Isabel, Isabel, read some books

Can we read? No. 87

Hello, hello. Hi there 👋

I’m back to regularly scheduled programming after a week away, and ready for all the fun things I’ve got planned for this newsletter between now and the end of the year. (Like my big, juicy special edition on Halloween, ICYMI, and a mini issue on owls I published yesterday, if you’re looking to get into the spooky spirit of things.)

I was able to have a real vacation — thanks in no small part to the fact that I got really sick, but I did manage to reflect on this specific part of my life. It takes a lot of work to create this newsletter, to send it out twice every week, to stay motivated, to maintain the energy required to think and plan and write and edit and be a responsive person once I’ve released my words into the wild. I had a brief moment where it occurred to me that I could just quit. I had that exact thought: “I could just quit my newsletter.” But immediately what rushed in was the secondary, reactionary response that yes, I could quit — I can quit at any time — but then I’d be missing all the things I get out of it, namely the people I’ve met (“met”), the relationships I’ve built, the satisfaction I feel when I know I’ve helped someone.

It’s just children’s books, I know this — it’s not world- or even life-changing, it’s not all that special and I’m not the only one writing about this topic. But reading can — and does — feed the mind and the soul in equal measure, and that’s not nothing, either. If what I’m doing here helps you help the children in your life to know themselves better, see the beauty in the world around them, build their inner wealth, or any of the many other things that a literary life can offer a person, even a very young one, well, that’s a reason for me. That matters to me enough to keep going when sometimes I think I can’t.

In so many ways, this passion project of mine has morphed from a one-way wind tunnel into a mutual feedback loop, where I give and give, but I also receive and receive. I’m not dumb (or self-centered) enough to think that’s something I’ve built alone — I have a lot of people who support me every day, people who scaffold this newsletter by holding me up in many different ways.

Why am I telling you this? Because I want to say thank you for being on the other end of the loop, for closing the circle even if you never do anything more than read what I write here, for the energy exchange.

Occasionally I’ve said I would do this even if I had no subscribers, but that’s not really true, not anymore. It means the world to me that you are here.

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Hannah’s Night by Komako Sakai (2012)

What if you were three, perhaps four years old, and you woke in the night when the rest of your family was asleep, and went about the house doing whatever you wanted? This is what happens to Hannah one night, when she awakens to find herself alone, in a way, during the magic hours.

She’s quite little (and very sweet), so her mischief is of the very innocent variety — she and her cat, Shiro, both go to the bathroom before heading to the fridge to “eat some cherries without asking.” They gaze at the moon before returning to the bedroom, where Hannah decides to play with some of her big sister’s toys and belongings. Eventually — in my favorite image of the book, beautifully rendered in graphite and oil pastel — it starts to get light, and Hannah nods off at the end of her sister’s bed.

If this sounds uneventful and gentle, you’re absolutely right, but that doesn’t take away from its appeal, especially for little ones for whom roaming around the house unattended and uncontrolled is the ultimate fantasy. It’s like a dream, but one that could be true, and what’s more fun than that?

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Alma and How She Got Her Name by Juana Martinez-Neal (2018)

“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 who 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 as he tells of her ancestors’ actions, traits, habits, and foibles, she is able to connect to each of them, see something of them in herself, and accept 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 thinks about both my immediate and distant ancestors nearly constantly (and even more often during times of stress, challenge, or dissatisfaction with something about myself), I love this one for the perspective it brings and the message it offers: 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.

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Daniel’s Good Day by Micha Archer (2019)

I think the prequel to this title — Daniel Finds a Poem, which I reviewed in issue No. 44 — is basically perfect, so when I saw that Archer had a second Daniel offering, I snapped it up immediately, and I’m so glad I did.

A great part of the appeal of Archer’s work is her wonderfully textured, colorful oil-and-collage images, accented by tissue paper printed with homemade stamps — they’re so cheerful and so evocative of the mood the story evokes, it reminds me a lot of Ezra Jack Keats’ work. Of course, that wouldn’t matter much if the text wasn’t excellent in its own right, but it is.

Here readers follow Daniel through a routine — but lovely — day in his neighborhood, where he knows many people, all of whom wish him well as he walks to his Grandma’s house. “What makes a good day for you?” he asks everyone, and they each give their answer: when skies are clear, a steady wind, a day in the park with a bench in the shade, a long nap for the babies, and so on. It’s a poem, in its way, celebrating a regular old wonderful day.

I love the idea that the small things in life are full of beauty — of course I do, I write about that very thing at the beginning of these issues nearly all the time — but it takes a special writer and illustrator to convey that ethos so clearly and, yes, beautifully, to small children. Archer is the rare person does it brilliantly.

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The Adventures of Isabel by Ogden Nash, illustrated by James Marshall (poem was published in 1963, book was illustrated in 1991)

You may recognize Ogden Nash’s name — he was an American poet known for his light and super-clever verse, unorthodox rhyme schemes often just a few lines long, packed to the brim with incredible wordplay and humor.

“The Adventures of Isabel” was, in fact, a poem for children, so it’s puzzling that it took nearly 30 years to add illustrations and make it into a bonafide book, but perhaps it took that long to find someone who was a good spiritual match for Nash — I cannot think of anyone better than Marshall, with his simple, goofy, yet utterly appealing line-and-watercolor illustrations.

Isabel’s adventures are hilarious and will appeal to little ones, who can follow along with the action via the images, as well as those who are able to just listen as Isabel meets a bear (he threatens to eat her, so she eats him), a witch (she turns the witch to milk and drinks her), a giant (she cuts his head off), and a doctor (she “cures” him) — there’s a lot of courage and comeuppance here, which appeals just a little bit to everyone, does it not?

This is a old poem worth reading and knowing — if for no other reason than the sheer, silly fun of it.

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That’s all from me today, but before I go… last week my wonderful friend Hope Henchy of the fantastic newsletter, Family Scripts, published a guest post I wrote for her, if you’re interested:

Picture Books About Courage

Thanks for reading, today and always.
Sarah