When I first read Bolormaa Baasansuren’s My Little Round House (Groundwood, 2009) to my daughter, she was captivated. What’s not to like, after all, about the story of a baby? But Jilu, of course, is a special baby whose first of year of life is charted through the nomadic seasonal migrations of his Mongol parents. Jilu is born in a ger – the “little round house” of the title of the book. The ‘ger’ is a kind of a metaphor for the world from which Jilu emerges; it is comforting and warm like the womb, and it is the one constant in his family’s life of migration.
When my daughter and I read this book together, we got a good sense of the passage of time. And of course, one year in the life of an infant is quite amazing! The world of their consciousness — from being held and suckled, to their first independent movements, to their growing perception of the world outside of themselves — is all contained in this wonderful book. By the time one year passes, little Jilu is old enough to truly enjoy the season — summer — he was born in, outside of the ger.
Baasansuren’s illustrations are lovely and rich. My Little Round House is a picture book of the first order and this is one of the reasons why it was selected for the Spirit of PaperTigers project. Do read the PaperTigers interview with Baasansuren. And of course, do seek out the book itself either at your local library or bookstore!
Chosen as one of the Spirit of PaperTigers 2010 Book Set, middle-reader Little Leap Forward: A Boy in Beiing by Guo Yue and Clare Farrow (Barefoot Books, 2008) is an absolute gem of a book, which all of us (and our children) on the selection panel fell in love with. It also made a beautifully balanced pair with Grace Lin’s Where the Mountain Meets the Moon: one with a boy as the main character, the other with a girl; both lovely to hold and richly illustrated; both with Chinese culture at their hearts, but each also weaving allegory and metaphor into their narrative.
Based on Guo Yue’s childhood, Little Leap Forward tells the story of the young, flute-playing Leap Forward’s love for a songbird he keeps in a cage and calls Little Cloud, set against the shadows of the looming Cultural Revolution in China. You can read a full review, including a synopsis, here. Beautifully illustrated with full-page color plates by Helen Cann, it certainly offers a pleasurable read to young, independent readers – but it also makes a lovely bedtime story for older children, who enjoy a sustained read over several evenings. The writing is lyrical and so lends itself to being read aloud; and, although the story itself follows universal themes of friendship, freedom and learning to let go of those we love, the book’s cultural setting may well give rise to questions and discussion. The end-notes provide historical facts about the Cultural Revolution, filling in details of what happened to Yue and his family. An added dimension for us reading the book together was that both my boys were really keen to know everything that was written here and enjoyed making comparisons with the story – yet I know that when they each read the book on their own, they read the captions to the photographs but didn’t really look at the text.
We were also fortunate enough to see the stage adaptation of Little Leap Forward last year (you can read my post about it here) and I have recently come across this “SoundCloud” from its opening sequence – so head on over and close your eyes for a few minutes, imagining Leap Forward and his friend Little-Little on the river bank, flying their kites high into a cloudess blue sky…
A while ago, a colleague of my husband’s gave us this delightful book, Max Makes a Million (Viking, 1990), about a dog-poet named Max. And thus was I introduced to the marvelously oddball world and voice of New Yorker and children’s book writer and illustrator, Maira Kalman. The story of Max is not so much poetry per se in the conventional sense of verse on a page (although it is that in this book as well), but more the illustration of an extended metaphor at work. The poet-as-dog in his New York digs with his artistically inclined owners, and extravagant ambitions, his friendship with a painter, and his encounter with the critic, is quirky and evocative. And somehow, all very apt for a poet! And there’s lots of word music, to boot. Max’s poetry is catchy:
I want to dance
the kazatski
until I plotski
and sing like a boid
on toity-toid and toid
In this wonderful TED video, Kalman talks about her ‘creative process,’ so to speak, with much vigor, charm and humour. I was struck by how much she mentioned being a ‘bad poet’ and of writing ‘bad poetry’ and yet, in the end, I have to say her judgement of herself — however harsh — never stopped her from carrying on. As any artist knows — poet or otherwise — it’s often hard just to stay inspired. And seeing as it’s February, you might find watching this video and hearing her talk about this dreary month a bit of an inspiration yourself.
When the sun goes down, fears come up. The blessing of a transcendent story for any age is that it helps us to escape, to relate, to connect and to understand the perils and magic of our mortal universe. [...]
In the midst of the swirling clouds of conversations on recession, terrorism threats and environmental anxieties, our great authors, honoring the mysterious yet profound world of childhood, steer us toward peace and community, and the promise of hope in the morning.
Planting the Trees of Kenya: The Story of Wangari Maatthai by Claire Nivola. Wangari Maathai won the Nobel Prize in 2004 for her efforts to repair the environmental damage done to Kenya. She taught women and children to plant seeds and grow trees. Nivola shows the children restoring the health of a country. How this book will inspire: it’s not just Wangari who rallies us; it’s the tenderness of the children and their mothers, taking political action by planting gardens.
One Hen: How One Small Loan Made a Big Difference by Katie Smith Milway, illustrated by Eugenie Fernandes. Kojo lives in a small Ashanti village. His life is changed when he is given a micro-loan by his village and he is able to buy a hen. His success after this impacts everyone in his community and beyond. Why we all should read this: When we try to figure out what to do to help in this year 2010, this book gives us a good model for how teaching a man to fish is more important than the fish itself.
Be sure to click here and read about the other books on Pam’s list.
In a few short days, Vancouver will host the 2010 Olympic Winter Games. What better time than this to highlight a book on one of the city’s most well known landmarks — Stanley Park. Warabe Aska’s Who Hides in the Park is a multilingual book about Vancouver’s municipal gem — a four hundred hectare urban park located on an almost island-like peninsula surrounded on three sides by the Pacific Ocean. The book explores the mysteries of the park in four different languages: English, French, Japanese and Chinese.
Aska, whose books I’ve posted on before, loves to play with hidden images. Each page presents a familiar picture of the park while at the same time, containing images of hidden animals, people and spirits. It’s always fun reading an Aska book with a child because of the pleasure one gets in finding the hidden creatures! For example, a leafy shrub scene portraying a peacock in the front reveals multiple ‘hidden’ peacocks in the the shrubs that have leaves for feathers. A forest path scene with frolicking children has embedded within it rabbits and squirrels and even two police officers on horses.
While the image is presented on the right hand page, the left hand page contains the text in the four different scripts of each language. The text is easy to read and follow, and makes for a good study of languages relevant to Canadians, especially those living on the West Coast. At the back of the book is a delightful map of the park and a list of facts about it. This is a good book to take along to the park or buy as a souvenir of a visit to one of Canada’s most delightful, natural urban treasures.
The Storyteller’s Candle/ La velita de los cuentos Children’s Book Press, 2008) is one of the books selected for inclusion in the 2010 Spirit of PaperTigers Book Set, which is part of the Spirit of PaperTigers Project launched yesterday on our website. Set during the early years of the Great Depression (1929-1935), it tells the story of two children, cousins Hildamar and Santiago, who have moved with their families from Puerto Rico to New York and how their lives are transformed by coming into contact with librarian Pura Belpré, whose pioneering work revolutionised the roles of libraries within their communities.
This telling of Pura Belpré’s work through the eyes of children, written by Lucía Gonzalez, makes a very special readaloud, both to a group of children and cosily at home. As the whole Puerto Rican community of El Barrio joins together to put on a play at the library to celebrate el Día de los Reyes, Three Kings’ Day on the 6th January, the cold outside is forgotten and the library is filled with the warmth not only from the roaring fire, but also from people’s hearts. Then, at the end,
“Ms. Belpré concluded the show in her usual way. “Close your eyes and make a wish,” she whispered as she held the storyteller’s candle.
Lulu Delacre’s gorgeous illustrations (and you can see some of them in her PaperTigers Gallery) are particularly special because she has added collage details to every page using a newspaper from 6th January 1930. I think my favorite, wittily accompanying this illustration of the audience at the library, is a column of thank yous to theatre critics for rave reviews…
Of course, Pura Belpré’s work continues to be commemorated by grown-ups with the awarding of the Pura Belpré medal, whose 2010 winners were announced in January. The Storyteller’s Candle means that children can share in her wonderful story too – and enjoy her legacy of libraries as hubs in their communities.
Following our library’s recent refurbishment, I was excited to find several bilingual picture-books in the newly-revamped children’s section… I borrowed two and we will definitely be going back for more!
Yeh-Hsien: A Chinese Cinderella, retold by Dawn Casey and illustrated by Richard Holland, with a French translation by Annie Arnold (Mantra Lingua, 2006) is familiar but different – there’s no fairy godmother, instead Yeh-Hsien befriends a fish: “she nourished her fish with food and with love, and soon he grew to enormous size.” However, the wicked stepmother kills the fish, cooks it and eats it (this detail gives the story the frisson of horror that is sometimes missing from modern fairy-tale retellings…). The magic fish bones that are left allow Yeh-Hsien to make wishes come true – soon she has enough to eat; and then she is able to conjure up beautiful clothes to go to the Spring Festival… It’s great to have a feisty Cinderella, who has to think and do for herself – and who runs away from the party because her nightmarish step-mother frightens her, not because she forgot the time…
Grandma’s Saturday Soup by Sally Fraser and illustrated by Derek Brazell with a Cantonese translation by Sylvia Denham (Mantra Lingua, 2005) is a delightful book – Mimi takes young readers/listeners through her week during a British winter. Everything reminds her of some ingredient in the soup she will be having at Grandma’s house on Saturday (clouds like dumplings, shoots of new growth through the snow like spring onions); and everything also contrasts with the stories Grandma tells of life in Jamaica – (more…)
The Middle Country Public Library in Centereach NY, USA, currently has an exhibition entitled “The Creative Worlds of Lynne Barasch” . Ongoing until May 2010 the exhibit features several of Lynne’s books with interactive stations relating to each title. Lynne will appear at the library this Saturday, January 16th, at 1 PM for lower school age children and at 2PM for teens. Click here to read PaperTigers review of Lynne’s most recent book First Come the Zebraand here to read our review of her book Hiromi’s Hands, published in 2007 by Lee and Low Books.
2010 is the Year of the Tiger so I have chosen a book that features a tiger in its telling. White Tiger, Blue Serpent is an old Chinese tale from the Drung tribe in Yunnan. Retold by Grace Tseng and illustrated by Jean and Mou-Sien Tseng (Lothrop, Lee and Shepherd, 1999), the story is about a young boy named Kai whose poor mother is a weaver of brocades. Kai supports his mother in her work by fishing and collecting firewood. The brocades his mother makes are sold in the market to buy food and silk supplies. The two live frugally on the impoverished west bank of a great roaring river which divides it from the magical and mountainous east — a land guarded by a ferocious white tiger and monstrous blue serpent in the service of the jealous goddess Qin.
One day Kai asks his mother to make a special brocade just for him. She knows that such a brocade will take a long time to weave — a thousand days — and will require Kai to work hard like a man and not a boy. Kai is up to the challenge; he takes his mother’s latest brocade to market and sells it to buy an ox and rice seedlings. He will become a farmer as well as a fisherman to support his mother’s grand endeavour. After a thousand days, the brocade is ready. It is so beautiful that the goddess Qin snatches it away from Kai with a gust of wind that transports the brocade into her highly guarded realm. What will Kai do? In order to get the brocade back, he must venture into the mountains and face the tiger and the serpent.
In this story, the tiger represents a fearsome obstacle and will be a test of Kai’s budding manhood. The illustrations in the book by Jean and Mou-Sien Tseng make this more than amply clear!
What stories of tigers have you read and what emotion have they elicited in you as a reader? Fear? Awe? Admiration? Tell us about your favorite books about tigers!
Two of the books I gave my 8-year-old daughter for Christmas were Douglas Wood’s Old Turtle (illus. by Cheng Khee-Chee) and Old Turtle and the Broken Truth (illus. by Jon J Muth). I had heard much about these modern-day classics over the years and was looking forward to sharing them with her. I read the books once, before wrapping and putting them under our Christmas tree, but it wasn’t until we read them together, snuggled up in bed, that I realized how truly special they were. Their plea for unity, acceptance and understanding between people and nature got two thumbs up from my daughter.
In Old Turtle, when all creation starts arguing over who or what God is, Old Turtle, their wise and ancient leader, is the only one who accepts and incorporates the beliefs of all the creatures: “‘God is indeed deep,’ she says to the fish in the sea, ‘and much higher than high,’ she tells the mountains.” In Old Turtle and the Broken Truth (Muth’s image of the Truth falling from the sky and breaking in half being an especially poignant one), it’s up to a young, determined girl to help humans see that the truth they are fighting over is broken, and that there is not just one truth, but “truths all around us, and within us.”
The very important ideas these books convey add dimension to our website’s current focus on Respect for Religious Diversity, and the following quote from Old Turtle and the Broken Truth perfectly captures its essence:
Remember this, Little One… The Broken Truth, and life itself, will be mended only when one person meets another—someone from a different place or with a different face or different ways—and sees and hears herself. Only then will the people know that every person, every being, is important, and that the world was made for each of us.
When I first read Bolormaa Baasansuren’s My Little Round House (Groundwood, 2009) to my daughter, she was captivated. What’s not to like, after all, about the story of a baby? But Jilu, of course, is a special baby whose first of year of life is charted through the nomadic seasonal migrations of his Mongol parents. Jilu is born in a ger – the “little round house” of the title of the book. The ‘ger’ is a kind of a metaphor for the world from which Jilu emerges; it is comforting and warm like the womb, and it is the one constant in his family’s life of migration.
Chosen as one of the 
The Storyteller’s Candle/ La velita de los cuentos Children’s Book Press, 2008) is one of the books selected for inclusion in the 
Yeh-Hsien: A Chinese Cinderella, retold by Dawn Casey and illustrated by Richard Holland, with a French translation by Annie Arnold (Mantra Lingua, 2006) is familiar but different – there’s no fairy godmother, instead Yeh-Hsien befriends a fish: “she nourished her fish with food and with love, and soon he grew to enormous size.” However, the wicked stepmother kills the fish, cooks it and eats it (this detail gives the story the frisson of horror that is sometimes missing from modern fairy-tale retellings…). The magic fish bones that are left allow Yeh-Hsien to make wishes come true – soon she has enough to eat; and then she is able to conjure up beautiful clothes to go to the Spring Festival… It’s great to have a feisty Cinderella, who has to think and do for herself – and who runs away from the party because her nightmarish step-mother frightens her, not because she forgot the time…
The 
Two of the books I gave my 8-year-old daughter for Christmas were 
In Old Turtle, when all creation starts arguing over who or what God is, Old Turtle, their wise and ancient leader, is the only one who accepts and incorporates the beliefs of all the creatures: “‘God is indeed deep,’ she says to the fish in the sea, ‘and much higher than high,’ she tells the mountains.” In Old Turtle and the Broken Truth (Muth’s image of the Truth falling from the sky and breaking in half being an especially poignant one), it’s up to a young, determined girl to help humans see that the truth they are fighting over is broken, and that there is not just one truth, but “truths all around us, and within us.”
