Illustrations in children’s books don’t have to be complicated to be
effective. One book that always springs to mind when I think of simple
illustrations is Shel Silverstein’s The Missing Piece, along with its sequel, The Missing Piece Meets the Big O.
With just a couple of basic shapes, Silverstein managed to weave a
thought-provoking story. While Silverstein used geometry to tell his
tale, Leo Lionni’s little blue and little yellow utilizes
knowledge of the color spectrum. Instead of how shapes fit together, the
focus is on how two colors, when combined, form a new color.
Lionni’s story is a very simple one that nonetheless can be read on
multiple levels. Little blue and little yellow are best friends. Each is
represented by a large dot of paint, while other dots represent their
classmates and bigger blobs represent their parents. There are no
details to be found in any of the illustrations; it’s just stretches of
color. The characters are circles or ovals, and various locations are
also indicated by blobs of paint. Most pages have a white background,
but for dramatic emphasis, one page is black and another is red. It’s
not much to work with, but alongside Lionni’s simple narration, these
colors sing.
The most dramatic moment comes when, after some
time apart, little blue finds little yellow, and both are so overjoyed
that they hug each other to the point that each becomes green. Looking
at that series of pictures, one could almost swear that they are
smiling. Complications come in when they return home to their parents,
who no longer recognize them because they are green.
What
follows is both a lesson in color mixing and a reflection on how two
people’s love for one another has the capacity to change both in
dramatic ways. As such, it also becomes a lesson in tolerance,
encouraging parents to accept their children’s friends and be open to
the ways in which that friendship might alter their worldview.
Like most of the books I’ve been reading lately, little blue and little yellow is a find from 1001 Children’s Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up.
Though I’ve encountered Lionni before, I hadn’t heard of this book.
It’s been around for 50 years, and in this anniversary edition, there’s a
note from Lionni, who died in 1999, explaining the genesis of his idea.
That recollection, centering on a train trip with his granddaughters,
is almost as sweet as the story itself. For young and old alike, I
recommend this colorful little book.
Showing posts with label Shel Silverstein. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shel Silverstein. Show all posts
Monday, January 25, 2010
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Prelutsky Gives Something Big to Teachers Eager to Inspire Young Readers
The past couple years have been fairly unproductive for me as a writer,
but recently it seems I’m getting the knack back. I’ve spent the past
couple weeks writing a proliferation of poems as if to make up for lost
time. They’re not all masterpieces, to be sure, but it’s nice to feel
like I can write something creative again. In my quest to get my
creative juices flowing, there were two poets I knew I had to turn to
first. My college professors would perhaps shake their heads and sigh if
they knew which poets I hold in the highest esteem. We certainly never
studied them in any of the classes that led to the conferring of a
bachelor’s degree in English on lowly little me. But I have no shame in
proclaiming that aside from lyricists (and that is a rather pointless
exclusion since these two both have been occasional songwriters as well)
my favorite poets are Shel Silverstein and Jack Prelutsky.
Silverstein seems to be the more universally known of the two. His distinctive pen and ink style, his poignancy in works such as The Giving Tree, his contributions to the musical world with such classics as The Unicorn and I’m Being Swallowed By a Boa Constrictor, the silliness he brought to so many poems collected in books ostensibly for children but just as much for adults… Say the name, and most people will know whom you’re talking about. For some reason, this doesn’t seem to be the case with Prelutsky, though his verse is just as accomplished and accessible. I was introduced to him at a tender age with the volume The New Kid on the Block. It recently occurred to me that I do not possess that seminal book, an omission I mean to rectify before too long. In fact, I only own one collection of Prelutsky’s poems, a most unfortunate oversight. I owe my aunt a debt of gratitude for giving me Something Big Has Been Here so many years ago. It holds a place of honor on my shelf.
I read that before Prelutsky fell into writing verse, his primary interest was in art. Thus, it seems rather strange that his poems are not accompanied by his own illustrations. I won’t complain, however. In all honesty, I’m not a huge fan of Silverstein as an artist. He holds his own, but I probably wouldn’t give his drawings a second look independent of his writing. So maybe it’s just as well that Prelutsky leaves the illustrations in this book to James Stevenson. They are far more detailed and realistic than Silverstein’s drawings, and I find them much more enjoyable to look at.
While Silverstein’s poems are occasionally serious, Prelutsky is silly across the board, at least in Something Big Has Been Here. The books is dedicated to children’s booksellers, and he clearly had kids in mind when choosing his subject matter. Many poems are written from a child’s point of view, often complaining about some gross unfairness or another. Several conclude with a twist at the end. In addition to amusing juvenile exploits, there are plenty of unusual animals, including some creatures Prelutsky invented himself.
When my aunt presented this book to me, she made note of several favorites, and I admit I’m biased in their favor, particularly Belinda Blue, which describes a temper tantrum of seismic proportions that I suspect I may have at one time had myself, and The Zoo Was in an Uproar, which features a vast cast of incensed creatures. Both are ideal examples of the two elements, aside from rhyme, that are most prevalent in Prelutsky’s poems: big words and alliteration. His poems roll off the tongue. They are fun to read, and a young child reading them aloud can’t help but feel a bit intellectual. Prelutsky was building kids’ vocabularies long before Series of Unfortunate Events was a twinkle in Daniel Handler’s eye. An excerpt to demonstrate: ”Repellant!” puled a puma, / “Bizarre!” a badger bawled, / the donkeys were disgusted, / the pandas were appalled…
My biggest complaint with Prelutsky is his almost blanket use of commas at the end of his lines when they are often clearly uncalled for. I’m not sure why he does this. Is it to make the poems easier for a child to read aloud, equipped with a reminder as to when to take a breath? It grates on me after a while, and I find myself mentally putting in the appropriate line-end punctuation (or lack thereof). Aside from this minor quibble, Something Big Has Been Here is a superior collection of poems that I would recommend to elementary school students and to older folks who still dare to admit that this stuff resonates with them. With a hundred poems in the collection, there’s bound to be something in there for any child. If you’re a Shel Silverstein fan, you definitely should check out Jack Prelutsky. He may not be quite as well-known, but he’s just as likely to inspire a love of reading in the impressionable and imaginative minds of the young.
Silverstein seems to be the more universally known of the two. His distinctive pen and ink style, his poignancy in works such as The Giving Tree, his contributions to the musical world with such classics as The Unicorn and I’m Being Swallowed By a Boa Constrictor, the silliness he brought to so many poems collected in books ostensibly for children but just as much for adults… Say the name, and most people will know whom you’re talking about. For some reason, this doesn’t seem to be the case with Prelutsky, though his verse is just as accomplished and accessible. I was introduced to him at a tender age with the volume The New Kid on the Block. It recently occurred to me that I do not possess that seminal book, an omission I mean to rectify before too long. In fact, I only own one collection of Prelutsky’s poems, a most unfortunate oversight. I owe my aunt a debt of gratitude for giving me Something Big Has Been Here so many years ago. It holds a place of honor on my shelf.
I read that before Prelutsky fell into writing verse, his primary interest was in art. Thus, it seems rather strange that his poems are not accompanied by his own illustrations. I won’t complain, however. In all honesty, I’m not a huge fan of Silverstein as an artist. He holds his own, but I probably wouldn’t give his drawings a second look independent of his writing. So maybe it’s just as well that Prelutsky leaves the illustrations in this book to James Stevenson. They are far more detailed and realistic than Silverstein’s drawings, and I find them much more enjoyable to look at.
While Silverstein’s poems are occasionally serious, Prelutsky is silly across the board, at least in Something Big Has Been Here. The books is dedicated to children’s booksellers, and he clearly had kids in mind when choosing his subject matter. Many poems are written from a child’s point of view, often complaining about some gross unfairness or another. Several conclude with a twist at the end. In addition to amusing juvenile exploits, there are plenty of unusual animals, including some creatures Prelutsky invented himself.
When my aunt presented this book to me, she made note of several favorites, and I admit I’m biased in their favor, particularly Belinda Blue, which describes a temper tantrum of seismic proportions that I suspect I may have at one time had myself, and The Zoo Was in an Uproar, which features a vast cast of incensed creatures. Both are ideal examples of the two elements, aside from rhyme, that are most prevalent in Prelutsky’s poems: big words and alliteration. His poems roll off the tongue. They are fun to read, and a young child reading them aloud can’t help but feel a bit intellectual. Prelutsky was building kids’ vocabularies long before Series of Unfortunate Events was a twinkle in Daniel Handler’s eye. An excerpt to demonstrate: ”Repellant!” puled a puma, / “Bizarre!” a badger bawled, / the donkeys were disgusted, / the pandas were appalled…
My biggest complaint with Prelutsky is his almost blanket use of commas at the end of his lines when they are often clearly uncalled for. I’m not sure why he does this. Is it to make the poems easier for a child to read aloud, equipped with a reminder as to when to take a breath? It grates on me after a while, and I find myself mentally putting in the appropriate line-end punctuation (or lack thereof). Aside from this minor quibble, Something Big Has Been Here is a superior collection of poems that I would recommend to elementary school students and to older folks who still dare to admit that this stuff resonates with them. With a hundred poems in the collection, there’s bound to be something in there for any child. If you’re a Shel Silverstein fan, you definitely should check out Jack Prelutsky. He may not be quite as well-known, but he’s just as likely to inspire a love of reading in the impressionable and imaginative minds of the young.
Friday, March 18, 2005
The Saster of Milliness Ives Lagain
When I was a senior in high school, I was saddened to learn that one of
my favorite writers, Shel Silverstein, had died. So when I saw his name
on the list of upcoming new releases at my bookstore, I was excited. I
did not expect to see any new Silverstein books, and the prospect
intrigued me. I bought a copy yesterday and quickly devoured it.
What I really would have cherished, I think, is a collection of poetry in the vein of Where the Sidewalk Ends, A Light in the Attic and Falling Up. Those books contain dozens of trademark Silverstein poems ranging from wacky to inspiring (often both at once), and because of them Silverstein is one of the first names I think of when asked to name my favorite poets. Runny Babbit is something a little different. It is a collection of poems, but they all focus on a particular character, and most run about eight lines.
Each poem is accompanied by an illustration, allowing it to spread across two pages. The main character is a dumpy bunny, a well-mannered little fellow with a host of oddly-named woodland companions. This is the main conceit of the book, one that will probably appeal to young children who find delight in chattering in Pig Latin and other such “secret” languages long after the adults around them have begun tearing their hair out. The words Runny Babbit (subtitled A Billy Sook) are all topsy-turvy. Usually the first letters of two words are switched, though on occasion Silverstein changing something else around just to throw the readers a curveball (or to make something rhyme). It’s amusing at first, but I’m afraid I tired of it quickly and found myself just switching the letters back to normal as I read.
The illustrations are done in Silverstein’s distinct style, and many of the poems don’t make sense without them. Some of them also include bits of dialogue, also written in the flip-flopped style. Basically the book is a series of vignettes about Runny, calling to mind the delicious minimalism of James Marshall in his chronicles of George and Martha. Most of the poems are pretty mundane to begin with but have a concluding twist that elicits a chuckle. Silverstein takes the ordinary day-to-day life of his young protagonist and draws humor from it.
Some of the poems are more successful than others. I found Silverstein’s reference to George Washington hilarious, but I didn’t really see the point of the ditty that included Yankee Doodle. It’s one of a few poems that is just sort of there, with no grand reason for its existence. The best offerings include a sly wink in the last couple of lines, as in Runny and the Scancin’ Dunk: “ Runny fell in a pud muddle, / and had to clash his wothes, / when along came Skertie Gunk, / tancin’ on her does. / Skertie Gunk, she taved her wail / to say, “Hello, my friend.” / So Runny Babbit had to go / and clash his wothes again.”
I shouldn’t be too surprised that a posthumous offering does not quite hold up alongside the seminal works of a master versifier. Take away the distinctive letter-switching style, and most of these poems simply don’t provide the zaniness level I’m used to with Silverstein. Still, it’s a good offering – a great one, considering the fact that I didn’t expect to read anything new by him again.
I also have to comment on the photograph on the back of the book. It’s an interesting pose, him sitting back on a porch with his knees out, sprawled comfortably. My brother laughed when he saw it and said he didn’t look anything like an author of children’s books. He’s as intimidating as the phony author featured on the cover of Lemony Snicket’s Unauthorized Autobiography; he looks a little like the last man standing on Survivor. So there’s a certain ironic humor in this portrait, as well as a poignancy born of the fact that we know he is deceased. I don’t know when the picture was taken, but to me it says weary defiance. I notice that the photographer is the person to whom the book is dedicated, so I imagine that he was a friend trying to capture the author as he was.
What he was to me is a man with a wicked sense of humor and a natural flair for stringing words together in a most amusing fashion. He also had a real sense of compassion about him, as is evident in such tales as The Giving Tree. I don’t know if Runny Babbit will ever achieve that book’s iconic status, but for any fan of the dearly departed poet, it is a reason to be grateful.
What I really would have cherished, I think, is a collection of poetry in the vein of Where the Sidewalk Ends, A Light in the Attic and Falling Up. Those books contain dozens of trademark Silverstein poems ranging from wacky to inspiring (often both at once), and because of them Silverstein is one of the first names I think of when asked to name my favorite poets. Runny Babbit is something a little different. It is a collection of poems, but they all focus on a particular character, and most run about eight lines.
Each poem is accompanied by an illustration, allowing it to spread across two pages. The main character is a dumpy bunny, a well-mannered little fellow with a host of oddly-named woodland companions. This is the main conceit of the book, one that will probably appeal to young children who find delight in chattering in Pig Latin and other such “secret” languages long after the adults around them have begun tearing their hair out. The words Runny Babbit (subtitled A Billy Sook) are all topsy-turvy. Usually the first letters of two words are switched, though on occasion Silverstein changing something else around just to throw the readers a curveball (or to make something rhyme). It’s amusing at first, but I’m afraid I tired of it quickly and found myself just switching the letters back to normal as I read.
The illustrations are done in Silverstein’s distinct style, and many of the poems don’t make sense without them. Some of them also include bits of dialogue, also written in the flip-flopped style. Basically the book is a series of vignettes about Runny, calling to mind the delicious minimalism of James Marshall in his chronicles of George and Martha. Most of the poems are pretty mundane to begin with but have a concluding twist that elicits a chuckle. Silverstein takes the ordinary day-to-day life of his young protagonist and draws humor from it.
Some of the poems are more successful than others. I found Silverstein’s reference to George Washington hilarious, but I didn’t really see the point of the ditty that included Yankee Doodle. It’s one of a few poems that is just sort of there, with no grand reason for its existence. The best offerings include a sly wink in the last couple of lines, as in Runny and the Scancin’ Dunk: “ Runny fell in a pud muddle, / and had to clash his wothes, / when along came Skertie Gunk, / tancin’ on her does. / Skertie Gunk, she taved her wail / to say, “Hello, my friend.” / So Runny Babbit had to go / and clash his wothes again.”
I shouldn’t be too surprised that a posthumous offering does not quite hold up alongside the seminal works of a master versifier. Take away the distinctive letter-switching style, and most of these poems simply don’t provide the zaniness level I’m used to with Silverstein. Still, it’s a good offering – a great one, considering the fact that I didn’t expect to read anything new by him again.
I also have to comment on the photograph on the back of the book. It’s an interesting pose, him sitting back on a porch with his knees out, sprawled comfortably. My brother laughed when he saw it and said he didn’t look anything like an author of children’s books. He’s as intimidating as the phony author featured on the cover of Lemony Snicket’s Unauthorized Autobiography; he looks a little like the last man standing on Survivor. So there’s a certain ironic humor in this portrait, as well as a poignancy born of the fact that we know he is deceased. I don’t know when the picture was taken, but to me it says weary defiance. I notice that the photographer is the person to whom the book is dedicated, so I imagine that he was a friend trying to capture the author as he was.
What he was to me is a man with a wicked sense of humor and a natural flair for stringing words together in a most amusing fashion. He also had a real sense of compassion about him, as is evident in such tales as The Giving Tree. I don’t know if Runny Babbit will ever achieve that book’s iconic status, but for any fan of the dearly departed poet, it is a reason to be grateful.
Wednesday, March 29, 2000
Keeps On Giving
Shel Silverstein, the late great children's author extraordinaire,
showed his sensitive side in this beautiful book illustrated by him as
well. With gentle simplicity, he begins the story: "Once there was a
tree..."
In the beginning pages of "The Giving Tree," he sets up the blissful friendship between the tree and a little boy. The boy climbs up her trunk, swings on her branches, picks her apples...even immortalizes their love in her bark by carving "Me & T" with a heart around it. But as too often is the case, the child grows up and loses interest in his childhood friend, much like Jackie Paper in "Puff the Magic Dragon".
While the boy grows into a man, the tree continues to see only the boy who she loves so much. When he is a young man, he remembers the tree long enough to complain to her that he wants to start a life for himself but has no money. The tree generously gives up her apples so he can sell them, and she is happy because she was able to help her friend.
But he stays away for a long time, and the tree grows lonely. Then, one day, he comes back. This time he wants to settle down and start a family, but he needs a place to live. So the tree offers her branches so he can build a house. Once again he leaves, and she is happy to have helped him.
But he stays away even longer this time, and when he returns he has grown much older. The tree doesn't notice, however, and she listens as he expresses his wish to travel the world. This time she tells him to cut down her trunk and make a canoe out of it. So he does, and he paddles off into the sunset. And the tree is happy, "...but not really."
She has been reduced to a sad old stump. The wind can no longer whip through her branches, she can no longer gaze out upon the world from high in the sky...but most of all, she has nothing left to offer her friend. He stays away a long, long time, and the tree begins to think he will never return. Then, one day, he comes back, an ancient man who has withered away to practically nothing. She is so happy to see him that she can scarcely contain her joy. But she is old, too, and just as weak as he is.
She turns to him sadly and explains that there are no branches left to swing from, no apples left to eat, not even a trunk to climb. The boy -- for he will forever be so in her mind -- replies that he is too old to do those things, that he is sad and tired, that all he really wants now is a place to sit and rest. And the tree straightens herself up proudly as she realizes that an old stump is good for something. So the boy sits on the tree, and the tree is happy.
It is a beautiful story about growing up and about the value of friendship. And it comes full circle when at last, after a long, hard life, the boy returns to the tree to live out the rest of his days by her side. For she has remained faithful to him to the end, and the sacrifices she has made for him allow their friendship to survive all of the years of separation.
Other books by Shel Silverstein are also thoroughly enjoyable, though generally more for their comedic value. This book is probably the most thoroughly moving thing he ever wrote. If you enjoy the themes of this book, keep an ear out for the following songs: "Old Friends" (Simon and Garfunkel), "Puff the Magic Dragon" (Peter, Paul and Mary), "Biff, the Friendly Purple Bear" (Dick Feller), and "Little Boy Blue" (The Irish Rovers).
In the beginning pages of "The Giving Tree," he sets up the blissful friendship between the tree and a little boy. The boy climbs up her trunk, swings on her branches, picks her apples...even immortalizes their love in her bark by carving "Me & T" with a heart around it. But as too often is the case, the child grows up and loses interest in his childhood friend, much like Jackie Paper in "Puff the Magic Dragon".
While the boy grows into a man, the tree continues to see only the boy who she loves so much. When he is a young man, he remembers the tree long enough to complain to her that he wants to start a life for himself but has no money. The tree generously gives up her apples so he can sell them, and she is happy because she was able to help her friend.
But he stays away for a long time, and the tree grows lonely. Then, one day, he comes back. This time he wants to settle down and start a family, but he needs a place to live. So the tree offers her branches so he can build a house. Once again he leaves, and she is happy to have helped him.
But he stays away even longer this time, and when he returns he has grown much older. The tree doesn't notice, however, and she listens as he expresses his wish to travel the world. This time she tells him to cut down her trunk and make a canoe out of it. So he does, and he paddles off into the sunset. And the tree is happy, "...but not really."
She has been reduced to a sad old stump. The wind can no longer whip through her branches, she can no longer gaze out upon the world from high in the sky...but most of all, she has nothing left to offer her friend. He stays away a long, long time, and the tree begins to think he will never return. Then, one day, he comes back, an ancient man who has withered away to practically nothing. She is so happy to see him that she can scarcely contain her joy. But she is old, too, and just as weak as he is.
She turns to him sadly and explains that there are no branches left to swing from, no apples left to eat, not even a trunk to climb. The boy -- for he will forever be so in her mind -- replies that he is too old to do those things, that he is sad and tired, that all he really wants now is a place to sit and rest. And the tree straightens herself up proudly as she realizes that an old stump is good for something. So the boy sits on the tree, and the tree is happy.
It is a beautiful story about growing up and about the value of friendship. And it comes full circle when at last, after a long, hard life, the boy returns to the tree to live out the rest of his days by her side. For she has remained faithful to him to the end, and the sacrifices she has made for him allow their friendship to survive all of the years of separation.
Other books by Shel Silverstein are also thoroughly enjoyable, though generally more for their comedic value. This book is probably the most thoroughly moving thing he ever wrote. If you enjoy the themes of this book, keep an ear out for the following songs: "Old Friends" (Simon and Garfunkel), "Puff the Magic Dragon" (Peter, Paul and Mary), "Biff, the Friendly Purple Bear" (Dick Feller), and "Little Boy Blue" (The Irish Rovers).
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