Possum Magic, written by Mem Fox and illustrated by Julie Vivas (1983)

I have long been a fan of Australian picture book author and literacy scholar Mem Fox; Boo to a Goose (1996) is one of my all-time favorites, and Time for Bed (1993) was the one book I read to Miss E on a nightly basis when she was an infant and toddler.  But somehow I managed to miss her most famous book, Possum Magic, until I spied it at a library sale a few weeks ago.   I ended up paying 25 cents for it but would have happily paid 25 dollars.

The storyline is simple but glorious.  Grandma Poss has used her magic to make Hush invisible, and thus not vulnerable to snakes. When Hush gets older, she asks Grandma to reverse the spell, only Grandma can't remember how to do it, only recalling that "[i]t's something to do with food! People food---not possum food."  What's a pair of possums to do?  Set out on a bicycle tour of Australia, of course, stopping to taste signature dishes at different points along the way!  Fox's prose is well-balanced and lyrical, making for an exquisite read-aloud.  Illustrations by watercolorist Julie Vivas are delicate yet witty, her animal figures   a perfect blend of realism and whimsy.

This is a---if not the---quintessential Australian picture book.  According to Fox's website, it's Australia's "best-selling picture book ever."  It's still being published in hardcover after almost 30 years, and has been performed as a musical and has inspired an orchestral piece.  And honestly, sometimes this makes for some momentary discomfort for American adult readers.  Geographical, cultural, and wildlife references are unfamiliar, and Fox doesn't cater to American sensibilities by explicitly identifying them as she goes.  The bush animals are recognizable through inference but are not labeled; cities and culinary specialties are clarified on the final page, through a map and short glossary, but first-time readers won't know to look for them.  But this is something that I really appreciate about it.  I admire its authenticity.  I like that it doesn't change "Philosopher's Stone" to "Sorcerer's Stone" and assume that we are too dumb or too lazy to figure out that a "torch" is a flashlight.   And I love that it challenges us to be cultural travelers rather than cultural tourists, to accept some uncertainty and confusion as we take responsibility for the work of cultural interpretation ourselves rather than expecting "others" to translate for us. 

Bonus: Watch a video version, narrated by Fox herself, here.

Miss E's Read:  "I don't have a favorite part.  I like all of it."  And she was not the least bit flustered by the wombats and Lamington ;)

The Scrambled States of America, by Laurie Keller (1998)

Unlike many of the other books I've been blogging about, this one is not one I selected for its aesthetic appeal or literary awards.  Miss E had been expressing curiosity about the 50 States, and we stumbled on this title in the library.  Though I am often skeptical about "concept" books---I hate it when a book's didacticism overpowers its story---I'm glad to have found this one.  And Miss E has put it into very heavy rotation, requesting back-to-back reads two nights in a row and giggling the whole way through.

The premise of the book is the fifty states, bored with sitting in the same place, overhearing the same neighbors, get together for a party and decide to try switching places.  Needless to say, the novelty quickly wears off and the experiment is short-lived, but the journey is supremely silly and at time truly witty.  Keller manages to render each state distinctively through the playful addition of simple but remarkably expressive facial features.  The text can appeal differently to younger and to somewhat older readers---younger children can enjoy the primary narrative while older ones (and adults) can also engage the more complex (though still joyfully absurd) humor of the marginalia and other textual detail (picture Colorado boasting of its ability to tap dance or Wisconsin inflicting cheese on lactose-intolerant California).  The last few pages of the book offer portraits of each individual state beaming proudly (accompanied by nickname, capital, size, and population) as well as a very funny two-page comic spread imagining some of the scrambled encounters (the Space Needle trying to imitate the Gateway Arch, a confrontation between gangs of Iowa corn and Idaho potatoes, Alabama peanuts hiking in the Rockies, etc.)

Worth Noting: 

•   Some of the marginalia and smaller detail are presented in very small lettering, not such a good thing if your bedtime reading space is dimly lit or if...well...the things you liked in high school are now labeled "retro."
• Keller's website includes a small but interesting selection of educator-support materials.
• If you enjoy this book, there is a sequel:  The Scrambled States of America: Talent Show.

Miss E's Read:  LOVE LOVE LOVES the idea of a state scramble.  Also adores the picture of Vermont hugging a fiercely sunburned Minnesota, who youches loudly in response.  And the page where Tennessee keeps dropping its fork.

Big Wolf and Little Wolf: The Little Leaf That Wouldn't Fall, by Nadine Brun-Cosme and Olivier Tallec (2009)

This is the second in a series of (so far) three "Big Wolf and Little Wolf" stories by the French team of Nadine Brun-Cosme (author) and Olivier Tallec (illustrator).  The first book, Big Wolf and Little Wolf, was a Batchelder Honor Book in 2010, Batchelder being the ALA award for foreign language children's books that have been translated into English). And it's one of the most gentle, understated, and magical books on our shelf.

The story opens by taking us through four seasons of waiting, as Little Wolf watches the most beautiful leaf he's ever seen go from "sweet and tender green" to "shiny deep green" to "soft brown" and finally to "the beautiful black of cinders."  Realizing that the leaf will not fall on its own---and knowing how badly Little Wolf wants to hold it, Big Wolf decides one winter morning to make the treacherous climb needed to retrieve it, something he does "for no reason at all.  Just to see Little Wolf's eyes sparkle."  What happens when he gets there reminds us of the exquisite beauty of the ephemeral, the power of nature to touch our souls in ways we can't explain, and the joy both giver and recipient derive from random, crazy acts of devotion. 

One of the really interesting---and ultimately really wonderful---aspects of The Leaf That Wouldn't Fall is that the nature of the relationship between the two wolves is ambiguously rendered, such that it can accommodate a range of readings and resonate on different levels.  Most reviewers of the first Big Wolf, Little Wolf book, which describes the first meetings of the two main characters, describe the two as friends, eliciting comparisons to Lobel's Frog and Toad.  But reading the books out of order also invites us to see their bond (at least in the second book) as a parent-child relationship, as Miss E and I both did.  Either way, the warmth of Brun-Cosme's deceptively simple tale, perfectly paired with (and set off against) Tallec's spare, muted, often lonely winter paintings makes this a very memorable book.

Miss E's Read:

Duck! Rabbit! by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Tom Lichtenheld (2009)

Duck! Rabbit! (which you can view on YouTube here) is another one of those deceptively simple books that is as fun---and as profound---for adults as it is for kids.  Heck, I've even brought it to my college lit classes both to talk about how a text might legitimately be interpreted in two contradictory ways and to illustrate the crucial role that context plays in shaping interpretation.

This book is one of four collaborations by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Tom Lichtenheld (along with Yes Day!, The OK Book, and It's Not Fair).  In addition to making children's books, Krouse Rosenthal writes adult books (most famously her memoir Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life) and makes films; Lichtenheld is an art director.

Each page of the book revisits the classic duck/rabbit image shown on the cover, with slightly different contextual details.  The text---comprised of two contradictory "voices"---repeatedly tries to direct the readers' interpretation of the image ("See, there's his bill." "What are you talking about? Those are ears, silly.")  The illustrations are skillfully rendered in thick black ink and watercolor.   Their clarity and simplicity, echoed in the crisp diction, perfectly balances the complex epistemological concept behind the book, making it accessible and fun (I'm totally serious) for all ages. 

Miss E's Read:  This book quacks her up every time.

P.S.  A Teacher's Guide and fun E-Postcards (among other things) are available here.

Ling and Ting: Not Exactly the Same, by Grace Lin (2010)

Now that Miss E is becoming old enough to enjoy mixing a few early readers in with her nightly picture books, I have a new appreciation for the ALA's new-ish Theodor Seuss Geisel book award.  The Geisel award committee recognizes exceptional books in the "early reader" category.  And this is a category where, even as a kiddie lit prof, I often have trouble identifying books I want to bring home and share.  For though "early readers" include many wonderful, classic stories (Seuss, Frog and Toad, Amelia Bedelia, etc), it's also a far more restrictive category than the picture book.  Authors are very limited in terms of vocabulary, sentence length, and sentence structure, while illustrators must typically conform to a smaller page size, accommodate more text, and fill more pages.  Thus extraordinary titles---those that delight our eyes and ears and engage our imaginations---are seriously outnumbered by more strictly didactic titles, including a great number of cheaply produced "licensed character" books.

Ling and Ting: Not Exactly the Same, a 2011 Geisel Honor Book certainly did delight and engage us.  This is the first early reader from the very talented Grace Lin, who has previously authored and/or illustrated over twenty picture books as well as four novels (including the 2010 Newbery Honor book Where the Mountain Meets the Moon).  And I certainly hope it won't be the last.

The book is comprised of six stories, each about seven pages long and unified by a color palette, describing the everyday adventures of twins Ling and Ting, whose nearly identical appearance (and always identical dresses) means they are often declared "exactly the same" despite their very different personalities.  The first five stories and their accompanying paintings---which recount a haircut, a magic trick, dumpling making (and eating), and a trip to the library---showcase the girls' vitality and the author/illustrator's gentle humor while reinforcing the central theme.  The sixth story brings together the previous five in clever and surprising ways.  Throughout, the girls accept each others' differences with patience and understanding but also rejoice in their special bond as twins, inviting us to do the same.  Moreover, in developing this universal theme, Lin also succeeds in subtly challenging a persistent (and specific) Asian American stereotype (something she raises in her author's note).

Miss E's Read:  She especially likes the "Making Dumplings" chapter, both because "dumpling" is a fun word to say and because the dumplings are stuffed with meat, which her mostly-vegetarian mom eschews.

Children Make Terrible Pets, By Peter Brown (2010)

Peter Brown is, unlike the other author/illustrators we've been reading, fairly new to the picture book scene.  This is his sixth book, and it's both laugh-out-loud funny and unexpectedly resonant.

On the book jacket, Brown explains the incident that inspired his story: "When I was a child, I once found a frog in the woods and brought it home to be my pet.  My mom was not happy.  'Would you like it if a wild animal made YOU its pet?' she asked.  'To which I replied, 'Absolutely!"

Through whimsical images and all-too-familiar dialogue ("You can keep him on ONE condition.  Squeaker is YOUR responsibility. I will not take care of him for you," Brown tells the story of what happens when one (tutu-wearing) Lucille Beatrice Bear brings home a little boy named Squeaker.  The playfulness of both the story and the illustrations also drives the form.  Brown embraces an eclectic combination of media: "pencil on paper, with cut construction paper and wood and a wee bit of digital tweaking" (as he explains in the author's note).  Similarly, he blends more traditional picture book conventions with those of the graphic novel, putting the entire narrative in text boxes and hand-lettered word bubbles.  The result is a delightful volume that feels simultaneously nostalgic (most dramatically through its intentionally yellowed pages and sepia endpapers) and unmistakably 21st century.

Bonus:  The word bubbles invite adults and children reading together to each take a "part;" even pre-readers can manage Squeakers role since he can only say "Squeak!"

Miss E's Read: Her favorite page is the last one, where Lucy Bear meets her next "pet"; she couldn't stop giggling when she thought about the havoc-potential (which is admittedly significant!).

On Your Toes: A Ballet ABC, by Rachel Isadora (2003)

Prior to stumbling across this volume in our local library, I had associated Rachel Isadora primarily with her African-inspired picture book adaptations of fairy and folk tales.  As it turns out, though, Isadora's first career was as a professional ballet dancer who had studied with the School of American Ballet.  And fortunately for us, she has produced a number of ballet-themed picture books ranging from adaptations of The Nutcracker and Swan Lake to Max, her revolutionary 1976 story of a boy who joins his sister's ballet class, to her Lili series.  In the near future, Miss E and I will no doubt track these down, because Miss E loves ballet, we both admire Isadora's lovely paintings, and I've had my fill of gooey pink-tulle books.

Certainly the highlight of this book is Isadora's gorgeous pastels of child dancers (a multiracial cast of boys and girls).  But I also appreciate the difficulty of making an alphabet book on this theme.  While a few of her word choices initially seem too general and forced (like "Sleep"and "Yarn"), most of them work very well, and even the few that don't are convincingly accounted for in the glossary, which also offers phonetic spellings of French terms.   Many of the images depict costumes and set designs from real ballets, not only the more familiar Nutcracker and Swan Lake but also bolder choices like Firebird and A Midsummer Night's Dream; these, too, are explained in the glossary in an interesting and age-appropriate way.  Ultimately, this deceptively simple book is both enjoyable for young dancers and sophisticated enough to engage grownups.

Miss E's Read: Two enthusiastic thumbs up for the "X Marks the Spot" page, which features her favorite ballet character Clara.  Two fierce thumbs down for the "Pas de Chat" page.  Because you can't look at the picture and not want to try it.  But if you're a beginner trying it alone without a teacher, you are bound to land squarely on your butt.  Repeatedly.  On hardwood floors.  And even if you're four, this kind of hurts.
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