Posted by: Carlie Webber

Posted by: Jen Robinson

Posted by: Jen Robinson

On a recent trip to my friendly neighborhood anarchist bookstore I bought three books for young people and found a topic to write about. The intersection between my favorite subject areas-radical thought and literature for children and teens-is my rare joy so I was happy to see these three relatively new titles:  A Young People's History of the United States adapted by Rebecca Stefoff from Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States; As the World Burns: 50 Simple Things You Can Do To Stay in Denial by Derrick Jensen and Stephanie McMillan; and Hey, Kidz! Buy This Book: A Radical Primer on Corporate and Governmental Propaganda and Artistic Activism for Short People by Anne Elizabeth Moore and Megan Kelso.

I am interested in independent booksellers' selections for kids and teens, especially when libraries are clearing away dusty old dandelions in favor of plastic roses. Public library collections may still have some out of print and weird old volumes but they more and more tend to exclude radical and esoteric titles in favor of middling bestsellers. While indie booksellers' selection of politically leftist titles may be better than most public libraries, the titles tend to be more sneakily subversive or liberal than brazenly revolutionary, such as the quite good books on this list:
http://radicalseeksenlightenment.blogspot.com/2008/06/radical-childrens-books-reference-list.html

And why are there so few radical books for young people? And what does it mean that booksellers provide more materials on marginalized topics than the supposed repository of free information on "all points of view on current and historical issues" (according to the Library Bill of Rights)?

So much literature for young people is didactic and moralistic to inculcate values in our malleable and pigtailed- to grow them up right. Depending on our politics we can construe a particular pedagogy as refreshing or poisonous. So even if the reader agrees with the agenda it must be gracefully delivered without being cringeworthy and heavy handed. In one of his earlier books, Herbert Kohl wrote about his students' resistance to attempts to radicalize them. For me, anarchism's inherent anti-authoritarianism is about acknowledging the agency of everyone to come to radicalism without paternalist teachings. Becoming a radical activist or developing any political feeling happens when life experience and education coalesce, usually around young adulthood. In this spirit, I wonder if subtly progressive books like Where the Wild Things Are or Mole Music are more effective than more overt titles like The Little Squatters' Handbook. While I am desperate for more radical titles, I sometimes find that children's literature that instructs counter to the dominant culture is in danger of sermonizing or congratulating, either by scolding hopeful converts or offering secret handshakes.

I wonder if the current political climate is breeding titles for a young progressive and activist readership. There are graphic novels: Dangerous Woman: The Graphic Biography of Emma Goldman; Students for a Democratic Society: A Graphic History; and A People's History of American Empire and there are books on animals, the environment, and peace:  Tin Lizzie, Tracking Trash: Flotsam, Jetsam, and the Science of Ocean Motion, Wild Animals in Captivity, and Why War is Never a Good Idea.

Do these books collectively herald the uselessness of adults to solve these problems and the concomitant burden on young folks?

Of the three radical books I bought, As the World Burns may be the most accessible as it looks like a Powerpuff Girls' presentation of Anarchism 101 (with a healthy dose of primitivism). While the illustrations have been criticized for their, um, primitiveness, I love Stephanie McMillan's twee but still fierce style-reminiscent of Hope for the Flowers- with a multitude of animals and identifiable villains. The text is sometimes repetitive and sloppy and too many words are used when pictures would suffice. I found this title to be life changing for me, but it is problematic, seductive, glamorous and simplistic; our questions are left unsatisfied. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if life were this simple, the problems we face so easily solvable? Every cell in my body wants for recycling to save the day, wants for shorter showers to save enough water for the rivers to run free…we will go quietly, meekly, to the end of the world, if only you allow us to believe that buying low energy light bulbs will save us," laments Jensen. These are significant thoughts.

The end of the book is messy and the animal uprising is more than a little ridiculous.  There is also no serious race/class/able-bodied privilege analysis.  How will folks without privilege fight the revolution with their bunny pals? This is however an apt satire of books like Down-to-Earth Guide to Global Warming and the kid's version of An Inconvenient Truth: The Crisis of Global Warming which cheers kids to "save the world" (really…all of it?) by bullying their parents into recycling and changing their lightbulbs. As the World Burns untidily unravels the liberal truths of lifestylism and pacifism and refocuses on the guilt of industry and corporations.

I confess that I bought Hey, Kidz! Buy This Book because of the glorious Megan Kelso. The pictures here are illustrative of the book's theme and are also darn cute but there are only a few and the book generally sags from too much text and too many appendices and useless cluttered sidebars. Moore's tone can sometimes be too pandering and snarky. But! The message of media literacy and critical thinking is a crucial one for young folks navigating through the sea of logos and brands and advertising. Moore writes of kids' vulnerability and manipulation by big media. Her analysis of the harmful influence of ads (they "flatter, confuse, emulate and research" kids) and marketing and the suffocation of indie and DIY media is spot on.

While the "Try This At Home" sections are awesome, her methods for solving the problem of intrusive media are mostly ineffective. This is always the failure with this kind of book. Voting, consumer choices, and writing letters to congress people won't get the job done, I'm afraid. But she does cover the many means of activism from graffiti to pirate radio to street theater and zines. And she also does not feel shy about advocating semi-illegal acts.

A Young People's History of the United States is an attractive little volume and a good choice for adults (ahem) who had difficulty getting through Zinn's original inspiration for the adaptation. The images are in an unfortunate sepia color and there are not many of them. Unavoidably perhaps the text is dry and I cannot imagine many teens reading this if it is not assigned. It would be a great alternative to high school history texts. Zinn's message of history, community, racism, heroism and anti-colonialism is so important for people of all ages-especially young people-to learn and relearn.

Our next step is to purchase these flawed but necessary additions to radical kid lit for our library collections!

Works Cited

Burns, Loree Griffin. Tracking Trash: Flotsam, Jetsam and the Science of Ocean Motion
Cordelia and Ziggy. The Little Squatters' Handbook
David, Laurie and Cambria Gordon. Down-to-Earth Guide to Global Warming
Drummond, Allan. Tin Lizzie
Jensen, Derrick and Stephanie McMillan. As the World Burns: 50 Simple Things You Can
Do To Stay in Denial
Laidlaw, Rob. Wild Animals in Captivity
McPhail, David. Mole Music
Moore, Anne Elizabeth and Megan Kelso. Hey, Kidz! Buy This Book: A Radical Primer on Corporate and Governmental Propaganda and Artistic Activism for Short People
Paulus, Trina. Hope for the Flowers
Pekar, Harvey and Gary Dumm. Students for a Democratic Society: A Graphic History
Rudahl, Sharon. Dangerous Woman: The Graphic Biography of Emma Goldman
Sendak, Maurice. Where the Wild Things Are
Walker, Alice and Stefano Vitale. Why War is Never a Good Idea
Zinn, Howard and Mike Konopacki. The People's History of American Empire
Zinn, Howard and Rebecca Stefoff. A Young People's History of the United States

Posted by: Kati Nolfi

Posted by: Sarah Lovato

Posted by: Jackie Parker

I decided to become a Youth Service Librarian because I wanted to share my love of reading with young people. When dreaming of my future career while slogging through my MLIS program, I envisioned myself quietly overseeing dedicated young readers as they pursued knowledge, enlightenment, and entertainment. I am a tad embarrassed about how naïve and old-fashioned I was. Luckily, my misconceptions about the librarian job description did not survive my first week on the job in a real-life public library.

Most of the children I work with come from troubled homes. Their parents are usually unwilling or unable to provide any kind of guidance for their children, so the parental duties are left hanging until a responsible adult decides to take them up. Most public libraries are awash with unsupervised children and teens, and librarians are obligated to assume to role of caretaker and disciplinarian in order to keep the peace. That is just one of the many things they don’t think to tell you in library school.

During the course of my employment at the library, I have had to do some things that my pre-librarian self would never have guessed. I have had to pull brawling kids off each other on more than one occasion. I constantly admonish teenagers for calling each other “ugly”, “ignorant”, or a variety of other names that I don’t recognize but am pretty sure are derogatory. I have tried to explain why violence is wrong and why every person should be treated with respect. I have launched a campaign to reinstate “please” and “thank you” into their vocabularies. I have tried to instill a sense of self-worth in them all. And all the while, I have tried to inspire in them a love of reading. Not an easy task!

Contrary to the two-dimensional librarians of yesteryear, today’s librarians have a responsibility to foster not just the intellectual development of children and teens, but the social and emotional development as well. While most librarians take up this mantle willingly, I think the job would be that much sweeter if we could know for certain that our considerable efforts have the power to turn a life around. Do they listen to us? Do they remember what we say? Does our good opinion factor into their decision-making process? And most of all, will we ever convince them that reading is fun?

There are times when it seems that the kids see me as a piece of furniture, but I have to remind myself that because of my close involvement it is difficult to see clearly. Several times in the past year I have had to take a step back from the situation in order to look at the big picture and make sense of it all. When the times get tough and I begin to forget why I ever chose to become a librarian, I reflect the times when I have succeeded (although they are always fewer than I would prefer). I remember all the times when I have been able to get a reluctant reader to sit down with a book, all the times that a child has asked me “please” when before they would have demanded, and especially all the times I have seen some of the local children “play librarian” when they think I’m not looking.

Someone recently reminded me that small adjustments are the least painful and the most successful. Although this person was not referring to library services, I think all librarians should take this aphorism to heart. It is the little changes I see every day, even the ones so subtle they are barely noticeable, that convince me that librarians have the power to inspire, teach, and lead in many different ways (not just by shelving dusty tomes and memorizing the Dewey Decimal System).

Posted by: Eva Mays

Posted by: Pam Coughlan

Posted by: Pam Coughlan

Previously, on Black History Month Picture Books, we covered the earlier part of African American history with fiction and non-fiction books that were educational while telling a good story. Now it’s time to march forward in time with historical fiction, biographies, and even poetry. Yes, even poetry.

Langston’s Train Ride by Robert Burleigh, illustrated by Leonard Jenkins (2004) 978-0-439-35239-0

Fantastic illustrations by Leonard Jenkins make this book a pleasure to peruse, no doubt about that. But the reader will also enjoy being taken along on a journey with Langston Hughes as a young man. As he rides on a train across the country, he is moved by the crossing over the Mississippi River. Words and phrases rush into his head, especially the phrase, “I’ve known rivers.” This book is about personal history, about heritage, and about writing. The full poem, “A Negro Speaks of Rivers,” is included at the end of the book, along with a short biography of Langston Hughes.

Dizzy by Jonah Winter and illustrated by Sean Qualls (2006) 978-0-439-50737-0

With rhythmic—dare I say poetic—text, this book brings the world of Dizzy Gillespie to life for those who never experienced the musical revolution of the 1920s. This particular chapter in American history shouldn’t be passed by—and no one can afford to miss it with lively, fresh artwork and passages like, “It was like he had taken a wrecking ball / and SMASHED IN / The House of Jazz, / ’til the walls came tumbling down.”

Jackie’s Bat, by Marybeth Lorbiecki, illustrated by Brian Pinkney (2006) 978-0-689-84102-6

It’s 1947 and Joey is going to be a batboy for the Brooklyn Dodgers. He’s excited about it, but conflicted about the new player, Jackie Robinson. Joey’s father doesn’t think it’s right for a white boy to serve a black man, so Joey steers clear of Mr. Robinson. But as he continues his time with the Dodgers, he begins to see Jackie Robinson as both a baseball player and a man, which brings forth his own feelings of acceptance. The small story of one boy echoes the larger feelings of the world’s response to this revolutionary baseball player. The book includes some biographical information. The soft, watercolor illustrations complement the text perfectly.

Goin’ Someplace Special, by Patricia C. McKissack, illustrated by Jerry Pinkney (2001) 978-0-689-81885-1

It’s the 1950s and ’Tricia Ann is heading downtown in Nashville to go “Someplace Special.” Her grandmother is reluctant to let her go on her own, but when she relents, ’Trica Ann faces a journey of pride, humiliation, encouragement, and ultimately joy as she reaches her destination—the public library, open to whites and blacks alike. The injustices of the segregated south are made all too real with this likeable character facing off against the obstacles. Pinkney’s lovely watercolors bring just the right feeling of the era to the book.

Rosa, by Nikki Giovanni, illustrated by Bryan Collier (2005) 978-0-439-89883-6

The basic story of Rosa Parks is well known, but you’ll think you’re in for something different after seeing the cover of this book with the ominous man looking down at —the whole thing is so in-your-face and bold. The art in this book is evocative, gripping, and Caldecott Honor-winning. Rosa Parks’s personal story moves into her turning point in the civil rights movement and then continues beyond, covering many of the events surrounding her place in history. The text doesn’t complete her biography by any means, but does provide a starting place for discussion of her role and the larger context of the boycott.

Freedom on the Menu: the Greensboro Sit-Ins by Carole Boston Weatherford, illustrated by Jerome LaGarrique (2004) 978-0-8037-2860-8

Connie would love to sit down at the counter at Woolworth’s and have a banana split, but she knows that African Americans aren’t allowed to do that. Living in Greensboro, North Carolina in 1960, she knows her color dictates where she can drink and eat and much more. But things are changing in town with Dr. King’s speech at a local college chapel and Connie’s older siblings joining the NAACP. The paintings in the book capture the sense of emotion, as well as the more tangible evidence of segregation.

I’ve Seen the Promised Land: The Life of Martin Luther King, Jr. by Walter Dean Myers, illustrated by Leonard Jenkins (2003) 978-0-06-027703-1

A straightforward and brief biography of a hero becomes much more than that in the hands of noted author Walter Dean Myers. The content is just enough to introduce young readers to Dr. King and to his accomplishments and struggles, but not get bogged down in many details. The basics of his personal journey are presented along with essentials of the civil rights movement itself. The text is well done, but it’s the illustrations—the powerful, dramatic art—that make this title extraordinary.

Of course, these books are the tip of the iceberg in exploring African American history, but hopefully will motivate young readers to learn more. And just as important, these titles could prove inspiring for teachers, librarians, and parents to seek out books that are not only good for the mind, but good for the soul.

Posted by: Pam Coughlan

This time of year I find myself feeling a vague discomfort. And, no, it has nothing to do with polishing off a box of Thin Mints in two nights. (Don’t judge me!) During the month of February my librarian version of “Spidey sense” is tingling with the vague knowledge that all over America, teachers, librarians, and parents are picking out boring books for Black History Month. I don’t blame them, because I’m sure they are not aware of some of the newer, spectacular titles that are perfect for exploring the history of African Americans. These books cover a broad range of ages in elementary school, but as picture books they keep the storyline tight and the art engaging. For teachers or librarians who want to take the opportunity to educate their students, or for parents who want to open up conversation about their heritage, these are books that don’t put forth pages of facts and dull pictures. No, these are the books that say, “Let me tell you a story.”

Henry’s Freedom Box, by Ellen Levin, illustrated by Kadir Nelson (2007) 043977733X

At a young age, Henry is given to his master’s son and begins work in a tobacco factory. Allowed to marry a slave of another owner, he is torn apart when his wife and children are sold. With the help of a white abolitionist doctor he arranges to have himself mailed to Philadelphia and to freedom. It’s a brave and dangerous escape, and is based on a true story. This book was a Caldecott Honor Book for Kadir Nelson’s stunning and evocative illustrations.

The Escape of Oney Judge: Martha Washington’s Slave Finds Freedom, written and illustrated by Emily Arnold McCully (2007) 0374322252

Oney Judge grew up as a house slave and seamstress for Martha Washington, living with the family in Mount Vernon and moving with the family to the new capital of the country, Philadelphia. As Oney grows into a young woman, she finds out that instead of being set free when her mistress dies, that she will be given to one of Martha Washington’s relatives. She decides to escape and free herself from the grasp of one of the greatest icons of American history. The watercolor and ink artwork complement the story perfectly, and additional information is provided about Oney Judge’s later life.

Only Passing Through: The Story of Sojourner Truth, by Anne Rockwell, illustrated by R. Gregory Christie (2002) 044041766X

Isabella lived a particularly difficult life as a young slave, having been sold three times before she was thirteen. At sixteen, she could do the work of a man, but was forced to marry so she could bear children. Living in New York, she was to become free in 1827 according to the law, though her owner tried to cheat her of her freedom. As she grew older, Isabella grew stronger in her desire to fight slavery however she could and she changed her name to Sojourner Truth and spoke out against the evils of slavery. The illustrations are abstract and interesting, as different and unique as the woman herself.

Night Boat to Freedom, by Margot Theis Raven, illustrated by E. B. Lewis (2006) 0374312664

At his grandmother’s urging, a young black boy rows other slaves across the river and to freedom. While John is strong, it’s thought that he is young enough that his absence at night will go unnoticed. Eventually though, he needs to make the journey to freedom himself and he’s not going without the older woman who has given him strength. Punctuated with passages where the grandmother sews a quilt based on the color the freed slaves are wearing, it lends a poetic sense to the phrase, “What color is freedom tonight?” The illustrations are stunning, bringing into focus the subtle shades of night and the sharpness of color. There’s a two-page spread of slave traders leading the younger Grandmother aboard a slave ship with promises of bright red flannel that is absolutely mesmerizing.

Moses: When Harriet Tubman Led Her People to Freedom, by Carole Boston Weatherford, illustrated by Kadir Nelson (2006) 0786851759

Steeped in the religion that formed a deep influence in her life, this book shows Harriet Tubman’s escape from slavery, led by the voice of the Lord. She subsequently is compelled to go back and rescue her family and numerous other slaves. The story is heavy in its religious tone, though appropriate in terms of her beliefs and experiences. The illustrations by Kadir Nelson are breathtaking, making the Caldecott Honor award for this book well-earned.

Martha Ann’s Quilt for Queen Victoria, by Kyra E. Hicks, illustrated by Le Edward Fodi (2006) 1933285591

In 1830, Martha Ann and her family bought their freedom, and with the assistance of the American Colonization Society, moved to Liberia to live. The children could attend school in Liberia, and they were finally free from slavery in America. Even after a deadly fever took away her mother and father, the children decided to stay in the country far from their home. When the queen of England sent ships to patrol the coast of Liberia to keep slave catchers away, Martha Ann made herself a promise to meet Queen Victoria someday. Through years of waiting and some hard times, Martha Ann never forgot her goal, and worked to make it come true. This book shows a different perspective on this time in history, and offers a lesson in reaching for our dreams.

Show Way, by Jacqueline Woodson, illustrated by Hudson Talbott (2005) 0399237496

This Caldecott Honor Award-winning book is a true stunner in both the illustrations for which it was judged and the text that shapes the stories of generations of African American women. Starting with Soonie’s great-grandmother, who was sold away when she was seven, and left her with muslin, two needles, and red thread from her mama, the story follows the trials and paths of the next seven generations up to the author’s baby. The story covers the “show way” quilts, which were sewn to give other slaves messages to help them on their journeys. The story goes along the path on the Civil War and to a time of reconstruction and then of civil rights. Throughout there are echoes of the quilts from that first piece of muslin and red thread. An amazing and moving book that may have readers tearing up at each repeat of, “Loved that baby up so. Yes, they loved that baby up.”

On Friday I’ll continue with picture books that cover the 1900s and the Civil Rights Movement. Until then, work on making sure the previous seven titles are part of your public, school, and/or personal library.

Posted by: Pam Coughlan

Posted by: Sara Wingate Gray

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

You know the kind. They’re from publishers gone astray, who’ve led kidlit authors down the garden path of gimmickry. These books are more tease than text, with doodads pouring out of their shrink wrapping like muffin tops over low-rise jeans.

The Big Houses are the most promiscuous, as you might expect, in fudging the centuries-old definition of “book” with puzzles, blocks, charms, chalk and – lest we forget – stacks of CDs. They arrive unsolicited by the carton, bright and loud and clashing, clamoring for my children’s attention, screeching sour notes with their awkward meter, near-miss rhymes or “activities” that occupy some time but few brain cells.

My favorite independent publishers aren’t immune – and you know who you are. Though when I sat down to make a list of what I’d gotten recently and from whom, I discovered to my pleasant surprise that the most memorable “value addeds” were from the independent houses. There was a Mozart CD and a build-it-yourself-microphone that briefly bobbed to the Top of the Tots list at our home.

But when did reading stop being enough? You have to distract kids from learning actual words with book-like-thingamabobs because the symbol that really matters is the capital S with a vertical line through it, $ee? Sorry to sound cynical. It seems to be a part of a parent’s job description.

Sure, I come across many quaint, traditional stories with such outmoded “features” as character arcs, plots, metaphor, subtext and even big words. Give me Candlewick or Peachtree or Barefoot Books or Kane/Miller or geeky Sylvan Dell. They’re the Bohemian literary types renting a fifth-floor walk-up and subsisting on Ramen Supreme while the Value Addeds make all the money and fret about being properly accessorized.

I have no statistics to back up my assertion the stuff is everywhere. But I can hear it. So much of it pings and rattles, clicks, clacks, rings, purrs and, mostly, breaks. The box should say: Some re-assembly required.

Somebody with marketing credentials could probably pinpoint how much worse it’s getting. I do know that I usually throw away brochures and even whole catalogs from the Big Houses listing licensed characters and movie tie-ins and whatnot. Occasionally, this stuff arrives anyway, and I have to toss it or give it away—quick—before my kids spot it and I’m doomed to plot cliché hell.

But the Value Added stuff is tougher. Some of it’s too clunky to hide, doesn’t fit easily into the trash, or is made of materials too suspect to recycle.

My anecdotal evidence is that, yes, the Value Added books—and I use the term “books” loosely—are becoming more ubiquitous and brazen. I’m not talking your standard lift-the-flap or scratch-n-sniff or touch-n-feel or snort-n-drool or whatever. Those books have been around since, well, I dunno. A long time, I suspect.

A Humongous House once sent a full set of classic books with tiny dangly charms off the spine: Black Beauty, Secret Garden, a few others. We’re talking cheap, easily ingested, vacuum-clogging doodads probably made from lead or spent nuclear fuel rods. The sort of girl who can be lured into reading a book because it dangles a bauble probably has a ton of them already. Baubles, that is, not books. And the sort of girl who loves reading classic children’s books is, I would guess, doing so for rewards other than cheesy graft made by Chinese prison laborers.

I’m talking about boxes of puzzles attached to paperbacks that were drearily written, like the writer was stuck with this stupid ol' Easy Reader while his luckier colleagues got to translate complicated assembly instructions from Japanese into Pidgin.

I’m talking about books with magnets, books with gameboards, books with moving parts or pieces missing—deliberately. As if I need children’s books that come pre-destroyed.

Odd thing is, I don’t spot these books in bookstores, where the printed word still rules, but I do see them in toy stores from time to time. That’s fine for Cranium or Chronicle, with its brilliant, well-designed SmartLab line. But then I see smart parents buying smart toys and dumb books, which seems a pity and winds up wasting space in the landfill.

I can also give a little ground on the subject of CDs, which I see nearly all the publishers doing. For a biography of Mozart from North-South Books, a CD was indispensable, but another publisher sent one of bird songs that was fatally scratched. Now the CDs in my house are subjected to delicate surgery to pry them from skintight sleeves and place them in clearly labeled jewel cases—entirely too much work for one harried Mom.

I’m not a Luddite, truly. I embrace any technology that drives production costs down and makes all kinds of publishing innovations possible. But can I ask on behalf of my kids, their friends, their teachers and other busy parents that there be some motive for the onslaught of Value Addeds other than desperation?

For example, I recently had dinner with Sondra LaBrie, marketing guru for Kane/Miller, which reprints foreign picture books. She proudly described her house’s commitment to its backlist.

“Some of these books have been around longer than I’ve been there,” she said.

For books to hang around several years after their artificially imposed “sell by” date, you can bet their charms are found in their pages, not dangling from their spines.

Posted by: Anne Boles Levy

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

You can live a long time in New York City and never know about rather large, rather important, rather influential literary organizations until they pop up in front of your nose. So it was that had you said the words, "PEN American Center" or "PEN Children's Book Committee" to me roughly one week ago I would have smiled blankly at you and blinked in discomfort. PEN? Oh dear. This is something obvious, isn't it? Yep. Quite simply it is, "An association of writers working to advance literature, defend free expression, and foster international literary fellowship." The kind of organization that can boast members like Susan Sontag, W.H. Auden, and Langston Hughes. Oh me oh my.

I received via e-mail an invitation to attend a panel of prize-winning children's authors under the title Dreadful Lies/Peculiar Truths. Present would be Susan Campbell Bartoletti (Newbery Honor winner for Hitler Youth), Robert Lipsyte (YA author of The Contender and, more recently, Heroes of Baseball), Vera B. Williams (A Chair for My Mother, as if you didn't know), and moderator Susan Kuklin (who, amongst other things, did that very nice picture book Dance with Bill T. Jones).

You live in New York, you get spoiled. Yet even jaded little me didn't want to pass up the chance to hear these people talk about "how we navigate the narrow strait between providing brute facts and protecting young readers." Yowza! Sounded hot. So at 7:00 p.m. I walked into a quintessentially New York building. Now, the map will call it The New York Center for Independent Publishing but when you mosey in off the street what you think you've stumbled into is The General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen. That's what all the interior signs call it anyway. The space is an odd, though not unpleasant, mixture of gilt, gold, marble, wrought iron, glass, must, and framed flags. Lotsa framed flags. You've soaring heights and magnificently narrow bathrooms all at once. Had the evening been a bust I would have been content to peaceably stare around myself in abject awe. As it was, I didn't have to worry too much about becoming bored.

I should mention right now that the entire affair was recorded for podcasting. If you would like to hear firsthand some of the things said, merely go here and find the panel discussion in full.

A couple things became very clear, very fast. First off, Robert Lipsyte is not afraid to voice his opinion on any and all subjects. The result is that he's custom-made for good sound bites. When discussing his book on Muhammad Ali he'll mention that older sportswriters hated him and younger sportswriters loved him, "and we were both wrong." Or he'd say (and this is pretty true) that in YA novels the "gay kid has replaced the magical Negro" in terms of creating a diverse foil for the protagonist. Bartoletti is just as honest but subdued. She was very good at picking up where her fellow panelists would leave off and weave their discussions into her own work. Williams for her part started off slowly, but when she got rolling she was fun to listen to. I enjoyed hearing her discuss how, as a child, she took on the cause of children, of which she was one. Williams the younger felt oppressed by authorities figures (perhaps her sister in particular). Whether or not that comes out in her works is up for discussion.

Being that the evening was based on the concept of providing honest books for young readers, it seemed logical for the discussion to take into account the idea of what it is to "lie." Lipsyte was adamant on this point. He made it very clear that lying is NEVER acceptable in children's books. Williams then clarified that when it comes to writing books for children you have to deal with "another kind of honesty" particularly if you are working within the limitations of a picture book format. Authors in these cases must condense the truth without perverting it. No easy task. Bartoletti followed this up with the observation that we should tell our stories as honestly as we can. If a story doesn't grab her and is just meant to "teach," then she won't write it. It is important to remember too though that, as Lipsyte said, there's a difference between a mere suspension of disbelief and "bullshit." Interestingly, Williams mentioned that some people feel that her own books have "lied." In A Chair for My Mother the neighbors all pitch in when someone loses their home. Yet a woman once told her that this kind of communal reaction would never happen in her own neighborhood and was, therefore, dishonest. So if a piece of writing doesn't speak to the experiences of the reader, they may decide it doesn't reflect their own reality and, therefore, lies. Bartoletti would later point out that silence itself in the context of a book can be considered a lie, so there's that to consider as well.

It all got me to thinking too. I mean, what do we consider "lying" in fiction? Remember the anger that was lobbied against The Boy in the Striped Pajamas? Were people mad because they felt that the whole fable aspect wasn't a delightful trope but, instead, a very painful lie? How can an author tell the difference?

 The conversation segued nicely into Bartoletti's comments on how this all applies to non-fiction. She pointed out that in the ’90s, protagonists in works of nonfiction books about labor were passive (think kids in mills) while in fictional books like Lyddie they were active. Her desire behind her book Kids On Strike was to show real kids in real life "actually with an agency" that belied the old stereotype. Now here's where Kuklin, who has been moderating the entire evening with aplomb, really gets clever. She ties these statements of Bartoletti into Lipsyte's earlier statement that his books show "all the warts." He noted that not ALL the warts appear in his books. That wouldn't make it children's literature, after all. But sure enough a book like Heroes of Baseball displays the ugly side of baseball "heroes." Says Lipsyte about the book, you need to show enough of what is good and enough of what is bad about these characters. Let the kids draw their own conclusions. He went on to say that he enjoyed Hitler Youth because it dared to make you think to yourself, "Would I have been a Hitler Youth?"

 The evening could have been considered interesting from a YA perspective alone. First of all, consider Robert Lipsyte. Since YA fiction finds its roots in a variety of different titles, you can't necessarily call Lipsyte's The Contender the first of its kind. Still, there's no denying that the man must be credited as one of the founders of young adult fiction intended for young adults. At the same time, the audience around me appeared to be filled with David Levithan's New School students on a field trip. So when Lipsyte started to tear into the more chick lit-ish aspects of some YA books (emphasis, and the word itself, my own) I was amazed to see the Levithanians did not rise as one or, at the very least, offer some kind of response to some of his choicer statements.

 Other people offered questions at the end. Smart questions too. One man asked about how authors deal with the elimination of additional dimensions in children's works. This led to a discussion of editing vs. censorship. Another person brought up children's films and I was delighted to see Ms. Williams say that movies for kids definitely have less honesty than books. And when Bartoletti mentioned how books have a much wider subject range, it got me to thinking. Maybe this accounts for the popularity of book trailers. When you live in a time period where realistic children's books get filmed only when you drop in CGI elements (Bridge to Terabithia) or when you film them for television (Pictures of Hollis Woods) then you see instantly how limited they are, compared to books.

 A good time was had by all, I think. I was satisfied and I'll certainly be watching PEN for even more upcoming events in the future. Hopefully I'll get to see how all of this applies to the books I read and review close at hand.

 
  * For the podcast of Dreadful Lies/Peculiar Truths

  * For the podcast on the PEN site of a recent interview done with Susan Patron and Robie Harris (so so cool)

Posted by: Elizabeth Bird, New York Public Library

As a children’s librarian who gets to look at all the new books as they roll into my library, I like to keep an eye peeled for the trends of a given year. There are the usual trends, like 500+ page fantasy novels, dragons, dead moms, dead dogs, dead dog mothers, etc. There are also the unusual trends like sentient cheese (very big in 2006) and historical fiction titles where kids get their hands and arms mangled in a gruesome historically accurate fashion (ibid). In 2007, however, there has been a trend that will make for quite a lot of confusion and contention this upcoming award season: Books Beyond Categories.

What I mean by that is that there are certain books that refuse to be neatly arranged under a single category. They straddle the genres. When an author or an illustrator draws upon their own innate creativity to the fullest, their books become richer. That’s the good news. The bad news is that this will hurt them severely come the 2007 awards. Take a gander at some of the books I’m talking about and see if I’m not at all correct.

First of all there is The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick from the Arthur A. Levine imprint of Scholastic (the one that brought you Harry Potter, actually). It is undoubtedly the best known of these books of 2006. Selznick’s tale of a boy who lives in a Parisian train station while attempting to repair his father’s mechanical automaton rocketing up the New York Times Bestseller List and was featured on Al Roker’s Book Club for Kids. The title is remarkable since at a 500+ page count, more than half the book consists of illustrations. The result is more silent movie than graphic novel. When an exciting scene or bit of action comes up, the pages suddenly revert to black and white images. Hugo is sometimes seen running through a crowded station or disappearing behind a telltale gate. Much of the story is based on the real life of filmmaker George Melies, so photographs and stills from early or lost silent films also appear throughout the tale. It makes for an eclectic bit of storytelling but because it doesn’t slot neatly into fiction, non-fiction, or graphic novel categories, awards will be few and far between for Selznick’s masterpiece.

The Arrival by Shaun Tan is yet another Arthur A. Levine book (the man knows how to pick ‘em) and with its October release date this title is poised to be the most impressive children’s novel of the year. I am not kidding. Originally released in Australia, Tan’s tale takes the Hugo Cabret idea one step further. It’s entirely wordless. Telling through pictures the tale of a man as he immigrates to a foreign land, the book sounds like something you may have seen before. Cleverly, Tan ups the ante, as it were, by putting you directly into his hero’s shoes. Not only is everything foreign to the hero, but it’s also foreign to you. You can’t understand the language, the animals, the foods, or the customs. The simple act of looking through a small apartment’s appliances becomes frightening and strange. As our hero attempts to find lodging, food, and a place to work he meets other immigrants from different countries who convey their own stories of escape and survival. Without a single word this is the most moving, intelligent, thoughtful book I have seen in years and years. Designed like an old photo album and containing mostly sepia-toned images, you cannot read this thing cover to cover and not be struck by its superior storytelling. Of course, there is no award for wordless books out there. Worse still, because it was originally published in Australia, “The Arrival” is not eligible for many American prizes. A pity as it is a must read and a real shining gem.

Switching gears, here is a title that will have many a library cataloger scratching their heads. Good Masters! Sweet Ladies!: Voices from a Medieval Village by Laura Amy Schlitz is not quite non-fiction but certainly not entirely fictional. Yet Schlitz has created a book that turns out to be an answer to more than few prayers. As a children’s librarian, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dealt with patrons who have begged me for plays for children. Of course, no play written has ever had equal parts for all characters since it normally cannot be done. Enter, Schlitz’s book. The title contains 18 different voices of kids, tweens, and teens living in an average everyday English village. A map at the beginning shows where they live, but it’s their monologues that really tell their tales. Schlitz is gifted in her characterizations, but she never neglects to add real world facts when she can. Footnotes and factual inserts inform her audience while her characters talk about their lives. Because the Newbery Award can be given to both fiction and non-fiction, Schlitz’s book is my number one pick for that award this year. Yet because most awards like to relegate titles like this to a single category, I think that many people will fail to notice Schlitz’s effort or, worse, squirrel it away rather than deal with a book this original and eclectic.

Moving beyond the usual categories can certainly be informative, but kids are sometimes even more willing to try out new formats than their adult counterparts. Here’s a classic example. Though it may not be the first book of its kind, it’s certainly one of the more interesting ideas out there. In Middle School is Worse Than Meatloaf, two time Newbery Honor winner Jennifer L. Holm tells the tale of Ginny as she enters seventh grade. The catch? The novel is told entirely through her stuff. Notes passed in class, refrigerator reminders, receipts, detention slips, and other ephemera tell us the story of Ginny and her various travails. In a book such as this the illustrator is just as important as the author and artist Elicia Castaldi is more than up to the job. Her pages just overflow with junk and clues as to why Ginny grows so depressed as her year continues. This is the story of an everygirl told through the most minute of cast-offs. That makes for great storytelling, but no award for writing or illustration is going to claim it as its own. More’s the pity since this is one book kids will have a ball reading.

Kids also have a sweet spot for comics, and as a children’s librarian I say loud and proud that I do not mind one little bit. Now anyone with a passing familiarity with underground comics knows that they don’t naturally lend themselves to the picture book format. Plus the fact that artist Mark Newgarden’s last book was titled, “We All Die Alone”…. well, it doesn’t inspire much in the way of confidence. Yet when it comes to great picture books of the year place, Bow-Wow Bugs a Bug, on the top of the heap for me. Part picture book, part graphic novel, the book is entirely wordless and utterly sublime. The premise is remarkably simple too. Bow-Wow, the pup, follows a bug out of the house with a single-minded intensity. As he walks around the block his experiences become increasingly bizarre. Funnier than it has any right to be, “Bow-Wow” is one of those books created on the computer that work. Too nice to be a cartoon and too cartoony to be seriously considered for an award, this is a worthwhile purchase flying just below the radar.

Speaking of computer work, when I say, “web comic” to you, is your first instinct, “Great book concept!” No? Yeah, it’s not mine either. Yet somebody at Abrams had the wherewithal to look at Jeff Kinney’s online saga of an average kid and his adventures in the strip Diary of a Wimpy Kid and put it between two shiny red covers. The result? A New York Times Bestseller and one of the funniest books of the year. Part journal and part comic, Kinney hones in on a kid’s school year and the various troubles he runs across. The design of the book is extraordinary and the storyline far better than you’d expect from an online site. It may be one of the first successful leaps from the electronic to the physical page (rather than the other way around).

I appreciate that you can’t make an award for every kind of book out there, but should the current standards be relaxed? Should the Caldecott go to any book that uses illustration in some way? Should the Newbery consider pictures? It’s a brave new world, and I hope our awards change to embrace the delightful changes we’re seeing each and every day. Otherwise artists are going to be inclined to be less creative so as to get some awards and push some paper. I can only hope that these books make one heckuva impact in the meantime.

Posted by: Elizabeth Bird, New York Public Library