The first time I encountered the word “flotsam” was when I saw The Little Mermaid
in second grade. I had to ask for an explanation behind the names of
Ursula’s pet eels, Flotsam and Jetsam, and I learned that flotsam is
material that floats on the surface of the water. In David Wiesner’s Flotsam,
the title refers to any number of objects, but most of all it refers to
the underwater camera found by a boy who is spending the day at the
beach. Wiesner shows us the boy at times, but he also shows us things
from the boy’s perspective, so we get up-close and personal with several
unusual items and especially with the photographs developed with the
film from the camera.
Flotsam is unusual first and
foremost because it is a picture book in the truest sense of the word.
There are no words, aside from the occasional label on an object or
sign. Few pages features just one picture, though; most have several
different panels of varying sizes, which allows for a lot of action in a
short number of pages. One page has 13 different panels, most of which
are used to illustrate the tedium of waiting for a roll of film to be
developed. It only takes an hour, but given the boy’s fascination, it’s
easy to understand why he is so impatient to look at those pictures.
The boy is clearly someone who is engaged with the world around him. He
brings a microscope to the beach with him, along with a pair of
binoculars, and his aim is to observe as much as possible. Initially,
that means hobnobbing with a couple of crustaceans. But by developing
the film inside the camera that washes up on shore, he has the chance to
sneak a peek at the “mysterious fathoms below,” as the sailors put it
in Little Mermaid‘s opening scene. And what he finds is fascinating indeed.
Wiesner’s illustrations are fun and detailed, especially once we
actually get a look at the photos. It’s at this point that the book
takes a turn for the fantastic, since the underwater scenes reveal fish
and other undersea creatures acting in very surprising ways. For
instance, on one page, several giant starfish do some stretching
exercises as whales glide peacefully below them. Atop each of the
starfish is a green landscape, suggesting that some of what humans take
to be islands may, in fact, be alive. Which could explain a lot about LOST...
Each of the photos astounds the boy, but he lingers longest over a
picture of an Asian girl holding a picture of a child who appears to be
Scandinavian. With some help from his magnifying glass and microscope,
he is able to see just how many children have ended up with this camera
and make a guess as to how long it’s been traveling around the world.
This aspect of the book reminds me of sending a message in a bottle.
I’ve always wanted to do that, especially since I’ve read stories of
those messages being found and of a long-distance friendship being
formed. That’s sort of the idea here, but instead of worrying about
getting in contact with the previous finder, the plan is to pay it
forward, giving some other child somewhere the joy of finding something
so unusual.
Wiesner received the Caldecott Medal for this
wordless but wonderfully creative story. No doubt that’s one of the
reasons it was included in 1001 Children’s Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up.
The illustrations are beautiful, especially the underwater depictions.
What’s more, it’s an engaging story. I can imagine it being transformed
into a short film, much the way Raymond Briggs‘ The Snowman was.
This, too, is a story of friendship, but of a different kind. Its main
character becomes an exclusive member of a brotherhood of like-minded
children spanning more than a century. I would think this could come
across even more dynamically with some animation. But any child whose
frame of mind is suitably similar to that of the boy who finds the
camera could find Flotsam quite dynamic enough as is.
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