Better Late Than Never

In the last ten years, I've heard myself say: "If I had to do it all over again, I'd be a librarian." What could be more exciting than to work in that sacred space that holds forth, to anyone who wants to explore them, worlds of knowledge and possibility. As a long-time English teacher to elementary school children, and more recently a French-to-English translator and published children's author, I have a natural affinity to the world of words and books, but I've come to this love of librairies too late. Wondering recently, what with my sheer joy at just being in a library and spending hours pulling books off the shelf and wishing I had time to read them all and through them discover the world, why I did not pursue the idea of being a librarian earlier in my life, I've remembered moments and places that could have steered me in that direction but were somehow lost in the flow of life.

Gov. Jimmie Davis inspecting BookMobile, 1962
Used with permission, State Library of Louisiana

I loved these mysteries!

My first memory of loving a library was the "BookMobile" that parked close to my childhood home on Donna Drive in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. At the Broadmoor Shopping Center parking lot, right next to Andrews' Rexall Drugstore, my brother and sisters and I, along with a gaggle of kids from the neighborhood, would line up, impatient to enter the itinerant bus laden with treasures where space inside was limited. We would file in the back door of the long bus, browse the narrow aisle lined with two packed shelves for a few short minutes, choose our books, scoot up to the front of the bus, and quickly check out our treasures. Then, of course, I'd hurry home to read and re-read… and wait for the BookMobile's return the following week. Little Women. Trixie Belden. Nancy Drew. Eight Cousins. Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. These are a few of the titles that come to mind. Thinking of the BookMobile brings back blissful memories.

Surprisingly, I have no memory of a library in my elementary school or junior high school, although I feel sure there must have been one in each establishment. Even during that one year as a sophomore at Broadmoor High School, I cannot remember a school library. Strange.

Kendall Branch Library, Memorial Drive

It wasn't until my family moved to Houston in the summer of 1970 that I have my next memory of feeling completely at home and happy in a library. Moving to a new town and high school when one is fifteen years old was at times a distressing experience, and the quiet yet vibrant world of the the Kendall Branch of the Houston Public Library on Memorial Drive must have soothed my soul and promised that answers to all those questions and dilemmas I was facing were surely to be found somewhere in these volumes. Come to think of it, that's when I began to read biographies: I wanted to see how other people faced and overcame their specific challenges. This library seemed huge and I loved browsing through its aisles, then settling into a desk while waiting my mother to finish her errands before picking me up. The official list of "Books to Read Before College" at the front counter caught my eye; this small piece of paper introduced me to a list of wonderful classics and intrigued me, and I started on a quest of reading them all (still working on that).

Troy H. Middleton Library, LSU, Baton Rouge

After two years in Houston, I returned to Baton Rouge for four years as a college student at LSU. During that long period, I frequently used the LSU library, but it was mainly for studying for exams, or writing term papers. Getting anything done in my dorm room was almost impossible, and the library offered a haven where I could find silence and think. On the other hand, there was little time just to enjoy the library, or to browse in the aisles in search of the unexpected: those professors kept us busy with a great deal of required reading!

Bibliothèque municipale, Couvent des Ursulines, Lannion

Regarding the decades-long period since my college years, I have been lucky. The beautiful and well-stocked library in Lannion (housed in the 17th century Ursuline Convent) kept me happy for eighteen years. After those years in France, the District of Columbia Public Library system has provided me with hours and hours of pleasure and learning these last nineteen years. DCPL is fabulous, vibrant, modern, and a true public service to the residents of DC. My neighborhood library is the Mount Pleasant Branch on Lamont Street. Recently renovated, it is a heavenly place to spend time. The children's section is a very special spot, with murals, painted in the 1930s by Aurelius Battaglia, depicting a fantastical world where the animals take over the circus.

DC Public Library, Mt. Pleasant Branch, Lamont Street

Since children's literature and books for young readers have become more important to me due to my teaching and writing, the library is playing an even larger part in my life. If there is one thing I want to impart to my students and to my readers, it's a love of reading at a very young age. My somewhat late-bloomer passion of reading and libraries lay dormant for too long, and those lost years can never be recouped. The six-, seven-, eight-, and nine-year old students I teach (and from whom I learn tremendous lessons) are philosophers: they ask the hard questions and they tell the truth. And so, I tell the truth right back to them: "If you want to be happy in life, you must love your library, love your librarian, be a reader, and a very curious one at that. The earlier the better."

Next up: The Little Libraries That Could… a few thoughts, notes, and pictures about small libraries (and their wonderful librarians) I visited in Maine and how they persevere in the face of tremendous odds.

Jarrett J. Krosoczka (pronounced CROSS-OSKAH… just in case you were wondering)

Jarrett J. Krosoczka with a young reader
Mount Pleasant Library, Washington DC

DC Public Library Mount Pleasant Branch and Politics & Prose invited children's author and illustrator Jarrett J. Krosoczka to meet with children and adults to present his new chapter book "The Platypus Police Squad: The Frog Who Croaked." The event was fun as well as inspirational: an art major and lover of comics is earning a living doing what he loves to do, i.e., telling stories with words and pictures. With already twenty books to his name (ten picture books, nine graphic novels, and now his new "Platypus" series), Jarrett J. is going strong. I loved hearing him talk about his graphic novel series "Lunch Lady" and I laughed out loud when he spoke of how, when revisiting his elementary school as an adult, he began to imagine how a lunch lady (or any adult at school) might possibly have a life outside the school - something he couldn't have fathomed as a child. As a teacher in an elementary school, I get that all the time. When I see students somewhere, whether it be a museum, the farmer's market, BestBuy, or just anywhere outside the classroom walls: "Mrs. Paul!" they exclaim, as if it would be impossible for me to be anywhere else but permanently ensconced at the front of the class at the school they attend! And I loved the way JJK talked to the kids. No funny voice, no cute-sy language. No, he spoke n-o-r-m-a-l-l-y. I admit that I feel real discomfort at the way some adults speak to children, as it their intellect were not quite in tact. JJK was so real with them. And he connected with them, instantly. He knows their world because he remembers it from when he was a kid.
Thanks to DCPL, P&P, and of course, to Jarrett J. for a fun, witty, and informative encounter. His books will definitely be on my classroom library shelf come fall.

JJK's new chapter book

« Jazz Band » est là !

Jazz Band sort aujourd'hui ! Publié aux Éditions Talents Hauts et illustré par Grégoire Vallancien, mon deuxième livre jeunesse fait partie de la collection bilingue DUAL. Avec le premier chapitre en français, le deuxième en anglais, le lecteur, pour connaître la suite de l'histoire, doit passer… de l'une à l'autre langue.

Jazz Band raconte l'histoire de Margot, jeune pianiste de classique qui doit quitter Paris pour aller vivre à New York avec sa famille. D'abord réticente, elle intègre le jazz band de son collège américain et c'est là que l'aventure commence. Elle rencontre une jeune batteuse enthousiaste, un beau contrebassiste silencieux, un pianiste de jazz renommé français qui habite Manhattan, et… un jazzman légendaire qui lui laissera un souvenir inoubliable. 

Jazz Band, my second children's book, is being released today in France by Éditions Talents Hauts. Written both in French and in English, the book is part of a bilingual collection called DUAL—readers begin the novel in French, but to find out what happens next, they switch to English.

Jazz Band tells the story of Margot, a young classical pianist who is far from enthusiastic when she learns that her family is leaving Paris for New York. But she joins the jazz band in her new American school, meets a lively girl drummer, a handsome but silent double bassist, a famous French-American pianist who lives in Manhattan, and… a legendary jazzman who has more than one surprise up his sleeve.

Eagerly Awaiting Erica's Visit

My second graders at the French International School are eagerly awaiting the visit of author Erica Silverman. They adore Cowgirl Kate and Cocoa, those two sparky and tender friends. They've come up with questions for the author, they've prepared a Readers Theatre performance for the author, and they will all wear bandanas on the day of her visit to show how we psyched we are, and how we'd all like to live on a ranch. They will even sing a French version of Cocoa's Lullaby!

Our school librarian, Elodie Domenge, has prepared a display to make Erica feel at home. We can't wait! Yee-haw!

Pippi Longstocking

I've just finished reading, for the first time ever, Astrid Lindgren's Pippi Longstocking. Wow, am I flabbergasted! Wishing now that I would have read this earlier in life, I can only guess how much I would have enjoyed this as a girl. Irreverent, strong, eccentric, subversive - she's a girl's role model, and a woman's delight. Refusing authority to those whom we never dare disrespect, ie, teachers and policemen, Pippi delights in being her own person, her own nine-year rebellious, natural, wonderful self.

Pippi Longstocking came out in 1945 in Sweden, but it wasn't until the book's translation into English by Edna Hurup in 1954 did it become a worldwide sensation, and with it Pippi, a classic, trans-cultural archetype of children's literature.

She reminds me of characters from Roald Dahl's world, of creatures from Dr. Seuss's crazy galley. She is as good as Alice in Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass, turning us all on our heads, making us totally topsy-turvy.


For years, Pippi has been available to my students in my classroom, but it's just one of those books I never took the time to read. Lately, when I heard that Lisbeth Salander, aka The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, was based more on Pippi than on anyone else, I was intrigued. What an eye-opening and fun read it's been.
2007 Oxford University Edition with cover illustration by Lauren Child

I wonder… what editor would take a chance on Pippi today?

Children's Literature in Translation

Try to imagine for one minute how impoverished the children of the world (and we as adults) would be if certain works of literature had never been translated. We would be deprived of some of our richest and most interesting imaginative literary friends: Collodi's Pinocchio, Jean de Brunoff's Babar the Elephant, Hergé's Tintin, Astrid Lindgren's Pippi Longstocking, Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince, Aesop's animal creatures,

and all of Charles Perrault's fantastical Mother Goose Tales, including Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood, Puss 'n Bootos, and Cinderella. We would be unaware of the Arabian Nights: Schererzade's telling of Aladdin's Lamp, Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor, and the many colorful and intriguing characters from the Thousand and One Nights. We would not know the Grimm Brothers' Rumpelstiltskin, Rapunzel, Snow White, and Hansel and Gretel. Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid, Red Shoes, Ugly Duckling, and the Princess and the Pea would be strangers to us! The adventure of Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the delight of Joanna Spyri's Heidi, and the sleuthing of Erich Kästner's Emil and the Detectives would have passed us by. Yet, these stories and characters have inhabited our minds since we were young, and it is thanks to translators and translations that they have.

Despite these familiar authors, much loved characters, and compelling stories, fewer than 2 percent of titles currently on our bookstore or library shelves here in the USA are translations. In France, translated works count for 23 percent. If it's true that English-language works for children are among the most beautiful, vibrant, and creative, it is also true that without world literature, we cut ourselves off from a source of

enchantment, wisdom, and knowledge. The dominance of the English language worldwide is often a sore sticking point in the current debate on translation. Why should one language dominate the global cultural landscape, detractors argue. Others say, why bother to translate when we have such a wealth of our own literature?

Philip Pullman, author of the award-winning fantasy triology, His Dark Materials, expressed it well in his introduction to Outside In: Children's Books in Translation by Deborah Hallford and Edgardo Zaghini: "You never know what will set a child's imagination on fire... but if we don't offer children the experience of literature from other languages, we're starving them. It's as simple as that." I agree wholeheartedly with his assessment. This book aims to celebrate and actively promote an interest in international children's literature has generated some badly needed enthusiasm as well as an organization, Outside In World, dedicated to promoting and exploring world literature and children's books in translation. I like to think that John Newbery, often viewed as the first publisher of children's literature and whose leitmotiv was to "combine instruction with delight," would have been a big supporter.

The International Board on Books for Young People (IBBY) was founded after WWII with the objective of promoting international understanding through children's literature. In 1956, it established the Hans Christian Andersen Award for a living author and illustrator whose works have made a lasting contribution to children's literature. In 1978, it added an Honour List to include a category for acknowledging excellence in translation. It also publishes a journal, Bookbird, a journal of international children's literature, which reviews and recommends books for translation.

Stateside, the American Library Association (ALA) established the Mildred Batchelder Award in 1966, to be given to the American publisher of the most outstanding translation into English of books originally published in a language other than English in a country other than the United States. The award promotes the translation of children's literature, seeking "to eliminate barriers to understanding between people of different cultures, races, nations, and languages." The 2009 Award winner was for Arthur A. Levine Books' Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit, written by Nahoko Uehashi, translated from the Japanese by Cathy Hirano. And the two 2009 Honor Books were translated from the Norwegian by Don Bartlett, and from the German by Anthea Bell.

A propos, ever heard of Asterix? Of course you have. Ever heard of Anthea Bell? Probably not. In the world of translation of children's literature, she's the equivalent of a rock star! In 1996, 2003, and 2007, she received United Kingdom's Marsh Award for Children's Literature in Translation, an honor that goes to the translator rather than to the author. In her vibrant translation of the Asterix bandes dessinées, she did an phenomenal job of keeping the original playful puns intact, receiving high praise for her creatively innovative translation. When interviewed, she once said that a translator becomes another author while at the same time having to get under the skin of the original author. She has translated the wildly popular Inkworld triology by Cornelia Funke. Her translations have won for her publishers the Batchelder Award four different times, and the Batchelder Honor three different times to date, most recently in 2009 for Amulet Books' Tiger Moon, written by Antonia Michaelis, translated by Ms. Bell from the German.

As an advocate for the translation of children's literature, I believe the purpose of books in translation - besides the sheer pleasure of discovery and reading - should be to acquaint children with other cultures. As Anthea Bell put it in a 2006 interview with Writer Unboxed, "The more widely children read, the more open-minded they will surely get to be." An arduous yet exhilirating task, translating children's literature is what I love. Seeking the words and phrases that will convey original meaning is better than solving the most challenging puzzle. If the work of translators breaks down barriers of language and race and geography leads to a greater understanding of other peoples and their culture, might translators be working for world peace?

Complete Idiots

Wow. The SPX (Small Press Expo - an independent cartooning and arts festival), took place this weekend in Bethesda, and once again, it blew me away, just as it has done every year that I've attended. These people are not jaded! They are not blasé! Au contraire, they are fresh. They are alert. They are open-minded, hopeful, witty, fun, quirky, independant, eccentric (everything I dreamed of being when I was a little girl). The atmosphere is friendly, even cozy, it's like all the kids have gotten together with no repressive bosses or overprotective parents hovering over their shoulders. A breath of fresh air. I came away feeling playful.

In this vibrant ambiance of eclectic creativity, I met two idiots. I'm not kidding, these are real people: their names are Robbi and Matthew and they are the creative force and the elbow grease behind... Idiots'Books. After only 10 minutes chatting with them, I felt like we were partners in crime. What had first caught my eye (so many stands, so little time) was one of their collaborative creations, a small, almost tiny, book entitled The Baby Is Disappointing. I casually picked it up and to my utter delight, I discovered an irreverant work that is at once hilarious and totally true. Wait! Did they really, in this age of The Child We Must Fear, dare write and illustrate such realities as "The baby is disappointing. It lies about and yowls. There are moments of minor satisfaction, but frankly we had expected more." (And that is only page 1!) I laughed out loud. I howled out loud. Keep in mind that I am the mother of three children (all older than 21 and whom I adore) as well as a teacher of 6-, 7-, 8-, and 9-year olds.... and that I write for children. What I often find lacking in the world of children-adult relationships is a healthy dose of deprecation, a dash of satire, and a pinch of irony, ie, let's not (we adults) take ourselves and them (the kids) so seriously - they'll turn out OK, and no, it's not necessary to micro-manage every second of a child's life, and yes, it's OK not to be "in love" with your progentiure at every turn. It's also possible to continue being an adult even after becoming a parent.

The playful wickedness of Roald Dahl comes to mind, the radical snarkiness of Lemony Snicket comes to mind, Amélie Nothomb and her subversive childhood antics come to mind, the guilt-free practicality of French parents comes to mind!! (From the vantage of the American cultural landscape, Judith Warner's book Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety, warning of falling into the trap of "total parenthood" and becoming slaves to one's children, also comes to mind.)

The entire book is a hoot. The last two pages are very funny and recounts the moment when the baby is finally asleep... but only for so long. "...We cross our fingers and hold our breath and watch the clock as the baby sleeps. We count the seconds as they pass, bracing ourselves for decades to come."

Conclusion: Check out their Baby book and check out the others. I bought several (After Everafter, Ten Thousand Stories, and Nasty Chipmunk) and am planning to use them with my first graders who are more than capable of understanding the complexities of the human conditon, of discussing subjects we usually shy away from - subjects that these two idiots address in their funny and irreverant books.

Their logo, if it is indeed a take on "out of the frying pan into the fire," is competely à propos. You'll either hate these guys or adore them! So, here's to the idiots, to Robbi who draws the pictures, and to Matthew who writes the books. I believe they're on to something. Check out their website at www.idiotsbooks.com. Even though it is only a homeopathic dose of irony in a bland world of treacly sweetness, it may be enough to start a revolution.

Multicultural Children's Book Festival

The 14th annual Multicultual Children's Book Festival, sponsored by the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, is intent on celebrating diverse cultures. From the look of yesterday's enthusiastic throng of children, families, teachers, and children's book lovers, the festival was a huge success. Attendees met favorite and featured authors, participated in workshops, listened to readings, and saw illustration demonstrations. The cultures of African, African-American, Arab, Arab-American, Asian, Asian-American, Latin American, Latino, and Native American peoples were all represented. With my ties to all things French, I asked one of the organizers if next year, European countries, with their wide array of languages and cultures, might find a place at the table: Why not share with American children the literature of Denmark, France, Italy, Germany, Belgium, Spain, England, and more... wouldn't that make a fine addition to multiculturism?

I was lucky enough to hear Linda Sue Park read from her delightful picture book "Bee-bim Bop!," a poem about a dish every Korean child enjoys, consisting of rice, egg strips, vegetables, and meat. The joy expressed in her poem made me want to run out to my local market, buy the necessary ingredients, and whip myself up a batch of bee-bim bop. You can imagine how pleased I was when, later that evening, I discovered the recipe at the end of the book. She also presented "Yum! Yuk!," a fold-out book of people sounds expressing sentiments such as distaste, laughter, and surprise. As she pointed out, we say things one way in English, but in other parts of the world, the same human exclamations are voiced very differently. Her first presentation had the audience eating out of her hand while the second had them squealing with delight! I can't wait to share these two books with my new class of first graders at the lycée. When I finally got the chance to chat with her, she signed a copy of her work of a more serious nature for middle grade children, "The Single Shard," winner of the 2002 Newbery Prize. With its unforgettable characters, timeless theme, and vision of artistic endeavor, this quiet but forceful story is one of my favorites for young people.

If my encounter with Linda Sue Park was lighthearted and fun, meeting and speaking with Anne Sibley O'Brien, illustrator, writer, and peace activist was just as much a treat, but on a whole other level. Anne spent her childhood in Korea and has long been passionate about multiracial and multicultural subjects. I choose to purchase "The Legend of Hong Kil Dong, The Robin Hood of Korea," a picture book in graphic novel form, which I have now read and adored! Hopefully, my school will let me order 20 copies for my fourth graders. Stories such as this one are ageless and children need to read of other children whose courage is tried and tested.

Of all the beautiful books I saw on Saturday afternoon, the one that moved me the most was the book Anne has co-authored with her son, Perry Edmond O'Brien, "After Gandhi: One Hundred Years of Nonviolent Resistance," published by Charlesbridge. This work contains profiles of fifteen activists and movements for social justice in the spirit of Gandhi's nonviolent resistance. In a presentation at the end of the day, she read to us the passages concerning César Chávez and Aung San Suu Kyi. In the book, we also find Mohandas Gandhi (of course) as well as Rosa Parks, Thich Nhat Hanh, Charles Perkins, Muhammad Ali, Mairead Corrigan and Betty Willams, Wangari Maathai, Nelson Mandela, Václav Hav, all of whom were inspired by Gandhi, his words, and his deeds, and all of whom have worked through peaceful ways, to fight injustice and better the world (and some of whom, I am not proud to say, I had never heard). The Madres de Plaza de Mayo and the Student Activists of Tiananmen Square are also presented. Most importantly, she raises the question of nonviolence in shaping our future. My questions now are: how do I share these profiles with my students? Beginning at what age? In what context? How does one learn tolerance? How does one teach tolerance?

2009 Newbery Medal

Neil Gaiman's novel "The Graveyard Book" has won this year's Newbery Medal, the American Library Association's highest honor for children's literature.  Complaints were voiced last year that "Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! Voices From A Medieval Village" by L.A. Schiltz was unreadable, and that children wouldn't like it.  It hasn't sold particulary well.  There were those who thought that previous year's recipient, Susan Patron's "The Higher Power of Lucky" was both unduly harsh and unpalatably saccharine (I personally loved Patron's book) and that her main character, Lucky, came off as under-developed and without much consistency.  When compared another to Newbery winner written 40 years ago, "Up A Road Slowly" by Irene Hunt, whose main character is complex, not easily pegged, and who matures through both difficult and joyful challenges, Patron's character Lucky might indeed seem as wispy and thin as a sheet of paper.  But perhaps that's just the difference 40 years make.  I have yet to read Mr. Gaiman's honored work, so until I do, I will reserve judgement.  It promises to be interesting:  it is, after all, the story of a boy raised by ghosts (!) after his family is killed.  What I do know is that "The Graveyard Book" has been on the New York Times bestseller list for weeks, that the author himself doesn't consider it to be a "children's" book, and that he found inspiration for the work in Kipling's "The Jungle Book" and was encouraged by his son's interest and hunger to know the end of the story.  

More later, once I've read the book.  I wonder if it will be appropriate for my fourth grade students?  The boys will probably love it.