OUR LAKE: Tender in Text and Illustration

   

KOKILA PRESS, 2025

 OUR LAKE, written and illustrated by Angie Kang, is an invitation to witness a very special, transformational moment. A relationship and slice of time that transcends the event. Don't miss this seemingly simple experience. Reading the book, diving into its luminous illustrations and subtle text felt personal to me. 

The cover image reveals two boys, lit by a glorious sun and standing at the edge of something high, overlooking a shimmering lake. My anticipatory thought was that this might mirror JABARI JUMPS, the first of several JABARI titles, and my favorite among them. (I reviewed it HERE, and it's a terrific summer title to share with early stage swimmers!) I am among many who, though we love the water, are not exactly confident about diving in from high places. In Jabari's case, his father offers the confidence to launch, and I imagined that might be the case with this seemingly older brother. I was drawn to that relationship, one in which an older sibling is protective and encouraging. I was also drawn to the art, which called to mind another water/confidence picture book, I TALK LIKE A RIVER, reviewed HERE. 

The voice and art of this recent release echoed some favorite qualities from that earlier title. Narrative is direct, personal, minimal, but revealing. Deep emotion is suggested, but only in a gentle and approachable way. The illustrations are soft-edged and glowing, impressionistic and subdued in detail but rich in realism and connection to readers' own experiences. The use of color and light to convey the healing warmth of the sun and the soothing effects of water are nearly magical.

Obviously, all that appealed to me before I even opened the book.

Then I read the story and was convinced that I was reading a future-award-winning treasure. 

On the title page we see the older boy tying the shoes of the younger one. The first spread introduces the heart of this story: 

"Today Brother is taking me up to the lake to swim like Father used to."

The first several spreads swell the pages with mixed emotions of color: Skies and upper backgrounds radiate colorful joy and brilliance, while the foreground and base of the pages absorb that brightness into somber blues and shadows. Multiple spreads throughout the central pages reveal preparing for the lake adventure with rituals of stretching, toeing the edge of the height, and the older boy's plunge into refreshing wasters. The next spreads are similarly simple but heartfelt as the younger boy hesitates, recalls his absent father, makes his decision, and resolves in the sweetest way you can imagine. Actually, it might surprise you, but it will more than satisfy.

Like Jabari Jumps, this is a Father/Son/Confidence story. Like I TALK LIKE A RIVER, this is a story in which the father is not present and yet his presence in the mind and heart of his boy speaks clearly. Beyond these two comparisons, this is a story of loss and resolving loss through the power of shared memories, traditions, and support. In a recent post I reviewed NIGHT WALK, which echoed an experience of finding comfort in loss by sharing memories with others who also loved them. It, too, like these others, relied on direct and subtle text with illustrations that evoke real experiences with a slightly dreamy quality. 

I urge you to read and appreciate this book. It should be one to keep in mind for sharing with anyone (of any age) who loses a parent or parent-figure. Finding strength in relationships that remain will never erase or take the place of the lost loved one. A story like this can offer hope and reassurance that we are not alone, that hope and support are at hand. 

KOKILA PRESS, 2025, OUR LAKE, Interior

Fathers Day Reflections; Reposting a Review

 Today is Fathers' Day. If we're honest with ourselves, each day of our lives we are reflections of the roles our fathers played, for good or bad, whether we knew them or not, None of us would be here to write or read this unless we hade been fathered at some point in the process that led to eyes to this page. 

I've written celebrations of fathers, mine included, on past Fathers' Days (HERE, HERE, HERE). It was my great joy to have wonderful parents, including a dad who was devoted to being the best he could be. How he defined that responsibility was not always how I might have written the  part, but that's generally a good thing. Uppermost in my memory is the absolute certainty that he loved us unconditionally. As a kid, I focused on the "conditional" aspects of life, always clearly presented-- grades, curfews, fights with siblings, chores, etc. Through it all, the beauty of my childhood is that i really never needed to question whether or not any infraction could shatter that parental love. It was a foundation I wish for every life born into the world. 

With that said, today I was drawn to a book that I featured back in 2020. (Yep, even typing that year brings memories of pandemic era). Thankfully, libraries were some of the first institutions that found ways to get back into business. I read and wrote my way through those tough days, thanks to libraries. And publishers managed to keep releasing books, although the flow reduced for quite a while. Even so, one new title reached me that comes to mind over and over through the years since then. 

NEAL PORTER BOOKS, 2020

I TALK LIKE A RIVER is written by Jordan Scott and illustrated by Sydney Smith. My review of it at the time can be read HERE, if interested. In that review I focused on the remarkable qualities of the writing and the illustration that later garnered major awards. (This creative pair have since produced other titles that also win awards. Check them out.)

Today, Fathers' Day, this memorable picture book came to mind yet again. It's a book about a boy who struggles with stuttering, although that is never said explicitly. We know the boy struggles. That his internal view of himself reflects the reactions he reads from others as he tries to express his ideas and feelings. 

His struggles for fluency are illuminated, literally in the images (an al-time best cover, IMO) and lyrically ninth narrative. I found myself connected with his self-doubt and longing, though I never stuttered. (Those who grew up with me likely wished that i would be tongue-tied!).

What I felt throughout, and what is minimally but powerfully referenced within the brief text, is the power of his father's acceptance and advice. 

By guiding his son to a metaphor that invites identity with strength, power, change, and beauty, the father didn't simply help his son through a particular incident or life challenge. He offered an analogy, a tool, a source of strength  that could be accessed in the moment and in the future. He presented an alternative to the immediacy of pain and struggle, a light at the end of the tunnel, a way through the present and into the future, providing relief in the moment and promise of better times. 

I just finished reading two (excellent) adult novels in which fathers are portrayed with recognizable strength and abilities. The stories involved sports, business, communities, and many settings in which fatherly advice is passed to the next generation, including coaching. Today's various tributes to dads in social media, news shorts, and more will express thanks for love and support, mention dad jokes and golf or other sports, and otherwise celebrate the ways fathers have shaped our lives. Life lessons will be celebrated, from work habits to honesty to fairness. ALL are worthy of praise. 

When this book came to mind, and then lingered, I wondered what it was about this particular father that had reached out to me. Reflection brought me to this:

SMALL MOMENTS of FAITH

INSTILLING CONFIDENCE

I could be wrong, but I can't imagine many cards or memes or other quick-shot accolades to fathers will focus on those two aspects of powerful "father-ing". Perhaps I'm wrong, but I wanted to call it out here. I hope you will read the book I shared. It will do a better job than I have at making clear what I've tried to say. Whether your own "father" was biological or found (a step parent, a coach, a neighbor, or teacher), I hope you can reflect, too, and recognize small moments in which you felt seen in moments of weakness, and led to a sense of competence. When your capacity to deal with hard things was revealed to you and affrirmed by a trusted adult. When you recognized your own power. 

If so, and if you are lucky enough to still have that person in your lives, consider talking about that with them. I would if i could. 

A Celebration of Generations: My Baba's Garden

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!

CYBILS Fiction Picture Book Finalists- 2020!

 In case you missed it on New Year's Day (say it ain't so!) the 2020 Cybils Awards announced the finalists titles in all categories. Here's a link to my share of the news as Round One Panelist in the fiction picture book category.

I've read and appreciated every one of these, and each of the nearly two hundred other titles I read with an eye to narrowing so many amazing contenders to this limited list. I've always preferred working in Round One rather than the task, now, of naming only ONE of these as the eventual winner. That would certainly break my heart. I feel shattered as it is that we couldn't commend many more of the top tier titles to this finalist list. 

There were many that came within a whisper of being finalists, let me tell you!

I've written full posts about each of these (and more) in this blog, and others on my Goodreads reviews. So, to help you dig into the best of the best fiction picture books of 2020, here are some blurbs and links to full reviews:

YOU ARE EVERY GOOD THING, by Derrick Barnes and Gordon C. James:

"...a  brilliant anthem for Black males becomes an anthology of countless visual biographies. Specific and worthy and lovable lives are written in the eyes, encounters, and possibilities portrayed. Images like these provide a perfect integration of contemporary lives with the many centuries of inheritance that produced these individuals and their stories."

I TALK LIKE A RIVER, by Jordan Scott and Sydney Smith:

While this is a brilliant book about dealing with stuttering, "...This remarkable picture book allows all readers to recognize the "dysfluencies" in our own lives, not just in oral language. It holds out hope for adults and children to learn to center ourselves, to become one with the things that matter to us, to trust that the current of our lives will return us to calm, even on our own "bad speech days", whatever those may be."

IN A JAR, by Deborah Marcero:

In a year that has denied the making of new memories in many ways, this gentle story reminds us that the potential for making and sharing memories surrounds us. "There are countless wonderful things about this book, and meaningful ways in which it reveals nature and seasons and life cycles and longing. But mostly, it just might launch someone into making memories."

A CAMPING TRIP, by Jennifer K. Mann:

"With only a few moments of reflection, it is a celebration of Dad-Daughter love, of the power and joy of trusted people in our lives (especially extended family), and the expansive wonder of nature, (from massive redwoods to the tiniest banana slugs). It affirms every stage of recognizing and preparing to face challenges, including the bumps and bravos, and satisfactions of persisting."

THE PAPER KINGDOM, by Helena Ku Rhee and Pascal Campion:

This conveys "...the not uncommon reality of being night service workers with young children. In this case, they deal with a canceled childcare situation by turning a 'take your child to work night' into a series of fantasy adventures while they provide custodial care in the silence of the night."

WE ARE WATER PROTECTORS, by Carole Lindstrom and Michaela Goade:

"I am rarely speechless, but this book nearly achieves that for me. The incredibly symbolic and fluid and moving illustrations are masterpieces, page by page. The compelling narrative with repetitive patterns of challenge and commitment are timed perfectly for increasing impact. The reader pledge offered on the back page is a call to action, and the after notes about Ojibwe traditional water keepers elevate the entire work from amazing to holy."

DOZENS OF DOUGHNUTS, by Carrie Finison:

"Told in rhymed couplet's, LuAnn Bear's generosity and open-door policy is taxed when batch after batch of a dozen doughnuts is consumed by her hungry (and admiring) friends. When empty cupboards and an overwhelming mess are all she has to show for the day, LuAnn does what bears often do- she ROARS. "

I hope that you'll begin this new year with a quick read of each full review, followed by adding them to your library request list, wish list, or shopping cart. These are valuable additions to home, classroom, and library collections, and each will make a beloved gift to others. Choosing just one as the eventual CYBILS AWARD winner is an unenviable task.

If you read in any of the other categories (and I KNOW you do!) checkout the finalists by linking HERE to the CYBILS AWARDS  page and then scrolling down to click on the category of your choice, for all ages and interests. Each offers a treasury of excellence and appeal.

Please stay tuned for links and new reviews for many other outstanding titles that are not on this list, but winners nevertheless. As seriously joyful as we all are that year 2021 has arrived, we can expect many hours of stay-at-home reading in the months ahead. 

I TALK LIKE A RIVER: DO. NOT. MISS. THIS. PICTURE BOOK

 

NEAL PORTER BOOKS, 2020

Please, do three things for me before reading further:

Take time to really LOOK at this cover.       

                                         Seriously, just LOOK at THAT cover!

Recall a time, any time, when you experienced a river.

Take time to relive that experience with all five senses.

I TALK LIKE A RIVER is written by Jordan Scott and illustrated by Sydney Smith. If you took time to experience the cover as I asked above, you will engage with this book as fully as intended. If not, or if you somehow have never experienced a river, this book just might provide a vicarious experience that could change your life. 

Either way, PLEASE read this book.

The narrator's first person voice finds him awaking to a new day amid glorious, natural surroundings: pine trees, crows, and fading moonlight. The soft-edged images in these first pages and throughout this story shift from focused to fuzzy, from slices to boxes to wholistic images, but always returning to the boy's eyes, revealing his inner emotions and thoughts. 

Within a few page turns of the opening, readers hear and feel his daily struggle with fluency when simply voicing his inner, fluent thoughts. Certain sounds, like the p-p-p-pine, take root in his mouth, the c-c-c-crow chokes in the back of his throat, and the m-m-m-moon "dusts my lips with a magic that makes me only mumble".

It's clear from specific scenes portrayed that the boy faces each and every day fully aware of the "bad speech day" that may lurking around the corner. He (and the reader) remain cautious, alert, on guard for coming requirements to speak. As a reader, I felt my own shoulders and throat tighten in anticipation of what would actually presents itself.

Illustration shifts from crisp to blur eventually distort images of classmates and teacher staring, magnify his embarrassment about the facial distortions he feels and others see, of the ominous threat he perceives from being called on to speak. On this particular day, the task is to speak about his favorite place. I felt desperately empathetic to his sense that a classroom was the extreme opposite of his favorite place to be.

Interior double spread, opens to double-wide fold-out.

This boy's salvation is a father who not only rescues him from a "bad speech day", but also reconnects his troubled son with a source of strength and comfort. Together, they ride to the river, they walk and watch and wander, before sitting quietly at water's edge, in silence.The father voices an analogy for his son. Look at this struggling boy sitting with the glow and warmth of sun on his shoulders. Imagine his father's deep, calm voice at his side. 

"See that water? That's how you speak."

The  boy watches, hears, senses the urgency of movement- flowing smoothly, then choking, churning, tumbling. Always moving on, feeling the ways the current will carry the water forward, water will eventually achieve a smooth surface. 

I was tempted to include an image of the fold-out scene from above, but you really must see it for yourself. Feel it. Believe it. Know that within us is a force as powerful as the water, always seeking a place of calm and fluency. What happens next in this book is equally powerful, realistic, and comforting to the boy and to the reader.

Most of us take oral fluency for granted, in ourselves and in others. In reality, recent statistics indicate that those who deal with stuttering/stammering develop in preschool and early years including about 3% of childhood population (data from US population, which appears to be similar in global studies).There are too few picture books dealing with this common challenge, though some do exist (HERE). The ones I've read might prove helpful for dysfluent kids, for Speech/Language Pathologists, and even for classmates and teachers.

This particular book, though, offers something that extends far beyond the specific subject matter. Far beyond the deep and supportive  significant insight it provides through the eyes of a dysfluent speaker, even beyond the soothing power of connecting with nature and the strength of a loving and supportive parent. This remarkable picture book allows all readers to recognize the "dysfluencies" in our own lives, not just in oral language. It holds out hope for adults and children to learn to center ourselves, to become one with the things that matter to us, to trust that the current of our lives will return us to calm, even on our own "bad speech days", whatever those may be.

No anchors in time on this post. Those will resume periodically, but for now, feel the timelessness of this story from my review, and then read it for yourself. There are times in life when the focus on outside forces should simply be ignored.