Liars and Saints

  My daughter is now at a stage where she states her questions aloud while watching a movie. I've learned that I do not have to answer the questions. She is just thinking out loud. Her questions are spot-on. They are the questions that any engaged viewer would want to explore. In his new book "Make Believe," Mac Barnett argues that kids are the ideal readers. Their minds have not atrophied. They do not grow impatient if a story "breaks the rules." They are comfortable with uncertainty--because their growing brains have not learned it's possible to *reject* uncertainty. (By contrast, in my old age, I don't have much patience for a novel if it fails to feature a detective. If I can't immediately sink into the standard detective rhythms, I get crabby and anxious.) Barnett suggests that 95 of every 100 picture books are very bad. But he says this is not alarming, because 90 of every 100 "adult" books are very bad. Barnett argues that many adult...

 I'm looking forward to Mac Barnett's retelling of "Rumpelstiltskin." Jon Klassen has taken a pass--for reasons unclear--and the illustrator is Carson Ellis. Barnett has a way of making his narrator into a character. In "Billy Goats Gruff," the narrator  confides that he actually lives near the troll. "I've heard that the troll is in the swampy Netherland. If he is happy--I cannot say. I don't visit; there are too many mosquitos." The same kind of trick is at work in "Rumpelstiltskin." For example: "The maiden had a father who was always chatting. He wasn't a bad guy, but he had a tendency to brag. Here, I'll give you some evidence...." Finally, I look forward to the beautiful interiors--the patterned floors, the wallpaper, the tapestries, and the rugs. The pub date is February 3rd. Meanwhile, this week, Elizabeth McCracken's newest book arrives.

  A story has to include so many things: a setting, a group of characters, a conflict, a sense of movement, an ending, a kind of subtextual "humming." It's no wonder that many picture-book writers handle the challenge by simply pretending it doesn't exist; so many writers churn out plotless sermons instead of stories. That's what makes "Extra Yarn" special. In very few words, Mac Barnett tells a complete story. Little Annabelle lives in a snow-covered town. One day, she stumbles on a box of yarn. She begins knitting--and, almost immediately, she encounters nastiness. The town bully alludes to "your stupid yarn." And, blithely, Annabelle says, "You're just jealous." (Annabelle is correct.) A powerful fashionista archduke learns of Annabelle--and he tries to buy the yarn. When she refuses, he just steals the yarn. But, in a foreign kingdom, the yarn-box loses its magical powers; it's just empty. The archduke throws the box into ...

  Often, picture books are plotless or predictable. Things get resolved; love wins. That's why I enjoy "The Misunderstanding," by James Marshall. The two hippos misread each other--and you expect that all will be well, eventually--and then the tension grows and grows, until the curtain abruptly drops. Mac Barnett does something similar in "Square." The protagonist, Square, spends his days pushing square-shaped rocks up a hill. His friend, Circle, observes the work, and she wrongly concludes that Square is a sculptor; he is making brilliant self-portraits. Circle says, "Since you're such a genius, you must make an image of me." Square could correct the error--but he is flattered, and a bit passive--so he sentences himself to hell. For hours and hours, he works on a "Circle" effigy, but of course he can't reach his goal. The ending is a shocker, and it's just as absurd as the previous chapters. It's so difficult to tell an origi...