Rain by Virginia Parsons

           I bought this book at a giant used book warehouse called Wonder Book, in Frederick, MD, where I lived for four months in the winter and spring of 2007, which were by far the best four months of my entire life, so I wondered if the reason I love this book so much is because it is colored by my mood of that time. However several not-so-bad-either years later, I can say with a fair amount of certainty that I love this book for reasons that are pure and honest and, I believe, well and just deserved.

"Rain"was published in 1961, and is of course out of print now, though it pops up on ebay quite often.

I have tried to find out as much as I could about Virginia Parsons, the writer and illustrator of this book, but have not been too successful. It seems that she wrote and/or illustrated many wonderful children's books at a great time when picture books already acquired legitimacy and artistic recognition but had not yet become the unbearably pretentious examples of bad taste and lack of talent we overwhelmingly see today. I do have another book of hers in my possession right now having gotten it through interlibrary loan, and can reliably vouch that it has the same wonderful illustrations and a general happy and content feel as "Rain".  I would say that if you like what you read here, it is a good idea to look for her books at used book stores and yard sales.

The book "Rain" alternates between color and black and white illustrations. I think both of her signature styles - the cartoony color images and the graphic black and white line drawings are equally strong and appealing, and I love the fact that she tells one story using two different styles.

Both sets of pictures really remind me of the way I used to draw as a kid - or at least tried to. I think that her images are so appealing, friendly and accessible that a child who sees them will easily be able to copy her style and draw his or her own pictures with freedom and confidence.

At the same time, the black and white pictures in particular are fairly complex and exciting to look at even if you are a grown up who likes art.

                        

As with other books I admire, I love the fact that "Rain" does not offer any morals or lessons, but simply describes something that happens in our world, and informs the readers of things that happen, or could potentially happen when they do. While the loose, happy, innocent mood of the text - ducks are described in the book, policemen and mailmen who work even in the rain, gardens that grow better in the rain, and deserts, where it does not rain, and so on - is definitely a reflection of the times when the book was written, I feel like it possesses something extremely valuable that is totally missing from children's books today. I think that something is the freedom to be unconcerned whether the book "lives up" to some arbitrary standard. This allows for the text to be assertive and yet absurd, and the pictures to be lovely and expressive in exactly the way children love them to be.

Finally, (I saved one of the best things for last), I have to say that this book has the best endpapers I have ever seen. Coming from a person who rather obsessively investigates endpapers of used children's books in particular, I think that just looking at the inside cover of "Rain" makes the world a better place. I love the fact that it has nothing to do with contents of the book, I love the fact that it has fabulous colorful diamonds, I love all the people, objects and animals that are preciously contained within each one. I think that when children look at images such as this one, they have a slightly better chance of growing up into adults who still remember what it was like to be a kid. And that, I believe, is one of the most important things in the world.

Elmer by David McKee

Those of you who know me well might be surprised by the fact that I've written about four books and not one of them has yet been about an elephant. If you have been hoping for an elephant book, today is your lucky day!

Elmer is different from the other elephants because unlike them, who are "elephant color" he is a multi-colored patchwork elephant. Elmer's personality matches that of his skin, he always plays great practical jokes, goofs off, and makes all the other elephants laugh. Even though the other elephants love Elmer, he feels awkward about his appearance, and runs away to find an elephant-colored berry bush plant that he uses to make himself elephant color and comes back to the elephant herd only to discover that his colorful personality can not be disguised no matter what happens on the outside, and all the elephants rejoice together.

I think that "Elmer" is truly a wonderful book. As passionately as I hate books that specifically deal with the moral of "it's OK to be different", I find that nothing at all annoys me about the way that this idea is treated in "Elmer". The book exists to tell a wonderful story, not to push a moral, and I think that makes all the difference. Additionally, if one does want to use a book to talk about the fact that "it is ok to be different" (whatever that means anyway), there are multiple ways to use the book to broach the subject in a way that allows all the involved parties to walk away and continue thinking about things, not memorize a bunch of meaningless platitudes and call it a day.

In addition to the good stories one finds in all the Elmer books, they are absolutely visually awesome.
Colorful patchwork does very beautiful and powerful things to my soul, and, when combined with an elephant of all things, it is absolutely perfect. In addition to the patchwork, the rest of the jungle where the elephants and their other animal friends live is wonderfully drawn as well, the vegetation is very Henri Rousseau with a magical twist.

While I have not read all of the Elmer books (there are probably about twenty by now, and more are still being written) I have liked all the ones I read. I also, (and this comes as a shock even to myself) really love all of the Elmer toys that have appeared out there in the last ten years, and there is quite a variety. I like them not just because of the book, but because most of the Elmer paraphernalia is actually tasteful, well made, and fun to see and play with. As a matter of fact a friend gave Miriam a stuffed Rose the Elephant toy a few days ago, and we've both been playing with her since. 

Have I ever mentioned that wheeled elephants is my greatest weakness?


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If you read the whole post and looked at the pictures, then I only have one more thing to add. There is no proof of this, and it is nothing more than a visceral association, but I feel that there is something in Elmer of the Little Elephant's Child - the one who was full of 'satiable curiosity, the one who asked too many questions, the one who went down to the very edge of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River all set about with fever trees and found out all about what the crocodile has for dinner.

You know the one, of course.
And I think that Elmer is his great-great-great-great-great grandson.

The Tree House by Marije Tolman and Ronald Tolman

         


It seems rather counterproductive to use words to talk about a story that has itself transcended the need for words, but I will do my best.

Illustrated by a  father/ daughter artist team (and do follow the links, if you will) this book won the  Ragazzi prize for fiction at the most famous and important Bologna Children's Book Fair.  The book is published in the very way that books should be published - it is the right size, shape, color, thickness, weight, and, especially smell (I also judge books by opening them right in the middle and sticking my nose into the crease at the back. Good art books in particular stand out on the olfactory scale).

The main characters in the book are two bears (one Polar, one Brown) who arrive at a tree house via a whale and boat, respectively, and engage in a wide range of activities in the time that follows that include quiet reading,  hosting large parties for flamingoes and a rhino, among other creatures who arrive via land, water and air, laying on the roof contemplating, and watching the moon.

The first thing I love about this book, is that the treehouse in question, a cozy and safe structure that nevertheless lends itself to serious adventure is, I am pretty sure, an etching. This means that the treehouse is the same exact image on each page, printed on different papers and in different colors. Which is very cool.

The second thing I love about this book are all the amazing creatures that come and go. They are drawn with TRUE LOVE of the most special variety, the same love that the Moomins, and the Wild Things, and the Little Prince are drawn with. This makes me wonder if only the creator of a character can breathe this kind of TRUE LOVE into the image of their literary offspring, and I have serious suspicion that mostly yes with notable exceptions such as Pooh and Alice.  The two bears and the other characters in the Tree House are just truly lovable without being "cute" in that horrifying way in which so many "cute" characters in children's books are.

The third thing I love about this book is the respect that is extended to the reader's attention and intelligence. There are elements throughout the book that are clever and complex and address a huge number ideas and themes, some very personal and some very global. There is one picture towards the end of the story which shows an elaborate pulley system installed in the tree house on which a kerosine lamps hangs just as the sky turns pink at sunset and all the guests are leaving the tree house. The bears sip tea and relax as the day comes to an end. This particular picture is the most dear to my heart because  my favorite feeling in the world is when all the guests leave after a fantastic party, and I can quietly sit sipping tea with one other person, processing all the joy from the intense and wonderful interaction with people I love. I am also a fan of hanging things from the ceiling, to me, that somehow makes a home. Combining so many elements of what (to me, at least) makes our world a truly miraculous place, the book just invades all the most vulnerable places of my soul making me feel joy and sadness and hope and warmth and much more all at the same time.


The last thing I wanted to mention is the book's treatment of solitude. The character of the treehouse does not seem any lonelier when it stands alone than when it is inhabited by hundreds of flamingos or just the two bears. The bears seem equally happy being by themselves or with all the guests. There is a general o'kayness with things - there is no conflict, no moral, no resolution, no life's lesson, no betrayal, no forgiveness - there is just life. And the life that is described in the book is isolated and far away, but never lonely, even given the vast areas of gorgeously treated "empty" space found on many pages. The world is a good, safe, beautiful place in this book, and that feeling stays with the reader long after the book is closed.

Socrates and the Three Little Pigs by Mitsumasa Anno and Tuyosi Mori

I checked this book out so many times from the library at the school where I worked once that the librarian just gave it to me. It was quite a generous gift (though I did donate a bunch of books in exchange) because this book is out of print and while you can still get a used copy it is quite expensive.

Where do I start as to the reasons why I think this book is a gift to humanity (or at least to the likes of me)?

First of all it is based on the Three Little Pigs.
Second of all, unlike any other contemporary treatment of a classic fairy tale in which all the characters are neutered, de-clawed, politically corrected and taught to live in peace and harmony with all in a gender neutral and pseudo-socialist society through a great moral taught to all innocent bystanders with the elegance and the lightness of a wrecking ball, this fairy tale is used in a lovely way, as a recognizable structure on which the story hangs.
Of course there is not that much of a story, because the book is really about math.
It is also about a not so big (rather skinny, actually, because he uses up most of his energy on thinking) and not so bad wolf named Socrates, who would be happy just thinking all day, except that his rather spoiled and plump wolf-wife Xanthippe wants him to go out and catch one of the adorable three little pigs sitting in their little houses. Lucky for the pigs, Socrates spends the entire book chatting with his mathematician friend Pythagoras the frog about the probabilities of the pigs being located in one of the five houses in the meadow where they all live. There are elaborate charts and graphs that visually explain the concepts described by Socrates and Pythagoras and serene domestic scenes, that mostly feature the voluptuous Xanthippe being sensually impatient with the pig-acquiring process.

Here are some photos I took of the pages, in case nothing above makes sense:

 

A third reason, and this is probably a bit personal but I'll share it anyway, I love this book because there were many times in my life when I would ask someone very smart and very clever a simple question or make a simple request only to be faced with an albeit fascinating and enlightening, but entirely useless discourse on a loosely related topic. Given the fact that this book is written by two people closely connected to all things mathy, I suspect that the pain of Xanthippe's plight was not lost to them. While to the uninitiated she might come off as being needy, demanding and spoiled (like at the beginning when she tells Socrates to go find food while pulling on a rope she has tied to his tail), those of us who have been left hungry in the face of the pursuit for knowledge and ideas will absolutely recognize her as the victim and the unsung hero of the tale.

I thoroughly recommend this book to all those who appreciate a bit of hard core geekery in a loosely romantic picture book context.  Anno's other intricately and cleverly illustrated books are really famous as well - both in the intellectual and in the visual context, but I am a bigger fan of this one by far. Look for it in your local library and maybe ask if you can have it if you like it and your librarian likes you.

Learning to Fly by Sebastian Meschenmoser

Experiencing Sebastian Meschenmoser's picture books is something similar to listening to Glenn Gould play Bach. There is a beginning and an end, a plot and an idea, but all the spaces in between are filled with a profound, powerful magic that is both familiar and absolutely enlightening.

I haven't been able to learn too much about Meschenmoser except that in addition to writing and illustrating children's books he is a professional painter and lives in Germany. I also learned that there are a bunch of books he wrote in addition to the ones I managed to get my hands on that are only available in Europe, so if you are there, feel free to buy them and send them to me.


Learning to Fly is the the first book of his I discovered. The story is about a penguin who once knew how to fly but then stopped being able to because he was told that penguins don't fly. The said penguin meets up with the narrator of the story, and the two spend most of the book figuring out how to help the penguin fly again.

As it is said in the book there are some good ideas and some bad ones, and while I can not tell you what happens in the end, I can say that you won't be disappointed even if you only read one page and take a look at the pictures.

Meschenmoser does his illustrations in graphite pencil with a bit of color here and there. What I find totally amazing is how much meaning, love, and information is conveyed through the pictures with scratchy lines and squiggles that run across the pages like a master jazz improvisation that continues to sound in the mind well after the book is closed and put away. This artist has a line quality to be noted quite seriously. I think that the fact that he makes such very serious art for children is a sign of deep respect for his audience and a belief that children can more than handle something other than total dumbed down stupidity of most children's books published in the States.

Along with the serious art, there is a serious plot line. I am a big fan of interaction that occurs when absolute absurdity happens with a straight face, and a lingering moment of confusion in which things absurd make total sense. The whole absurd story of Leaning to Fly is delivered with a totally straight face and leaves the reader to smile quietly to himself as he gets to the end.