I have been intrigued by the Red Threads in Chinese folklore that link people invisibly and irrevocably, ever since first reading about them in Grace Lin’s beautiful picture book The Red Thread: An Adoption Fairy Tale. They then reappear in her wonderful Where the Mountain Meets the Moon and Jama at Alphabet Soup quotes Grace as saying: “To me, those red threads, those connections are the stories we share.”…

So I couldn’t resist picking up Ed Young’s Red Thread (Philomel Books, 1993) when I came across it recently: and it’s a wonderful story, which grows in meaning the more you read it. Wei Gu is a young man who, having been orphaned as a boy, is keen to find a wife and be part of a family. Hearing that a matchmaker is going to be in the town of Quinge, he travels there and makes sure he is at the temple good and early – in fact, he is so early that it is still dark (and here, Young’s illustrations are particularly stunning). He meets an old man, a spirit who can tell him that the red thread connecting him to his future wife leads to a three-year-old girl, and that they will marry in fourteen years time. Not only that, but they can go together to see her right there and then. However, Wei Gu is disgusted that she is apparently the daughter of vegetable sellers; and he also finds her ugly. Horrifically, he orders his servant to murder the child – but the red thread cannot be broken so easily and when Wei Gu marries fourteen years later, he discovers that the flower seed his beautiful wife always wears between her eyebrows carries a not unfamiliar story with it…

The narrative is simple but still manages to convey psychological depth; and the complexities inherent in the story mean that the book will grow with young readers. The act of violence is shocking – but as is so often the case in fairy-tales (and I am particularly struck by parallels with the western Snow White here), young readers/listeners will probably be less affected by it than the grown-ups reading it to them. The message that you can’t outrun your destiny is clear – but all the same, Wei Gu is lucky after his wicked act to end up with a loving wife who still loves him, even when the truth comes out.

A red thread runs throughout the book, straight across the pages, separating the text from the main focus of the illustrations, which completely fill each double-page spread. There are grandiose architectural spaces, busy market scenes and energetic close-ups, all depicted in a beautiful pallette of blues and greens, with orange as a striking outline color. In fact, as far as Young’s illustrations go, this for me is right up there as one of my favorites.

Now, there’s a question: which books by Ed Young are your and your children’s favorites? I am being very kind putting it in the plural, because I would find it very hard to narrow it down to just one myself!

The Bracelet by Yoshiko Uchida, illustrated by Joanna Yardley (Philomel Books, 1993) recounts the story of a Japanese American girl named Emi.  It is 1942 and Emi is about to leave her home in San Francisco for an internment camp further inland.  It is an uncertain and precarious time.  Just before Emi’s departure, her friend Laurie Madison shows up at the door with a gift.  It is a heart bracelet.  Emi receives the gift gladly, swearing that she will “never, ever take it off.”  But in the hustle and bustle of the move, Emi loses the bracelet and for the first time, despite all the other difficulties she has faced with her family during their ordeal, she wants to cry.  Will she recover the bracelet?  Or rather, what will she do if she doesn’t?

I read this story to my daughter, expecting a certain sort of ending and getting another one, and this was what surprised me about this book.  Emi has an epiphany about her lost bracelet that is both simple and profound.  Objects are not the repositories of our memories; our minds are.  Despite the loss of the bracelet, Emi knows that she will never forget the friendship she had with Laurie and this is an important truth for Emi to realize about herself and her situation.  Illustrator Joanna Yardley has done a wonderful job of depicting a very realistic-looking Emi as a shy and contemplative girl; I was especially struck by an image of her face in which the details are very fine, right down to Emi’s eyelashes.

Reading this book gave me an opportunity to explain to my daughter that Emi’s experience was similar to those of her grandfather’s and my great aunt’s.  She herself made the connection and I elaborated a little on the differences between the Canadian and American experiences.  I knew about Yoshiko Uchida’s childrens’ books on the topic from before but this book made me want to seek out more by her!

Marjorie and I at PaperTigers write the Books at Bedtime posts and these posts usually are about books appropriate for reading to children at bed time.  However, I’m facing a bit of a dilemma having a 13 year old son and a 9 year old daughter.  I no longer read to my son at bed time; he reads for himself and lately, his focus has been on comics and graphic novels.  As a result, I’ve been getting hooked on graphic novels myself (although admittedly the fascination for this genre started for me when I was a teen and had access to Japanese manga even though I couldn’t always read them very well) so I have decided to start reviewing graphic novels in future posts while still also doing the occasional Books at Bedtime post to cover those titles I read with my daughter.

However, as with many things in life, there are cross-overs and overlaps.  While perusing the graphic novel shelf at the library, my daughter found one for herself and brought it over to me.  The Boy, the Bear, The Baron, the Bard by Australian Gregory Rogers (Roaring Book Press, 2004) is a story set in Elizabethan England told entirely in images drawn by Rogers.   You would think a book like this wouldn’t be appropriate for bedtime reading, but quite the contrary!  My daughter, having perused the book, brought it to bed with her and asked if we could narrate the story together, playing the different parts of the characters depicted (which include, needless to say, the title characters including Bard Shakespeare.)  This was a totally appropriate way to read this book, considering that it featured the famous playwright himself and the world of theatre.  And we had fun, moreover, doing it!

Do you ever read graphic novels to your children at bedtime?  Tell me if you do; I’d love to hear of your experiences.  As children become more increasingly focused on the visual medium through the use of computers (we’re fast approaching the age of reading off our Kindles and Ipads to our children at night), reading graphic novels to our kids may well be the middle road of compromise!

Continuing along the lines of our current How Children Play Around the World theme, I have been re-reading two beautiful picture books I was introduced to in Bologna, thanks to Corinne’s meeting with Corinne (Australian author Corinne Fenton) at the SCWBI stand. Both of them, by Corinne, make perfect bedtime stories, though Queenie: One Elephant’s Story (Black Dog Books (Australia), 2006) may need a bit of discussion time afterwards as part of it is very sad.

Queenie tells the true story of Queenie the elephant who, towards the end of the nineteenth century, was trapped as a young calf by hunters in India and shipped to Australia, where she took up residence at Melbourne Zoo. She became one of the main attractions, giving rides tirelessly. Children would leave apples and peanuts for her aroud her circuit and wrote letters to her, telling her how much they loved her. Then, sadly, in 1945, an accident, compounded by food shortages during the Second World War, meant that she was destroyed. The book ends on a positive note, pausing to feel Queenie’s spirit among the elephants now enjoying the Trail of the Elephants at Melbourne Zoo, but a deep sadness nevertheless remains. Corinne’s narrative is unflinching and as gentle as Queenie herself – and Peter Gouldthorpe’s beautiful illustrations evoke the bygone era they depict, echoing early tinted photography.

On Corinne’s website, you can read a bit more about Queenie and see a photograph – and there are also teachers’ notes.

Flame Stands Waiting, illustrated by Sebastian Ciaffaglione (Black Dog Books, 2010) is also set in Melbourne – but this time the focus is on the carousel ride that can still be found at Melbourne Luna Park. While the illustrations have a 1930s feel about them, they are brought right up to date by a bold use of perspective that exactly suits the excitement of a carousel ride: and Corinne’s present tense narrtative does exactly the same.

Flame is one of the horses on the carousel, but he is sad because unlike the other horses, he can’t move up and down – until, that is, he discovers how to fly in his imagination, thanks to one little girl’s whisper in his ear: “We are going to fly into the clouds, over the stars and even beyond the moon! We can go anywhere we please.” I can see this lovely story becoming a firm favorite, asked for again and again before happy listeners head off into their own dreams – maybe even riding a pearly carousel horse…

Why Can’t I Play? A story about making friends by Elizabeth Hawkins and illustrated by Bill Bolton (Tamarind Books, 2010) starts off with plenty of reasons that young listeners will pick up on straight away as to why the children at the sandpit shouldn’t let Becca “the new girl” play with them. She blocks tunnels, spoils drawings in the sand and knocks down castles. When Thomas and the other children tell her to go away, she retaliates with the dreadful crocodiles and high prison tower etc. that she has for people like them at her house.

A few days later, Becca’s mother hands out Becca’s birthday invitations. The parents are glad to accept on behalf of their children, so they reluctantly go, worried about the terrors awaiting them at Becca’s house. Of course the parallel scenarios, such as the castellated treehouse, all turn out to be great fun and Becca herself is a fun playmate. Becca’s birthday wish, when she blows out her candles, is very telling: “I wish I could play with you in the park.” and the next day she does indeed ask to play with the other children. “Of course,” said Thomas, “You only had to ask!”

But did she? Why Can’t I Play? really is an excellent story about making friends, with universal appeal for young children, and this is emphasised by the inclusive diversity of the illustrations. The story shows how the hand of friendship has to be stretched from both sides. Becca’s behavior is inexcusable and will probably set young listeners against her – but by the time we get to the end, they might have realised that her meanness is also a result of her insecurity as a “new girl” (and we only find out her name when her mother hands out the party invitations – I suspect, like the other children in the story). So, while Becca is not exactly helping herself by being horrid to the other children, the story also reminds children of the importance of being welcoming towards newcomers, whether it’s at their local park or in their class at school.

And don’t forget, our current issue of PaperTigers is all about How Children Play Around the World, so if you haven’t already, head on over…

A while back, I wrote a Books at Bedtime  blog post about a book called Shin-chi’s Canoe by Nicola Campbell.  This book was about a young aboriginal boy who is taken away from his family to go to a residential school.  The history of residential schools in Canada is long and painful.  The impact of this education on young vulnerable aboriginal children was devastating and continues to affect many of the survivors today.  The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada was formed by the Canadian government to address the situation.  Its mandate is to learn about what happened in the residential schools and to inform all Canadians about the schools and their impact on aboriginals in Canada.

The Commission will enact its mandate through various national events, one of which has begun here in my hometown of Winnipeg.  Tonight, aboriginal authors and storytellers will gather to talk about the residential school experience in an evening of readings and discussion called “Writing Truth, Imagining Reconciliation.”  Although the event is not so much for children as about them under a particular and alienating system of education, it is of relevance to anyone who seeks to acknowledge and redress one of Canada’s historical wrongs.  For its part, PaperTigers has highlighted the Canadian First Nations community and its writings in its April-May 2010 issue.  Do check it out!

I vaguely remember the time my Japanese mother became a Canadian citizen.  It was 1974.  I was ten at the time and in elementary school.  I recall her studying for the citizenship test — learning the provinces of Canada, finding out about how parliament worked, reading about the history of Canada’s formation.  She probably knew more about Canada than I did at the time!   I don’t recall ever attending a ceremony, although she tells me she did go to one at a federal government office downtown.

The Day I Became a Canadian Citizen by Jo Bannatyne-Cugnet, illustrated by Song Nan Zhang (Tundra Books, 2008) is the story of how a Chinese girl, Xiao Ling Li, and her family become Canadian citizens.   The ceremony is held on Feb. 15, National Flag Day.  Xiao receives a gift of red shoes from her Aunt T.  Red is an auspicious color for the Chinese as well as being a representative color of Canada, so everyone wears a bit of red to the ceremony.  It is held at Xiao’s school gym in Toronto.

The judge, Dr. Williamson, who presides over the ceremony was himself an immigrant from Scotland twenty years ago, and he happily grants citizenship to Xiao’s family.  Other recipients include the Nguyen family, and two friends of Xiao’s — Sophia and Maria — whose family were refugees from Ethiopia.  At the end of the line of recipients of the citizenship certificate is a woman whom the judge gives an extra big hug to.  Xiao wonders who it is.  The judge remarks afterwards that it is his wife — a new Canadian originally from Greenland!

Being born a Canadian, I don’t know what it feels like to become one.  But reading The Day I Became a Canadian, I got a child’s glimpse of what becoming a citizen must be like — a bit of an adventure in discovering oneself in a new identity yet to be forged.  As Judge Williamson says, “Very few Canadians share a common past, but all of us share a common future.”

PaperTigers’ current issue focuses on Canadian aboriginal literature.  I’d like to tell you about a quirkily illustrated and humorous aboriginal children’s title called  Jenneli’s Dance by Elizabeth Denny, illustrated by Chris Auchter (Theytus Books, 2008).  Jenneli is a Metis girl who’s a bit different-looking than her classmates:

She had darker hair and skin and her eyes were an unusual colour. It was as if they could not decide whether to be brown or green.

Jenneli’s one joy in life is doing the Red River Jig — something she has learned from her Grandma Lucee who lives in the small town of Lakeside, Manitoba.  One day, Grandma Lucee enters Jenneli into the jigging contest at the Lakeside fair.  Jenneli is horrified.  Will she do it?  Is she up to the challenge?

What I liked most about this book were the illustrations by Chris Auchter.  There’s something about the ‘flavor’ of the drawings and the details presented that gives the story a feeling of contemporary aboriginal life.  In the illustration of Grandma Lucee’s living room, there’s a picture of Elvis Presley hanging on the wall beside a macrame plant holder dangling from the ceiling.   There’s a magazine on the floor by Grandma’s knitting chair called “Inquiring Minds: Elvis Sightings.”  When Jenneli chokes on her bannock on hearing the news that her grandma has entered her into a jigging contest, the two are sitting outside at a picnic table with a funny looking bison observing them with a large bird (possibly an eagle?) flapping away into the distance.  It’s a Red River sort of scene, all right, done with the right symbols but with a touch of humor.

If you want to read a good aboriginal children’s title to your child at bedtime, I’d certainly recommend Jenneli’s Dance.

When Gecko complains to Raden, the jungle’s chief and a lion, about the fireflies that are keeping him awake, he sets in motion a string of complaints as each culprit of one animal’s complaint blames his actions on another’s behaviour. Eventually Raden is brought face to face with Rain:

When he reached Mount Batur’s highest peak, Chief Raden roared loudly, “Rain, why are you ruining the jungle pathways and causing so many problems for the animals?”

While waiting for Rain’s reply, Chief Raden dropped to the ground in exhaustion. Looking out over Bali, he saw sparkling rivers, blue skies filled with drifting clouds and endless hills of green. Raindrops fell, cooling his tired body. [...]

Raden then understood he was asking a very foolish question.

He returns home and delivers a few home truths to the animals about remembering all that Rain provides, and tells them to stop complaining but learn to live “in peace with one another”. By being considerate to their fellow creatures and recognising that there is much to appreciate in their own lives, they do in fact find themselves with little to complain about.

Gecko’s Complaint/ Keluhan Sang Tokek, a Balinese folktale, retold by Ann Martin Bowler and sumptuously illustrated by Balinese artist I Gusti Made Sukanada (Periplus Editions) is available both in English and, as of this year, as a bilingual book with English and Indonesian text. It is definitely a fable whose meaning has bearing on the lives of us humans. Chief Raden is a respected authority figure who listens and is decisive and fair – a role model who will also be respected by young listeners of the story. At the same time, the narrative doesn’t fall into the trap of being didactic but provides plenty of room for characterisation and humor to come through. The vibrant illustrations are full of jungle wildlife and we love the vignettes of animals, birds and flowers scattered through the text. Perhaps it’s an unreasonable quibble, but if another edition is ever planned, it would be great to have an appendix saying what they all are; it would provide a good counterbalance to the introduction, which gives an interesting overview of Indonesia and Bali in particular.

Ann talks a little about writing the book in her interview with PaperTigers – and I have to say, I’d love to know more about what she describes as the “adventure” of working with I Gusti Made Sukanada to create the book. She has also written a song, Complaining, to accompany the book – it’s available on her website.

To read a little more about how Gecko’s Complaint fits into Indonesian folklore, read this review from the Bali Advertiser. Many cultures feature animal fables in their traditional story-telling – do you have any particular favorites that you’d recommend as a bedtime story?

Each of the four stories in Arctic Adventures – Tales from the Lives of Inuit Artists, retold by Raquel Rivera and illustrated by Jirina Marton (Groundwood Books/ House of Anansi Press, 2007), makes a perfect bedtime story – but be ready to count in some extra time to look at the short biography of the artist protagonist in each one, along with an example of the art. This corelation between each story and an artist makes this a very special book. Older Brother read it on his own for the PaperTigers Reading Challenge in 2008 and you can read his reaction to it here.

All the stories describe events in the artists’ lives before their move away from the traditional Inuit way of life, through circumstances that are explained in each case. In “Pudlo and Kapik Go Hunting”, a hunting trip nearly ends in disaster when artist Pudlo Pudlat’s nephew Kapiq is stranded on an ice floe; “Kenojuak and the Goddess of the Sea”, describes Kenojuak Ashevak’s childhood encounter with Talelayu, Goddess of the Sea; in “Oonark’s Arctic Adventure” we join Jessie Oonark on her perilous journey “in off the land” in the Back River Area to Baker Lane; and Lazarusie Ishulutak shared his experiences with the author of two very different encounters with polar bears, for “Lazarusie and the Polar Bears”. Through the narrative young readers/listeners (and indeed adult readers) will absorb many details of Inuit culture – and there’s a map and a good glossary at the end too, as well as suggested further reading and an author’s note giving details of her sources for each story.

Marton’s atmospheric and expressive pastel illustrations transport readers to the Frozen North and provide a coherence between the stories – and the photograph of the artist that follows each story in a double-page spread, along with biographical details and discussion of their artwork, adds a very special dimension to the book that will intrigue young listeners/readers. And this is where sharing the book comes into its own, as the realisation that these stories happened to real, identifable people is something young people will want to talk through. And, of course, there are some interesting anecdotes too – like the following:

“When Pudlo was a child, he liked to draw on the walls of his family’s iglus, especially on the ice windows. But mothers discourage their children from doing this.

“Don’t carve up the wall, ” Pudlo’s mother would tell him.

Pudlo didn’t begin drawing on paper until the 1960s, when he was in his mid forties.”

So next time your small person gets creative on your walls…

And in the meantime, do seek out this beautiful book.