I hope my girls aren’t writing a biography about me, because it would read like this:

Last night Daddy stayed in New York because of work.  Mama let us stay up really late, gave us ice cream for dinner, and let us skip a bath.  This morning she was yelling at us because we weren’t getting ready for school fast enough.  Whose fault is that?

At least I can take comfort in the fact that no one will ever want to read my biography.  That is one of the many differences between me and the extraordinary (so I’m told) Mark Twain.  He was a brilliant author—both entertaining and exceedingly clever—and, as readers, we are lucky that his eldest daughter followed in his writerly footsteps.

Susy Clemens was 13 years old when she decided to write a biography of her “Papa.”  Barbara Kerley wrote in an author’s note, “I know [13-year-old girls] tend to call it like they see it.  Susy did not disappoint me.”  Throughout the book are passages from Susy’s biography, in her own words, unobtrusive misspellings and all.  Her writing is charming and funny.  I suppose we know who she takes after.

As a whole, the book is as much about Susy (according to her Papa) as it is about Twain.  Her biography would later be published in its entirety, annotated with “copious comments by her father,” as the title page puts it.  The biography was published under the title Papa: An Intimate Biography of Mark Twain, if you are inclined to read the full text and commentary, but all of the best quotes have already been pulled for this book.

Splitting the focus onto a remarkable young daughter is no surprise if you’ve read What to Do about Alice? (also by Kerley and Fotheringham), a biography of Alice Roosevelt.  Alice only offers a few scant details about President Theodore Roosevelt (you know, little things like that treaty he was trying to arrange between Russia and Japan), and that’s a good thing.  There are any number of boring old biographies about presidents and famous authors, but giving their spunky daughters a place in history is absolutely brilliant.

If you want some additional non-boring information about Mark Twain, go for Sid Fleischman’s The Trouble Begins at 8: A Life of Mark Twain in the Wild, Wild West.  I have nothing but love for a book that opens with, “Mark Twain was born fully grown, with a cheap cigar clamped between his teeth.”  Trouble is for a middle grade audience, as lower elementary kids won’t know Twain from Shakespeare.  What they do know, or should, is the spunky heroine.  This book is just perfect for that.

Nonfiction Monday is at the Miss Rumphius Effect today.

“Not so long ago and not so far away, people with guns could take a family, burn a house and disappear, leaving a small child alone in the world.”

So begins Sélavi, That Is Life, a story of street children in Port-au-Prince that spans the 1980s and 1990s.  The children in the story find ways to look out for each other and share what little they have, but they live in constant fear of the “people with guns” (a suitable way to explain a military presence without getting into politics).

One day the children are chased away and threatened by soldiers, and Sélavi escapes to a church, where he asks the congregants to help his friends.  They join together to build an orphanage, Lafanmi Sélavi, which opened in 1986 and housed about 500 children.  After it was completed, those involved tried to help others by painting murals with messages like, “If children are sleeping on the streets, what are we doing for them?”

The military continued to pose a threat, whiting out their murals, and eventually destroying Lafanmi Sélavi.  The orphanage was later rebuilt, and the children also started a radio station, Radyo Timoun, in 1994.  The radio station was important to those young activists, because their words were written “in the air where they cannot be painted out.”

This gently told story is followed by factual endnotes and a supplemental essay by Edwidge Danticat.  There are no dates in the story proper, and key figures like Jean-Bertrand Aristide are unnamed.  The only thing that matters is the children—they are the ones who are given names, backstories, and credit for their social impact.  But the book’s back matter is important for the adults who share this book with children, so they can fill in details as appropriate.  Danticat’s essay certainly informed this review.

The watercolor illustrations are very well suited to the story.  I especially like how thoughts, memories, and even radio waves are much more abstract than the “here and now” (or is it “then and there”?) images.  Ideas and actualities often share the same page in this story, so the contrast in style helps to make that distinction.  The black and white photographs that accompany the back matter help drive home a message to young readers that this is a real story about real people.

Nonfiction Monday is at Lost between the Pages today.

Ellen J. Prager.  Earthquakes.  Illustrated by Susan Greenstein.  National Geographic, 2002.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 7.

The unfortunate thing about this title that the buildings sort of look like they’re dancing.  I made that comment off-hand before opening the book, and it put my not-quite-5 year old in a silly mood—not quite the tone I wanted to set.  The opening words (“Shake, rattle, and roll”) did nothing to help.

What I like about this book is just about everything else.  It’s great for the youngest nonfiction readers, with concise, accessible text that uses analogies to help to help explain this complex topic.  Here is a sample passage:

“Most earthquakes happen because the Earth’s outer surface is moving.  Like a giant jigsaw puzzle, the planet’s outer surface is made up of big pieces called plates.  These plates move very slowly in different directions, so slowly you can’t feel them moving.” (p. 14)

The advantage of this book over the other two, content-wise, is its simple diagram of earthquake-resistant architecture.  It also provided the best advice of what to in the event of an earthquake, and included a simple science experiment to show how buildings shift during a quake.

Franklyn M. Branley.  Earthquakes.  Illustrated by Megan Lloyd.  HarperCollins, 2005.  34 pages.  5 to 8.

The illustrations in this book are much more realistic than in the National Geographic book.  The text goes a little more in-depth, and it uses historical examples of earthquakes.  Tsunamis are discussed, and there is more coverage of the destruction caused to things like bridges and underground pipes.  But the text is still simple enough for young children to understand:

“Every earthquake has a center.  That’s where it all begins.  Parts of the earth move up and down or sideways and make waves that spread out and go through the whole earth.  They are called seismic waves.  The word comes from seismos, a Greek word meaning to shake.  Scientists all over the world measure the waves on seismometers.” (p. 8-9)

At the end of the book, there is a page with more earthquake facts, and a list of the top ten most destructive earthquakes in terms of lives lost.  Looks like Haiti will be on that list in the next revision.

Seymour Simon.  Earthquakes.  Smithsonian/Collins, 2006.  32 pages.  Age 7 to 12.

The advantage of this book, besides a more sophisticated text, is the use of actual photographs to show how much destruction an earthquake can really cause.  Those are supplemented by illustrations that explain concepts like fault lines, and maps that show earthquake zones.

The book provides greater explanations of things like seismographs and the Richter Scale, and introduces the Mercali Intensity Scale.  Of the three, this book is the best bet for older readers:

“Our planet’s solid rocky crust floats on the mantle, a 1,800-mile-thick layer of very hot and dense rock that slowly churns around like a huge pot of boiling soup in very slow motion.  The slowly moving mantle carries along the solid crust, which is cracked like an eggshell into a number of huge pieces called plates.” (p. 13)

Nonfiction Monday is at SimplyScience Blog today.

Betsy Franco.  Mathematickles!  Illustrated by Steven Salerno.  Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2003.  40 pages.  Age 7 to 10.

You know what’s weird?  The cultural phenomenon of math anxiety.  And the belief that mathematics and the humanities are antithetical.  Hardly so.  Just pick up a popular math book, and you’ll see what I mean.  Anything by Ian Stewart will do nicely.

Or, if you really do have math anxiety, maybe you should start with my new favorite poetry book of all time.  “Of all time” may be an exaggeration, but I’ve fallen for it pretty hard.

Mathematickles! uses arithmetic conventions and comically misused Cartesian coordinate planes to describe the seasons with brevity and precision.  One example is this multiplication table:

Or there’s “Bird Taking Flight,” which graphs the linear equation y = (⅔)x  …OK, maybe that one looks better on a graph.  But how about this one?—

I do think you’ll like it, if you’re human and like seasons and live in the world and have a quirky sense of humor.  You don’t have to be a math person.  Well, maybe I’m not the best judge.  Even more reason to pick up the book and see for yourself!

Poetry Friday is hosted by Irene Latham today.  I bet you dollars to doughnuts that it’s an otherwise math-free zone.

Sure, it’s President’s Day, but behind all those men stood 46 women—the first ladies. ^[1]  Of all of them, I have two favorites:  Eleanor Roosevelt and Dolley Madison.

I think the first characteristic of a decent illustrated biography about Eleanor Roosevelt should be the fact that it’s not part of the ValueTales series.  I think the existence of those books in my home library growing up can, by itself, explain my love for public libraries.  The series was comprised of horrible revisionist biographies that somehow reasoned that the best way to teach values was to give imaginary friends to prominent historical figures (to say nothing of the late 1970s cartoon illustrations).

Oh, but this is NONFICTION Monday…moving on…

Doreen Rappaport.  Eleanor: Quiet No More.  Illustrated by Gary Kelley.  Hyperion Books, 2009.  48 pages.  Age 6+.

While this book does work its way through Eleanor’s social milestones and political accomplishments, it also looks at her personal transformation, from an arms-length, seen-but-not-heard Victorian upbringing, to the confident, active humanitarian who left her mark on the world.  The prose is concise, but the engaging narrative covers a lot of ground.  Each page is enhanced with poignant quotations.  The illustrations are moving and match the tone of the book throughout.  It’s a great introduction to the life of an amazing woman, accessible to young readers, and nary an imaginary friend within.

Don Brown.  Dolley Madison Saves George Washington  Houghton Mifflin, 2007.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

This book does not discuss Dolley’s early life, except to describe her as a “farm girl.”    Let’s ignore how that belittles her Quaker upbringing, or how she tragically lost her first husband and a son to yellow fever.  Truth is, she’s only famous for marrying that heartbreaker, James Madison.

As a first lady, Dolley became a charming socialite who was known for her dinner parties.  But there was also that one time she facilitated the rescue of a portrait of George Washington from the soon-to-be-burning presidential mansion.  It’s a good story, and worthy of being the central element of this simple biography.

My favorite spread is the book’s treatment of the War of 1812.  On the left we have a finger-pointing George III who says, “You side with our enemies!”  On the right we have Uncle Sam, poised for a fistfight in period dress (excepting an anachronistic I Want You! hat), saying, “You kidnap our sailors!”  Love it.

So, Nonfiction Monday is happening right here today!  Leave your links in the comments, and I’ll post them at intervals throughout the day.  Use this permalink for your incoming links:

http://artofirreverence.com/2010/02/15/nfmon1/

News

Anastasia Suen has created a Nonfiction Monday listserv, and bloggers and authors are invited to join.

Cybils Winner

There is a lot of excitement about the 2009 Cybils winners (announced yesterday!), so there are several posts about the nonfiction picture book winner, The Day Glo Brothers by Chris Barton (text) and Tony Persiani (art):

• Roberta at Wrapped in Foil
• Shirley at SimplyScience Blog
• Jone at Check It Out
• Anastasia at Picture Book of the Day

Arts & Recreation

• At Bookends, Lynn and Cindy review Lights On Broadway: A Theatrical Tour from A to Z by Harriet Ziefert (text) and Elliot Kreloff (art).
• At Wendie’s Wanderings, Wendie reviews The Best of Figure Skating by Kathy Allen.
• BookMoot has a review of What Can You Do with an Old Red Shoe: A Green Activity Book about Reuse by Anna Alter.

Geography/History/Biography

• At Playing by the Book, Zoe reviews As the Crow Flies: A First Book of Maps by Gail Hartman (text) and Harvey Stevenson (art).
• At Charlotte’s Library, Charlotte reviews The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind: Creating Currents of Electricity and Hope by William Kamkwamba and Brian Mealer.
• At Jean Little Library, Jennifer reviews Spies of the Mississippi by Rick Bowers.
• At Abby (the) Librarian, Abby reviews Child of the Civil Rights Movement by Paula Young Shelton (text) and Raul Colon (art).
• At Whispers of Dawn, Sally reviews The Pirate Queen by Emily Arnold McCully.
• At Becky’s Book Reviews, Becky reviews Pick & Shovel Poet: The Journey of Pascal D’Angelo by Jim Murphy.
• At Young Readers, Becky reviews Big George: How A Shy Boy Became President Washington by Anne Rockwell (text) and Matt Phelan (art).
• At A Patchwork of Books, Amanda reviews John Brown: His Fight for Freedom by John Hendrix.
• At Biblio File, Jennie reviews A Life in the Wild: George Schaller’s Struggle to Save the Last Great Beasts by Pamela S. Turner, and The Great and Only Barnum: The Tremendous, Stupendous Life of Showman P. T. Barnum by Candace Fleming.
• At Lost between the Pages, Anna reviews Muckrakers by Anne Bausum.

Science

• At In Need of Chocolate, Sarah reviews Dino Dung: The Scoop on Fossil Feces by Dr. Karen Chin & Thom Holmes (text), and Karen Carr (art).
• At proseandkahn, Brenda reviews Charles Darwin and the Beagle Adventure by A.J. Wood and Clint Twist.
• At SimplyScience Blog, Shirley reviews Toco Toucans: Bright Enough to Disappear by Anastasia Suen.
• At Wild about Nature, Kim reviews Adopted by an Owl: The True Story of Jackson the Owl by Robbyn Smith van Frankenhuyzen (text) and Gijsbert van Frankenhuysen (art).
• At The Cat and the Fiddle, Michelle discusses the ending of All Pigs Are Beautiful by Dick King-Smith.
• At Raising Readers and Writers, Julie reviews The Edible Pyramid: Good Eating Every Day by Loreen Leedy.

^[1] For the tally, we are counting Buchanan’s niece, Harriet Lane.  If When we get to transition to the term “first spouses,” we’ll see where that leaves Harriet.

Okay, so I’m guilty of kvetching whenever you start to fall, but it’s not really not you that I hate.  It’s the bitter cold and—worst of all—the piercing wind.  I really shouldn’t be judging you by your friends, though, because when you’re by yourself I usually enjoy your company.  Especially when my car is tucked away in the garage.

I’m sorry, snow.  Let me make it up to you by talking about a couple books starring you.

Mark Cassino and John Nelson, PhD.  The Story of Snow: The Science of Winter’s Wonder.  Chronicle Books, 2009.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

Snow crystals, the building blocks of snowflakes, are absolutely beautiful, as the magnified photographs in The Story of Snow show.  Regardless of how you feel toward winter weather, this book will give you a little more respect for it.  The text is simple, with one prominent nutshell sentence for each spread, and supplemental information in smaller fonts.  You could have a cohesive book by just reading the large-font sentences, if you wanted to adapt the book for a young child, but all of the information in the book is rather interesting.  There are no wasted words.

Melissa Stewart.  Under the Snow.  Illustrated by Constance R. Bergum.  Peachtree, 2009.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

Under the Snow is a quiet, enjoyable exploration of how different animals survive the winter.  Some hide.  Some huddle.  Some slow down.  Some nap.  Some sleep straight through.  And then there’s the wood frog, who doesn’t hide too deep because he can freeze solid and still thaw out okay in spring.

It’s an interesting assortment of facts.  Many are general (frog, turtle), but others are quite specific, including the red-spotted newt, which, as it happens, doesn’t even slow down.  The illustrations are soft and subdued, and broken into panels to give things a little visual interest. I don’t know about you, but if I were going to sleep through the winter, soft and subdued would sound just about right.

As far as content goes, here’s a little bit about what I learned:

L. L. Owens.  Hanukkah.  Illustrated by Holli Conger.  Magic Wagon, 2010.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

By reading Hanukkah, I learned about when Hanukkah is on the Hebrew calendar; what the biblical origin story is; why (possibly) it lasts 8 days; what the menorah is, and rules for use; what Hanukkah’s three blessings are; and customs like dreidels, foods, and songs.

Sheila Anderson.  Kwanzaa.  Illustrated by Holli Conger.  Magic Wagon, 2010.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

By reading Kwanzaa, I learned about what Kwanzaa is and what its name means; the names, meanings, and celebrations of the seven principles; what the different decorations are and what they symbolize; why gifts are given (to reward accomplishments and encourage success—how cool is that?); and that there is a big feast on the last day.

L. L. Owens.  Christmas.  Illustrated by Holli Conger.  Magic Wagon, 2010.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

I used Christmas as my control title, because I grew up celebrating it and actually know a little bit about it.  The book covered the basics, like the nativity story and some common traditions like going to church and decorating trees.  It spent a page talking about secular ways to celebrate the holiday, and several paragraphs talking about different traditions around the world, both of which I appreciate.  There was also a page dedicated to Santa.  The wording was mostly non-committal, but still came out in favor of him being real.  I suppose that would suit the needs of most young children; and the rest will have parents who interject.

The other titles in the series are:

• Chinese New Year
• Cinco de Mayo
• Ramadan

Nonfiction Monday is at In Need of Chocolate today.

Time for (my) favorites!

Leah Wilcox.  Waking Beauty.  Illustrated by Lydia Monks.  Putnam, 2008.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

In this fractured fairy tale, a dim-but-likeable prince in search of a dragon to slay happens across a loudly-snoring princess instead.  (Apparently they sound the same.)  Three fairies are on hand to tell the prince how to wake her.  They repeatedly (and with increasing creativity) set up a couplet to rhyme with the word kiss, but the prince has no sense of meter and keeps interrupting with his own ideas.  Physical comedy ensues.  I won’t spoil it with a play-by-play, but my favorite moment is when the dead-asleep princess ends up floating on her hoop skirt in a pond while the prince fishes her out with a too-small net.  It’s priceless.  The interrupted rhymes make it a great read-aloud.  Wilcox and Monks also teamed up to create Falling for Rapunzel (2005), which is in a similar vein and just as funny.

Leslie Helakoski.  Big Chickens Fly the Coop.  Illustrated by Henry Cole.  Dutton, 2008.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

Four comically-dressed chickens (my favorite wears a pink tutu and green boots) decide to put their fears aside and go visit the farm house, but they have a little trouble getting there.  The first structure they find has a roof and a door—those sound like a farm house—but it also has a tail?  Oops, it’s the dog house.  The language is absolutely gorgeous and fun to read:

“The chickens flounced, trounced, and body-bounced.  The dogs pounced.  Drooling muzzles dribbled.  Frightened yard birds quibbled.  Sharp teeth crashed.  Pointed beaks smashed.  Snouts snapped.  Wings flapped.”

But it should be a requirement to add chicken noises.  For me, it’s a loud, frequently-interjected buccaw.  That may or may not be the correct spelling, but I’ll happily demonstrate the sound in person.  Big Chickens Fly the Coop is the sequel to Big Chickens, which we haven’t read yet, but it’s at the top of our list now.

Daniel Pinkwater.  Bear’s Picture.  Houghton Mifflin, 2008.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

Bear’s Picture is one of the books we read for our first Graves girls read! post, so you can read about it there.  While a bit thick on the IT’S OK TO BE DIFFERENT!!! moralizing, it’s probably my personal favorite of the lot, mainly for its nuanced illustrations.  That’s the adult in me talking, though, and since the Ladybug Award is chosen by the kids, I don’t think that Bear’s Picture stands a chance, or that it’s even a particularly good candidate.

If I factored kid appeal into choosing my favorite, I think I’d be rooting for Waking Beauty.  Rhys voted for Big Chickens Fly the Coop, and Geraldine voted for Those Darn Squirrels (which is a little odd since she had very recently said she preferred A Visitor for Bear to Those Darn Squirrels, but I don’t ask questions like that.  I’m pretty temperamental with my favorites, too).

More Ladybug Award reading:
Graves girls read! No. 13.1 – Bedtime at the Swamp and Little Blue Truck
Graves girls read! No. 13.2 – A Visitor for Bear and Those Darn Squirrels
Graves girls read! No. 13.3 – Tadpole Rex, Too Many Toys, and Bats at the Beach

Kurt Cyrus.  Tadpole Rex.  Harcourt, 2008.  40 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

Tadpole Rex is a tiny little thing born in some prehistoric age, alongside the alamosaurus and triceratops.  (Consider my knowledge of prehistory expended.)  After he sprouts arms and legs, he lets out a ferocious (if tiny) “Ribbet!” and goes on the attack.  The illustrations play around with scale, making him sometimes look as large as his inner-tyrannosaurus warrants, and other times look suitably small compared to the actual size of the dinosaurs.  An end note substantiates the somewhat silly text with information about evolution and environmental concerns.

David Shannon.  Too Many Toys.  Blue Sky Press, 2008.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

None of us cared for this title.  It has a few characteristics of a cautionary tale about excess, but fails to make any sort of point, unless that point is that a cardboard box is the Best Toy Ever.  It’s the kind of book where parents will nod in agreement, and kids will shrug.  I’m not a fan of the illustrations, with the grotesquely exaggerated faces and the hard black lines that make everyone look like a poorly-stitched rag doll.  But that’s just me.

Brian Lies.  Bats at the Beach.  Houghton Mifflin, 2006.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

The bats have a pretty normal day at the beach, except they do it all at night.  And they eat bugs—gross.  And instead of flying kites they are the kites.  And they sit under those little paper drink umbrellas.  Okay there are a lot of differences to spot, and therein lies the fun.  It’s definitely the best of this bunch.  We also recommend Bats at the Library.

More Ladybug Award reading:
Graves girls read! No. 13.1 – Bedtime at the Swamp and Little Blue Truck
Graves girls read! No. 13.2 – A Visitor for Bear and Those Darn Squirrels

Bonny Becker.  A Visitor for Bear.  Illustrated by Kady MacDonald Denton.  Candlewick, 2008.  56 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

Bear is so sure that he hates company that he spells it out on his door:  “NO visitors allowed.”  When mouse shows up for a spot of tea, Bear gives him the boot and continues preparing breakfast for one.  But mouse keeps showing up in impossible places, like the cupboards and the refrigerator, much to Bear’s distress. Even after boarding up the windows, stopping the chimney, and plugging the bathtub, the mouse finds his way back, causing Bear to weep dramatically and yell, “I am undone!”  They have their tea, and Bear finds that he rather enjoys the company.  I mean, what’s the point of knowing how to do a headstand if you haven’t have any friends to see it?

Adam Rubin.  Those Darn Squirrels!  Illustrated by Daniel Salmieri.  Clarion, 2008.  32 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

Beak-nosed Old Man Fookwire loves watching and painting birds, and misses them terribly during the winter.  He decides to invest in some bird feeders to convince them to stay, but those darn squirrels keep stealing all the seeds!  The old man battles the squirrels with clever traps, but it’s all for nothing when the birds decide to take off anyway.  The squirrels can’t stand the sight of him crying into his cottage cheese, and cheer him up with gifts and clever costumes.

Again, we were split for favorites with these two.  Geraldine said she likes A Visitor for Bear better, especially when they become friends.  Rhys likes Those Darn Squirrels! because they throw a party in Old Man Fookwire’s house at the end, and his “Those darn squirrels!” refrain is delivered with a smile.  I’m going to side with Rhys on this one.  They’re both good books, but Those Darn Squirrels! is packed with quirky humor that I find appealing.

More Ladybug Award reading:
Graves girls read! No. 13.1 – Bedtime at the Swamp and Little Blue Truck