Tag: David C. Gardner

Picture Book Review: José Feeds the World by David Unger, illustrations by Marta Álvarez Miguéns

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews

José Feeds the World
Author: David Unger
Illustrator: Marta Álvarez Miguéns
duopress
30 January 2024
40 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (Owner/​Operator of Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB pal) David C. Gardner.

 

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

I’m always interested in the behind-​the-​scenes story of a real-​world hero’s life, and that’s what this book promises to deliver, being pitched this way: “The true story of José Andrés, an award-​winning chef, food activist, and founder of World Central Kitchen, a disaster-​relief organization that uses the power of food to nourish communities after catastrophe strikes.”

To tackle that big task, author David Unger tells the entire trajectory of José’s life, beginning with him as a child who learns to help others after witnessing his parents do that very thing in their jobs as nurses in Spain. They also loved to cook, and the kitchen soon became José’s favorite room in the house. This is where readers begin to get both the flavors of food (“the smell of rice, saffron, chicken, and sausage floating in the air”) and the sound of the Spanish language (cocina, paella, etc.) directly in the text.

José attends a Barcelona cooking school at 15 and becomes a chef’s assistant and a world-​famous restaurant. A few years later, off to the US he went where he cooked in New York City before opening his own restaurant in Washington D.C.  Thanks to his love for food and his skill in cooking, José began earning award after honor after critical acclaim.

That’s the end of a version of this story that simply tells how a young Spanish boy became a food rock star. But that’s not José’s story. Instead, he became deeply affected by the 2010 earthquake that devastated much of Haiti. Just as he did as a child, José wanted to help others. So, he gathered a group of friends and went there to cook for the survivors.

After returning to D.C., José knew he could do more for others who needed help. He founded World Central Kitchen, a nonprofit dedicated to providing free meals to survivors of natural and human-​made disasters in communities all over the world. The story follows his work to support people affected by disasters in Puerto Rico, the Bahamas, and Guatemala, as well as COVID-​related challenges in California, New York City, and the Navajo Nation. There’s even a very brief mention of the Ukranian Food Fighters at the end.

Without a doubt, José is doing amazing work that’s worth knowing about and supporting. The key to making a successful nonfiction picture book biography–or any picture book, for that matter–is to find a way to make the story kidcentric. Why? Because if a kid reader doesn’t love the story enough to ask for re-​readings, it’s a one-​and-​done book regardless of the book’s other merits (such as beautiful art, which is the case here).

I worry that Unger sacrificed too much of the potential emotional depth of the story to portray a more exhaustive recounting of José’s entire life and career, and to put the focus so much on the many efforts of the World Central Kitchen. Another way that might make this book more kidcentric would be to embrace the parts of this story that kids would most likely be drawn to, such as the wonder, magic, and even the sound of food. We have a bit of that at the start, but it gives way to the robust biographical journey that follows.

Directly addressing the reader in the last page (“And one day you, too, will find your calling and make the world a better place”) seems to address the above concern. Does it work? Like the Ukranian mention, it feels more of an afterthought, though I’m pleased the Career Day visuals suggest all kinds of interesting future careers. If it only depicted a chef? That wouldn’t be a hit with most kids, I imagine.

The mission of this story is a very good one, and José Andrés comes across as an admirable humanitarian. There’s a strong sense of a connected world community and a positive sense of diversity here in both the text and the accompanying visuals. I hope this book brings a lot of attention to the World Central Kitchen since that appears to be the main course of this literary meal.

4 out of 5 pencils

 

–David’s Review of the Illustrations–

Spanish illustrator Marta Alvarez Miguéns starts on a sweet note, showing the roots of José’s compassion: as a boy, in the hospital where his parents worked, bringing water to an elderly patient. His love for cooking starts with his mom in the kitchen. He makes paella with his dad.

In a lovely, abstract flight of fantasy, young José floats dreamily over a giant kitchen table, spices, chicken, and utensils arrayed like a fanciful village, reminiscent of Maurice Sendak’s In the Night Kitchen. Miguéns takes flight again later in the book, depicting a grown-​up José filling a steaming pot with vegetables that swirl magically around his head, a magician in the kitchen.

The pictures unfold in travelogue fashion now. José, a teenager, approaches cooking school in Barcelona. He cooks in restaurant jobs in New York and Washington, D.C. In a masterstroke, Miguéns brings the two threads of his life together in a touching double spread: a line in a soup kitchen, each person’s face depicted with care and a poignant dignity as they wait, bundled against the cold.

2010, and José responds to reports of the earthquake in Haiti and flies down to help. An image of local volunteers building rows of sandwiches is especially effective, hundreds of sandwiches laid out in a vast grid. Miguéns is mindful of showing other characters helping José in nearly every picture, suggesting humility in the chef. He is not doing this alone.

Next, it’s off to the Bahamas to help, then Guatemala. COVID appears, along with surgical masks, and Miguéns whisks us to the American Southwest, where José and his team help feed the Navajo nation. From California farm workers to Harlem hospital workers, we land in current-​day Ukraine, where José’s organization enlists locals to feed the broken victims of war.

The world events are grim, but Miguéns’ illustrations are hopeful. Each generous spread unfolds like a bright mural. Her vibrant, colorful illustrations remind me of Mary GrandPré’s fluid, almost abstract handling of the human form. Flat shapes tumble and interlock; steam, smoke, flowers, and plants spill and flow over the pages.

The pictures end on a lovely high note: children dressed up for Career Day. A kid in the center wears a chef’s costume. In a clever move, Miguéns has him wearing a cape and raising a spoon like a sword, or a scepter–a superhero, a knight, or a king.

José comes across as all three.

5 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 Write On, Irving Berlin! by Leslie Kimmelman (which appeared on OPB in May 2018). Published by Sleeping Bear Press, that book won a 2021 Charlotte Award from the New York State Reading Association. His forthcoming picture book is Junia, The Book Mule of Troublesome Creek, written by New York Times bestselling author Kim Michele Richardson. It follows Junia, the spunky mule from the bestselling The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek series, in a picture book tribute to Kentucky’s Great Depression Pack Horse Library Project. It’s due from Sleeping Bear Press in March 2024. David teaches illustration at Ringling College of Art and Design.

To learn more about David’s own work, please visit FlyingDogStudio.com.

Picture Book Review: Wombat Said Come In by Carmen Agra Deedy

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Wombat Said Come In
Author: Carmen Agra Deedy
Illustrator: Brian Lies
Peachtree
6 October 2022
48 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (Owner/​Operator of Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB pal) David C. Gardner.

 

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

Give most writers a story about hiding out from an Australian brushfire and you might have a scary story. Not so with Wombat Said Come In. From the start, Carmen Agra Deedy is playing with language as you can see with the sound repetition in “Wombat was not worried,” or “Walleeooooo, Wombat!” That’s fun. And to ensure young readers aren’t worried, there’s “Fire had passed over his burrow before.” Whew. That distances the danger even more, so we can focus on the “crazy quilt” or the tea and cookies in Wombat’s hands.

The story quickly becomes one of constant interruptions. First, Wallaby hops by because he can’t get safely back to his own home. Whether you recall the title or not, of course Wombat invites Wallaby inside his cool, safe underground home. Soon, we’ve got Kookaburra, Platypus, Koala, and Sugar Glider joining the group–one after another–in the safety of Wombat’s home.

Worse, they’re making a mess, sleeping in his quilt, wearing his slippers, and using his handkerchiefs. The art does a splendid job of showing how displeased Wombat is growing. Eventually, “days passed,” and finally it’s safe to go outside. Wombat might like the guests, but he says it plainly: “GO HOME! It’s safe for you to rove and roam, and time for me to be alone. Skedaddle! Shoo! Go home!”

That seems like the end of things, but Sugar Glider (who is oh-​so-​cute in the art) says, “No home-​home to go to-​to.” So, of course, Wombat responds with, “Come in.”

It’s a story of gentleness and generosity, though it’s also about setting limits. You could also easily use this story as a launching point for discussions on gratitude, patience, and how house guests should behave. I’m also a fan of how this book quietly presents the challenges of dealing with a natural disaster without letting that aspect overpower the story.

There’s a lyrical read-​aloud quality to this book, too, that will help make young readers want to hear Wombat’s story again and again. Perhaps Wombat’s inviting refrain will inspire others to be equally generous in times of need.

4.5 out of 5 pencils

 

–David’s Review of the Illustrations–

Acclaimed author Jane Yolen maintains that the best children’s book illustrations don’t just decorate the book. They deepen it.

Brian Lies does just that in Wombat Said Come In. He wordlessly builds anticipation and sets the scene for the story even before the title page. In a clever cross-​section of Wombat’s underground home, Wombat is reading in his cozy den. You could spend an afternoon exploring the illustration’s charming details, a Lies trademark. Next, a double spread takes a striking high-​angle view of the path leading up to Wombat’s front door. In the red Australian soil, assorted animal tracks suggest the animals we’ll encounter by the end of the book. A welcome mat is an important detail. The single image conveys one of the themes: All are welcome here.

In addition to his use of clever, fresh, and surprising details, Lies is known for his capturing of light, which is especially strong throughout. His technique of layering acrylics and sculpting with light and shadow, using vibrant colors so delicious, I had to catch my breath at a few page turns. The light is so convincing at times, the characters seem to leap off the page.

When the story begins, Wombat answers the door with his comfy quilt and cookies and tea, which makes the interruption of all his animal neighbors all the more disruptive and funny. The pictures are consistently lighthearted, painted in vibrant jewel tones. Lies conveys Wombat’s growing frustration amidst his neighbors’ chaos with a light touch, so the character never comes across as mean. And the fire blazing outside is never shown, only indicated by smoke, so the book is never scary.

Every page is fun. The pictures bounce with variety, inventive layouts, and plenty of action. They send us tumbling forward along with Wombat, building to the requisite climactic party scene, a striking spread with a background of rich orange, the burrow’s wall, characters flying everywhere, and a single line of text. Poor Wombat is hopelessly trapped underground with the craziness. Could things get any worse?

In fact, things get better.

Wombat emerges the next morning. The fire has died. It is safe for his neighbors to leave. Lies adds a lovely grace note, deepening the text again: a tiny, green seedling catches the light. The light on the final welcome mat illustration, repeated from the beginning of the book, has gone rosy and warm with morning, sprigs of new grass sprouting. Lies beautifully extends the hope in the text, hope that springs from Wombat’s kindness, with this final image of new growth.

5 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 Write On, Irving Berlin! by Leslie Kimmelman (which appeared on OPB in May 2018). Published by Sleeping Bear Press, that book won a 2021 Charlotte Award from the New York State Reading Association. 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 David’s own work, please visit FlyingDogStudio.com.

Picture Book Review: Hurricane by John Rocco

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews
Author: John Rocco
Illustrator: John Rocco
Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
7 September 2021
48 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (Owner/​Operator of Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB pal) David C. Gardner.

 

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

I chose this book to review because John Rocco’s art is consistently luscious and delightful (I enlisted David Gardner to explain the hows and whys below!), and Rocco’s new picture book, Hurricane, is no exception. What grabbed me on the first page of text is how the boy walking to the end of a decrepit dock remarks “It’s very old and splintery.” Wow, that last word is spot-​on. It’s the sort of exactitude of language I don’t encounter often enough in picture books by author-illustrators.

The boy we’re following in the story returns home after a lovely day of fishing and swimming off that dock to find his dad boarding up the house in preparation for a hurricane. Does the father seem a bit too calm (both in his visual appearance and not using an exclamation point in telling the boy to go inside)? Maybe. Being in Florida for more than a decade now, I know all about hurricanes–intimately so. I’m not a fan of seeing the boy with his face pressed up against a top-​story window during the actual storm. That’s dangerous stuff, I’m afraid, since windows are very susceptible to blowing out in hurricanes. Plus, we just saw the dad boarding up the downstairs window for safety reasons. In a hurricane, EVERY window is a source of danger. Rocks and debris get kicked up and fly around like bullets–any one of them could shatter any window at any time.

But again, in this very same moment where the boy looks out at the storm from the upstairs window, the language is once more quite evocative: “The rain doesn’t fall in drops–it slashes sideways as if shot from a fire hose.”

I don’t want to harp on bad parenting in a picture book, BUT letting the boy outside in the post-​storm wreckage of the neighborhood the next morning (witness flooding, felled trees, and damaged houses!)? That’s hard to swallow in this age of helicopter parenting or just general common sense. I fully appreciate that it’s a story about a child, so getting adults out of the way is helpful in terms of keeping it the child’s story, but this stops me. There’s not a single adult anywhere when he first goes outside. Yes, he could’ve sneaked out before anyone noticed, though adults tend to go outside to assess damage the moment it’s safe to do so.

I often think about the obligations of authors and illustrators in picture books. While we don’t want to make our stories too didactic, can we err too much on the other side by having kids so completely in their own kid-​world bubble that they miss growth opportunities or seem to exist in a world that’s not quite our own? Maybe I’ve seen too many big Florida storms to easily buy into the casual response here in an otherwise real-​world setting with realistic characters. Maybe picture books should be more aspirational and inspirational than realistic? Or maybe we can do all three at once? It’s an interesting conundrum for sure for which there’s no easy answer.

The boy is quite concerned with how the “monster”–meaning the storm–gobbled up the dock he loved so much. Since no one else ever used that dock, it easily explains why everyone has more pressing things to do than deal with that ruined dock. So, the boy decides he’ll try to fix it. That’s a lovely moment since the dock is so special to him and him alone. It’s almost like a friend who needs help.

I won’t spoil the ending, but there’s a strong sense of community in play through both words and visuals–it’s quite compelling. I’m also charmed by the back matter, which includes an image of a note the author wrote at six years old.

To Mom and Dad–

I have gone fishing. I will come back with a fish. John

P.S. I hope I will come back with a fis!

In quality STEAM fashion, readers are also given double-​page spreads that reveal how both a dock and a hurricane work. Like the rest of the illustrations in this story, these schematic-​like images are impressive and memorable.

This is a gorgeous picture book that feels visually on par with Rocco’s other fine titles (including an OPB favorite, Blackout). The story feels somewhat less potent in comparison, however. Overall, this is a fine book that can spark useful discussions about dangerous weather, community, and fear, as well as kids who have “secret” places. And do I need to mention yet again how fine the images are? Rocco is a supremely talented visual storyteller.

4.25 out of 5 pencils

 

–David’s Review of the Illustrations–

John Rocco is perhaps best well-​known for his beloved, iconic illustrations for the Percy Jackson book series, so it’s no surprise that his cover for Hurricane is a knockout.

The cover promises a dramatic story: the low camera angle, the slash of lighting across the boy on the pier, the monochromatic background and characters in near silhouette in poses suggesting urgent anticipation of something terrible. The hurricane is referred to as a “monster” in the text, and the kids on the cover could easily be witnessing the arrival of Godzilla.

The story unfolds cinematically, shifting from wide shots to close-​ups. Small panels, like storyboards, show progression. The depiction of the river creeping up the street is clear and exciting––we see the boy’s point-​of-​view looking through his window. Like a fixed camera shot, the first picture shows a red car in the rain, the second shows the same car, flood water rising fast all around it.

Plenty of generous double spreads are put to good use. I found two layouts especially effective: The hurricane devastating the boy’s street, full-​bore, and the boy dreaming of the ocean creatures stirred up and sailing beneath his pier. It’s a moment filled with wonder.

Rocco is at the forefront of the visual storytellers who currently work in children’s books and in visual development for animation. His extensive work as a concept artist for studios like Dreamworks is evident. Mood and emotions are essential elements in concept art, and they are conveyed masterfully in Hurricane, from the sunny beginning to the turbulent storm to a sparkling, hopeful resolution.

Much of this is in his depiction of light––the changes from blue skies and French vanilla clouds to the shadowy, dimly lit, desaturated palette of the storm. For the aftermath, light sparkles on the calm water in a lovely, well-​observed play of light.

The painted effects, done in watercolor, line and digital painting, are delightful. Wind and rain, tumbling leaves, waves and splashes––there’s is dynamic movement on every page. Rocco’s loving and carefully studied rendering of water, clouds, the swirl of debris, and the details of the smallest props, such as the boys rod-​and-​reel, all ground the story in a realistic setting, which heightens the impact of the storm.

A recurring seagull character adds a funny (but believable) lighthearted touch. Technical illustrations describing hurricane formation and pier construction serve as bookends. They’re not essential to the story, but they round the book out into a perfect study guide for classrooms.

4.5 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 in May 2018). 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 David’s own work, please visit FlyingDogStudio.com.

Picture Book Review: Outside, Inside by LeUyen Pham

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Author: LeUyen Pham
Illustrator: LeUyen Pham
Roaring Brook Press
5 January 2021
48 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (Semi-​Professional Insider at Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB pal) David C. Gardner.

 

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

The story is quiet, calm, and simple. People who were once outside are now inside. And it’s not just people in one or two places who go inside–it’s “Everyone. Everywhere. All over the world.” But she adds, “Well, almost everyone. Some people needed to be…where they needed to be.”

Who are these people who are exempt from heading indoors? The art that tells us–it’s people from hospitals, police stations, and fire departments. And they’re all wearing face masks.

While the words “virus,” “pandemic,” and “COVID” aren’t included anywhere, that’s clearly what this book is addressing–it’s a fine example of an “of the moment” book. Pham captures the worldwide scope of the coronavirus situation via artwork showing people of all types, and the constant use of “We.” She does an admirable job of presenting both the private and public experiences of a world facing the challenges of a pandemic.

The art style seems to create some of the tension many of us have felt over the past year. I think it has to do with the textures and colors, but I’ll leave it to David to dig deeper into that aspect of things. Since Pham admits that she never thinks of the words first, I suspect there’s a rich trove of details to examine in the art that launched this book.

Regardless, it’s very hard to create a picture book that deals with such a topical issue, but Pham dodges both sentimentality and didacticism with the only attempt at nudging people toward specific action being in this spread below, near the end of the book.

Outside, Inside ends on an appropriate, uplifting note: “And we remembered that soon spring would come. Inside…and outside.” Utilizing the metaphorical versus the literal here is a wise choice that helps open up the book and make it feel bigger than other “of the moment” texts.

This book is a welcome, timely response to a crisis that has dominated our world for a year and requires vital, careful conversations with the children in our lives going forward. Well done, LeUyen Pham.

4.75 out of 5 pencils

 

–David’s Review of the Illustrations–

LeUyen Pham’s evocative cover sets the tone: a girl and her pet black cat, seen from behind, looking through a window. Outside, only white. It’s a playful and mysterious image – I couldn’t help wondering what was out there.

The book starts with a bustling neighborhood street, full of people. In the next spread, the same street is empty.

Something strange is going on.

Even without the words, we can see that. When the people disappear inside, they seem to take the bright colors with them. The palette becomes muted.

 

The book, we realize, is a visual journal, showing empty shops and everyday people grounded in everyday details: laptops, masks, indoor activities. And hopeful moments, too: a teddy bear in a window, a family happily baking bread, a drive-​by birthday party.

Double spreads are interspersed with vignettes, illustrated scenes like snapshots, images that are common to us all now: Kids playing board games, attending online classes, parents worrying over bills to pay.

The artist has said that she based the pictures on daily drawings she made, recording the pandemic for herself, sketching moments from each day.

An especially effective spread is a mosaic of these vignettes centered around a hospital. In one image, an exhausted health care worker naps on a breakroom couch while another calls home.

We see other cartoon photos of exhausted nurses and doctors, patients on gurneys, and families, all types, huddled in concern and support.

At some point, the artist opens the story up to include the world. Early in her career, Ms. Pham worked as a layout artist for Dreamworks Animation, and her attention to environment and regional architectural details is quite effective. She tells us in pictures: This situation is global.

Still, she uses a light touch. The world never seems too big or overwhelming. In a brilliant, subtle bit of visual storytelling, the girl and her cat act as our tour guides. The bold, simple shapes reminded me of the lighthearted, gouache-​painted Golden Book illustrations of Disney great Mary Blair. There are plenty of vibrant colors to appeal to a child, but she balances them with grayed tones that keep the story grounded in our shared, often challenging, reality.

In the end, the artist’s overall tone is one of hopefulness.

She visualizes this with plants, outside and inside. Growing things: A potted plant leafing out as the book progresses, trees that bud and bloom.

One especially effective passage near the book’s end suggests that we are all the same inside. Reaching a colorful crescendo, the flood of hearts could seem cliché as a visual symbol, but in this artist’s hands, the valentines become a lovely, moving design, a powerful extension of the text.

Ms. Pham captures the pandemic and the lockdown with a reporter’s eye and an artist’s big spirit. Whimsical and heart-​tugging, the illustrations strike the perfect tone for a children’s book. This is a much-​needed report from the trenches, and each page-​turn offers a perspective that is sure to comfort children – and their grown-ups.

It certainly comforted me.

5 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 in May 2018). 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 David’s own work, please visit FlyingDogStudio.com.

 

Picture Book Review: Tiara’s Hat Parade by Kelly Starling Lyons

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Tiara’s Hat Parade
Author: Kelly Starling Lyons
Illustrator: Nicole Tadgell
Albert Whitman & Co.
1 April 2020
32 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (champion hat-​wearer at Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB friend) David C. Gardner.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

This new book by Kelly Starling Lyons tells a tale you don’t often see in picture books–capitalism. Tiara’s momma is terrific at making hats, but along comes a new store in town that sells them cheaper, so when Momma’s sales bottom out, she reluctantly shuts down her small business–the Tracy Rose Millinery. But Tiara isn’t fine with that because she loved Momma’s creations, and not just because Tiara was its top hat model.

Even though Momma eventually finds another outlet for her creativity–teaching art at Tiara’s school–it’s not the same. She’s clearly still sad about her defunct business and no longer being able to make her beloved hats for friends, family, and the community. Tiara can tell how much Momma misses it. So, when it’s time on Fun Friday to choose the next class art project, Tiara suggests, “Hats!” That’s what the class does, and Momma and the students have a blast.

But Tiara takes it a step further. She advertises a Hat Parade at Height Elementary, with the request that people come and wear their favorite Tracy Rose hat. They come out in droves with each taking a turn on stage to model their hats and share how empowering and individually meaningful they are. Momma is touched, and she starts to get orders for new hats once again. Maybe, too, Tiara has discovered her own future calling as well after finding great pleasure in helping her friend, Matti, improve on her art class creation.

I’ll leave it to David to speak about how these interesting visuals complement the story, but Tiara’s Hat Parade goes well beyond the tale of a small business that fails and finally comes around again thanks to community spirit. It’s also about a young girl’s indefatigable spirit and deep love for family. A thoughtful Author’s Note also shares the author’s own experience with hats and explains how they are a vital part of Black women’s–and men’s–style. A list of Famous Black Milliners is an added bonus to the back matter.

This emotional-​but-​triumphant story utilizes language at times that matches the beauty of Momma’s fine hats, which is a very nice touch.

4.25  out of 5 pencils

– David’s Review of the Illustrations–

The illustrations by Nicole Tadgell are light, lively, and expressive. They highlight the characters’ relationships, never missing an opportunity to show characters interacting playfully with one another. The text relies on these relationships to tell the story, but the pictures show us these relationships–the closeness, the joy and the humor–in a way the text cannot, from Tiara’s closeness to her mom, to the joy in the big finale, the hat parade, the women’s outfits, colorful and varied.

The expressions of the characters are clear on every single page due to Ms. Tadgell’s thoughtful depiction of facial expressions, body language, and her attention to the emotions of color. For example, when Tiara’s mother and her family go through hard times, the colors take us down, cool and desaturated, without dipping too far down into mere drabness.

Even in a sad moment though, there is a fluidity and charm to Ms. Tadgell’s style, due in part to the sensitivity of the watercolor paintings and the light, loose holding line of the pencil which, at its best, recalls the charm of Trina Schart Hyman’s classic work. The mother, in particular, rings true. Using specific details, such as her distinctive hairstyle, glasses, and even the type of clothing Momma chooses to wear, she leaps from the realm of generic mother to being a warm, real person. There’s the visual contrast between Tiara, thin and angular, and Momma, round and soft, which sets up a pleasing–and essential–variety to the central relationship of the book.

The great success of these pictures is the emotion they convey on every page, and, by extension, the connections and relationships: Mother and daughter dancing in the hat shop to friends’ applause (a clever visual foreshadowing of the climactic parade), the family gathered around the dinner table in unspoken sadness, Momma dancing in front of her giddy students at school. The colorful hat parade of the title splashes across a series of pages, each wonderfully realized model/​friend alive in a spotlight of her own. A sense of community, togetherness, and fun is conveyed through the characters’ constantly moving–dancing, strutting, reaching–and through the colors, bright but never garish.

Ms. Tadgell skimps a bit on the background details now and then, such as a window frame that feels sketched in as an afterthought and could have used the same loving attention as the observed detail on Momma’s dress or a nearby jade plant. Proportions and perspective in the drawings feels a bit off at times. But those details seem minor considering the overall fun in the spot-​on hat designs and colors, full of rich, observed detail.

It’s clear to see why Tracy Rose’s hats bring so much joy to others, and clearly these pictures will delight any child.

4.5 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 in May 2018). 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 David’s own work, please visit FlyingDogStudio.com.

Picture Book Review: Pippa’s Night Parade by Lisa Robinson and Lucy Fleming

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews

Pippa’s Night Parade
Author: Lisa Robinson
Illustrator: Lucy Fleming
Two Lions
8 October 2019
32 pages

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

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

Pippa has a problem–a “wonderfully wild imagination” that sometimes “runs a little TOO wild.” She does just fine at day when her various costumes serve as armor, but come nighttime? She worries about “villains and monsters and beasts.” Indeed, they pour forth from the darkest corners of both her imagination and her bedroom to cause grief.

Pippa finally tries to tackle her fears head-​on through an invitation to all monsters to come out that night for the Scary Night Parade. Her hope is to deal with the lot of them, once and for all. Yet it doesn’t work out as she hoped. But Pippa refuses to quit. Her next attempt to deal with the monsters leverages something she’s loved from the start–fashion. She’s a big fan of dress-​up. When she brings out the “sashes and sequins and bows” and “belts and berets and shawls,” the critters get into the fashionista spirit and participate in the spectacular show.

Robinson wisely doesn’t let the parents save the day (they quite reasonably send Pippa back to her own bed “again and again and again”). She also presents Pippa as being able to overcome her greatest weakness/​fear through the use of an existing strength. That’s an empowering thing for kids to consider.

Pippa becoming the leader of the monster pack feels like a quiet nod toward Where the Wild Things Are, too, though it’s a bit unfair to compare any book to Sendak’s nuanced masterpiece.

Many readers will delight in Robinson’s attention to the repetition of sound, such as “designs a disguise” and “beasts and brutes and baddies.” They’ll likely enjoy the presentation of Pippa, as well, since she’s a plucky dark-​haired girl who uses her imagination plus problem-​solving skills to get past a common childhood issue.

The well-​wrought cartoony illustrations help bring it all together and keep this story more fun than frightening.

4 out of 5 pencils

– David’s Review of the Illustrations–

A light in the darkness.

It starts with the cover: Pippa, victorious, wields a flashlight. Banishing fears with light is the major motif that illustrator Lucy Fleming finds to bring this minimal text to life. It’s a lovely, visual way to capture Pippa’s solution to her bedtime fears.

Along the way, Fleming has plenty of room to add playful touches, like adding a cute white cat (notice: not a scary black Halloween cat!) who accompanies Pippa, like a witch’s “familiar.” The palette is perfect for Halloween, lots of violet, starting with the end papers, complemented with yellow throughout.

This book is clearly aimed at a very young crowd. The pictures are mysterious without being too scary, with plenty of humor, action, and movement. Her monsters early on take the form of ghostly shadows, in one especially clever extension of the text, unscrewing the lightbulbs over Pippa’s bed when she “tries extra nightlights.”

Pippa’s whimsical answer to defeating the monsters? Dress them in silly costumes. That whimsy is echoed in Fleming’s loose, sometimes flattened style, colorful and bright, even at their spookiest, bringing to mind the way a child might draw and color the action.

It would be a mistake, though, to dismiss Fleming’s pictures as naïve. She draws Pippa as a big-​headed kid in the style of the great Mary Blair, a Disney stylist from the 40s through the 60s (think “It’s a Small World”). Blair’s approach is much imitated in picture books today. Fleming even mimics Blair’s gouache painting style, except her opaque watercolor and colored pencil is all created digitally. She manages to bring to it a texture and warmth that feels made-by-hand.

The neatest trick of all: The text moves in and out of Pippa’s mind as her real world intersects with her imagination. To a very young child, there’s not much difference between the two worlds. Fleming blends them, painting a vivid picture of Pippa’s inner and outer landscape, drawing us into the story more deeply than the text alone could manage.

This is a simple story, but a difficult, archetypal one in a child’s development. Fleming manages to help it all go down like Halloween candy.

4 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 David’s own work, please visit FlyingDogStudio.com.