THE RABBIT LISTENED: Could We?

Whatever joyful thoughts and inspirations this time of year calls to mind for you (Passover? Resurrection? Spring bulbs? Longer days of sunlight?) I'd imagine that rabbits play some role in those thoughts. New births abound, tiny nests of bunnies are uncovered when gardening, and pint-sized, transparent-eared little buns nibble at grass or dandelions. Right? 

Store shelves abound with chocolate rabbits while comic strips feature parents biting the ears off the chocolate bunnies in their kids' Easter baskets. [Side survey: when you receive a chocolate rabbit, do you bite the ears off first? Feel free to confess in the comments!]

What does all this have to do with picture books? Well, I found an Easter card picturing three chocolate bunnies on the cover, and the middle one with missing its ears. The inside text said that two out of three rabbits HEARD it would be a wonderful Easter. It's a funny card and I was pleased to find it. After I mailed it, though, my thoughts followed a "rabbit hole" about missing ears and not hearing and relying on habits rather than thinking or listening in the moment.

DIAL BOOKS, 2018

That led me back to a book that I featured some years ago about dealing with grief, THE RABBIT LISTENED, written and illustrated by Cori Doerrfeld.  As the cover indicates, this is a story of comforting, with a focus on the power of listening. 

When the child's play-project collapses, they view it as a tragedy. Various efforts to "make it better" are offered by caring others. Adults will recognize themselves in the words of advice, familiar phrases that fail to recognize what is really needed. 

Examples are things we too often say to others in our lives; 

You can make another.

At least you've learned something.

You have other toys to play with.

or even the dreaded...

This is not such a big deal.

I didn't put quotes around the above lines because I paraphrased, writing the gist of what the text stated. Characters were reverting to past practice and patterns without pausing to see what was really needed.

Each seemed to have lost their "emotional ears", making assumptions or rushing in to reduce tension and pain. At times, though, quite often actually, what is most needed is simply someone to sit with us while we fully experiencel our pain. 

The rabbit does that. No words. No verbal reassurances. Simply being there, as near and as accepting as possible. As I wrote in a prior post, "...this little book offers a universe of wisdom. It opens with utterly appealing scenes, introducing a character, Taylor, about whom we instantly care."

"After failed attempts, Rabbit arrives. As the title says, Rabbit Listened, recognizing and absorbing Taylor's raw emotions. Rabbit's only role is to be present. To offer comfort without expectation or exit. Only then can Taylor (who could be a boy or a girl) try out various reactions, move through stages of grief, and work through the pain of loss until it is resolved. As comforting as this book may prove to be for young audiences, it should be considered an advanced course in human outreach for those of us with the "fixer" impulse."

Those missing rabbit ears on a seasonal card had me reflecting on the degree to which our larger society seems to operating on assumptions and default reactions. Not only in politics, but in technology-anxiety, environmental concerns, and more. So often I hear familiar phrases and reactions in conversation from entirely different people in a wide array of ages and settings. All seem calm and caring, but that edge of repetition concerns me. Many times such talk elicits some nods or "hmm" and the topic shifts. Perhaps we'd all do better in many circumstances to reflect back before offering even "safe" reactions or thoughts. 

For myself, I'm hoping to reflect back and listen more. "Tell me more about what you think" or "Tell us why you say that" or ??? What I want is to make myself THINK, and LISTEN, and be open to how others feel. I'm more convinced than ever that some of the most deeply-held opinions are actually a reflection of deeply felt tensions or worries or fears. Perhaps if I allow others to share some of that, I could simply listen. Perhaps it might ease their sense of isolation or fear of being attacked. I don't have to agree or disagree, just let them feel heard. 

At least I can try. And I plan to do so.

That is my plan for a new beginning to this season of growth and renewal.

May your own seasons be filled with listening.

FANTASTIC (Flying) BOOKS: Consider the Following...

 I read book this earlier, closer to its release date over a decade ago.Then a friend gifted me a copy with an awareness that books are central to my life and they thought I should be sure to read it. That was a touching reminder to me that my friends and family all know how central to my life BOOKS are. Admittedly, I'm a tad (HA!) hyper-verbal, and I apologize for that regularly. Even so, I'll never apologize for celebrating books, especially books for youth. Too many of the changes in contemporary life and society push for our attention, and BOOKS deserve all the cheerleaders they can get. 

MOONBOT BOOKS
 Imprint of ATHENEUM BOOKS FYR, 2012

(SPOILER ALERT- I will share the full circle of this story. It is older and most know it.)

In the case of THE FANTASTIC FLYING BOOKS OF MORRIS LESSMORE, written by William Joyce, the character in the story lives an exciting series of events with books. The story is magical and action packed (yes, a story about a man reading is action- packed) and was an outgrowth of Academy Award-Winning animated short film. Joyce and Joe Bluhm share illustration credits for this lively, extra long picture book filled with truth and wonder. A single reading will suggest the heart of the story and a central theme of the film. This is a visual feast with dramatic tension and imaginative joy throughout, quietly flooded with heart. 

A twist on a  famous movie line captures my original response to the first spread text: It had me at ...

"Morris Lessmore loved words.

He loved stories.

He loved books."

And that's all it took for me to feel that Morris and I are kindred spirits. Morris is also a writer, though many of his attempts end in upsets. When Morris broke his habit of looking down, the sepia-tones spreads shift to colorful, literally uplifting images. The world of books, personified and speaking to him directly, intervenes in his frustrating, worried, internal world. Books introduce possibilities, curiosity, and excitement that lead to sharing books with others. "Everyone's story matters," he says. 

His life of reading, sharing, tending books, exploring words, and and writing his own story led, in a page turn, to his eventual aging. Those beloved books read themselves to him, care for him, comfort him. When he writes the last page of his own book, when he steps out of life and into the eternal world of stories, his own book remains behind. The books understand, waiting... 

...for the young girl who enters the world of books left behind by Morris. His book flies to her hands, filled with his story, his joys and upsets and fears and excitement. That's where her story begins... with the opening of a book. A legacy passes hand-to-hand, page-to-page, generation to generation. 

This lovely circle story is both surreal and anchored in truth. It is both heartwarming and poignant. The illustrations are beyond my tools of description, and evocative of an animated film, of course, with letters and words assembling and disassembling, swirling on and off pages, enticing and exciting. 

Viewing the short film may feel like a significantly different experience from reading the book. It is a visual, wordless exploration of broader themes. Among those are the revelation that an old book, any book, only offers a life when it is read, when readers partner with the symbols and images on the page to give life to the stories within the covers. The central stories (book and film) are the same, but the lives of the books, their NEED for connection with readers is much more palpable in the film. Both deserve attention, and carry compelling messages without being didactic.

Both the book and film suggest that a simple, single person, someone with a life of their own, will discover a universe of stories in words and books, in libraries, in sharing books with others. Tomorrow, April 1, begins National Library Month. This feels like a fabulous way to celebrate books and libraries with young readers. They'll recognize the richness, color, and connection that books bring into an otherwise dull life. I hope you'll check out both the book and film, and share some love with local libraries and librarians.

The books and I thank you!

Don't HIDEAWAY the Magic of Childhood Imagination!

 Far too many children in the world, at home and afar, are so occupied with survival that imagination must lie dormant. Others, also far too many, have outsourced their minds to screens. This picture book provides glorious casual insight into the magical space of early imagination could be just the right choice for those who DO indulge in self-generated world-building as well as for those who have abdicated the realm.

RED COMET PRESS. 2023

HIDEAWAY is written by Melania Longo and illustrated by Alesandro Sanna, with translation  by Brenda Porter. While I follow the latest releases, widely acclaimed or otherwise, I get especially excited when I encounter a picture book from prior years that missed my radar. That matters even more when it is from a smaller press and remains deeply relevant in the current moment.

Picture book production timelines are even greater when  foreign acquisition and translation play a role. Across the board, this book merited the time and effort involved. 

Knowing how lengthy the process is to take a picture book idea from origin to contract to full illustration and production, the 2023 release date indicates to me that some or most of this story emerged during the covid-lock-down years. At the very least, all creatives involved offer us a view through the gauze of a young imagination, or two. There's little we will miss about those years, other than beloved folks who were lost to the virus. One of the small things we can celebrate is the likelihood that more children rediscovered their imaginations during those imposed periods of isolation from intensely-scheduled lives.

This picture book feels like a capsule version of such a life, worth preserving and recovering.

The assertive narrator is fully self-possessed and also possessed of a vivid and expensive imagination. Her account of  the Hideaway of slender branches is revealed to readers in an authentic child voice that introduces her best adventurer friend (her brother with long legs that sometime disturb the structure but is worth the company). Nothing dramatic or explosive or heartbreaking occurs in this hideaway, unlike THE PERFECT SHELTER (reviewed HERE). I should clarify that nothing EXTERNAL of consequence happens. But this pair of adventurers find within the slender stems of their HIDEAWAY a world without walls. They travel with massive animals, play roles, recognize aspects of nature we too often ignore, and more. Across seasons, and in the course of a day, they exhaust the realms of their imaginations and instantly reboot with more to come. A bedtime return to the household is unavoidable, but the energy of imaginative spirits transforms their bedroom, too. Ultimately, even settling under covers suggests dreams filled with travel and discovery. 

The authentic voice of the narrator (kudos to both author and translator) is richly  enhanced by full spreads of fluid, visually-enticing elements, with colors and details that recapture attention at each rereading. Black line accents focus on the story line while shadows, white space figures, delicate swirls, and barely discernible lines suggest an ethereal quality in that borderland between nature and the surreal. 

Not enough can ever be said about the essential role of imagination in a child's life, but also in our collective futures. My current check says this title is on back order, so request it at your local library. If you enjoy it as much as I do, order one or more copies at your local indie-bookstore to gift to a child, school, or little free library. The invitation to imagination is worth sharing, and worth waiting for.

 

THE SWEATER: A Story of Community

Some of the books i feature here are astonishing in their depth or scope, in the magnificence (I'm not exaggerating) of their text or illustrations. Many titles in many ways reveal less that is "new" but much that is conveyed in moving and original ways. 

VIKING PRESS, 2026

Then there are some picture books that simply strike chords of familiar, important, heart-touching elements in ways that deserve attention. Books that will become huggable favorites. Books that will be saved to read again and again, and then on into adulthood to a next generation. The SWEATER: A Story of Community strikes me as that kind of book. Written by Larissa Theule and illustrated by Teagan White, there is actually very little that seems extraordinary in this reader-friendly book. 

The author's narrative is direct and simple, but carries the weight of understanding:

"... a little bird stumbled into the thicket. It was plain to see he'd been though some things."

The storytelling allows readers to sense concern, potentially even risk, without feeling undo threat to worry. The little bird's discovery of a vacant hole in a tree could easily be the wrap to his part of the story. But empathy and awareness of the coming winter and the challenges to even healthy lives in the face of Mother Nature  leads the central character, Holly the raccoon, to express concern for the little bird to the others in the woods. Yes, you can guess that decisions are made, domino effects unfold, scraps of offerings are knit into whole resources. That, my friends, is a metaphor for community. The glory of this simple account is in both its familiarity and in the freshness of word and images. 

Click on illustrator White (above) to see that more sophisticated version of any of these illustrations were well within her talents. But from the simple line drawings on end papers to the colorful, warm-toned interiors, each character appears both anthropomorphized and also natural. The challenges faced are concerning without being terrifying, helping readers invest in the safety of all, not just the small bird. Even when it is "hunkering down"  time in the midst of a storm, the text and images offer reassurance of safety while suggesting connection, even while isolated for a time. Some aspect of those spreads reminded me of our lives during covid lock-down. No  matter how separate we were, there was a nearly universal striving to find ways to express our connections to others.

This book will appeal to most (I'd like to say ALL, but not everyone might find it as utterly memorable and treasured as I do). But I hope you'll give it a look to see for yourselves. There is sincerity and charm without being cloying or cutesy. The two-dimensional, stylized critters reside in a detailed space that is also somewhat flat, yet remains natural and somewhat magical. It's that "story time" tone that made me lift the relationships and characters from their specifics to think of them as any and all communities 

I am a fan of any picture book that is able to take what we all know to be an important (and therefore familiar) concept and make it fresh and memorable. I praised the efforts of Marsha Diane Arnold's ONE SMALL THING, HERE. If you missed it originally, I invite you to click and read about it as well. These two "animal character" stories display combined support, representing the power for even small efforts to unite and strengthen every member of the community. They would make remarkable side-by side readings. Those are reflections and discussions I'd welcome as often as possible, especially among young audiences.