Come Visit With Me: THE LIBRARY IN THE WOODS

Coming up, April 6, is National Library Day. April is also National School Library Month. As with any and all other focus days or months, these call attention to what we agree is important, but risk the suggestion that the topic isn't noteworthy during the rest of the year. I'm happy to say that I (and so many others I know) find libraries to be a necessary and integral part of our lives, year after year. In fact, since retiring, I've used public libraries even more so than while working full time in schools (and I used libraries often then!).  

CAROLRHODA BOOKS, 2025

In the case of a new picture book offering, the availability of a public library was life changing. My limited access to libraries as a child were mentioned in a recent post, HERE, but my restrictions were matters of location, transportation, and the generally low quality of children's/youth offerings at that time. In THE LIBRARY IN THE WOODS, written by Calvin Alexander Ramsey and illustrated by R. Gregory Christie, the characters are residents of Roxboro, North Carolina in the era of Jim Crow. 

The author's lived experiences inspired this narrative that traces a family, one that must finally abandon their efforts to live independently on a farm due to natural forces beyond my control. That early, heartbreaking opening moves them to town, where the young boy narrator learns about a library, one that does not deny him entry and treats him with the respect he (and all people) deserve. Despite his awareness that he'd be refused entry to the town library, this one was operated and under complete control of the Black community. Access to so manny books was a dream come true.

That rarity, in his time and place, make a compelling and powerful story in itself. But the greater layers and further details of this story involve the family from which the narrative emerged. His choice of his three book allowance for each checkout included one for his father, one for his mother, and one for himself. Providing his father with a book (on George Washington Carver) leads to revelations for the boy, to learning ways that literacy can be shared, and to readers' empathy for the deep love and care shown from cover to cover. 

Both author and illustrator are multiple award-winning creators of works for young readers, and this merits similar attention and praise. The art is both familiar and informational about the historic period and location. The text moves smoothly, as if the boy is retelling the events to a neighbor or parent. The author note (and archival newspaper clipping form the actual Roxboro Library) indicate ays in which the story is literally taken from his life and ways in which it was changed for the sake of focus and pacing. 

Both the author's actual life history and this account of it are moving and powerful. This is a picture book that would work well in a social studies class related to the era in American history, or to literacy in America, or to economics in that place and time. I hope you'll consider your own relationships to libraries while in your young lives and across a lifetime. As Ramsey says in those closing notes, to have grown up with actual library access,  even if not "equal"  to the libraries from which he was excluded, was a privilege and joy beyond the reach of so many others of color in the South.The countless ways in which library access has improved my life are blessings beyond measure. 

Celebrate your own libraries in some meaningful way on April 6 or the next time you visit. A sincere "thank you", with a line or two about the differences libraries have made to you, will be welcome, I guarantee. 

I also  recommend , for adults who wish to be informed about the current assault on linaraies and access to books, a memoir/account of the status of that battle: That Librarian: The Fight Against Book Banning in America by Amanda Jones.

THE BLUE HOUSE I LOVED; Coming Soon!

University of Minnesota Press, 2026

 In less than a month a new picture book will release and it is worth pre-ordering, in my opinion. (Thank you to University of Minnesota press for an advance copy to read with no promise of a review). THE BLUE HOUSE I LOVE is written by Kao Kalia Yang and illustrated by Jen Shin. The narrative text adopts a look-back, first person voice, capturing the child point-of-view within a reflective account of a time of struggle and poverty that was nevertheless rich with family love, security, and joy.

The cover suggests the approach in voice and in illustration that hints at a misty/memory quality blended with architectural accuracy and detail. Readers will sense that from the title page in which crisp-line border that suggests features the drawing tools used to achieve the precision of blueprints.

Both narrative elements (naming the corner street location in St. Paul, and the build-date and history of this blue house) and illustration technique combine emotional resonance and family resilience with structural elements as if the building had been sliced to provide a view though the fourth wall. This Blue House was the source from which the Hmong family found refuge and stability, the footing on which to launch independence and progress. Within those exposed walls were the aspects of life that offered comfort from minimal means, including a splash of color in the rug. 

Without revealing a spoiler, things change. Even so, memories remain. Within those memories the narrator finds herself reliving and always remembering life in the BLUE HOUSE she loved. 

This is not only a lovely reminiscence of a childhood that certainly involved struggle but was wrapped in a sense of home and family and security. I connected with that entirely, even though my family's immigration story was several generations before I was born, and our struggles did not involve the social pressures faced by those adapting to new languages and cultures. Even so, my first memories of a childhood home involve specific architectural elements shared with the BLUE HOUSE (the single bathroom shared by many, the back porch where life unfolded), and the time spent with extended family, playing on the concrete basement floors, and more. 

For anyone who teaches or encourages writing from personal experiences and small moments, this is ideal mentor text to read and discuss. It's also a rich and robust view of a Hmong family living specific to its culture but also typical of many families, immigrant or not. There are far too few picture books (or novels) that center universal experiences from points of view beyond Black or White. (And too few from Black perspectives, too. Click here to see data.) When a picture book of this quality and rarity does appear on the scene, encourage friends, librarians, teachers, and readers to discover and enjoy it!