This past November, the National Endowment of the Arts published a report, To Read or Not to Read: A Question of National Consequence. The picture it presents is not pretty. Time spent reading is decreasing, and along with that, reading scores. Decreased reading affects everything from employment to attendance at cultural events to volunteerism. Many people asked questions about the report, its method of gathering data, and its interpretation. People may not be as “not to read” as portrayed.

Whether or not you agree with the data and issues in the report, it raises the obvious question. What can we do to encourage reading? To encourage not just the act of reading, but to encourage a love of reading as well? To those of us who love reading and stories, it seems a no-brainer. Reading is fun, of course people want to do it!

Reading is fun. And I think that should be enough reason to encourage reading, and to praise reading, and to value it when we, and kids, read. Linking reading to increased employment opportunities and civic duty may be necessary to get press attention or involve employers and other organizations, but c’mon; does a ten year old care about that? Should they? No; they shouldn’t read “because I will be a better person.” They shouldn’t read “because then I will make more money.” They should read because it’s fun.

So, how to make reading fun? Is that even possible, or are some people just readers and others non-readers? People are as varied as books; there is no one size fits all approach. That said, here are some of my ideas. Since I am a childrens/ teen services librarian, I am, of course, thinking about encouraging kids and teens to read. But seriously? I think these things are true for anyone, regardless of age. And when I say “your kids,” they could be your own children, the children in your classroom, other family members.

Value Reading. We often hear about valuing books; but what about the act of reading? When the house is dusty, the yard needs mowing, laundry is piling up, where on the list of “things that need to get done” does reading fall? People looking to get into physical shape are told to exercise several times a week and make it a priority. How often do you make reading a priority?

Read yourself. Modeling that reading is fun is the best way to show others that it is fun. Have books in the house. Read books in front of your kids. And discuss books; as people in the kidlitosphere will tell you, half the fun is reading the book. The other half? Talking about the book with someone.

Respect the reading people are already doing. Saying “that genre / series / author stinks, now here is a good book” wins over no-one. But then again, I think the way to win over people is to be nice, not mean. Want to see a kid get excited? Ask them about the book they are reading; ask them, why do you like it; and finally, ask them what books they would recommend to you. Nothing beats an excited kid telling an adult what the adult should read “because it’s really, really good.”

Read what your kids are reading. Before you start complaining about the time, or not being interested, or having other things to do, think of what you are asking your kids to do. If you want them to, say, read, classics, they’re thinking “not interested, no time.” So now, you turn around and say the same thing back to them? Not cool. Reading the books your kids are reading gives you a better understanding of what that book is about and what your kid wants from books. It also shows kids that you value their choices and allows you to discuss the books with them.

Discuss books with respect. Respect the book and the reader. Don’t talk about books in a “homework” way; talk about books in an “omg, this was so awesome, I have to share it with someone,” or “I cannot believe that ending.” There is a time and a place for critical examination of books and language and reading; but if your goal is to get people to know reading=fun, now is not the time to tear apart their favorite book, making snarky jokes about the writing. “Oh you like that? Wasn’t it done so much better by this other author?” Nope; the goal is not you showing off your book knowledge, but getting someone else excited and engaged about what they read. Discussing books is one reason to read the books your kids choose; it gives you a common experience. You may find some gems amongst the books your kids are reading; or, you may find what they want from a book and have a better idea of what to recommend for further reading.

Alternate formats are good. For some kids, a movie version of Moby Dick watched at nine and a graphic novel of Moby Dick read at eleven is just the right foundation to make that high school required reading fun. (For the record? That was me. Yes, I loved Moby Dick!) Knowing the basic structure and characters helped tremendously, and this is especially true of books written long ago enough to seem to be written in a foreign language. Watch the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice instead of reading the book? No; but watch it for the visual clues about class that a modern reader may miss? Yes.

Covers Matter. Every reader knows that “don’t judge a book by a cover” is a lie. Covers matter; so if you are going to invest in books, get ones that look good and appealing. Keep in mind, for some kids, the appeal is a dusty old volume dug up from the attic.

Keep it fun. We’re not talking about homework or something someone “has” to do. Turn any of this into “have to” or punishment and you’ve lost the battle. Making every Tuesday night “the night we discuss books” can end up with everyone (you included) dreading Tuesday nights.

I don’t think there is any “magic bullet”. A reader may be born at age three, or thirteen, or thirty. That “one book” that provides the “click” moment of reading=fun could come anywhere, at any time. Be ready for it!

Posted by: Elizabeth Burns

I’ve already addressed what a review looks and smells like in a previous post, but recently I’ve been coming across some ethical conundrums, hurt feelings and other assorted downers that ensnare new reviewers from time to time.

I wondered if maybe I hadn’t gotten too far ahead of myself: what if you’re just starting out and don’t know what to expect? You just signed up for a shiny new blog, you’re dutifully trying to post every day, you attract a few readers, wrangle a few free books.

And then what? I asked around, and in particular, I wanted to hear from experienced bloggers how they faced an empty screen, and what went into their reviewing process.

The people I e-mailed are from the organizing committee over at Cybils, or the Children’s and Young Adult Bloggers’ Literary Awards (http://blog.cybils.com) now underway. They all have solid credentials as bloggers, having been at this for at least a couple days.

Online reviewers’ unique issues

Their problems finding words to describe other people’s words certainly aren’t new, but there are some novel problems in our online instant-reaction land when the white-hot flames of irate fans are always a mere mouse-click away.

There’s also a profound difference in temperament and training. When print critics come under fire, they’re usually bolstered by editors with ice in their veins. Most bloggers only have their spouse’s shoulder to sob on.

And kidlit bloggers, who often come from the ranks of librarians and teachers, are by nature a helpful lot. They aim to please. Send them a few books and they’ll review them. Send them a ton of books and they’ll review those too. Overwhelm them with your entire frontlist, plus everybody else’s frontlist, and they’ll slog through the stack, panicking lest they overlook one.

This is not good for having a balanced life, or getting supper ready on time, or preserving what’s left of your eyesight (not to mention sanity).

Another huge problem seems to be staying original when many people have reviewed the same material, or when the publisher sends out press packets with concise, pithy summaries of the book already. Is that stuff fair game?

I asked what makes for good, basic reviewing habits:

“Keep the audience in mind”

Kelly Herold, Big A little a (http://kidslitinformation.blogspot.com/):

1. I always throw away publisher material. Always. I find it can cloud my judgment if it isn’t completely a waste of time, which it often is. I especially find publisher info on picture books annoying. Why do I want 2 pages of text on a book with fewer words? I don’t.

2. Keep the plot summary to one paragraph.

3. In my case, I like to keep my reviews to 3-5 paragraphs tops.

4. Always quote from the book if possible so readers can get an idea of the author’s style.

5. Keep audience in mind: who is the book for? age range?

6. Anne has taught me that if it is a picture book, you have to learn to think critically about the illustrations as well. This has not been easy for me, but I’m working on it.

Ending? Don’t mention it. No, really. Don’t.

Jackie Parker, Interactive Reader (http://interactivereader.blogspot.com/):

The only thing I look at on the publisher’s accompanying propaganda is the contact information for the publicist. Never know when that will come in handy...

I started to avoid reading jacket flaps or reviews past the first paragraph because I found they often gave way too much information away. My cardinal rule (I have many, but this one hasn’t been mentioned yet) is DON’T FREAKIN’ GIVE AWAY THE ENDING. I don’t know HOW many times I’ve heard people booktalk or whatever a book and give away way too much information. If you are going to have spoilers, say so. As a reader, I’m going to get really irritated if you don’t warn me. As a blogger librarian it’s just bad form. It seems like a no-brainer, but I still run into people who do it.

NEGATIVE REVIEWS: NOT THE ‘KISS OF DEATH.’

Sheila Ruth, Wands And Worlds (http://www.wandsandworlds.com/blog1/):

Just a comment about negative reviews from a publisher perspective. Most of the advice I’ve seen for publishers says that a negative review is still a good review (unless it totally trashes a book). It’s like the old saw that any publicity is good publicity. And a book on amazon with all five-star reviews is suspicious, whereas a book with a lot of reviews, some good, some bad, looks like a genuine thing. The martial arts book I published has mixed reviews from 2 to 5 stars (I’ve discovered that martial artists are very picky people) but it sells well anyway, and most of the sales come from Amazon. So a negative review on Amazon isn’t the kiss of death. I think *publishers* for the most part understand this, but many authors don’t. It’s naturally harder for them to be objective, because it’s their baby.

HAVE A WRITTEN REVIEW POLICY

Jen Robinson, Jen Robinson’s Book Page (http://jkrbooks.typepad.com/):

● Have a written review policy that you can refer to, in which you make clear whether or not you review everything that you receive, and that you don’t guarantee positive reviews. This helps to keep everyone’s expectations in line.

● If possible, notify the author and/or publisher when you do post a review, especially if it’s a mixed review. This increases your level of professionalism, and can help keep the author/publisher from feeling sand-bagged by running across a mixed review unexpectedly.

● If quoting from ARC or galley, make sure to specify that. This protects you and the publisher, should the final book differ from what you quoted. - Indicate the source from which you received the book, and be up-front about any particular ties that you might have with the author. I believe that being up-front about these sorts of things is the best guard against people who question one’s objectivity.

HAVE A BIT OF A THICK SKIN

Liz Burns, A Chair, A Fireplace and a Tea Cozy (http://yzocaet.blogspot.com/):

● Have a bit of a thick skin; yes, easier said than done. But, if we say authors should have a thick skin, we, as writers, should have a thick skin also when someone disagrees with our reviews.

● You won’t convince the author that you’re right; chances are, the author won’t convince you that you’re wrong. (but, if you made a mistake ... That’s another thing entirely. If your review said, “what an odd action for an 12 year old orphan” and the author says, “interesting, except it’s an 10 year old and the parents are divorced,” own your mistake. Even if the change is now, “what an odd action for a 10 year old whose parents are divorced.”)

● Galleys and arcs do change before publication. If you don’t like something based on a galley or arc, you owe it to the author and to your readers to wait for the real book because it is very possible that what you didn’t like was fixed.

AVOID SNARK ATTACKS

Sarah Stevenson, Finding Wonderland (http://writingya.blogspot.com/):

Personally, I think that there’s never a bad time for diplomacy and tact in a review, positive or negative. I learned that very early on when I used to write a weird websites column and I made a snarky comment about a site I wrote up...and they wrote back to me saying they were sorry I thought their site could use improvement but they had a limited budget (it was a site at a university, for a robot arm you could move via the web) and that was all they could do given their means...and I felt soooo bad.

A FEW LAST WORDS

There’s always more advice to give on getting started in book blogging and reviewing. In fact, the most recent Kidlit Blog Carnival was about precisely that compiled by the witty Pam Coughlin at MotherReader (http://www.motherreader.com/2007/11/november-carnival-of-children.html).

There’s plenty there from around the blogosphere.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t add my own $.02 to the discussion. I second everything already said rely on your own voice and not the publisher’s, value diplomacy but be firm and would add a few things I learned the hard way:

Don’t blog your way to a stronger eyeglass prescription (I’ve upped mine three times since starting book buds). It’s very expensive to go blind.

You can ignore all other chores but supper. You family shouldn’t starve for food or your company, even if they must climb over piles of laundry to dine with you.

● If snark is important to you, develop a style that’s at least clever. Try metaphor, exaggeration, new turns of phrase--anything but plain bitchiness, which is so overdone as to be entirely predictable. If I can finish your mean, foul sentence for you, you’re boring me.

● Take advantage of automatic posting, if your blog host has that lifesaving feature. I write all my reviews on Saturdays and let the nice folks at TypePad do the rest. I then resume my regularly scheduled life.

● Get a life. Eat moderately and exercise often. Stop smoking. Be nice to small animals and old people. Say your prayers. Remember that you’re human and not an extension of your keyboard. Of course, I’m terrible about all of the above, so do as I say and not as I do ...

I’ve been thrilled at this opportunity to blog for ForeWord, and am sorry my month ended after the traditional four weeks. I was hoping we could stretch November out until, oh, Memorial Day at least.

I wish you all happy reviewing and/or blogging, and a very Happy Holidays.

Posted by: Anne Boles Levy

Try telling a roomful of ardent book lovers that they’re writing reviews all wrong. I’d never given a presentation – ever – yet I had to wean my favorite kidlit bloggers from thinking that reviewing is all about their opinions.

It isn’t. Nor is it necessarily even about individual authors or books.

No, it's about what former Los Angeles Times book review editor Steve Wasserman called "a cultural conversation of critical importance."

I took it to mean that no book exists in a vacuum. It’s part of a genre or it breaks from it; it’s typical of the author’s work or it’s a departure; it’s of the moment or reminiscent of another era. It has its hyper-specific niche or is part of a  movement. There’s always a larger something or other to say about it, and a reviewer’s job is to pin that something, as nebulous and slippery as a jellyfish, to the wall.

I decided to wallop the kidlitosphere with the particulars of this “cultural conversation” at a first-ever conference in early October. Librarians, booksellers, authors and the similarly obsessed emerged from their virtual worlds into the real one for one day in a conference room at a Radisson hotel in Chicago, the  tables arranged so we all faced one another, who’d been avoiding the light of day like those tube worms at the ocean’s bottom, pale and shy and blinking uncertainly. 

When my turn came, I scrambled beneath my table to the center well and faced the writers I admired enough to reprimand.

The review genre

Of course, all these people are ridiculously nice or they'd be blogging about politics or law or other grouchy topics. So I had nothing to fear, right? Except that I was there to tell them that the fun can't go on forever. That to write at a professional level means understanding that reviewing is a genre, with its own tropes and quirks and readers' implicit expectations.

Function follows form in reviewing, and I’ve adopted the mission of teaching those forms to whoever will sit still long enough. It's anathema even to nice bloggers, however, who are accustomed to the freewheeling, unedited, unexpurgated Express Yourself theme park that’s become the blogosphere. It’s tough to be told there are forms to follow, and they make sense, and the wheel doesn't need constant reinventing.

Plus, there was no getting around the fact that my 12-page handout did not fit neatly into the allotted 50 minutes, after I had prepared for a 90-minute workshop.

I raced through the material and there were many salient points that I had to skim or drop altogether. People were slow to get started, perhaps lulled by the easygoing nature of other presentations. Mine was high key, and I think many were startled at the size of the handout and the announcement that there would an editing exercise.

Where we are now

I began with an overview of the print vs. blog reviewers animosity. I stated flatly that print reviewers are gatekeepers, with an impulse to keep the barbarian hordes (that’s us) at bay out of self-preservation.

And one look around the book blogging world does indeed reveal a gap in skills, to put it gently. But the gates to the castle are easily opened; by knowing what a good, meaty book review looks like, you can join that cultural conversation Mr. Wasserman asserts in his excellent, if somewhat bitter personal essay on the subject of reviewing. 

Everything else, to me, is book chatter – also valuable, of course, but it doesn't employ the same analytical thinking or provide the same depth of insight.

Forms vs. Formulas

Before I could launch into the forms of book reviewing, I reminded people that forms aren't formulas. I used a shopping analogy (payback for all those overused sports analogies – I'm not much of a "team player" and I never "hit one out of the park"):

This isn't like going into a department store looking for size-12 sportswear and all you find are size-8 cocktail dresses. This isn't about one-size fits all.

Switching metaphors (you can do this when you're talking a mile a minute), I said imagine the structured review as a dinner plate. Just because everyone uses a dinner plate doesn't mean we're all eating the same meal. What you prepare and how you present it are entirely your own.

Having an Ideal Reader

I spent only a brief time asking bloggers to consider not just readers who routinely visit their blogs, since writing for this immediate circle eventually becomes limiting and self-referential.

You unwittingly erect your own gates, admitting only those who "get" you and your stylistic quirks. To reach a broader audience, you have to imagine who they should be.

I never imagined that Book Buds would draw so many librarians, and while I love every one of them, my ideal reader is still the lost parent in the bookstore, afraid to venture beyond what they loved from their own childhoods into the wilderness of all those new titles. I always write for that parent, imagining him or her anew each time.

The Three Forms of Book Reviewing

I taught that book reviewing – or really, any kind of reviewing – breaks down into three forms based on length: capsule reviews, mid-length or daily reviews (so called because they appear in the daily sections of newspapers instead of Sunday) and long-form essays topped by a billboard (explanation below).

We spent the most time on capsule reviews, because we find it most often on blogs and it offers the easiest opportunities for freelancing. It's also a pain to get it right, and therefore the most flagrantly abused.

My advice: write tight, eschew too much plot rehash, have a distinct perspective, be authoritative.

I had people edit a short, highly critical review of a Hanukkah book that had been sent to me by a writer looking for editing advice. I was surprised when many people (authors all) stalled on the idea that the writer would even bother with a negative review.

Many authors simply couldn't emotionally grapple with the reality of negative book reviews, of their being a vital part of that "cultural conversation."

Daily Reviews

We moved on to the dailies, which I insisted must have two characteristics: thematic consistency and brisk writing.

My advice:

Simply listing all your likes and dislikes doesn't make for a review, even if you think you're being thorough. Especially if you think you're being thorough!

Ruminate on the book as deeply as time allows. Where does it fit in its genre? Or into the author's body of work? Or in pop culture? If there's one notion in your head that shines brighter, there's your theme, which acts as a thread to pull readers through to the end.

Organize all your quotes, plot details and exposition around that ONE theme. That's all there's room to do in a daily. As with capsule reviews, keep plot rehash to a minimum. Weave in only those details that make sense for the theme you've chosen. If there are plot details that MUST be included that DON'T fit your theme, you may have the wrong theme.

The long form

The long-form essay deals not necessarily with one particular book -- unless it's a seminal work -- but with a writer's career, or a trend or movement in literature, or it paints some much larger picture than is possible in the 500-800 words usually reserved for dailies.

I didn't get to say this, but the long form can go very long -- up to 25,000 words or so, after which it's time to get a book contract!

To keep it manageable, the long form features what's known as a "billboard," basically a signal of what's to come. Its two characteristics are the anecdotal lead of 1 or 2 extremely large paragraphs or 3-6 shorter paragraphs, plus what's called the "nut" paragraphs because they contain the kernel of your arguments.

The opening anecdote -- often but not always drawn from the subject's life -- ends in an "aha" moment when the reader finally learns why he or she's reading this.

That's when biography stops and the hard work of laying out your themes begins. A longer piece needs more than one theme, and EVERY SENTENCE in the nut graphs lays out a different theme, each subsequent sentence building on the one before.

I used an excerpt from a recent piece on Jack Kerouac (his "On the Road" turns 60 soon) and quickly pointed out where we shifted into "nut" mode and labeled the anecdote as "A" followed by themes B, C, D and even E.

Throughout the piece -- indeed, every long piece -- writers will wheel through ABCDE (or however many letters) again and again. To put all the plot rehash or anecdotes or quotes (the "A" stuff) together would make little sense except as a book report; to put all paragraphs on theme B or theme C, etc., together gets wearisome. People like patterns and the mind absorbs them without effort.

If, each time you dip into the well for "A" matter, you then work it through each theme, you create a circular movement that propels readers along, always coming back to A again, and so forth. You build momentum.

(This is tough to explain without showing, but if you want to peek in at Book Forum, any Sunday book review section or the New York Review of Books, you'll find plenty of examples to dissect this way.)

Reactions

The reaction? Most people were gracious and approving. A few were shell-shocked at having to do actual thinking. But that’s exactly my point; jotting down newsy tidbits gleaned from press releases or rounding up links doesn’t require critical analysis. Dashing off comments isn’t a conversation. A thumbs-up, thumbs-down cursory reaction isn’t a review.

All those factoids and quips serve their purpose, but if we’re going to bury beleaguered book review sections, unwittingly or no, we ought not replace them solely with the printed version of a five-minute quickie. Just as a book still requires some luxuriating, even in our haste-addicted society, a sustained argument in a long essay is still a slow, deliberate seduction that engages the senses, lingers in the memory, and satisfies the spirit.

Posted by: Anne Boles Levy

I don’t actually help run the only literary awards by bloggers – as we’re billing ourselves – so much as steer it away from black holes, asteroids and other cosmic obstacles. Let me explain.

There seems to be a whole mess of bad, awful, terrifying mishaps that can go wrong in cyberspace when all you’re trying to do is pick a favorite book. Sure, it sounds easy. You set up a blog, ask a couple acquaintances to do reviews, chat about likes and dislikes, and ta-dah ... We have a winner! Just like that.

Only it’s not at all like that. We—the other organizers and myself—ventured into unknown territory when we founded the Children’s and Young Adult Bloggers’ Literary Awards (our friends call us Cybils) that recently opened its second season at Cybils.com. But our success was hardly assured, and there are, I think, lessons for anyone believing that the Internet’s newness means that old rules don’t apply.

To start with, if human nature is a constant, as so many philosophers and writing coaches tell us, what to make of all the introverts, dreamers and unrepentant bookworms who make up the core kidlit bloggers? Could we all rouse from our armchairs long enough to hold a contest?

Would we all play fair—ignoring marketing hype to offer a level playing field for independent publishers?

And would it, in the end, have any impact at all, or just dissipate in a wave of self-congratulatory linkfests? Would our tiny craft ever take off?

It all started with a smart-alecky comment I left on someone else’s blog last year, after complaints that the Newbery's were too snooty and the Quills, well, not snooty enough. I said us blogging upstarts should up and start our own contest. Kelly Herold, whose blog it was, turned out to be one of these organized types and took me up on it.

We didn’t need a mission statement; our sense of purpose grew as we hashed out matters in comments and emails. Quality and popularity would both count; literary merit and kid appeal would be weighed equally. We would be democratic and elitist both. Everybody would nominate books, but only bloggers would judge. And the bloggers would be, well, just about anybody.

Our first cosmic obstacle was our name. I couldn’t stand any of the suggestions, like “mad hatters” or the “blogburys.” Hitting this head-on cost us precious momentum – hours, maybe even days, after the idea germinated, when time is measured in nanoseconds in the forget-it-yesterday blogosphere. I decided on Cybils when it seemed to appease both the cutesy and serious types.

I mentioned asteroids and black holes. The asteroids would be the organizational nightmares you don’t know are headed your way. They veered into our path over seemingly small things, like counting six genres until the poetry and graphic novels fans griped. All those genres needed their own chiefs and two sets of judges. Where would we find so many people? With blogs? About kids’ books?

Kelly had a blogroll like nobody’s business, sort of like an electronic rolodex, and she leaned hard on folks to join up instead of crabbing in the comments sections. Once we had a full slate of 80+ volunteers, we needed little things like a domain name and a hub to gather and do all the contest-related stuff, whatever that would mean. And then there were listservs and databases and all kinds of mind-numbing particulars that have gotten all the mention they need.

Even so, we headed straight for a black hole. Setting the contest up on a blog sounded cheap and easy, and it kept us in the blogging spirit. We listed each genre as a separate post and waited for nominations to roll in from the public. And ... then what? I was staring at three months of a dead blog – utterly empty space – until the short lists were announced.

How to fill the void? I wasn’t ready to write yet another blog, and Cybils wasn’t about me. And what was there to say, really?

Meanwhile, we’d gathered all these smart, witty, similarly obsessed people, and they all had opinions. On everything – not just books. People battled about ethics, about whether to keep blogging about the books they were judging, about whether we should solicit review copies from publishers; all big, potentially contest-wrecking issues. More asteroids.

Like many introverts, I like to think I have very little ego, which actually makes leadership tough when you’re determined that everything go all friendly-like. No hurt feelings, no tough talk ... and nothing gets done. And I’m new to awards. I never won any, unless you count a good citizenship certificate for being pretty much the only kid in my high school to never get busted. A dull life suits my bookish self just fine.

So I joked that Kelly and I were benevolent dictators, but the term gave us cover to step in when things veered off course. Sure, you all can blog about these books, just don’t tip your hand, voting-wise. Send me links and I’ll post excerpts at Cybils. Voila! The black hole gets filled and an asteroid avoided. Hey, y’think the publishers will send review copies? Yes! More disaster averted.

Complaints rolled in as often as compliments, but if you’re going to insist you have no ego then you listen and you nod and you keep updating your FAQs and revising the rules and go from there.

On Feb. 14, we announced nine winners and 5,000 people leaped onto our blog to end the suspense. Five of the winning titles came from independent publishers, including a graphic novel from a publisher who never got back to us about review copies. Both rounds of judges had to hunt the book down in comics shops or online.

An organized “buy Cybils” push saw dramatic drops in the Amazon sales ranks (a good thing) for many winning titles. We were written up in the online or newsletter versions of Publisher’s Weekly, School Library Journal and of course ForeWord. Even GalleyCat, a big publishing industry blog, threw us a shout out.

Some lessons learned: our fancy-schmancy press releases were never picked up by the press. They did better posted at blogs and in online forums. The “viral” marketing that so many business gurus talk about really does work in non-traditional markets like ours, but only when the people spreading your message have something more than hype or buzz or vague promises or stock options to blather about. Keep it real, and people will come.

I keep seeing Cybils mentioned in Amazon or GoodReads reviews – usually footprints left by a supporter. There’s even a Cybils mention on Wikipedia, under Melanie Watt’s page (her picture book, Scaredy Squirrel, from Kids Can Press, was a winner).

Kelly and I learned to keep it simple, stupid: neither of us is judging this year while we’re busily zapping those asteroids. Kelly’s most arduous task is nabbing review copies: after publishers rightfully bellyached about being hit up for free books at every turn, we’re submitting one master list via one person. Nobody assaults authors or pesters publicists; all contacts are via Kelly or her henchwoman in charge of smoothing our relations with the independents, the mercilessly well-organized Sheila Ruth of Wands and Worlds (http://www.wandsandworlds.com/blog1/), herself an independent publisher.

And while chatting with your co-workers seems a fairly basic Management 101 thing to do, it’s tough when it’s all online. So Kelly and I grabbed a chance to meet some of our virtual co-conspirators at a kidlit blogging conference in October; we had no agenda and opened the floor to questions. That could’ve been a disaster!

Instead, we walked away amazed at both the great sense and intense passion of our volunteers, who get paid in nothing but links, a few free books and ample gratitude. Their feedback is gradually being incorporated into every stage of the contest, from the website’s readability to the judging criteria and much, much else.

Yes, we’re back; nominations opened Oct. 1 and close the day before Thanksgiving. We let everybody who can click their way to the Cybils blog nominate a single, solitary, lonely book in each of eight genres, from picture books up to young adult, and of course graphic novels and poetry. We’ve gotten better about enforcing our few rules, and are still coasting on readers’ goodwill and generally honest nature.

We expanded our roster of volunteers up to 90 bloggers, and have made good on promises to include a large percentage of newcomers so we don’t become cliquish.

Once again, New Year’s and Valentine’s Days will be the dates to circle for short lists and winners, respectively.

We’ve added BookSense links to the Amazon ones, with people still using last year’s short lists for early holiday shopping. With those tiny commissions plus a few droplets of ad revenue, we hope to make enough to buy actual awards for this year’s winning authors and illustrators. Right now, our humble thanks are all we have to offer.

Back by popular demand are book reviews of the nominees from our bloggers, with links back to their sites – some of the most impassioned and active voices in the kidlitosphere. And, of course, we’re featuring some of the best books of 2007. We hope yours are among them.

See you at Cybils!

Posted by: Anne Boles Levy

There’s a lot going on in Blogistan, what my husband calls the world of kidlit blogging of which I am a part. There’s the Robert’s Snow multi-blog 2007 snowflake and illustrator features, entitled “Blogging for a Cure”; we at 7-Imp recently attended the 1st Annual Kidlitosphere Conference; and the Winter Blog Blast Tour, a multi-blog, cross-posting series of interviews with children’s and YA authors at approximately fifteen blogs, is about to be launched. However, I find myself yet again, when given the opportunity in a new spot in cyberspace, wanting to talk books, books, and more books.

And lately, in particular, I’ve had my mind on picture books whose illustrators, in one way or another, play around with the notions of size and perspective, as well as the abundant number of books out and about now which focus on one’s community and circle of friends. I chose a handful of them to review today, so let’s get right to it, shall we? There’s never enough time to talk about books.

Oh yes, size matters . . .

Monster Hug! by David Ezra Stein; Putnam Juvenile; September 2007

I think an up-and-coming picture book illustrator we all can get most excited about this year, other than the obscenely talented Jonathan Bean, is David Ezra Stein. He hasn’t made a misstep yet; even the one title of his -- out of four thus far in his career -- that I think is least exciting is still a good one. And then he had to go and create Leaves, released this August. It is a quiet, unassuming, and introspective title, not unlike a poem, and it instantly sealed with a fix-all-super-glue-adhesive-type strength my budding adoration for him. Monster Hug!, his latest title, features the same heavy black outlining – even heavier – that he used in Cowboy Ned & Andy (2006) and even more of an intentionally unpolished, flat-out messy style (disheveled has never looked so good) that sings with spontaneity, fitting for a book about the rambunctious, untidy play of friends. In this case, those friends are two mammoth monsters – that’s Scaly Monster and Hairy Monster if you don’t zoom past the title page spread – and they are having some BIG fun playing Monster Ball (with the sun and the nearest tree), Monster Splash and Monster Squirt (with the ocean and an octopus, respectively), and breaking for a Monster Feast (on some ocean liners, airplanes, mountains, and semis, no less). It’s all fun and games, Stein reveling in and paying tribute to the raucous, imaginative play of children, and all spread out on the hugest scale possible. They climb over buildings and even use them as props in their play. But wait! Stein has a surprise up his sleeve in the way of playing with size and perspective: Their even huger parents show up, thus suddenly dwarfing them in size and ordering them home – but not ‘til after Scaly and Hairy get in a super-sized hug, ‘cause they’re tight, y’all: Even though they’re happy to return to their safe and snug homes (a volcano and an ocean bed), they needed to seal the deal with that Monster Hug. It’s one of the most visually striking, child-magnet picture books I’ve seen this year, and I can’t wait to see what Stein brings us next.

Big and Little by John Stadler; Robin Corey Books/Random House; August 2007

Don’t let your eyes deceive you: When it comes to size, things are simply not what they seem in this flap book by funny man John Stadler. Welcome to the Big Top, as Ellie the elephant is nervously climbing a very tall ladder, prepping herself for a high dive into a tiny glass of water down below. Our mouse emcee on the stage floor builds the excitement and tension as he instructs Ellie with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. After she slips and unwillingly takes the dive . . . well, whew! She lands in the cup of water after all. “Ladies and gentlemen! TA-DAH! Well done, little Ellie!” our rodent emcee exclaims. And it’s at this point we see that what seemed big was, indeed, little and vice versa – and that it’s all about perspective: It’s not until the close of the book that we see the duo side-by-side and realize that the miniscule glass of water was just the size for the pocket-sized Ellie, who can fit in the mouse’s hand. The story literally unfolds before you with the book’s gatefold flaps and works well as an easy reader with its short sentences and simple vocabulary. And let me say, for the record, I hate to provide such a huge spoiler for the book’s ending, but in order to point out the book’s all-around goodness as a not-to-be-missed size-matters picture book, I had no choice. Just make sure you share this playful title with your favorite wee children and watch their surprise as they discover how easily an artist can deceive by playing with size and scope and one’s point of view.

Where the Giant Sleeps by Mem Fox and illustrated by Vladimir Radunsky; Harcourt; October 2007

Where does the dragon lay his head? Where does the fairy doze? Why, on an archipelago, which Radunsky -- previous winner of a New York Times Book Review Best Illustrated Book of the Year -- shows us on each spread is the home for a dreaming wizard, an ogre, a goblin, and much more. But it’s on the book’s opening spread that we see from an aerial perspective that this chain of islands is more than what it seems: It’s a sleeping giant, whose hair is the forest and eyes are the nearby houses and whose left foot is topped off with a lighthouse. A child, who we discover at the book’s close is dreaming, is rowing his boat in the waters and taking in the wonders of the night with his spyglass: He spots the dozing fairy in the forest; a sleeping pirate near the houses (a dog trying his best to slumber); sleeping pixies “in petals soft and round”; and the seven dwarfs “in caves beneath the ground.” Only the elves are awake “to make a quilt of moons and stars to wrap you in . . . tonight.” Radunsky’s dreamy, soft-focus illustrations, many seen through the clouds drifting through the sky, are well-matched to the simple, rhythmic bed-time rhymes of acclaimed author Mem Fox. And if that’s not enough of a captivating peek into the wonders of playing with size for you, then enjoy the final spread of the sleeping child, whose room is scattered with the toy versions of what is seen on the sleeping archipelago giant: a toy lighthouse here, a wizard puppet there -- and a dreaming boy, covered up by his stars-and-moon quilt in the quiet of the night.

. . . and so do one’s friends and neighbors:

Bobbie Dazzler by Margaret Wild and illustrated by Janine Dawson; Kane/Miller; September 2007

You know how young children delight (and delight again. And then delight a few more times) in the smallest of achievements? Well, here’s a title for them from, arguably, the kidlitosphere’s favorite (and, not arguably, most blogger-friendly) independent publisher, Kane/Miller. Bobbie, a Red-necked Wallaby of eastern Australia (I love the short note on the CIP page  – Author’s? Illustrator’s? I don’t know, but I’m glad it’s there -- describing the animal on which Bobbie is based), can jump and bounce and skip and whirl ‘n’ twirl and somersault – and even hop on one leg. Her devoted friends at their coastal forest home are impressed. Bobbie can’t do the splits, though, and she’s bothered – a lot. “Never mind,” say her friends. After some help from her mates, she reaches her goal and her friends give those splits a shot as well. There’s much humor here for wee children, what with all Bobbie’s determined friends and their stumbles as they try to both aid her and do their own gymnastics. The final illustration will damn near make you tear up: Group Hug! Dawson’s illustrations, well-ventilated in ample white space, also bring observant readers the native vegetation of the Australian landscape – bottlebrushes, eucalyptus, banksias, and kangaroo paw. It’s a picture book brimming with joy.

Rabbit’s Gift: A Fable from China by George Shannon and illustrated by Laura Dronzek; Harcourt; Release date: November 2007

Turnip potluck, anyone? If you treat yourself to any one snowy, winter-time book this year, let it be this sparkly gem of a book, an adaptation of a centuries-old Chinese folktale. Snow is coming, and Rabbit is prepared with two turnips for the winter. But, remembering Donkey alone on the hill, he “gently butted his extra turnip to Donkey’s house,” thus beginning a pay-it-forward, domino-like wave of generosity as each animal then does the same for his neighbor. In the end, when everything comes full-circle and Rabbit stumbles upon that very turnip at his door, all the animals have a cozy meal together in the forest at night. Shannon does the folktale justice – plus some – with his reverent, uncluttered re-telling. Dronzek treats us to spreads that bleed to the very edges, bringing this vibrant wood to life, but also frames each animal in its own portrait as he stumbles upon the gift at his door. Shannon includes an Author’s Note, which traces the story’s source, making lovers of folktale adaptations everywhere happy (we get twitchy if source notes are not included). Best of all? The Chinese symbols for each animal are included in this heartening tale of true friendship.

The Baby Shower by Eve Bunting and illustrated by Judy Love; Charlesbridge; July 2007

Bunting’s characters from her 2003 Charlesbridge picture book, The Wedding, are back – this time they’re celebrating the impending arrival of Ms. Brindle Cow’s firstborn child. Told in rhyming couplets, the brisk narrative takes us to the home of each excited animal in this tight-knit community: Chipmunk, Rabbit, Duck, Pig, and more. Then they’re on their way, singing a joyful song all the while, to deliver gifts to Brindle and Bull. They delight in the unexpected arrival of twins, once they make it to Brindle. Judy Love’s ornate illustrations amuse with details, and her palette doesn’t shy from a bold use of color. There’s a touch of the old-skool, conservative bygone and time-worn here with things like a big, pink bow atop the female calf’s head, a blue bonnet for the boy, and Duck ready to launch the newborn-baby prayer. Taking in Love’s night-time spread, the animals silhouetted and marching to Brindle, is a like giving yourself a little gift. In the end, the animals suggest that, since baby showers are so much fun, Brindle spawn again. Ouch! Let’s give her a bit of a rest first, shall we? Needless to say, here’s a fitting baby shower gift. You do give books at baby showers, don’t you? Do we need to have a talk?

And don’t forget Bunting’s exuberant Hurry! Hurry!, illustrated by Jeff Mack and released by Harcourt in March.

Waking Up Wendell by April Stevens and illustrated by Tad Hills; Schwartz & Wade Books (Random House); September 2007

Here’s not only a picture book focusing on a neighborhood – the fictional Fish Street of suburbia-world – but it’s a perfect title for the cause-and-effect units of study for the elementary teachers and librarians of the world. How can a chain of events wake up every inhabitant of Fish Street, and what starts it all off? Well, it’s a little yellow bird, hopping out of her nest and taking a deep breath, singing “a very loud and whistley song: TWEEET-TWEEET-TA-TA-TA-TWEEEEET . . .” Mr. Krudwig, owner of Krudwig’s Bicycle Shop and dreaming of pancakes as he sleeps at #2 Fish Street, is awakened: “Oh, for crying out loud!” He gets his day started by letting his dog out, who wakes up Mrs. Musky at #3 Fish Street with an enthusiastic “Rappity-rappity-rap!” And so on. In the end, the puddin’ cute newborn, Wendell Willamore at the last house on Fish Street, is awake, his mother lifting him up in the air while singing “my little bird . . .” and bringing us full circle with this lively community of folks starting their day. There’s an entertaining dose of humor -- Mrs. Depolo, kindergarten teacher at #4 Fish Street, oversleeping, throwing her clothes on, “SCREEEECH!”ing and “GLEEEEEEP!”ing in her car, and then flying down Fish Street to work. Not to mention the Darjeeling family in house #6 who can’t put their foot down when it comes to co-sleeping children. Tad Hills, illustrator of the beloved Duck & Goose dramas, scores again with his sunny oil and colored pencil illustrations.  

A Box Full of Kittens by Sonia Manzano and illustrated by Matt Phelan; Atheneum Books for Young Readers (Simon & Schuster); June 2007

Want to wrap up with the book most energetically capturing “the rhythms and period details of a bustling, friendly community” (Publishers Weekly)? In this case, it’s an intimate Hispanic community in this title by “Maria”-of-Sesame-Street by day and author by night, Sonia Manzano, and illustrated by Matt Phelan, another one of my favorite new illustrators. Our protagonist, Ruthie, loves Superman -- and kittens. In fact, she wants to be Superman and thinks she’s actually been given her chance to be such a hero when she’s asked to go sit with her aunt Juanita, due to give birth any second. Off she goes, leaping up steps at a single bound, to retrieve snacks from the piraquero and the coquito vendor for her aunt, each time interacting with another member of her community. But, after getting distracted by the titular container of kittens, she misses the beginning of her aunt’s labor, feeling less like Superman and more like a failure. In the end, Juanita has a confession for Ruthie that makes her feel like a winner after all. This one – with Phelan’s graceful, glowing illustrations – celebrates family as well as community. Manzano’s inclusion of Spanish words in the text never feels forced, and an Author’s note in the beginning explains a few of the terms.

Coquito? Mmm. I don’t think I have any coconut cream on hand, but I do have some eggnog (yes, no matter the month, one must always have eggnog nearby). Picture books? Huh? What was I saying? My refrigerator is calling.

Enjoy these playful titles. Until next time . . .

Posted by: Julie Danielson and Eisha Prather