Oliver

I'm sure we all feel a little different sometimes. I know I was certainly a different child, in many of the same ways as Oliver, the hero of Birgitta Sif's picture book. I was a quiet kid who was happier playing in my imagination than with the kids down the block. I spent days making up elaborate stories and acting them out with my stuffed animals. There aren't a lot of books out there for children who are happy on their own. So it's refreshing for me to see Sif's titular character, as he is comfortably different.

The first two lines sum up this story beautifully. "Oliver felt a bit different. But it didn't matter. He lived in his own world, happy with his friends." Sif tells us about Oliver, about the games he plays and the way he makes his own little world. And he's happy there, mostly. Sometimes he feels a bit lonely but most of the time he's happy. One day he meets a little girl who is also happy on her own, and they end up playing together. It's a simple story but I was in love with this book from first read. And not just because I recognized myself in the character. I love the message. I love to see an introverted character in a picture book where the focus isn't on "fixing" the child.

Throughout the book we see Oliver go from perfectly happy to a bit discontented but he's not standing on the outside looking in like so many other books that feature quiet children. In most of the images, if you look carefully, there is a little girl who is also doing her own thing. That is Olivia. Yes Oliver and Olivia. They will meet by the end and start playing together. But even though the book ends with them as friends, I get the impression that they would also be okay playing on their own as well. But perhaps that's just me. Sif's prose is sparse but the mix between the words and the illustrations tells a very full story.

Sif's artwork is lovely. The mostly muted palette gives the book a nice warmth. In particular, Oliver is presented very warmly through color against some muted backgrounds, making him pop out to the reader in each photo. It's as if Sif used the color to show the boy's difference from the rest of the world. Similarly Olivia is always shown in red. Our eyes are drawn to the heros. Sif's presentation of people has a touch of eccentricity to it which is perfect for this book. Some of the illustrations are busy, leaving plenty for readers to discover on further readings. In fact in the images where Oliver is on his own most of the illustrations are sparse. In ones where he's surrounded by other people the images are busy, hectic even. In many cases Oliver (and Olivia) seem like little islands of calm in the very active, hectic world. I would assume that was intentional. Sif seems to have thought of everything in this beautiful book. This is a lovely story, both in art and in theme. It was a refreshing picture book for an introvert like me.

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

People who know I love children's books often ask me for recommendations. I love to tell them about the latest Peter Brown, Jon Klassen, or David Wiesner. There are some fantastic children's books being written right now and I want to spread the word about these modern masters. Eventually though, the conversation gets around to what was my favorite picture book as a child. And that's an easy one. I loved Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs by Judi and Ron Barrett with a passion. I read the heck out of that book. Even before I got back into reading children's books (gave myself permission), I owned a copy of Cloudy. It was the first children's masterpiece I ever read.

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs starts with a grandfather making pancakes for his grandchildren. That night he tells them the story of the tiny town of Chewandswallow. The town is just your average small town except for the weather. The only thing that falls from the sky is food. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are forecast the same way rain and snow are in our world. And the people of the town eat whatever the weather provides: pancakes, hamburgers, soup, and even "brussel sprouts and peanut butter with mayonnaise". Over time though, the weather starts to get worse. The food becomes larger and more extreme. It starts to cause damage to buildings and even injure people. So the townspeople are finally forced to build boats of giant sandwiches and abandon the town of Chewandswallow to settle across the sea. It's a wonderful little tale.

The first thing that drew me into the book originally were Ron Barrett's illustrations. As you look at the pea soup fog, storm of hamburgers, the giant pickle, or the pancake flattening the elementary school, you realize how incredibly effective simple ink lines can be in creating something realistic. The food looks good. All of it. And all it takes was the use of black ink hatched lines and a touch of color. Ron Barrett made that city, and its meals, come alive for me. The people have a lovely caricature quality to them but all the food looked real. As things get worse in the town, the illustrations become more and more elaborate. The situations are wacky but somehow the illustrations never look over the top. The palette is muted except for one very bright tomato soup tornado. The illustrations have an almost old-fashioned feel, but in just the right way. I remember marveling over each page, finding new details I'd missed before. Tiny moments of humor, all surrounding tasty food. I may even have drooled a little on it.

But over the years I've realized that while the pictures drew me in initially, it's the tone of the book that has kept me coming back. It wasn't until Sony Pictures made their terrible movie that I understood completely what I love so much about this book. It's the tone. Judi Barrett offers such an understated narrative for this strange and wacky book. The story is meant to be a tale told to grandchildren but it never sounds like a tall tale. It sounds like it could really happen the way the narrator tells it. It's almost like a documentary. The situation is stated as fact, even as the story gets more and more wild. "By the time they woke up in the morning, breakfast was coming down. After a brief show of orange juice, low clouds of sunny-side eggs moved in followed by pieces of toast." It almost sounds like a weather report. Sometimes it's the quiet stories that have the greatest impact. For me, growing up, this book sounded like it was real. And for a child who wanted to believe in magical places, it was just the invitation I needed to dream. The movie went for wacky, but what I loved was the understated tone of the book. So subtle, so quiet, so perfect.

I've loved a lot of picture books in my life. Some from when I was a child and some as an adult coming back to children's books. I'm constantly enchanted by new work. But so far, no book, not one, has taken the place of Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs in my heart. When people ask me what my favorite picture book is, I hand them this quiet little gem and wait for them to fall in love.

The Quiet Book

The first time I saw the cover for The Quiet Book I knew I had to own it. I skimmed through the book in the bookstore but didn't have the cash to buy it. It was a tense couple of days before I could get back to the store and pick up my own copy. I was worried they would be sold out. I'll freely admit that I judged this book by its cover. And it didn't let me down. If you don't own a copy of this quiet, gentle book, you need one.

There is no true plot to The Quiet Book, written by Deborah Underwood and illustrated by Renata Liwska. You'll note that their names don't show up on the front cover. Another example of quiet. In some ways the story follows a group of woodland creatures (focusing on bunny) from morning until night as they experience all the different types of quiet. Starting with "First one awake quiet" and ending with "Sound asleep quiet", this book touches on every inventive moment for quiet you can imagine. Each phrase is only a fragment but the words, combined with the illustrations, speak volumes. One of my favorites was "Pretending you're invisible quiet" as we see a little bear covering his eyes, as he stands next to the nurse who is getting ready to give the bear a shot. That is immediately followed by "Lollipop quiet" as we see the creatures who had to get shots sucking contentedly on a lollipop. The mix of words and images is perfect.

Liwska's illustrations are sweet, enduring, and beautiful in their own way. She uses pencil to create the characters, who have a bit of an unfinished quality, and then colors them digitally. This slightly rough look give her creatures their fur and feathers. I loved looking at the tiny lines that make up these charming scenes. Each character is imbued with tons of emotion. I felt so bad for moose at the beginning of the book, as we see her sitting on the stairs with the words "Last one to get picked up from school quiet". There are happy quiets and sad quiets and sweet quiets. But each quiet is captured beautifully.

Each page seems to have one side that is very simple, with lots of white backgrounds and few words. The other side is filled with images and a bit of a longer phrase. I'm not sure if it was intentional but I like the juxtaposition. One scene has a barber shop with a very sad little porcupine getting his hair cut off. The whole picture is filled with color and the phrase at the bottom is "First look at your new hairstyle quiet". This is opposite the same porcupine at home with his mother's concern at the haircut. But the words at the bottom are "Sleeping sister quiet". I could just imagine the hushed comforting. Such a tender scene. In fact all the pages are tender and sweet and gentle and quiet. A beautiful book. So wonderful. For me it was a must have.

Anatole

Almost 50 years before Pixar introduced us to a tiny mouse who wanted to cook in Ratatouille, Eve Titus introduced the world to another culinary mouse named Anatole. Anatole, like his animated cousin lives in Paris and becomes unhappy with the idea of stealing food. The stories are similar which is not surprising. Eve Titus’ story of a mouse who wants to give back has stood the test of time and has just returned to print for its fiftieth anniversary edition.

The story starts with Anatole heading out for his nightly rounds of food stealing with his friend. The two go out every evening together to the take food from the houses of the people. One night Anatole overhears people talking about how terrible it the stealing is. He decides that he doesn’t want to steal food ever again. So the next night, Anatole leaves his friend behind and instead sneaks to a cheese factory in the city. He samples each of the cheeses and then heads home with an idea. He writes up little cards and then returns to the factory that night. He samples the cheeses and offers suggestions for how to improve them. The factory take his suggestions seriously and suddenly their sales start going up rapidly. The factory owner tries hard to meet Anatole to thank him for the new success. When Anatole refuses to meet them he gives the mouse a job as official taster with the perk of getting to bring home as much cheese as he wants. And Anatole never has to steal cheese again.

The story is such a quiet endearing little tale that I’m not surprised that it has stood the test of time. The character of Anatole, with his little beret and bicycle, is charming and grown-up in a way that is unusual as a children’s story. It seems such a grown-up story and theme. Titus is clearly not talking down to her audience. She uses language that is more adult than what we often see in children’s books. One of my favorite exchanges between Anatole and his friend Gaston illustrates this well. “It is horrible to feel scorned and unwanted! Where is my self-respect? My pride? My honor?” Gaston shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Resign yourself, Anatole. Cest la vie!” Using this more advanced language, Titus creates characters that are intelligent and likable. Paul Galdrone, the illustrator, creates wonderful scenes really bringing the little mouse and his Paris to life. The illustrations are mix of black and white drawings, watercolor images, and full paint washes. The colors are deep and subdued (often blues) making this story sweet and quiet. In fact, this had to be one of the most quiet, thoughtful, and intelligent children’s stories I’ve read in a long time.