Last week, I asked "Why would so much depend upon a red wheelbarrow?" and this week, I found a boy-protagonist echoing me. "What do you mean -- Why does so much depend upon a blue car? You didn't say before that I had to tell why. The wheelbarrow guy didn't tell why." Meet Jack, who tells his story through free-spirited verses he writes (reluctantly at first) based on the classics his teacher, Miss Stretchberry, shares in class. Like me, Jack doesn't 'get' poetry at first but gradually learns to enjoy the pictures formed in his head. What kind of protagonist is Jack? He doesn't mince his words about how he thinks boys don't write poetry, and about the line spacing his teacher ought to use.
He is often unsure of himself and asks to remain anonymous whenever Miss Stretchberry requests to post his writings on the class board . He is a little sad though he doesn't tell us that, or why. Readers would find out, of course, towards the end. Still, he never betrays a sliver of self-pity.This is a great story to be shared in class, for children reading poetry and for those who love dogs. Yeah, Jack's good ol' yellow dog.
Jack is very fortunate to have a caring and encouraging teacher like Miss Stretchberry, who bakes delicious brownies for the class. (What luck!) Have you ever had such a Miss Stretchberry in your school-life? ... I know not everyone enjoys novels written in verse. I'm a huge fan and have come across several outstanding middle-grade stories written in this fashion, with down-to-earth and honest narrative voices, quietly bright tones, and refreshing line-break choices. Perhaps it has to do with my difficulty in reading long prose when I was 9-12. This sort of writing would have helped me tremendously back then, so I'm glad it is now an option for young readers.
Love That Dog is followed by Hate That Cat. If you've enjoyed Jack in this one, remember to pick up the latter, too.
"When I was younger it was plain to me I must make something of myself." ~ William Carlos Williams "Pastoral" Reasons I went in search of this picture book: - It's about a poet.
- Melissa Sweet is the artist of this book. {Remember Melissa's collage and water colour artwork from my Marionette Man post?}
- Its title. I love rivers. I love words and how they flow.
A River of Words ...takes us through William Carlos Williams's childhood, leading to how he became a doctor and a poet. Willie would go for walks to explore and observe. He would listen to the water "slipping and sliding over the smooth rocks" by the river and fall asleep along to its music. So Much Depends Upon A Red Wheelbarrow ...I didn't get it in the past. Why would so much depend upon a red wheelbarrow? Or the white chickens? Why would anyone write a poem about stealing plums from the fridge? Imagine my relief when I discover that poetry often isn't about imagining another world; it is about observing your world and writing it down as honestly as you can. If a stanza morphs into a metaphor, whoo-hoo! For the rest, just let the words flow into a river and allow the waters to touch your mind as pictures and sounds. That was what Willie did. He wrote about fire engines, the moon in the treetops, children, and squabbling sparrows. He watched, he listened then he wrote it all down. ... "I must make something of myself." All day, Willie delivered babies, healed hurts and took care of the sick. When night arrived, he climbed to his attic, sat at his desk, read the notes on things he'd heard, seen or done, and wrote. I think Willie made many things of himself, one of which was to influence us to make something of ourselves. I am now a little farther on my way because of this gorgeous book. ... White, papery moths flitting on top of green rain-treetops. Invisible birds trilling, chirping, whistling. Wherever you are now, what do you see? What do you hear?
I'll be blogging on picture books and middle-grade novels (for readers aged 9-12) from now on. Here's an MG novel I've plunged into lately: "In the dolphin family, if one is lost, all are lost." A girl lives with her family of dolphins. They play, they eat, they swim 'in the path of the moon,' they sing in the sea and await the birth of baby cousins, or mourn the letting-go of family. They are always together, even when the girl has to sleep away from the dolphins. One day, a team of rescuers takes the girl away from her dolphin family and gives her a human name ~ Mila. Under the care of researchers, Mila learns English. Mila learns music. Mila learns when she was four, she went missing from a boat crash. Doctor Beck and her son, Justin, Assistant Sandy, and another feral child, Shay, become Mila's human family. They have happy times. They have heartbreaking times. But none of the pain matches the one that is shutting Mila's heart as she realizes she needs her dolphin mother. She needs to go back to the sea. She needs to be given back to the water.School Library Journal calls The Music of Dolphins "A song of beauty and sorrow, haunting and unforgettable."
Won't be forgetting this one for a long, long time. The protagonist's voice is so strong I heard her the clearest when she was shutting down.
...Have you read this or other stories on feral children?
Here's a book of simple joy for the week: Every Friday, a boy and his father walk to their favourite diner for breakfast. Just the two of them, strolling down the lane bustling with people on their way to work. The boy and his father walk past changing landscapes, wave to friendly neighbours and dogs, and count the number of blocks to go. When they finally reach their favourite diner, they sit down for their "usuals." {The boy loves pancakes.} They talk about everything under the sky during this special Friday breakfast. I love the Father-and-son theme and the warm routine of the pair. There is nothing fussy about the storyline, and nothing extravagant in the text. Only page after artistic page of nostalgia. My favourite scene is the last. I'm tempted to give it away, but I know I can't. {That last page is special. I want you to smile when you get there.} Read Every Friday whenever you need a sweet, simple story. Read Every Friday whenever you think about your father. Read Every Friday whenever you need a coat of family love. Dan Yaccarino wrote and illustrated this book. He also illustrated "Boy + Bot," a story I blogged about last year: This Bot I Like. ...Do you have a special routine with a dear family? I'd love to hear about it.
Since last year, I've been reading more middle-grade novels than picture books. I'm looking forward to sharing my thoughts on MG novels from now on, too ~ stories that have touched my world in their own ways. Thanks for coming by & have a great week!
There's much anxiety and grief going round the world this past week. Everyday, we piece our broken bits together and hope to heal. This piecing-and-hoping is good. The edges will not always fit. There might be further cuts. And there will always be cracks. (Leonard Cohen says, that's how the light gets in. Sometimes the light streams in, sometimes it is harder to catch. But no matter. Let the light in.)
My heart goes out to the families who are in pain. Praying for more Light to enter your home and hearts.
And for the rest of us who are safe and healthy, it's good to be alive and doing what we do. And to be amongst you fun, funny, big-hearted folks.
...
An update on New Life: thank you all for your well-wishes on my sister and Baby Olive. The family's doing great. Here's a shot my sister and brother-in-law love of her:
This curious creature comes with dimples and long limbs. Don't let the soft lens fool you, though, Olive's quite a screamer.
Be very well, everyone.
Love,
C.
Read this magical tale the other day. Here's its synopsis on the cover flap:
"Each night, in the hours between supper and bedtime,
the Tear Thief carries her waterproof sack over her shoulder
as she soundlessly steals the tears of every child who cries.
But what does she do with all of those tears?
And why are the tears of real sadness the most special of all?"
The Tear Thief had short spiky white hair and big, grey eyes. She wore a handkerchief dress and silk slippers that made no sound. She stole tears like women collect jewels.
Tears of rage were red as rubies. Tears of envy or jealousy were emerald green. Tears of self-pity were turquoise. Scared tears were moonstone white. And guilty tears were amber. Tears of real sorrow were the most precious, and they were worth more than diamonds.
What the thief did with the tears was revealed in a dreamy manner. Despite being a story about tears, it brought a glow of calmness and many smiles.
Carol Ann Duffy has written a poetic dream of a story and Nicoletta Ceccoli has enlivened it with her "beautiful and ethereal illustrations." 'Ethereal' is the perfect word for her artwork. My writerly self is extremely envious of the concept of stealing tears. How I wish I'd thought of it!
Have you come across this beauty?
...
Sorry I haven't been been around for a little while. The whole family has been awaiting my younger sister and brother-in-law's baby to arrive {any day now ...}. Baby Olive, I have many books to show you. Can't wait to meet you ~
A little Taiwanese girl, Shau-yu, walks to a traditional provision shop/grocery store to buy eggs for her father. The story is about how this child uses her imagination and humour to discover loveliness along her way to the shop and back.
That was it. That was the whole story. To the shop and back.
Pardon a sprinkle of flashback on my part here: I came upon this book few years ago, when I just started out wanting to write children's literature. Though I liked the sombre colours in contrast to Shau-yu's cheeriness, I didn't 'get' the story. I went, "T...That's it? That's the whole story? No insurmountable task? No impending danger?" I knew I must have missed something.
Today I pick up 'On My Way to Buy Eggs' again, and all the details just spring up from everywhere. The story is still about a part of this girl's almost-daily routine, but I know more now: {spoiler-alert} I know Shau-yu is most likely from a less well-to-do family (it's just her and her father, and she has holes in one of her pockets); she is playful and kind (she follows the shadow of a stray cat and brings a stray dog home after waking it with an accidental gum 'pop'); she is imaginative and observant (Shau-yu enjoys picking up items off the streets, like a blue marble, two stalks of flowers on the corner of a wall, and a pair of glasses).
She puts the glasses on.
"It's a blurry world.
But Shau-yu knows the way."
She plays-hilarious-pretend with the friendly shopkeeper, buys the eggs for egg-fried rice (a common household dish in the Chinese community) and runs home, fully entertained by big-world questions and small-world beauties. Yeah, she was just walking to a shop to buy eggs, but it was a trip filled with such delight.
When Shau-yu, which means 'little fish' in Mandarin, peers at the world through the blue marble, she describes herself as one swimming in a big, blue sea. And you can bet this little fish isn't going to miss the wonderful details in the sea; this little fish is going to bring some of those loveliness home to her father, too.
That was it. That was the whole story. And I like it a-heck-of-a-lot more this time round.
...
I remember visiting traditional provision shops when I was little. You could get all sorts of things there: toilet paper, peanut butter, soy sauce, a chocolate bar, a broom, and, of course, eggs & more. And the shopkeeper would most likely be someone your parents knew from the old days, a neighbour in their village. But being the doofus I was, I didn't observe my surroundings like Shau-yu did.
Do you remember the old provision shop you frequented in childhood? Do you think it's still there?
Take a break from the madness in March. Enjoy some interesting book covers I found on Pinterest! ...
I'd also like to thank Michelle over at Vintage Cobweb for awarding me this: There are no rules to accepting this award, and I'd like to pass it along to all of my fellow bloggers. There's a reason why I keep visiting your blogs, and it's only because you guys write fabulous posts!
Happy International Women's Day!
Deep, honest things beautiful women had/have said:
{Pictures & Quotes from GoodReads.}
 “Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.' 'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit. 'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.' 'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?' 'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.” ― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit
 “Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” ― Marilyn Monroe
 “You can only become truly accomplished at something you love. Don’t make money your goal. Instead pursue the things you love doing and then do them so well that people can’t take their eyes off of you.” ― Maya Angelou
 “Anyone can hide. Facing up to things, working through them, that's what makes you strong.” ― Sarah Dessen
 If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.” ― Emily Dickinson“The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.” ― Emily Dickinson
 “We're all under the same sky and walk the same earth; we're alive together during the same moment.” ― Maxine Hong Kingston, The Woman Warrior“Long ago in China, knot-makers tied string into buttons and frogs, and rope into bell pulls. There was one knot so complicated that it blinded the knot-maker. Finally an emperor outlawed this cruel knot, and the nobles could not order it anymore. If I had lived in China, I would have been an outlaw knot-maker.” ― Maxine Hong Kingston, The Woman Warrior
...
What other adventurous/courageous/beautiful things have you heard? Do you have a favourite quote to share?
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