Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Spotlight on #OwnVoices: Juana & Lucas

Juana & Lucas jacket art
Juana & Lucas. Written and illustrated by Juana Medina. Candlewick, 2016. 88 pages. ISBN 978-07636-7208-9 

Here in the United States, books about children living in Latin America are few and far between. That's just one of the reasons I was so delighted to find Juana Medina's new book for newly independent readers.

Juana is a funny, amiable girl who lives in modern day Bogotá, Colombia.  Lucas is her dog and her constant companion. Aside from Lucas, she loves drawing, Astroman, repollitas (brussels sprouts), Bogotá, her mami, and her best friend Juli.  She'd rather play fútbol than go to school -- she detests her school uniform which is hot and itchy. She's also not too wild about her math class, and really dislikes her new English class. In fact, much of the book is devoted to adult friends and relatives trying to convince her that English is worth learning. 

Spanish words appear frequently and naturally in the text. They are almost always cognates so they are easy for non-Spanish speakers to translate. And there is enough context to help readers understand the Spanish.  

The book is generously illustrated on every page, making this a good choice for  children who are just getting into chapter books. But there is a sophistication to the artwork, as well, which includes diagrams of significant people, pointing out the most important things about them. 

Juana & Lucas interior

And Juana's voice is sharp and distinctive. She walks the fine line between being Everychild and being singular. In literature she is most akin to Atinuke's Anna Hibiscus, but she is part Ramona, too. Young readers will find her very appealing and we can hope that this will be the first volume of many about Juana and Lucas.

It's extraordinario!

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Awards Discussion Fodder: Thoughts on Stereotypes

Let’s talk about stereotypes.  Award season is right around the corner, and while I’m not writing this with any specific book in mind, it’s good to think about stereotypes when considering award contenders.

So what is a stereotype?  Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie talks about this much better than I can, but I’ll give it a shot.  Here’s what Merriam-Webster brings to the table:

Stereotype (n) - an often unfair and untrue belief that many people have about all people or things with a particular characteristic

Let’s take this apart.  A stereotype is, indeed, a belief.  But it’s not necessarily a belief about “all” people in a group.  Melissa Harris-Perry, for example, talks about multiple stereotypes of Black women: the “mammy,” the “hyper-sexualized woman,” and the “angry Black woman.”  In this sense, there are multiple “single stories” of Black women (to borrow Adichie’s term).  The fact that (most) people don’t believe that any one of these stereotypes applies to the entire population of Black women doesn’t mean that they’re not stereotypes.

“Untrue”--that’s another problem.  Is it untrue that some East Asian people play the violin?  That some Latinx kids play soccer?  That some Jewish people have relatively big noses?  And why shouldn’t they? (Says the Jewish girl who has fought for a proper bagel and lox.)

The problem with stereotypes is that they are reductive, not that they are categorically false.  Which brings me to my personal definition:

Stereotype (n) - A reductive story, told about a person or people, that intentionally or unintentionally dehumanizes them.

So what does this mean for book evaluation?  I think it means we need to pay attention when characters are given stereotypical traits.  Is the Native character just there to be noble and stoic?  Does the South Asian character just talk about math and samosas all the time?  Does the Black best friend do more than be the Black best friend?

If a character includes a stereotypical trait, it’s important to ask whether the author actively counters that stereotype.  If you want examples, go read something by Gene Luen Yang, who could teach a master class in defeating stereotypes.  In The Shadow Hero, for instance, Hank’s mother begins the book as a stereotypical Chinese “tiger mom” and, over the course of the book, becomes fully human and 3-dimensional.  American Born Chinese (SPOILER ALERT!!!) employs a different strategy to nullify Chin-Kee, who embodies every grotesque, inhuman stereotype of a Chinese man: Chin-Kee winds up beheaded and exposed as the non-human thing it is.

So ask yourself: When an author introduces a stereotype about a character, does s/he work to counter that stereotype by humanizing the character?  Because as much as we wish books existed in a vacuum, they don’t; including a minor East Asian character whose defining trait is playing the violin is loaded, and different from including a minor White character whose defining trait is playing the violin.  Neither is necessarily bad--what matters is whether all of the characters are allowed to be fully human.

If and when someone brings up a concern about stereotypes, it’s important that we listen, especially if we were previously unaware that something is a stereotype.  That lack of awareness is itself a privilege, and we should welcome the chance to remedy our ignorance.

-Allie Jane Bruce

Ed. Note 10/19 - Thank you, Tsujimonster, for pointing out my mistake with "s/he". That is 100% my error, and I'm sorry. I should have used "they" so as to not exclude people who identify as nonbinary. I'm going to leave it as-is in the piece, for maximum transparency and to avoid confusion, but I'll say here: In the 2nd-to-last paragraph, where I say "...does s/he work to counter that stereotype...", I should have said "...do they work to counter that stereotype...." -AJB

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Spotlight on #OwnVoices: The Adventures of Sparrowboy

By Brian Pinkney. Simon & Schuster, 1997.  ISBN: # 978-0689810718. Click here to purchase.  

For a #ThrowbackThursday spotlight on #OwnVoices today, I would like to invite you all back to 1997: a time when print newspapers regularly arrived on doorsteps and Brian Pinkney’s The Adventures of Sparrowboy was published to great acclaim. 

Image from 3.bp.blogspot.com
 The picture book features Henry, a paperboy who is feeling depressed by the headlines in the news. While reading the paper before he makes his deliveries, he finds solace in the comics. He especially loves the story of Mark Steed, a police officer (Black like him) who changes from mortal to superhero when he transfers powers with a falcon and defends the defenseless as “Falconman.” Fiction becomes reality when a sparrow jumps in front of Henry’s bicycle and the two experience a mysterious “ZAP!”

Henry flies over his handlebars and soars into the sky, loop-de-looping over the neighborhood, delivering papers and helping animals and people in distress along the way. When he realizes that by flying, he has grounded the bird, Henry makes one final heroic act. After returning things to normal on Thurber Street, Henry notices that the big adventure has made him feel “just a little better.”

Pinkney employs the scratchboard technique of illustration for which he is famous, but his traditional picture book format shifts when the superhero elements come into play: captions, panels, and sound effects enthral readers and provide clues to them about what is actually happening. (The Falconman comic strip Henry loves is written by “Barney Nipkin,” a Brian Pinkney anagram.)

Even though print newspaper deliveries might not be part of every family’s routine in 2016, and a tween with a paper route is even harder to find—most young people still know what a newspaper is (and the comics format is as beloved as ever). The Adventures of Sparrowboy is relevant to today's readers, on account of the ever-increasing popularity of comics and graphic novels and the reality that the world's news can still be hard to grasp.

The Adventures of Sparrowboy validates the experience of seeing difficult news, and also engaging in a thrilling escape. It is recommended to any fans of visual narrative, especially those self-identified superhero kids looking for someone new to celebrate.
Reviewed by Elisa Gall

Friday, October 7, 2016

Leaves Changing Color

Award Season is full upon us!  A few weeks ago Kirkus announced its Finalists for the Kirkus Prize in Young Reader's Literature. Children's and Teen Editor Vicky Smith called it "a Heckuva List," and it is. Narrowed down to just two titles in each of three subcategories (picture books, middle grade, and young adult), it features diversity in style and audience as well as in authorship.   Few lists of this length do, to this extent. 

That is, until this week, when the National Book Award Finalists were announced. Of course, we'd seen the longlist earlier so I was already hopeful, but following years when it was remarkable to have more than one writer of color among the finalists, it is wonderful to see, here too, a broader readership represented. 

Building on two strong years for diversity in the ALSC Newbery and Caldecott awards, can we hope that award juries, and the organizations that run them, are taking fully to heart the need to bring to the table voices that might have previously been undervalued? Are they finally asking: whose excellence in literature, and why? Setting standards by a canon that responds primarily to White voices is an exercise in exclusion, and ultimately, irrelevance. The books now being recognized for major awards by book creators of color and First Nations/Native people can only make the field stronger, and expose previous year's lists' paltry tokenism.

Looking at these lists, I'm reminded of what Ruth Bader Ginsburg said in a talk last year at Georgetown University Law Center:

"People ask me sometimes ... 'When will there be enough women on the court?' And my answer is: when there are nine."

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

#OwnVoices Reviews

Throughout September we posted a daily review of a book we recommended that represented #OwnVoices. We hope you all enjoyed reading the reviews as much as we enjoyed writing them. There's nothing quite like connecting readers with good books!

We never had trouble finding a book a day to review, and, in fact, we had more books on our initial list than there were days in September. And that's not counting the books that are still coming in. So we're going to keep going. Not daily, but off and on, as we find books we especially want everyone to know about and read.

Unfortunately, there continue to be new books published every year with stereotypes, inaccuracies, and inauthentic points of view. We'll still write about them and call attention to them. But one way to counter these problematic books is to hold up the really good books that are out there that do get it right. And we hope publishers will continue to find and publish #OwnVoices so we all can continue to read them and share them with children and teens.

Friday, September 30, 2016

September Spotlight on #OwnVoices: First Snow

By Bomi Park. Chronicle, 2016. 32 pages ISBN 978-1-4521-5472-5 Click to purchase

First published in South Korea in 2012, Bomi Park's debut is a dreamlike picture book that celebrates the wonder of the natural world. 

When an unnamed small girl awakens to the first snowfall of the season, she puts on her boots, coat, scarf and hat and heads outside. Never mind that the sky is still pitch black. That's all part of the sense of wonder we get from the pictures, shown in black, white and shades of gray. The only color initially is the red scarf the little girl wears around her neck, and the red stripe across her knitted mittens. The textured paintings are quiet and subtle and striking. 

With her puppy companion at her side, she begins to roll a snowball. She rolls and rolls, it gets bigger and bigger, and she gets further and further from home. Through a field, past an early morning train, through the dark woods -- there is nothing threatening in her snowy world. Rabbits, a fox, a deer, and even a bear watch her with curiosity, even reverence, as she steadfastly rolls, rolls and rolls. 

An interior spread from First Snow by Bomi Park
By the time she reaches a clearing, her snowball is twice as big as she is and it almost blocks her view of the dozens of other children who've had the same idea. They combine their snowballs to create a village of snowmen, all decked out in the children's hats and scarves. And then the children and the snowmen mysteriously lift off the ground and start to float away.  

But was it all a dream? Or her active imagination at play? The final page showing one tiny snowman in the little girl's back yard suggests that she didn't really roll all that far away from home. Unless, of course, the snowman floated down from the skies...

Bomi Park is an amazing new (at least to the U.S.) talent, and I hope this will be the first of many picture books we'll see from her. Kudos to Chronicle for finding and publishing this gem of a book, and for making it possible for a small girl in South Korea to roll her snowball all the way to the United States.

Reviewed by KT Horning

Thursday, September 29, 2016

September Spotlight on #OwnVoices: Eighth Grade Superzero

As part of our Spotlight on #OwnVoices in September, we will feature books not published in the last year on Throwback Thursday. Today Sam looks at a novel published in 2010.

By Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich. Arthur A. Levine Books, an Imprint of Scholastic Inc., 2010. ISBN 978-0-545-09676-8 Click here to purchase.

On the first day of eighth grade, Reggie McKnight is picked to say the school pledge at a whole school assembly, but when he opens his mouth to speak... he throws up. In front of everyone. Now “Pukey,” as he is known, is the subject of teasing (mostly from his former friend, Donovan) at his Brooklyn school. Plus, Reggie pines over a girl who seems to be out of his league (“A cool wind blows in when the doors opens; it’s Mialonie”) and things are rough at home, with his long out-of-work dad moping around the house and his mom working extra hours to help make ends meet. Luckily, Reggie’s best friends — civic-minded Ruthie and aspiring DJ Joe C. — have his back, even when he finds himself managing the class presidential campaign of hard-to-love Vicky. But self-conscious Reggie starts to come into his own when his church group begins a service project at the Olive Branch Shelter, where he begins to discover his own superpowers — kindness, decency and leadership.

Rhuday-Perkovich’s debut works on many levels. It’s a classic school story with engaging middle school characters (though Donovan’s bad guy act is a bit over-the-top). Reggie’s family is supportive and the problems they face ring true. But the volunteerism central to the story is something that we don’t see as much in fiction for young people. The descriptions of the student experiences at the Center are nuanced and believable — Reggie is disturbed at first (“bleach and homeless people take funk to a whole new level”), but eventually finds his comfort zone and weaves himself into the fabric of the place to become a catalyst for positive change.

Rhuday-Perkovich has an ear for dialogue — how many books for older middle grade readers have realistic discussions about God and spirituality? But Reggie and Ruthie question each other in more than one memorable exchange on the subject, and their youth group leader Dave is a believably affable adult (“Only Dave laughs at his Bible jokes”).

Rhuday-Perkovich just released her second novel, Two Naomis (co-written with Audrey Vernick), which has garnered two starred reviews as of this writing. Two Naomis is surely on your radar (perhaps you’ve fallen in love with it already!), but don’t miss Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich’s debut; Eighth Grade Superzero is an overlooked gem of a novel.

Reviewed by Sam Bloom