Ever since the day when I visited my great-aunt's house as a toddler and
witnessed a bat frantically flapping from a little-used room when she
opened the door, I've had a fascination for the maligned nocturnal
creatures. So I couldn't help but be drawn to Janell Cannon's celebrated
Stellaluna, which tells of a little fruit bat who loses her way
after she and her mother are attacked by an owl and ends up in the care
of a bird, who insists that she behave like the rest of her children,
denying her innate batty ways.
Because bats tend to rank with
spiders, snakes and other creepy-crawlies as creatures that generally
don't receive much public approval, it may seem a strange choice to
write a story about one. But Cannon is drawn to these misunderstood
mammals, and her vibrant illustrations actually manage to make
Stellaluna even more lovable-looking than the birds she comes to think
of as siblings. We see her wings as the graceful apparatus they are, and
we gulp along with her when she cowers under the mother bird's glare,
clinging to the nest by her thumbs and promising not to teach her nest
mates any more bad habits.
Every page of text features a tiny
pen-and-ink drawing of a bat going out into the world and meeting
various other creatures. I have my suspicions as to the identity of this
bat but will keep them to myself since they reveal a key plot point if I
am correct. The main illustrations, however, are in full glorious
color, detailed and expressive with pale brown bats and birds standing
out against deep blue skies.
The story turns out to be one of
tolerance, of learning that it's okay to be different, that you are the
way you are for a reason. It's very much an Ugly Duckling story except
that while the mother bird is harsh toward Stellaluna, her
pseudo-siblings are kind, even wanting to emulate their new friend's
strange habits. The story is told in fairly simple but lyrical prose
ideal for a bedtime read-aloud; school-age children won't find too many
troublesome words to trip over, and the lesson on bat biology in the
back enhances the book's educational value.
"How can we be so
different and feel so much alike?" one of the birds wonders late in the
book. "I think this is quite a mystery," another chirps. It's no mystery
why children have flocked to this gentle story despite the fact that
bats are not generally seen as residents of the realm of cute and
cuddly. Cannon helps us to see that all creatures are beautiful. If
children can be taught to respect the differences of those with
feathers, fur and wings, can a more understanding approach to their
fellow humans be far behind?
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