Woolen Socks and a Stout Heart

Lumber Jills: The Unsung Heroines of World War II – written by Alexandra Davis, illustrated by Katie Hickey
Albert Whitman & Company, 2019

Today I’m writing about the relatively unsung contribution of many brave women during World War II.  They were 8,500 female “lumberjacks,” who joined Britain’s Timber Corps, cutting trees, driving trucks, and operating sawmills. With so many men serving in the military, the contribution of the Lumber Jills was absolutely essential.  (According to the author’s detailed afterword, women in Canada and the United States had also long worked in the timber industry.) Alexandra Davis and Katie Hickey’s picture book is a thrilling ode to women’s strength. (I reviewed another Katie Hickey book about a woman pioneer here.)

An inventive use of repetition and counting characterizes the text, and allows it to bridge a broad span of ages.  The story begins with “one pair of woolen socks pulled up to the knee.”  Evading the male gaze, these young women do not dress in conformance with male beauty standards. They wear study, tough overalls, gum boots and, as stated, socks pulled up to the knee. That pair of socks reappears several times in the book, reiterating that the women’s role does not prioritize physical attractiveness.  The pleated skirt and short-sleeved sweater of their previous lives transforms into a new uniform. 

Companionship among women is also a key to their success. Smiling and forward-looking, this corps of workers learns new skills without becoming discouraged.  At times their facial expressions convey that the work is tough, but the mutual support they come to expect, combined with their implied patriotism, ensures success. Domestic life has not disappeared, but it is centered on their community rather than on individual homes: “Three girls burn the brush, as well as warm the tea.” 

Large numbers alternate with smaller ones, emphasizing the different scales involved in their goals.  “Five nights are spent indoors, writing letters home,” while “four hundred girls sing while they walk to camp.” Accomplishing their purpose, “ten million” trees are provided for the defense of the realm. Yes, there is also a dance with soldiers, where colorful dresses and the pleated skirts return, and the girls even wear “ten shades of lipstick.” (They must have access to quite a choice of make-up. All are shades of red.).

At the end of the book, and of either the war or of her term of service, we see one Lumber Jill who has returned home.  She sits on her bed, wearing pants and a bulky sweater, as she assembles an album. It includes pictures of trees, commemorating her unforgettable role. Even if you have shared other books about women’s strength with your children, this one is different and memorable in many ways, woolen socks included.

You’ve Got Coffee

Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice – Katie Cicatelli-Kuc
Scholastic Press, 2024

You probably already know that most pumpkin spice flavored coffees do not actually contain any pumpkin. The name of the autumnal coffee isn’t particularly dishonest, since “pumpkin spice” refers to a mix of flavorings typically used in pumpkin pie.  In Katie Cicatelli-Kuc’s wonderful new young adult/adult novel, the presumed rivalry between two bakeries develops along with an original recipe for the beverage, one which defies the ordinary, commercial one.  I’m using the word “presumed” because rivalry, with all the nastiness that implies, is a minimal part of this sweet, but not excessively so, story of romance between competitors.

Employees of two establishments producing or selling the same product fall in love.  There have been many examples, in books, theater, and film of this situation, from Jean Meltzer’s Kissing Kosher, to Alexis Castellanos’s Guava and Grudges, (more on that one soon), to the Hallmark holiday movie Hanukkah on Rye. Of course, the most iconic example is Nora Ephron’s You’ve Got Mail, in which the contested store sells children’s books, not pastries. Ephron’s film is based on The Shop Around the Corner, the 1940 classic film directed by Ernst Lubitsch, starring James Stewart and Margaret Sullavan.  (Shop is a reimagined version of the Hungarian play, Parfumerie, from 1937, subsequently adapted as the musical She Loves Me in 1963, and revived as recently as 2016. This is not an exhaustive list, just some of my favorites.).

In Pumpkin Spice, Lucy Kane works in her mother, Joanna’s ’s café, Cup o’ Jo, in a quiet New England town.  Then one day, a new business appears, a franchise in the corporate chain, Java Junction; the facile alliteration of their name contrasts with the Cup o’ Jo’s identification with an actual person.  There are contemporary touches in Pumpkin Spice. Lucy’s mother is single by choice, and one of her best friends has two moms.  Instagram influencers play a prominent role, and their silliness is gently exposed without exaggerated parody.  The underlying premise and tone of the novel is timeless.  Teenagers need to decide on their own paths in life.  Mother-daughter relationships can be both close, and affected by conflict.  Love confronts obstacles.

Cicatelli-Kuc respects her audience and avoids melodrama.  The obstacles confronting Lucy Kane, and Jack Harper, the son of Java Junction’s owners, are not of the Romeo and Juliet variety. The Harpers and nice people with no particular culinary background. They own a business, and they have moved with their son from place to place, whenever corporate headquarters demands a new location for their stores.  Java Junction is not Fox Books. Jack’s amiable personality has developed partly as a result of this peripatetic life.  Lucy’s background is remarkably stable by comparison, but she has always felt called upon to support her mother’s shop, solely dependent on one strong and talented owner. At least she has always thought that was her role in the future.

The novel’s pace is compelling, the characters believable, and the ending both satisfying and open-ended.  Young adults will relate to the story, but so will grownups.  Don’t forget that “when you read a book as a child it becomes part of your identity, in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.”

No Creator of Moomins is an Island

Tove and the Island with No Address – written and illustrated by Lauren Soloy
Tundra Books, 2024

First, if a devoted reader of Tove Jansson were to imagine the ideal author and illustrator of a book about Jansson’s childhood, Lauren Soloy would be a likely choice. (see my earlier reviews here and here and here). Tove and the Island with No Address is not a picture book biography. Rather, it is an evocative portrait of one aspect of Jansson’s life, her childhood summers in a small cottage on a remote island. Soloy does not draw explicit conclusions about creativity and nature, or even attempt to connect all the dots between a child’s imagination and the real world surrounding her.  Readers will infer those connections from the comforting text and distinctive illustrations, which could only be from the pen (and accomplished skill with Procreate software) of Lauren Soloy.

Tove loves the sea, and the assortment of objects washed ashore.  With a kind of Zen wisdom, she understands that “salvage is the fit the sea gives you and can be any number of wonderful things.” The domestic interiors are as much an ingredient in Tove’s vision as the outdoors. If salvage is somewhat unpredictable, her summer residence is a place of stability. Tove inspects her loft bed to ensure that “everything was just as she had left it.” Children instinctively know that change and continuity need to be in balance. Below her bed, Tove’s mother feeds her baby sibling. Maternal nourishment will demonstrate itself later in the book, as well.

Where are the Moomins? They have not been invented yet, but young Tove encounters a secret friend who live in a grotto.  This creature has five children, miniature in size but unruly in nature.  The larger creature cannot control them. Tove expands upon her older sister role, placing them in her coat pocket and taking them for a walk. A storm threatens, but the inventive little girls hide on a tree among the pinecones. Like most parents, Tove tries to influence them through both “coaxing” and “scolding,” but they only accept the compromise of a boat made from bark with teaspoon oars.  Tove is tolerant, and introspective. She admits to herself that the little girls’ rebelliousness actually inspires pride in her caregiver.

Soloy’s wild nature has the force of a painting by J.M.W. Turner.  Bodies and faces are bulky and squared, but with only a few strokes of color she turns limbs, eyes, and mouth into specific expressions of character. When Tove returns from her adventure, cold and wet, her mother embraces her, using her larger sweater to enclose her daughter’s small body.  Naturally, Tove observes that his enclosure is “better than any blanket.”  When the Moomins arrive, in Tove Jansson’s adulthood, parental protectiveness, and sometimes inadequacy, will make them more complex than the small inhabitants of the island. Nevertheless, those girls carried in Tove’s pocket will become part of the Moomintrolls’ world.  An afterword fills in more information about Jansson’s life and career.

Owl Writes by Candlelight

Cozy Winter Day – written and illustrated by Eliza Wheeler
Nancy Paulsen Books (Penguin Random House), 2024

Here is another one of my many posts about past, imaginary, or longed-for snow (for example here and here and here and here and here and here). It also falls into the category of personified animals performing sweet, graceful, and productive tasks (Miguel Tanco is another master of this art).  Beautifully realized scenes of domestic interiors, as well as the outdoors also characterize this lovely new picture book by Eliza Wheeler (I reviewed another of her books for Jewish Book Council). Not only does an owl compose the story of her village by candlelight, but a hedgehog weaves baskets and a rabbit, who uses a wheelchair, paints at an easel.

The endpapers and the introductory list of characters immediately made me ask, where are the toys? I don’t mean this with any disdain at all! The brightly colored and detailed figures are reminiscent of the kind of traditional, non-electric miniature animals you can still find as playthings.  The Hopps family have names out of a mid-century t.v. sitcom: Bud, Dot, Sis, and Herb.  However, Herb is the artist with a disability, setting this story in the fortunately more realistic and inclusive present.  The beaver family is of Celtic origin, judging by their name, McPaddy.  An interesting choice was to include both Ms. Polly, a porcupine, and Otto and Una Heddle, who seem to be hedgehogs. 

The book’s plot is not the main point. Rather, it is the warm and harmonious community of creatures enjoying the winter.  In the Hopps’ family kitchen, Pop is frying up something delicious on an antique wood stove while Dad enters with a bag of groceries. The baby, sitting in his highchair, seems impatient, but not enough to make the parents frantic.  Otto the hedgehog “gathers bundles of yarn,” although it’s not clear if he is going to knit or if he is helping Una, who is bringing snacks.  All the animal parents are clearly nurturing.

The featured adjective in the title is “cozy,” and miniature spaces represent the essence of this quality. There are two pages explaining the characteristics of a “nook.” These small areas can be dedicated to different purposes: reading, painting, eating breakfast, or hiding.  Sometimes they are shared, but often they are places where animals can be quietly alone. On the other hand, Acorn Village requires a lot of labor, if you can apply that term to making paper chains and building with blocks, as well as pulling children on sleds and preparing food.  Consuming food is also a big part of life here.

Everything in the book adds up to restful sleep. The bedtime scene is dark, with pastel-colored bedding and a blue and white starry night sky.  “Let’s have a Cozy Winter Day again tomorrow.” Capitalized letters make it clear that tomorrow will involve repetition of today. That reassuring quality is the point of living in Acorn Village.

Animals by the Numbers

Counting Winter – written by Nancy White Carlstrom, illustrated by Claudia McGehee
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2024

Nancy White has written more than sixty children’s books, including the Jesse Bear series about ordinary moments and their significance in the lives of young children.  In Counting Winter, she enumerates different animals who are native to the Alaskan environment where her children grew up.  Claudia McGehee’s scratchboard and watercolor pictures are both accurate and expressionistic, giving musk oxen, sled dogs, owls, and others a lifelike character. The book is a work of great beauty, both for children learning to count and for those way beyond that milestone.

The text has the illuminating power of Haiku, capturing snapshots of natural life. “Four red squirrels feast/ at their midden full of cones/hungrily/cracking winter.” The poetic resonance of the words makes this far more than an effective counting book. The use of “midden” defamiliarizes the scene a bit, inviting an explanation.  The squirrels are feasting, rather than just eating, and the metaphor of “cracking winter,” rather than nuts, elevates the tone without any pretension.

Personification of animals is appealing. McGehee’s applies this with subtlety. Her owl looks out at the reader intently, but definitely as the member of a different species. A sled dog races through the snow, his panting tongue and determined eyes could belong to a human runner. In the final two-page spreads, people enter the picture. They ride sleds and throw snowballs along with the wild creatures. One figure stretches her arms out to embrace the whole universe of winter.     Descriptions of the animals, as well as extended author’s and illustrator’s notes, shed light on the background and methods of the book’s creators.

They Came in Peace

We Are Definitely Human – written and illustrated by X. Fang
Tundra Books, 2024

The creatures who surprise the unflappable Mr. Li in X. Fang’s newest picture book are definitely human. Well, sort of. They may look oddly dressed and their skin is blue, but Mr. Li is kind. When they offer a barely plausible explanation of who they are, he invites them in.  If you have read X. Fang’s wonderful debut book, Dim Sum Palace, you won’t be surprised at her humor, or her characteristically rounded people and objects peopling the tale.  When extraterrestrials land on earth, they are greeted by friendly and helpful inhabitants of the planet, who dance, eat, and help them fix their spaceship.  In the tradition of Laurent de Brunhoff’s Babar Visits Another Planet, and the work of Jon Agee, children learn that hostility and suspicion are misplaced.  We all have a lot in common.

Mr. Li is not completely irrational. When the strangers, clad in bubbles that look like the leftovers from a 1970s designer, first request help with fixing their “car,” he points out that the stores are all closed. They look bereft, and Mr. Li empathizes with them. Soon they, along with Mrs. Li, are sharing a breakfast. For visitors supposedly from Europe, they are not adept at handling utensils. Even the Li’s dog looks faintly suspicious.  In Fang’s illustrations, shapes, composition, and blank space can suggest anything from frantic activity to calm acceptance of a weird situation.

After breakfast, and some attempts by the “Europeans” to assume the personas of businessmen, athletes, and people who wear hats, it’s time for a visit to the General Store. Where is this store? It could be in Brooklyn, Portland, or Middle America. A burly guy in plaid shirt and a baseball cap, women with striped shirts and crossbody bags, and friendly cashier, are all busy shopping for their DIY projects.  If they notice that one of the strangers has placed a toilet plunger over his face, they are too polite to mention it.

The repetition of the phrase, “we are definitely human,” will appeal to children; how could adults possibly believe something so obviously untrue. But by the time the visitors leave in their vehicle, which has been repaired through friendly cooperation, the insistent reply begins to make sense. On the ground, their new friends stand together and raise their hands in a warm farewell.  Even if the odd crew who came out of nowhere aren’t just like their hosts, they share enough qualities to understand one another.

Woman of Heart and Mind

Joni: The Lyrical Life of Joni Mitchell – and illustrated by Selina Alko
HarperCollins, 2020

When Roberta Joan Anderson, eventually known to the world as Joni Mitchell, was in school, she had an inspiring English teacher. Mr. Kratzman advised her to approach her writing as she did her visual artworks: “If you can paint with a brush, you can paint with words.”  Selina Alko’s picture book biography of Mitchell embodies that principle in both its text and pictures, which are inextricably linked in this voyage through the singer and composer’s life and work. The author/illustrator and her subject are perfectly matched, making her book accurate, illuminating, and a stunning work of art in itself, as are her earlier books.

Combining acrylic paint and collage, including found objects, Alko creates a complete vision of Joni’s (as she refers to the singer), early life and subsequent development as an artist.  The young Joni is identifiable as the mature woman, and the elements of both “heart and mind,” as one of her memorable lyrics, are intertwined.  First we see Joni as a young girl on the prairie of western Canada, dancing to the sound of birds. Her parents stand in the background, and a train, composed of geometric shapes, collage elements and stamps, passes by.  Every page frames Joni’s life in this inventive format, each object attracting the reader’s eye with a specific relevance to the narrative. A bird’s-eye view of Joni playing the piano shows both her hands and the top of her head, which is crowned with a helix of words, notes, and ink-like spots.

Joni recovers from the childhood scourge of polio. She listens to Pete Seeger and Elvis Presley, attends art school in Calgary, and performs in coffeehouses.  Alko does not omit her failed marriage to folk singer Chuck Taylor, but she chooses not to discuss the painful decision Joni made to give up her daughter for adoption. Nevertheless, this trauma obliquely appears in a picture of Joni writing the lyrics to “Little Green” in dark, bold pencil. Alko could not have referred to every formative experience in her subject’s life, yet she is committed to acknowledge as many of them as possible.

The two pages that chronicle the genesis of Chelsea Morning are another example of this fidelity. Everything is there: the butterscotch curtains, the traffic, the bowl of oranges. You can practically smell the incense.  When Joni performs in Greenwich Village, there are cameos of Leonard Cohen, Judy Collins, Bob Dylan, and other engrossed listeners. Here is your chance to explain to children who these great innovators are.  It will not be difficult to convince kids that listening to Joni “helped people feel understood,” or that, when her fans demanded her older style rather than experiments in jazz, “Joni didn’t care.” 

Alko includes a discography, bibliography, and a thoughtful author’s note explaining why she was drawn to write and illustrate Joni. The result is an explosion of color and poetry, along with a meticulous record of Joni Mitchell’s legacy. This book is for children, teens, and adults.

One Human and One Bear

Hiro: Winter and Marshmallows – written and illustrated by Marine Schneider, translated by Vineet Lal
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2024

Two creatures from two different species are initially afraid of one another, but later make friends. A book needs to be innovative to stand out in this category.  Marine Schneider (no relation), using carefully selected words beautifully translated by Vineet Lal, conveys the mutual hesitation of both boy and bear, neither one unwilling to break rules.  Her striking images, rendered in colored pencils, watercolors, acrylic paint, and markers, accompany the words, but also operate as silent scenes full of impact. The parallel emotions of Émile, the boy; and Hiro, the bear, are familiar to children and evocative to adults, as well.

The title page features a backpack sitting in the snow, hinting at the outdoors, the articles both characters carry, and the needs they have in common.  Hiro’s large family is full of enthusiastic hibernators, but she is dissatisfied at the idea of endless sleep. Her mother, as mothers will do, warns her of dangers, but Hiro decides to take her chances.  Although she “isn’t the kind to disobey,” even compliant children, and bears, find within themselves traits that they had not suspected. Soon Hiro is packing her backpack with honey, pencils, and a comb.

Hiro uses all her senses to observe the world around her. Tracks in the snow, noises, and the smell of wood and marshmallows, lead her to a clearing.  At this point in the story, three wordless two-page spreads show a changed world. With all the activity of a painting by Brueghel, the pictures pull readers into an immersive scene of play in the snow.  Young humans are toasting marshmallows and enjoying the icy cold, but then they flee, leaving a space littered with objects left behind. Fear has changed everything.

Émile stands behind a tree, a small boy in a black snowsuit with bright red mittens and boots. Although he has some trepidation, he is curious, and assures Hiro that he is “a marshmallow expert.” The two begin to converse about the most basic, and profound, idea: what is it like to be a bear, and also to be an Émile. Note that Hiro’s question is not generic. After all, Émile may be unique, or representative of all the other children who disappeared.

Schneider varies the scale of her images.  By the time they have become friends, Émile looks larger, and Hiro, enormous.  They are happier, having stepped outside their boundaries and connected. The blazing flames of their campfire rise high. Eventually, they return home, to the security of family and sleep.     

 

Lights in Autumn

Garland of Lights: A Diwali Story – written by Chitra Soundar, illustrated by Amberin Huq
Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2024

Garland of Lights using a counting book format to inform readers about the essentials of Diwali, the Hindu celebration, shared by some other Asian religions, that commemorates the end of the summer harvest and the transition to a new season.  The intergenerational emphasis, lush colors by Amberin Huq, and enthusiastic text by Chitra Soundar, will resonate with young readers, whether they are already familiar with the festival or come to the book with little knowledge of Hindu observance.

Each two-page spread begins with a numeral and a number of lamps associated with one aspect of Diwali.  Italicized text emphasis an important concept in terms accessible to children.  The first lamp represents the goddess of wealth, and her significance in offering blessings of wisdom and health. Three lamps signal a personal and communal obligation to heal conflicts. Seven lamps remind readers of hospitality, and eight lamps correspond to the festive fireworks display lighting up the night.  The book’s backmatter includes and essential explanation of the festival and a glossary; adults might choose to share this with children before beginning to read the book.

Light is the central concept of the book, and the illustrations reflect this in bright jewel tones. Different skin and hair colors of the holiday’s celebrants, as well as the broad span of ages, make an appealing package. The overall effect of turning the pages, reading the words, and enjoying the images, adds up to immersion in the festival’s multifaceted practices.

In the scene for six lamps, the rangoli, floor decoration, crosses the book’s gutter, and displays the lamps. Each lamp is separated from the others by enough space to emphasize its difference.  Babies, children, and young and old adults span the picture in a semi-circle; like the lamps, each person’s clothing is a different bright color. The grandmother’s deep red dress is surrounded by emerald-green, sky blue, and magenta outfits of her family members.

The holiday of Diwali encompasses a number of seasonal, religious, and historical events and beliefs.  A Garland of Lights strings together and illuminates several of them with graceful words and pictures.

Sisters vs. Goblins

Into the Goblin Market – written by Vikki VanSickle, illustrated by Jensine Eckwall
Tundra Books, 2024

Into the Goblin Market is not a young reader’s version of Christina Rosetti’s (1830-1894) provocative poem, but the picture book is an imaginative response to that work. Even if you knew nothing else about this fantastic, in both senses of the word, work, you would have to be impressed at the choice of this literary homage.  But Into the Goblin Market stands out all on its own.  Two sisters, Mina and Millie, use the strength of their unbreakable bond when Mina disappears, perhaps to be consumed by malign forces.  Millie, confronting the supernatural terrors of classic fairy tales with an undertone of Rosetti’s feminist poem, rescues her beloved sibling and they return home. The poetry is hypnotic, the pictures are stunning, and the sisters are undefeated through their love.

On the cover, (link to image) in Jensine Eckwall’s ink-drawn and digitally edited, illustration, Millie is seated in an alcove reading a book, while Millie looks down on the scene, as if thinking of ways to escape.  As Vikki VanSickle writes with concision and humor, “Millie’s manner was reserved/but Mina had a lot of nerve.” Those qualities set the scene for their adventure.  While her sister is sleeping, Mina leaves the safety of their farm, and stumbles on the land of the goblins, where she will disappear. Their tempting sales pitch works on a girl eager for change, but their high-stakes words contain an implicit warning: “Make a choice and make it quick!/Make it while the magic’s thick.”

Meanwhile, back in their home, Millie is awakened by a dream that communicates her sister’s flight.  With visions of goblins making her uneasy, she looks for Mina but does not find her.  The interior of their house, like every scene in the book, is rendered in black with deep red touches highlighting elements of importance.  Millie looks through a window from one bedroom to another, her face and upper body surrounded by a jagged red halo. Downstairs, a red cloak, alluding to familiar fairy tales, hangs on a hook. A bookish girl, she naturally turns to her books, searching through them for resources on how to rescue her sister.  Finally, it is time to take action and she assembles the tools for her journey: “She took some wool, a crust of bread/and donned her cloak of crimson red.” 

VanSickle employs the language of classic folklore without resorting to overt imitation. Her images, too, recall this literature, but take the form of eclectic blends.  A tall witch-like figure hands a bouquet of red poppies to Millie, wearing her red cloak.  Emerging from the figure’s home is the elongated face of a wolf.  Those poppies are as potent as a poison apple, and soon Millie’s “consciousness began to drift.” 

Finally, the sisters are reunited. They sit together in a bed of flowers, surrounded by the comforts of nature and the knowledge of Millie’s bravery has saved their lives and relegated goblins to the past. But without Mina’s urge to challenge boundaries, there would not have been a book.