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Pull up a chair and dig into a four-course feast of picture books! These books offer innovative depictions of what it means to express gratitude, to share a meal and to be both welcoming and welcomed.

Thankful

“Every year when the first snow falls, we make thankful chains to last us through December,” explains the narrator of Thankful. She is stretched out on her bedroom floor, surrounded by a halo of colorful construction paper, hard at work transforming it into a paper chain. As she lists the things for which she is thankful, readers glimpse scenes of her life with her parents, new sibling and pet dog, at her school and with her friends. 

Author Elaine Vickers’ text is wonderfully evocative. The girl’s list includes concrete and sensory observations, such as gratitude for “the spot under the covers where someone has just been sleeping” and “a cloth on my forehead when I feel sick.” In a humorous beach scene, the girl reflects that she is thankful “for wind and sand—but not at the same time.” 

Readers will be entranced by Samantha Cotterill’s outstanding and unique art. To create her illustrations, Cotterill creates miniature 3D interiors, populates them with cutout characters, then photographs each diorama. She includes charming details, including real lights in various rooms and shining car headlights, along with construction paper chains so realistic in appearance that you’ll feel you could almost touch them. Colorful and original, Thankful will spark young readers to create their own thankful chains—and may inspire them to try their hand at making diorama art, too.

Let Me Fix You a Plate

The excitement of family gatherings is at the heart of Let Me Fix You a Plate: A Tale of Two Kitchens, inspired by author-illustrator Elizabeth Lilly’s annual childhood trips to see her grandparents. The book follows a girl, her two sisters and their parents as they pile into a car and drive first to West Virginia to their Mamaw and Papaw, then continue to Florida to visit their Abuela and Abuelo, before they finally return to their own home.

Lilly’s energetic illustrations capture these comings and goings, as well as the abundant details the narrator observes in her grandparents’ homes. At Mamaw and Papaw’s house, she sees a shelf of decorative plates and coffee mugs with tractors on them, eats sausage and toast with blackberry jam and helps make banana pudding. Abuela and Abuelo’s house is filled with aunts, uncles and cousins and the sounds of Spanish and salsa music. The girl picks oranges from a tree in the yard and helps make arepas. 

Throughout, Lilly’s precise prose contributes to a strong sense of place. “Morning mountain fog wrinkles and rolls,” observes the girl on her first morning in West Virginia, while in Florida, “the hot sticky air hugs us close.” Lilly’s line drawings initially seem simple, almost sketchlike, but they expertly convey the actions and emotions of every character, whether it’s Mamaw bending down to offer her granddaughter a bite of breakfast or a roomful of aunts and uncles dancing while Abuelo plays guitar. Like a warm hug from a beloved family member, Let Me Fix You a Plate is a cozy squeeze that leaves you grinning and a little bit breathless. 

Saturday at the Food Pantry

“Everybody needs help sometimes” is the message at the heart of Saturday at the Food Pantry, which depicts a girl named Molly’s first trip to a food pantry with her mom. 

Molly and her mom have been eating chili for two weeks; when Molly’s mom opens the refrigerator, we see that it’s nearly empty. In bed that night, Molly’s stomach growls with hunger. Molly is excited to visit a food pantry for the first time, but she isn’t sure what to expect. As she and her mom wait in line, Molly is happy to see that Caitlin, a classmate, is also waiting with her grandmother. Molly greets her enthusiastically, but Caitlin ignores her. “I don’t want anyone to know Gran and I need help,” Caitlin explains later.

Molly’s cheerfulness saves the day, and the girls’ interactions contribute to a normalizing and destigmatizing representation of their experience. Molly asks her mom questions that reveal how the food pantry differs from a grocery store. Mom must check in before she begins shopping, for instance, and there are limits on how many items customers can have. “Take one bundle” reads a sign in the banana basket. 

Author Diane O’Neil captures her characters’ trepidations head-on. Mom smiles “just a little, not like when they played at the park” at the volunteer who signs her in, and Molly is confused and sad when her mom tells her to put a box of cookies back because “the people in charge … want us to take sensible stuff.” Gradually, however, the occasion transforms into a positive experience for all. 

Food insecurity can be a sensitive topic, and O’Neil—who went to a food pantry when she was a child—handles the issue in a reassuring, informative way. A helpful end note from the CEO of the Greater Chicago Food Depository explains that millions of people in the United States need help just like Molly and her mom, and provides readers resources to find it. 

Illustrator Brizida Magro is a wizard of texture, whether depicting Molly’s wavy hair or the wonderful array of patterns in coats, sweaters and pants. Her ability to capture facial expressions and convey complex emotions is also noteworthy; it adds to the book’s emotional depth and makes the eventual smiles all the more impactful. The pantry shoppers’ diversity of skin tone, age and ability underscores how food insecurity can affect anyone. Saturday at the Food Pantry brims with sincerity and a helpful and hopeful spirit.

A Hundred Thousand Welcomes

“In one place or another, at one time or another, in one way or another, every single one of us will find ourselves in search of acceptance, help, protection, welcome,” writes Mary Lee Donovan in her introduction to A Hundred Thousand Welcomes, illustrated by Lian Cho.

With poetic text that reads like an invocation, the book is a fascinating around-the-world tour that explores the concept of welcome. On each page, a household from a different culture entertains guests. Many pages include the corresponding word for “welcome” in that culture’s language, including words and phrases in Indonesian, Arabic, Mandarin Chinese and Lakota Sioux. Back matter from Cho and Donovan explains the inspiration that sparked their collaboration and offers more information about the many languages spoken throughout the world and a detailed pronunciation guide to all of the words in the book.

Cho’s art is a multicultural feast of families and friends enjoying each other’s company. There’s a German chalet where kids play in the snow, a Bengali family greeting visitors who arrive in a small, colorful vehicle and more. The disparate scenes culminate in two shining spreads. In the first, people of all ages and nationalities share a meal at a table that’s so long, it can only fit on the page thanks to a breathtaking gatefold. In the next, an equally long line of kids sit atop a brick wall, chatting with each other and gazing up at a night sky full of stars as one child turns around and waves at the reader.

Although many picture books celebrate the fellowship of friendship and the love that flows during family gatherings, A Hundred Thousand Welcomes encourages readers to go one step further, to ready their own welcome mats and invite neighbors and strangers alike into their homes and hearts.

Four picture books offer innovative depictions of what it means to express gratitude, to share a meal and to be both welcoming and welcomed.
Behind the Book by

"Do you know what building this is?” I ask a gym full of third graders as I direct their attention to my next slide.

“Empire State Building!” several voices call out. (Good start. Sometimes kindergarteners think it’s the Eiffel Tower.)

“Exactly! Any idea how old it is?”

“A hundred years,” someone yells. “Ten years,” another guesses.

A boy in front raises his hand excitedly. Maybe he’s a kid who’s really into history, I think. Maybe he’ll nail it on the first try.

I call on him. “How many years old do you think it is?”

“Five thousand!”

Right. Well, therein lies one reason I like to write books that tie into historical anniversaries. Anniversaries help give kids a touchstone—a way to make sense of all that amorphous past that happened before they were born.

It’s a start if, after I visit a school, children can remember a few things: there are cars in the illustrations of Sky Boys, the Empire State Building book set in 1931, but none in Apples to Oregon, a pioneer tale set in 1847; or that not every black-and-white photograph of a man with a beard is a president. More importantly, I hope students continue to find ways to connect with and understand the lives of those who have lived before us.

In addition to Sky Boys, written for the 75th anniversary of the Empire State Building, I’ve published a book on Matthew Henson, co-discoverer of the North Pole in 1909 and Abe Lincoln Crosses a Creek, in honor of the Lincoln bicentennial in 2009.

And that brings me to my new book, The Humblebee Hunter, inspired by the life and experiments of Charles Darwin with his children at Down House.

All right. I know. All this talk of anniversaries and I’m a year late. Anyone who was paying attention to the Lincoln hoopla last year knows that Darwin and Lincoln were born on the same day—February 12, 1809.

Sometimes that’s just the way it goes.

Besides, Charles Darwin—as a transformative thinker and scientist, a lifelong naturalist and as a father and family man—is worth reading and writing about in any year.

I first began research on Darwin for a biography for young readers I published in 2005 entitled Who Was Charles Darwin? Among my valuable resources were biographer Janet Browne’s two volumes on Darwin, Voyaging and The Power of Place. (I recommend both, along with Darwin, Discovering the Tree of Life by Niles Eldridge, curator of the American Museum of Natural History.)

Actually, it was visiting the Darwin exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History in June 2006 that inspired me to write a picture book about Darwin’s family life. (It’s not the same as seeing a Galapagos turtle in person, but you can still access the exhibit online.)

As I turned a corner of the exhibit and came upon the recreation of Darwin’s study at Down House, I stopped short, transported into the epicenter of Darwin’s creative life.

This is where he wrote and worked, I thought. Here was a desk crowded with papers, pens and a microscope. And there was his comfy old armchair near the hearth, where he wrote using a cloth-covered board set across the arms. There were shelves crowded with notes for the Origin of Species. And, of course, a bed by the fire for his dog, Polly.

One could almost imagine Darwin here. But it wouldn’t have been Down House without something else—the clatter of children’s feet and the noisy, happy racket of young voices.

Charles and Emma Darwin had 10 children, seven of whom lived to adulthood. And while Darwin never traveled far after returning from his legendary voyage, biographer Janet Browne describes Down House itself as a kind of Beagle, “a self-contained, self-regulating scientific ship.”

While Emma ran things efficiently, Darwin could work in his “cabin”—his study. The children and Darwin’s numerous, far-flung correspondents became a kind of crew, ready to help with a wide variety of natural history experiments from flowers to pigeons, from worms to bees.

Bees were a favorite Darwin subject, and Darwin’s articles on bees are still cited today. In Voyaging, Browne writes that watching her husband bending over a flower, “Emma got the feeling that Darwin would have liked to be a bee above all other species.”

I was fortunate when working on The Humblebee Hunter to have the guidance of talented editor Tamson Weston at Hyperion, who paired the manuscript with gorgeous illustrations by artist Jen Corace that capture the love and warmth of the Darwin family at Down House. The story begins this way:

One summer afternoon, Mother and Cook tried to teach me to bake a honey cake.
But raspberries glistened in the sun, and birds brushed the air with song.
More than anything, I wanted to be outside.
Then, out the window, I saw Father, home from walking on his Thinking Path.
He stopped in the kitchen garden and bent over the beans. He wanted to study the bees.
Mother smiled and brushed a speck of flower from my cheek.
“Henrietta, I think your father would become a bee, if he could. Just like them, he’s always busy.”

While we have descriptions of at least one bee experiment Darwin did with his children, I can’t be sure the experiment described in the fictional The Humblebee Hunter—counting the number of flowers a humblebee visits in a minute—is one that Darwin and his children did together.

But in a letter written to the British horticultural periodical, “The Gardener’s Chronicle” on August 16, 1841, Darwin describes the number of flowers he saw a humblebee (bumblebee) suck in one minute.

Like Darwin, I did research, involving my family on summer days, bending over flowers to watch bees at work. (My results were pretty close to Darwin’s but not always exact.)

So, any idea as to the number of blossoms a bumblebee visits in one minute?

You may have to wait for summer to experiment yourself.

In the meantime, here’s a hint: it’s not 5,000.

Deborah Hopkinson gardens and writes near Portland, Oregon, where she serves as vice president for advancement at Pacific Northwest College of Art. Visit her on the web at www.deborahhopkinson.com. (And if you really want to know Darwin’s count, of course you should do research. The answer appears in Letter 607 in the Darwin Correspondence Project.)

"Do you know what building this is?” I ask a gym full of third graders as I direct their attention to my next slide.

“Empire State Building!” several voices call out. (Good start. Sometimes kindergarteners think it’s the Eiffel Tower.)

“Exactly! Any idea how old it is?”

“A…

Behind the Book by

How’s this for an intimate detail: Friends who visit our downstairs bathroom sometimes stay in there a while. Not because of digestive problems, but because the room is. . .very interesting. The walls are lined with joke books, as well as books about bodily functions. Hundreds of books, collected by us on our travels, and also by some bathroom visitors who now scout for us.

Jokes are big in our house. My husband, Paul Brewer, writes and illustrates best-selling collections like You Must Be Joking and You Must Be Joking, Too (Cricket). Being the audience for Paul’s jokes is part of my job. We collaborated on the writing of the funniest biography ever, Fartiste (Simon & Schuster), and are always on the lookout for funny ideas.

I discovered Lincoln’s sense of humor years ago, while researching Lives of the Presidents (Harcourt). His way with words—one reason he’s considered one of our best presidents—is famous, but his way with humor isn’t. His life was so very serious. How bizarre that people called him “so funny he could make a cat laugh” and started collecting his jokes into books. Paul and I eventually hit upon this tidbit as a possible picture book, a way to make Lincoln human, an approach to pull in kids who fear, “Oh, not another boring history book about a dead guy.”

Paul made trips to the library and scoured books—some of them over 100 years old—to find the best jokes. We worried that the jokes wouldn’t be funny all these years later, and of course not all of them were, or else were too wordy or required too much explanation. So we were relieved to discover enough material to work with, and from different periods in Lincoln’s life so we could structure this as a biography.

Lincoln Tells a Joke tells the president’s life story through his love of jokes and witty remarks, from the joke books he adored as a child to the ones he kept in his desk drawer at the White House. To him a sense of humor was more than just entertainment. Jokes helped him to win people over, give orders, get along with difficult people, get out of answering questions he didn’t want to answer and fight his own depression. Finally, they helped him keep his balance as he navigated the country through its worst crisis, the Civil War, when the country threatened to split apart.

As many thousands of Lincoln books there are, few focus on his humor (the last book to do so was in 1965, long out of print). Most scholars may have found this approach too trivial, whereas we show how it was just the opposite; humor helped in the development of Lincoln’s famous writing skills, and it also helped him survive and go on to protect the country.

He’s a seriously important president, but also one of America’s first stand-up comics—controversially so. One of the things John Wilkes Booth (and many others) couldn’t stand about him was his way with jokes, which they found unseemly in a president.

Lincoln himself believed that humor should be taught in schools, that jokes were just as valuable as the 3 R’s. We hope Lincoln Tells a Joke will pull in students of presidential history as well as kids who simply like jokes.

Not to mention friends who visit our bathroom.

Kathleen Krull is well known for her innovative approach to biographies for young readers. Her recent books include Lives of the Pirates: Swashbucklers, Scoundrels (Neighbors Beware!) (Harcourt); The Brothers Kennedy: John, Robert, Edward (Simon & Schuster); The Boy Who Invented TV: The Story of Philo Farnsworth (Knopf); and more as featured at www.kathleenkrull.com. Kathleen lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, children's book writer and illustrator Paul Brewer.

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How’s this for an intimate detail: Friends who visit our downstairs bathroom sometimes stay in there a while. Not because of digestive problems, but because the room is. . .very interesting. The walls are lined with joke books, as well as books about bodily functions.…

Behind the Book by

From her home on a Missouri farm, writer Kate Klise has collaborated on many imaginative and funny children’s books with her sister, illustrator M. Sarah Klise. Here she explains how she became interested in Ella Ewing, a real-life giantess and the subject of the Klise sisters’ sixth picture book, Stand Straight, Ella Kate: The True Story of a Real Giant.

No, really. I promise. I did not write Stand Straight, Ella Kate while driving. I’m not nearly that coordinated—or should I say crazy? But I did have an epiphany while driving that shaped the text of the book.

A little background: I first read about Ella Ewing in Rural Missouri, a terrific magazine published by my electric cooperative. I was shocked to read that Ella Ewing (1872-1913), who toured the United States as the World’s Tallest Woman, grew up just a few hours north of my 40-acre farm. In all the years I’d spent as a child reading about bearded ladies and tattooed men, how had I missed Ella Ewing, the Missouri Giantess, who stood eight feet, four inches tall in her size 24 shoes?

I ripped out the Rural Missouri article and sent it to my illustrator sister Sarah, in Berkeley, California, with the note: “Wow. Do you love her or what?” Sarah read the story and sent it back to me with “LOVE her!” written above Ella’s photo.

I think what initially drew us to Ella was the look of grace and quiet elegance on her face. But there was also something Mona Lisa-ish about her. Who was this woman? What was her story? I set off to her old hometown in northern Missouri to find out.

There’s been very little written about Ella other than an out-of-print self-published book by Bette J. Wiley and a 1977 master’s dissertation by Barbara Chasteen. Both were helpful, but I needed primary sources. So I was thrilled to find that the Scotland County Memorial Library had a file folder filled with photos and newspaper articles about Ewing.

I learned that she was a woman who, beginning at age 18, appeared in museums and traveling circus shows. For seven hours a day, she stood in a long dress with a serious expression on her face while people bought tickets to stare at her. She was paid as much as one thousand dollars a month, which was a lot of money back in her day. Still, imagine being promoted as a “freak.” Even newspapers of the day used this term.

The more I read about Ella, the more I fell in love with her. She was funny. She was kind and patient. And she had a sense of dignity lacking in those around her—the promoters, reporters, people who laughed and gawked and stuck pins in her leg to see if she stood on stilts.

But there was the problem. How could I write about Ella without seeming like I was gawking at her, too? I couldn’t figure it out. For the first 10 or 12 drafts, the story wasn’t working. 

And then I was driving down a country road, thinking about Ella, wondering how I could respectfully tell her story, and listening to the radio when I heard Arlo Guthrie sing: “I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans. I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done.”

That’s when it hit me. I needed to rewrite the text in the first person. I needed to be Ella.

I drove home—and okay, maybe I was driving a little fast. But I waited to text until I got to my desk, where I rewrote Ella’s story from her perspective. And that’s when the story started to work.

I’m sure some people will read Stand Straight, Ella Kate as a when-life-gives-you-lemons, make-lemonade kind of story. And in a sense, it is. But to my mind, Ella’s story is a more universal story about growing up, literally, and how so often the things we dislike about ourselves as children, the things that make us different and cause people to laugh at us, are the very things that allow us to take extraordinary journeys.

In my case, for all future journeys I’ll have the radio playing in the hopes that I’ll be lucky enough to hear my text “sing” while driving.

Kate Klise and her sister, M. Sarah Klise, have co-created many epistolary novels for young readers, beginning with Regarding the Fountain and continuing with their new series, 43 Old Cemetery Road. Kate’s next novel is a solo project titled Grounded. It will be released by Feiwel and Friends in November.

Author photo by Dawn Shields.

 

From her home on a Missouri farm, writer Kate Klise has collaborated on many imaginative and funny children’s books with her sister, illustrator M. Sarah Klise. Here she explains how she became interested in Ella Ewing, a real-life giantess and the subject of the Klise…

Behind the Book by

April brings the first signs of spring—warmer days, blooms in the trees—or at least the hope of spring, if you're somewhere still suffering through the last gasp of winter. With all the changes in the natural world, it's a fitting time of year for National Poetry Month. We've been celebrating with hilarious new rhymes for young readers and even verses for babies.

Firefly July: A Year of Very Short Poems is something quite special. Thirty-six very short poems, selected by poet and anthologist Paul B. Janeczko and illustrated by Caldecott Honoree Melissa Sweet, take us through the four seasons. There's no better way to introduce little ones to the verses of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Richard Wright and more.

We asked Janeczko and Sweet about their favorite poems from Firefly July:


Paul B. JaneczkoPaul B. Janeczko, editor

Pick a favorite poem in this book? Oh, my. That's the anthologist's delight: I get to include all my favorite poems that fit a particular collection. But let me offer two of my favorites: "In the Field Forever" by Robert Wallace and "The first September breeze fluttered" by Liz Rosenberg. Like the other poems in this book, they show a reader that a good poem is built on a clear and vivid image, one that appeals to the reader's senses.

Beyond that, they were written by poets that don't normally write for children, and I want my young readers to reach a bit, so I always include poems written by poets not considered to be "children's poets."

Click images to view larger.


Melissa SweetMelissa Sweet, illustrator

Making the art for Firefly July went very smoothly until I came to my favorite poem: "Window."

This poem captures the staccato feel of traveling by train at night, and it reminded me of taking the train from Maine (where I live) to New York City—a very scenic ride.

The art took a few tries before it expressed what I wanted.

The first attempt was to make one big picture, then divide it up into by drawing windows on top of the painting . . . but there wasn't enough detail or variation in the scenes.

Next, starting with the dark background and pasting down each window separately . . . it was too messy and not cohesive enough.

What was missing? Making a list of imagery I remembered from previous train rides: street lights, backyards, woods, towns and cities, roads, nocturnal animals, harbor with fishing boats, rivers, a clock. People all ages reading books, dozing, looking out the windows.

On the final try, I concentrated on each train car, one at a time—Who was in it? Where were they going? What did they see?—and painting very loosely, letting the watercolor softly tell the story.

The final piece reflects the quiet elegance of a train at night, each moment a new scene rambling by. It became my favorite spread, and I happen to know it was Paul’s favorite, too!

Click images to view larger.


 

FIREFLY JULY: A YEAR OF VERY SHORT POEMS. Compilation copyright © 2014 by Paul B. Janeczko. “Window” from Chicago Poems by Carl Sandburg, copyright 1916 by Holt Rinehart and Winston and renewed 1944 by Carl Sandburg, reproduced by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.  “In the Field Forever” by Robert Wallace from Ungainly Things. Copyright © 1968 by Robert Wallace. Used by permission of Christine Wallace. “The first September breeze fluttered” by Liz Rosenberg, used by permission of the author. Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Melissa Sweet. Reproduced by permission of the publisher, Candlewick Press, Somerville, MA.

Firefly July is something quite special. Thirty-six very short poems, selected by poet and anthologist Paul B. Janeczko and illustrated by Caldecott Honoree Melissa Sweet, take us through the four seasons. There's no better way to introduce little ones to the short poems of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Richard Wright and more.

We asked Janeczko and Sweet about their favorite poems from Firefly July:

Behind the Book by

Alan Rabinowitz is a champion of wildlife conservation. He is president and CEO of Panthera, a nonprofit wildlife organization devoted to protecting big cats. As he shares in his charming picture book for children, A Boy and a Jaguar, Rabinowitz's passion for defending wildcats comes from the struggle to find his own words as a child.

Alan RabinowitzMy entire childhood and adolescence was characterized by the inability to speak. Until I finally was given the tools to manipulate the hard contacts in my mouth when I was a senior in college, I was not able to speak a full sentence or communicate a full thought fluently—except to my animals.

I remember feeling as if I lived in two very different worlds. The world of “normal people,” in which I felt apart and dysfunctional, yet which dominated my waking hours, and the more comfortable world of my animals. Strangely, it was the world of my pets, whom I could talk to and express myself that was the real world to me. While I felt completely normal and fluent inside my own head, the only living things that seemed to understand that, who listened without judging me, were my animals.

Eventually it became easier to avoid even trying to speak, to avoid the uncomfortable looks, the snickers, the pity of the human world. I remember being sent home from school early one day after being taken to the nurse’s office. Called on to speak in class by a substitute teacher, I had purposely dropped a pencil under my desk, bent down to retrieve it and stabbed the point of the pencil into my hand. Retelling the story to my animals that night, I thought nothing of the pain in my hand, but I reveled in the small victory at not having to be embarrassed and shamed once again in front of my classmates. The animal world saved me. And I made a promise as a child to help save them, to give them their own voices, if I ever found my own. 

This book is not simply about my childhood and finding the voice that I so desperately sought to help my animal friends. This book is about all young people who feel discarded, misunderstood or ignored. Finding strength through adversity, young people need to see that what makes them different can also make them stronger. This book is about victory. The victory of realizing that what sets you apart empowers you to seek out your dreams and achieve any goal you set in life.  


Alan Rabinowtiz collaring a jaguar in the Brazilian Pantanal.

 

Thanks, Alan!
Images © Steve Winter/Panthera.

Alan Rabinowitz is a champion of wildlife conservation. He is president and CEO of Panthera, a nonprofit wildlife organization devoted to protecting big cats. As he shares in his charming picture book for children, A Boy and a Jaguar, Rabinowitz's passion for defending wildcats comes from the struggle to find his own words as a child.

It would take a whole lotta stamps to send an elephant in the mail, so young Sadie opts for a more personalized touch in Special Delivery, the new picture book romp from Philip C. Stead and Matthew Cordell. Sadie and her pachydermic package try a plane, a train and even an alligator in their postal voyage to Great-Aunt Josephine. As stamp collectors will recognize, the cover of Special Delivery is a nod to the famous Inverted Jenny stamp. Even more delightful are the book's end pages, which feature a great big pile of stamps, many of which seem to be inspired by classic children's literature. Cordell and Stead go behind their new book to share a bit more about the stamps in Special Delivery.


Matthew CordellMatthew Cordell, illustrator

There is an awful lot going on in Special Delivery, but the book revolves around our determined hero, young Sadie, doing her darnedest to deliver (of all things) an elephant to her Great-Aunt Josephine. Sadie’s first instinct is to try and mail the big creature over and she tries this idea out at the Post Office with her postal clerk friend, Jim. Jim promptly lets Sadie know it will take a whole wheelbarrow-full of stamps to make this happen. This is one of my favorite moments in the book. I love this exchange and I love that it starts Sadie on her journey, but I also love the idea of all those stamps. I love stamps for their itsy-bitsy size, for their fun and sophisticated design and illustration, and for their historical significance. They have a sweet yet dignified nostalgic quality about them. And anyways, nothing says “Special Delivery” like a well-designed postage stamp.

The case cover (or “stamp-splosion” as I call it) was at first presented as an idea for illustrated endsheets. Whenever possible, as an added oomph of art, I like to squeeze in some well-thought illustrated endsheets into a picture book. But we were stretched thin as it was on the book’s page count. So Phil and I and our most excellent editor, Mr. Neal Porter, arranged for the stamp-splosion to stretch itself across the case cover, becoming a surprise eyeful of art hidden just beneath the book’s dust jacket. Incidentally, I knew there was going to be so much time needed to create that massive collage of stamps, that I decided to spend no time whatsoever in planning or sketching it out. When it came time to create the finished artwork, I just drew the entire thing as I went, in ink, from one end to the next. Which is very unusual for me. I typically plan and re-plan things in pencil sketches before finalizing all of my artwork. As I began drawing, I had very little idea what would be on any of these stamps other than characters or moments from the book itself. Much of it was stream of consciousness, but I ended up sneaking in a bunch of fun things including my wife and kids, my collaborators Phil and Neal, and several favorite classic picture book characters from years past.

The cover image materialized about midway into the sketching of the book. Phil and Neal and I were on the phone one afternoon having a great time discussing the first round of sketches, talking about what worked and what could yet be expanded upon to amp up the rambunctiousness of the whole thing. It was an incredibly productive and inspiring phone call that went on for over two hours. When I hung up the phone, my brain was buzzing. And it was at that exact moment that the image of the Inverted Jenny stamp popped into my head.

It was a perfect homage for this book’s cover. Not only does the book feature stamps, but there is also a sequence involving a wild ride in an old biplane. What wild ride in an old biplane would be complete without having turned the plane upside down? The 1918 stamp’s plane went upside down by accident, but in our case, it was all on purpose. I roughed it out as quick as I could and emailed the sketch over to Phil and Neal about 10 minutes after I’d hung up the phone. We all agreed that it simply couldn’t be any other way. Thankfully, by the time it came to print the book, everyone still agreed!


Philip C. SteadPhilip C. Stead, author

I've been a stamp collector since the fourth grade. So of course when Matt floated his idea for the "stamp-splosion" book case I said: Let's do it! For me, stamp collecting is all about the thrill of discovery. The diminutive size of most stamps only enhances that sense of discovery. Big and bizarre stories can be found in these tiny pieces of art.

For example, canine space travel!

Or how about this funny little creature? That's quite a sweater he's wearing!

And then there's this one. Hunting elephants from hot air balloons in a curious thing to do, but not so curious, I guess, that it doesn't warrant its own stamp. (Raise your hand if you're rooting for the elephant.)

I love sifting through piles of discarded stamps to find these gems. It's a similar feeling I get when browsing the bookstore or the library. The littlest discovery can expand my entire universe!


Philip C. Stead is the author of the 2011 Caldecott Medal book A Sick Day for Amos McGee. His book A Home for Bird received four starred reviews, while his most recent book, Hello, My Name Is Ruby, has earned three starred reviews. Philip lives with his wife, illustrator Erin E. Stead, in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Check out his website.

Matthew Cordell created Trouble Gum, published by Feiwel and Friends. He has also illustrated several picture books, including Mighty Casey by James Preller and the Justin Case series by Rachel Vail. He lives outside Chicago with his lovely wife, the author Julie Halpern, their adorable daughter and their generally well-mannered cat. Check out his website and follow him on Twitter.

Images reproduced by permission of Roaring Brook Press. Check out Special Delivery at Macmillan.com.

 

It would take a whole lotta stamps to send an elephant in the mail, so young Sadie opts for a more personalized touch in Special Delivery, the new picture book romp from Philip C. Stead and Matthew Cordell. Sadie and her pachydermic package try a plane, a train and even an alligator. As stamp collectors will recognize, the cover of Special Delivery is a nod to the famous Inverted Jenny stamp. Even more delightful are the book's end pages, which feature a great big pile of stamps, many of which seem to be inspired by classic children's literature. Cordell and Stead go behind their new book to share a bit more about the stamps in Special Delivery.

Behind the Book by

The best-selling husband and wife team of David Soman and Jacky Davis share a peek behind the scenes of the eighth book in their beloved Ladybug Girl series, Ladybug Girl and the Best Ever Playdate.


You would think, with all the things young kids have to learn in life—putting on jackets, brushing their teeth, not jumping on the dog—something like having a friend would be the easy part. But that isn’t always the case.

Exploring the theme of friendship takes a writer and illustrator through all manner of emotional terrain. The loveliness of a good friend makes one feel understood and appreciated, and with a friendship being one of the very most wonderful aspects of life, it can be very disconcerting if a friendship goes awry.

In Ladybug Girl and the Best Ever Playdate, we looked at Lulu, aka Ladybug Girl, and Finney as they navigate a playdate that doesn’t go well. We knew we needed something that would act as the catalyst for Lulu and Finney’s difficulties. Thinking back on our children’s early playdates, it wasn’t hard to remember how important toys were to them, and what a central role toys played in their social lives. We all remember that feeling of wanting a toy so badly, and the strange mix of feelings we could get if one of our friends had the very toy we wanted. So all we had to do was invent a toy that would, well, quite simply, be the best toy ever. As that is a tall order, we let our daughter make a list of things she would want in a toy, and the Rolly-Roo was born.

In doing the illustrations, the challenge was to find a way to show how Lulu and Finney were not having a bad time, but not really connecting either, and to have that contrast with the fun they have when they really start to engage with each other.

The trouble begins when Ladybug Girl’s focus on the toy gets in the way of playing with Finny.

But when the Rolly breaks and the girls are able to fix it . . . they really start having fun!

Ultimately we wanted to show that the best things in life aren’t things, and that being creative with a friend, even with the inevitable bumps along the way, can provide an opportunity to work things out and to make a friendship stronger and more vibrant.

The best-selling husband and wife team of David Soman and Jacky Davis share a peek behind the scenes of the eighth book in their beloved Ladybug Girl series, Ladybug Girl and the Best Ever Playdate.

Behind the Book by

Salina Yoon is the award-winning author of more than 200 books for children, including Penguin and Pinecone and Found. Yoon's latest picture book, Be a Friend, tells the story of Dennis, an ordinary boy who expresses himself in extraordinary ways—he's a mime! But being a mime can be lonely. It isn’t until Dennis meets a girl named Joy that he discovers the power of friendship.

Yoon shares a look behind Be a Friend, a simple yet emotional story with a muted palette.


Yoon Behind the Book 1I was sitting in bed on a Sunday morning with a cup of coffee and a notebook, and I scribbled some notes for an idea about a character who only communicates through mime. This was an idea for a humorous illustrated chapter book, I thought. I’d never written anything laugh-out-loud funny, or a book with chapters. It was a stretch. But that morning, I felt like goofing off from house chores and escaped with writing. I’d already thought of the title before I came downstairs: The Silent Adventures of Mime Boy. I chuckled.

Yoon Behind the Book 2On Monday, the character stayed with me. I started to think of a funny storyline for him. But I realized that this child, Mime Boy, would be teased in a school setting. And this broke my heart. There was nothing funny about it, and this wasn’t a chapter book I wanted to write. But the story had to be written.

I could have scrapped the idea right then, but I didn’t. Mime Boy wouldn’t let go. The character had something to say . . . and he needed a voice through pictures and minimal words, because he wanted to mime his story. This story had to be told as a picture book.

Yoon Behind the Book 3

I began to sketch poses for his imaginary scenes, and Dennis was born. I was so protective of Dennis. I didn’t want him bullied, or laughed at. I wanted him to simply be who he was, and explore the world through his eyes. And through his eyes, there was happiness and love and playfulness, even though others could not see it (or so he thought). But this did not prevent him from feeling alone and different.

Yoon Behind the Book 4

The moment I knew that I had a book was when I had Dennis kick his imaginary ball when he was sad and lonely, and on the next page, someone catches it. Her name was Joy. My heart melted when I envisioned this scene. Someone reached out in a way that he understood. This is a pivotal scene in the book where he finally makes a connection with another child, and this is where he finds true joy . . . the joy from having a friend. The revised book title reflects this theme.

Yoon Behind the Book 5

The tone of the story was set. I struggled with an appropriate art style for this book because it was unlike any story I had written before. I could not draw him with thick black outlines like I do with my Penguin series. It would have been too bright, too flat and too cheerful.

I chose to illustrate the book with pencil on paper, because I could not think of anything more intimate than that. I had a deep connection to Dennis. The pencil drawings were scanned, then colored digitally, with a background of tonal antique paper. I looked at old Marcel Marceau footage for inspiration in black and white, and wanted Dennis’ story to be in a timeless world that told a timeless tale.

While the palette was neutral overall, I used the color red to depict the lines of his imagination. This would be the bridge between Dennis and Joy, and eventually, with the rest of the world.

One of my favorite scenes in the book is where the children have their Show and Tell. Most of the kids share their objects and talk about it, but Dennis mimes the metamorphosis of a butterfly instead in various stages.

Yoon Behind the Book 6

Dennis discovers that true friends accept each other as they are. Friends don’t expect you to change, and you don’t have to change for them. And friends can open your eyes to a different world, too.

Yoon Behind the Book 7

Not everyone can relate with being a mime, but we can all relate to feeling different.

And, like Dennis, with the help of our friends, we too can shine.

Yoon Behind the Book 8


Check out the book trailer for Be a Friend:

RELATED CONTENT: Read our review of Be a Friend.

Salina Yoon is the award-winning author of more than 200 books for children, including Penguin and Pinecone and Found. Yoon's latest picture book, Be a Friend, tells the story of Dennis, an ordinary boy who expresses himself in extraordinary ways—he's a mime! But being a mime can be lonely. It isn’t until Dennis meets a girl named Joy that he discovers the power of friendship. Yoon shares a look behind Be a Friend, a simple yet emotional story with a muted palette.

Behind the Book by

I wrote When I Grow Up because, as any tiger mom can tell you, the first moment you hold your child, you expect them to become the president of the United States. But as time passed and I started to get to know my son—while also learning what it means to be a mother—things started changing. 

I started to see what his interests were and what he is good at. I also saw him reject some of the things I wanted him to excel at as a “perfect” child. For example, soccer and basketball . . . NG: That means not good! Often there was either a meltdown or major bribery (OK, you can get a coveted Pokémon card) to get him to behave. Terrible! I learned the hard way how bad of a mistake it is to bribe your child. They will argue about doing things they should be doing unless they get a reward.  

I also started to see that I’m not as much of a tiger mom as I thought I would be. I thought I could teach/force my son to be a piano-playing, math-loving, trilingual basketball superstar who loves to read and volunteers at the soup kitchen where he finds the cure for cancer during his breaks.

I saw his likes and dislikes shift and change at a rapid pace. One day he’d say he wanted to be a gardener when he grew up (because he was off looking at the flowers during soccer games instead of keeping an eye on the ball). The next day he’d say he wanted to be the next King of Pop after discovering the music of Michael Jackson. Then a baker, because like Oprah, HE LOVES BREAD! Then a Legoland tour guide so he could go on the rides for free.

When I first thought about writing When I Grow Up, my son was only 7. I thought, What can I do, as I watch him grow, to make sure he finds happiness in his life and career? How did my mom help me?  

When I was growing up in Queens, New York, I remember when my family and I saw an Asian-American female face sitting at the local news anchor desk for the first time. This was SHOCKING! In those days, the only Asian faces we saw on TV were the men in cheesy, English-dubbed kung fu movies. The men wore long beards, had long hair piled on top of their heads in the now popular “man bun” and fought with long sticks. My father screamed at the top of his lungs as if he’d won the Powerball jackpot: “Ghang qwai lie, ghang qwai lie! Doong Fahng rhen zhai dian shir saang!” Translation? “Hurry up! Hurry up! There’s an ASIAN person on TV!”

My mom and I came running. There she was, Kaity Tong, co-anchoring the 5 p.m. newscast next to Tom Snyder on WABC. I was 13 years old. The year was 1983. (Ms. Tong, by the way, is still an anchor today in NYC. You go, girl!)  

My mother turned to me and asked, “If she [Kaity Tong] can do it, why can’t you?” She went on to say something to the effect of, You are inquisitive like a good reporter, you love talking to people, you like to wear pretty clothes, and you love makeup! (Hah! How shallow I was!)  

But my mom planted the seed that day, and it grew from there. I never strayed from that idea, and it became my dream. My dream started to come true six years later, and in 1989, I had my first newsroom experience. I was an unpaid intern at CBS News. Ten years after that, I became the news anchor on the very same show where I was an intern.

But it was during that internship when I realized if you do what you love, getting any size paycheck feels like a bonus. As I mentioned earlier, I worked for FREE as an intern, and I loved every minute of it. The experience was priceless.

When I Grow Up is not only written to entertain young, budding minds, but also to help other moms do what my mom did for me. The first step is to help your child find their natural talent. The second step is to see what makes them happy. The third step is helping your child figure out how to combine steps one and two into a successful life. If you can do that, then you’re halfway there to guaranteed happiness for your kid!

The other half is finding love. I am lucky I found it and have it, but I haven’t figured out how to teach my son how to find it. But if I do, you can bet I’ll write another book.
 


A little boy shares with his mom his dreams of what he might be when he grows up in When I Grow Up, a tender picture book from the host of  The Talk and Big Brother, Julie Chen, and New York Times bestselling artist and Caldecott Honor recipient Diane Goode. Chen is a mother, a television personality and a producer who lives with her family in California.

When I Grow Up is not only written to entertain young, budding minds, but also to help other moms do what my mom did for me. The first step is to help your child find their natural talent. The second step is to see what makes them happy. The third step is helping your child figure out how to combine steps one and two into a successful life. If you can do that, then you’re halfway there to guaranteed happiness for your kid!

Behind the Book by

I am not a superstitious person by nature. I walk under ladders easily. I adore black cats. But I do have one ritual I adhere to religiously to ward off bad luck. Before I leave on a trip, I always call my godmother, Aunt Phyllis. I need to hear her say, “Geyn gezunt aun kumen gezunt,” which is Yiddish for “Go healthy and come back healthy,” before I can leave my home.

Did Aunt Phyllis first hear this phrase from her mother? She’s not sure. One thing I am sure of is that Aunt Phyllis’ mother, Sadie, did not hear these words from her own mother, Taube. This is because, in 1911, when Sadie was 13, Taube put her on a ship to sail across the Atlantic Ocean to America so Sadie could have a better life. She would “geyn gezunt”—go in good health—but she would not “kumen gezunt”—come back in good health. She would not come back at all. That was the point. Eastern Europe was not a safe place for Jews at the start of the 20th century. Sadie was being sent away so that she might have a better life.

I don’t remember when Aunt Phyllis first told me the story of Sadie’s voyage to America—how she was given a piece of paper with the name and address of a relative and told not to lose it, and how she held the paper so tightly that by the time she arrived in America, all the ink had worn off on her hand. I also don’t remember when I first heard the story of Ruth, my maternal grandmother, who came to America in 1900 with her mother Fannie, bringing little but a pair of precious Shabbos candlesticks—which my grandmother gave me shortly before she died at age 99.

That’s something I love about being a writer; there are countless stories lodged inside my brain and heart waiting for the right moment to emerge and tap me on the shoulder. These two stories arrived in 2015 as I gazed at newspaper photos of Syrian refugees washing up on European shores. I stared at the faces of those in search of a better life, and something felt familiar to me. My family also had a history of fleeing persecution. It was time for those stories to be told.

All I had to go on were the bare bones of two family stories. I decided to combine Sadie and Ruth into one character, “Gittel.” I couldn’t bear to put her on a ship all alone (imagine how Sadie’s mother must have felt) so I gave her a traveling companion: a doll named Basha. I researched living conditions on the ships sailing for America in the early 1900s, and I read about the way new immigrants were “processed” upon arrival at Ellis Island. Just as importantly, I did what I call “emotional research,” asking myself questions such as, what would it feel like to be a young girl leaving behind everything I knew and loved? What would it feel like to arrive in a new country all alone unable to speak the language? What would I carry from my old life into my new life? What makes a home?

My hope is that Gittel’s Journey: An Ellis Island Story, a book based upon my own family history, will inspire others to tell their immigrant stories. And I hope my book will remind readers of all ages the importance of greeting new members of our society with open arms. It is our responsibility to provide them with what they are seeking: a safe place to call home. Which is something that everyone deserves.

"My hope is that Gittel’s Journey: An Ellis Island Story, a book based upon my own family history, will inspire others to tell their immigrant stories."

Behind the Book by

I first read about “bicycle face” around the time my daughter was learning to ride a two-wheel. The term popped up on a number of online news sites and referred to a bogus medical affliction intended to scare people, especially women, away from riding during the bicycle craze of the 1890s. It was a wild story and seemed almost too regressive to be real, even for the time, so I dove into old chronicles to learn more.

I discovered that bicycle face was just one of many alleged bicycle-related maladies. There were countless others, like “bicycle hump” and “bicycle leg.” Bicycle face, it was said, came from the strain of riding and resulted in bulging eyes and a clenched jaw. It was a threat to both men and women but purported to afflict those of a delicate nature (read: women) with greater frequency and to a more serious degree.

This quote nicely sums up the fictitious condition as it pertained to women: “No woman on a wheel has yet solved the problem of self-consciousness; and of all the sad sights that greet the eye that of the woman in baggy breeches plowing her way along the boulevard with a stern, fixed, anxious face betraying apprehension of some unseen danger, combined with the consciousness of the popular scrutiny and comment and sometimes a lurking suspicion that not all may be right with her, is the saddest. In such cases as these, the strain upon the special brain center must be not only incessant but tremendous, and it must of necessity sooner or later produce the bicycle face which the victim must carry to the grave . . .” (From the Chicago Tribune, July 7, 1895.)

The threat of bicycle face was only a sliver of the serious pushback early wheelwomen encountered. Critics also said riding a bicycle threatened to “unsex” women, damaging not only their reproductive organs but their inherent femininity as well, turning them into loose young ladies, disobedient wives and negligent mothers.

Fortunately, what I read wasn’t all misogynistic headlines. Researching bicycle face led me to learn about the many ways spirited wheelwomen flat out ignored religious, medical and patriarchal calls for them to cease riding.

Early wheelwomen loved riding and were good at it. They taught each other to fix their own bikes, established their own magazine called The Wheelwoman, and otherwise had loads of fun socializing, racing and using bikes to make their work easier. They also adjusted their fashion so they could ride unencumbered and look good doing so—hello, short skirts and bloomers!

In writing Born to Ride, I wanted to reclaim bicycle face. I wanted to retroactively turn that silly threat on its head and transform it into something celebratory, as befits bold young readers and riders.

I watched my own young rider as she learned to pedal and coast without a steadying hand on the seat behind her and saw in her face a thousand shades of joy. Riding a bike makes her feel strong and free. That joy and strength is what I hope to have captured in Born to Ride, and in doing so, pay homage to early wheelwomen and their relentless courage and sense of fun.

“To men, the bicycle in the beginning was merely a new toy, another machine added to the long list of devices they knew in their work and play. To women, it was a steed upon which they rode into a new world.”—Munsey’s Magazine, 1896.

For more about the remarkable history of wheelwomen, read Sue Macy’s seminal book Wheels of Change: How Women Rode the Bicycle to Freedom (With a Few Flat Tires Along the Way).

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our review of Born to Ride.

Author Larissa Theule talks about the bogus medical affliction known as "bicycle face" and how it inspired her new picture book,

Born to Ride

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Feature by

Black History Month is the perfect time to acquaint youngsters with the traditions and accomplishments of African Americans. To help celebrate this period of observance, BookPage has rounded up a group of standout picture books—beautifully illustrated titles that will teach young readers about some of the seminal events and individuals that make the African-American legacy so rich. The history makers and groundbreakers featured in the books below helped shape our identity as a nation. Their stories are truly worth sharing.

Remembering a baseball legend
Spinning a treasured childhood memory into a winning story for children, Sharon Robinson presents a loving portrait of her famous father in Testing the Ice: A True Story About Jackie Robinson. This warm-hearted tale is set in rural Connecticut, where the Robinsons have a home on a beautiful lake. Young Sharon and her friends swim and dive all summer long; Jackie, meanwhile, refuses to go near the water. The youngsters don’t understand his reluctance to enjoy the lake until he bravely ventures out onto its icy surface one winter day. With this act of courage, the reason for Jackie’s fear becomes clear to Sharon and her friends, and their adoration for the great ball player grows. Focusing on her father’s life after sports, Robinson gives readers a glimpse of what Jackie was like away from the baseball diamond, as he assumed the roles of author, businessman and civil rights spokesperson. Author of a number of acclaimed books, including Promises to Keep: How Jackie Robinson Changed America, Robinson reveals the human side of a star athlete with this poignant story. Featuring playful illustrations by Coretta Scott King Award-winner Kadir Nelson, Testing the Ice is a touching memorial to a man of integrity.

Finding salvation in song
Sisters and music fans, Ann Ingalls and Maryann MacDonald became intrigued by the story of Mary Lou Williams when they lived in Kansas City, Missouri, former home of the jazz queen. Inspired by the sisters’ interviews, research and immersion into Williams’ music, The Little Piano Girl: The Story of Mary Lou Williams, Jazz Legend is a spirited tribute to a remarkable artist. Growing up in Atlanta in the early 1900s, Mary Lou learns early on that music will save her. At the age of four, she’s able to play her mama’s organ, and the experience is revelatory. But when the family moves to Pittsburgh to look for better-paying jobs, they leave the organ behind. The jeering and loneliness Mary Lou experiences as the new kid in town make music extra-meaningful to her: “Even without a keyboard she could do it. Tapping on the tabletop, she beat back the bad sounds and sang out her sadness.” After a kind-hearted neighbor hears about Mary Lou’s talent, she invites the little girl into her home and lets her practice on her piano. Mary Lou proceeds to enchant everyone around her with her marvelous playing. By the age of seven, she’s performing in public—showing signs of the jazz queen she’ll become. Giselle Potter provides the book’s beautifully detailed paintings, giving the story a vintage feel: The women wear dainty, printed dresses, the gents sport jaunty hats and everybody shimmies to Mary Lou’s music. This is a true story of triumph.

Taming the Wild West
A terrific way to introduce young readers to the Old West, Bad News for Outlaws: The Remarkable Life of Bass Reeves, Deputy U.S. Marshall tells the story of a legendary lawman. Big Bass Reeves sits proud in the saddle and cuts a forbidding figure, but he’s as honest as they come. A man of integrity and courage, he’s also an expert shot. Bass spends his early years as a slave in Texas, but after the Civil War, he becomes a free man. He settles in Arkansas and soon gets hired on as a deputy to assist Judge Isaac C. Parker in bringing justice to the Indian Territory. Bass is resourceful and successful at his job, using his wits as well as his gun to bring in 3,000 outlaws over the course of a 32-year career. He also stands tall in the face of racism, defying white men who dislike the idea of a black deputy. Author Vaunda Micheaux Nelson brings impressive authenticity to this story of bandits and cowboys, using folksy metaphors and slang words from the Old West. Beloved artist R. Gregory Christie captures the essence of Texas in his illustrations. Stark desert landscapes contrast with expanses of deep blue sky, and Bass himself appears immense and dignified, with a wide mustache, a dark, stately suit and a gleaming deputy badge. Nelson rounds out the tale with a bibliography, a timeline and supplementary information about the Indian Territory, making Bad News an irresistible history lesson.

In the Ring with Ali
Sure to have a magnetic effect on young readers, Muhammad Ali: The People’s Champion is a vibrant biography of one of America’s most outstanding athletes. Written by award-winning author Walter Dean Myers, the book provides a fascinating overview of Ali’s career. Born Cassius Marcellus Clay in Louisville, Kentucky, in 1942, the future champ starts boxing at the age of 12. At the 1960 Olympics in Rome, he wins a gold medal—the first in a string of triumphs that will eventually include three world heavyweight titles. In 1964, Clay joins the Nation of Islam and changes his name to Muhammad Ali. Outspoken on race and religion, he quickly becomes one of the most controversial figures of his generation. “I am America,” he says. “I am the part you won’t recognize. But get used to me. Black, confident, cocky.” Fighting until the age of 39, he retires with a record of 56 wins and three losses. Ali’s career is dynamically chronicled by Myers, who concludes the book with a helpful timeline of the boxer’s life. Adding wonderful energy to the narrative, Alix Delinois’ fluid crayon and pastel drawings swirl with kaleidoscopic color. A compelling little biography of an uncompromising athlete, this is a book that will interest readers of all ages.

Words to Live By
A stirring tribute to African-American history and to the important role religious faith has played in it over the centuries, The Beatitudes: From Slavery to Civil Rights by Carole Boston Weatherford takes readers on a lyrical journey through the past. Using the Beatitudes from the Bible as a platform for her extended free-verse poem, Weatherford traces the arc of African-American history, starting with the slave era and ending with the swearing-in of President Barack Obama. Along the way, Weatherford alludes to a host of notable African-American figures, including Harriet Tubman, Booker T. Washington, Rosa Parks and Marian Anderson—individuals whose determination and endurance helped make freedom a reality. Tim Ladwig’s beautifully realistic renderings of U. S. Colored Troops, Freedom Riders and civil rights organizers give the book a documentary feel. With The Beatitudes, Weatherford—winner of the Caldecott Honor forher book Moses: When Harriet Tubman Led Her People to Freedom—offers an inspiring review of black history and the ways in which spirituality has guided its leaders. The book includes brief biographies of the famous figures who appear in Weatherford’s poem. This is a special testament to the legacy of a people—a book that’s sure to be treasured by future generations of readers.

Black History Month is the perfect time to acquaint youngsters with the traditions and accomplishments of African Americans. To help celebrate this period of observance, BookPage has rounded up a group of standout picture books—beautifully illustrated titles that will teach young readers about some of…

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