Animals, Empathy, Curiosity

 Boys are weird, right? Girls are, too, you say? I'd agree with both, if we can all agree to remove the denigrating label of "weird" and insert "interesting individuals". 

Sounds easy, but it is actually one of the hardest things any of us, at any age, can try to do. I'm going to reference a Walt Whitman quote here, with a note at the end of this post about why it was top of mind. The quote:

BE CURIOUS, NOT JUDGMENTAL.

I'm generally a fan of Whitman's wisdom, but this particular thought/line stands out as a perfect fit for the two picture books featured in this post.

KANE MILLER EDC PUBLISHING, 2021

Let's begin with LEO AND THE OCTOPUS, written by Isabelle Marinov and illustrated by Chris Nixon. Readers quickly learn that Leo is a neuro-diverse boy who finds bright colors, noises, and much of a child's world to be too much. He declares on an early page, "I must be living on the wrong planet." Other kids didn't understand him, and he didn't understand them. 

The public aquarium offers a respite and a potential friend. Colors and sounds are muted. If you've ever been to a public aquarium you'll slide right into Leo's experience: water and creatures move at a slower pace, voices are muted, and water plants offer gentle motion while staying anchored in their places. 

The octopus keeper is not judgmental, he is observant and curious, recognizing those same traits in Leo. With keeper's encouragement and acceptance, Leo launches a personal mission to learn all he can about Octopuses, sharing those facts via a notebook on several spreads. Impressed, the keeper invites  Leo to interact with Maya the octopus, providing ever more challenging puzzles. All of which Maya solves, abby the way.

One afternoon Leo notes that a particularly large, noisy crowd is stressing out Maya. (Read this wonderful book to discover how he knew that.) His empathy and concern allow Leo to solve his own puzzle, figuring out how he might support and protect his new friend. Leo's experience with Maya (being curious, non judgmental, and learning more) allow him to apply those strategies with an actual human, one who appears curious, too.

It seems that books (and films) revealing the astonishing complexity, intelligence, and emotional capacity of octopuses are having a moment. This story and others lead me to root for that trend and hope it expands and sustains. This story has so much going for it in fostering empathy and awareness of neurodivergent children, but it is much more than that. Even with the neon orange color accents, the tone and pace of the text and the images create a subdued, supportive, and engaging structure for readers of all kinds to dive right in to the story, and into the discussions it could spark. 

In one line Leo says he feels like an alien in the world surrounding him. If you've never met a kid who has felt that way, you've never met a kid, period. Finding and sharing this book could provide those kids with the experience Leo has when he meets Maya the octopus- perhaps there ARE other "aliens" to keep him from feeling alone.

GREYSTONE KIDS, September, 2021

That first picture book is firmly anchored in realistic circumstances and science, even though fiction. The facts Leo shares are true, and the situations are highly possible. Compare that to September release, MY DOG BANANA, written by Roxane Brouillard and illustrated by Giulia Sagramola. What's so curious about this book? Kids love dogs. They walk dogs. They name dogs unique (not weird) names. Books are written and illustrated about such situations.

Even so, I venture to say none of those books would be quite like this one. With minimal text, and very simple, cartoon-like  illustrations, a boy walks his dog, BANANA, on a leash. The curiosity occurs when others notice that the dog appears to be an actual banana.That's when bypasses challenge the simple statement that this is a dog, Banana. Questions aren't asked. Instead, challenges are mounted, detail by detail, while the boy maintains that she is a tired, well-trained, very speedy dog. 

When the challenges turn to mocking taunts and laughter, the boy walks Banana away, with a surprise ending, leaving behind a very puzzled and, hopefully, curious crowd. Perhaps if they had been less judgmental to begin with they could have had some of their questions answered!

At the risk of going far off the picture book rails, I'll mention that I have become a major fan of the streaming series, TED LASSO. Before you click out to catch a clip, be aware:  The F-word and other explicit language and adult references-ratio-to-minutes-of-play is really HIGH. Despite that,  other than for the youngest, I consider it a wholesome and big-hearted series in which jewels of wisdom are scattered like peanut shells on a bar floor. Humanity and decency is celebrated among the wacky situations, witty laughs, and dialogue so fast-paced and dialect-laden that I've rewatched episodes and still find things that I missed on earlier pass(es).

I mention that because the Whitman quote rose to mind with these books due to a particular Ted Lasso episode. The scene that allowed to reference this quote within the post can be found on YouTube (in an  abbreviated 4-minute form, but with a few choice words intact- be warned). It is called DART GAME. Ted Lasso and other scenes like these may not be the best way to approach the concept of reserving judgment and being curious for our youngest audiences, but these two new picture books could be. Give them a close look. When kids encounter someone who is "interesting in unusual ways", wouldn't it be great if their go-to reaction was to be curious and engaging rather than challenging and labeling? 

I'm firmly in Walt Whitman's (and Ted Lasso's) camp on this one.

LOVE from Alfie McPoonst, The Best Dog Ever.

I'm giving this post an anchor in time:  

Ending first full week of official COVID 19 sequester. Daily news briefs make for an odd mix of confusion and specificity. I seek sources to validate that we are all part of a single humanity on a precious blue planet, We are more alike than our differences. Our happiness and grief are universal experiences. May we never forget that. While various expert (and decidedly NON-expert) voices debate a potential death rate from the COVID-19 pandemic, life also proceeds, and ends, in its normal course.

In the past several days I've had friends sadly part with elderly parents and beloved pets. I'm not equating those two experiences, nor comparing those painful-though-predictable deaths to corona virus suffering or the death-defying struggles of healthcare professionals. 

All engage us in varying degrees of suffering, loss, and grief. 

Kane Miller 2020

For this fraught time I offer a gentle and warm-hearted new picture book. The premise is that a departed, beloved pooch delivers consoling letters to his loving young person, easing them through wrenching grief to eventually arrive at acceptance. 

LOVE FROM ALFIE McPOONST, The Best Dog Ever is written by Dawn McNiff and illustrated by Patricia Metola.

The text is delivered through charmingly lighthearted and tender notes from the beloved-but-deceased dog, Alfie McPoonst. 

Not everyone is a "pet" person, but many of us are. We know all to well that deep angst when the time has come for a pet's loyal devotion to be released, for a long, well-lived life to end in good-bye. Adults comprehend the comparatively short lives of pets and anticipate that ending. Many young children have never breathed a day wtihout that pet-partner in their lives, at their sides. 

There is a lovely bi-level expectation within this story and book design. Adults will recognize the parents' effort to console a heartbroken and lonely child, delivering letters addressed as only a dog would:

TO IZZY

THE DOG BED

THE FAMILY ROOM

IZZY'S HOUSE

NEAR THE LITTLE PARK

Young audiences will cling to this possibility, to this reassurance that Alfie has managed to reconnect and reassure, to comfort and encourage from his new life as a Sky Dog. The return address is equally appealing, and Alfie's first message clarifies what readers of any age already realize:

Dear Izzy,

I'm a Sky Dog now.

I live in Dog Heaven,

because I died.

Letters arrive filled with smile-inducing descriptions of a new life of fun, treats, and discoveries. Illustrations and page turns reveal the passage of time through clothing changes, seasonal progressions, and stages of grieving and adjusting. The more time passes and the more Alfie revels in his doggy delights, the more we witness a family finding comfort in shared memories and growing love. 

The conclusion is both reassuring and promising, delivered with a childlike voice and charm to match Alfie's tone. It is a satisfying journey to peace of mind through text and concept.

It is in the illustrations, though, that the journey introduces, deepens, and ends its emotional arc. With swaths of color and  fine intentional lines, as real and raw as the ache of loss, Metola welcomes a universal audience to the experiences shared on the page. Little Izzy and parents are distinctly white, but are displaying relationships that transcend race and ethnicity in recognizable ways. 

The opening endpapers depict the moments of first goodbye to Alfie, with the family gathered, backs to the reader, near a small marker in the meadow: "ALFIE". From then on  every image is a balance of small meaningful details and washed, subtle progress. Humans and Sky Dogs appears in relation to each other, evolving into new patterns and paths.The concluding endpapers mirror the opening scene, but characters are now facing forward, moving, smiling, with lively little signs of new life tucked among the grasses.

In this time of worry, fear, and loss, let's work hard to pull back our focus and provide a perspective from the starry skies, a view that reminds us we are all shipmates on our shared BLUE BOAT HOME, music and lyrics by Peter Mayer, 2002. Listen HERE.