Barbara Kerley.  The Extraordinary Mark Twain (According to Susy).  Illustrated by Edwin Fotheringham.  Scholastic, 2010.  48 pages.  Age 4 to 8.

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.

Youme.  Sélavi, That Is Life:  A Haitian Story of Hope.  Cinco Puntos Press, 2004.  40 pages.  Age 4 to 9.

“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.

About a month ago, in my Hats for Haiti? post, I mentioned a Reading Rockets article about using picture books to understand what happened “over there.”  These are the three nonfiction titles we chose from the list.

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.

[ If you’re not into first ladies, you can skip to the roundup. ]

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.

Snow, where are you?  You seem to be traveling a long way from home this year, en masse.  Are you not getting enough affection from northern New England?  Have you decided to try your luck elsewhere?

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.

The extent of my knowledge about most holidays is limited (to say the least), and I expect that holidays will be integral to teaching the girls comparative religion, so I was excited when the library got the Cultural Holidays series published by Magic Wagon/ABDO in.  The simple text is perfect for preschool and up, and the colorful, uncluttered illustrations support the text without distracting from it.

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.

When Geraldine was about to start first grade, I developed a sudden concern (among many other concerns that amounted to nothing) that the student body might recite the Pledge of Allegiance in her school/classroom.  I have nothing against the pledge per se, but I do take issue with indoctrinating young children into blind patriotism using complex language.  And with six year olds, the majority of whom probably don’t even know the meaning of the words “pledge” or “allegiance”—let alone the rest of it—what other goal can there be?

If I were a Bad Parent with an agenda, I might ask my daughter to refrain from reciting it, at least until she was old enough to make an informed choice about it.  However, in recalling a few memories of being on the child’s end of parenting, the would-be Good Parent in me realized that it is much more productive to try to explain the Pledge, bringing the potential for informed choice to her.

I was quite pleased to find that my library owns multiple copies of I Pledge Allegiance, which is annotated by Bill Martin, Jr. and Michael Sampson, and illustrated by Chris Raschka.  It breaks the Pledge down into no more than four words per page, briefly defining each word or phrase, then explaining the meaning of each within context.  Readers need a preexisting familiarity with the Pledge, or at least need to hear it from top to bottom beforehand, to get much out of the book.  The narrative is abrupt and discontinuous, as you would expect from an abstract study of another text.

The book is fair and apolitical.  This is almost a surprise if you read the authors convictions inside the jacket flap.  Martin says the Pledge is “the most beautiful chain of language” that he’s ever encountered, and Sampson says reciting the pledge gives him goose bumps.  Uh huh…  But then there’s Raschka, who is not only among my favorite illustrators, but completely made my day when I read his blurb:

“My parents have always respectfully refused to recite the Pledge of Allegiance—for religious reasons and reasons of personal experience.  That’s why I was drawn to this project.  In America, we each have the freedom to choose, including the freedom to choose whether or not to say the Pledge.”

This says nothing at all about his personal opinion of the Pledge, which is wise and commendable, but it goes a long way to validate people like me, who would respectfully (I think) refrain from reciting it.  ^[1]

Turns out they don’t recite the Pledge at Geraldine’s school, but they do sing a “patriotic song” in the morning.  I haven’t asked about the nature of the song yet.  Before I do, I want to flesh out a personal opinion about which is the lesser of evils:  a complexly-worded statement that invites indoctrination without understanding, or a simply-worded song which may effectively sway young minds.  If nothing else, it warrants a parent-child discussion.

the book:
Bill Martin, Jr. and Michael Sampson.  I Pledge Allegiance.  Illustrated by Chris Raschka.  Candlewick, 2002.  40 pages.  Age 6 to 9.

Nonfiction Monday is at Lori Calabrese Writes! today.

^[1]  If you’re really curious (and, please, duck out now if you’re liable to be offended) here are the reasons why I wouldn’t say the pledge:

• I get that it’s symbolic, but it invites you to worship an inanimate object.
• Out of respect for diversity of beliefs, I don’t think God has a place there.
• I don’t especially think that the U.S. is superior to other countries, and could just as easily slip off to Sweden (or elsewhere).
• I take promises extremely seriously, and as a result I tend to avoid making them.
• I don’t stand behind everything this country has done/is doing.

If you want to know why I, as an adult, don’t stand for/sing the National Anthem, or “America the Beautiful,” or “God Bless America” (that’s a song, right?) at sporting events and other it’s the same set of reasons.  Just add or subtract the “inanimate object” and “God” and “promise” parts as lyrics dictate.  The other two stand, regardless.

I invite you to offer your own opinions/counterpoints.  It can’t possibly get more heated than the time my parents and I debated the “under God” part.

Blah blah blah, climate change.  I hear you.  I don’t know anything about climate change.  I’ve never even seen that drowning polar bear movie.  I’ve always assumed that climate change is a real problem, and that it’s a bad thing, and that we should do something to save the planet, damnit…but beyond that I’ve never really looked into it.  Where’s the evidence, what does it mean, and where do we go from here?

I found a book that discusses each of those questions:  How We Know What We Know about Our Changing Climate.  What’s great about it is, it doesn’t just explain what global warming is and why it’s happening.  The bulk of the text is about different scientific studies that provide evidence that these climate changes are, in fact, occuring.  Each two-page spread is about a different study—finding evidence in blooming flowers; tracking changes in where certain species are living; finding information in tree rings; and the melting of icecaps and glaciers.  Those are just a few examples.  Some readers will find these scientific discoveries a bit mundane, but just as many (and hopefully more) will find them fascinating.

This book isn’t just about climate change.  It’s about using scientific evidence to form theories.  It’s about not just accepting what we’re told about drowning polar bears, but questioning those assumptions, and finding answers to the questions raised.  It’s all about critical thinking, the foundation of all intelligent discourse.  Go science!

The book is both empowering and optimistic.  It talks about how to conduct similar research, and about what can actually be done to improve the situation.  There is an ample resources section at the end of the book, plus there’s also a supplemental teacher resource guide.

So, there you have my contribution to Blog Action Day 2009.  It’s not just about taking action—it’s about understanding the cause and knowing why (or why not) it’s worth supporting.

the book:
Lynne Cherry and Gary Braasch.  How We Know What We Know about Our Changing Climate: Scientists and Kids Explore Global Warming.  Dawn Publications, 2008.  Age 8 to 14.

Molly Bang and Penny Chisholm.  Living Sunlight: How Plants Bring the Earth to Life.  Illustrated by Molly Bang.  Blue Sky Press, 2009.  Age 4 to 8.

Living Sunlight is a study of the interconnectivity of life on Earth, cleverly disguised as an engaging picture book.  The book is narrated by the sun, who has a friendly, authoritative voice:  “All living things—including YOU—pulse with my light and keep it circling around the Earth.”

The sun explains photosynthesis in a way that is comprehensible to young children, using a combination of of scientific information and sound effects.  (“KAZAP!” is the sound a plant makes when it breaks down water, in case you were wondering.)

The sunlight is drawn in dots in the illustrations, and those dots are in or around every animal and plant in the pictures.  How do we get the light inside of us?  By eating the plants, of course!  (That’s as far as the book gets into the food chain, which is an acceptable simplification for the target audience.)

This is a book kids will enjoy, whether they are capable of absorbing the information within, or just in it for the radiant illustrations.

Nonfiction Monday is at Moms Inspire Learning today.

Apologies in advance:  I had to use the 1994 version of the book for this review.  Guess what’s next on my collection development list?

Robie H. Harris.  It’s Perfectly Normal: Changing Bodies, Growing Up, Sex, and Sexual Health.  Illustrated by Michael Emberley.  Candlewick, 1994.  96 pages.  Age 10 to 14.

When I was growing up, my sex-ed guide was the Life Cycle Library.  It was published in the seventies, and I was born in 1981, so the information was dated, to say the least.  I not only had to infer the meanings of words like “necking” and “petting,” but had to try to sort out the book’s mixed messages, as well.  The example that springs to mind is, homosexuality was described as generally okay (how progressive of them) but bisexuality was described as extremely deviant and a sign of serious mental illness.  Yeah…  Needless to say, I could have used some better literature.

It’s Perfectly Normal might have been such a book.  Almost.  I was 13 by the time it was published, and I’m sure I would have found the illustrations, particularly cartoon bird and bee narrators, a little childish at that point.  But even just the overall message, beginning with the title and repeated throughout—“It’s perfectly normal!”—is reassuring and nonthreatening to the target audience.  Not so much to the grownups, if its frequent challenges are any indication.

It’s Perfectly Normal has been challenged for many reasons, including homosexuality, nudity, sex education, religious viewpoint, abortion, and being unsuited to age group.  I can’t comment on the last one, as its validity would vary according to circumstances, but the others I can’t quite grasp.

Yes – the book talks about abortion.  It presents the various reasons people decide to have abortions, and it discusses Roe v. Wade and various state laws.  Does it validate the reasons?  No.  Does it offer opinions on the laws discussed?  No.  Does it suggest that abortion rocks?  Hardly.  If the book is guilty of anything, it’s not villainizing people who have made that choice; but it also doesn’t villainize those who oppose abortion, so fair is fair.

Yes – the book contains nudity.  Gratuitous cartoon nudity.  There are only two or three spreads in the book that don’t have naked people on them.  I happen to hate nudity (deep-seated personal issues—don’t ask), and while I’m not quite sure why everyone had to be naked all of the time, it’s in context.  The book is about the human body and reproduction.  What do you expect?

Yes – there is some sex-ed content.  Like, 100%.  Apparently there’s a secret some folks don’t want kids to know.  Lean in close, and I’ll tell you:

The penis goes in the vagina.

That’s it.  No details on the logistics or mechanics of it.  There is information on contraception and STDs, of course.  I can’t even pretend to understand the mentality that those are bad things to tell kids about.

If I were to be sympathetic with one of the challenge causes, it would be the homosexuality issue, and only because of this passage:

“Some people disapprove of gay men and lesbian women.  Some even hate homosexuals only because they are homosexuals.  People may feel this way toward homosexuals because they think homosexuals are different from them or that gay relationships are wrong.  Usually these people know little or nothing about homosexuals, and their views are often based on fears or misinformation, not on facts.  People are often afraid of things they know little or nothing about.”

I happen to agree with this passage wholeheartedly, but the language is a little condescending.  Why not just call homophobic people uneducated, or stupid?  No wonder this population gets defensive when they read books like this.

On the other hand, how else are you going to say it?

Nonfiction Monday is at Wendie’s Wanderings today.