Boyd Books

I bought this book when my daughter had just turned two and we lived in San Francisco. We had gone to the annual fair in Chinatown in San francisco and found it to be less than expected. The street that had traditional Chinese activities on it was fun, but the rest was very boring. On our way home we bought this book and it's been well loved ever since. She's five now and she still loves to look at the pictures and have it read to her. The story is well told, and I can't imagine this book without the illustrations that accompany it.

This lovely book begins the story of a mother grizzly and two cubs as they emerge from hibernation in Yellowstone National Park. The narrative is beautifully written, almost haunting - "In the stillness of a wild and barren mountain ridge, the snow lies deep. A full moon casts thin, sharp shadows of spruce trees, black on white like a zebra's hide. At the base of one of the old, fallen spruce trees, a great mound of snow begins to shudder." The illustrations include panoramic views of Yellowstone in the springtime. A great addition to any child's library.

I'm a writer, was looking at this book for research....found it a curious mix of fact, movie lore, and psychology/psychiatry. It's not an in depth analysis on any one kind of mental illnes, but think anyone interested in these topics would find the book readable, interesting, and thought provoking.

The other day I was idly flipping through the books in my possession, searching for one contained poems. A well-written book of poems by a single author that also happens to be pleasing to the eye is a rare and wonderful thing. Emphasis on the word "rare". And "Moving Day", to be honest with you, didn't get my attention right off the bat. The cover is rather lovely but I credit illustrator Jennifer Emery for penciling in the autumn leaves that finally lured me closer. Written in a series of small autobiographical poems, author Ralph Fletcher tells the simple story of a twelve-year-old boy whose family is moving from one state to another and the problems that come with something so seemingly simple.

The new mountain bike probably should have tipped Fletch off right from the start. Ditto the fact that his little brother Ray got a hockey outfit out of the clear blue sky. Their family is going to move near to Lake Erie and there isn't a darned thing Fletch can do about it. It's rough. First his friends start separating from him before he's even moved away. Then there's the fact that he'll never see that cute girl, Gwen with the dark sparkly eyes, ever again. Slowly, however, good things happen as well. While packing he finds his Willie Mays baseball card he lost a while ago. He will never (perhaps) carry the unfortunate nickname of "Retch" instead of "Fletch". And when at last he finds himself in a new home with a new room, there are new people about, a doorknob that lights up like a diamond when the sun hits it in the morning, and leaves that swirl, old and new, together.

The writing itself is more than a little clever. For example, Fletch's little brother Ray is always worrying about seemingly minor things. He wants it perfectly clear that his mother is not allowed to throw any people away. And when he asks his dad at the dinner table if the moon will stay in Massachusetts his dad says without hesitation that the moon is coming with them to Ohio. On hearing this, Fletch says, "Just the kind of thing to make you feel better, if you're a little kid". You get the definite feeling from this that the little kid he's referring to may not necessarily mean Ray. There are thirty-four poems in total here and together their story is one of ups and downs of an everyday nature. Sometimes I wondered whether or not certain sections were taken directly from Mr. Fletcher's own life. Did a mover "not much bigger than me" really come into the kitchen and carry out a refrigerator on his back while quoting Archimedes' great line, "Give me a place to stand and I will move the Earth!"? Did his friend Kyle really give him a going away present of a shoebox filled with ball bearings alongside his friend Alex's gift of "decapitated piñatas"? I don't suppose it matters, since they work so well within the story. I just wanted to know.

Then there are the illustrations to take into account. Ms. Jennifer Emery has taken the good design choice of rendering all the poems in easy-to-read black on white. There is nothing worse in this world than a children's book of poems hidden in a field of too much ribald off-setting color. Then, for each of these selections, there is a single picture that illustrates what is either being said or thought. These pictures are just quick snatches of images. They look almost as if someone had taken a page and then erased a large swath of it, revealing the hidden illustration behind (if that makes any sense). Each one is a different watercolor color, with the figures drawn in graphite. The effect is startlingly effective. In the poem "Boxes" for example, Fletch reminisces about Gwen, the girl at school. Mostly he concentrates on her eyes. In response to this, Ms. Emery shows just a small section of Gwen's face. All of it is gone, save the lightest sprinkling of freckles on her nose and, of course, those eyes Fletch can't stop thinking about. Well played, Ms. Emery. Well played indeed.

The age level on this book is interesting. The hero is twelve-years-old and a little interested in girls. Yet a quick glance at the book and you see that it seems geared for younger kids. An eight-year-old, perhaps, would be better suited to its simple words, pictures, and story. These days publishers are quick to thrust 700 page fantasy tomes at their twelve-year-old readers, totally disregarding those that are either reluctant or not fully prepared to swallow "Lord of the Rings" in a single sitting. I foresee, "Moving Day", having a lot of popularity with kids who read at a lower level, but don't want to be caught reading "baby books" or anything with a protagonist younger than themselves.

A quick confession. I wasn't until I reread the bookflap a second or third time that I noticed that this was an autobiographical book. Honestly, I just thought it a weird coincidence that Ralph Fletcher would write about a kid named Fletch. Oy. Much with the thickness of the head, have I. In my defense, aside from the name of the kid there's not much to tip the reader off to the story's personal nature. Neither Fletcher's words nor Emery's pictures date the tale in any way. I mean, Emery doesn't load the book up with iPods and images of kids reading manga either. Together, author and artist have just managed to carve out a small timeless little niche for themselves. Something that won't date in a year and a half or so.

By the way, the cover of this book has me a little baffled. Here you can see Fletcher sitting in the back of the truck looking vaguely hopeful about everything. And next to him is a box that reads, quite clearly, "library books". If these people are moving from Massachusetts to Ohio then what the heck are they doing high-tailing it out of the state with a box of library books in their truck? Labeled at that, the clever things. Librarians of Massachusates, beware.

In some ways, the book of poems that "Moving Day" reminded me the most of (in terms of storytelling, characters, and the quality of the illustrations) was "Speak To Me (And I Will Listen Between the Lines)" by Karen English. The two would actually work well together, should you wish to pair one small book of poems of 39 pages with one of almost equal length (32 pages). The great thing about "Moving Day", though, is that this isn't one of those mindlessly slap-happy cheerleading books about how everything involved with moving is GREAT! This book respects kids enough to show them some of the problems, and the benefits, of going somewhere new. Add in the great pictures and the clever writing and you've got yourself a keeper. So here's a note to all you children's librarians out there. If a parent comes up to you and demands all your picture books on moving, make sure this puppy sits on the top of your pile. A keeper, to say the least.

The rich Reginald Basset faces daily routines of financial accounting and purchases - but despite his wealth, he feels something missing in his life. He notes children playing seem to be having a better time then he - and he begins to understand there's more to life than money. Mr. Basset Plays is an involving, fine written, and very highly recommended story.

Synopsis:

Just across the Channel lies a different world, the north coast of France, celebrated by generations of painters and writers, from Eugene Boudin to Marcel Proust. It is a world of picturesque fishing ports like Treboul, of genteel resorts like Cabourg, which Proust called Balbec, and where he fell in love with Albertine and of old-fashioned sea-side towns like Saint-Marc-sur-Mer, the setting for Jacques Tati's "Monsieur Hulot's Holiday".

Glynn Boyd Harte evokes this lost domain. Setting off from Wimereux, he journeys unsystematically westwards, painting madly-turreted villas, pre-war garages, their walls plastered with old advertisements, cafes with their red-checked gingham table-cloths, sea-side stalls, with rubber tyres and buckets and spades, and fishmongers' slabs covered with oysters, mussels and langoustines. He stays in elegantly faded hotels with bizarre wallpapers. The book finishes in an end-of-season sadness as the last visitors depart, the hotels are closed and shuttered and the long autumn shadows creep across the empty sands.

Glynn Boyd Harte's previous books include "A Weekend in Dieppe", "Metro-land" and "Venice".

Insightful. Up to date research. Very readable. If you are looking to expand your knowledge of multicultural competency and literacy, this is a good resource.

Libro indispensable para aquellos que quieran por vez primera hacerse una idea sobre las corrientes en vigencia de investigación musicológica de los últimos 15 años sobre la música en España durante el siglo XVIII.

"My Box of Color" is a wonderfully educational book! Using a childlike "what if...??" view of the world, the author takes commonplace items and puts them under the "toddler microscope", so to speak. If flowers were the same color as grass, for example, would bees still be interested in them?? If we change the color of this friendly cat, would it still be so friendly?? If a boat was the same color as the water, would it still float?? AND, most importantly, if I were a different color, would you still like me??

The beautiful, Eric Carle-like cut paper illustrations are worth the price of the book itself, but it's the message and fun in the book that will make it a treasure worth reading again and again. WHAT IF we could change colors of ordinary, common things?? What if the mailbox was Pleasing Purple instead of Boring Blue?? What if we could change the sky to bubble gum pink?? What if, what if, what if...??

This line of thinking will appeal to young children, especially those who, in their own artwork, find themselves entertaining Dr. Seussian fantasy lands of orange oceans, green skys and purple-haired people. The chance to identify colors and shapes and objects will appeal to caregivers and readers who want to introduce or evaluate color identification in young children. BUT, most of all, the last two pages where the author asks about "my" color--"what if I wasn't the color I was meant to be/would you still be my friend? Would you still like me?"-- are the most important ideas we can give to our children.

I don't know if anyone read Paradis' first book, My Daddy, but it was good. This is better. Like last time, she keeps her words sparse but meaningful and her illustrations...well, they make the book. Beautiful! I like the way she explores the classic mother-daughter relationship while providing parallel imagery of mothers and daughters in the animal kingdom. Every picture deserves some quality time.

Don't forget to look for the heron that appears in every picture!