Alice Cary

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With The Tree of Life: Charles Darwin, award-winning children's author and illustrator Peter Sís offers a top-notch picture book biography for young readers. Sís, who has also written about Galileo and Columbus, says he aims to discover "the human element" behind each hero, and he succeeds here. He starts the story off with a bang, beginning on February 12, 1809: "Charles Darwin opens his eyes for the first time! He has no idea that he will (a) start a revolution when he grows up, (b) sail around the world on a five-year voyage, (c) spend many years studying nature, and (d) write a book that will change the world." How's that for an attention-grabbing opener?

Readers then learn how Darwin's mother died when he was eight, how his father wanted him to be a doctor, or failing that, a clergyman. Young Charles, however, preferred shooting, riding, collecting beetles and exploring the countryside. In fact, when Darwin was asked to voyage aboard the Beagle as a naturalist, his father objected, and only through the mediation of an uncle was he allowed to go. Sís seamlessly blends myriad details into the story and into his illustrations. For instance, it's remarkable to learn that aboard the Beagle, Darwin occasionally became seasick. Only lying in a hammock and eating raisins gave him comfort. He also grew tremendously homesick during the journey. Darwin once wrote that he wished he had learned to draw. But Sís draws as though he were Darwin, using text from the naturalist's writings, as well as maps and charts on each page.

Later in the book, Sís divides the naturalist's life into public, private and "secret" including his work on trying to prove his theories about evolution with all three categories appearing on the same page, so readers can quickly grasp how events coincide. In lesser hands, such cataloging might become dull, but Sís never loses sight of the magic of the man.

Finally, Sís never preaches he lets the details and the story speak strongly for themselves. Here is a book that will entertain and educate readers time after time.

Alice Cary is a contributing editor for Biography magazine.

With The Tree of Life: Charles Darwin, award-winning children's author and illustrator Peter Sís offers a top-notch picture book biography for young readers. Sís, who has also written about Galileo and Columbus, says he aims to discover "the human element" behind each hero,…

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A Tiger Called Thomas is a sweet story that climaxes on Halloween night, but it's much more than a holiday tale. First published in 1963 and re-illustrated here by Diana Cain Bluthenthal, this children's classic focuses on the heart how a boy named Thomas worries about making friends, and how a tiger costume helps him learn that he is, indeed, liked and known by all in his new neighborhood.

Young Thomas has moved into a new community, where he sees many interesting people, but he simply sits on his stoop, too shy to venture out, because he's afraid he won't be liked. He won't play with young Marie, or say hi to the lady with the black cat, and he's afraid to reach out to a lonely boy named Gerald.

Thomas sits and watches: "He watched the sparrows and the grackles and the blue jays in the trees. He watched the black cat look up at the sparrows and the grackles and blue jays. But he never went off the stoop to play." With lines like these, Charlotte Zolotow a legendary author as well as children's literature editor and publisher advances her story while showing what good writing is all about, even at the preschool level, even when nothing much is going on.

Everything changes for Thomas the night he puts on a tiger costume and goes trick-or-treating, no longer afraid of rejection because of his disguise. He is surprised that everywhere he goes, the neighbors seem to know him already. "That's funny," he says to himself. "She called the tiger Thomas." This goes on at every stop, until Thomas comes home. The story ends with a revelation for our hero: ”I guess they all like you,' his mother said. Thomas looked at her. Suddenly he felt wonderful." Diana Cain Bluthenthal has produced timeless drawings with a modern-day feel. Thomas himself is reminiscent of the lovely young boy in Ezra Jack Keats' classic, The Snowy Day. Bluthenthal brings interest to her simple illustrations by adding wonderful collage-like texture to the pictures. When is a Halloween story not a Halloween story? When it's by Charlotte Zolotow and the emotions and discoveries transcend the holiday. The tale of Thomas is treat enough for any reader.

A Tiger Called Thomas is a sweet story that climaxes on Halloween night, but it's much more than a holiday tale. First published in 1963 and re-illustrated here by Diana Cain Bluthenthal, this children's classic focuses on the heart how a boy named Thomas worries…

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Two Old Potatoes and Me is a lovely story about a father and daughter who plant two potatoes that they find growing sprouts in the back of a cupboard. "Gross," the girl proclaims, as she dumps the mess in the trash, but dad stops her, and soon the two set off for the garden. John Coy's text is a great how-to lesson on growing and caring for potato plants, with each step carefully explained. Carolyn Fisher's artwork is high-energy innovation, mixing media in ways that make white-purple potato sprouts and vivid green plants jump off the page. Fisher's dirt is so dark and textured you can practically feel it between your fingers. Coy covers every stage of the growing process, from weeding and composting in June, to picking potato beetles off the plants in July.

One important aspect of the story is nicely understated, though. The book begins with the words "Last spring at my dad's house," so careful readers surmise that the narrator's parents are divorced. The subject is mentioned one more time, as father and daughter sit in front of the garden in September, and the father inquires about his daughter's room at her mother's house. The girl replies that she and her mom have painted it periwinkle, and "You can see it on Friday when you pick me up." In a sweet response, the father says, "It will be Periwinkle Friday." Thus, families facing the issue of divorce can share the dilemma with Coy's characters and see how one parent and child forge ahead in new ways, growing together. On the other hand, readers simply interested in the gardening lesson won't be overwhelmed by the subtle divorce theme.

In the end, father and daughter sit side by side, happily digging into a bowl of mashed potatoes sprinkled with nutmeg for good luck. (There's also a recipe for mashing your own.) Two Old Potatoes and Me is all about being together as family members about growing and turning what you have into gold. In this case, Yukon Golds!

Alice Cary writes from Groton, Massachusetts.

Two Old Potatoes and Me is a lovely story about a father and daughter who plant two potatoes that they find growing sprouts in the back of a cupboard. "Gross," the girl proclaims, as she dumps the mess in the trash, but dad stops…

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Visit the Web site of author/illustrator Judith Byron Schachner, and she proclaims, I live in a constant state of third grade bliss making up stories and drawing pictures. Isn't that what we all did as children?" The same could be said for the heroine of her new book, Yo, Vikings!, a young girl named Emma who immerses herself in a world of imagination and drawing when she prepares a speech for her class' World Discovery Day about Erik the Red, the hot-tempered Icelandic explorer and founder of Greenland.

With the help of her young brother, Ollie, Emma heads to the library, where a kindly librarian named Mr. Sigurd guides her research. Suddenly Emma's mind and journals are filled with Vikings, runes, swords and sailing ships. One day, she discovers that an actual Viking ship is for sale, so she and Ollie pool their money and baseball cards to try to purchase the artifact. They send off a letter and wait patiently for a reply. Meanwhile, Emma tells all her friends that she is going to get the ship for her birthday. Her pals are used to her wild tales and simply call this latest Viking voodoo." I won't spoil the ending, but I assure you that this book perfect for elementary school children is a superb blend of imagination and reality. Emma's enthusiastic undertaking of the school project is just the sort of approach to a history assignment that every youngster should have. In fact, Schachner reveals that she was inspired to write this story by an actual Viking ship that somehow ended up in her own backyard (she doesn't say how), becoming the site for many wonderful hours of fun and learning for her two daughters. Schachner's characters have beautiful, realistic features with big eyes and round faces that lend a certain old-fashioned air to her art. Yet her colors and details are lively and modern, practically swirling off the page with enough humor and intrigue to keep a sophisticated young audience spellbound. There are countless picture books for very young readers, but not as many for a slightly older audience. This is a book that caters to the older crowd with intelligence and fun.

This year my son enters third grade. I'm hoping he'll be inspired by Emma and her gung-ho approach to exploring history. Yo, Judith Byron Schachner!

Alice Cary writes from Groton, Massachusetts.

Visit the Web site of author/illustrator Judith Byron Schachner, and she proclaims, I live in a constant state of third grade bliss making up stories and drawing pictures. Isn't that what we all did as children?" The same could be said for the heroine of…

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It’s rare that two greats come together, but when they do, the results can be magical. For years Maurice Sendak had hoped to collaborate with his dear friend, writer and illustrator James Marshall. He finally got his chance, but, sadly, work didn’t begin until after Marshall’s death in 1992. Marshall, the author of numerous classics such as the George and Martha books, left behind an unpublished manuscript called Swine Lake. It’s a comical story of a wolf who attends the ballet in hopes of devouring its porcine performers but becomes so enchanted that he joins them onstage and receives rave reviews.

Now, years later, Sendak has completed the illustrations, and HarperCollins has released Swine Lake, which very well might be a new classic from two giants of children’s literature.

Such a plot was a natural for both men, who often attended the theater together. Sendak has been a stage fan since his childhood, and, in addition to writing and illustrating, has been designing sets and costumes for operas and ballets since 1970. He founded The Night Kitchen, a national theater company, to develop children’s productions, and is currently collaborating with choreographer Twyla Tharp on a full-length ballet for children.

"The story was perfect," Sendak says from his Connecticut home. "I’ve done a big ballet and a small ballet, and I know how to make professionally fun of it. I know where it’s silly, and I know where it’s wonderful. And all of Jim’s ballet scenes were deliriously funny."

Despite the many pluses, Sendak found the project hard to begin. The initial problem was Sendak’s sadness over losing his friend. "He is a great man gone," Sendak says. " I don’t think there are many in the profession who were Jim Marshall. I so much admired his work and treasured his friendship." But once Sendak felt ready to tackle the work, fright set in. " It scared me, he confesses, because this was not a picture book. Jim had done more story books than picture books, and I’m used to much fewer words and more amplification of images than he was permitting me. So I got worried about how to divvy up the book, and where the dramatic moments were. But I found that when I got to do the dummy, happily, I had been thinking about it more than I thought, which often happens. It began to fall into place." Sendak also credits editor Michael di Capua and designer Cynthia Krupat (the greatest designer living, Sendak says), who had both worked with Marshall, for successful progress on the book.

"I don’t think anybody outside the business understands the complexity of collaboration between the editor and the designer and the printer," Sendak explains. "So many people are part of this, and I end up having my name on the book, but they don’t."

Sendak’s tributes to Marshall are evident throughout, such as a newspaper bearing the title of one of his friend’s masterpieces, The Stupids Die. "That’s the only thing I truly envy Jim for," Sendak laments. " Deep envy. I think The Stupids Die is the best title ever. I can’t forgive him for having that title. I used to tell him that. I bought the original poster for the book, and it hangs in one of my rooms." Sendak adds that he put as much Jim-ianna in the book as possible, as a way of expressing his deep love for him and respect for his work. "I stole things from Jim," he elaborates, "like putting the pigs’ eyes close together. I would just faint from laughter every time I saw the way he drew those eyes—you know the way Prince Charles’s eyes are almost like a Cyclops. I’ve always been a vigorous thief, but I’ve always felt that if you steal, you’ve got to turn it into you. If you just steal, then you’re nothing but a lousy crook."

Indeed, Sendak added many of his own touches, including numerous puns and comic references in his artwork, such as naming the theater the New Hamsterdam and a newspaper headline announcing "Titanic IX Bombs at Box Office." What’s more, under Sendak’s direction the wolf became part of a new subplot, evolving as a down-on-his-luck character who lives in squalor yet yearns for culture and the theater.

In fact, the wolf took on a distinct personality of his own, that of Sendak’s dog, to be precise. While Sendak was working on the book, he adopted a 17-month-old German shepherd who had been abandoned. Several pages into the book, Sendak says, the wolf turns into his dog, taking on his facial expressions and behavior.

Sendak hedges when asked the dog’s name, then explains that the animal already had a name when he adopted him; Sendak doesn’t like the name, but the dog wouldn’t answer to anything else.

In short, his dog is named Max, just like the hero of Where the Wild Things Are.

"To think I’d be so fatuous as to name my dog after that character," Sendak scoffs. Yet both the wolf and Max the literary character are plagued by conflicting yearnings while Max struggles between being a good boy and a wild thing, the wolf vacillates between being an art lover and a pork chomper.

Have the two learned a lesson by the end of each book?

Sendak practically snorts. " I promise you that two days later Max is going to wreck his house all over again," he says. " I never wrote a book where I taught a lesson. And the wolf is going to eat those pigs eventually. He just doesn’t do it in this book." Sendak says it’s much easier to illustrate books written by others than to illustrate his own because his gestate forever. When asked whether one of his own is in the works, he says, "I am pregnant, but it hasn’t kicked yet."

Nonetheless, his pens and paints have been far from neglected. A year or so ago he illustrated a novel by Herman Melville, Pierre, and he’s just illustrated a play called Penthesilea by the late great German playwright Heinrich von Kleist. He plans to work on two more children’s books, a reissue of Bears, by Ruth Krauss, and an unpublished lullaby found among the papers of Margaret Wise Brown.

Involved with books, theater, ads for Bell Atlantic, and work with animators, Sendak is extraordinarily busy. Luckily for his many fans, he says, "Although I’m getting old, my curiosity is strangely young, and I can’t shut it up."

Alice Cary writes from her home in Groton, Massachusetts.

It's rare that two greats come together, but when they do, the results can be magical. For years Maurice Sendak had hoped to collaborate with his dear friend, writer and illustrator James Marshall. He finally got his chance, but, sadly, work didn't begin until after…

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Many have likened novelist Anne Rivers Siddons to Margaret Mitchell, a comparison that prompts a chuckle in Siddons, the author of such blockbusters as Outer Banks, Colony, and Peachtree Road. "We don't write remotely about the same thing," Siddons says, only to reconsider, "Well, she wrote about the profound loss of one society and the need to live in another one, and I have too a little bit, but we really are not the same. I guess it's because we're both from Atlanta and we both write long books."

However, they won't be from the same city for long. In November, Siddons, her husband, and their four cats will move from Atlanta to the heart of historic Charleston, South Carolina. "It's an enormous move," Siddons admits. "I have lived in this area for seven generations and in this house for 30 years. I may end up in Prozac City. Who knows? We have lots of friends in Charleston, but it's going to be an enormous shock."

Readers can get a hearty helping of the Charleston vicinity in Siddons's latest book, a page-turner called Low Country, about the perennial war between natural beauty and coastal development.

Low Country's heroine, Caroline Venable, has one precious thing left in her life: a pristine island inherited from her grandfather. In addition to the family cottage, it's home to a small Gullah settlement, a band of wild ponies, and other wildlife, including a mysterious panther. Caroline's husband, Clay, has made a fortune developing resort communities in various locales, but when his empire faces bankruptcy, he is convinced that financial salvation lies in developing Caroline's island. For Caroline, this is unacceptable, which means she must face one of the biggest challenges of her life.

The seeds for the plot were born years ago when Siddons worked as a copywriter for the first island resort on Hilton Head, South Carolina. "I watched the land turn from almost primeval forest to what it is now, which is Manhattan South," Siddons remembers. "It isn't that any developer sets out to ruin a place, it's just that even the best and most ecologically sensitive plan requires something fragile to be lost. I have always wanted to write about this clash."

Once Siddons knew she was moving to Charleston, she began spending a lot of time in the surrounding islands, especially in the vicinity of Ace Basin. Describing the area as primeval, she says: "It's a real experience to go out on a warm summer night. You come back thinking you've been back to the dawn of the millennium. It's one of the wildest places I've ever seen. And the idea that someone might build a Disney World-type place there is just abhorrent. I really would like to do what I can to help the area stay intact."

Specifically, she applauds the efforts of a group called the Carolina Coastal Conservancy for buying and preserving large tracts of wetlands. Meanwhile, she preserves the feel of such natural treasures in her fiction, having Caroline, who has faced great tragedy in her life, find solace on her island, where she is free to relax and paint.

Ironically, when Siddons herself seeks peace, she heads north instead of south, to a peninsula on Maine's Penobscot Bay, a summer retreat that's been in her husband's family for years. "I'm very drawn to that severe, cold, rocky beach [of New England]," Siddons says, "and I'm equally drawn to that blood-warm water [of the South]. But I'm never so happy as I am on the waters of Maine. I have a sense that whatever is looming or bothersome can be put off until I get home. Also, it's physically a long way from any other entanglements I may have, so if anybody gets upset and needs to be comforted, it had better be good."

Why do islands have such prominent roles in her novels? "I think it's the idea that they're totally apart from the world," Siddons explains. "An island has some sort of magnetic pull. It makes all these promises that it will keep you safe and nurture you. Of course this is not true, but I still never sleep as soundly as I do on an island or on our little peninsula in Maine."

Caroline, like several of the author's heroines, risks losing the core of her existence. "I think my heroines will always be ordinary women who have made a journey," Siddons says. "Maybe it doesn't happen so totally and drastically to most of us, but I haven't seen many women fall into middle age without losing something that has always been a very important part of their lives, and either having to make a life around that, or find a way to go on, or change in order to go on. It seems to me that women are left to do the changing and accommodating."

Siddons's own transforming journey occurred 15 years ago, when she battled severe depression that lasted three years, leaving her unable to write. "It was mostly a matter of brain chemistry, but I didn't know what it was. It was totally crippling. I could hardly exist. We finally found a drug that worked and a wonderful woman therapist. It felt like one of those things you either survive or you don't — there aren't too many in-betweens."

Finally, she had an idea for a book, and slowly, hesitantly, began to write. "If I couldn't write, it would have killed me," she says, "but I had to try." The result was Homeplace, followed by a string of additional bestsellers.

Siddons has not only survived, but flourished. She excitedly talks about the prospect of moving into the antique Charleston single house, which is one room wide, two stories high, and about eight rooms deep. "The idea of living in a city with that kind of resonance and beauty is so exciting," she muses. "I feel spoiled to be able to keep that much of everything I love about the South. It's like a fairy tale."

Alice Cary writes from her home in Groton, Massachusetts.

Many have likened novelist Anne Rivers Siddons to Margaret Mitchell, a comparison that prompts a chuckle in Siddons, the author of such blockbusters as Outer Banks, Colony, and Peachtree Road. "We don't write remotely about the same thing," Siddons says, only to reconsider, "Well, she…

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"If you live and pay attention," says writer Julia Alvarez, "life gives you so much to write about." Alvarez has indeed been paying attention. As a child, she and her family fled the Dominican Republic to escape the harsh dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo (her father had secretly been involved in the underground). Many miles and many years later, she speaks from an office at Middlebury College in Vermont, where she is writer-in-residence and the author of books for both adults and children, such as the award-winning How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, In the Time of the Butterflies and Something to Declare.

Her latest is Return to Sender, a novel for nine- to 12-year-olds about a sixth-grade boy on a Vermont farm who befriends the daughter of undocumented Mexican workers.

Alvarez and her husband live on their own small farm, along with cows, rabbits, chickens and a new barn. She speaks on the day before America’s presidential election, prompting her to muse, "When I get to vote, I get weepy. I know what it costs to get to this. Members of my family died so I could have this day."

When 10-year-old Alvarez and her family arrived in New York City in 1960, books and later writing became her ticket to freedom. "We had landed in this land that I had always heard was the home of the free and the brave, but I didn’t find it very friendly at all," Alvarez remembers. "The kids on the playground called me ‘spic,’ they made fun of my accent, and they told me to go back to where I had come from." 

Salvation came in the form of reading, guided by teachers and a librarian—and reading was something new. "I came from an oral culture," she says. "I was surrounded by the world’s greatest storytellers, but we were not readers. I never saw my mother or father reading a book."

Eventually, Alvarez became a writer, realizing that there were some stories only she could tell. She says her books usually start with what she calls "the pebble in my shoe." "It’s something that I try to shake," she elaborates, "but I keep going back over it. It’s usually something that has unsettled me."

Return to Sender began when a farmer brought a Mexican farm worker in to see her husband, an ophthalmologist. Alvarez and her husband soon discovered that undocumented Mexicans were doing most of the milking on the dairy farms in their county. They met some of these workers, and Alvarez was asked to help with a schoolgirl who didn’t know enough English to communicate with her teachers or classmates.

Certainly Alvarez could relate—on more than one level. She notes: "It’s not just down in the border states that [immigration] is an issue. It’s reached Vermont, and it’s so much the issue of our times: mass movements of people from one place to another. As we globalize, people become aware of other opportunities and possibilities, and want to create a new story for themselves—and therefore leave everything to remake their story."

As Alvarez began to help out in the classroom, she realized that not only was the Mexican girl disoriented, but so were her classmates. Over time the children befriended each other, until the girl suddenly returned to Mexico with an aunt, while her parents continued to work in Vermont.

"The kids were really traumatized that their classmate had disappeared," Alvarez explains. "This doesn’t happen in their United States, that somebody disappears because they’re not supposed to be here, and their parents could be rounded up and they would be deported and put in holding. All of this can be very troubling stuff in fourth and fifth grade. And I thought that we need a story to understand what’s happening to us."

Return to Sender tells this tale from both sides, using the voices of Tyler, a Vermont farm boy, and Mari, who was born in Mexico and now lives in a trailer as her dad and uncle work on Tyler’s family farm. Tyler’s father was injured in a tractor accident and can no longer handle the daily chores by himself. Mari’s mother has been missing for nearly a year, and Mari and her sisters aren’t sure if she is dead or alive. Their mother returned to Mexico when her own mother was ill, but she hasn’t been heard from since attempting to secretly cross the border to return to the U.S.

Does Alvarez worry about introducing such heavy concepts to young readers?

"I’m not just a writer," she replies. "I’ve also been an educator for three decades. And a story protects us in a way. In a sense, it’s a safe world in which to consider what’s going to hit you broadside in the real world. You give kids the things that are bombarding them in their real lives, but it’s within a safe context. It gives them a way to navigate through the world."

Alvarez navigated herself through many different parts of the U.S. early in her career, working as what she calls a "migrant writer," teaching poetry wherever grant funding was available, including Kentucky, California, Delaware, North Carolina and Massachusetts. Now that she’s settled in New England, she still travels to the Dominican Republic about six times a year, to see family and to visit Café Alta Gracia, a 60-acre coffee farm that she and her husband own.

"The mountains here in Vermont remind me of the mountains of the Dominican Republic where we have our farm," she says. "We don’t have winter there, of course, but the lush greenness of the mountains and a certain kind of accessible mentality—there’s something that’s very simpatico about the Vermont culture and my Dominican culture."

Although Julia Alvarez has found a place to call home, she continues to write about people caught between cultures. "Displacement is just part of the human story," she says. "You don’t have to be an immigrant to write about that, because we’ve all felt it."

"If you live and pay attention," says writer Julia Alvarez, "life gives you so much to write about." Alvarez has indeed been paying attention. As a child, she and her family fled the Dominican Republic to escape the harsh dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo (her…

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Eve Bunting wants to spread an important message: picture books aren't just for tots anymore.

As the author of more than 150 books, Bunting has written something for every age group — everything from young adult novels to picture books, on subjects ranging from homelessness (Fly Away Home), a modern-day look at a Civil War battlefield (The Blue and the Gray), the Irish village of Maghera where she was born (Market Day), and Smoky Night, about the Los Angeles riots, illustrated by David Diaz and winner of a Caldecott Medal.

Plenty of Bunting's books are pure fun and joy, such as Sunflower House, Scary, Scary Halloween, Dog Detective, or the forthcoming Ducky, about a yellow plastic duck. Bunting notes, however, that titles addressing what she calls "tender topics" such as poverty and racial prejudice seem to get the most attention from reviewers and readers.

"Editors are brave," she says. "I may have had books turned down because they're not good, but I've never had one turned down because it was saying something some people might consider not suitable for children."

The roots of her social consciousness date back to her childhood in Ireland. "I was aware that there was discrimination," she recalls, "although I didn't know there was anything to be done about it." She remembers that Protestant children like herself weren't supposed to play with Catholics, although her parents encouraged her friendship with a Catholic girl. Later, political and religious "troubles" between the two denominations helped convince Bunting and her husband to emigrate to the United States in 1958 with their three young children.

"We had it pretty hard at the beginning," Bunting says of their move. "At least we spoke the same language. But I do feel I'm entitled to write about migrant workers and immigrants."

Success came to the young Irish mother a few years after the family settled in California, where she continues to live. Feeling homesick and in need of diversion, she enrolled in a community college course in creative writing.

Her first published books were retellings of Irish folk tales. Since then she's branched out in diverse directions, even writing a few nonfiction books about whales and sharks for Sea World in San Diego. The nonfiction work was an exception — Bunting's chief interest is "telling a good story." She begins to write after an idea hits her with a "jolt."

Despite her many interests and concerns, however, some subjects are too much for her. For instance, when one editor confided that she'd like to have a picture book about child abuse, Bunting replied, "I just couldn¹t because my stomach wouldn't allow me to do that." And when a parent asked her to write about the Oklahoma bombing, Bunting said she couldn't tackle the tragedy.

How, then, do ideas jolt her? Recently, inspiration struck in a San Jose museum, where Bunting's daughter had taken her to see a mummy collection, a subject that had long been of interest. "I remember looking at one mummy and thinking, 'Once you were beautiful.' That was the beginning of an idea."

The fruit of the extensive research that followed is I Am the Mummy HEB-NEFERT, illustrated by David Christiana. This picture book with spare, lyrical text is a prime example of one written for older children, ages 7-12. Heb-Nefert, whose name means "beautiful dancer," tells the story of a mummy¹s life and death, how the woman once was the adored wife of a pharaoh's brother and how she came to lie wrapped in ancient linen, under glass in a museum, for all to see.

"When I finished," Bunting recalls, "I asked my editor if we'd get into trouble for saying to young people that you too will die. She said, 'What's wrong with that?' "

Bunting tells Heb-Nefert's tale so convincingly that a Canadian publisher and Egyptologist told Bunting that she must have lived in Egypt in a previous life. "She was absolutely serious," Bunting says. "She said that book is written as though you were living there and you knew every detail. I told the publisher that while I was writing, I was.

"I've led a few lives in my time," Bunting adds, laughing. One was aboard a sinking ship, as evidenced by her novel SOS Titanic, inspired by a visit to the Belfast Museum of Transport. Her husband's father and uncle both worked in the shipyard where the ocean liner was built. At the museum, a commemorative exhibit helped Bunting and other visitors feel as though they were in lifeboats, gazing at the sinking ship.

"I stood there and watched that ship in its death throe," Bunting recalls. "I felt almost as if I had been there. It was breathtaking. I started writing the book while I was still visiting Ireland."

Although many such endeavors require meticulous research, surprisingly, Bunting calls herself "an unstructured person." "My files are a mess," she confesses. "I always have a moment's panic when someone asks me to find something. And I'm not structured about my working habits, not at all. . . . I don't have set hours for work. I don't really make myself work if I don't want to. Fortunately for me," she adds, "I usually want to."

Her favorite format is the picture book. "My daughter says that's because I like instant gratification," she says, "and maybe that's true. I love to be able to say what I want to say succinctly."

And say it she does, with such productivity that it's difficult to keep track of each book. Also new this spring is Bunting's On Call Back Mountain. A collaboration with National Book Award-winning painter Barry Moser, it is the story of two boys who live with their parents at the foot of a mountain with a fire tower and their friend Bosco, an old man who returns each summer to work as lookout in the tower. The story of their friendship, of looking for wolves that have disappeared after a forest fire a few years ago, and of Bosco's sudden death is both realistic and a beautiful credit to the human spirit. Bunting's words and Moser's art capture the emotional rhythm of the story in an unforgettable combination.

One of several forthcoming will be a Christmas story called December, published by Harcourt Brace and another collaboration with David Diaz, which Bunting says Diaz describes as "his best work yet."

As for her own achievements, the ever-modest Bunting says, "I have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams," she says. "My success has been a constant surprise. I often think 'How can all these things happen to this little kid from Maghera?' "

Alice Cary writes from Groton, Massachusetts.

 

Eve Bunting wants to spread an important message: picture books aren't just for tots anymore.

As the author of more than 150 books, Bunting has written something for every age group -- everything from young adult novels to picture books, on subjects ranging from homelessness (Fly…

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No one can deny that Child of My Heart is an important novel for Alice McDermott. Readers have been waiting for a follow-up since she won the National Book Award for Charming Billy in 1998. McDermott, however, isn't one to be ruffled by all the hoopla that descended upon her after the award or the resulting pressure to publish.

She's got more pressing, day-to-day worries: a fourth-grade son, a 15-year-old daughter, a 17-year-old son, their homework, after-school activities, a neuroscientist husband, a house to run in Bethesda, Maryland, and writing seminars to teach at the Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.

Despite all this, McDermott is easy to talk to and, yes, completely charming. She seems a woman who can be relied on to remain calm and resolute amid almost any storm.

Certainly a storm of publicity rained upon her when she won the National Book Award, a big surprise to many in the literary world, who expected Tom Wolfe to walk away with the honor for A Man in Full. McDermott was so unassuming she didn't even have an acceptance speech prepared.

But then, lots of things happen unexpectedly for McDermott—like her latest novel. The author is quick to admit that Child of My Heart isn't the novel she intended to publish. She was working on two other books, as is her habit (if one isn't going well, she'll switch to another). And then September 11 happened.

As for many of us, McDermott found the world as she knew it turned upside down. Gradually, she started to write again, abandoning the two books she had been working on and launching a new project. Child of My Heart took only six months to complete.

"This was definitely the fastest I've ever written a book," she says. "I had the voice," she adds, and the words came pouring out. The voice belonged to a teenage girl, but McDermott didn't quite know how to categorize what she was writing. "At first I wasn't sure what this was: a short story, a novella, a novel."

Then her longtime agent, Harriet Wasserman—to whom the book is dedicated—stepped in. "I have a wonderful agent who has been by my side my whole publishing career," McDermott explains. Wasserman asked what she was working on, heard her discuss the story, demanded to see the manuscript and decided to publish it right away. McDermott remembers sitting in New York with Wasserman and having her shuffle through the pages, deciding immediately on the title by pointing to a phrase that appears early in the novel.

The book is definitely a child of McDermott's heart, and in the aftermath of 9/11, it's a story about mothering and nurturing, as well as the absence of those things. While nothing in the book is related to terrorist events, many of the themes seem to make sense when viewed from those shadows.

Child of My Heart takes place in East Hampton during a long-ago summer, a season of innocence, comfort and change. There's a pervading sense of melancholy—a sadness that appears in much of her writing, McDermott admits, despite her exceedingly cheerful demeanor. With no chapter divisions and few breaks, the novel reads much like a long short story, a sort of time capsule of a forgotten summer. Unlike her previous novels, it's a purely chronological narrative, but like the previous books, it's all about memory and storytelling.

"Yes, the story really did come out chronologically," McDermott says, "which is also very unusual for me." McDermott shares several traits with her protagonist, a smart, literary 15-year-old named Theresa, the only child of doting parents who left the city so their daughter might have better opportunities in life. (McDermott was born in Brooklyn in 1953, the daughter of first-generation Irish Catholics who later moved to Long Island.) Theresa is named after a saint, and she definitely has saintly qualities. As she explains in the book's first sentence, she is a nurturer: "I had in my care that summer four dogs, three cats, the Moran kids, Daisy, my eight-year-old cousin; and Flora, the toddler child of a local artist."

Theresa, Daisy and Flora form the heart of the novel. Daisy is the ignored and resented middle child of a big Irish family, who is further plagued by ceaseless bruises and an ongoing fever that no adult notices. McDermott acknowledges that Child of My Heart shows the influence of many of her favorite writers. First and foremost is Nabokov and Lolita, as Theresa becomes Lolita to young Flora's father, a famous, aging painter at the end of his career.

"This was a great opportunity for me to pay homage to some of my favorite writers, especially Nabokov. I think of this book as how Lolita herself might have told the story," McDermott explains, adding, "It's also a story that's all about high summer and enchantment.

But all is not fun and games as Theresa's budding sexuality takes control of her relationship with Flora's father. McDermott admits with a laugh that even she, the mother of a teenage girl, became a bit uncomfortable with the way the plot unfolded at times. "My daughter hasn't read the whole thing yet," she says, apparently thankful.

Just as she didn't plan to write this novel, McDermott didn't exactly plan her literary career. She wrote plenty of skits as a student in Catholic schools, and her mother always encouraged her to write down anything that was bothering her. Nonetheless, she claims she wasn't a particularly good student and chose to attend the State University of New York in Oswego only because she heard it was a good party school.

After graduation, McDermott went to work as a typist for a vanity publisher. Later she received a graduate degree in writing from the University of New Hampshire, and the faculty there put her in touch with Wasserman, her agent. In 1982, Random House published her first book, A Bigamist's Daughter, a novel about an editor at a vanity publisher who falls in love with a Southern author.

Today, after two decades of success as a novelist, McDermott remains gentle and approachable, unlikely to intimidate. Asked, for instance, whether she belongs to a book group ("yes") and what they are reading, she doesn't spout literary theory or try to sound scholarly. Instead, she replies, "Oh, just the same things other fourth-grade moms are reading."

When told that many will soon be flocking to read Child of My Heart, she says with heartfelt gratitude: "Thank goodness for book groups!"

 

Writer and outdoor enthusiast Alice Cary is the author of Parents' Guide to Hiking and Camping.

No one can deny that Child of My Heart is an important novel for Alice McDermott. Readers have been waiting for a follow-up since she won the National Book Award for Charming Billy in 1998. McDermott, however, isn't one to be ruffled by all the…

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"I think I've been writing this book since I was in the third grade," says Kathi Appelt of her new picture-book biography, Miss Lady Bird's Wildflowers: How a First Lady Changed America.

While growing up in Houston, Appelt often helped her grandmother an ardent Democrat at party headquarters, especially during the Lyndon Johnson presidential campaign. "My grandmother was so fond of Lady Bird," Appelt recalls. "She felt that Lady Bird was the epitome of a Southern woman. She loved her, even though they never met."

Later, as an adult, Appelt realized how influential Lady Bird had been. Speaking to BookPage from her home in College Station, Texas, Appelt noted that "Lady Bird is a tiny woman, very quiet. As diminutive as she is physically, she made a huge difference." An advocate for the environment, Lady Bird had a special love for wildflowers, and she worked to preserve them first in her home state of Texas, and later through the Highway Beautification Act, passed by Congress in 1965 after Lady Bird went head-to-head with the billboard lobby. "If you look at First Ladies," Appelt says, "nobody has impacted legislation the way that Lady Bird did . . . none of them with the exception, perhaps, of Eleanor Roosevelt." Ironically, when Appelt proposed her picture book five years ago, her editor said she was interested, but commented that a college intern in the office didn't know who Lady Bird was.

Even those who are familiar with Lady Bird might be surprised to learn about her dramatic childhood. Born in 1912 in an East Texas mansion, Claudia Taylor earned her unusual nickname from a nanny who called her "purty as a lady bird" (which happens to be a colorful beetle). When the little girl was five, her mother fell down the mansion's grand stairway and subsequently died from blood poisoning. After her mother's death, Claudia's father often took his little girl along to his general store, but when he had to work late, she slept upstairs on a cot beside the coffins he sold. Thankfully, her father soon sent for her Aunt Effie to help.

Appelt discovered so many rich details in Lady Bird's childhood that they threatened to take over the book. "You can't imagine how much I took out," she recalls. "[Her childhood] was so interesting that I just hated to cut." As a result, she admits, "It's my most heavily revised book ever. I think I probably rewrote it 50 times." Appelt was overjoyed to collaborate with her good friend, Joy Fisher Hein, as illustrator. Hein is a certified Texas Master Naturalist, an accomplishment that definitely came in handy for this project. Her lavish illustrations brim not only with wildflowers, but also with the Texas swamps of Lady Bird's childhood, a vibrant Mexican scene from her honeymoon and the cherry blossoms that adorn Washington, D.C., every spring. "Joy's love is wildflowers," Appelt says. "The details and her exquisite attention to small things are what make the book so beautiful."

At the end of the book is a helpful page identifying various wildflowers, as well as a page about the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin. Both author and illustrator visited the center and did extensive research. Although they didn't meet their subject (Lady Bird, now 92, has suffered a stroke and no longer gives interviews), the former first lady sent a letter after she saw a proof of the book. "She very graciously thanked us and said she loved the book," the author notes.

Appelt has written many children's books, several books of poetry and short stories, but now she's trying her hand as something new an animal fantasy for middle-grade readers. She is tentative about the book in these early writing stages, but chuckles when asked about her popular, hilarious Bubba and Beau series, three picture books illustrated by Arthur Howard. The books feature very short chapters guaranteed not only to make preschoolers cry for more, but also to leave adult readers chuckling. Three more Bubba and Beau adventures are under contract, Appelt reports, and the next will likely feature her Down-South duo going trick-or-treating. "I would love to write nothing but Bubba and Beau," Appelt admits, "because I have so much fun writing them."

Alice Cary's favorite place to see wildflowers is beside mountain trails.

"I think I've been writing this book since I was in the third grade," says Kathi Appelt of her new picture-book biography, Miss Lady Bird's Wildflowers: How a First Lady Changed America.

While growing up in Houston, Appelt often helped her grandmother…

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Every time Suzanne Fisher Staples hears about fighting in Afghanistan, she worries. I wonder about people I have known, she says. I always hope they are safe. Her latest book for young readers, the deeply touching novel Under the Persimmon Tree, is set in Afghanistan and Pakistan, countries she knows well. She worked for 10 years as a reporter for United Press International, based in Hong Kong and then India, and later spent four years in Pakistan on assignment for the United States Agency for International Development (USAID). No doubt some reviewers will compare Under the Persimmon Tree to Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner, the bestseller set in Afghanistan, Pakistan and America. Staples says she loves Hosseini’s novel, adding, The Kite Runner gives you an idea of the suffering of people no matter what class they come from, and this very ancient Persian sensibility that is so beautiful and so essentially Afghan. Staples first visited Afghanistan in the late 1970s, just before the Russian invasion. I left the region in 1982, she says, and have been haunted by the plight of the Afghan people, the terrible suffering they have endured ever since. After returning to the States, she began writing young adult novels. Not surprisingly, much of her fiction takes place in lands where she once lived and reported: Shiva’s Fire is set in India, while Newbery Honor-winning Shabanu and its sequel, Haveli, are set in Pakistan. Staples discovered that writing fiction was a way to deal with the many incidents she witnessed during her reporting years. It’s a funny thing, she says, I think when you’re a newspaper reporter, you really have to set your emotional reactions aside to be effective. My way was saying, well, I’ll sort this out later. Under the Persimmon Tree began as a short story for a young adult collection called 911: The Book of Help Authors Respond to the Tragedy (Open Court). On September 11, 2001, Staples was already immersed in her own family tragedy her mother had just died at midnight, and she was on the phone with a funeral director when her brother told her to look at the television. She spent much of the next 18 months lecturing about the areas of the world that were suddenly in the headlines.

She also started writing. I set aside the stories people told me about living in a war zone, Staples says, a war that they didn’t want and that they felt no personal connection to aside from the fact that it was destroying their land and taking away everything they had. By the end of the story, she realized she had the skeleton for a novel. Under the Persimmon Tree alternates between two narrators: Najmah, a young Afghan girl whose father and brother are unwillingly taken away by the Taliban to fight, and whose mother and newborn brother are blown up in an air raid. She makes her way to Pakistan, where she meets Nusrat, an American woman married to an Afghan doctor who is missing. While the book is fiction, Staples says most if not all of the incidents are based on stories Afghans told her, including the story of a young girl who witnessed the death of her mother and brother.

She gathered much literary fodder while working in Pakistan with USAID and interviewing women. Staples recalls, At the end of the day we would sit down and build a fire and prepare a meal and eat, and afterward, while the fire was dying down, they would tell stories. They told me extraordinary stories about themselves, and the stories were sometimes mixed with mythology. I realized that Americans really need to hear these stories. Staples now works in a more bucolic setting, on a piece of Pennsylvania farmland where she and her husband recently built a new home. Does she miss her reporting days? You know, there’s not very much of me that misses it. For one thing, I’m older. I’ll be 60 this year and I know that we’re not invincible. And now that I’ve been writing fiction for a while, I realize that I’m so much better suited to writing fiction. What interests me most is basic human motivations. I think that we all have the same motivations, but we all have different circumstances.

Every time Suzanne Fisher Staples hears about fighting in Afghanistan, she worries. I wonder about people I have known, she says. I always hope they are safe. Her latest book for young readers, the deeply touching novel Under the Persimmon Tree, is set in Afghanistan…
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Paula Danziger owes a slice of her success to a pizza party. Her popular books about Amber Brown were inspired by a phone conversation with her then seven-year-old niece, Carrie, who was obviously upset.

"She was a crazed person," Danziger remembers.
"Aunt, we're having a pizza party at school," Carrie told her.
"Calm down," Danziger said. "You've had pizza before. What's really going on?"
"It's a going-away party for my best friend, Danny," Carrie confessed.

The result of that exchange was Amber Brown Is Not a Crayon, about Amber and her very best friend Justin, who is about to move. The feisty, pigtailed heroine has taken on a life of her own ever since, and young readers can now find this title in paperback. The latest installment is Amber Brown Goes Fourth, in which Amber enters fourth grade and looks for a new best friend. Next month Amber Brown Wants Extra Credit will be published, and more of her adventures are in the works.

Danziger's niece, now 13, is sometimes embarrassed by her literary counterpart, especially her hair. Carrie notes that the Amber shown on the cover of the paperback editions "has split ends," and, frankly, "shouldn't be wearing those stupid pigtails in the fourth grade."

In response, Danziger may grant Amber a haircut in a future book. Unfortunately, the new do will be "a bad one," she adds. Of course, Amber has always been wise beyond her years. Danziger originally envisioned her story in picture book form, but during the revision process discovered that it needed an older voice. As a result, the novels are chapter books for beginning readers, an audience often neglected in the publishing world.

Even Danziger has a literary counterpart in the series in the form of Amber's pal and confidante, Aunt Pam. The second book, You Can't Eat Your Chicken Pox, Amber Brown took off after Danziger invited her niece to London and Carrie came down with—well, you guessed it.

Despite the many real-life details tucked into the fiction, there are important differences between Carrie and Amber. Carrie's parents remain happily married, while Amber's have divorced. What's more, Amber is an only child; Carrie has three brothers, who have given Danziger literary fuel for other books.

While much lies in store for Amber, Danziger has vowed never to write about her niece after she graduates from sixth grade. "It just gets too complicated after that," Danziger says. "It's already complicated enough. In the book I'm writing now, she's much angrier than I ever thought she would be."

In contrast, the author comes across as a warm woman overflowing with ideas and energy. She divides her time between New York City, Woodstock in upstate New York, and London. She takes time out from writing to host a monthly literary segment for a BBC children's show called Live and Kicking. (Her popularity is secure in Great Britain. She was nominated for the British Book Award for children, but native Ann Fine, of Mrs. Doubtfire fame, edged her out.)

Perhaps some of Amber's newfound anger is rooted in Danziger's childhood, which had its share of complications, described in the well-received 1974 book that launched her career, The Cat Ate My Gymsuit, about 13-year-old Marcy Lewis.

"[The book] is very much my growing up," she says. "At age 12, I was put on tranquilizers when I should have gotten help," she continues. "There was nothing major and awful, I just didn't feel [my family] was supportive and emotionally generous. My father was a very unhappy person, very sarcastic, and my mother is very nervous and worried about what people thought. They weren't monsters, but it wasn't a good childhood."

Danziger sums up the subject with one of her trademark quips: "I always say that the family would now be called dysfunctional; back then we were just Danzigers."

One of the things that's seen her through good times and bad is her sense of humor. She even names many of her characters after favorite comedians, such as Ernie Kovacs.

The origin of Amber Brown's name, however, is a joke between fellow writers. When author and illustrators Marc and Laurie Brown-the creators of a multitude of best-selling books about Arthur the Aardvark and his sister D.W.-were expecting a child, Danziger suggested that they name their baby Amber.

"Then everyone would call her Crayola Face," Danziger told them. Instead, the Browns named their daughter Eliza, and now she receives advance copies of the Amber Brown books for critique.

Before turning to writing, Danziger was a junior high school teacher. While her students provided plenty of raw material for the beginning writer, she strongly recommends that anyone interested in the craft take acting lessons, as she did, on the advice of a teacher.

"They're wonderful for anyone who wants to learn about characterization and motivation," she explains. "No matter what age you are, if you want something more than anything else, but can't have it, to me, that becomes a plot."

As for her own plots, she says, "I think my books talk about kids learning to like and respect themselves and each other. You can't write a message book; you just tell the best story you know how to tell."

An important mentor was poet John Ciardi, whose children Danziger babysat during her college years. After learning of their sitter's literary interests, Ciardi and his wife took Danziger to literary conferences.

"He taught me a lot about language," she remembers. He suggested that she analyze one poem by underlining the funny lines in red and the serious lines in blue. By the end of the poem, Ciardi said, you get purple.

"That's what I always write toward," Danziger says, "that mixture. I think that's why Amber Brown works: the books are funny and sad, and that's what people respond to."

Danziger's titles alone are often enough to catch the attention of adults and young readers alike. Take, for instance, Remember Me to Harold Square and its recent sequel set in London, Thames Doesn't Rhyme with James. Although written for an older audience than the Amber Brown books, they have the same witty humor and quick phrasing that appeal to kids today.

Of course, appealing to kids and appealing to their parents is not always the same thing. Danziger has noticed this at book signings for Can You Sue Your Parents for Malpractice? Some parents have told her they would never buy such a book for their child; others say they can't wait to get it in the hands of their son or daughter.

"You know [the latter] are probably pretty good parents," Danziger says, "because they've got a sense of humor and they're not afraid."

Alice Cary has interviewed many writers for this publication.

Paula Danziger owes a slice of her success to a pizza party. Her popular books about Amber Brown were inspired by a phone conversation with her then seven-year-old niece, Carrie, who was obviously upset.

"She was a crazed person," Danziger remembers.
"Aunt, we're having a pizza…

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A baby brother gets all the attention. A weekend visitor acts conniving and rude. A little girl gets lost. Kevin Henkes’ picture books and novels are a celebration of the ordinary, written and illustrated with extraordinary aplomb.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, the Wisconsin native and resident describes his childhood and adult life as ordinary, saying: "It’s amazing how certain things in everyday life can turn into a book, and the people who inspired it never know it."

Such is the case with Henkes’ latest creation, Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse in which Lilly, one of his indomitable mouse heroines, receives a spectacular present from her Grammy: a purse that plays music when opened, along with "movie-star sunglasses" studded with rhinestones and hung on a chain. The accessories are the perfect complement to Lilly’s trademark red cowboy boots and a crown.

Inspiration for the story struck several years ago when Henkes was on a book tour, waiting in an airport. He believes he was in Boise, Idaho, when he spotted a girl with a pocketbook just like Lilly’s.

"She was driving her father crazy," Henkes says. "It was one of those moments when the light bulb really goes off. I thought the pocketbook would be perfect for Lilly. So I got on the airplane and began writing."

In the plot that evolved, life is pretty wonderful for Lilly. In addition to her new purse, she loves school and idolizes her hip teacher, Mr. Slinger, who greets the class with "howdy," not hello, wears "artistic" shirts, and believes rows of desks are boring. Instead of rows, Lilly’s offbeat instructor suggests: "Do you rodents think you can handle a semicircle?"

Mr. Slinger is definitely cool. That is, until he is forced to take Lilly’s purse away, after she refuses to stop showing it off and disturbing the class. And thus a new mouse predicament is born. Lilly doesn’t take any challenge lightly, as readers discovered in Julius, the Baby of the World, in which she torments her baby brother by proclaiming him the "germ of the world." (Henkes was inspired for this one when his niece didn’t like her new role as an older sister.)

Lilly is part of an entire Henkes Mousedom, whose inhabitants can also be found in the Caldecott Honor winner Owen; Chrysanthemum; Chester’s Way; Sheila Rae, the Brave; and A Weekend with Wendell. None of Henkes’s mice, by the way — even the quieter ones — could ever be described as meek. While some characters reappear in several books, Lilly has yet to cross paths with the fearless Sheila Rae, who would definitely be a worthy match.

"They haven’t officially met," Henkes says, "but I think about [such an encounter] a lot. It seems like there’s a lot of possibility there. And I get letters from kids asking when they’ll meet."

Henkes’ fondness for rodents doesn’t stem from personal experience. He has never had a pet mouse, only uninvited house mice. In fact, his first four books featured people. As his writing became more humorous, he decided animals would help tap into this fun, so he used rabbit characters in Bailey Goes Camping, in which a young rabbit is left behind when his older siblings go camping. Next, he switched to mice in A Weekend with Wendell, and also in Chester’s Way, in which Lilly makes her debut.

"I liked Lilly in a way that I had never liked a character of mine before," he says. "I thought there was more about her to tell, so I stuck with it."

Older readers know yet another side of the creator, whose novels include Protecting Marie (just published in September), Two Under Par, Words of Stone, and The Zebra Wall — books that Henkes says feel like "very separate worlds" from his picture books.

"I’ve always thought of myself as an artist," he says, "but now I’m beginning to like the writing more — although it’s nice to go back and forth."

Henkes describes his novels in terms that apply to all of his books: "quiet family stories that mirror my life as a child pretty closely."

Henkes was the fourth of five children, for six years the baby. No, he didn’t torment his youngest sibling as Lilly does Julius, but says he clearly remembers feeling jealous.

The Henkes clan made regular visits to the library, where Henkes fell in love with many works, chief among them the illustrations of Crockett Johnson, Garth Williams, the works of William Steig, and a book called Rain Makes Applesauce, by Julian Scheer, illustrated by Marvin Bileck.

He and the other kids in his family also took art lessons at a nearby museum. But it was Kevin’s older brother, not Kevin, who was considered the artist of the family.

"I was frustrated," Henkes says, "because he is six years older than I am and could always draw and paint more realistically. And he always took the nice, fine brushes, while I got stuck with the fat, scraggly ones."

Their paths eventually diverged, however. The older brother now owns a print shop. Kevin continued to draw and paint. And lest you wonder where his characters get their confidence and tenacity, listen to how his career began: At age 19, Kevin gathered "his life savings" and spent a week in New York City, showing his portfolio to his favorite children’s publishers.

"I was convinced," he says, "I would come home with a book contract." He started making the rounds on a Monday, and by Tuesday morning had a contract with Susan Hirschman at Greenwillow, his first choice of a publisher. Yes, even ordinary lives are not without their crowning moments.

"I was excited," he says, "in a way that maybe I haven’t been since in my book life. It is still a very big deal when Susan calls."

Now, however, the person most likely to call is his 14-month-old Will — Henkes’ and his wife’s very own baby of the world. Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse is dedicated to Will. Henkes shares child care shifts with his wife, a painter, each working about four hours a day in separate studios, both in spare bedrooms. Although Henkes works fewer hours than he did before becoming a father, the books keep coming. When we spoke, he had just finished a novel, Sun and Spoon, to be published in the fall of 1997. For his next project, he’s mulling several ideas, including another Lilly book, another Owen book, and a novel.

"I need to just let things simmer for a while," he says, "and see what’s going to come to the surface."

Alice Cary is a writer in Groton, Mass.

A baby brother gets all the attention. A weekend visitor acts conniving and rude. A little girl gets lost. Kevin Henkes' picture books and novels are a celebration of the ordinary, written and illustrated with extraordinary aplomb.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, the Wisconsin native and resident…

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