books together

We've been enjoying the latest in the series of "I Spy" art books by Lucy Mickelthwait, I Spy Colors in Art (Greenwillow, 2007).  The concept is simple and elegant:  pair an "I Spy" statement ("I spy with my little eye an orange orange") with a painting (John Frederick Peto, The Poor Man's Store) on the facing page.  You can extend it all sorts of ways, too:  after she finds what I'm spying, Milly asks me to look for something else in each painting; or we'll make up a story about what might happen next.  All the while, the kids (Leo likes to play, too) are familiarizing themselves with fine art and figuring out how to join the conversation about it.

Milly had a lot to say on Saturday at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.  We were just trying to escape from the heat at the Arts on Foot festival, but her interest in looking at and talking about particular paintings reminded me that we haven't visited the National Gallery with her, either.  At least not since she could talk.  We're already planning to visit later this month.

Of course, a visit to the art museum should always end at the museum gift shop, where you can purchase for small change a postcard of the painting (or whatever) you liked best.  I have a small collection of museum postcards that tends toward paintings of mothers and daughters; women reading, writing, or doing needlework; 15th c. portraits and Dutch interiors.  As Milly starts her own collection of art cards, I'm considering mounting them in a series of simple staple-bound books so we can play "I spy" with paintings that mean something special to her.

[I spy the Nonfiction Monday roundup at Picture Book of the Day!]

Today is Wilma Rudolph's birthday; she was born on June 23, 1940 near Clarksville, Tennesee, the twentieth of twenty-two children (I love this detail).  Wilma was the first American woman to win three gold medals in an Olympic Games (Rome, 1960); she defeated polio and prejudice to get there.  We re-read Wilma Unlimited: How Wilma Rudolph Became the World's Fastest Woman by Kathleen Krull; illustrated by David Diaz (Harcourt, 1996) today in her honor; she became one of Leo's heroes (and mine, too) when we first read this book before the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens.  It's an amazing story; well worth reading before this summer's Olympic Games in Beijing, too.

[See more Nonfiction Monday posts at Picture Book of the Day.]

These are the opening lines of The Secret World of Hildegard, a picture book biography of Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179) written by Jonah Winter and illustrated by Jeannette Winter (Arthur A. Levine Books, 2007):

Hundreds and hundreds of years ago in a time known as the Middle Ages, men ruled over the earth.  And these men were very gray.  And the buildings they built were very gray.  And all the towns were very gray.  And all the gray towns were run by mayors who were men.  Girls were not allowed to go to school, and most girls could not read.  They were taught to serve and obey all the boys around them.  They were taught to keep quiet and to be very gray.

Is this an accurate description of the Middle Ages?  Is it how most people imagine them (not my former students, I hope)?  Or does it function as a dramatic device, as the Horn Book's review (available here) suggests; one that allows the Winters to "set the scene perfectly: out of the dark, gray world of the Middle Ages shines the radiant light of visionary Hildegard."  Is it acceptable (if also, I would argue, overly generalizing and negative in the extreme) for a nonfiction picture book?

I'm a medievalist. I would have loved this small square volume (I, or rather my kids, are probably its intended audience):  Jonah Winter's writing is simple and elegant; Jeannette Winter's illuminations, done in acrylic and pen on watercolor paper, manage to be both medieval and modern (and gorgeous).  There is a good author's note expanding on Hildegard's fame as a scientist and composer as well as a mystic visionary; and a bibliography.  If I could only get past the first page.

When Leo was little he was obsessed with eggs.  We still read a lot of egg books.  Lately we've been enjoying this one, Guess What Is Growing Inside This Egg by Mia Posada (Millbrook, 2007).  It's an especially good choice for reading aloud to kids of different ages (like mine, who are 7 and 3).  Milly still likes to guess what's in each egg, on the basis of a close-up like the one on the front cover and a little riddle like this one (from the back cover):

Under this feathered belly, it's cozy and warm.
The egg is safe from the icy Antarctic storm.

"It's a penguin!" she tells me excitedly, every single time.  When we turn the page, Leo can hear or practice reading aloud a short paragraph about penguins (or alligators, ducklings, sea turtles, spiders, or octopuses) while Milly patiently (or not) looks at a longer shot, taken in watercolor collage, of the newly-hatched penguin chick (alligator, duckling, etc.) in its natural environment.  Posada's other books are about dandelions, ladybugs, and robins--she knows what we like!

[Nonfiction Monday Round-up at Anastasia Suen's blog Picture Book of the Day.  Thanks, Anastasia!]

I just ordered A New Beginning: Celebrating the Spring Equinox by Wendy Pfeffer; illustrated by Linda Bleck (Dutton, 2008).  I couldn't resist, not with the gorgeous early spring weather we're having today.  Milly even saw a robin!  I like Pfeffer's other books about the seasons, We Gather Together: Celebrating the Harvest Season (also illustrated by Bleck; it's in our fall book basket) and The Shortest Day: Celebrating the Winter Solstice (illustrated by Jesse Reisch; I posted about it here).  A New Beginning offers the same combination of scientific information about spring (when the days get longer, the growing season begins, and animals have their babies); and historical or cultural background about springtime celebrations around the world (including the Chinese New Year, Passover, and Easter).  Activities, crafts, and recipes at the back of the book.  I hope we have time to try some of these before spring arrives!

Sometimes a Gail Gibbons book is exactly what you (and your preschool-aged child) want:  colorful, concise, and informative.  This one is about The Vegetables We Eat (Holiday House, 2007).  It might be more accurate to say that it's about some vegetables we eat and some I wish the kids would eat more of, but in any case, it's just the thing to read alongside the big stack of seed catalogs that have been coming in the mail since December 24 (our favorite is Seeds of Change; the 2008 catalog focuses on urban gardening).  Now we know that there are eight different kinds of vegetables, grouped according to the part of the vegetable that is eaten (leaf, bulb, flower bud, root, tuber, stem, fruit, and seed).  Which ones do we eat?  Which ones will we grow?  Gibbons also covers how vegetables are grown (on small and "great big" vegetable farms, as well as in your own garden), where they are sold (at farmers' markets and grocery stores), and how they're eaten.  Watercolor and ink illustrations are bright and cheeful; I love the vegetables that spell out "Vegetables" on the cover.

[I can't resist suggesting that you pair The Vegetables We Eat with Caldecott Honor book Tops and Bottoms by Janet Stevens (Harcourt, 1995).  My kids just discovered this book (our library bought a new copy, I assume because the old one was worn out from being read so much).  It's a trickster tale with roots in slave stories of the American South:  clever Hare agrees to split successive harvests with lazy Bear, tops and bottoms.  Which crops does Hare grow for their bottoms?  Which ones does he grow for their tops?]

What is it about the story of Pompeii that is so compelling?  I think it's not so much the volcanic eruption--although that's certainly compelling--as the record of everyday life in a Roman town that Vesuvius inadvertently created almost 2000 years ago.  Pompeii Lost and Found by Mary Pope Osborne, with frescoes by Bonnie Christensen (Knopf, 2006), is primarily about the record, and is the perfect introduction to the story of Pompeii for young readers.

About the illustrations in Pompeii Lost and Found:  According to the flap copy, Christensen "brings to works of nonfiction a style of art that is especially suited to the period in which each book is set."  For this book, she painted actual frescoes inspired in color and style by ones found in Pompeii (a note in the back of the book describes the technique).  One of the first spreads features small frescoes of six objects found in the ruins and asks readers to guess how they were used (answers in the back; my kids really liked this).  Many of the later spreads include a smaller fresco of a found object that relates to the larger fresco of a scene from everyday life:  a scene in the bustling outdoor marketplace (forum) is accompanied by scales and gold coins; one of a dinner party is accompanied by a loaf of bread and a glass pitcher.  I like the way this design encourages kids to imagine being archaeologists and reminds them throughout of the archeological evidence that allows us to imagine life in Pompeii, 79 AD.

Today is the first Nonfiction Monday for children's book bloggers.  Thanks to Anastasia Suen for designating a day to post about nonfiction, which I love and which doesn't get as much attention as it might.  I also like having some sort of structure to my posting (see Poetry Friday, which I missed last week).  And we read a lot of nonfiction at our house.  Right now, it's mostly about Ancient Rome.  Maybe I should just make this Ancient Roman Week at bookstogether!

I knew right away that my first Nonfiction Monday post would be about this book:  Ox, House, Stick:  The History of Our Alphabet by Don Robb; illustrated by Anne Smith (Charlesbridge, 2007).  [Jules at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast had the same idea; see her review here.]  After all, our alphabet is Roman.

Ox, House, Stick was a Cybils nominee in the middle grade nonfiction category, and I would have been delighted if it had won (unfortunately, it's not a finalist).  The book, like the alphabet it describes, is a marvel of clarity, both visual--the illustrator, Anne Smith, is also a graphic artist--and informative.

It begins with a few pages about how people communicate; how written language developed from pictures and symbols to letters; and how those letters--our alphabet--spread "around the Mediterranean and through the centuries."  The rest of the book traces the origins of each letter or group of letters, interspersed with brief discussions of things like pronunciation, writing practices, and the invention of print.

All things that interest me, of course, but Leo was fascinated, too, as soon as he saw the ox head in the A (turn it upside down).  Thank you, Ancient Romans.

[And thanks again, Anastasia!  See more Nonfiction Monday posts listed here.]