Bubblegum 🍬 delicious books
Can we read? No. 160
Hello, hello 👋
Thank you to those of you who left such lovely and supportive comments on my post last week about divorce, including my own. Many of you have been subscribers long enough to know how difficult, sometimes even brutal, the past few years of my life have been — it’s always a little strange to be on the receiving end of that kind of silent witness, but I continue to be amazed by what a sweet community this is. And I’m grateful.
Despite all the things that do tether me to my life and myself — my children, my family, my friends, and my work in its various forms — lately I have felt absolutely unmoored. I don’t know where I am or whose possessions surround me; I feel like my head is attached to my body only by a string I am holding tenuously in my hand, like a balloon. It’s not just that everything that’s up is down and everything that’s down is up, it’s that everything is all over the place in every direction and every which way — it’s like a rollercoaster designed by Lewis Carroll and Rube Goldberg on a day they both took psychedelic drugs.
That said, it’s clear to me that I need some breathing space from this newsletter. I am barely keeping up (read: not really keeping up) with my job that pays my actual bills, and I am about to head out on yet another work trip, and something has to give for a little while. Time TBD, but until I decide otherwise.
I have two options:
Take a break, which, to be clear, does NOT mean a complete break, since I still have to work on future newsletters even when I am not working on current newsletters
Exclusively republish from my archives. No new reviews, but this newsletter will keep on coming. Or maybe come bi-weekly.
Either of these would give me the breathing room I need — one is not less than the other — so I am seeking your opinion.
I have — and will continue to — always use the feedback you give me to make decisions about the work I do here. Thank you 🙏
Alma and How She Got Her Name by Juana Martinez-Neal (2018)
🧒 Preschool–Early Reader (3–6)
📖 Independent Readers (6–9)
“Alma Sophia Esperanza José Pura Candela had a long time — too long, if you asked her.” So begins the lovely story of a little girl whose name is so long, “it never fits,” and what happens when her father takes her through her family history, explaining the origin of each name and the incredible person behind each one.
As she listens to her father tell of her ancestors’ actions, traits, habits, and foibles, she connects with each of them, sees something of them in herself, and accepts the gift of their names in hers. Martinez-Neal’s subdued graphite, colored pencil, and print transfer on handmade textured paper illustrations add to the feeling here of walking down memory lane, even if the memories aren’t yours but are borrowed from someone else and only imagined.
As someone who frequently thinks about both my immediate and distant ancestors — and even more often during times of stress, challenge, or dissatisfaction with something about myself — I love the message that we are so much more than just ourselves, but rather the product of a long line of ordinary, remarkable, complex people who live inside of each one of us, in our names, our personalities, and our lives.
This is an outstanding book for discussion in homes, classrooms, libraries, and beyond. After all, there is a reason Shakespeare asked, “What’s in a name?” and it’s interesting to contemplate and talk about what’s in your name, and how it came to be yours.
What Happened to You? by James Catchpole, illustrated by Karen George (2021)
🧒 Preschool–Early Reader (3–6)
📖 Independent Readers (6–9)
Crocodiles and sharks are no match for a pirate like Joe — kids Joe hasn’t met yet, on the other hand, are an entirely different story. Some of them notice, at top volume, “YOU’VE ONLY GOT ONE LEG!” Yes, and your point is?
Joe fields the question, “What happened to you?” a lot, but it’s not a story he feels like telling — he’s too busy squashing a shark. Still, other children press him, and Joe is fed up. (George’s bright and active pencil and digital illustration show this to great effect.) But Joe refuses to explain himself, and eventually, the children simply play together, pirates all around.
Finally, someone asks, “Do you ever get bored of that question, about your leg, that you don’t have?” Joe replies, providing a gentle yet assertive answer not only to his new friends but to the young readers with this book in their hands: “What do you think?”
This is a humorous — and also serious — story that helps children understand what it might feel like to be different, how annoying it is to be asked about it constantly (whatever “it” may be), and how disabled people are not looking to be a teachable moment every minute of the day (if ever). A welcome and necessary read.
Hana Hashimoto, Sixth Violin by Chieri Uegaki, illustrated by Qin Leng (2014)
🧒 Preschool–Early Reader (3–6)
📖 Independent Readers (6–9)
In this beautiful story about the power of doing things your own way, believing in yourself, and having a growth mindset, Hana’s brothers laugh at her when she tells them she’s going to enter the talent show and play her violin (even though she is still very much a beginner).
Instead of letting this deter her, she thinks of her Ojichan, who had been part of a great symphony orchestra in Kyoto once upon a time. She practices every day, even though she doesn’t play well, much less perfectly, and by the time the talent show arrives, her performance is a different sort of triumph than you might expect.
It’s hard to explain the soft beauty of this quiet tale — with Leng’s pleasing illustrations rendered in pencil and colored digitally — its power lies in its ability to speak to something inside all of us, to those questions we harbor, especially when we don’t know what we’re doing: can I do it? Am I good enough? Will I ever get better?
Hana teaches readers big and small: the answer is yes, and yes, and yes.
Bubblegum Delicious by Dennis Lee, illustrated by David McPhail (2000)
🧒 Preschool–Early Reader (3–6)
📖 Independent Readers (6–9)
If you’re familiar with Lee’s previous work — there’s quite a bit of it, including two titles I’ve previously reviewed, Alligator Pie (issue No. 55) and The Ice Cream Store (issue No. 63) — you’ll notice a slight departure here from his usual super-silly fare replete with wild and witty wordplay. These poems all feature a single little boy, and the tone is more tender, touching on a range of topics both real (rocking in a rocking chair, playing basketball, going to the movies) and imagined (riding an indigo stallion, pollywogs parachuting down from the sky, making pretend sandwiches out of “goober and guck”). The focus is on friendship, but most of the friends are animals, or else appear only in the boy’s head.
There is plenty of humor and fun here, but there is also a fair amount of subtle, hard stuff: loneliness, grief, the deep missing of someone you love. It’s almost as if Lee set out to write a funny book, per usual, but something happened — maybe in his own, real life? — and it permeated his poetry.
Which isn’t a criticism by any means. Life is funny and hard, is it not? This is why we need poetry — kids included — and why poetry is eternally lucky to have Dennis Lee.
Thanks for reading today and always,
Sarah
Whichever is most doable for YOU. You deserve a break, full stop.
I vote that you take a *complete* break—no newsletter work at all. And then, when you come back, you publish from the archives. I promise that we will all still be here when you’re ready to come back ❤️