my their mouths. Perhaps because I wasn't a big SF fan when I was younger, I seem to be the only person I know who didn't read this book as a teenager, or even a kid. For some reason it's in the adult section at our library, which I think is unfortunate since it's one of those great, smart stories which presents challenging ideas from a child's point of view. Sure this story is substantial enough to appeal to adults, but so are many kids' novels. The story is read by a full cast of actors, and the narration is both compelling and easy to listen to. I got lost in this story for days, and was sad (in that particular nerdy book-loving 12 year old way) when it finished. A great story to go back and find if you missed it! And a great SF book for all of you who think you're not really the SF type.

hooray for audiobooks!

Okay, so I've recently been recovering from a concussion. I don't suggest it, really. Especially if you're also daylighting as a librarian. But while I've been unable to read any books over about 15 pages recently, I've been listening to audiobooks. Thank you universe for audiobooks. Without which I might seriously have lost it.

I'll try to share a few of my favourites. To begin:

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, written and read by Sherman Alexie

Not only is Sherman Alexie a talented writer, and funny as fuck, he's also a fantastic speaker and storyteller. You've probably heard of this book already - it's (fairly) received a lot of great press. But this is also one of those rare treats where we get to hear the original author read their own work, with the knowledge that no one else could possibly have done a better job. The book follows the adventures of fourteen year-old Arnold Spirit (AKA "Junior") as he decides to head out beyond the world of the rez and attend high school in the nearby (and overwhelming white) small town farming community, while still living at home on the reservation. Alexie doesn't shy away from the difficult, and this story has more than its fair share of death and heart-wrench, but it also has its own brand of smart, cutting, dorky, honest and deeply perceptive humour. And by humour I mean don't risk drinking milk while you listen to this story. I know the original has comics included, but somehow this version didn't leave me feeling like I'd missed anything. A truly consummate audiobook.

Check out Sherman Alexie's website under "Audio" for an mp3 clip from the audiobook, and for a list of the stupid number of awards and prizes this book/audiobook has received. Of particular note for the audio version is the Earphones award from AudioFile. AudioFile is a fantastic review source just for audiobooks - check out the AudioFile review here (and click on "listen" for an excerpt.)

A Kick in the Head

Janeczko, Paul. A Kick in the Head: An Everyday Guide to Poetic Forms. Illus. by Chris Raschka. Cambridge, MA: Candlewick, 2005.

I just got a new job and a lovely co-worker just surprised me with this beautiful book as a going away (though not very far – I’ll just be at a different branch) kind of present. Wow. It’s simply stunning. The book covers 29 different forms of poetry, with examples and brief explanations. But the clean spare presentation speaks more to a showcase than a textbook. Each poem is given its own page, with a brief note at the bottom indicating the name and basic structure of the form. Further explanations (about a paragraph each) can be found for each form in a section at the end of the book. And the illustrations (a combination of paint and collage) are both stunning and appropriate, with plenty of white space to give the design a sophisticated feel. This is no surprise, given Chris Raschka’s previous success with children’s book such as YO! YES? and Charlie Parker Played Be Bop. But even the smallest details, like the small blue painted icons created to represent each form, are brilliant: Perfect whimsical little symbols that somehow perfectly echo something essential about the nature of the form (a syllable count, the number of lines, a theme), without being strictly representative.

I love poetry, and I love great children’s books. What a gorgeous present. Any teachers exploring poetry will find this book to be a powerful ally – both as a source of information and inspiration. And since the book is simple, accessible, and yet entirely devoid of condescension, it will work with a wide range of ages. I know I’ll be consulting it the next time I need to remember exactly how a pantoum works, or simply when I’m scouting for ideas.

Graceling

Cashore, Kristin. Graceling. Orlando, FL : Harcourt, 2008.

I’m assembling a mental list for my adult friends who have read all of Tamora Pierce’s teen fantasy novels, and are looking for other great books to turn when they want to spend an indulgent winter day in that comfortable chair by the window entranced by another world.

Most of these stories feature a fiercely strong female lead in a traditionally male-dominated domain, an otherworldly or magical talent that sets her apart from her peers, a great challenge of justice, and often a bit of reluctant romance to take our wildly independent protagonist by surprise (without threatening to tame her).

Recently I enjoyed Shannon Hale’s Goose Girl which, though a little more gentle than Pierce’s novels, still brings a rich a satisfying story to the table. But Graceling has a fiercer edge to it, a little more wildness. Now in her late teens, Katsa is a deadly figher, albeit a reluctant one. Since she was a child, Katsa’s eyes – one green and one blue – have marked her as gifted with a Grace, an extreme and superhuman skill. Used as a pawn by the King, she learns to despise her skill – the Grace of killing – and eventually seeks to control her own destiny and make her own decisions. When she meets Prince Po, Graced with combat skills, she discovers an uncomfortable match for her own powers and an unexpected ally. When a mission to rescue a prisoner gradually reveals a larger and much deadlier plot for power, the two must team up against a force that threatens all of the seven kingdoms.

The romance here is more prominent than in Pierce’s novels, but includes similar themes such as the struggle to reconcile vulnerability and independence. I enjoyed the underlying erotic tension of a deadly female fighter who finally meets a man skilled enough to give her a satisfying fight. And although Katsa learns to love, to trust, and to live with some measure of vulnerability, she never loses her wild and fiercely independent nature. And she doesn't seem to lose any of her personal distaste for marriage.

I occasionally wondered whether it might be too close to Pierce’s writing for some of my friends, but I thoroughly enjoyed this book. And apparently, according to the back cover blurbs, so did Tamora Pierce: "Here's a WOW of a book! Seeing half-wild Katsa learn humanity as she battles soldiers, storms, and her own obsessive nature--I HAD to know how it ended!" As a first novel, Graceling becomes even more impressive. Kristin Cashore is a writer to watch out for. My only complaint is that I have to wait for more news of this world. Well, not too long. Fire, the prequel to Graceling, is due out this fall. And a third book is apparently in the works.

Mrs. Chicken and the Hungry Crocodile

Pay, Won-Ldy and Margaret Lippert. Mrs. Chicken and the Hungry Crocodile. Illus. by Julie Paschkis. Henry Holt and Co., 2003.

When vain Mrs. Chicken strays a little too close to the river while trying to look at her reflection, she gets snapped up by a hungry crocodile. Held captive on an island in the river, she uses her wits to convince the crocodile that they are sisters. And sisters don't eat sisters for dinner. Talking animals, great dialogue, hatching babies, trickery, sharp teeth, and a gullible predator - this book has it all. The illustrations are stunning - simple stylized images in a limited range of bold colours - and the pages are beautifully designed with plenty of white (or black) space.

I've been doing a bunch of kindergarten outreach, and this retelling of a folktale from Liberia is one of my all-time favourite read-alouds for this age group. I'm not exactly sure why, but it's one of those magic stories that slowly makes the room go quiet. There's nothing quite like a room full of rapt five-year olds to make you appreciate a book even more than you did before. The story is plenty funny, with room for fun voices and many laughs, but it doesn’t depend on obnoxious or ridiculous humour to entertain; it’s just masterful storytelling. The text is complex and has enough tension to keep 5, 6 or 7 year olds interested, but is also accessible enough to read to a family storytime group with a mix of toddlers, preschoolers, and school-age children.

A new review at CM

I'm still here. Really! I've just been laying low as I started an excellent new job as a children's librarian. I hope to resurface soon.

My latest review is up at CM Magazine for Colors! ¡Colores! It's a quiet but truly beautiful bilingual picture book that reads like poetry - in a good way. And that's something I don't say lightly. And the watercolor illustrations - simple, exquisite, whimsical, wow! Check it out.

Also in the latest edition of CM, one of the most unusual takes on a color concept book I've come across: The Black Book of Colors. This picture book describes colors by texture, taste, smell and sound, with both text and braille. The illustrations are rendered entirely in black with raised black lines. I'm intrigued. Can't wait to get that one in my hot little hands.

Smash! Crash!

Scieszka, Jon. Smash!Crash! Illus. by David Shannon, Loren Long and David Gordon. Simon & Schuster, 2008.

I've been stashing this book in the bottom of my storytime box with the same way one might hide a stash of tiny bills in their shoe during a serious game of monopoly. And yesterday, on an antsy rainy day, when over half of the kids brought their pet trucks to storytime, I knew its time had come. Our library has an entire section of picture books called "Things that Go" - planes, trains, race cars, garbage trucks, etc. - and the things circulate like crazy. But it's often hard to find one that will hold up as a read-aloud story. Some are pure poetry, in the tradition of Donald Crews' Freight Train, but most follow the plot of "let's go visit the fire station" or "gosh, there are some really big trucks out there." So when Smash! Crash! showed up on the new books truck, I nabbed it right away. This is the first in Jon Scieszka's Trucktown series, and it features the two best friends Jack Truck and Dump Truck Dan who like to, yes you guessed it, smash and crash. This habit tends to get them into trouble but, when Rosie the Wrecking Crane needs help, who better to call on than our two trouble-making friends?

Within seconds everyone was listening intently, and crowding onto the mats up front. Even the pet trucks were still. It's a great read-aloud with the possibility for fun voices, repeating lines, loads of action, charismatic truck characters (who presumably will each take centre stage in later installments of the series), energetic illustrations and, best of all, it's actually got a story to it. There was a minor riot to manage as kids rushed for the book after the last song, and at least one hold placed on the spot when no other truck book on the shelf would do. When I walked by the story room an hour and a half later, a handful of kids were playing a rousing (yet oddly respectful) game of "smash and crash," and the kid who had signed out the book was still carrying it possessively under one arm.

I had a little moment when it seemed like the only two obviously girl trucks were playing pirates while all the other trucks were doing real-world jobs, but the appearance of a very tough Rosie the Wrecking Crane put those reservations to rest.

This series is a book marketer's dream: content (trucks! construction! smashing!) that sells itself, a series of high-energy recurring characters (and animated truck characters at that), a children's author who is practically a household name (Jon "rhymes with Fresca" Scieszka), and a team of illustrators who are no light-weights either. In a time when children's books are not exempt from the machinations of brand recognition, this series has what it needs to succeed. But it's nice to see a series that draws on the creativity established children's writers and artists rather than using TV programs for instant branding to sell books with minimal content.

As a girl with a pickup truck of her own, I'm thinking this book will go far. Perhaps too far for my own taste, actually, with a 52-book series already planned, and TV and other media spinoffs in the unspecified future (see the Publishers Weekly article here)... So I'm planning to enjoy it now while Trucktown is a book series and not yet an empire.

Another book from the Serendipity Conference...

Einarson, Earl. The Moccasins. Illus. by Julie Flett. Theytus Books Ltd., 2005.

There is no lack of picture books about unconditional love (Mama Do You Love Me? and Love you Forever jump to mind) but, done well, it isn't something I get tired of seeing. How often, though, do we get stories of unconditional love set in a foster family? Luckily this is not only a book the world needs, it is also a charming, well-written and generally appealing book. The Moccasins tells the story of a child whose foster mother gives him a gift of moccasins to help him feel proud of his Aboriginal background. Much in the way children are able to grant special powers to toys (the Velveteen Rabbit) or blankets (Linus), the moccasins make physically tangible the love, pride and comfort that the boy's mother offers him with this gift. And somehow Einarson, with the help of illustrator Julie Flett, is able to transfer some of the magic into this book so that the object of the book itself seems immensely comforting. The text is simple and straightforward, with very few linguistic tricks, but it is unexpectedly moving. The love and care pictured in this particular family might not reflect the experience of every child growing up in a foster family (or any kind of family for that matter), but that is doesn't mean this is any less of an essential book. The fact that it is based on the author's own experience might be part of what makes it moving - or perhaps it's just a good story.

And Julie Flett. Wow. I tell you, this is a woman to watch out for. Her computer-aided collages combine a spare playful contemporary aesthetic with the kind of emotional expressiveness that makes children's books sing. I like like like. Check out her next book, Zoe and the Fawn to see more of the magic she can make. In The Moccasins, I found the first illustration particularly moving in its ability to convey almost viscerally the sense of comfort and safety suggested by the text: When I was young, my foster brothers and I slept together in one room. My bed was on the far end. I always waited until I heard them sleeping before I would fall asleep. I felt warm and loved.

I wish this book was the standard 32 pages rather than 16 - the text would survive being spread out a little and, more importantly, it would give the book room for more illustrations. As is stands, the book features only six pages of primary illustration, plus secondary illustrations on the pages with text. It seems unnecessarily short to me, but maybe that's just because I was enjoying it. This shorter length, combined with the soft cover and the small size (6"x8"?), might make the book seem less serious as a picture book than it really is. And that's unfortunate because this story deserves all the attention it can get.

I finally got my copy of this book (thanks Mom!), because at the conference the entire stack of them disappeared within minutes of Earl Einarson's and Julie Flett's talks. No great surprise there. I'm hoping Earl Einarson's got some more stories in him...

I Miss You Every Day

Taback, Simms. I Miss You Every Day. New York: Viking, 2007.

When the sun is shining bright / or when it's wet and gray / I think about you all the time / I miss you every day.

From the creator of the Caldecott-winning Joseph had a Little Overcoat, comes a story for anyone who has ever missed someone so much that they dreamed of making themselves into a human pretzel and stowing away in a friend’s suitcase. In this case, our protagonist decides to mails herself from New York to California to join a friend who has moved away:

I’m going to jump inside a nice big box / I don’t care what you say / I’ll write your address on the front / I miss you every day.

The simple rhyming sequences, most of which end with the haunting repetition of “I miss you every day,” create a playful sing-song veneer while leaving room for the reader/listener to fill the book with as much emotion as they want. The story doesn't attempt either to force an intensity of emotion or to avoid it, but works with a light touch and delivers a satisfying ending that reunites and reassures.

Taback’s visual style combines the emotional honesty of the kid-art aesthetic with the masterful design of an award-winning children’s illustrator. The pictures are bold, stylized, colourful and rich with detail (including a lot of environmental print in the form of everything from signs to candy wrappers to postcards to famous picture book covers). Street signs, addresses, and cityscapes give the book a grounded sense of place from which to explore distance and separation - in this case the story arcs from New York to California - but rather than narrowing the audience, this specificity of place serves to make the distance seem more tangible in a way that strengthens a feeling of universal appeal.

This book speaks well to the experience of separation, as distinct from the experience of loss. It might not be the best book to comfort a child for whom a possible reunion is not in the picture, but the emotional content will still resonate for many. If it came in a thin postcard-sized gift version, I can think of several friends who would mail it to their out-of-town sweethearts.

Warning: If you are missing someone very much, don't try reading this book out loud at storytime. I Miss You Every Day is one of those deceptively simple books that just might undo you at exactly the wrong time. For this same reason, it will also be a powerful tool for echoing and affirming the very strong emotions kids carry with them.

Shi-shi-etko

Campbell, Nicola. Shi-shi-etko. Illus. Kim LaFave. Toronto: Groundwood Books, 2005.

"One, two, three, four mornings left until I go to school." So begins the story of Shi-shi-etko, a young aboriginal girl who is soon to be taken from her family and sent to a residential school. In her last four days with her family, Shi-shi-etko gathers together memories of her home to hold with her until she can return the following summer.

This gentle but profoundly moving story introduces one of the most abhorrent chapters of Canadian history - the story of the forceful and legally sanctified removal of aboriginal children from their families and communities. At the Serendipity conference yesterday, it was fascinating to hear Nicola Campbell speak about trying to find a balance that would allow her to honour the harsh realities of this part of our history and share it with children without simply traumatizing them. It can't have been an easy task, but somehow she has managed to write this book with equal respect for the hearts of the children who will hear this story and the realities of the children who lived this story.

In the way that intense sadness can charge the everyday things around us with incredible sharpness and beauty, the weight of what is about to be lost fills this story with a sense of beauty and connection and quiet focused attention that only makes the impending departure more heartbreaking. The illustrations by Kim LaFave are digitally created, some borrowing from photographs taken by the author, but they have a rich painterly feel that matches Campbell's story. Like the text, the illustrations illuminate the beauty of each plant, place and person that is a part of the coming loss. The images manage to convey joy, wonder and a sense of belonging at the same time as they hold great grief.

Shi-shi-etko is not a textbook that will explain the details or legacy of residential school system to children; instead it is a beautifully told and very human story that offers readers a connected point of entry into a much larger story.

We also got a sneak preview of Nicola's next book, Shinchi's Canoe, which tells the story of Shi-shi-etko's younger brother Shinchi, and takes place primarly at the residential school itself. Another beautifully told story, due out this July.

Persepolis - the movie!

If you loved Marjane Satrapi's two autobiograhical graphic novels about growing up in Iran during the time of the Islamic Revolution, you won't be disappointed by this movie. It's been a long time since I saw a movie that so faithfully brought a book to life, while going beyond the original to add new bits of brilliance. It was so fabulously good that it seemed almost as if Satrapi herself helped create it.... oh, right - she did. While the movie was created using a mostly black-and-white graphic style similar to the original drawings, the addition of sound and motion serve both to make the heartbreak more devestating and the funny even funnier. This film combines seamless high-tech mastery with the appeal and immediacy of the low-tech aesthetic. And although the story takes place in the face of war, hardship, seperation, depression, and social limitations - when this film is funny, it is funny funny funny. The "Eye of the Tiger" dance scene has got to be one of my favorite musical scenes of all time. This is one of the few instances where reading a book will not ruin the movie, and seeing the movie will not ruin the book. If you haven't already - go out and enjoy!

Me Write Book: It Bigfoot Memoir

Roumieu, Graham. Me Write Book: It Bigfoot Memoir. Toronto: Plume, 2005.

"Listen, I tired of tabloid distorting things about Bigfoot. Those jackal have try for years to devour me and slander good name. I write this to set record straight once and for all. Maybe also for cathartic value. For money too. So if you like hear about Bigfoot from Bigfoot this Bigfoot book for you. Come share the crying, the laugh, the cuddle, the smashing. First you accept me, then you love me."

This gentle illustrated memoir appears to be written for a sophisticated adult audience, but has enough gore, head-ripping, hollywood gossip, drugs, cussing, graphic bathroom humour, ninja moves and rock ballads to keep any teenager interested.

It may just be the funniest freaking thing I've ever read. Graham Roumieu is pee-in-pants brilliant. Thanks to my brother for this one!

Blankets

Thompson, Craig. Blankets. Marietta, Georgia: Top Shelf Productions, 2003.

Drawing on his own experience, Craig Thompson gives us the story of a teenager navigating his own relationship with faith in a rigidly fundamental Christian family, the push-and-pull of brothers growing up together, and, most poignantly, the all-encompassing arc of first love.

This graphic novel is one of the most beautiful things I've read in a long time. The story is moving, poignant, angsty, and portrayed with a surprising depth of emotion. By turns subtle and explosive, the ink illustrations are consistently expressive, nuanced, story-driven, exquisite. They make playful use of space but are always easy to navigate. The story is bittersweet, more tender than gritty, but saved from sentimentality by the power and emotional honesty of the illustrations.

At 582 pages, Blankets might look intimidating to those unused to the pace of graphic novels, but the length seems perfect: just long enough to read like a novel, satisfyingly substantial without requiring epic effort. I would probably have read it at a single sitting if I hadn't started so damn late at night.

This is the graphic novel the comic-ravaged twenty-five year old recommends to his (or her) girlfriend to get her hooked. A book that sparks conversation when you try to find it in a bookstore. It is the kind of book you find equally on the lists of avid comic book readers and of literature snobs just skirting the edges of graphic novel land. Several of my friends have been telling me to read it for ages. I'm glad I finally did. It's a beautiful story. One of the best graphic novels I've read. Great for teens and adults alike.

Lesser Blessed

Van Camp, Richard. The Lesser Blessed. Vancouver: Douglas & McIntyre, 1996.

This is not a review, it is simply a recommendation. This novel knocked me on my ass and you should probably go read it. Please go read a review (maybe this review), as I'm probably not going to write one. This is a big big story stuffed into a short 119 pages. It is also stunning and hard and very funny and beautiful and utterly readable.