For our current issue on How Children Play Around the World, we asked several authors and illustrators to tell us about their Memories of Playtimes Past. Together, they paint a vivid picture of childhood around the world and reveal the power of imagination – something that still plays such an important role in all their lives as adults, and in the lives of kids today. Illustrator Mandana Sadat, whose own contribution is just wonderful, was struck after reading the whole article by the similarities in the different experiences of play – do read Aline’s post discussing this.

The first author up is Tanita Davis:

Growing up the youngest of three sisters (in Martinez, California) meant being left out of the older girls’ games. To placate me, I was named Mom’s “helper” and my playtimes combined chores and daydreaming. I would sit on the back porch and shuck corn from the garden, or weed the front yard – and then taking the silk from the corn, combine it with dirt and water, and make “pies” for the dog to eat (Our poor dog. She really did eat them.), or take the “milk” from the stems of the dandelions I was supposed to be eradicating from the front yard (after blowing all of the milkweed clocks and sufficiently re-seeding them throughout the lawn), and use it as glue to adhere dry weeds to the “head” of a cornhusk doll.

Because I was a quiet kid, I got away with a lot – climbing the tree next to my father’s shed, and making a tree-house of sorts on the roof, complete with its own chamber pot (Oh, I got in trouble when my mother found out about THAT) and store of slightly mildew books scavenged from a teacher’s throw-away pile. One summer I played with the hose and made carefully dried adobe “moccasins” that were no more than ten or twelve layers of clay mud I wore on the bottom of my feet as shoes. They lasted for a surprisingly long time before they cracked. As the layers dried, I would lie on my back in the yard and listen to the drone of the planes going to and from the Air Force base, and imagine they were taking people to adventures, just like I would have someday.

And Belle Yang brings the article to a flourishing close:

I was born on the subtropical island of Taiwan. The front yard was the rice paddies, alive with tadpoles like music notes on sheet music. The Sleeping Dragon Mountain, exploding with firecracker red azaleas, was my backyard. Rivulets, home to small fish and crustaceans, came rushing down the hills. My barefoot friends and I looked for tiny crabs as they crawled among the stones, dappled by sunlight and the motion of wind in the acacia.

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We caught the crabs and tied white sewing thread to one of their many legs. We took them for walks on the paved paths of the schoolyard, where my parents taught high school. I was delighted with my pet that could only walk sideways.

Do read the rest of the Memories of Playtimes Past – between them, Alan Gratz, Mandana Sadat, Jorge Argueta, Neni Sta Romana Cruz, Chris Cheng, Demi and Larry Loyie, along with Tanita and Belle quoted above, will evoke a smile, or even a laugh out loud – and certainly memories of one’s own childhood… And if you’d care to share some of those with us, we’d love to hear them!

A couple of days ago I received the following note from author/illustrator Mandana Sadat, who contributed to the group feature Memories of Playtimes Past, currently featured on our website:

I found it interesting and surprising to see that so many people seemed to have very similar experiences of play. Do you think this is because you asked children’s and young adult book authors and illustrators, who, in spite of being from different cultures, may have similar kinds of sensibilities? Or are these experiences truly universal? I wonder what would have happened if you had asked doctors or teachers, for instance. Would they have similar stories to share, or something totally different?

I think this is a very good question, and I extend it to all teachers, engineers, scientists, technicians, craftsmen, etc out there. We would love to hear your thoughts. And while we wait for your feedback, I’ll venture an answer.

I do think the impulse to play creatively and to push the boundaries of reality is universal, and that the similarities between people’s experiences of free play and of spending time in the outdoors tells us that the excitement of playing in a tree house or of going on an imaginary adventure, for instance, knows no cultural, language or geographical boundaries. For the feature “Memories of Playtimes Past”, we specifically asked people to write about their experiences of unstructured play. Would we have gotten a different response had we asked about the organized games they played? Probably so.

As Anna Weistein says on her article Outdoor Summer Play, when children play outdoors they can “talk louder, run faster, jump higher, and get dirtier”. The organized games we played as children may have had different names, objectives, rules, but I believe that the nature of the creative play we all experienced is indeed very similar, and the source of a good portion of our happy, lasting memories. I also believe that the development of loving, creative individuals, capable of empathy, of working together and acting from strong-hearted convictions, whatever their profession, is directly related to their experiences of play as children. But that’s just me… I’d be very interested in hearing what others think.

For those joining now, this conversation on the ways children play started here.

Well, the Bologna Book Fair has been and gone for another year and once again it passed in a whirlwind of activity. Between an action-packed schedule and internet connection frustrations, we didn’t manage to post quite as often during the Fair as we had hoped, but now we’re back at our desks, we will be presenting various highlights over the coming weeks. So here are some special moments from the first day:

“A Morning of Korean Picture Books Showcasing Family.” The photo shows picture-book writer/illustrator Cho Hae-ran’s brushes and paints, and some of the exquisite little books produced by children she has worked with. I’ll be writing about this whole session properly soon…

The announcements of IBBY’s Awards – see Corinne’s post…

A Q&A session with Shaun Tan and publishing consultant Helen Chamberlain in the illustrators’ café – we’ll definitely have more about that soon too.

The opening of the Poemas de Compañía exhibition, featuring Isol’s illustrations for Pantuflas de perrito, poems by Jorge Luján about pets, based on some workshops he did with children. It was great to see Jorge and a delight to meet Mandana Sadat, illustrator of another of Jorge’s books, Winter Afternoon, a favorite of mine, as well as Jorge’s Spanish and Italian publishers – not to mention the Principessa dei Gelati!

You can see more photos from Day 1 here.

An event on the first morning of the Bologna Book Fair set the tone for Aline’s and my enjoyment of the whole experience, when we heard British poet Michael Rosen and Argentine-Mexican poet Jorge Luján taking part in a packed-out seminar about “Poetry in Children’s Books”.

Michael Rosen started his presentation with an interactive recitation of his poem “This is the Hand” (here’s a link to it but “slip” in the 3rd stanza should read “slid”!), and then went on to talk about how he became a poet, almost despite the way poetry had been taught in schools when he was a boy (1950’s England: “we like poems where nothing happens and people are a little bit sad and don’t know why”!)…

As well as being a very entertaining speaker, who also charmed his audience with a poem he had written the day before about his day in Bologna, he had some very salient points to make about why it is so important to include poetry in the school curriculum. He compared reading a poem to looking at a photograph in an album: it freezes time for a moment and “you can put it up in front of you and can look at it again and again”. He pointed out that this kind of contemplation and reflection are very important for children and that in education there are not many opportunities to do this without having an answer to all the questions. Poetry provides a different way of investigating reality – through suggestion or illustration perhaps – which reverberates in people’s minds and opens the way to a different sort of dialogue. “Stories usually have to conclude; poems can end with a question.”

Jorge Luján began (more…)

Cloudscome at A Wrung Sponge is hosting this week’s Poetry Friday – and in her post she suggests putting poems out into the “face-to-face world” as well as through blogging… hmm, now there’s an idea…

Nights are drawing in here in the UK, as we move towards wintertime but in the southern hemisphere, the world is heading into summer: so here are two beautiful picture-books which each contain a poem – one for winter and one for summer. One thing is certain: reading time will feel warm, whichever one you read; and they are such a visual treat too, that really they have to be a face-to face encounter.

The first is Jorge Luján’s poem Tarde de Invierno, translated into English as Winter Afternoon by Elisa Amado and empathetically illustrated by Mandana Sadat. It’s a short poem about a child looking out into the winter’s evening, waiting for her mother to come home: and when she does, the hug fits perfectly into the “vidrio del portarretrato”/ “the frosty frame” – so that the focus suddenly swings round and the little girl, the observer, is now the observed. And what a beautiful picture it is too. My children like this poem because it’s full of love. I like it , yes, for that reason too: but also because it helps to assuage some of the inevitable guilt of being a working mother…

The other poem transports us to the heat of the Australian Outback. Annaliese Porter was only eight years old when she wrote the poem – so this would also be a great classroom resource for raising aspiration. Here’s a small taste:

On Uluru there are many shades
on the rocky eye –
browns and reds mingling
into a rich earthy dye.

Uluru is immediately recognisable in Bronwyn Bancroft‘s glorious depiction – and indeed her illustrations sizzle all the way through the book.