15 minute read
INTERVIEW: COREY R. TABOR
AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT Corey R. Tabor
Mandy Olson
Corey R. Tabor is the author and illustrator of numerous picture books for children, including Fox the Tiger, winner of the American Library Association’s Theodor Seuss Geisel Award. His latest work is Mel Fell (Balzer + Bray/ HarperCollins, Feb. 2), about a fledgling who isn’t quite ready to fly; in a starred review Kirkus said it “encourages children to feel brave, to try, and to believe they can soar.” Tabor answered some questions via email.
What inspired you to create this book? I had the idea a few years ago when I was sitting on a bench by a lake. I was looking up at a tall tree, wondering about all the animals who live there and what they might be up to. That got me thinking about how it would be fun to make a book that opens vertically and takes you up and down the tree as you turn the pages. On each spread you’d see a different animal who lives in the tree. I realized I needed a character who would take the reader up and down the tree, and that’s how Mel arrived, boldly leaping from her nest.
What was it like having a book come out in 2021? How did you connect with children in this socially distanced year? It was certainly different. When publication day came, I knew that, theoretically, my book was out there in the world. But bookstores and libraries were still closed, and it was quite a while before I finally got to see Mel Fell on a shelf. (Not too long ago, when our local library reopened, I was shocked to realize I hadn’t set foot in one in over a year! That was a gut punch for sure.) But I’ve received all kinds of wonderful emails, and even some physical letters, from readers young and old. The connections have all been of the pen-pal variety this year.
Who is the ideal reader for your book, and where would they be reading it? In my (completely unbiased) opinion, you are never too old or young for a good picture book. I think a tree fort would be a fun place to read Mel Fell. Or snuggled up on a comfy couch. Or at the best place in the world: the public library.
It’s story hour at the library. If you could have anyone in the world present your book to the kids, who would it be? I think I’d have to leave the job to the experts. Nobody does a picture book justice like a teacher or a children’s librarian. (I’m pretty sure the kids wouldn’t be impressed with whatever celebrity I came up with anyway.)
What children’s book most dazzled you this year? I loved Lynne Rae Perkins’ The Museum of Everything the first (and second, and third, and 13th) time I read it. The writing feels like it speaks directly to me, and the art is intriguing. (I can’t imagine how much time went into the illustrations.) My 3-year-old loves it, too. We brought the book along on an 18-hour road trip, and you wouldn’t believe how many of those hours he spent poring over this book. I also loved On the Day the Horse Got Out by Audrey Helen Weber (a great title and a great book), The Little Wooden Robot and the Log Princess by Tom Gauld (so good), and A Home Under the Stars by Andy Chou Musser (literally dazzling, with all those stars).
Interview by Tom Beer.
bodies are cool
BODIES ARE COOL
Feder, Tyler Dial Books (32 pp.) $17.99 | June 1, 2021 978-0-593-11262-5
A bustling celebration of body positivity that lovingly features bodies, skin, and hair of all kinds.
“Big bodies, small bodies / dancing, playing, happy bodies! / Look at all these different bodies! / Bodies are cool!” begins this engaging picture book, extolling the variety and splendor of human bodies in gentle, singsong text. With shared public spaces as the backdrop of her full-bleed spreads—and a refreshing lack of fanfare—author/illustrator Feder depicts people of many races, genders, disabilities, and physical attributes enjoying one another’s company, emphasizing connection rather than explanation. Whether riding a crowded bus, painting a community mural, or playing in a public park, no individual’s body is on particular display. Instead, young readers are able to people-watch through the pages, observing difference within the context of community. Most notably, Feder chooses clear and unapologetic language to describe body characteristics, challenging the negative connotations that are often attached to those bodies. Though the illustrations are a bit jam-packed, their richness and detail easily make up for the busy feel. Perfect for read-alouds, this offering shows young readers that vitiligo, assistive equipment, scars (including those denoting gender transition), fatness, dark skin, and textured hair (among many other features) all belong. Expanding visually beyond her celebration of the body, Feder also takes care to include queer families and characters wearing headscarves and turbans as well.
Depicting societally marginalized human bodies in all
their joyful, normal glory, this book is cool. (Picture book. 3-10)
WE ALL PLAY kimêtawânaw
Flett, Julie Greystone Kids (40 pp.) $17.95 | May 25, 2021 978-1-77164-607-9
Everyone loves to play! Award-winning author/illustrator Flett shares the joyful antics of young animals as they romp in much the same way as human children.
The rhythmic text offers both rich vocabulary and a pageturning chant. Woodland animals “hide and hop / and sniff and sneak” while Indigenous children, depicted in differing shades of brown, run, skip, jump, and hunt for butterflies. “We play too! kimêtawânaw mîna,” they proclaim in the refrain. Aquatic animals “swim and squirt / and bubble and bend” while children swim under the water and float on its surface, in inner tubes. On the prairie, snakes “slip and slide” through the grass while buffalo “rumble and roll.” And bears “wiggle and wobble” as both they and children play (in separate double-page spreads) in the snow. At last, “side by side, animals fall asleep,” and after a day full of fun, “we do too. nîstanân mîna.” The animals are not named within the primary text, leaving it to readers to identify the hopping bunnies, the spouting beluga whale calves, and the yawning wolf pups. Flett’s characteristically minimalist compositions are deceptively simple. Readers who slow down to look will be charmed by the cricket that hops in tandem with a rabbit and the fox that stares in bemusement at a turtle. This celebration of nature is sprinkled with words from the Cree language, and a closing glossary provides both Cree and English names of the animals depicted; a note provides guidance on Cree pronunciation for readers not familiar with the language.
Simple text and bold, graphic illustrations celebrate our interconnection with the creatures who share our world.
(author’s note) (Picture book. 3-7)
THE BIG BAD WOLF IN MY HOUSE
Fontaine, Valérie Illus. by Nathalie Dion Trans. by Shelley Tanaka Groundwood (32 pp.) $18.95 | March 2, 2021 978-1-77306-501-4
A fablelike telling of domestic violence. The story starts abruptly. “He didn’t need to huff, or puff or blow the house down”; a tall, brown, bipedal wolf strides into the home of a White, blond woman and her dark-haired White child. While “he batted his eyelashes and purred like a pussycat in front of my mother,” in the next spread he’s glancing back at the narrator “with cold eyes and sharp teeth.” The abuse escalates from shouting at the mother when she’s late through throwing a plate to leaving “finger marks on my arm.” Artfully harking back to an old tale, the child frets that “the blankets jumbled up around my head did not protect me any more than a pile of straw,” and the bedroom door, “a barrier made of wood,” was no protection; the only recourse is to build “a fort made of bricks” and “put it up around my heart.” This story is intense but it is never gratuitous, and before long the mother gets them to a safe house. Some might worry about frightening children with an honest depiction of abuse, but, as the narrator acknowledges, this is only slightly darker than many fairy tales. More importantly, it provides some readers with a much-needed recognition of their experiences while for others it is an ageappropriate introduction to a crucial subject. Masterfully done. (Picture book. 5-8)
shaped by her hands
SHARKBLOCK
Franceschelli, Christopher Illus. by Peskimo Abrams Appleseed (84 pp.) $14.99 | May 4, 2021 978-1-4197-4119-7 Series: Block Books
Catering to young scientists, naturalists, and Shark Week fans–to-be, this visually arresting volume presents a good deal of information in easily digested bites.
Like others in the Block Books series, this book feels both compact and massive. When closed, it is 5.5 inches across, 6.5 inches tall, and nearly 2 inches thick, weighty and solid, with stiff cardboard pages that boast creative die cuts and numerous fold-out three- and four-panel tableaux. While it’s possible it’s not the only book with a dorsal fin, it certainly must be among the best. The multiracial cast of aquarium visitors includes a Sikh man with his kids and a man of color who uses a wheelchair; there they discover the dramatic degree of variations among sharks. The book begins with a trip to a shark exhibit, complete with a megalodon jaw. The text points out that there are over 400 known types of sharks alive today, then introduces 18 examples, including huge whale sharks, tiny pocket sharks, and stealthy, well-camouflaged wobbegongs. Reef sharks prowl the warm waters of the surface, while sand tiger sharks explore shipwrecks on the ocean floor. Bioluminescent catsharks reside at the bottom of an inky black flap that folds down, signifying the deepest ocean depths, where no sunlight penetrates. Great whites get star treatment with four consecutive twopage spreads; their teeth and appetite impress but don’t horrify. The book does a wonderful job of highlighting the interconnectedness of species and the importance of environmental stewardship.
Captivating—and not a bit terrifying. (Board book. 3-5)
SHAPED BY HER HANDS Potter Maria Martinez
Freeman, Anna Harber & Barbara Gonzales Illus. by Aphelandra Whitman (32 pp.) $16.99 | April 1, 2021 978-0-8075-7599-4 Series: She Made History
Born around 1887, Maria Martinez became one of the greatest Native artists of all time.
This story of a young girl from San Ildefonso Pueblo, near Santa Fe, New Mexico, celebrates the strong sense of culture and identity the Tewa people have maintained through the centuries. Intrigued by her people’s traditions, young Maria would rather fashion clay pots than play with straw dolls, but every time she makes one, it breaks apart while drying in the sun. Seeing her niece’s dedication, her aunt teaches Maria how to mix the clay with volcanic ash and water before coiling it between her hands to bake in an open fire. What evolves from these lessons is a young child’s sense of pride in her cultural history as well as the rediscovery of a technique long forgotten by her people. From New York to San Francisco, Maria becomes famous for her signature pottery style, making her name synonymous with excellence and value in the pottery world. Aphelandra, who has Oneida heritage, paints with the hues of the Rio Grande’s turquoise waters, orange pottery fires, pink sandstone sunsets, and the obsidian black clay of Maria’s pots; the result is earthy and elemental, containing the spirit of the New Mexican landscape. The characters are depicted in their traditional Tewa clothing and hairstyles, encompassing multiple generations of the artists’ family in a way that strikes upon the legacy she both received and left behind.
A deserved celebration of a famous Tewa potter who elevated her craft to fine art. (biographical note, historical note,
authors’ note, sources) (Picture book/biography. 4-8)
I AM ODD, I AM NEW
Giroux, Benjamin Illus. by Roz MacLean Schiffer (32 pp.) $16.99 | Sept. 28, 2021 978-0-7643-6241-5
An elementary-age kid tries to find a place in a world that makes him feel devastatingly different. Who belongs where? Who can belong? The narrator compares himself to those around him and feels isolated. Should he even try to fit in? He hears “noises in the air.” No one else seems to—why him? If he shrinks and hides away, will people stop laughing? Why can’t he be like the kids he sees walking past the window? Did he come from outer space? Buffeted by this feeling of oddness, he seems to find no answers until he realizes that he isn’t the only one—everyone is “odd and new,” and that is not such a bad thing. Written when the autistic author was 10, Giroux’s poetic exploration of being/ feeling different from the perspective of living on the spectrum brings to light that being neurodivergent is not the same as being broken or “less.” Being different is not an insurmountable obstacle to experiencing life but rather a gift to experience more. In metaphorical scenes that vary from spread to spread as they interpret the lines, MacLean’s soft-hued illustrations show the narrator, depicted as a bespectacled White kid, as apart yet a part of the world around him. The predominance of blues and purples emphasizes the sense of separateness. The foreword by the National Autism Association states: “No one has ever made a difference in the world by being the same.” (This book was reviewed digitally.)
Giroux expresses core truths through his insightful and
heartfelt poem. (Picture book. 5-10)
TWENTY-ONE STEPS Guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
Gottesfeld, Jeff Illus. by Matt Tavares Candlewick (32 pp.) $17.99 | Feb. 12, 2021 978-1-5362-0148-2
An up-close look at the sentinels who protect and honor America’s fallen.
“I am an Unknown. I am one of many.” Instantly personal, instantly heart-rending. The unnamed, unknown soldier in the tomb at Arlington National Cemetery tells this story. World War I took not only the lives of many, but, tragically, their identities as well. “Nameless and faceless” heroes were impossible to reunite with loved ones. Families were unable to properly mourn. In 1921, one soldier was chosen to represent the Unknowns. Gottesfeld’s text, spare and shining, gently gives the backstory. But it is the unexpected footsteps—21 to be exact— of the soldier who stands guard and 21 seconds of silence that resound loudly and purely. “With each step, my war was over.” Forearms are kept at 90-degree angles. Hat brims are two finger widths above the eye. The precision of dress and deliberate, smooth actions of the Tomb Guards emanate honor and respect, but the first-person narration shows a personal perspective. A 24-hour guard gives comfort and companionship. “From that moment, I have never been alone again.” Tavares’ magisterial art soars, awash in opposing forces: shadowed but luminous, soaked in both melancholy and reverence. All sentinels (“men and women of every race, religion, and creed”) take this honor seriously, expressed in the “Sentinel’s Creed” reproduced in the frontmatter. The fallen who have died nameless deserve the very best. This is it.
Impeccably honors its subject. (afterword) (Informational picture book. 5-10)
EYES THAT KISS IN THE CORNERS
Ho, Joanna Illus. by Dung Ho Harper/HarperCollins (40 pp.) $17.99 | Jan. 5, 2021 978-0-06-291562-7
A young Chinese American girl sees more than the shape of her eyes.
In this circular tale, the unnamed narrator observes that some peers have “eyes like sapphire lagoons / with lashes like lace trim on ballgowns,” but her eyes are different. She “has eyes that kiss in the corners and glow like warm tea.” Author Ho’s lyrical narrative goes on to reveal how the girl’s eyes are like those of other women and girls in her family, expounding on how each pair of eyes looks and what they convey. Mama’s “eyes sparkl[e] like starlight,” telling the narrator, “I’m a miracle. / In those moments when she’s all mine.” Mama’s eyes, the girl observes, take after Amah’s. While she notes that her grandmother’s eyes “don’t work like they used to,” they are able to see “all the way into my heart” and tell her stories. Here, illustrator Ho’s spreads bloom with references to Chinese stories and landscapes. Amah’s eyes are like those of the narrator’s little sister. Mei-Mei’s eyes are filled with hope and with admiration for her sister. Illustrator Ho’s textured cartoons and clever use of light and shadow exude warmth and whimsy that match the evocative text. When the narrator comes to describe her own eyes and acknowledges the power they hold, she is posed against swirling patterns, figures, and swaths of breathtaking landscapes from Chinese culture. (This book was reviewed digitally.)
This tale of self-acceptance and respect for one’s roots is
breathtaking. (Picture book. 5-9)
THE LOST PACKAGE
Ho, Richard Illus. by Jessica Lanan Roaring Brook Press (40 pp.) $18.99 | March 2, 2021 978-1-250-23135-2
A lost package finally arrives where it was intended to go.
An elementary-age New Yorker sends a gift to a friend in the Bay Area. Ho and Lanan skillfully describe and depict, respectively, the procedures of the U.S. Postal Service as the box begins to make its way to its destination. Alas, a pothole in the road to the airport causes the box to fall out of the truck. It lands in a puddle and is ignored until another kid finally spies it. Curious, the child picks it up, noting not only the recipient’s address, but also a drawing of the Golden Gate Bridge that the sender inked on it. Luckily, the box’s finder is moving to that place along with mom and dog! Guess what they’ll personally deliver when they get there? So the USPS doesn’t deliver the box, but this family does—and makes new friends. This sweetly simple, understated story is emotionally rich, a warm paean to the power of connections. Ho’s text places the box as its protagonist, giving Lanan ample space to develop the story around it. Her delicate watercolor illustrations provide clues to both cities, though interpretation requires sharp eyes and some prior knowledge (or a helpful caregiver). Engaging perspectives and effective uses of type add drama. The box’s sender and recipient both present Asian; the intervening kid and mom present Black. An afterword describes the author’s family’s moving connection to the U.S. Post Office. (This book was reviewed digitally.)
Quietly, beautifully told and deeply satisfying. (Picture book.
4-7)
