Houses, Homes, and Changing Lives

I discontinued adding "Covid updates" or anchors to the content of my posts several months ago, mistakenly believing that readily available vaccines would lead the way out of this pandemic. Instead, we are facing rising positive Covid test numbers and hospitalizations for Covid Delta variants in unvaccinated folks that are again overwhelming our physical and human resources. The clock is ticking on the various economic support programs, including an end to the eviction moratorium looming in coming weeks. With so many uncertainties (and scary) circumstances surrounding kids, the prospect of moving is one more variable beyond their control. Or is it?

The current housing market indicates many kids/families will find themselves moving from the home they know to something else. In some cases that might be a "movin' on up" experience, but for many others it could be due to an eviction or job change/loss, or even involve time spent within temporary housing for unhomed folks, or foster settings. (If you missed it, please read my recent review of A KID IS A KID IS A KID, HERE.) Another review from last season strongly recommends THE BLUE HOUSE, by Phoebe Wahl. 

Candlewick, 2021

I mention these perspectives before sharing two picture books about families and homes that won my heart on first reading and then amped up that reaction on repeated readings. The first of these is THE HOUSE OF GRASS AND SKY, written by Mary Lyn Ray and illustrated buy E. B. Goodale. Narration adopts the perspective of "the house", while maintaining a knowing third person voice to explore the lived experiences of this house on a hill in the country. From its earliest fresh lumber smells to observing growing families,  the house learns words like "good-bye" and then "hello", until it sits empty for a surprisingly long time. The grass and sky and tire swing and blooms reliably remained. Seasons passed, but potential new family residents (with diverse identities and preferences) would come, discuss, then leave.

Rabbits waited to be chased, dandelions prepared to be wished on, and starry nights comforted the house through its bare windows. Until... one of those families returns. Restoring the home with caring attention and coats of paint indicate that, once again, the house, the hill, the sky will be the stage on which lives are lived and memories are made. I love that each prospective new owner-family is not the assumed "white" families often depicted in rural and renovation scenarios.

This perspective is both tender and persuasive, never suggesting that the house has its own "life", but rather that every house has a purpose in OUR lives. That purpose is to become a home.

BLUE DOT PRESS, 2021

Next up, author Margaret Wild and illustrator Ann James adopt an entirely different approach and perspective to the home-leaving, home-finding, home-making process. GOODBYE, OLD HOUSE shifts to the perspective of a canny and caring little character who is already owning their transition. The leaving process is revealed by lifting them off the impressionist-styled scenes to the forefront with a black-line-on-white, loosely drawn identity. This intentional child collects significant experiences for one last time: fishing, woodland runs, pony petting, and good-byes to each room and home-location. 

In each case, they convey a sense of peace about the departure; not joyful, but also not melancholy. 

Then, with the same deliberate, in-the-moment awareness of good-byes, they experience many "This is the first time..." "Hello" scenes in a new house-to-become-home. 

This is a story of a child who is able to make an empowered transition from a prior home to a new one, regardless of the reason for the move. It suggests that the geographic locations, physical properties, or particular details of the buildings themselves, HOUSES becoming HOMES depends on the embrace of their residents. The ability to do that, for children especially, is in direct proportion to preparation and attitude conveyed by their adult caregivers/family. 

This is a book that should be shared with/recommended to any adults who anticipate moving, for any reason. It is also a wonderful book for story time and story-sharing in libraries and classrooms. The child who inhabits this story is ambiguously gendered and aged, conveys familiar emotions that invite connection, and models an open and adventurous attitude while holding close the memories and experiences of their past. The art style itself allows young audiences to imagine themselves being overlaid on this experience of moving, viewing themselves as the constant and stabilizing factor in life changes. 

While there are no direct references to back-to-school, these two titles make a great lead-in to conversations about being "new", about saying "good-bye", and about seeking ways to connect those two things in meaningful activities and memories. 

A Lifetime of Dreaming- in Thirty-Two Pages.

I'm the first to admit that I'm averse to labeling anything as "favorites". There are entirely too many wonderful things in the world to start ranking one better than the next. When it comes to books I often find something of value in a title whether it suits my personal taste or not. If I can't say something positive about a book, I refrain from saying anything at all. 
I'll admit, though, that I approach certain "types" of picture books with a wary eye and anticipate disappointment. 
A case in point: picture books in which a child character grows to adulthood (and some mature insights or convenient answers) within those few colorful pages. 
I'm popping in for this short post to recommend a recent release that takes on the challenge of aging a character without losing real story excellence and comes out a winner. 

Harcourt Brace and Company, January, 2015

And that winner is: A VIOLIN FOR ELVA, by Mary Lyn Ray, illustrated by Tricia Tusa.
The synopsis from Indiebound says: 

"A young girl longs to play the violin in this lyrical story that shows it's never too late to pursue your dream. More than anything, Elva wants a violin--but her parents say no. So she pretends. When she should be brushing her teeth, Elva rehearses for recitals. When she should be learning subtraction or going to sleep, she imagines playing all the music in the world. The years pass, but Elva never forgets her childhood wish, and so one day she takes a deep breath and follows her heart . . ."

Here's what I had to say about it on GOODREADS:

This is the rarest of rare picture books- one that features a child growing into adulthood yet retaining appeal and eliciting empathy from even the youngest child. Elva's yearnings for music, and for learning/playing the violin in particular, are a metaphor for any unfulfilled personal passion. What might have been a maudlin or adult-centric "don't wait too late" life lesson is told with graceful prose, rhythmic repetitions, and a strong sense of seasons and time (think a kid-friendly version of "Turn-Turn-Turn"). That text combines perfectly with illustrator Tricia Tusa's childlike take on adulthood, including simple-lined identifiable facial expressions, body postures, and winning details. When Elva is finally making music on a double page spread, her feet, in white anklets, come right out of her Mary Jane shoes in an ecstasy of ageless bliss. Readers of any age will celebrate her dream-come-true moment.