#PBwithJ: THESE OLIVE TREES and BÁBO

I’ve been looking forward to reading THESE OLIVE TREES by Aya Ghanameh at least since this Twitter thread about the dearth of Palestinian books in children’s publishing (the post points to this article by Nora Lester Murad on the School Library Journal website). I’ve got the book in hand now and there’s a lot I like about it, particularly how the illustrations capture the texture of risograph printing, which, if you read my post on illustration styles through the decades, you know is one of my favorites.

Ghanameh’s zine: HOME. A REFLECTION

I’m impressed, also, that the book ends on something of a hopeful note. You have the feeling that these olive trees, uprooted, bulldozed, displaced and otherwise destroyed, remain resilient and will survive as seeds. Or maybe that’s just me looking for hope.

My mind keeps going back to this short film, YEARBOOK by Bernardo Britto.

In this short, the main character is tasked with recording the entirety of human history on a single hard drive before its extinction. When the hard drive begins to run out of memory, he must decide which people and events get cut. This is a pessimistic take, and to be honest, an uncomfortable one as I offer it from the safety of my North American privilege, but I keep wondering when an author is faced with the genocide of their people, what makes it into the scant 32 pages and some hundred words that make up a picture book?

Author Astrid Kamalyan, Artsakh Armenian, tells the story of her people’s rug washing tradition in BÁBO. It’s a lovely book and I don’t think there’s a wasted line but there’s one right in the middle of the book that captures my imagination. “The hot air in the garden smells like simmering rose jam.” It feels like there’s something important in that image.

BÁBO on my own, forgive me, unwashed rug

I’m not certain what I’m writing about here. I don’t know if I can read either of these books outside the context of genocide, and I don’t know if I even should try to. At the same time, I wish I could celebrate Palestinian and Armenian storytelling for their own sakes. I want to know if there are unicorns in Palestine and dragons in Armenia. I want to know if the poetry and humor of the authors’ writing matches the landscapes of their countries. (If that sounds selfish and indulgent, do know that what I’m really asking for is a world where this kind of selfish indulgence is allowed.)

Ultimately, if this is just about me and why I’m writing this barely-about-picture-books post, I feel a need to bear witness. YEARBOOK ends with the idea that on a cosmic scale all that really matters is the here and now. The here and now, presently, is terrible and I can hardly come to terms not only with the fact that I’m holding two books by two authors who are personally affected by current genocides but there are, in fact, other ongoing genocides happening in the world (Sudanese and Uyghur, to say nothing of indigenous tribes of the Amazon). Hope is hard right now, but I’m glad these books exist and I’m happy to support these authors and to carry some small part of their traditions so that their stories, like the olive seed, may yet survive.

ps: I know the names mentioned in YEARBOOK are heavily Western-centric. If you noticed that and are looking for a broader view of the history of our world, I recommend Bill Wurtz’s HISTORY OF THE ENTIRE WORLD, I GUESS.

pps – be sure to read that When Hope Is Hard article.

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James Marshall Week Day 2: Gorey Details

Alright, I asked you yesterday which Edward inspired James Marshall. You had the choice of Edward Gorey, Edward Ardizzone, and Blake Edwards. The answer?

photo by Julie Danielson from Bill Gray’s scrapbook

The gentleman on the right is none other than Edward Gorey. And, yes, Marshall considered him a master (alongside Maurice Sendak) of picture book illustration. You can see Gorey’s influence in Marshall’s earliest work. Here’s a page from PLINK, PLINK, PLINK (Baylor, Marshall, 1971).

You can see Marshall’s working hard to capture the atmosphere in Gorey’s work and in some places he’s successful (that tree, especially) but his crosshatching isn’t there. Lines in crosshatching are often oriented to follow the form of the object they’re decorating. Marshall accomplishes this in some places (the sloping bannister and the ball top) but in a rudimentary way. Crosshatching can also be used to denote the illustration’s light source but the shading is indistinct and, in some cases contradictory, (the ball at the top of the post is shaded on the left, the post itself is shaded on the right). Mostly, he’s using crosshatching to fill space.

Marshall would later find his strengths in shape, form, and composition to give his characters volume.

GEORGE AND MARTHA ROUND AND ROUND (1988)

But he’d never give up using at least a slight bit of crosshatching. Or in the following example, a lot. Here’s three attempts at filling in Old Mother Hubbard’s skirt, none of which were used as the final art (please excuse the dim quality of the first two pictures, I took these in a low-light archival setting, the last photo is darker and triggered my camera’s flash… if the original should suddenly dissolve, you know who to blame).

from the Thomas J. Dodd Library JAMES MARSHALL PAPERS, University of Connecticut

from the Thomas J. Dodd Library JAMES MARSHALL PAPERS, University of Connecticut

from the Thomas J. Dodd Library JAMES MARSHALL PAPERS, University of Connecticut

The final? It’s wonderful. That drapery is a hard effect to achieve in any technique. James Marshall absolutely nails it here. It’s incredibly intentional (as is my jeans folds being kept in the image).

OLD MOTHER HUBBARD AND HER WONDERFUL DOG (1991)

Oh, incidentally, today (the tenth) is James Marshall’s birthday. Maybe I’ll dip my pen in ink in honor of the occassion. As for the rest of the week… I’m playing it by ear, I’m not sure what else I’ll talk about. If you have any Marshall questions you’d like answered, let me know and I’ll do my best to answer them. See you tomorrow!

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James Marshall Week Day 1: Happy Birthday, James Marshall!

If you ever doubted a person could talk about paper donuts for three hours and forty minutes, I will point you to my last post and perhaps change your mind. If you ever doubted a person could talk about James Marshall for a five days, I will invite you to join me in a celebration of James Marshall’s life this week.

October 10th is James Marshall’s birthday, October 13th marks his passing. I usually acknowledge one or both of those days on Twitter where I’ll share some kind of Marshall-related resource. It doesn’t make sense to do that there any more, so I’m going to bring the party here instead.

It’s So Nice to Have a Wolf Around the House (Allard, Marshall, 1977)

Today, October 9th, is Indigenous Peoples’ day so it feels fitting to open with my own article about Marshall’s appropriation of Native American headdresses in his art. You’ll find that post here (don’t be frightened off by that title, it’s actually a quick read):

To tease our next post, I have a question for you: which of the following Edwards was a young James Marshall’s artistic inspiration?

Edward Gorey
Edward Ardizzone

Blake Edwards

Put your best guess in the comments. See you tomorrow!

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Drummer Hoff/Mutiny on the Bounty

I was listening to Fuse Eight and Kate’s latest podcast and pulled out my copy of DRUMMER HOFF (a highly recommended practice, reading along if you can) and think I saw a picture book-movie connection. General Border looks like a caricature of Charles Laughton.

all in the cheekbones and lips

I can generally spot caricatures and self-inserts in picture books but the intentionality of this one is harder to figure out. None of the other military personnel look like anyone. I’m guessing Emberley was drawing from memory, and was maybe influenced by cartoons where the Charles Laughton character made several cameos.

Suddenly I’m in the mood for hossenpfeffer.

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The Most Movie-like Picture Book

I was burning my way through a pile of picture books trying to complete a challenge I set for myself at the start of the summer when I came across THE LISZTS by Kyo Maclear and Júlia Sardà. It reminded me that I meant to write about it on here.

When I watched Wes Anderson’s THE FRENCH DISPATCH last year one of my strongest impressions was that this was the most picture book-like movie I’d ever seen. That made me wonder what the most movie-like picture book is. THE LISZTS immediately to mind but now that I’m looking at it, I just think it’s the most Wes Anderson-like picture book. I mean…

It’s also got the LIFE AQUATIC soundtrack.

So, if THE LISZTS isn’t the most overall movie-like picture book, what is? I think some people might see a Jon Klassen connection in EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, ALL AT ONCE. It’s there, for sure, but maybe only in the rock scene.

And I’m not sure the inverse is true.

What do you think? What picture books feel cinematic to you?

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Three Cheers for the Chubby Cheeked Cherubim of the Cheeseburger Champ!

The book I was most looking forward to this year was Monica “ARE YOU A CHEESEBURGER?” Arnaldo’s MR. S.

Every bit of praise this book is getting is well deserved, but I’m feeling like all the attention is going to the big picture concept. Yes, the book is surprising and mind bending in all the best ways, and, yes, this might be the most real kindergarten in all of picture books, but I’m not sure anyone has written about just how good these kid characters are.

Monica Arnaldo’s work has always had a ton of appeal but these kids are next level. The kids (mostly) share a common silhouette, but each is so wonderfully distinct and distinctly wonderful. Look at these goobers!

The frizzy haired kid
The skeptic

The kid who looks like he stepped out of the 50s

And my favorite:

The “welp” kid

Skin, costume, expression, personality… there’s a masterclass covering those topics in this book. There’s also probably an essay concerning the tradition of drawing groups of kids in this way. I’m thinking of Mary Blair and her concept work for Disney’s IT’S A SMALL WORLD. Maybe another day.

For now, other ways this books is outstanding:

Self-inserts
Actual kid art. I don’t care how good an artist you are, you just can’t fake this.

And then, of course, there’s the endpapers. But I’m not going to spoil that for you. Go out and buy this book. It’s incredible.

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Oh, To Be a Gnome Living Underground, Grinding Colors Out of Crystals

In one of those moments of synchronicity, Fuse Eight and Kate covered THE RAINBOW GOBLINS in their most recent podcast. What’s the coincidence? Well, I was wrestling with colors today (I’m preparing some large sheets of paper to use in collage illustrations, a technique you’d be most familiar with in Eric Carle’s work) and, like the goblins in the story, found myself elbow deep in acrylics and ethical dilemmas.

blarg

Acrylics are a plastic-based paint and their use releases microplastics into the environment. I don’t use acrylics often, but when I do, I try to keep my water waste to a minimum. I don’t use paint palettes, I use scraps of cardboard or old paper plates that I let dry and then throw away. I use pretty cheap brushes and don’t make an effort to rinse them perfectly clean but nevertheless, when I do run them under the tap, I see rivers of paint pigment, each a constellation of nano-scale plastic particles, swirling down the drain. It’s not a good feeling.

Some of the papers I painted today. The hammer is totally necessary to my process.

The papers, I like those. When the color and pattern come together in a pleasing arrangement, anyway. I could maybe scan them, and then use and reuse them in digital compositions. I don’t know, that doesn’t really excite me. If you’ve seen any one of my donut process videos, you’ll notice I draw on the fly with an x-acto knife. I’m not sure how I’d translate that onto an ipad.

I guess the best I can do is mitigate the amount of harmful byproducts working in this style creates. I’ve started using disposable brushes (which come as a bundle wrapped in plastic) so I can stop washing them all together. They’ll eventually wind up in a landfill which, granted, is only marginally better but it keeps me from worrying about microplastics in our water. The ones I put there, anyway.

You might be wondering what in the Rien Poortvliet I was talking about up in the post title about gnomes living underground. It’s this:

Now those guys knew how to make some eco-friendly paints. I’ve always wondered if Ul de Rico could have been inspired by this cartoon. I seriously doubt it. But then again, I think it was Italian film director Bernardo Bertolucci who said the “Baby Mine” sequence in Disney’s DUMBO was one of the greatest scenes in all of cinema, rivalling in beauty the works of Michelangelo (citation needed).

UPDATE: TikTok to the rescue. Turns out there’s another microplastic mitigation technique.

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These Books Kill Fascists

I picked up this book last week.

It’s an illustrated adaptation of Snyder’s ON TYRANNY: TWENTY LESSONS FROM THE TWENTIETH CENTURY and I’m thinking it should be required reading in middle school. We’re living in worrying times and in children’s books specifically, we’re in pretty dark territory. At a time when you think you’d want kids to have all the information they can have to navigate life, book banning has gone off the charts. The American Library Association reports that there were 1,269 attempted bans in 2022 (a 74% increase over 2021). I’ll admit I don’t know enough to know what happens behinds the scenes at publishing houses when the industry is faced with such a huge number of bans. In a time like this, do publishers shy away from controversial books? Do they capitulate (eg. Texas textbooks)? Or do they double down?

I would hope publishers would double down. Books are always a product of their time—the Environmental movement produced books like Bill Peet’s THE WUMP WORLD (1970) and Dr. Seuss’ THE LORAX (1971)—and in times like these I would love to see more books that straight up call out fascism. This made me wonder what picture books exist that could be called anti-fascist. I looked through my collection to see what I could find.

YERTLE THE TURTLE AND OTHER STORIES by Dr. Seuss (1958)

There’s Yertle, of course, the turtle tyrant who’s unseated by a burping commoner. Seuss did a number of anti-fascist editorial cartoons so his politics are pretty clear even without a Hitler mustache on Yertle (which, apparently, existed in an early draft).

THE BOMB AND THE GENERAL by Umberto Eco and Euginio Carmi (1989)

This book is probably more anti-war (or anti-bomb, if you consider the date) than anti-fascist, but the General in the story gets a comeuppance like Yertle. Maybe a 2/5 on the anti-fascist scale I just made up.

LOUIS I KING OF THE SHEEP by Olivier Tallec (2015)

Tallec’s LOUIS I KING OF THE SHEEP is definitely more anti-fascist. I mean:

It’s a mere gust of wind that brings about Louis’ downfall, not an uprising of oppressed sheep (or even just one burping sheep). The story shows that fascist rule can be fleeting, which is a comfort, but it also ends on a dark note. The crown lands on a wolf, who approaches the herd in the final spread. Lesson: don’t normalize fascist rule, even if it’s just a sheep with delusions of grandeur.

NOODLEPHANT (2019) and OKAPI TALE (2020) by Jacob Kramer and K-Fai Steele

These two! NOODLEPHANT is abolitionist, OKAPI tale is anti-capitalist, but both have elements of anti-fascism. The fascists, in this case, are kangaroos who consider themselves a special class of citizen in Rooville. At the end of NOODLEPHANT, the ruling kangaroos’ book of laws is turned into a tray of lasagna which is shared with all the citizens of the town. The kangaroos are are welcomed in good faith into the animals’ new utopia and they seem content enough (it’s a really good lasagna*). But the happy ending is short lived. OKAPI TALE opens with the kangaroos missing their privilege and collaborating with an okapi(talist) to reestablish their rule.

LOUIS I KING OF THE SHEEP tells us fascism is fleeting, NOODLEPHANT and OKAPI TALE tell us it’s freedom that’s fleeting.

*side note: I read NOODLEPHANT to several second grade classrooms a few years back and WITHOUT FAIL a couple kids would say “Mr. Jerrold, I’m hungry” after the description of Noodlephant’s special lasagna. The book had the same effect on me. Every. Damn. Time. Speaking of food:

ALICE’S RESTAURANT by Arlo Guthrie and Marvin Glass (1966)

This is definitely one of the more anti-fascist books I have in my collection. Granted, it isn’t really a kid’s picture book (just look at that cover), but except for some explicit language, it works like one.

What makes ALICE’S RESTAURANT so anti-fascist? Well, it describes the dangers of living in a police state, under the expectations and demands of an arbitrarily violent government.

The bureaucracy in the story is dehumanizing and is so familiar that it barely feels like satire. Thankfully, ALICE’S RESTAURANT does prescribe a salvation from fascism: get friends, get naked and dance your way out of it.

And finally, the last book:

KEEDLE, THE GREAT by Deirdre and William Conselman, Jr and Fred L. Fox adapted by Jack Zipes (2020)

KEEDLE, THE GREAT is a recent adaptation of a book written about 80 years ago. From the book’s notes:

In 1940, two young people decided to publish a strange book with the title Keedle to give Americans hope that the world can overcome dictatorships. To them, Keedle represented more than Hitler. Indeed, he represented all the dictators in the world then and now. This book is a reminder that we have always ridiculed authoritarian regimes. When we keep the power to laugh in their faces, the bullies will shrink away as we retain our integrity and humanity.

In the story, a little sociopath named Keedle rises to greater and greater power until the world decides to laugh at him. At which point:

He begins to grow smaller:

Until he can be squished like a flea:

The message in Keedle: you have to take the threat of fascism seriously, but what you don’t have to do is treat a fascist with any kind of respect. Pow!

OTHER BOOKS

I suppose you could make the argument that any picture book with a subversive protagonist is antifascist and that kids, already tuned into an unjust world, will catch on. Maybe. But, personally, feeling more and more that kids are inheriting a much worse world than the one I grew up in, I’m kind of done with subtlety. I was watching HISTORY OF THE WORLD: PART II and Mel Brooks gets it right. In a skit about Hitler, the writers go to great lengths to remind you what a disgusting pile of shit Hitler was. It’s a lot harder to say “disgusting pile of shit” in a picture book, but maybe there’s a way to say book banners, climate deniers, transphobes and all those other bad actors who are hell bent on making our world worse with every passing day are, like fascists, extremely poopy.

I’ll hold on to the hope that publishers are presently making these antifascist books and look forward to them coming out in the near future. You know, before all libraries and public schools lose all their books and are shuttered permanently.

a group of children’s book authors and illustrators heading to the library

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The Cricket in Times… Rectangle?

On the topic of updating classic works (see James Marshall post) I wanted to talk about this one:

When I tell you I’m a big fan of THE CRICKET IN TIMES SQUARE, please believe me. I’m a big fan of THE CRICKET IN TIMES SQUARE. One of my prized kidlit possessions is a copy of the book (tenth printing, 1966) signed by George Selden.

I read it first as a student in Mrs. Boehlke’s third grade classroom at Jakarta International School and it made a big impression on me. The book painted New York as magical, of course, but it also cemented Connecticut as a place I desperately wanted to visit (never mind that I had access to coral reefs and rainforests in Indonesia, I wanted to see a bubbling brook in a Connecticut field). The descriptions of music left me tracking down the various overtures and arias that made up Chester’s repertoire and the animal’s feasts inspired a life-long love of liverwurst (it’s still one of my favorite sandwiches). Looking back, though, I wonder if what made me fall in love with the story was that it’s the first one I ever read where I saw myself in the protagonist. Like Mario, I was a lonely kid who loved animals.

me around the time I read the book

I don’t remember feeling any particular way about the representation of Sai Fong, the older Chinese gentleman who plays a part in several chapters, but I do recall finding having to swap the Ls and Rs in his dialogue a bit tedious (Selden swaps the letters in that familiar way, “Velly good” and “most honalable” etc). It’s tedious and annoying and, or course, insensitive. If the book has a saving grace, it’s that the Chinese characters are sympathetic. Sai Fong (and his friend, another Chinese gentleman) help Mario and Chester early in the story and then return towards the book’s end and get to share in Chester’s triumphant final concert.

The portrayal of Asian characters in THE CRICKET IN TIMES SQUARE isn’t BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY’S level obnoxious, far from it, but I would agree that the book (given its status as a perennial classic) could use an update. I was excited to learn last year that there was a revised and updated version in the works and, naturally, picked it up as quickly as I could.

I might have expected the only revision to be the removal of Sai Fong’s broken English but there are a few other changes. Sai Fong’s Emporium (a bric-a-brac and novelty store) is now a music shop, which makes sense given the themes of the book, but Chester, who is a natural musician is now referred to as first a fighting cricket and then a poet. The legend of Hsi Shuai is gone, I’m assuming this is because Selden’s version is probably not accurate or maybe it’s not his story tell. But if the book is updated and the revisions are credited to an Asian author, couldn’t you say that part of the story belongs to them? I’m not sure why the legend was removed, but I kind of miss it. I feel a bit of the magic is gone. It’s a tough assignment, keeping Chinatown an particularly unique destination (Mario, a born and bred New Yorker had never traveled there) without relegating it and Sai Fong to a “magical minority” role.

But I’m not writing about any of that. My concern with the reissue is that the book’s producers have completely messed up the art. I’m going to share some scans from the 1973 Dell Yearling edition (pictured on the left) and the 2022 revised and updated edition (pictured on the right). I’ve scanned then at the same resolution, how you see them is how they would look side by side.

1973 Dell Yearling edition
2022 revised edition

You’ll notice the original has a lot of blank space at the top and bottom of the page. The art in the new edition has been set to “stretch to fill” (a command that will have an image asset stretch vertically and horizontally to eliminate empty areas on the page) and as a result, the image is distorted. It’s not such a big deal if the object is stretching proportionally along both axes. But if you’re stretching a lot only in one direction, then you get something like this:

1973 Dell Yearling edition
2022 revised edition

Most of the images in the new edition have suffered some distortion but the majority are only scaled a little. The illustration of Chester, Harry and Tucker celebrating a farewell dinner (which also serves as the book’s cover) is scaled around 7% taller. I doubt most readers without a side-by-side would notice any difference.

1973 Dell Yearling edition
2022 revised edition

But the difference is there. I’ve overlaid them at the same scale so you can see how much it’s stretched (cyan lines added to show there’s no horizontal scaling).

Twelve years ago Phil Nel wrote about an updated version of James Marshall’s THE THREE LITTLE PIGS in a blog post titled Vandalizing James Marshall. Would I call this Vandalizing Garth Williams? I don’t know. Marshall’s book had its trim size changed to fit a mass market model. That was unfortunate (as was the use of Edmunds as the book’s new typeface). With the updated edition of THE CRICKET IN TIMES SQUARE, I feel like the art issue is carelessness more than anything. If the white space surrounding the art was a concern, the easiest fix would have been to fill it with those text descriptors you see in older chapter books. Something like this:

2022 edition, “corrected” image with subtitle added by Jerrold

Then again, I can’t help but think the illustrations were enlarged to target a younger audience. Maybe there’s a feeling third graders these days aren’t interested in reading about talking animals (ugh). If that’s the root of these art and layout changes, that would seem to be an editorial decision not in keeping with the book’s original intent and I’d be inclined to call it vandalism. If the revised edition goes into reprint, maybe they could return the art to its original aspect ratio. How do we make that happen?

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