HERE & THERE

By Thea Lu

 

(Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2024)

 

 

 

There are homebodies and there are those with constant wanderlust. Here and There celebrates both. 

 

The double-page spread format of picture books allows author and illustrator Thea Lu to chronicle the parallel lives of two people, on the surface starkly different, but more similar in terms of how they think and feel.

 

Dan, the homebody representing “Here,” owns a café in a small town by the sea. Aki, the wanderer representing “There,” is a sailor at sea. Dan is content to stay put while Aki is always heading somewhere. If Dan is akin to an oak tree with big roots in place, Aki is a migratory gull embarking on one continuous journey.

 

As different as these two men are, they sometimes pine for another kind of life…one perhaps like that of the other.

 

Outside Dan’s window is the view he has

known for his whole life...

When the wind is blowing, he sometimes

wonders what life is like in other places.

 

Aki’s…never had a place to call home.

When the machine [in the engine room]

is booming, he sometimes wishes for

an old friend to talk with. 

 

The book doesn’t celebrate Dan’s comfort at home and in the café nor Aki’s sea exploits; instead, each savors the truly special moments, things that stand out from their “ordinary” lives. For Dan, he’s enthralled by stories from café patrons, visiting from faraway places. Aki, in turn, enjoys the local hospitality when he docks in port, being treated to a homemade meal or becoming a guest in a home where “[t]he bedding was soft and the room was warm.”

 

Through inference and “reading” the pictures, we discover that Dan and Aki one day meet, each hanging onto a keepsake from the occasion. As different as their lives are and will continue to be, the men find commonality through a chance connection. 

 

This is one of those quiet, beautifully illustrated picture books I imagine enchanting adults perhaps more than children. And why not? There are no age recommendations on picture book covers. Notably, the main characters are adults.

 

Illustrations for Dan’s story are predominately colored in earthy and woody browns while pictures accompanying Aki’s story are filled in with sea blues and grays. Lu, based in Shanghai, originally published the book in Chinese in 2022, then translated the current English edition. 

 

The story appears to be inspired by two actual people whose lives may resemble that of Dan and Aki. On the title page, Lu’s acknowledgments include, “Thanks to the dive guide and the owner of the no-name café in Cambridge for sharing their life stories with me.” The fact they are not named, not even by their first names, adds to the intrigue…a reward for readers who attend to the fine print.

 

This book would be a gentle adult-to-child read, a chance to linger over the soft, vivid illustrations. Really, much would be lost (conversely, little to be learned) from too quick of a read. It would be fun for both the reader and the listener to speculate over whether they identify more with Dan or Aki, not just as to their vocations but, on broader terms, the lifestyles they live. If missed on the first read, a second or third read might show both Dan and Aki have a keepsake of the other. Discovering the evidence may delight the reader, helping them see the extra reward that comes from giving extra attention to a books’ illustrations.

 

Definitely worth tracking this book down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

JOHN'S TURN

By Mac Barnett

 

Illustrated by Kate Berube

 

(Candlewick Press, 2022)

 

 

 

I checked this book out of my local library based on the writer’s name and the cover image. Mac Barnett is a clever, sparkly writer of children’s books like Sam and Dave Dig a Hole and Count the Monkeys. I figured I could use some amusement. But this isn’t that kind of book. (More on the cover in a bit.)

 

The book focuses on a regular feature of a school’s Friday morning assemblies. At the end, one student performs a special talent, such as playing the tuba, performing magic tricks or doing stand-up. This Friday, as the title notes, it’s John’s turn. 

 

At breakfast in the school cafeteria, John doesn’t look so good. The students around him eat, chat and laugh. John does none of that. He’s got a case of the nerves. Later, backstage, he changes into a white leotard, black pants and slippers. He sits, anticipating his performance, still looking nervous as the assembly proceeds through its normal agenda items:

                            Mr. Ross reminded us permission slips

                            were due Monday. We all sang a song.

 

At last, it’s time for John.

 

                            “What’s John gonna do?”

                            Andre asked without raising his hand.

                            Mr. Ross looked at his paper.

                            “He’s doing a dance.”

                            “Cool,” Andre said.

                            He never raises his hand. 

 

There’s always an Andre. And the fact there is, makes the reader worry a little for John. This is unlikely to be Andre’s (and others’) version of a cool dance. 

 

John dances. Neither John’s movements nor the music—“strings, violins and things”—is familiar. Kids laugh.

 

But they stop when shushed. John commits and, yes, he shines. He takes a bow. How will his peers respond? The ending, of course, is how we want things to go for every young John, daring to be different, sharing his true passion.

 

Bravo!   

 

I do have a quibble over the cover. I admit the image of a young boy in ballet gear, complete with pointe shoes, drew me in. I knew this kid book would be different. I figured it would confront stereotypes and traditional gender roles. As an adult, I saw the cover’s message: Very Special Book. But, for kids, the cover may make them giggle—boys, especially—and steer clear of picking it up. I would have preferred an image of John’s face nervously peeking through a stage curtain at the expectant audience. Indeed, there’s a suggestion of this in part of the title page. Given that the book avoids mentioning John’s talent right away, the cover is also a spoiler, making the reveal less dramatic.

 

On my second time paging through the book, I focused on Kate Berube’s illustrations, done with ink and paint on cold-pressed watercolor paper. She skillfully depicts each scene. The title page shows students gathering in the open assembly room (aka the cafeteria), some finishing up breakfast, some chatting, some seated facing the stage, ready for what’s to come, one intently reading a book in his lap. 

 

Whenever Mr. Ross talks, there’s at least one audience member talking to a neighbor. By contrast, when a student performs, the students give them full attention.

 

And then comes John’s turn. Classical music plays and the students look bored, skeptical; one looks primed to heckle. John looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, his face full of angst. His face is tentative during his first moves.

 

And then… 

 

In a double-page spread, Berube depicts six stages of one grand leap and we see John’s face change from worried and cautious to proud and accomplished. From that point on, there is no turning back. John is in his element.  

 

This is a well-told story and a highly useful book to share with children before talent shows or any school assembly when students or a theater/dance group performs. It’s also a great conversation starter about following one’s interests no matter what the peanut gallery might say or do. Pot-shots are easy. Sometimes they come when someone feels uneasy, the subject matter unfamiliar. Sometimes they arise from a desire to mock. There will always be critics. 

 

Let John and boys like John dance on.

 

  

BIJAN ALWAYS WINS

Written by Adib Khorram

 

Illustrated by Michelle Tran

 

(Dial Books for Young Readers, 2024)

 

 

 

This is a curious book, for the wrong reasons. The title doesn’t match the text, at least not to my satisfaction.

 

I checked out the book, thinking it would be about poor sportsmanship—yes, winners can be bad sports. I figured it would include a comeuppance, an occasion when the main character must deal with defeat and, in the process, realize it’s not about winning or losing; rather, it’s about playing the game. A great lesson to learn.

 

I also figured there would be sports involved. Soccer is perennially popular with kids. Maybe some meanness during dodgeball. Perhaps some cheating during hide-and-seek. (Guess who peeks when they’re It.) 

 

But there were no sports. No games. Not even board games or a retro round of Go Fish. 

 

The book isn’t really about a poor sport—not on-the-nose enough for me, at least. Instead, it’s about being boastful. And, in the situations presented, main character Bijan is off the mark when he constantly says, “I win!” 

 

He wins at drawing birds.

He wins at eating vegetables.

He wins at brushing his teeth.

 

What?

 

The situations are ones in which a person is more likely to say, “I’m the best!” or “I’m better than you!” 

 

I can swing the highest.

I have the best Matchbox cars.

My painting is better than yours.

 

Nope. None of that. To Bijan, it’s always, “I win!”

 

I felt Bijan had some language issues. I wondered if he had cognitive challenges. He also seemed obsessive.

 

All I wanted was a book on sportsmanship. Kids need that. 

 

Kids also need a book about modesty and toning down boastfulness. 

 

Somehow Bijan Always Wins blends and blurs these topics to the point it is confusing and the point is lost. Really, I should not have been wondering if Bijan has special needs. This is not supposed to be that book.

 

Part of my letdown comes from having read author Adib Khorram’s vivid and sensitive young adult novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay.[1] (I gave that book five stars on Goodreads back in 2018.) A promising writer, for sure. Unfortunately, this picture book disappoints.[2]

 

It’s a head-scratcher. How did this get published by a major publisher? Who did (or didn’t do) the editing? Change the title—e.g., Bijan Boasts—and get more specific (and varied) about boastful phrasing. This could have been a great book, worthy of the digital art by Michelle Tran which is reminiscent of the work of Harry Bliss. 

 

Surely, there’s someone out there feeling boastful: I could write a better book…on boastfulness or on sportsmanship. There is room on library shelves for both.

 

 

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[1] On the back flap, the YA title is missing a capital for the verb, typed as Darius the Great is Not Okay. Major miss by a major publisher.

[2] It’s only worth a footnote to quibble over specific content. Four of the double-page spreads are devoted to separate dreams Bijan has on a single night. (The books is not supposed to be about dreaming.) One dream would have sufficed. The extra pages might then have at least touched on games or sports.