Tag: Picture Book Reviews

Picture Book Review: Keeping the City Going by Brian Floca

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews

27 April 2021
40 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (#1 city-​goer at Only Picture Books) and freelance author/​illustrator Kelly Light.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

Brian Floca’s new picture book, Keeping the City Going, tells a familiar story since it’s one we all lived some version of since early 2020. Our narrator is a young child who immediately turns the story’s focus outward into the “almost, but not entirely” empty streets where a few people are “there because we need them.” What Floca is directing our attention to are those who continued to work to keep the city going when COVID-​19 threatened to shut everything down.

Bus drivers, train engineers, food delivery people, police officers, taxi drivers, trash collectors, postal carriers, package couriers, construction crews, EMTs, doctors, nurses, aides, and more–they’re all here in these pages, each nobly doing what has to be done so that we can “not feel so alone” and that we can “stay connected.”

While the art is on par with Floca’s award-​winning work in his other books–I’ll let Kelly explain why below–his attention to sound is truly interesting. It starts with the awareness that “the voice of the city is low,” but as the story continues and we witness the work of so many brave souls, the noise–the life–of the city increases. “A clap, a whistle, a call.” Then “pots BANG! Drums BOOM! Bells RING! Horns BLOW!–a racket, a din, and a row!”

The end of the book follows through on this metaphor of the city having a voice. Ultimately, this voice says what we all want it to–a well-​earned THANK YOU to the people still out on the streets, working hard to keep our city going, whether it’s NYC, Chicago, Scranton, or Sarasota.

Those who didn’t experience COVID-​19 in NYC might find it odd for Floca to be so specific about the 7pm celebrations. An Author’s Note explains that: “I took additional inspiration from neighbors I could hear cheering every evening at seven o’clock, through the spring. Home from school and home from work, isolated and with stresses and struggles of their own, they were sounding from their windows and stoops a daily expression of gratitude toward healthcare and other workers still on the job—cheers we cannot imagine to be all we owe those workers, but that helped lift morale in the early, overwhelming days of the pandemic, when the lift was badly needed.”

What’s lovely is that the children at the start of the book are here, too, showing their appreciation and happiness along with the rest. They’re part of the “we” that includes us–the readers, too.

Like LeUyen Pham’s Outside, Inside (which we reviewed here at OPB), this is an important book to help young readers make sense of the pandemic. And it’s a welcome Thank You! to a group of people–and a city–that deserves it.

This heartfelt, earnest book is both delightful and appropriate.

4.5 out of 5 pencils

 

–Kelly’s Review of the Illustrations–

I moved from Brooklyn to Western, MA in the summer of 2019. Neither you nor I could have any clue that just a year later, we would be in an unprecedented, global lockdown. I was glued to the footage on the TV of NYC. I found it hard to fathom the rush, the hum, the cacophony of NYC, hushed. I was so moved by scenes of the exuberant 7PM pot clanging and cheering to honor the essential workers.

In his book Keeping the City Going, Brian Floca captures first-​hand the experience of living in NYC in 2020 as well as capturing the fighting NYC spirit as it endures an unimaginable pandemic. Floca must have been a wartime illustrator in a past life. Ernest Shepherd, illustrator of Winnie the Pooh and master draftsman, was himself a WWI illustrator. He might look at Floca’s work here and see a kindred pencil. Managing to merge a journalistic drawing approach with visual storytelling for an audience of young readers, Keeping the City Going is a time capsule of an awful time that chooses to hold on to and depict the best of what took place in the midst of the worst year in modern history. There is an intimacy in Floca’s art where there could have been a detached voyeuristic view in the streetscapes. There is a love, simply drawn into every line, for the city he calls home.

I found myself recognizing so much in Floca’s drawings. I saw the “Thank You, Thank You, Thank You” plastic bags found in every bodega used to deliver food all over the five boroughs. I recognized the brownstones, the skyline and the corner of Smith Street in Brooklyn. “The City” has specific shapes and colors–the repetitive rectangles of bricks and buildings and doors and stoops and skyscrapers and trucks and windows. The windows are the frames, the visual device Floca uses to help us focus in and recognize one other thing: the humanity. Keeping The City Going is truly a book about humanity. New York City’s greatness is its people. The faces seen through the windows, the children, the essential workers, the families and the cats are all giving us the feeling that we, too, are peering in to the city, appreciating everyone keeping it moving.

The palette is warm and golden, as if it is summer in the city, except that there are long sleeves and pants on everyone. Perhaps his choice of palette is intentional–to warm our feelings as we heal from our collective trauma. There are down jackets and scarves on the workers and bike delivery guys, letting us know that though there is a chill in the air, there is protection.

Floca begins the book with two children tentatively pulling back a curtain to look out of a window. The children appear on several more pages and we see them join in with the joyous 7PM tribute to the service workers of the city. Watching the children find ways to acclimate to this strange way of life is reassuring and affirms that life goes on. Floca draws humans in a simplified realistic style in contrast to his obvious enjoyment of mechanical detail. The figures are drawn expertly and not “over drawn.” He could have created visual noise with never-​ending detail. Instead, he treats the people with sensitivity and restraint and good gesture drawing.

The boldest illustration in the book is of the ambulance. The EMT is looking directly out at the reader, her two dot eyes making eye contact with us. The vehicle is drawn with the technical accuracy that has garnered Floca many awards including a Caldecott for 2013’s Locomotive.

His ability to draw is unquestionable. His ability to NOT over-​draw, is his greatest gift. Using watercolor and ink, Floca lifts his pen off of the paper in all of the right places. He allows the color to do some of the work to outline form. In some places, like on the side of a sanitation truck, every lever and button and reflector and decal is drawn, but the tires? They are loose with lines wrapping around to describe the tire more than define it. The faces with masks adorned are only given a touch of ink to maintain their softness. This skill comes from observational drawing–drawing from live models and sitting with a sketchbook on a lap. Floca has the uncanny ability to show you a lot, to teach you how things are made in his drawings and in this book, and to make you feel something with his art.

Keeping the City Going is more than another historical nonfiction feat of draftsmanship that marvels at the mechanics of man-​made wonders. Floca can draw those. This time out, he applied his skills to capture the greatest act of mankind–kindness.

4.5 out of 5 colored pencils

Kelly Light lives in Amherst, MA but grew up down the shore in New Jersey surrounded by giant pink dinosaurs, cotton candy colors, and Skee-​Ball sounds. She was schooled on Saturday-​morning cartoons and Sunday funny pages. She picked up a pencil, started drawing, and never stopped.

Kelly is the author/​Illustrator of the Louise series. Louise Loves Art and Louise and Andie, The Art of Friendship are the first two picture books in the series. Louise Loves Bake Sales and Louise and The Class Pet are the first readers in HarperCollins’ I Can Read program.

Kelly has also illustrated Elvis and the Underdogs and Elvis and the Underdogs: Secrets, Secret Service, and Room Service by Jenny Lee, and The Quirks series by Erin Soderberg.

Website: www.kellylight.com

Picture Book Review: June Almeida, Virus Detective! by Suzanne Slade

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews

June Almeida, Virus Detective!  The Woman Who Discovered the First Human Coronavirus
Author: Suzanne Slade
Illustrator: Elisa Paganelli
Sleeping Bear Press
15 March 2021
40 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (#1 Biography Lover at Only Picture Books) and UK-​based artist (and new OPB friend) Lucy Barnard.

**Yes, Lucy being from the UK means we’re all just going to roll with the British spellings (“colour,” etc.) this month. Embrace it!**

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

I’m always leery of cradle-​to-​grave picture book biographies about someone who isn’t name-​brand famous along the lines of Stephen Hawking, Kobe Bryant, or Georgia O’Keefe. But the throughline of June’s life–a deep interest in science that sharpened into a goal to help sick people in general, and children in specific–began at a very early age. So, we quite reasonably start with her childhood and soon learn how she lost a brother to diphtheria when she was ten. While this book moves past that event relatively quickly, the trauma clearly informed June’s life and guided her to her life’s work–becoming a brilliant virologist.

It’s hard to imagine how June “left school at age 16 to help pay family bills” and still managed to pursue her own interest in science. But she did. In her role as a scientist, June flourished.

While it’s less clear why no one else seemed to realize how to make such good use of an electron microscope, it’s quite clear that June–“a photographer at heart,” Slade writes–had the creativity and interest in picture-​making to figure it out.

June snapped away photos of “tiny blobs,” and was able to determine which were viruses and which were antibodies. This was a game changer for scientists who were essentially working blind with viruses–they were desperate for the answers she found. Not only was June the first to discover coronavirus, but she studied other viruses, too, such as rubella, hepatitis B, and HIV. Her work helped others create ways to battle viruses and make the world a healthier place.

Beyond the amazing timeliness of this book, what makes it memorable is that author Suzanne Slade is once again able to make science sound interesting. And her ability to take a complicated scientific process like negative staining and explain it in two pages is impressive. Couple that with Elisa Paganelli’s fine artwork, and this book is a worthy take on a worthy role model.

A thorough timeline, high-​level bibliography, and two pages of context-​providing back matter about June and electron microscopes will be of help to readers who want a deeper look into June’s world. Slade also includes a scientific spoof of William Blake’s “The Tyger” poem which June wrote, though the humor evident there isn’t showcased in June’s life in this book.

Ultimately, this book is focused on June’s scientific accomplishments versus some larger personal narrative arc, and that’s just fine. So is the cradle-​to-​grave coverage of June’s life (she died in 2007 at age 77). Bringing light to underappreciated or forgotten women in STEM is always worthwhile, even without the book’s clear pandemic connection that’s likely moving this to the must-​get category for libraries and schools.

4.25 out of 5 pencils

 

– Lucy’s Review of the Illustrations–

Before being asked to review this book, I have to confess that I had not heard of the virologist June Almeida. Her story is a fascinating and timely one, brought to life beautifully by the illustrations of Elisa Paganelli. The cover sets the scientific tone immediately and shows June as a grown woman, but the first spread takes us right back to her childhood. The figure of June as a little girl cuts across both pages as she races breathlessly towards school; this cleverly indicates where her passions lie whilst also drawing us into the rest of the book.

The mix of single pages, spreads, and vignettes keep the design of this book fresh and interesting. It really feels like we are accompanying June on her journey. Indeed, the character development is skillfully done as we see June progress from a little girl right the way through to old age. I also love the muted colour palette used throughout the book; no garish, bright colours here, the tones are more likely to be earthy ochres, blue-​greys and mustard yellows.

Spreads five and eight are particular favourites of mine, not only for their fabulous compositions and beautiful illustrations of figures and architecture, but also because both cleverly juxtapose June’s home and work life (plainly showing us that she was a working wife and mother in an era when this was undoubtedly uncommon).

The illustrations also manage to bring to life some complex scientific ideas and imagery in a very accessible way. We are shown June thinking whilst a microscope and photos swirl around her, a clear illustrative explanation of a particular procedure and the moment June discovered confirmation of a new virus.

June Almeida was a truly inspirational woman and, in these times of a coronavirus pandemic, her story deserves to be more widely known. Elisa Paganelli’s illustrations are a perfect accompaniment to this rich and fascinating life story and strike just the right note for a children’s picture book.

4.5 out of 5 crayons

Lucy Barnard has been a freelance illustrator for more years than she cares to remember and, after illustrating for many other authors, decided to begin writing her own picture books. She is represented as an illustrator by

www.advocate-art.com

and as an author by

www.carolinewakeman.com

Lucy lives in Manchester, UK, and loves reading, eating cake, and going on long walks with her family and dog.

Picture Book Review: Ten Beautiful Things by Molly Beth Griffin

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews

Ten Beautiful Things
Author: Molly Beth Griffin
Illustrator: Maribel Lechuga
Charlesbridge
12 January 2021
32 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (Picture Book Reader Aficionado at Only Picture Books) and Ringling College of Art and Design Illustration Professor (and OPB friend) Rebecca Zomchek.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

Moving to a new home is on the short list of Most Stressful Things a child can go through, and that’s what’s happening with our main character, Lily. The story begins with Gram driving Lily to a far-​off Iowa farmhouse–the child’s new home.

We quickly realize that Lily is going through yet another Most Stressful Thing. Her parents are MIA. It’s never explained why they’re not in the book, but the reasons surely don’t matter. The mere fact of their absence exponentially adds to Lily’s sadness and anxiety.

To pass the time–and take Lily’s mind off her worries–Gram suggests, “Let’s try to find ten beautiful things along the way.”

Lily is understandably reluctant. But, soon, she notices how beautiful things start to appear once you begin to look for them.

A gorgeous sunset.

A wind farm whose “spinning windmill blades gleamed in the morning sun.”

“A red-​winged blackbird perched on a swaying stalk of last year’s corn.”

What makes things interesting and situationally honest is that between these moments where Lily witnesses beautiful things–all wonderfully depicted by the skilled hands of Maribel Lechuga–she slips back to feeling sad and “hollow” inside. The contrast of Lily being gently urged out of her funk by these beautiful moments is well handled, and the more beautiful moments she finds, the less fully and frequently Lily slips back into that place of sadness.

Beauty seems to resurrect her dampened spirits and fortify her. What a lovely idea.

At one point, Gram suggests that a falling-​apart barn counts as a beautiful thing, yet Lily disagrees because it’s not pretty. Gram responds: “We’re not looking for pretty. We want beautiful.” What a great distinction–pretty versus beautiful. I can see how adult readers might have a conversation with a child over what those words mean and why considering their differences is worthwhile.

Without giving spoilers, the resolution to the hollow feeling inside Lily’s chest and the arrival of beautiful thing #10 are emotionally rewarding and earned by the story.  I’m also pleased that the author avoided naming most of the emotions, choosing instead to let art, action, and nuanced dialogue bring those to life for readers. Trust me–they’ll get it.

In Ten Beautiful Things, Molly Beth Griffin has created a touching, quiet book that’s both a nod to the wonders of the natural world and a positive life-​changing journey for a child who has brighter days ahead.

4.75 out of 5 pencils

 

– Rebecca’s Review of the Illustrations–

This book is a visual pleasure and really is full of many beautiful things.

We are presented with a wonderful diversity of times of day, landscapes, and weather, and through these different vistas, the book does a brilliant job of taking us on this journey of not only passing from city into country, but finding our way home.

As someone who grew up in the Midwest and has gone on many meditative car trips, this book was wonderfully nostalgic and felt like such a real time and space come to life on the page. From the rolling fields, to hay bales, to the wind turbines and glowing treetops at sunrise, the land springs to life for us as the day unfolds and invites us along on the visual and emotional journey Lily and Gram are experiencing.

Illustrator Maribel Lechuga has really taken advantage of digital painting’s capacity for texture and has included wonderful movement and light. The clouds swirl and undulate, grass and water flow, and both leaves and birds float in the breeze. Along with our vibrant landscapes, we get wonderful 360° views around the car, both inside and outside, which help to capture the feeling of movement and the inner and outer worlds of a person.

One of my favorite scenes is the rainstorm as Gram and Lily get close to their final destination. The storm is palpable and generates a sense of drama, energy, and cleansing. This moment also creates closeness between the characters, and I found myself drawn into every page, looking at all of the small details and finding beauty in the pebbles and fences and treetops as I remembered so clearly and fondly the places where I grew up.

Lechuga captures emotion even with a relatively simplified character design style. We can feel loss, longing, questioning, and even grief on the characters’ faces (especially Lily’s), but also toward the end of the book we can feel the peace, growth, and love between the two characters as they find beauty together through hard times.

For a book that covers a lot of intense emotions that are not necessarily given names in the text, the illustrations do a fantastic job of drawing us all in and connecting us to the journey–both physical and emotional–that the characters are taking. At the end of the book I, too, was pleased with all the beautiful things I found and felt as I enjoyed this story.

5 out of 5 crayons

Rebecca Zomchek is a children’s book illustrator who has worked as a concept artist and cartoonist. She earned her BFA from Syracuse University and her MFA from The School of Visual Arts; she teaches Illustration at Ringling College of Art and Design. Rebecca likes distinguished things like classical music and museums, but also loves being outside and getting paint everywhere.

Picture Book Review: Bear Outside by Jane Yolen

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews
Author: Jane Yolen
Illustrator: Jen Corace
Neal Porter Books
2 March 2021
32 pages

For the first time ever, the review of the story-​side of a picture book isn’t being done by Ryan G. Van Cleave (owner/​operator of Only Picture Books).

Don’t worry, though. We’ve brought in ringers to handle things at the same high level we all expect of OPB picture book reviews.

So, without further ado, here’s this month’s picture book review that features insight from Brooklyn-​based editor Octavia Saenz and Florida-​based freelance artist (& OPB superfriend) Austin McKinley.

—Octavia’s Review of the Writing—

Bears are quiet, solitary things, but sometimes, if you look closely enough, you might find profound wisdom. Like the narrator of Bear Outside, the book itself is a quietly wise thing with a simple exterior that hides a deeper truth about what we owe ourselves.

The story is simple—and, like any good picture book, is half told in the details of the art—as the narrator explains how she wears her bear on the outside, as a form of protection, as a companion, as a talisman of courage. Beyond the narrator’s simple words, we see how the bear is a shield against mocking classmates as well as a a collaborator for the narrator having fun on their own. She says, too, that the bear is hers to take care of, and in the artwork we see her taking care of herself. She engages in brave and kind acts, fighting back bees to eat honey, and giving flowers to a neighbor, all with the help of the bear.

Bear Outside, celebrated author Jane Yolen’s 400th book, is an ode to kids who march to their own bear, and a guide for the imaginative ones in touch with their needs and boundaries.

It’s wonderful.

5 out of 5 pencils

—Austin’s Review of the Illustrations—

The central conceit of Bear Outside—that of a child imagining wearing their inner spirit as a kind of protective and companionable aura—is delightfully rich visual territory which the book’s artist, Jen Corace, explores with palpable joy. The sumptuous textural watercolor world she creates, which ranges from soft pastels to vibrant jewel-​toned hues (the red leaves on that giant, two-​page tree spread are chef’s kiss material!) is punctuated by Bear, the only cartoon element in each illustration described with a calligraphic line. As the book jacket explains, it was this conceptual image Corace created—of a girl surrounded by a bear—that formed the impetus for the book proper.

Corace has so much fun depicting Bear reading a book in a blanket fort (more great textures!) riding a bicycle, and jumping on a trampoline, that one can’t help but grin in appreciation. Her character and stage design have that quality of all the best children’s book illustrations: they are warm, inviting, approachable, and deceptively simple. Almost as if a child had done them, but a child with a master’s hand. It reminds us of the way we felt as children, and it makes it look easy.

Little touches–like the girl and Bear riding on the front of the shopping cart, clambering into a tree fort, flailing in water wings, or going to sleep with a night light–are all rendered in flattened perspectives. Overlapping watercolor elements and simplified backgrounds bring the childhood of our mind’s eye into a soft, sensitive focus.

A stroll through the artist’s website reveals there are many things about the imagery for this book that are motifs throughout her work. The little girl with the black bob haircut, the semi-​translucent textures, and the fanciful combinations of people and animals all make regular appearances. Corace’s work here is moodier than her children’s illustration, more akin to what might appear on an indie record’s album art.

What makes Bear Outside unique is not just the more whimsical palette–it’s how charmingly relatable the scenes are, and the humor that arises when the core personality of the narrator and the alter ego of Bear seem to vie for dominance. It makes you want to have such a bear in your life, and the beauty of the book’s message is that you can!

It’s a powerful, inspiring piece of children’s literature, simple to understand, but taking a complex topic like healthy self-​confidence, and making it impossible to forget.

5 out of 5 crayons

Octavia Saenz is an editor and cartoonist based in Brooklyn, NY who creates visual narratives about queer, Puerto Rican diaspora. Octavia grew up in Puerto Rico and has a BFA in Creative Writing and Illustration from Ringling College of Art and Design, as well as a Lambda Fellowship.

Find her on Twitter and Instagram: @shrimpwonder.

Austin McKinley makes comic books, cartoons, movies, video games, screenplays, novels and novellas through his company, Flying Car. He shot and appeared in the award-​winning feature documentary The New 8‑Bit Heroes alongside director Joe Granato. His comic illustrations have also been published by Image Shadowline, Devil’s Due/​1st Comics, Alias/​Blue Water Press, Avatar, Boom!, Blue King Studios, and FC9. He wrote and illustrated Squareasota, a weekly cartoon in the Sarasota Herald-​Tribune for seven years.
Most recently, he illustrated Tales of Mr. Rhee vol. 5: Rockstar Paranoia, a graphic novel for Source Point Press slated for spring 2021.

Picture Book Review: Outside, Inside by LeUyen Pham

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews1 Comment
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: Opening the Road: Victor Hugo Green and His Green Book by Keila V. Dawson

On By Only Picture BooksIn Picture Book Reviews
Author: Keila V. Dawson
Illustrator: Alleana Harris
Beaming Books
26 January 2021
40 pages

This month’s PB review is by Ryan G. Van Cleave (Amateur Travel Aficionado at Only Picture Books) and OPB newcomer Edna Cabcabin Moran.

–Ryan’s Review of the Writing–

In 1930s America, segregation was legal, and that meant Black Americans couldn’t do many of the things others could simply because they were Black. When New York mail carrier Victor Hugo Green found a guide for Jewish people that listed stores that sold kosher food, he got an idea. What if he put together his own guide that shared information about where Black Americans were safe and welcome?

Opening the Road tells the story of how Green got the idea, created the first guide, expanded it because of increasingly popular demand, and ultimately changed the lives of countless people because it offered Black people a list of safe places they could trust. He sold a lot of copies of his guide even before a national gas station chain started stocking it. Before long, the US government dubbed “The Green Book” an “official Negro travel guide.”

Green’s dream was that his guide would one day become obsolete, and in 1964, the US Congress “passed a law that made separating people by race illegal.” As a result, notes author Dawson, the 1966–67 Green Book was the very last edition ever published.

Dawson’s prose throughout the book is understated, which is an interesting choice considering the emotionally charged subject matter. Since the flip side is potential melodrama, it’s a tough balance to negotiate–no doubt about it. Another challenge nonfiction picture book authors face with subject matter like this is finding ways to engage children in a story that doesn’t feature children. Right on page one–as well as the cover–Victor Hugo Green is an adult. Perhaps what draws child readers are phrases like “a make-​do toilet” and “sold like hotcakes!” or Alleana Harris’ potent illustrations which show conflict via contrast in many pages.

I’ll let Edna explain what’s going on with the art, since that’s her expertise.

A two-​page Author’s Note supported by a two-​page timeline helps contextualize Victor Hugo Green’s life and historical contribution. It also connects this story to Black Lives Matter and includes a clear call to action to fight injustice.

Opening the Road is fundamentally about the power within all of us to make a difference and change the world. It’s a clear must-​have for public and school libraries. Adults who want another avenue to discuss the power of the human spirit to resist might find this an apt conversation starter, too.

4.25 out of 5 pencils

 

–Edna’s Review of the Illustrations–

The visual story of Victor Hugo Green and his Negro Motorist Green Book springs off the page in Keila V. Dawson’s Opening the Road thanks to illustrator Alleanna Harris’ intriguing combination of painterly and minimalist renderings. Harris’ keen digitally-​created melding of artistic expression and socio-​political references offers a frank, unsentimental, and impactful view of Black peoples’ experience in mid-​century America.

Harris’ illustrations open on a strong note. In the first double-​page spread, the bold shape of a two-​lane highway shown in one-​point perspective juts out from behind a minimally rendered car. Harris cleverly frames the faces of a frustrated Victor Hugo Green and his worried wife, Alma, with the simple form of a windshield. Through textural brushwork and thoughtful design, Harris sets a compelling stage for the Green Book’s inception and journey.

In subsequent pages, Harris composes painterly settings and deceivingly simple layouts that indicate a deeper narrative around Jim Crow rules: Long-​distance travelers, unable to stop at a highway café, continue down a lonely stretch of highway; a white girl and a Black girl, with their backs to one another, walk away from segregated water fountains stationed at the center of the double-​page spread; and in the first set of one-​page illustrations, an image of a Black driver being told to leave a “sundown town” is juxtaposed with an illustration of Black children being kept out of a playground. Each of these scenes is powerful on their own but in succession they form a gripping visual tale.

Harris’ work is reminiscent of the architectural and scenic treatments of mid-​century painter, Edward Hopper, as well as illustrative styles from the Little Golden Books of the same era. The first two-​thirds of illustrations for Opening the Road are marvelously executed, setting up an expectation of continued dynamic page design, engaging sequential narrative, and fully-​rendered paintings. Yet, the final double-​page spreads fall a bit short. The bottom sections repeat the pattern of images in the lower half of the page and text at the top, and there are no textural treatments or background elements to draw one’s eyes up and around the pages.

The scene depicting protestors in the bottom foreground of the spread is interesting but the digital technique of repeating the crowd and blurring them out is a departure from Harris’ painterly handling of background elements. Plus, the blurring calls attention to itself. In the page spread that follows, a gray-​haired woman sitting at a desk with Victor is placed in the bottom foreground, while the background is rendered with blue lines and light blue shading. The blue lines remind me of non-​photo blue pens and pencils used in sketching and art production. This treatment and style is yet another departure from Harris’ painterly renderings such as that shown in the kitchen table scene of Victor and Alma writing letters.

Overall, I enjoy Harris’ illustrations and narrative voice and would’ve appreciated the same consistency and dynamics of the early pages in the final spreads. For me, the layout and style choices are a missed opportunity at bringing the visual narrative full circle. Yet, I had a change of perspective on the last double-​page spread with its layout split in half by the illustration at the bottom and the text on top, against a paper-​white background. I wondered if the visual “questions” of the first spread were answered by the last spread. (This is based on a writing tip offered by acclaimed author, Jane Yolen—that good endings “answer” the questions in a story’s opening).

I came to appreciate that Harris does answer the opening spread with her depiction of a present-​day Black family (on the bottom half of the page) traveling in a car that “drives” to the right, into the future. The characters’ expressions are happy and hopeful, conveying Victor’s dream of “no Green Book for Black people.”

Lastly, nonfiction picture book backmatter often includes spot illustrations that add interest and round out the feeling of the book. The author notes pages are text-​heavy and devoid of images, so I am glad to see Harris’ charming illustrations in the fun timeline of the Negro Motorist Green Book.

4.25 out of 5 crayons

Edna Cabcabin Moran is an author/​illustrator, poet, arts educator, and hula dancer. Having been raised in the continental US east and west coasts, Iceland, and Hawai’i, Edna’s approach to storytelling and teaching is informed by her multicultural experiences and rooted in her arts-​integrative practices.

Edna’s latest picture book is Honu and Moa (BeachHouse Publishing), a Hawaiiana mash-​up of the Tortoise and The Hare and recipient of a 2019 Aesop Accolade.

https://kidlitedna.com