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. 

ANGELA'S GLACIER: Don't Miss This!

Does the name of author Jordan Scott call to mind his prior picture book titles, or at least catch your ear and remind you that this is someone who makes brilliant and heart-rich stories? If not, please make it a point to remember the name now and develop that response. After his debut picture book, I TALK LIKE THE RIVER, illustrated by Sydney Smith, I have been in awe. You can check my review of that original piece HERE. You'll  see that my caption for that post said the same as this one- DO. NOT. MISS. -- his book(s). When a title captures my unconditional respect, I'll admit a quiver of concern that subsequent works might disappoint. In fact, this talented duo then produced another unforgettable picture book, MY BABA'S GARDEN,  just a few years later. It, too, evokes many layers of love, memory, and resonance while fully immersing readers in the immediate experiences depicted. 

NEAL PORTER BOOKS, 2024

What strikes me about both of these gorgeous and eloquent stories is how specific yet universal they are, presenting characters and situations that may be distant from individual readers yet provide seemingly lived connections to the events and emotions within the literal stories.

The lyrical narrative of ANGELA'S GLACIER, is written by Jordan Scott but, in this case, illustrated by Diana Sudyka. This story, too, depicts an  isolated experience, and also involves a massive geographic/geologic land mass. In Iceland. With an unfamiliar language playing a critical role in the storytelling. Add this: the premise is unusual, to say the least. Any one of these could have doomed it to limited audiences or weak interests.

And yet, my reading left me feeling that I lived this story with Angela from the first word and gorgeous spread to the last. I'm certain many readers (of many ages) will finish their first reads with a deep longing to walk in Angela's footsteps and follow her example. Picture books rarely succeed at stories that span long periods of time, unless they involve a chronologic biography, but this one does. It was also useful that the page facing the title page provided a reader-friendly translation and practice text for the name of the mountain: SNAEFELLSJOKULL:  Snow Mountain's Glacier.

Once that four syllable word becomes familiar, the narrative opens at the foggy/shadowy base of the massive mountain. A new father warmly wraps and embraces his newborn daughter, Angela,  lifting her to see and sense the heart of the distant mountain just as the fog lifts. Page by page, year by year, father and daughter travel across the lava fields, lichen beds, among the snow foxes, to the blue heart of the glacier. As Angela grows, she walks alone onto glacier, repeating her father's rhythmic chanting, each syllable matching each stride, taking her closer to a place of secrets and wonder. She presses her hands, her cheek, her heart against the ice of the glacier, feeling and hearing the life within it-- rushing rivers, cracking shifts, and melting tunnels "breathing" its story to her. When the cold sends her home, she resumes daily life--  school, violin, friends, and soccer, carrying the glacier's story in her own heart. With age and added time demands, Angela feels a loss in her heart, one that can only be filled by spending time with the glacier. Again, she connects and confirms her love, making a promise-- "I will listen, I will listen, I will listen."

In the author note Scott reveals, as with earlier works, his capacity to draw on personal experiences to inspire this account. In this case, it was his meeting with the real-life Angela in Canada. Angela began listening to nature as a child, and she offers an extended essay in back pages to recount her adult trip to this Icelandic location, describing the physical and emotional connection she has with Iceland's SNAEFELLSJOKULL in more detail. Based on current climate patterns, this particular glacier may survive only a fee more decades, likely less than than two decades.Given that tragic reality, this story is an even more valuable gift to readers, and to the glacier itself.

Perhaps the connection readers will experience when reading such a very specific story, so distant from their own lives, comes from a more familiar experience. Many of us have our own particular nature-place, one that speaks to us, in the moment and in memory. This book is both a call to vicarious caring and a link to whatever our own lived experiences in nature may have provided through a similar sense of belonging and validation. At the risk of repeating myself, DO NOT MISS IT!

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!

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.