a flash of color and light: a biography of dale chihuly

I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, with an art history major mom, and as a result I visited a lot of museums and learned about Northwest artists. Dale Chihuly was arguably our most famous local living artist, so I saw a LOT of his glass installations. I have to say that as a younger child they were a bit lost on me – you couldn’t touch or play with them, and they were often mounted far away, or behind plexiglass. As an adult, I’m very proud of Chihuly’s glass, and I recognize it immediately, anywhere I see it around the world – thanks mom! When I saw that there was a picture book biography about Chihuly out from a Seattle publisher, I knew I had to take a look. Author Sharon Mentyka and illustrator Shelley Couvillion's nonfiction picture book A Flash of Color and Light: A Biography of Dale Chihuly is one of the most visually vibrant and beautiful picture books of the year.

 

The first-ever picture book biography of world-renowned glassmaker Dale Chihuly—with stunning watercolor illustrations that reveal the history of the art—for aspiring artists ages 5-9.

Travel along with Dale Chihuly on his life’s journey full of curiosity, discovery, teamwork, and perseverance as he overcomes challenges to become a glass artist of international acclaim.

Dale Chihuly’s early life presented many challenges, such as tragic losses in his family at a young age and an accident that left him blind in one eye, yet his resilience, hard work, and optimism taught him life-long skills that became inseparable from his body of work—incomparable glass creations that provide rich material for the book’s gorgeous illustrations.

In this picture book biography, Mentyka covers the formation, education, and career of Chihuly throughout several decades, and showcases his artistic evolution. She makes a case for Chihuly’s greatness by discussing his artworks, the school he co-founded, and his worldwide fame. However, as you’d expect in a book for children, there is a substantial focus on Chihuly’s younger years, family life, and his first attempts at art. Mentyka’s biography highlights three elements: an ordinary life broken by tragedy, Dale’s fascination with water, and his dedication to glass. In the final pages, Chihuly’s types of glass artworks are identified, a more in-depth biography and family photo from Dale’s childhood and a glassmaking glossary are included, and finally, there’s a timeline of Chihuly’s life events from 1941-2012. The story itself is basic, but the back matter will give young readers a strong starting point to understand one of America’s most talented craftsmen/artists. 

As an adult reading a picture book, I was impressed most by those final pages (after the story concludes), which went into further detail about Chihuly’s life and contribution to art. These pages also prompted me to read more on Chihuly’s own website, and look up photos of his artworks for reference. For children, this book’s art alone will undoubtedly inspire their own curiosity and creativity, but delving into the back matter (perhaps with an adult guide) in depth will prompt questions about art-making and Chihuly – it is that intriguing!

And that art – it is especially stunning and attention-grabbing, almost neon in its vibrancy. It feels as though artist Couvillion (who I didn’t realize was someone I followed on Instagram??) understood the assignment deeply, and dove right into a psychedelic rainbow of color. Her medium of watercolors and pens (that’s a guess on the last one) perfectly washes the sky, sea, and land, along with details of architecture and indoor interiors – but the star of her art are the renditions of glass. It’s there in a true kaleidoscope of brights – all bleeding one into the other in layers just like Chihuly’s glass does. In contrast, Couvillion’s figures are flat and slightly boxy, with textures (Chihuly’s curly hair looks like so many waves, or perhaps pasta!), stylized features (look at the hands!), and skillfull shadow and light work. The art alone is worth pouring over again and again and again. Bravo!

 

Note: One page mentions that Dale lived in an Israeli kibbutz for a few months and that it was a formative experience in his young adulthood. The kibbutz movement was and is a Zionist project. Dale himself is not Jewish. Given the state of the world, this is an authorial choice that deserves more context and interrogation.

 

In all, A Flash of Color and Light is a celebration of color, light, glass, and Dale Chihuly’s enormous contribution to the field of glassmaking and art.

Recommended for: young ones ages 4+ and the adults who read to them, those interested in picture books about art and biographies of artists, and anyone who appreciates absolutely gorgeous illustrations.

 

A Flash of Color and Light: A Biography of Dale Chihuly will be released by Little Bigfoot (Sasquatch Books) on October 15, 2024.

Fine print: I read an advanced digital copy of the text on Edelweiss. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

numb to this: memoir of a mass shooting

There’s a lovely tradition in the high school I work at where teachers to post the title of the book they’re currently reading on their classroom door. I was puttering around last Friday, packing up before Winter Break, and I changed my sign over to show my latest read, Kindra Neely’s graphic novel Numb to This: Memoir of a Mass Shooting. A student who has struggled in my class asked me about it, and then wanted to see the book, and then asked when is it gonna be on the bookshelf? I was reading a library copy, but you can bet I placed an order for this one as soon as I had a spare moment. In my opinion, there’s nothing better than finding a book (the right one, the one they choose!) for that student who needs it. And on top of that, this book is a must-read – an important, shattering story from a gun violence survivor – a chance to listen to someone share what that aftermath looks and feels like. 

 

Kindra Neely never expected it to happen to her. No one does. Sure, she’d sometimes been close to gun violence, like when the house down the street from her childhood home in Texas was targeted in a drive-by shooting. But now she lived in Oregon, where she spent her time swimming in rivers with friends or attending classes at the bucolic Umpqua Community College.

And then, one day, it happened: a mass shooting shattered her college campus. Over the span of a few minutes, on October 1, 2015, eight students and a professor lost their lives. And suddenly, Kindra became a survivor. This empathetic and ultimately hopeful graphic memoir recounts Kindra’s journey forward from those few minutes that changed everything.

It wasn’t easy. Every time Kindra took a step toward peace and wholeness, a new mass shooting devastated her again. Las Vegas. Parkland. She was hopeless at times, feeling as if no one was listening. Not even at the worldwide demonstration March for Our Lives. But finally, Kindra learned that—for her—the path toward hope wound through art, helping others, and sharing her story.

 

Kindra Neely survived the Umpqua Community College mass shooting in Oregon in 2015, and her beautiful, poignant, and searing memoir of the years after is absolutely required reading. There’s some background and context-setting, but the majority of Neely’s book focuses on the day of the shooting and what happened next: how she reacted in the short- and long-term, the impact of PTSD on her life, and the reality of a suicide attempt: all while presenting a front to the world. In the 300 pages of this debut graphic novel, Neely lays herself bare for a purpose, saying “I…went looking for a book about how to deal with the aftermath of a shooting, but I couldn’t find one. Maybe I could make a book to show people like me that they aren’t alone, or that their feelings are normal.”

 

Neely’s story is not just one of trauma, though it does deal with that. It keeps the tension between hope (she survived, she keeps surviving, she finds meaning in making art & helping others) and realism (there are bad days full of fear, depression is very real, and some people are uncomfortable around those who are open about their trauma). The pacing and scene changes are also telegraphed well and keep the “journey” of Neely’s life (narrative) moving. It is also heartwarming to see the real-life friends come alongside Neely in tough moments, and vice versa, even though no one is without flaws (except maybe Neely’s mom). The supportive, healthy relationships and networks from her life are excellent guides for young readers to follow, internalize, and model in their own lives.

 

Pacing and storytelling in the graphic novel format rely so much on the art… and I just want to say that Neely’s art is fabulous. I would have no idea that this was a debut – her style and linework are polished, modern, and evocative. The emotion bleeds through the pages, and while this volume is in full color, I think Neely’s neat linework and focus on facial expressions would work in any color palette. There’s doesn’t seem to be a predominant or overarching color theme, but teals and purples show up quite a bit in scenes set in Oregon, and harsh yellows and reds during moments of stress and trauma. Overt symbolism of dragonflies appears throughout (and is explained directly in the text).

 

Overall, Neely’s story and art are indistinguishable/inseparable – and the result, a compulsively-readable volume, allows her to be vulnerable in the service of helping others. Numb to This is heart-wrenching and incisive and belongs in every high school library in the country.

 

Recommended for: high school nonfiction collections, and anyone ages 14+ who has been touched by a mass shooting in some way (at this point, everyone in the US).

the unwanted: stories of the syrian refugees

In my spare time, I like to read fiction. If you’re familiar with my blog, you’ll know I especially lean toward the science fiction and fantasy end of the fiction spectrum. However, as a teacher, I must often read beyond my personal preference to find texts that will inform as well as entertain. Add that to the fact that my students prefer graphic novels (and why wouldn’t they – they’re accessible texts!), and I find myself searching graphic novel lists for nonfiction to incorporate in my classroom library. One excellent nonfiction graphic novel I read a few years ago (and put on the bookcase afterward), The Unwanted: Stories of the Syrian Refugees by Don Brown, has been quite popular with my 9th and 11th grade students.

In the tradition of Don Brown’s critically acclaimed, full-color nonfiction graphic novels The Great American Dust Bowl and Sibert Honor winning Drowned City, The Unwanted is an important, timely, and eye-opening exploration of the ongoing Syrian refugee crisis, exposing the harsh realities of living in, and trying to escape, a war zone.

Starting in 2011, refugees flood out of war-torn Syria in Exodus-like proportions. The surprising flood of victims overwhelms neighboring countries, and chaos follows. Resentment in host nations heightens as disruption and the cost of aid grows. By 2017, many want to turn their backs on the victims. The refugees are the unwanted.

Don Brown depicts moments of both heartbreaking horror and hope in the ongoing Syrian refugee crisis. Shining a light on the stories of the survivors, The Unwanted is a testament to the courage and resilience of the refugees and a call to action for all those who read.

Don Brown’s book is haunting nonfiction that outlines the ongoing conflict in Syria and shares individual anecdotes of Syrian refugees fleeing that violence. He keeps the context streamlined – this is not a sprawling war epic, but a general timeline peppered with vignettes to personalize the sheer scope of the war and its consequences. In retelling personal stories of some of the 6 million refugees, Brown does not delve too deeply into sectarian or religious divides, but instead outlines the enormity of the need, and the proportionally tiny U.S. response. The Unwanted is a brutal indictment of American self-absorption.

 

I don’t know what you remember about your teenage years, but I remember having a rapacious curiosity about the world – wanting to know (or experience) all of the things my parents had deemed me too young for, or had perhaps purposely left out of my education. I see that same thirst for knowledge in many of my students: they’re angry at the state of the world, constantly taking in new information, and want to know WHY they were never told about some of the deep inequalities and tragedies of the past and the present. They want to know why we don’t tell the dark secrets – why we aren’t honest. I believe that books like The Unwanted are exactly the sort of texts that we can and should share with children. I don’t mean to prove that we do care, or to absolve ourselves, but to keep stories alive, and to look the truth straight on and without flinching.

 

Brown clearly means for this title to be educational – it is especially suited for use in politics and current events (even years after its first publication!!) units. The content is sobering, tragic, and at times violent. I can envision pairing it with Elie Wiesel’s Night, or in a graphic novel unit with Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis or Art Spiegelman’s Maus.

 

As a graphic novel, it’s important to address the art style. Brown uses pen and ink with digital paint in washed out colors – a palette of browns and grays for the most part. This color scheme matches the seriousness of the content. Brown’s illustrations are quite spare – facial expressions are not very clearly depicted, and the linework at time feels sparse as well. When first reading the book, I did not love the art style – but I came around – I think it is as necessary and important to the storytelling as the anecdotal, vignette-style prose.

 

In all, The Unwanted is one of the most honest, unvarnished graphic novels for young adults on the refugee experience – and I’ve read a fair few. Its honesty asks something of its reader. I think the world needs more books like it.

 

Recommended for: readers ages 12 and up; it is necessary reading.

wake: the hidden history of women-led slave revolts

While I was in Las Vegas this last week with my sister, we chatted about our most recent reads, and which ones stood out weeks and months after the reading. For me, one of those reads was Dr. Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martínez's graphic novel memoir-slash-academic history Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. I picked this title up at my local library after seeing it mentioned in a newsletter from the publisher, and found it haunting and important.

Women warriors planned and led revolts on slave ships during the Middle Passage. They fought their enslavers throughout the Americas. And then they were erased from history.

Wake tells the “riveting” (Angela Y. Davis) story of Dr. Rebecca Hall, a historian, granddaughter of slaves, and a woman haunted by the legacy of slavery. The accepted history of slave revolts has always told her that enslaved women took a back seat. But Rebecca decides to look deeper, and her journey takes her through old court records, slave ship captain’s logs, crumbling correspondence, and even the forensic evidence from the bones of enslaved women from the “negro burying ground” uncovered in Manhattan. She finds women warriors everywhere.

Using a “remarkable blend of passion and fact, action and reflection” (NPR), Rebecca constructs the likely pasts of Adono and Alele, women rebels who fought for freedom during the Middle Passage, as well as the stories of women who led slave revolts in Colonial New York. We also follow Rebecca’s own story as the legacy of slavery shapes her life, both during her time as a successful attorney and later as a historian seeking the past that haunts her.

Illustrated beautifully in black and white, Wake will take its place alongside classics of the graphic novel genre, like Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis and Art Spiegelman’s Maus. This story of a personal and national legacy is a powerful reminder that while the past is gone, we still live in its wake.

In Wake, Dr. Hall weaves together the process of historical discovery – detailing time spent in archives, attempting to cross-reference what fragments of source documents still exist, and the frustrations of accessing both – with the riveting histories of women-led slave revolts both on the Atlantic and in America. She combines a clear (and fascinating!) approach to the historical record with interpretation of what may have happened in the gaps – the untold stories – and her own experiences in academia as a Black woman investigating the horrific acts and legacies of slavery. Then she mixes in what she knows about her own ancestry. The resulting narrative is a fascinating intertwining of research and personal memoir that speaks directly to today’s issues of police brutality, protest, and white supremacy. 

“While the past is gone, we still live in its wake.”

What stood out most? I loved the insider's view of how anyone can go about “finding” women’s history. We are often told (or simply assume) that women were not instrumental in history because they are not mentioned in the historical record. But Hall breaks down that fallacy beautifully, showing that if you know how to search, if you look in the absences and margins, and dig, you can indeed find histories of women who changed the world, even in the driest and most difficult of documents. Her topic, of course, is women who led slave revolts. She refused to accept that it was always men who led slave revolts, and she was able to find evidence to support her hunch. 

One of the moments when I felt the most indignant about the content of this book (which after all would not exist without the inhumanity and banal evil of slavery) was when Dr. Hall was turned away from the archive at Lloyd’s of London. This former insurer of slave ship cargo (and now, just plain bank & insurer) cared (cares?) more about protecting its reputation than about the truth of the historical record. On their website they now claim to have taken responsibility and apologize for their part in the transatlantic slave trade in the wake of the George Floyd protests, but Hall points out that they care about profit and reputation than possibly connecting people who were forcibly stripped of their histories, culture, and lives with (any) closure. Hall is right to call them out, and I could feel the intensity of the moment when she recounted being escorted out of the Lloyd’s building by security deep in my chest. What cowards! 

Beyond the electrifying content, much of the success of a graphic novel depends on the interconnection of text and art. Hall and Martínez are a talented team – this story jumps off the page and into the light. The no-nonsense, realistic art style, in black pen on white background, puts the emphasis of the book on the very important content. That isn’t to say the art is neglected, no! There are feelings that are too much for words, and Martínez skillfully illustrates emotional, fraught, and frustrating moments so that the reader feels as if they are in them with the women of the story. The dust jacket is also gorgeous – with embossed layers, interesting fonts and illustration, and vivid color. 

In all, Wake is a powerful, instructive, and merciless look at the way history is made, recorded, found, and interpreted, and it is at the same time a very personal, familial story and a call to action. I felt deeply moved by this work, and I hope many will read and learn from it. 

Recommended for: fans of historical nonfiction and graphic novel memoirs, anyone interested in books that tie-in history and current issues for young readers (Jason Reynolds & Ibram X. Kendi’s Stamped, for instance), and those looking for beautifully-constructed narratives that challenge them as readers, and challenge accepted history!

good girls don't make history

While I was visiting upstate New York earlier this summer, I spent a day at the Women’s Rights National Historical Park in Seneca Falls. It was powerful to experience the museum there, and visit the houses and places where Americans met and fostered a movement to win women the vote. What I appreciated most were the words of women long gone: women who believed with their hearts and backed up with their actions that change and progress were necessary, inevitable, and good. It was a pleasure to continue to think about those extraordinary women (and many more!) by reading Good Girls Don't Make History, a new graphic novel for young adults written by Elizabeth Kiehner, Kara Coyle, and Keith Olwell, and illustrated by Michaela Dawn and Mary Sanchez. 

History has rarely been told from a woman’s point of view. 

Good Girls Don’t Make History is an important graphic novel that amplifies the voices of female legends from 1840 to the present day. 
 
Reliving moments from the lives of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Sojourner Truth, Alice Paul, Ida B. Wells, and Susan B. Anthony, these inspiring stories are boldly told from one of the most formative eras in women’s history—the fight for the vote in the United States.

The tale begins at a modern-day polling station in California with a mother and daughter voting together, then flashes back 180 years to the World Anti-Slavery Convention where the women's movement got its legendary start.
 
The twists and turns take readers across the country and through time, illuminating parallels between epic battles for liberty in the past and similar struggles for justice today. 
 
A powerful and important examination of some key figures in the ongoing fight for equality, Good Girls Don’t Make History’s accounts of bravery, perseverance and courage are truly inspiring for readers of any age.

Good Girls Don’t Make History isn’t quite nonfiction, but it reads like it. I say it isn’t, because it takes some creative license with the conversations historical figures may have had with each other, and it also includes some original characters for the sake of the narrative – to intro specific stories and vignettes. What it is: a collection of the experiences of influential women in the women’s suffrage movement. The book attempts to illustrate most of the important events from a history often excluded from mainstream U.S. History narratives. It does this by taking readers through a rough timeline of events in the suffrage movement, and by introducing many of the historical figures involved. The effect is a skim: for fully-fleshed out history and context (and to truly “meet” the characters and know all of their aims and dreams, and to read them in their own words), most readers will want to do additional research.

 

According to the forward, the team behind Good Girls Don’t Make History hopes to present women’s history that is glossed over in textbooks in an accessible, easily digestible format. The goal is to educate, to reveal hidden (or forgotten, or ignored) history, and to reach those who might not dive any deeper than their high school assignments for information about America’s past. While that is admirable, the book itself suffers from a lack of cohesive storytelling and from trying to pack too much history into a short volume. The sheer number of names, organizations, dates, and competing interests are confusing, even to someone with prior knowledge of the events covered.

 

One thing I appreciated about this graphic novel was that it complicated the view of suffragettes as heroes focused on equality for all. The book tells the story of Black women who were excluded from national suffrage organizations and points out that they did their own organizing as a result. Good Girls Don’t Make History also makes clear that many women of color did not receive the vote until many years after the passage of the 19th Amendment. This may, even in 2021, still be news to a lot of people.

 

Let’s talk about art! It was constructed digitally, with a watercolor-like look, in a palette of blues, reds, and yellows. My favorite page spreads were those with a short quote from an important woman in history one page, and a portrait of that woman on the facing page. I also appreciated the spreads with illustrated renderings of actual newspaper headlines from important dates and events related to woman’s suffrage. I would have liked to see a little more emotion in the art – the closeups of women’s facial expressions could have told more of the story instead of relying completely on the text or dialogue.

 

In all, Good Girls Don’t Make History is an introductory text that covers the timeline of an important history. While I didn’t find it compelling, I think it could spark conversation, especially if included in a library alongside graphic novels like Mikki Kendall’s Amazons, Abolitionists, and Activists.

 

Recommended for: middle and high school libraries and classroom libraries, and those who may not know where to begin reading about the women’s suffrage movement.

 

Good Girls Don't Make History will be available from Wide Eyed Editions (Quarto) on August 31, 2021. 

Fine print: I received an e-ARC from the publisher for review consideration. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

dreamers

Unless I type up a review within minutes of finishing a book (a vanishingly rare occurrence!), I organize my thoughts by writing them down long-hand. And then… given my current rate of production… it may take a year or two to actually convert a review to a digital version and post it on my blog. In the autumn of 2018 I had a hugely productive couple of months, reading- and review-wise, and I’m only just now starting to think about posting those reviews. Yuyi Morales’ beautiful and much-lauded picture book Dreamers was one of those titles, and today I’m finally getting around to reviewing it. While my thoughts may not be as fresh, I can say with conviction that the art has stayed with me – vivid in memory. Morales’ talent has definite staying power.

In 1994, Yuyi Morales left her home in Xalapa, Mexico and came to the US with her infant son. She left behind nearly everything she owned, but she didn’t come empty-handed.

She brought her strength, her work, her passion, her hopes and dreams…and her stories. Caldecott Honor artist and five-time Pura Belpré winner Yuyi Morales’s gorgeous new picture book Dreamers is about making a home in a new place. Yuyi and her son Kelly’s passage was not easy, and Yuyi spoke no English whatsoever at the time. But together, they found an unexpected, unbelievable place: the public library. There, book by book, they untangled the language of this strange new land, and learned to make their home within it.

Dreamers is a celebration of what immigrants bring with them when they leave their homes. It’s a story about family. And it’s a story to remind us that we are all dreamers, bringing our own gifts wherever we roam. Beautiful and powerful at any time but given particular urgency as the status of our own Dreamers becomes uncertain, this is a story that is both topical and timeless.

In Dreamers a mother (Morales) tells her son about her journey to the United States. She illustrates becoming an immigrant, navigating a new life and new customs, and reacting to the new, foreign world around her. While this memoir leaves out some more practical details, it’s an immigrant story made accessible for all ages. Morales trails more difficult, mature clues throughout the illustrations, and discusses what happened in some detail in the back matter in a section entitled “My Story.” But the undisputed center of the story is when mother and son encounter a library for the first time: an improbable, suspicious, and imagination-sparking place that makes all of the previous difficulties palatable and traversable.

Morales writes:

“Books became our language.

Books became our home.

Books became our lives.”

This love letter to books and libraries is accompanied by astonishingly beautiful art – the true star of the book. Morales’ mixed media art pops on each pate, and color is used as a metaphor for opening the mind (it grows as the author settles into a new life and makes discoveries). I loved the use of color, the embroidery art, and textures. Accompanying the art and exuberance over books is a back matter index of “Books that Inspired Me” if the reader wants to follow Morales’ path.

The book as a whole is very positive, and the focus is not on the hardships of the immigration journey (though they are hinted at, as I mentioned above), but the wonder of libraries and books as places and things that can act as a catalyst for creativity and take you as far as you can imagine (or farther!). Side note: this isn’t a book about DREAMers or DACA recipients. It’s an artfully told exploration of opening doors and flowering creativity after a rough transition. It would pair especially well with other books that touch on those themes such as Juana & Lucas and The Day You Begin.

In all, Dreamers is a beautiful book that will inspire fanciful art as well as deep questions and conversations. It’s more of a stare-at-the-pictures kind of book, but would also work well during storytime if combined with lots of context.

Recommended for: every picture book library, and especially for bibliophiles, no matter their age.

the girl who ran: bobbi gibb, the first woman to run the boston marathon

The very first thing you notice about this picture book is the gorgeous cover art. The Girl Who Ran in large, white font, against a fiery watercolor background slanted crosswise on the dustjacket. And then you see the little picture of Bobbi Gibb at the bottom, running with her hair streaming behind her, echoing the colors above. If it gets you to pick up the book, the cover has done its job. In this case, I don’t see how anyone could resist it!

“She said she would do it, she wasn’t a liar; she’d show them by running like the wind in the fire.” When Bobbi Gibb saw the Boston Marathon her mind was set—she had to be a part of it. She trained hard, journeying across America to run on all kinds of terrain. But when the time came to apply for the marathon, she was refused entry. They told her girls don’t run, girls can’t run. That didn’t stop Bobbi.

This picture book tells the true story of how she broke the rules in 1966 and how, one step at a time, her grit and determination changed the world. The energetic and bright illustrations capture the emotions of Bobbi’s journey and the fluidity of running. Created in collaboration with Bobbi Gibb, The Girl Who Ran is perfect for would-be runners, kids of all ages, and everyone out there with a love of sport.

Frances Poletti and Kristina Yee's picture book,  The Girl Who Ran: Bobbi Gibb, The First Woman to Run the Boston Marathon, illustrated by Susanna Chapman (who also created that gorgeous cover!) tells the story of Bobbi Gibb. Who is Bobbi Gibb? She is the first woman to run the Boston Marathon (the most famous marathon in America). Bobbi loved to run from a young age, and she ran, as the book repeats, “like the wind in the fire.” The book chronicles how attitudes toward her running changed as she grew up – she faced not only official rejection from race officials, but at home, from her family. But after secretly training and determining to race, Bobbi would not be dissuaded. And her mother changed her mind! So Bobbi ran, right into history. And her life, and the lives of others changed because of that.

On one hand you could characterize this picture book as an inspirational biography for younger readers. But really, it’s more than that. The prose is lyrical, and it’s accompanied by lovely art that will appeal to any reader, whether they prefer nonfiction or not. It also doesn’t hesitate to tell the story of familial disapproval and conflicts between traditional gendered expectations and personal aspirations – something that we can always use more of in books for younger kids.

As expected in a book about a runner, most of the page spreads show movement, and the illustrator portrays this with the swirls of watercolor “fire” so that you can see Bobbi’s path through the landscape. The art really shines, and in the final pages, at the marathon finish line, there’s a foldout spread that broadens the scope of the moment into something dramatic.

Another positive: at the end of the book there’s a concise 2-page spread with both a formal biography and a timeline showing Bobbi’s marathon runs, Boston Marathon milestones and women’s involvement. It would be a good starting point for a school project!

In all, The Girl Who Ran is a beautiful picture book that illustrates the value of persevering despite setbacks, or even the disbelief or opposition of your family.

Recommended for: readers ages 6-9 who are interested in nonfiction biographies, running, and people overcoming the odds, and folks any age who enjoy positive, inspirational stories.

Fine print: I received a copy of this title for review from the publisher. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

the things that i love about trees

I’ve mentioned this on Instagram before, but one of my local indie bookshops is just down the street from the place I get my hair done. I stop by to browse their picture books nearly every time I walk by, and thus I buy their latest selection, because I have several little ones in my life and no self-control in bookstores. I picked up Chris Butterworth and Charlotte Voake’s The Things That I Love About Trees the last time I was there, and I really adore it.

In an exuberant text accompanied by gorgeous, windswept illustrations, two esteemed picture-book creators celebrate the mighty tree.

Journey through the seasons and discover how much there is to love about trees! From brand-new buds in spring to the sound of the wind whooshing through the leaves in summer, from the fall colors to the feel of winter's rough bark and the promise of spring returning again -- no matter what time of year, there's always something extraordinary to notice about the trees around your neighborhood. Chris Butterworth's text, gently sprinkled with facts, captures the wonder of a child as Charlotte Voake's busy, buoyant artwork conveys how something as simple and common as a tree can feel like magic taking root around you.

There’s just something wonderful about trees, isn’t there? I’ve always thought so, and I especially thought so growing up in the Pacific Northwest with a front yard full of trees, forts, and pine needles. Chris Butterworth’s nonfiction picture book about trees leads readers through the seasons, starting with spring, and describes how trees act and grow in the changing environment.

The Things That I Love About Trees invites engagement with the senses – Butterworth tells readers how trees react to hot days and storms, reminds them what to listen for, and describes the feel of bark and leaves. It may be printed on traditional paper, but it is a sensual buffet. It made me want to go outside on a tree-spotting walk, and I’m sure others will feel the same!

This book is perfect for a range of young readers – very little ones will love the illustrations and simplicity of the big text story that goes on a seasonal journey. Slightly older and independent readers will enjoy the brief tree facts in smaller text on each page. Adults will appreciate the book’s year-round readability, as each season in a tree’s life cycle is represented. The combination of beautiful art and interesting tree facts ensure that this book will be re-read over and over with love.

Oh, did I mention the art? Charlotte Voake’s illustrations are done in beautiful ink and watercolor, with broad, abstract strokes contrasted with precise, tiny details. The illustrations allow for generous white space on most pages, and the humans and animals included in the illustrations provide scale to trees (and keep the book from being an overwhelming smorgasbord of greenery).  The human figures are mostly fairly indistinct – trees are the focus of the book, after all! The pages depicting enormous summer-time tree trunks were perhaps my favorite – they reminded me of the great trees I’ve seen in my life.

My two personal favorite things about the book were the endpapers, which feature close-ups with different kinds of tree leaves and their identifying information, and the final page spread at the end which suggests tree-adjacent activities and guides younger readers in how to do research! The author doesn’t talk down to his young readers, and that’s always nice to see.

In all, The Things That I Love About Trees is full of facts that will delight curious kids, and perhaps prompt them to want to learn more (and see more)!

Recommended for: tree-lovers and -huggers of all ages, young readers who want to know how things work, fans of Kate Messner's Over and Under the Snow, and teachers doing environmental, natural world, and season-focused units.