Picture Book Review: Henry the Boy by Molly Felder

Henry the Boy
Author: Molly Felder
Illustrator: Nate Christopherson & Tara Sweeney
Penny Candy Books
2 March 2019
36 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (#1 Sticker Enthusiast at Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB superfan) John Herzog.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

The back cover text clues us in:“This is a story not about a heron or a robot or a chicken, but about me: Henry the boy.” Henry the Boy is indeed about Henry, told from his own perspective of being a kid who click-​click-​clicks around using forearm crutches decorated with animal stickers.

The sense of frustration Henry feels thanks to his physical challenge is apparent when he heads into the bathroom.

I looked into the mirror and
tried to stand straighter.

But I stood like me.

One of my crutches
slipped away.

And
Smack!

I fell.

But Henry has a friend–Joel–who accepts him for who he is and helps support him, whether it’s physically helping Henry up when he falls, or offering Henry a sponge dinosaur that Joel said was supposed to grow when submerged in water, but it didn’t. Henry loved the gift regardless of whether it did was it was supposed to do or not. Perhaps he loved it more for that fact.

Through all the challenges that one might expect the only kid at school with a mobility aid to face, Henry perseveres. And that’s what this book is about. It’s one kid’s story of perseverance, self-​reliance, and the power of the imagination.

Henry the Boy is a compelling book about a type of character we don’t often see in picture books. It doesn’t surprise me in the least to learn that author Molly Felder has cerebral palsy, and has a physical assistance dog, Patterson, that helps her by opening doors, turning lights on and off, “and much more.” It’s no wonder that this book resonates with an authenticity that gives the emotional texture readers want, but it also offers some welcome optimism, too, and not just because the pictures in the final few pages pop with brightness.

4.5 out of 5 pencils

 

–John’s Review of the Illustrations–

The term I would use to best describe the illustrations in Henry the Boy is an oxymoronic one: Precise sloppiness. Or, if you prefer, sloppy precision. To be clear, in no way do I mean that as a negative. On the contrary, the illustrations in Henry the Boy complement the story and subject matter extraordinarily well.

From the beginning when we’re introduced to Henry, we get a very strong sense of the eclectic and endearing style of the book. Backgrounds are rendered in bright, unwieldy watercolors while the characters are outlined in ink and filled in with light pencil and even lighter watercolor wash. This stark contrast not only helps bring focus to the characters, but it also makes the neon colors surrounding the characters that much brighter. There’s such a tangible feeling to this book because of the use of traditional media, and it helps to connect us to Henry. It almost feels as if Henry himself is illustrating his story, helping us get a glimpse of how he views the world.

The illustrations here are messy but they’re not a mess. Everything that’s happening visually feels deliberate, in spite of the random stains and splotches that adorn most pages. This book is very much a commentary on what it can be like to have a disability, and how it feels to have no control over the world around you. It certainly makes Henry more sympathetic to the reader because of all the colorful chaos around him that he is unable to control.

My only criticism of the book–and it’s a minor issue–is the design of the characters/​animals. While they do provide contrast to the watercolor backgrounds, I think the execution could have been a little more precise. Henry is charming with his cowlick and the wave of thin hair draped over his forehead, but I feel all of the characters could have been cleaner and more appealing from a design standpoint.

But that’s a minor criticism of an otherwise wonderful marriage of words and images that is Henry the Boy. I’m excited to see what mother-​and-​son illustration team Tara Sweeney and Nate Christopherson do next.

4.5 out of 5 crayons


John Herzog is an illustrator and educator. His clients include Hasbro, Dreamworks TV, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, and Highlights for Children. He also teaches illustration classes at Ringling College of Art and Design.

 John is a member of the Society of Illustrators and SCBWI, and received the 2018 SCBWI Magazine Merit Award for his Highlights High Five cover illustration. He lives in Florida with his wife, two kids, a pair of tarantulas, a bearded dragon, and a fish.

 He is represented by Shannon Associates.

Picture Book Review: Hedy & Her Amazing Invention by Jan Wahl

Author: Jan Wahl
Illustrator: Morgana Wallace
5 February 2019
36 pages
This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (#1 Invention User at Only Picture Books) and and Florida-​based author/​illustrator Linda Shute.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

This grade school level picture book biography tells the story of Hollywood actress and inventor, Hedy Keisler, who later became Hedy Lamarr.

While this book is longer than most picture books I run across at OPB–not just the 36 vs. 32 pages, but also because it has chapters!–it never feels like it’s too much. Partially that’s due to the simple sentence structure and a straightforward style.

But almost everybody could go to the movies. A ticket only cost a few coins.

The story flows chronologically, beginning in Hedy’s childhood years of poverty in Austria, then moving ahead to her work as an actress, her initial attempts at creating inventions, and then her failed marriage to an older man that led to her decision to help the Allies in World War II. And all of this happened while growing her career as a Hollywood star.

Though most didn’t know that Hedy harbored a deep interest in inventions, she continued to research and create new things throughout her life. A new Kleenex box. A dog collar that lights up in the dark (so lost pets can be found more easily). A better traffic light.

But her most famous invention emerged after she learned how Nazi submarines were sinking British ships in World War II, and then jamming the radio signals so the British couldn’t return fire with their radio-​controlled torpedoes. In response, Hedy came up with the idea for frequency-​hopping (also called “spectrum spread”), a technique that’s still used widely today in a variety of items, including fax machines, cell phones, and wireless technologies. It’s no surprise that her birthday–November 9th–is now known as Inventor’s Day!

While there’s a sense that the challenges in Hedy’s personal and professional life stemmed from society’s now-​antiquated views on women, that avenue isn’t explored in as much depth as some of today’s readers might choose. Yet without a doubt, Hedy is an intriguing character with spunk, wit, and a profound commitment to helping others.

A brief Author’s Note in the back of the book shares the author’s three memorable personal anecdotes about Hedy.

4 out of 5 pencils

OPB Sidenote: Readers who want a picture book biography on Hedy that’s targeted at a younger audience might try Hedy Lamarr’s Double Life: Hollywood Legend and Brilliant Inventor, which is releasing on the same day as this Penny Candy Books title.

 

–Linda’s Review of the Illustrations–

When the reader cracks open the pages of Hedy, she will discover sophisticated, rich, secondary colors–notes that fall between the bright primary tones of books for younger audiences. The content is clearly defined, yet couched in the mystery of deep hues set against dark backdrops.

Illustrator Morgana Wallace’s medium is cut paper. She paints the pieces engagingly, modeling faces, costumes, and other details. The paper elements cast a soft drop shadow, giving a subtle 3‑D vibe.

An Art Deco san serif font is used for titles and chapter heads. Pages of text face single spread pictures. Occasionally, humorous vignettes break the type page.

Starting with Lamarr’s Viennese childhood, clothing reflects the times. Just so they grasp the glamour and glitter of her primary career, readers are given one full-​length image of Hedy in a lavish Hollywood costume. Her figure is reminiscent of 1940s and 50s fashion drawings–clean edged and dramatically posed with pensive expressions. Hedy’s profile is all 1940s starlet–pouty lips, arched brow, disengaged gaze.

The young reader should close the book with a feeling of having visited an exciting past era, yet one that is relatable and connects with ours.

5 out of 5 crayons



Linda Shute is an author/​illustrator who earned a degree in art and art history at Florida State University and taught children’s book illustration at Ringling College of Art and Design.
She loves peanuts and beach sunsets.

Picture Book Review: Small Walt and Mo the Tow

Small Walt and Mo the Tow
Author: Elizabeth Verdick
Illustrator: Marc Rosenthal
Simon & Schuster/​Paula Wiseman Books
30 October 2018
40 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (#1 snowplow aficionado at Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and frequent OPB helper-​outter) David C. Gardner.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

Small Walt and Mo the Tow is the sequel to the 2017 book Small Walt, which was a delight. This new title has a simple plot–a “bitter blizzard” has come so Gus (the driver) and Walt are off to clear the roads with “a big load of ice-​melting salt.” When a little green car slides off a forest road and FWUMPs into a ditch, Walt wants to use his scoop to save the day, but Gus says, “Now, now. Plows only scoop snow.”

It’s Mo the Tow to the rescue, along with Mo’s driver Sue, who wears a bright blue coat. Only Mo’s tires can’t get a grip of the slick ice, so Walt does his part to plow the snow and use his spreader to drop salt with a “switch-​twist, switch-​twist.” And from that moment on, new friendships are made, and the little green car is rescued at last.

The vehicles have a good deal of personality, which is certainly part of the fun. Yet what young readers might respond best to is the attention to sound, both in the alliteration (“swish the slush” etc.) as well as the many instances of onomatopoeia (“Whumpa-​thumpa-​bumpa-​bump!” and “Rugga-​brum-​brum, HUMMAROOOM!”).

This is a sweet story of friendship and kindness. If you liked Small Walt, then this sequel likely won’t disappoint you.

4 out of 5 pencils

David’s Review of the Illustrations–

This sequel starts with a long view of the town, like a child’s eye view of a toy village, then the pictures swoop in to immerse us in the action. And it is all action, essentially a narrative of pulling a stuck car out of the snow. 

Rosenthal’s pictures border on crude, done in what looks to be heavy-​colored pencil or thick crayon. (I will confess I have always been skeptical of the notion that children want to look at pictures that look like something they might create themselves.) Rosenthal’s simple illustrations for the Small Walt books have been rightly compared to Virginia Lee Burton’s classic books like The Little House (1942), Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel (1939), and especially Katy and the Big Snow (1943), and they do share that childlike quality and charm. Burton worked in this medium too, but her work was more refined, like fine miniatures, starting with soft watercolor washes, then layering in colored pencil with attention to tiny details.

The looseness here is not necessarily a weakness, though; it gives the book a contemporary feel. Rosenthal has a wide-​ranging portfolio as an illustrator for magazines, advertising, and books, and his style consistently pays homage to illustration styles of the past, always with a clever twist so that we never forget his work is of-the-moment.

And this book is no different.

Rosenthal is, in a sense, playing jazz, not Beethoven. That freshness helps to convey the immediacy of the story for its very young audience. The illustrations also amp up the charm considerably, giving the book a hip coolness without being cynical, and never tipping over in the other direction into easy, sappy cuteness.

3 out of 5 crayons


David C. Gardner is an award-​winning illustrator and visual development artist. A former artist for Walt Disney Animation Studios, he has illustrated numerous picture books, including his latest from Sleeping Bear Press, Write On, Irving Berlin! by Leslie Kimmelman (which appeared on OPB not so long ago). It tells the true story of little Izzy Baline, who immigrated to New York City in 1893 and grew up to become Irving Berlin, one of the most well-​known composers of popular music in America. David teaches illustration at Ringling College of Art and Design.

To learn more about his work, please visit FlyingDogStudio.com.

Picture Book Review: Gittel’s Journey: An Ellis Island Story by Lesléa Newman

Gittel’s Journey: An Ellis Island Story
Author: Lesléa Newman
Illustrator: Amy June Bates
Abrams Books for Young Readers
5 February 2019
48 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (Top journey-​taker at Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB pal) John Herzog.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

Gittel’s Journey tells the story–based on a pair of oral tales from the author’s family–of a nine-​year-​old girl being sent to America in the latter part of the 19th century while her mother has to stay behind because of an eye infection. Along the lengthy journey, the address on a piece of paper becomes smudged, so poor Gittel doesn’t know where to go when she arrives. I’ll hold off on revealing the ending but suffice to say, it’s both heartfelt and glorious.

Gittel’s Journey is one of those books that–even without the back matter–runs closer to 1,000 words than the 300 that so many literary agents and editors claim is the new norm. But the story necessitates it. And never did I have that somewhat common thought as I read: “Wow, this feels looooooong.”

That extra space allows for Newman to offer quiet moments of delicious sensory detail such as Gittel grabbing onto the ship’s “cold, wet railing” or how when she finally arrives at Ellis Island, the “ocean spray smacked Gittel in the face, and when she licked her lips, she tasted salt.” It also allows the the room for this story to unfold with the quiet tenderness it deserves. Nothing feels rushed.

Newman’s skill with language is also on full display with how she weaves in Yiddish words (always italicized) throughout the story. The context of those words give more than enough clues as to their meanings so not knowing Yiddish isn’t an issue.

The extensive Author’s Note, bibliography, and short glossary all add to the story and provide more interesting context to the immigrant experience as well.

This is a terrific book with spot-​on illustrations (see below for John’s glowing review on that aspect) that brings social issues into the realm of picture books in an effective, memorable way. It’s a fine, fine book worthy of your bookshelf space.

4.75 out of 5 pencils

 

–John’s Review of the Illustrations–

In today’s political and social climate in our great American experiment, we need a book like Gittel’s Journey. We need it to remind us of our past, where we come from, and why we’re here. We need it to remind us of the immense value of patience, kindness, and bravery. We need it to remind us of what made America truly great.

The story here is incredible, and based on the true events of a young girl who travels to America alone in search of a better life–without the use of a smart phone or GPS (terrifying). An amazing story like this requires amazing illustrations, and the work by Amy June Bates does not disappoint. In fact, it stands toe-​to-​toe with the story and–dare I say–elevates the book to a whole new level.

In a sea of muted browns and grays, little Gittel stands out with her red hood, pink apron, and bright green bag. We know this is her story. The progression of color throughout the book is breathtaking, helping guide is from that which is familiar to that which is not and back again. Gittel’s home country is depicted in very warm, inviting tones while her journey is very muted, cold and drab. Thankfully, the warm tones return at the end as Gittel’s cousin meets her for the first time, and into the final page when Gittel is reunited with her mother. It’s this mastery of color progression that makes us care about the safety of Gittel, and relieved when she is reunited with family.

The print quality of this book is exquisite. I love that tinted paper was used–a nod to a time long past. The whites used in the illustrations really pop against the colored paper, and helps create contrast and appealing movement in the images. The sketchy figures, the watercolor, the stamp-​like borders and filigree–all of it transports me back to what I would imagine this time period was like, yet fuzzied and faded by time.

This is an important book, both for children and adults. As Americans, we seem to have such a short memory when it comes to how important immigrants are to this country. It’s books like this that help us remember that, and what this country should stand for:

The Statue of Liberty,” said a man standing beside Gittel, as he
waved his cap in the air and wept. “She’s welcoming us to America.”

Gittel’s Journey is a masterpiece.

5 out of 5 crayons


John Herzog is an illustrator and educator. His clients include, Hasbro, James Patterson, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, and Highlights for Children. He also teaches illustration classes at Ringling College of Art and Design. He lives in Florida with his wife, two kids, a pair of tarantulas, a bearded dragon, and a fish.
 

Picture Book Review: Nature’s Friend: The Gwen Frostic Story by Lindsey McDivitt

Nature’s Friend: The Gwen Frostic Story
Author: Lindsey McDivitt
Illustrator: Eileen Ryan Ewen
Sleeping Bear Press
4 August 2018
32 pages

 

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (#1 “Friend of the Trees” at Only Picture Books) and and Florida-​based author/​illustrator Linda Shute.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

It’s always wonderful to read picture book texts where the author has a poetic sensibility about sound, as one can hear in “like a small fawn follows its herd,” which is how McDivitt describes Gwen’s relationship to her brothers and sisters. You hear it again with this line: “tiny town tucked into the thumb of Michigan.” While there are other instances of this type of attention to language, my favorite might well be “tiny ferns unfurled at her feet.” It’s clear early on that McDivitt is trying to create an image system from the natural world to prepare readers for Gwen’s later work as lover of nature.

Nature’s Friend shares Gwen’s entire life trajectory–all nine decades of it. She went from being a sickly child to a prominent businesswoman, successful artist, and environmental pioneer. She was so successful, in fact, that she left an estate of $13 million to Western Michigan University, which renamed its art school in her honor. While Gwen started off with clear physical challenges, she simply never saw herself as disabled. That’s an important message for young readers, to be sure.

Gwen’s life is so full of interesting things that trying to capture it all in a single book feels a bit like one of those Dagwood sandwiches–short of being a comic character with a jaw that can unhinge, there’s no way to quite get your mouth around all that deliciousness.

One of the nice touches in this book is how quotations by Gwen are occasionally included in soft blue letters at the bottom of the page. While some might include such quotations as back matter, these each seen specifically selected for the spread where they’re used. That’s a fine touch.

There’s even a craft project at the end of the book, along with additional back matter about Gwen’s life.

This is an empowering book about a truly noteworthy, admirable woman.

4.25 out of 5 pencils

–Linda’s Review of the Illustrations–

On the jacket of Nature’s Friend, dark tree trunks and limbs frame an alert turn-​of-​the century young Gwen sketching in a north woods glade. Artist Ewen draws us through the frame with a cast of half-​concealed wildlife friends in the greenery surrounding Gwen.

The watercolor color and line medium, warm colors, and intimate viewpoint lend a confident, cheerful mood to the mile marker scenes of Gwen’s life. A large page size, with widely line-​spaced blocks of text on generous white fields are inviting for the six to eight year old transitioning to independent reading. Many spreads feature Frostic quotes in a tall font that suggests hand lettering. Their sky blue tint prevents them from competing visually with the story text blocks, but beckons the reader to return and contemplate Gwen’s words. They soften and add interest to the generally airy page design.

We linger looking at Gwen’s early years long enough for the reader to identify with her, then sweep forward through her life watching her mature, her clothing and hair interestingly reflecting styles of the passing decades. The interior settings–her childhood classroom and home, Chicago trolley and print business, woodsy gift shop and sitting room–are well described, lending the story authenticity. For the outdoor scenes, the artist relies heavily on the less realistic and more decorative style used on the jacket.

Gwen’s physical handicaps are difficult to detect in the pictures. What is clearly shown is her spirit, determination, and resourcefulness, which leave an afterglow of optimism and peace.

4 out of 5 crayons



Linda Shute is an author/​illustrator who earned a degree in art and art history at Florida State University and taught children’s book illustration at Ringling College of Art and Design.
She loves peanuts and beach sunsets.

Picture Book Review: The Rabbit Listened by Cori Doerrfeld

 

The Rabbit Listened
Author: Cori Doerrfeld
Illustrator: Cori Doerrfeld
Bloomsbury Children’s Books
20 February 2018
40 pages

 


This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (Top Rabbit at Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB champion) John Herzog.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

While this is a quiet book in many ways, the story starts with a disaster–birds knock down Taylor’s super-​tall, super-​cool block tower. In response, animal after animal arrives, with each acting in ways that match their animal nature. The chicken? It clucks away endlessly. The bear? It wants to roar and be mad. The snake? Revenge! But none of these interactions prove useful to Taylor, so each animal eventually wanders off. They all are more or less well-​intentioned, but they are more concerned with their solutions than thinking about what–if anything–Taylor needs.

It’s only the rabbit that doesn’t try to impose its natural response to the situation. It simply listens and is present, moving closer until “Taylor could feel its warm body.” This allows the child–half of the reviewers claim it’s a he, and half say Taylor is 100% gender neutral–to have their own range of reactions. Given the chance to respond as Taylor chooses, Taylor’s able to move past the many emotions (laughing, shouting, etc.) and can finally build once again.

Some readers will surely want to play up the animal voices to good effect when reading The Rabbit Listened to a child. The pacing of this story, too, lends itself well to reading aloud.

Will some readers find the message too straightforward or didactic? Perhaps. But it’s a sweet, simple story that teaches empathy, and that’s a lesson parents like myself wish were included in more picture books.

4 out of 5 pencils

–John’s Review of the Illustrations–

I’m really torn when it comes to The Rabbit Listened. No doubt Cori Doerrfeld has crafted an interesting take on what is essentially the five stages of grief. From an illustration standpoint, however, I feel there were a few missed opportunities.

For example, Taylor–our protagonist–is visited by all kinds of animals. We see them with Taylor in various spot illustrations that are organized just so on the page. On the far side of one spread, we see the animals walking away from Taylor, who’s on the opposite side. It’s adequate, I suppose, but we never truly get a sense of the crowd. We never get an image of all the animals overshadowing Taylor, enhancing and illustrating that overwhelming feeling of isolation. We get a great image of the bear doing that, but it would’ve felt much more powerful if all of the animals were there looking down at us.

Honestly, a little disorganization would’ve tremendously helped the first half of this book. Animals! Animals everywhere! Spouting advice and nonsense! It would’ve made the quieter scenes with the rabbit during the second half all the more endearing, providing some much-​needed contrast from the animal madness. Instead, the illustrations just feel a bit flat and somewhat sparse.

The strongest aspect of this book is the design of the main character. It’s very clear that Taylor is who we should be rooting for with their fun, messy hair and rounded features. The rabbit is fluffy and cute, of course, but feels a bit stock. The rest of the animals are designed somewhat grotesquely to emphasize Taylor’s ambivalence and aversion to their advice, I imagine. Yet from my perspective, these animals were only trying to help. Yes, they went about it in a bombastic way, but that doesn’t make them monsters. I wish they were softened up a bit, if anything to reinforce the idea that loved ones who suggest action in times of turmoil are only trying to help.

Perhaps I’m reading a bit too much into it.

I definitely like that we don’t have much of a sense of place and time, and I absolutely love the final image where we see Taylor’s vision of their next big building venture. And please don’t get me wrong–it’s important to listen in a situation like this. And Taylor eventually accepts what happened and moves on, which is nice and quite appropriate. For me, however, The Rabbit Listened perhaps aspires to be greater and deeper than it actually is.

3 out of 5 crayons


John Herzog is an illustrator and educator. His clients include Hasbro, James Patterson, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, and Highlights for Children. He also teaches illustration classes at Ringling College of Art and Design. He lives in Florida with his wife, two kids, a pair of tarantulas, a bearded dragon, and a fish.