Skip to main content

The Picture Book That I Love

 One of my favorite picture books is "Yoko," by Rosemary Wells. I'm not alone; this ranks high with Judy Blume, and with Dwight Garner, the critic for the Times.


Wells understands the concept of high stakes. This is a thriller for children. It's immediately riveting. A little cat brings sushi to school--and her entire class mocks and rejects her. Who, among child-readers, wouldn't immediately relate to (and start worrying about) this cat?

The cat's well-intentioned teacher believes that she can create a "teachable moment" with an International Food Day. Everyone will have to try each dish. But, like so many adult efforts, this one backfires. The dogs and woodland creatures simply continue to avoid the sushi platter.

Here is where things get subversive. If the cat isn't going to convert all the pedestrian minds in her classroom, then how can she find something like a happy ending? The answer is surprising, and it "works"; it feels like something that could really happen in the world.

One of Wells's many gifts is for detail; "Yoko" introduces you (in a funny, effortless way) to the "Learning Corner," the "Kindness Song," the array of little toothpick flags that you can purchase at Party City. Also, Wells does not pander to children. She understands that meanness and stupidity do exist in the world (and any child knows this, as well).

I'm a fan.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...