Tag Archives: thoughts

It just so happened that out of the three books I read in the past two days, two of them are with very strikingly designed covers using Getty Images. I have yet to make up my mind as to whether Leap of Faith conveys all the turmoil Abby experiences in her 6th grade year and whether the wire-art skeleton is not a poor substitute of Fats (the carefully and elaborately – and probably messily labeled – skeleton). As cover goes, both are eye-catching, for sure. Did anyone read these and can comment on whether they effectively and artistically reflect the tone/content of each title? (And don’t we have enough headless torsos in teen novel covers by now?)

So, I’ve noticed that more and more children’s/YA book covers use photographs from the online image collection Getty Images. Although it is not “wrong” and I should not feel judgmental about it — I feel “cheated” whenever I see that copyright note at the back jacket flap, stating that the image is not created specifically for or inspired especially by the text of the book.

I DO judge books by their covers, since I am a physical/materialistic book lover and care deeply about every creative aspect of the book, as an object of art. And I must admit that even though so many of these covers look quite pretty and pristine and attractive, they lack a depth, or “soul,” that speaks to me as a reader — especially AFTER reading the stories contained within. One recent example is the cover for Miss Spitfire: a blurry child’s hand holding a green apple… WHY an Apple? I guess Apple is a “teachery” symbol — but apple has little connection to Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan’s emotional journey… the DOLL (Helen’s first word) or the PUMP/WATER (Helen’s final breakthrough objects) would have served so much better, or a powerful scene with the two main characters having one of their many conflicts — and artwork INSPIRED by the story would have been so much more affective than Found Photos.

What gives? Pricing alone? Lack of hired talent? Anyone can shed some light on this?

It’s Sunday morning. Lily is reading Naylor’s The Girls Get Even, the follow-up title to The Boys Start the War. She stopped reading for a minute to share with me this observation, “Mom, it’s like you can see inside Caroline’s head and inside Wally’s head. But they can only guess at other characters’ thoughts. So Caroline and Wally are like the main characters.” I was tempted to explain the third person limited omniscient point of view and then move on to how even if they are the “narrative minds,” they are not necessarily the main characters. (Although often they would be.) Then I stopped myself. She has turned back to the story. Let her read. The literary vocabulary can come later.

What gave me the tingles of delight was the fact that she noticed the narrative voices and device all by herself. I wonder if it makes her happy to make this one discovery…

There seems to be a general perception that readers are non-materialistic and care more about the intellectual and the spiritual world, since we tend to be lost in stories and thoughts once the words start playing in our heads. But, it is not so, at least not for this reader. I am a lover of BOOKS — the entire physicality of these beautiful objects. When done right, or done brilliantly, all of these elements please me: the colors and designs of the covers, the thickness (or thinness) of the volumes, the various trim sizes, the choices of paper (glossy or pseudo-antique, smooth or coarse,) the smell of the new ink, the interior designs: the balanced amount of white space, the size and style of the font, decorative drawings, illustrations, and any other design elements.

I am confessing here: I have sinned! I am a materialistic and physical book lover.

My daughter commented at dinner the other night after I enthusiastically devoured a superb Pulled Pork Sandwich, that, “Because you like pulled-pork so much, you’re NEVER going to say that it’s not good!” I looked at her, thinking, yup, she’s probably right. Since I love love love this particular food, it’s more likely that I would enjoy it as a meal option than some other choices (such as pickled herrings over a green salad.) However, thinking further, I replied, “Hmmm, just because I love pulled pork doesn’t mean that I can’t tell a good pulled pork from a badly done one, or from an excellent one. In fact, because I AM a pulled pork expert (consuming, not making) I probably am more sensitive to tiny differences in quality from one pulled pork to the next.”

Then we went on and talked about my taste and ability to tell a good fantasy novel from a poorly constructed one. And, how, reading is like eating: to a more practiced and sensitive palate, small alterations in ingredients and textures could make a huge difference in my level of enjoyment. Spaghetti must be cooked al dente in my household — slightly firmer or one degree limper both result in less enjoyment. That’s why we guard the pot and test the noodle and quickly drain the water and serve when it’s “just right.” I know, it’s a curse! But, a bliss as well, when everything is “just right” or when something exceeds expectation. Like the superb pulled pork from a grocery delivery service: all prepared and ready to serve (after a couple of minutes in the microwave!)

So, this is my pulled pork theory: just because I like a particular kind of books doesn’t make me blind to the differences in quality from one offering to the next (the opposite probably applies.) And, it is important, for my professional life, to widely sample different kinds of writings and styles, all sorts of genres and formulas, so when it comes to discerning the poorly done, the mundane, and the divine, I can make well-informed and balanced judgments.

So. Some of you might know that this year (and next and who knows…) I have been reading as a Member of the ALSC Notable Children’s Books Committee, along with ten other VERY diligent and VERY intelligent and extremely knowledgeable and generous members!

So, the question I have been asked most is: How could you possibly read these many books? (Yup, we’ve each received already around 1000 titles and that’s just the first half of the year’s submission.) The short and quick answer is, “I can’t!” So, I read as much as my slow pace allows, and then rely heavily on other members who read faster and have better radars to best books for recommendations. Without them, and without the current responsibility, I wouldn’t have read the excellent survival story/mystery Leepike Ridge or what I am currently reading and definitely enjoying, Does My Head Look Big In This?

I am totally enjoying this experience, although of course, overwhelmed, as well. More to report another day.

Reading, that is. I have been reading nonstop due to my responsibility on ALSC’s Notable Children’s Books Committee. Although so many books so far have been disappointing or just bleh, my passion for reading has only increased. So, this reading thing must be an addiction: I am constantly looking for the next book that will grab me, get me lost in a different and dexterously constructed world (and it doesn’t even have to be a fantasy land or a futuristic one) and keep me in a dizzying haze when daily routines seem less real than the characters or relationships in a story. How else could I categorize this constant search for the next Big Experience?

This desire is so strong, it’s often physical!

I’ve been teaching an online graduate course on fairy tales as children’s literature these past few weeks. Recently, we debated heatedly about picture book fakelores and whether they should remain on library shelves and classrooms. Some of my students were puzzled by my passionate stance, believing that as long as the books are in high quality, with good stories and great illustrations, created by well-intentioned and reputable authors/illustrators, what’s the big deal if they might be misleading. One student stated that if she was to choose between a beautifully made story, with some misrepresentation of the culture, but entertaining to the young readers, and a boring but accurate book, she would definitely choose the former. I completely understand how she feels. But, a big question remains:

Why would we even need to “choose”? Why couldn’t we demand that books created for children and purchased by libraries and schools always be both accurate and entertaining? Why would anyone want to just settle for the lesser evil?

(I’ve been called the mean step-sister by a student already, so I imagine that I’m probably an evil step-mother now that I want these teachers and librarians to never settle for second best and always demand the best for our kids and for ourselves.)

I have now decided that — my simple reading log is no longer a “simple” journal recording specifically books and what I think about them. So, I guess, once in a while, someone visiting this blog might stumble upon my musings ABOUT reading and the general field of children’s literature. I hope no one objects.