I celebrate many picture books in these posts, and all are memorable in one or more ways. In this case, through a story born from childhood memories of a beloved grandma, pages of lyrical text and luminous images have imprinted themselves on my mind and heart. That's not only because this is an admirable example of the best in picture books, but it issues a stirring call to my own memories of times spent with grandparents.
NEAL PORTER BOOKS/Holilday House, 2023
MY BABA'S GARDEN is written by poet Jordan Scott and illustrated by Sydney Smith. Using gentle and kid-friendly narration by the young boy (representing the author as a child), Scott blends a child's view of an odd place with a loving grandma while employing rich free-verse language and metaphor:
"My Baba lived in a chicken coop beside a highway
behind a sulfur mill
shaped like an Egyptian pyramid,
bright yellow like a sun that never goes to sleep."
Smith portrays these opening scenes of dark-sky car trips and simplistic painted art such as a child would produce if asked to "paint a picture of a place you love."
The boy doesn't live with Baba, exactly, but she is central to his daily life. In predawn hours his father drives the boy to stay with her every day before leaving for work. Those early spreads shift seamlessly from primitive art to Smith's remarkable illustrations using atmospheric tones and light-infused figures amid mundane but marvelous details of a kitchen wreathed in love. Baba lived through perilous war years, when every scrap of food meant the difference between survival and starvation. Her residual habits are closely observed by the child: room after room filled with jars and bins, dried herbs and vegetables, frequent urging to eat more. Baba knows little English, but they understand each other through gestures, nods, selected words, and ever-present love.
Baba's garden is her security and sustenance, despite growing under meager conditions. Baba rescues worms in the rain, from rushing gutters, collecting them in dirt-filled glass jar to restore them to a place they can thrive-- her garden. Why, he wonders. Without words, tracing the creases in his palm, she explores the gifts, the powers worms have to aerate, to irrigate, to enrich the soil from which their lifeline foods are growing.
When Baba's small dwelling is replaced with a big building, she comes to live at the boy's home in the city. Her old garden becomes an overgrown jungle. He cares for her the way she did for him, serving her apple slices and cereal in a bowl you could swim in. Their only garden becomes a few small pots the boy sows with her sun-gold cherry tomato seeds, visible outside her window. Rain reminds Baba to tickle his palm. It's his turn to pace through the rain, eyes lowered to locate and collect worms for the pots.
The author's note before the story begins reveals that this account hews close to his own experiences. Even having read that first, the words and illustrations grace each spread as if reliving the author's experience in a dreamlike state. Smith's skill with backlighting is more than craft, although that is abundantly clear. He infuses each scene with a magical essence that transcends our own experiences and inserts readers into the emotional tones and connections of the characters.
I was an admirer of Sydney Smith's picture book illustration talent from his Caldecott and other awards and honors, some of which I've reviewed HERE, HERE, and HERE. It was in a more recent work of his that I lost my capacity to avoid naming favorites. I TALK LIKE A RIVER glows with comparable emotional depth and supportive connections in families. That title as well asl MY BABA'S GARDEN hold a high place one my all-time list of recommendations. Undoubtedly this creative pair brings out the best in each other. I hope this will not be the last of their shared talent gracing picture book pages.
If you missed it, check out my recent review of Marie Boyd's JUST A WORM to celebrate the remarkable gifts and power of WORMS!
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