A child plays, turning a stick into a magic wand, a sword, a baton or a microphone. In Jackie Azúa Kramer’s poetic picture book, The Green Umbrella (North South, 2017), illustrated with luminous enchantment by Maral Sassouni, animals stake their claims (in eloquent soliloquies) to Elephant’s umbrella. To Hedgehog it’s a sorely missed boat, to Cat— a tent, to Bear— a flying machine, and Rabbit thinks it’s his missing walking cane. As Elephant explains to each one why he is certain they are all mistaken, rain ceases and the sun comes out. They share a picnic in the shade of the green umbrella, which, like “the great green room” in Margery Wise Brown’s classic Goodnight, Moon, encompasses all. The umbrella is now a home for promising friendships and a launching pad for further adventures. Searching for comparable picture books that combine the themes of loss, sharing and perception, I found the closest match in Who Took the Farmer’s Hat? by Joan L. Nodset, illustrated by Fritz Siebel (Harper & Row, 1963). A farmer loses his beloved, old brown hat to the wind. Searching for it, “The farmer ran fast, but the wind went faster.” Animals he meets as he searches have all seen his hat, but have taken it for something else. Squirrel thought it was a brown bird. Mouse saw a mouse hole in the grass. Fly saw a hill in a tree, Goat— a flowerpot, Duck— a boat, Bird— a nest. The farmer climbs up to the nest and finds an egg in his hat. Loath to disturb it, he tells bird that although it “looks a little like my old brown hat,” he can see it is a nest, after all. He buys himself a new brown hat that looks very much like the old one that (in the final spread) is now filled with baby birds. In both of these delightful books, sharing is the reward, a message that seems to me more vital than ever now. The late, lamented author, Amy Krouse Rosenthal, dealt with this theme of the rewards of loss in Chopsticks (Disney-Hyperion, 2012), wittily illustrated by Scott Magoon. An inseparable pair of chopsticks (“practically attached at the hip”) must learn to go it alone when one is injured. Exploring new possibilities (playing pick up sticks, pole vaulting, etc.) a solo chopstick expands his repertoire. Reunited, the sticks discover great new ways to repurpose themselves. The book ends with a rousing piano finale. Chopsticks, of course. Pablo Neruda wrote his poems in green ink, “the color of hope.” Walt Whitman asked, “What is the grass?” and answered with poetic speculations. In my poetry workshop, Ways of Sensing (inspired by Whitman and the Wallace Stevens poem, Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird), a third grader gave an answer that Whitman had not considered: Grass is a green thread, sewing the Earth. These three picture books about perception highlight, in varied colors, ways that loss can strengthen bonds, stitching us all together.
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By Miranda Paul 1. Idea 2. Research and "mulling" 3. Draft 4. Revise 5. Bang your head against a wall** 6. Revise and polish Those, roughly, are my six stages of writing. **But stage five deserves explanation. What does "Bang Your Head Against a Wall" mean? This can take many forms, from lamenting to your spouse to curling in a ball and repeating "I quit" over and over. Gentler forms of stage five involve me staring into space, taking a hike, or distracting myself with Internet memes. It's a horrible and seemingly unproductive stage, but it's a necessary one if I'm to produce a manuscript I'm proud of, and proud to tell students about when I visit their schools. If a story wasn't a challenge to write at some point in the process, it's probably not the best it can be. And why submit or publish something unfinished? Every time it would be read aloud, you'd have to hear all the places you "shoulda, coulda, woulda" done more work. A little head banging now saves many "what ifs" later. Your writing process may have different stages. And certainly, our careers have different stages. Cycles, seasons, and phases are all part of any journey. Our characters and manuscripts should reflect that, too. Ask yourself--does your story have stages? In my upcoming book, called Blobfish Throws A Party, there are subtle stages to how I've laid out the plot. The reasoning behind subtle stages is that the story is based on the old "telephone" game that I played as a child. Changes don't occur all at once, but gradually a problem or message gets twisted and can have chaotic (and humorous!) results. Of course, I made sure that the most chaotic (and humorous) stage of the message-passing is the last one. It's important to order your stages in a way that build anticipation rather than diminish it. (Unless it's a wind-down bedtime book, perhaps.) In addition to the plot stages, my main character also goes through emotional stages. Blobfish Throws a Party begins with a character who lives at the bottom of the sea. The dark, lonely bottom of the sea. Roughly, Blobfish goes through the following four stages:
The stages in this book are very simple - because the book is for young readers, and it's a wacky fantastical text meant solely to entertain. (Plus, it's coupled with delightful illustrations by debut illustrator Maggie Caton!) My point in writing about Blobfish isn't to make his story sound grandiose or complex or literary. But if you analyze even the shortest, simplest picture books, you may begin to recognize distinct shifts or phases to each story. Oh, how cleverly and painstakingly picture book authors craft their work! (I'm constantly in awe of short texts that do so much with so few words.) Now, take a look at your story - have you incorporated shifts or stages that work for your characters and plot? Do they help your readers anticipate what's next or feel the emotion of the text and pictures? If not, simply bang your head against a wall (or desk). It's a legitimate part of the process that your friends and family might never understand. Just continue revising and polishing anyway. In no time, you'll be throwing a party too! Miranda Paul is an award-winning children’s author of both fiction and nonfiction. Her creative nonfiction picture books One Plastic Bag and Water is Water were both named Junior Library Guild selections, and her bedtime romp 10 Little Ninjas was an Amazon Best Book of the Month. Her titles have received starred reviews from School Library Journal and Publisher’s Weekly in addition to being named to several award and state reading lists. Forthcoming titles in 2017 include Blobfish Throws a Party, Are We Pears Yet? and The Great Pasta Escape. Miranda makes regular appearances at schools, conferences, and festivals, and has been a guest presenter at the Library of Congress Young Readers Center along with environmental activist Isatou Ceesay. Miranda is a co-founding member and current mentorship chair for We Need Diverse Books™. She believes in working hard, having fun, and being kind. Connect with her on Twitter (@miranda_paul) and Facebook, or learn more at www.mirandapaul.com. Ask a Librarian with Fifi Abu I was disappointed to read an essay posted online recently by a white male author/illustrator about how to handle the demands of "We Need Diverse Books" without losing any business. That's right. His essay about his experience with including diversity in his books is about how to do it properly so as to not lose any business to authors and illustrators who are people of color. "Sue me for being selfish." he actually writes at one point. He is quite proud of himself for having "worked in" some Spanish, a wheelchair, and a girl wearing a hijab. Then he blames WNDB for requiring that he do so. When his agent urges him to cool it on awkwardly checking off boxes in his work to indicate diversity, he "was pretty pissed off." He creates a list of books made by people who are not the same race as the characters in the book they made in order to argue his case with his agent. Sadly for him, his agent lets him know that each of the books on his list was actually made by a POC the same race as the characters depicted in the book. Oops. Instead of admitting that his agent is right, he reaches out to a friend in the industry who tells him that his inclusion is coming off as a bit forced and inauthentic. This upsets him. But then he realizes that the most important thing is getting published, so he decides to whiten up his characters. "Plain old" is the term he uses to indicate whiteness, the natural default for characters. He seems angry at WNDB for tricking him into thinking that he needs to include brown people in his work. He then writes about talking to two POC in the industry who stress that the industry desperately needs more POC on the creative side as well as the editorial side. He then states that he would prefer to make the books himself, rather than have POC make them, because he wants to make the money. That's when "Sue me for being selfish." comes in. This essay is so incredibly inappropriate and completely off the mark. He never mentions the reason why WNDB exists, only his desire to find workarounds so that he will not lose any business to authors and illustrators of color. His sense of entitlement has him thinking that not only should he get book contracts for projects depicting white people, he deserves to get the contracts for books depicting brown people too. His annoyance at being told that he wasn't doing it well is evident, and instead of taking the advice being given to him, he chooses to argue because he can't possibly imagine that he is wrong. I've heard similar things from Caucasian people in my critique group, proudly showing one page of brown people in their portfolio to satisfy the call from WNDB. I've seen well-executed inclusive books made by white people and very clunky inclusive books made by white people. What never seems to cross anyone's mind is that maybe it's time for white folks to stay in their own lane and let POC tell their own stories. For next month's post and moving forward, please send me questions and topics that you would like to discuss that involve libraries, books, diversity, and the children's literature community. fifiabuillustration@gmail.com Fifi Abu spends her days surrounded by books that have already been created and the rest of her time writing and illustrating books yet to be born. She looks forward to a day when all children can see themselves reflected in the books they read. Ms. Abu holds a master's degree in children's literature and a master's degree in library science, is an active member of SCBWI and a Children's Book Academy graduate. www.fifiabu.com When a deeply loved book is highly problematic: the Tintin syndrome I purchased Herge's Tintin in the Congo for my library's graphic novel collection a few years ago when it was available in the U.S. after many many years out of print. Originally published in black and white as a weekly serial in 1930 and 1931 and then in color in 1946, this volume was not published in English until 2005. Tintin in the Congo is widely recognized as being racist and offensive, with hideous illustrations of colonized Congolese people and insulting depictions of them. So why would I want to add a book to my collection that I found to be distasteful? As a completionist, I knew that there would be public interest in this book. Researchers and grad students and curious individuals, as well as general fans of the Tintin books would have the opportunity to get their hands on something that prior to this re-print had been very difficult to come by. After the decision to purchase the book, the question was where to put it in the collection. Should it be a reference book for in-house use only? Adult graphic novels? A special collection? Or in with the other Tintin books in the children's circulating collection? I chose to have the book in with the other Tintin books because I felt that people would be looking there, so it seemed natural. I also am not a gate-keeper type of librarian, trying to control access to information and materials. I like freedom and I like empowering patrons. I braced myself for objections from the public, for challenges and requests to have Tintin in the Congo removed from the library. The first an only comment came from a member of my staff who was very upset when she saw three copies of the book arrive on a cart of new materials. She thought that I had purchased it by mistake, not knowing what it was. I assured her that the books were purchased deliberately and explained that they had been out of print for many years. We discussed censorship and the buzz that the re-release of this title was creating. I could tell that she doubted my professional capabilities. Children (mostly boys, mostly caucasian) in the wealthy suburb of Boston where I was the Youth Services Supervisor squealed with excitement upon seeing the book. They would flop down on their bellies next to the graphic novels per usual, and begin to hungrily read. No reaction to the racist images, ever. No comments from from the children or their parents. No complaints from anyone in our 42-library network. Only constant circulation of the books as they were requested by patrons in my library and the 41 others. When I think of the types of comments and complaints I have gotten from parents during my career, I cannot believe that Tintin in the Congo did not foster at least one conversation. I had a mother get upset that a middle grade book had a raccoon on the cover, because her fifth grader was afraid of raccoons. I had a mother complain that the female superheroes in our graphic novel collection were wearing clothing that was too tight and therefore inappropriate. I had a mother complain that her fourth grade son had selected the book Superfudge on a school visit to the library because she felt that it would be too challenging for him to read and would upset him. But over Tintin --- not a peep. In library school, we are trained in topics of censorship, of legality, of how to address formal challenges from patrons. We are not trained in how to react when not a single person blinks in response to historical material that is controversial and deeply offensive. I kept my feelings to myself, as it is not my professional role to engage in unsolicited conversations about race and what is offensive to me and what is not. Almost all of the libraries in the network opted not to purchase the re-released edition of Tintin in the Congo. One library has it in their closed stacks, not for circulation; another has it in adult graphic, not children's. Three other libraries have it in French (so not something they purchased as part of the re-release), and one of those three libraries does not circulate the book, but keeps it for library use only. How do you feel about historical books with offensive content? Is it censorship to avoid them completely? Or to limit access? For next month's post and moving forward, please send me questions and topics that you would like to discuss that involve libraries, books, diversity, and the children's literature community. fifiabuillustration@gmail.com Fifi Abu spends her days surrounded by books that have already been created and the rest of her time writing and illustrating books yet to be born. She looks forward to a day when all children can see themselves reflected in the books they read. Ms. Abu holds a master's degree in children's literature and a master's degree in library science, is an active member of SCBWI and a Children's Book Academy graduate. www.fifiabu.com That time of year again: the unbearable whiteness of the CaldecottWhen this photo popped up in my "On This Day" category on Facebook recently (I'm the blur on the left), I was brought back to the excitement of sitting in a packed room last January at the American Library Association Midwinter Conference, hearing the winners of the Youth Media Awards announced. The drama of having a picture book win the Newbery Medal (Last Stop on Market Street illustrated by Christian Robinson, written by Matt de la Peña) had the crowd squealing in a way only a roomful of giddy librarians can squeal. And the racially diverse list of Caldecott Honor books (Trombone Shorty illustrated by Bryan Collier, written by Troy Andrews; Waiting by Kevin Henkes; Voice of Freedom: Fannie Lou Hamer, Spirit of the Civil Rights Movement illustrated by Ekua Holmes, written by Carole Boston Weatherford; Last Stop on Market Street illustrated by Christian Robinson, written by Matt de la Peña) had the crowd howling and cheering with delight. We were satisfied. The committees had been willing to think outside the box. People of color had been recognized for their beautiful illustration work in books that depicted people of color in a variety of historical and contemporary settings. It didn't take long for murmurs of dissent to be heard. The Horn Book Blog invited readers to share their reactions to the books that were honored: _http://www.hbook.com/2016/01/blogs/calling-caldecott/tell-us-what-you-think-of-the-winners/ "In my opinion, judges are going a little too far showcase diversity. How likely is it that, out of everything released in 2015, 3 of the 5 winners happen to have non-white protagonists? I just picture a bunch of smug white librarians patting themselves on the back for these picks." - Telly "I agree that diversity trumped quality this year. I’m disappointed and frankly dismayed. I’m now less inclined to tell students that an award is given for quality. I plan to develop some lessons comparing and contrasting the winners vs the contenders. Newbery may have jumped the shark." - ReNae Bowling "The idea that if an honored book is not by/about white people, and one does not oneself see its merits, then the committee members who spent all year reading and discussing books must have chosen “diversity over quality” is offensive, yes. What are the chances that 18 out of the last 20 Caldecott winners would be white? Yes, the fact that rather than celebrating the winners, people are *complaining about their diversity* is a sign that there is still a lot of work to be done." - Sarah "...there are always books of “serious quality” that don’t win an award. What is the point of opining that the committee did so deliberately in favor of “diversity”? The point can only be to discredit the books that did win based on the diversity reflected in them, and the illustrators themselves. That is what is offensive." - Nina Lindsay "In this case, the comments about the committee choosing “diversity over quality” are what most concern me. I suspect this comment could never come from someone who has been on an ALA book award committee. The atmosphere in the judging is room is completely book-centric. It is ALL about the book, and if I remember correctly we didn’t even refer to the book creators by name that much. It’s detail, detail, detail; then pull back for a broader view or a read aloud; then more detail. Those of us in my year who were not up on Caldecott trivia were surprised afterwards to find out which honorees had never won before and which ones had. You develop a kind of tunnel vision that — in my opinion — serves the award well. But always ALWAYS you can count on comments afterwards that make assumptions. Because of the secrecy about what goes on in the room, we will never know. I think that speculations about what the committee was thinking are counterproductive. Now is the time to consider their choices and take a closer look at any choices that surprised us. AND we should go on blowing the horn for all the other great books published this year." - Lolly Robinson "I would also like to point out that the available pool of American picture books of quality published in 2015 (including the ones that rose to the top at Calling Caldecott) practically guaranteed that there would be significant diverse representation in the actual Caldecott choices. Look at how many of the books we discussed and celebrated on Calling Caldecott were by authors and illustrators of color: Christian Robinson, Jessixa Bagley, Ekua Holmes, Christopher Myers, Jason Chin, Carole Boston Weatherford, Kadir Nelson, April Chu, Rafael Lopez, Duncan Tonatiuh, Matt de la Pena, Ed Young, Jerry PInkney — and I’ve probably missed some people. Look at all the nonwhite faces: in MY BIKE; WAIT; WATER IS WATER; FLOAT; LEO; MY PEN; IN A VILLAGE BY THE SEA; LAST STOP ON MARKET STREET, FLOP TO THE TOP; etc. These books weren’t culturally specific. They were just matter-of-factly inclusive. Look at the books we all admired with specific diverse content: DROWNED CITY, DRUM DREAM GIRL; VOICE OF FREEDOM; etc. (And despite our attempts to discuss as many books as possible, unfortunately we didn’t even get to TROMBONE SHORTY…) So surely there were MANY more diverse picture books on the Caldecott table this year, making the “diversity over quality” argument difficult to defend." - Martha V. Parravano "The notion that three of five Caldecott mentions going to non-white illustrators means that the diversity fix was in reminds me of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s response to the question of how many female Supreme Court Justices will be enough. “Nine,” she said. Congratulations to all the honorees." - Roger Sutton "It’s always interesting and often troubling when diversity comes up in publishing discussions. I won’t dignify the “diversity trumps quality” remark with a response but I will say this: we need to make sure this windfall for diversity in awards (not just this set of awards but all kinds of awards) doesn’t make us complacent about the actual numbers of characters, books, authors, editors, agents and publishers in the biz who reflect the diversity of the population." - Gabrielle "I am here to argue that books should only be judged on their merits and distinguishing characteristics, and not on who created them. We all know America is a huge melting pot, and that diversity is here to stay. That said, ALA should probably discontinue the YMAs specifically for blacks, Hispanics, gays and the disabled. The Newbery and Caldecott committees are most certainly covering those bases quite well. Martha P. of the Horn Book very smartly pointed out the inherent flaws in Last Stop on Market Street (her review of 9/15) and mentioned the Caldecott committee is made up of librarians who notice detail. Evidently the committee members on neither the Caldecott or Newbery did, or this substandard, copycat (Keats) book would not have won a thing. These awards have become irrelevant and reflect political correctness at its worst. But thanks again, Martha, for your critical analysis." - Sarah Chuen "The truth is the ALA commitee for the Caldecott has often waded into the culturally hip or relevant waters of the moment. Note the 1970s field when native american and african cultures were in vogue, or Eve Bunting’s Smoky Night about the LA riots. Many iffy recipients in that bunch. I just think it’s absolutely silly to say that these things aren’t considered. I also don’t think diversity should be a ‘one of each’ type of approach. Ratios that fit the population should be diverse enough, or better yet, the population of picture book writers. Anything else is artificially achieving a desired outcome, like quotas. My problem is actually not at all with non-white artists getting awards, but that the committees invariably gravitate toward the most condescending and culturally charged content. Where are the picture books set in the relatively normal lives of upper middle class blacks and hispanics? It’s always about oppression, poverty, family legacy, urban sprawl, or direct books about cultural historical figures. I also think a lot of committee members from minority districts look at their time on the committee as an opportunity to showcase stories that their kids would identify more with. Last year’s Newbery winner ‘The Crossover’ was an egregious example. Anyway, I am completely allowed my view that the best picture books and childrens literature have not been served by these awards. And The Snowy Day is my favorite picture book." - Telly "Sorry, I’m new here, but I have a couple of questions, aimed particularly at Telly and CJ: 1 – CJ – do you really think that you’re only expressing your opinion that the most distinguished book wasn’t recognized when you accused the committee of putting diversity ahead of quality? 2 – Have either of you sat on the Caldecott Committee (or ANY major book award committee)? 3 – Do you have any familiarity of the criteria and procedures employed in evaluating the books for this award? 4 – How is culturally based content condescending? 5 – How is demanding depictions of middle class white people not doing exactly what you are criticizing – wanting a book to win on another merit than quality? 6 – Can you please provide some evidence to your claims? I’m a librarian – we like evidence (90% of people that write picture books are white, hmmmm? Where’s that statistic from?) 7 – Why do you feel the need to hide behind sock puppets? When you make an accusation that casts aspersions on people’s professional conduct in such a public forum (not to mention calling them “smug,” which is just mean), you should have the courage to name yourself and stand by what you say." - Renee Chalut "I do wonder if Last Stop on Market Street is showing the moral superiority of poverty. I just think that Nana’s positivity will only go so far as CJ begins to grow up." - Joan These comments range from painful and elitist to comfortingly righteous. What I see reflected here is the desire that Caucasians have to be the gatekeepers; they feel that they must control the achievements of POC. They get to decide which books created by POC are worthy of praise and are quick to insult these works as having received accolades purely as some sort of affirmative action. Because publishing (both the creators of material and the editorial people), librarianship and the Caldecott Committee and overwhelmingly white, they are the gatekeepers, deciding which books get published, reviewed, purchased by libraries, and given awards. The process mirrors our American culture, with the Caucasian group wielding the power and control and POC being policed and criticized with a different standard. Because white people feel entitled to these awards, they feel slighted when brown people receive them. They concoct reasons why the books were given recognition, because they cannot possibly fathom that a book created by a POC could be selected by a committee for recognition on its own merit. "I also think a lot of committee members from minority districts look at their time on the committee as an opportunity to showcase stories that their kids would identify more with. Last year’s Newbery winner ‘The Crossover’ was an egregious example. Anyway, I am completely allowed my view that the best picture books and children's literature have not been served by these awards. And The Snowy Day is my favorite picture book." - Telly So, Telly's a hater. And haters gonna hate. For next month's post and moving forward, please send me questions and topics that you would like to discuss that involve libraries, books, diversity, and the children's literature community. fifiabuillustration@gmail.com Fifi Abu spends her days surrounded by books that have already been created and the rest of her time writing and illustrating books yet to be born. She looks forward to a day when all children can see themselves reflected in the books they read. Ms. Abu holds a master's degree in children's literature and a master's degree in library science, is an active member of SCBWI and a Children's Book Academy graduate. www.fifiabu.com |
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