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As the holiday season nears, men’s thoughts turn to . . . sports. Of course, for some guys any occasion will do: “Is it Groundhog Day again? Hmm, I wonder what’s on ESPN.” This time of year, though, a happy convergence occurs with the publication of handsome gift books, the tradition of giving and the need for much of male America to recover from a morning of riotous unwrapping by lying on a couch and looking at pictures of athletes pounding on each other. And who knows? You may have a sister or aunt with similar taste; just lock her in the attic with these three coffee-table volumes, and she won’t bother you until spring.

A whirlwind review of gridiron greats In Pro Football’s Heroes of the Hall (Sporting News, $29.95, 399 pages, ISBN 0892047127), Ron Smith honors each member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame with a concise writeup, in language that notes the most critical facts with minimal gushiness. If these sketches are too much to digest, highlighted quotes boil every entry down to one or two sentences, like flash cards. Then there’s the photography and there’s plenty of it from dusty old black-and-white portraits to high-drama, full-color snaps of some especially memorable collisions and sprints.

Still, the most provocative moment occurs before this parade begins, in the “overview.” Here, Smith traces a thread from the Hall of Fame’s first, modest admission ceremony to the 11-day annual bacchanal that’s taken its place, complete with “a queen pageant, a fashion show, a golf tournament, hot air balloons,” and other hoopla that seems to distract from rather than honor the history and essence of the game.

Big finishes and a bonus DVD Time to split hairs: some of the moments noted in Not Till the Fat Lady Sings: The Most Dramatic Sports Finishes of All Time didn’t take place exactly at the finish, such as the famous “long count” of 1927, which transpired three rounds before boxing champion Gene Tunney rallied to beat Jack Dempsey. But who cares? Each episode recalled here by primary author Les Krantz and other contributors recalls the kind of high, human drama that converts otherwise normal people into sports fans.

A vast chronology unfolds throughout these pages, going back to the famous “Merkle blunder” of 1908 and continuing all the way up to 2003. Many may argue over this inclusion or that omission, and that’s good, because this is supposed to happen when sports fans get together. The visuals are splashy, and the bound-in DVD is a big plus, proving that at least in this genre, moving pictures can beat even the most gripping printed material.

A boxing giant’s endless appeal Muhammad Ali: The Glory Years (Miramax, $45, 288 pages, ISBN 140135193X) stands out in this crowd on several counts. First, it focuses entirely on one person. Second, almost all of its photos are black and white. Finally, the text-to-picture balance is just about even. As a result, a less sensational, more reflective tone emerges, as well as a more focused sense of time and drama. From the opening shot, a breathtaking look at the young Cassius Clay holding a pose in profile and under water, the imagery restricts itself to his glory years, when his looks were as potent as his punches and as dazzling as his footwork. And in capturing him in gritty gyms, or in some quaint neighborhood with his mother, and of course in the ring against opponents both hapless and deadly, the storyline unfolds on the power of image alone.

It’s the text, though, that completes these pictures. Authors Felix Dennis and Don Atyeo meet the challenge of finding angles that haven’t already been explored a hundred times, such as the struggle for allegiance at the early stages of his career between Cassius Clay Sr. and Officer Joe Martin, the young fighter’s first coach. It takes a little work to find these insights, but in the end the story proves so compelling that it’s hardly work at all. Robert L. Doerschuk is the former editor of Musician magazine.

As the holiday season nears, men's thoughts turn to . . . sports. Of course, for some guys any occasion will do: "Is it Groundhog Day again? Hmm, I wonder what's on ESPN." This time of year, though, a happy convergence occurs with the publication…
Review by

There have been enough Vietnam memoirs, and memoirs thinly disguised as novels, to fill dozens of library shelves. Some, such as those by Michael Herr, Tim O’Brien and Philip Caputo, have become modern classics of war (or anti-war) literature. Though perhaps not destined for such enduring status, Tracy Kidder’s convincing <b>My Detachment</b> offers an often brutally candid portrait of one young man who, even as he left for Vietnam, was not quite sure why he went.

Kidder won the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award for <i>The Soul of a New Machine</i>, a penetrating study of the computer industry that presaged our microchip-driven world. He has applied the same mode of anthropological journalism to such subjects as education and the building of a house. So it is interesting to see how this perceptive writer, for whom the devil is always found in the details, dissects his own experience.

Fresh out of Harvard, Kidder joined the Army for reasons he still seems somewhat unsure about. It was neither the expected nor the popular thing for someone of his class and education to do. The expression baby killer had recently entered the lexicon, flung at men in uniform by protestors on college campuses across the country, including Harvard, and Kidder’s liberal friends were dumbfounded by his decision. Rudderless and unhappy in love, the disconsolate young Kidder figured he might be drafted anyway, and as an officer with his elite education, he was thinking he would land a cushy desk job at Arlington Hall.

Signing on for intelligence work, Kidder endured basic training, then Army Security Agency school in Massachusetts, which allowed him to spend schizophrenic weekends in Cambridge among his old anti-war crowd. Then it was off to Vietnam, where, with nary a moment’s training on how to command, he was put in charge of a small band of intractable enlisted men. Those who still believe that the picture of the Army painted in <i>Catch-22</i> was fiction need read no further than Kidder’s unadorned account for proof that absurdity is a fact of life in the wartime military.

Yet while there is humor to be found between the lines and in some of the Kafkaesque situations, <b>My Detachment</b> largely captures the gloom and futility that the young soldier found far from home. He romanticizes his humdrum days in letters he never sends, imagining himself taking a pair of young Vietnamese boys under his wing, or telling of a non-existent girlfriend in a nearby village. In fits of rage directed at the girl he left behind, who is slowly breaking up with him by letter, he writes about killing men in battles never fought. In fact, Kidder never saw combat, which is both a source of relief and of disappointment. I think it might have sufficed if I’d been an infantry platoon leader, he writes. As it was, I felt, increasingly, that everything I did was worse than pointless. And still, perversely, I wanted the war, with all else it had to do, to lend my life some meaning. As an officer among enlisted men, young Kidder wants desperately to be liked, a touchy scenario when your charges are all too happy to run roughshod over you. While he establishes a certain rapport with his sergeant, it takes time for him to win the uneasy trust of his men. Still, you get the sense that Kidder, despite his background, is more comfortable with these guys than with his fellow officers, especially the lifers who take it all so very seriously. Mostly, though, one gets the sense that he is marking off the days on his calendar until he can leave.

<b>My Detachment</b> has no blood-splattered violence or foreboding sense of menace (though Kidder does include excerpts from an overwrought, unpublished war novel that he wrote after his tour of duty, which points up the marked differences between reality and the fiction writer’s imagination). The menace here is in Lieutenant Kidder’s muddled head. The double-edged title of this probing book expresses the state of mind of a young man eager to do what is right, what he was trained for, but in a climate less conducive than he had imagined. At a time when our military is once more engaged in a controversial war, Kidder’s brooding ruminations lead one to wonder what some of today’s soldiers might be thinking and ponder what books they might write 40 years from now. <i>Robert Weibezahl is the author of the novel</i> The Wicked and the Dead.

There have been enough Vietnam memoirs, and memoirs thinly disguised as novels, to fill dozens of library shelves. Some, such as those by Michael Herr, Tim O'Brien and Philip Caputo, have become modern classics of war (or anti-war) literature. Though perhaps not destined for such…

Review by

As the holiday season nears, men’s thoughts turn to . . . sports. Of course, for some guys any occasion will do: “Is it Groundhog Day again? Hmm, I wonder what’s on ESPN.” This time of year, though, a happy convergence occurs with the publication of handsome gift books, the tradition of giving and the need for much of male America to recover from a morning of riotous unwrapping by lying on a couch and looking at pictures of athletes pounding on each other. And who knows? You may have a sister or aunt with similar taste; just lock her in the attic with these three coffee-table volumes, and she won’t bother you until spring.

A whirlwind review of gridiron greats In Pro Football’s Heroes of the Hall, Ron Smith honors each member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame with a concise writeup, in language that notes the most critical facts with minimal gushiness. If these sketches are too much to digest, highlighted quotes boil every entry down to one or two sentences, like flash cards. Then there’s the photography and there’s plenty of it from dusty old black-and-white portraits to high-drama, full-color snaps of some especially memorable collisions and sprints.

Still, the most provocative moment occurs before this parade begins, in the “overview.” Here, Smith traces a thread from the Hall of Fame’s first, modest admission ceremony to the 11-day annual bacchanal that’s taken its place, complete with “a queen pageant, a fashion show, a golf tournament, hot air balloons,” and other hoopla that seems to distract from rather than honor the history and essence of the game.

Big finishes and a bonus DVD Time to split hairs: some of the moments noted in Not Till the Fat Lady Sings: The Most Dramatic Sports Finishes of All Time (Triumph, $29.95, 148 pages, ISBN 1572435585) didn’t take place exactly at the finish, such as the famous “long count” of 1927, which transpired three rounds before boxing champion Gene Tunney rallied to beat Jack Dempsey. But who cares? Each episode recalled here by primary author Les Krantz and other contributors recalls the kind of high, human drama that converts otherwise normal people into sports fans.

A vast chronology unfolds throughout these pages, going back to the famous “Merkle blunder” of 1908 and continuing all the way up to 2003. Many may argue over this inclusion or that omission, and that’s good, because this is supposed to happen when sports fans get together. The visuals are splashy, and the bound-in DVD is a big plus, proving that at least in this genre, moving pictures can beat even the most gripping printed material.

A boxing giant’s endless appeal Muhammad Ali: The Glory Years (Miramax, $45, 288 pages, ISBN 140135193X) stands out in this crowd on several counts. First, it focuses entirely on one person. Second, almost all of its photos are black and white. Finally, the text-to-picture balance is just about even. As a result, a less sensational, more reflective tone emerges, as well as a more focused sense of time and drama. From the opening shot, a breathtaking look at the young Cassius Clay holding a pose in profile and under water, the imagery restricts itself to his glory years, when his looks were as potent as his punches and as dazzling as his footwork. And in capturing him in gritty gyms, or in some quaint neighborhood with his mother, and of course in the ring against opponents both hapless and deadly, the storyline unfolds on the power of image alone.

It’s the text, though, that completes these pictures. Authors Felix Dennis and Don Atyeo meet the challenge of finding angles that haven’t already been explored a hundred times, such as the struggle for allegiance at the early stages of his career between Cassius Clay Sr. and Officer Joe Martin, the young fighter’s first coach. It takes a little work to find these insights, but in the end the story proves so compelling that it’s hardly work at all. Robert L. Doerschuk is the former editor of Musician magazine.

As the holiday season nears, men's thoughts turn to . . . sports. Of course, for some guys any occasion will do: "Is it Groundhog Day again? Hmm, I wonder what's on ESPN." This time of year, though, a happy convergence occurs with the publication…
Review by

Within the realm of graphic novels, manga is its own vast universe. The term generally refers to Japanese animation in book form, as opposed to anime, the style’s video incarnation. Manga books are traditionally read from right to left; that can be awkward to a Western reader, so most English-language editions have been adapted by printing mirror images of each page in a left-to-right format. But, because this can distort the artwork and the flow of the story, several publishers recently have begun producing English translations of manga titles in the traditional, right-to-left format. Warning signs on the back pages (“You’re reading in the wrong direction!”) help newbies navigate the books.

Viz and TOKYOPOP are two of the more prominent publishers of traditional manga in the U.S.

Viz, whose Shonen Jump imprint calls itself the world’s most popular manga, has several new titles appearing this fall. The most appealing is Shaman King ($7.95, 205 pages, ISBN 1569319022), in which the traditional manga hero a cute, tiny, spiky-haired, huge-eyed warrior kid with supernatural powers battles ghosts and settles scores in the afterlife, watched by a constantly terrified apprentice/friend.

TOKYOPOP’s upcoming World of Hartz ($9.99, 160 pages, ISBN 1591824109) promises to be huge with the teenage crowd, blending manga-style art with a story that centers on the world of Internet gaming, a sure bet to corner the young geek market.

TOKYOPOP has also published its first annual The Rising Stars of Manga ($9.99, 250 pages, ISBN 1591822246), a collection drawn from hundreds of entries in a 2002 contest to find the best of American manga. The book shows an impressive range of styles, tones and subject matter; it’s a great starting point for checking out up-and-coming artists and getting a feel for the current scene.

Certain to be big news in the graphic novel world is Osamu Tezuka’s eight-volume Buddha series. Volume one, Buddha: Kapilavastu, has just been released with a cover designed by well-known graphic artist Chip Kidd. Tezuka, who died in 1989, had a massive influence on Japanese manga. His re-creation of the life of Siddhartha is at once sweet, funny and tragic, with childlike artwork that nevertheless expresses suffering and injustice.

Within the realm of graphic novels, manga is its own vast universe. The term generally refers to Japanese animation in book form, as opposed to anime, the style's video incarnation. Manga books are traditionally read from right to left; that can be awkward to…
Review by

Younger readers or older fans of picture books will be unfamiliar with the name of Graeme Base. He has combined verbal and visual wit, and sheer artistic virtuosity, in several books that are justly famous. Beginning with the international bestseller Animalia, he went on to write clever books such as The Eleventh Hour, The Discovery of Dragons and The Worst Band in the Universe. Now he has created a whole new spectacle, a wonderful counting book called The Water Hole.

Base’s new book has everything that catapulted its predecessors up the bestseller lists gorgeous artwork, witty text, hidden objects in the exceedingly tricky paintings, even secondary designs progressing separately from the main story. We have come to expect such things from Base. But there are some new elements as well.

In the time-honored manner of Peter Newell’s The Hole Book (recently reprinted by Tuttle Publishing) and its literary cousins, Graeme Base has created a volume that has a hole in each page. However, as usual, he has applied his own spin to the idea. The elliptical hole, which grows ever smaller, is in the center of a water hole (nicely giving the title a second meaning). Alas, the watering hole is shrinking from drought. Beginning with the one rhino drinking, through the three toucans and on to the nine tortoises, each group faces a smaller water source. Finally 10 kangaroos face a dry waterbed.

Naturally Graeme Base couldn’t end a book on such a sad note. Turn the page and you find a single raindrop, extravagantly magnified, smashing like a meteor into the parched earth. Again, turn the page and witness a growing rainstorm. And, as always with Base, prepare to be surprised and delighted by the shapes of the puddles, which beautifully unite earlier themes. In a lovely and satisfying final panorama, all of the animals are together at the water hole, in the manner of Edward Hicks’ famous painting The Peaceable Kingdom.

You may notice that each group of animals hails from a different part of our planet. This is only one of the many subtle unifying ecological images that Base weaves into his magnificent new book. Buy it for the themes, the funny thoughts of the animals or simply for the wonderful way that Graeme Base draws a ladybug beetle.

Younger readers or older fans of picture books will be unfamiliar with the name of Graeme Base. He has combined verbal and visual wit, and sheer artistic virtuosity, in several books that are justly famous. Beginning with the international bestseller Animalia, he went on to…

Review by

Within the realm of graphic novels, manga is its own vast universe. The term generally refers to Japanese animation in book form, as opposed to anime, the style’s video incarnation. Manga books are traditionally read from right to left; that can be awkward to a Western reader, so most English-language editions have been adapted by printing mirror images of each page in a left-to-right format. But, because this can distort the artwork and the flow of the story, several publishers recently have begun producing English translations of manga titles in the traditional, right-to-left format. Warning signs on the back pages (“You’re reading in the wrong direction!”) help newbies navigate the books.

Viz and TOKYOPOP are two of the more prominent publishers of traditional manga in the U.S.

Viz, whose Shonen Jump imprint calls itself the world’s most popular manga, has several new titles appearing this fall. The most appealing is Shaman King ($7.95, 205 pages, ISBN 1569319022), in which the traditional manga hero a cute, tiny, spiky-haired, huge-eyed warrior kid with supernatural powers battles ghosts and settles scores in the afterlife, watched by a constantly terrified apprentice/friend.

TOKYOPOP’s upcoming World of Hartz ($9.99, 160 pages, ISBN 1591824109) promises to be huge with the teenage crowd, blending manga-style art with a story that centers on the world of Internet gaming, a sure bet to corner the young geek market.

TOKYOPOP has also published its first annual The Rising Stars of Manga, a collection drawn from hundreds of entries in a 2002 contest to find the best of American manga. The book shows an impressive range of styles, tones and subject matter; it’s a great starting point for checking out up-and-coming artists and getting a feel for the current scene.

Certain to be big news in the graphic novel world is Osamu Tezuka’s eight-volume Buddha series. Volume one, Buddha: Kapilavastu, (Vertical, $24.95, 400 pages, ISBN 1932234438), has just been released with a cover designed by well-known graphic artist Chip Kidd. Tezuka, who died in 1989, had a massive influence on Japanese manga. His re-creation of the life of Siddhartha is at once sweet, funny and tragic, with childlike artwork that nevertheless expresses suffering and injustice.

Within the realm of graphic novels, manga is its own vast universe. The term generally refers to Japanese animation in book form, as opposed to anime, the style's video incarnation. Manga books are traditionally read from right to left; that can be awkward to…
Review by

Every once in a while a special picture book comes along. On the shelf it calls out to you immediately. The moment you hold it in your hands you know it’s a treasure you will want to read and share for years to come. Goin’ Someplace Special is just such a book.

Patricia C. McKissack is one of our foremost authors for young people. Here, she tells her own story of growing up in Nashville in the segregated 1950s. Lovingly illustrated in pencil and watercolors by award-winning artist Jerry Pinkney, Goin’ Someplace Special follows a girl named ‘Tricia Ann as she leaves the protective comfort of her grandmother, Mama Frances, to take a big step. She is going downtown alone, to Someplace Special.

In Goin’ Someplace Special we see the Jim Crow world through ‘Tricia Ann’s eyes. There’s the sign on the bus that says Colored Section, the bench by the Peace Fountain that reads, For Whites Only and the Southland Hotel’s grand lobby, where ‘Tricia Ann wanders in by mistake, only to be yelled at and ousted by the manager. This journey away from her grandmother’s loving arms is frightening indeed. But throughout, ‘Tricia Ann is supported by friends and neighbors. In the bus, Mrs. Gannell tells her, Carry yo’self proud. And Jimmy Lee, a street vendor, helps keep her spirits up. Don’t let those signs steal yo’ happiness, he tells her.

In the end, ‘Tricia Ann reaches her destination. And it is only then that the reader learns that Someplace Special is the Nashville Public Library, which in the late 1950s quietly voted to integrate its facilities.

Recently I asked Patricia McKissack if she had been thinking of writing this book for a long time. She responded, For years and years. But I did not want to write an angry book. I wanted children to feel they can make it to whatever destination they are trying to reach. I wanted this to be a book of triumph. A book of triumph it is. With the love of family and the support of community, young Patricia McKissack did reach her destination and fulfill her dreams of becoming all she knew she could be. Children who read this beautiful, poignant story will be inspired to do the same.

Deborah Hopkinson is the author of A Band of Angels, a story about Nashville’s Fisk University Jubilee Singers.

Every once in a while a special picture book comes along. On the shelf it calls out to you immediately. The moment you hold it in your hands you know it's a treasure you will want to read and share for years to come. Goin'…

Review by

Within the realm of graphic novels, manga is its own vast universe. The term generally refers to Japanese animation in book form, as opposed to anime, the style’s video incarnation. Manga books are traditionally read from right to left; that can be awkward to a Western reader, so most English-language editions have been adapted by printing mirror images of each page in a left-to-right format. But, because this can distort the artwork and the flow of the story, several publishers recently have begun producing English translations of manga titles in the traditional, right-to-left format. Warning signs on the back pages (“You’re reading in the wrong direction!”) help newbies navigate the books.

Viz and TOKYOPOP are two of the more prominent publishers of traditional manga in the U.S.

Viz, whose Shonen Jump imprint calls itself the world’s most popular manga, has several new titles appearing this fall. The most appealing is Shaman King ($7.95, 205 pages, ISBN 1569319022), in which the traditional manga hero a cute, tiny, spiky-haired, huge-eyed warrior kid with supernatural powers battles ghosts and settles scores in the afterlife, watched by a constantly terrified apprentice/friend.

TOKYOPOP’s upcoming <World of Hartz promises to be huge with the teenage crowd, blending manga-style art with a story that centers on the world of Internet gaming, a sure bet to corner the young geek market.

TOKYOPOP has also published its first annual The Rising Stars of Manga ($9.99, 250 pages, ISBN 1591822246), a collection drawn from hundreds of entries in a 2002 contest to find the best of American manga. The book shows an impressive range of styles, tones and subject matter; it’s a great starting point for checking out up-and-coming artists and getting a feel for the current scene.

Certain to be big news in the graphic novel world is Osamu Tezuka’s eight-volume Buddha series. Volume one, Buddha: Kapilavastu, (Vertical, $24.95, 400 pages, ISBN 1932234438), has just been released with a cover designed by well-known graphic artist Chip Kidd. Tezuka, who died in 1989, had a massive influence on Japanese manga. His re-creation of the life of Siddhartha is at once sweet, funny and tragic, with childlike artwork that nevertheless expresses suffering and injustice.

Within the realm of graphic novels, manga is its own vast universe. The term generally refers to Japanese animation in book form, as opposed to anime, the style's video incarnation. Manga books are traditionally read from right to left; that can be awkward to…
Review by

<b>Lights, camera, action fill Moody’s latest</b> The story, it’s incredible, it’s like this gigantic story, spanning a thousand years. If that sounds like a semi-articulate pitch for a television event, you’re half-right. It’s Vanessa Meandro, head of the indie film company Means Of Production, briefing her mom on the plot of The Diviners, a far-reaching epic that centers on the miraculous individuals throughout history who have slaked the thirsts of the masses, with both water and <i>so much more</i>, if you catch her drift. After all, who would want to watch a miniseries about mere well-diggers? Rick Moody’s writing career includes two highly regarded short story collections, four novels and an award-winning memoir entitled <i>The Black Veil</i>. In his latest novel, which shares its title with the aforementioned miniseries, Moody takes a rapier to the intersection of ambition and pop culture, sliding his point in as deftly as a plastic surgeon’s Botox injection.

Don’t be lulled into a reverie by <b>The Diviners</b>’ opening, which, in almost chant-like fashion, describes the dawning of day across the planet. The book almost immediately ramps up into hyperdrive, with frenetic dialogue and fast-paced interplay peppered throughout. The breathless five-page pitch Meandro hurtles at the UBC television network VP satisfies in its manic way as much as Lucky’s monologue in <i>Waiting for Godot</i>.

As for the miniseries itself? <i>Caveat emptor</i>, as the two main screenwriters in contention for the gig are, respectively, a self-important wine critic and a self-important Supreme Court justice. Hubris abounds, as the would-be screenwriter critic reflects, His editor has often told him he has a novel in him, for example, and if not a novel, why not a sixteen episode mini-series, with a three-hour pilot, that goes from the dawn of man up to the millennium? <i>Thane Tierney is a record executive in Los Angeles.</i>

<b>Lights, camera, action fill Moody's latest</b> The story, it's incredible, it's like this gigantic story, spanning a thousand years. If that sounds like a semi-articulate pitch for a television event, you're half-right. It's Vanessa Meandro, head of the indie film company Means Of Production, briefing…

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Author Arden Druce must be a fine dancer. She knows good rhythm. And after 21 years in the classroom, she has mastered a flair for putting a catchy beat on the page.

ON HALLOWEEN NIGHT
When it’s dark and scary,
Who can swoop through the air
With a swish and a flurry?
"I CAN," SAID THE WITCH

And so the pattern is set for each of the traditional symbols kids have come to love and fear about Halloween, including a floppy scarecrow, a jack-o-lantern with a crooked smile, a big-eyed owl and more. But none are too scary, really. Even the witch, complete with broom and scraggly hair, has a sweet smile and looks a lot like your Aunt Edna. The hissing, arch-backed black cat seems to be trying his best to frighten passersby, but you just want to pick him off the page, scratch his furry head and say, Cut it out, Midnight. How about a kitty treat to stop all that noise? The art is that fun.

Illustrator David Wenzel portrays a typical night of trick-or-treat that is spooky, but charming, dark, but full of bright energy. Light from the children’s flashlights creates interesting shadows on fences. Details on every page hide secrets and surprises. Most impressive is a transparent ghost (how does he do that with paint, anyway?) who is eerie, yet strikingly beautiful. And the rattling-bones skeleton looks as if he could do a fine Charleston.

All the images work hand in hand with the rhyme, rhythm and repetition that all picture book lovers savor. The added elements that take both the author and the artist to successfully pull off are what this old schoolmarm use to call predicting, context clues and searching for details. With page-turning anticipation, readers and art lovers will enjoy Halloween Night several times before discovering all of the story’s secrets. Sure, it’s a tale about the scariest night of the year, but it’s so fun! Hopefully, this pair will team up again. They seem to have a bookmaking one-upmanship that promises to give us another delightful treat.

Author Arden Druce must be a fine dancer. She knows good rhythm. And after 21 years in the classroom, she has mastered a flair for putting a catchy beat on the page.

ON HALLOWEEN NIGHT
When it's dark and scary,

Review by

Within the realm of graphic novels, manga is its own vast universe. The term generally refers to Japanese animation in book form, as opposed to anime, the style’s video incarnation. Manga books are traditionally read from right to left; that can be awkward to a Western reader, so most English-language editions have been adapted by printing mirror images of each page in a left-to-right format. But, because this can distort the artwork and the flow of the story, several publishers recently have begun producing English translations of manga titles in the traditional, right-to-left format. Warning signs on the back pages (“You’re reading in the wrong direction!”) help newbies navigate the books.

Viz and TOKYOPOP are two of the more prominent publishers of traditional manga in the U.S.

Viz, whose Shonen Jump imprint calls itself the world’s most popular manga, has several new titles appearing this fall. The most appealing is Shaman King, in which the traditional manga hero a cute, tiny, spiky-haired, huge-eyed warrior kid with supernatural powers battles ghosts and settles scores in the afterlife, watched by a constantly terrified apprentice/friend.

TOKYOPOP’s upcoming World of Hartz ($9.99, 160 pages, ISBN 1591824109) promises to be huge with the teenage crowd, blending manga-style art with a story that centers on the world of Internet gaming, a sure bet to corner the young geek market.

TOKYOPOP has also published its first annual The Rising Stars of Manga ($9.99, 250 pages, ISBN 1591822246), a collection drawn from hundreds of entries in a 2002 contest to find the best of American manga. The book shows an impressive range of styles, tones and subject matter; it’s a great starting point for checking out up-and-coming artists and getting a feel for the current scene.

Certain to be big news in the graphic novel world is Osamu Tezuka’s eight-volume Buddha series. Volume one, Buddha: Kapilavastu, (Vertical, $24.95, 400 pages, ISBN 1932234438), has just been released with a cover designed by well-known graphic artist Chip Kidd. Tezuka, who died in 1989, had a massive influence on Japanese manga. His re-creation of the life of Siddhartha is at once sweet, funny and tragic, with childlike artwork that nevertheless expresses suffering and injustice.

Within the realm of graphic novels, manga is its own vast universe. The term generally refers to Japanese animation in book form, as opposed to anime, the style's video incarnation. Manga books are traditionally read from right to left; that can be awkward to…
Review by

Once upon a time in 1903, 12-year-old Diamante Mazzucco and his nine-year-old cousin Vita left their small village in Italy and traveled in the company of more than 2,000 other hopeful immigrants on the SS Republic to begin new lives in America. Vita, an impressively poignant and thoroughly entertaining novel by Italian author Melania Mazzucco, is their fascinating story. As they learn how to survive in an often strange and sometimes inhospitable culture, the two young immigrants whose story is based upon that of Mazzucco’s own ancestors encounter powerful passions, unimaginable poverty and heartbreaking challenges. Throughout the erratic courses of their lives, Diamante and Vita join the millions of resourceful and resilient immigrants who have given America something of their souls, ideas, feelings and dreams. Diamante’s experiences are both harrowing and humbling; even though he had ever since leaving the reassuring familiarity of Italy dared to dream of a different life, he ultimately believes himself to have been betrayed both by the dream and by America. While Vita’s life in her new country is often no less traumatic and devastating than Diamante’s, she learns to trust in what she thinks is the great lesson of the American experience: have an unshakeable faith in a better tomorrow.

This uniquely crafted work is a modern woman’s attempt to rediscover the nearly invisible historical tracks left by two children whose legendary experiences, failures and successes have left an indelible impression on subsequent generations of the Mazzucco family. Vita was awarded the Strega Prize in 2003, Italy’s leading literary award. Now American readers (so many of whom have families who also shared in the great American immigrant experience) have an opportunity to enjoy this powerful portrait of Diamante, Vita and America a sweeping saga of hope and disappointment, love and loss, and endurance and success in the face of staggering odds. Tim Davis teaches literature at the University of West Florida.

Once upon a time in 1903, 12-year-old Diamante Mazzucco and his nine-year-old cousin Vita left their small village in Italy and traveled in the company of more than 2,000 other hopeful immigrants on the SS Republic to begin new lives in America. Vita, an impressively…
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To Grandmother’s house we go. But over the river and through the woods? Not this time. When the young boy in Brian Wilcox and Lawrence David’s Full Moon dreams of visiting his grandmother in a faraway place, his adventure is much more exotically inspired than the age-old song. Here, lions and elephants and giraffes (Oh my!) are his companions on the quest, and mountains, rockets and roller coasters are the obstacles.

Wilcox, a first-time author and illustrator who grew up traveling through the awe-inspiring lands of the Far East, Middle East and Africa, joins forces with seasoned author and New York City native Lawrence David to create this fantastic flight of fancy.

The dream-time adventure follows a young boy whose birthday present, a snow globe, transports him into a magical world where the full moon is his guide and nothing is impossible. His journey takes him beyond the mountains, prairies and rivers to nighttime New York City the city that never sleeps where his grandmother lives. From the magnificent towers of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral to the crowning spire of the Chrysler building through lively Central Park Zoo and across the building tops where water towers turn into rocket ships, our hero searches for his grandma, finally finding her atop the majestic Statue of Liberty. Wilcox’s enchanting illustrations of the New York City skyline combine elements of his worldly travels and a reverence for the city. From rhinos in Central Park to spaceships on roller coasters to ballerinas and cellists floating amidst the skyscrapers, Wilcox taps into a vast array of ingenious images. And the drawings themselves, done in black and white, reflect what we sometimes see under a full moon varying shades of gray and shapes that could become anything we want them to be, depending on where our imaginations lead us.

This Full Moon leads us to a heartfelt message: the realization that even when those we love are far away, they are close to our hearts.

Heidi Henneman is a freelance writer in The City That Never Sleeps. Her grandmothers live over several rivers, past a couple of mountains and across a few prairies, but they always remain close to her heart.

To Grandmother's house we go. But over the river and through the woods? Not this time. When the young boy in Brian Wilcox and Lawrence David's Full Moon dreams of visiting his grandmother in a faraway place, his adventure is much more exotically inspired than…

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