Voting Rights and Wrongs


The upcoming presidential election and its aftermath are hot topics!  In conversations and the news, questions about voting rights and wrongs are almost unavoidable.  A recent book titled Women’s Right to Vote (2020), written by Kate Messner and illustrated by Dylan Meconis, will bring perspective on this controversy to readers tween and older.  Part of publisher Random House’s “History Smashers” series, this entertaining, highly illustrated volume uses humor to reinforce its serious message about voting inequities and people’s fights to correct these injustices.  This new book expands on points made in some earlier graphic works about the voting discrimination faced by women and Black people, reviewed by me in this post as well as this one and here.

Women’s Right to Vote communicates this longstanding discrimination through humorously blunt words and clearly-drawn black and white images.  For instance, Messner titles two of her book’s ten chapters “Two Steps Forward, One Step Back” and “Listen Up, White House!”  At one point, she captions Meconis’s illustration of the grim-faced response of Supreme Court justices to the possibility of women’s voting with just one pungent word:  “Nope.” 


Throughout this book, Meconis deploys expressive features as well as artful body language to complement and expand Messner’s information.  For example, when readers learn that rights advocate Abby Kelley Foster was pelted by rotten eggs and food, the illustration also shows Foster gripping an apple as though she is about to toss it back at her opponents!  Most of Meconis’ illustrations are single half or full-page drawings but she also includes a handful of double-page graphic novel episodes to deepen key historical moments.  This hybrid novel’s illustrations also include a number of photographs and a few contemporaneous newspaper illustrations. 

Facts which often have been omitted from the history of voting rights pepper this volume.  Readers may be surprised to learn about Queen Amina’s long, successful reign in 16th century Nigeria or how, until 1807, women voted in New Jersey because the law there did not forbid them from doing that.  Yet such individual facts are less significant than the ongoing differences of opinion within the women’s rights movement highlighted in Women’s Right to Vote.  Sad to say, an influential number of white women activists, including such prominent figures as Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, did not believe Black or immigrant men, let alone women, should have the vote.  They argued against this, either out of racism or political expediency, and later, along with others, downplayed or separated the efforts of Black women activists from white women’s groups.  One of Meconis’ graphic novel episodes, featuring Frederick Douglass among others, portrays the complexity of activist views on this issue.  Some Black activists such as Mary Church Terrell and Ida B. Wells-Barnett formed their own groups to advocate for voting rights.


Sometimes, Black activists refused to accept their exclusion from officially all-white groups and their events, joining in the protest marches organized by these organizations.  These strong, at times bitter differences among people otherwise seeking similar political changes will resonate with today’s readers.  We are well aware that supporters of each of this year’s presidential candidates frequently have different goals and priorities motivating their support.  How to identify and change systemic racism is just one of these differing points within and between these groups.   

Women’s Right to Vote also catalogues the ways in which police here in the United States and in Great Britain consistently overlooked violence against women protesters, sometimes themselves brutalizing protesters during events and after arresting them.  Most judges upheld then-current laws, fining and imprisoning some protesters.  This long history of government officials perpetuating or sanctioning violence against protestors, however non-violent, also resonates today, in daily news and the presidential campaign.  In the book’s final chapter, “The Fight Goes On,” Messner highlights this relevance by concluding with photographs of current, diverse women legislators, subtitled “the changing face of leadership.” She and Meconis also discuss how some laws about voting registration, filing, and location continue to limit or hinder people’s right to vote.

It is my strong hope that former Vice-President Biden will become our next president.  If that does not come to pass, Women’s Right to Vote—with its accompanying lengthy timeline of protests and eventual legislative change—is a heartening reminder that progress towards justice and inclusion eventually does occur.  That this book is just one among a spate of volumes published this last year to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the 19th Amendment, legalizing the voting rights of all U.S. women, is another heartening reminder of progress.  If the aftermath of the election is contested, we may also benefit from the perspective on social and political change offered by this book.

Appreciative readers of Women’s Right to Vote will definitely enjoy Messner and Meconis’ other volume in the History Smashers series:  The Mayflower (2020).  It is both very light-hearted and informative.   I look forward to their upcoming volumes in this series:  Pearl Harbor (2021), The Titanic (2021), and The American Revolution (2021).  

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Graphic Insights into Racism

Since George Floyd’s death in Minneapolis last May, public outcries have re-focused attention on the injustices that a few years ago triggered today’s Black Lives Matter movement.  For readers tween and up, that movement’s emotional center and origins are embodied in the enormously powerful graphic novel I Am Alfonso Jones (2017), reviewed in depth by me here.  Its author Tony Medina and illustrators Stacey Robinson and John Jennings are outstandingly effective in depicting the truncated life of fictional New York teenager Alfonso, using magical realism—the narrative device of Alfonso’s ghost and the spirits of other actual, unjustly slain Black people—to highlight his and others’ losses. 

Sad to say, the long and difficult process of transforming insight into social change continues to inspire noteworthy graphic works.   Artists world-wide quickly responded to the slaying of George Floyd.  Yet it is a different instance and kind of racism on May 25, 2020, the very day that Floyd died, and the graphic work this incident inspired, that is my focus today. 

“It’s a Bird” (2020) is a fictional graphic short story rooted in the emotional rather than physical violence its author Christian Cooper experienced while birdwatching in New York City’s Central Park, just hours before George Floyd’s death.   A white woman, asked by Cooper to restrain her dog, tapped into racial stereotypes and years of police violence against Black men, falsely telling police that an African-American man was threatening her life.  In reality, this phone call was a threat against Cooper!   In his story springing from this exchange, 57 year-old Cooper added characters and transferred his experience to a younger man.

Readers tween on up will empathize with the teenaged central character in this expertly-crafted story, illustrated by Alitha E. Martinez and colored by Emilio Lopez, which is accessible online for free as part of DC Comics new Represent! series.  This digital series, according to its editors, “is designed to showcase and introduce creators traditionally underrepresented in the mainstream comic book medium . . . highlight(ing) both new and familiar voices.”  Christian Cooper is both a new and a familiar voice in comics, since before he left that industry twenty years ago for science writing, he was a successful comic book editor.  One of his projects was Marvel Comics gay superhero Northstar.

Readers of “It’s a Bird” will appreciate how, in a few words, Cooper establishes the loving if-prickly relationship between protagonist Jules and his thrifty father.  Jules would rather grudgingly use heirloom binoculars than lose his expensive new Playstation. He does not believe his father’s remarks that those binoculars are said to have “special powers”—ones that kept Jules’ grandfather safe during the Korean War and later civil rights protests.  Jules doubts this supposed luckiness, sarcastically referencing heroic super powers such as Superman’s “x-ray vision.”  To Jules’ amazement, after his encounter with a neighborhood bigot and then that biased dog owner, the binoculars do turn out to have a kind of x-ray vision.  Each time Jules views a bird through them, he also astonishingly sees the translucent head of a Black person unjustly killed by police.  Each of these circular framed shots is followed by a full-scene depiction of that death, grimly colored in red and black. 

As in I am Alfonso Jones, with such scenes this short story deploys magical realism as a significant plot element.  Its final page, with Jules viewing a large image of all those slain people flocking together, each with the wings of angels or superheroes, might similarly be either a real or imagined vision.  We are left with the initial uncertainty of observers within traditional Superman tales, who wonder, “Look! Up in the sky. Is it a bird? Is it a plane?  No, it’s Superman!”  The title of Cooper’s birdwatching tale makes ironic, ambivalent use of that well-known pop culture refrain.  Cooper further acknowledges its impact with the few words displayed at the page’s top:  “Up in the sky.”  This is a powerful blend of verbal and visual storytelling by Cooper and illustrator Martinez.   In addition, the effective absence of panels on that final page, intensifying its drama, also occurs at several points throughout the short story.  At other points within its ten pages, unframed images overlap panels, enhancing a scene’s tension.  

Jules’ growing, oppressed awareness of this history of racial violence is shown in close-ups of his increasingly disturbed features.  In an interview, Alitha E. Martinez, the daughter of immigrants from Honduras and Curacao, has said that Jules’ expression is one she saw on her own young son’s face, after his first encounter with racism.  This story’s merger of disturbing fact with engaging fiction culminates in its back matter. 

This includes a page devoted to Christian Cooper’s Central park experience; a page apiece for Amadou Diallo, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd, the other victims depicted and mentioned by name within “It’s a Bird;” and a final page listing six other Black people slain unjustly by police.  That page ends with ellipses to indicate the ongoing status of this institutionalized violence. This week’s court decision assigning no criminal blame in Breonna Taylor’s death, many would say, is another instance of institutionalized violence being deemed acceptable.  On these back matter pages, the brutal information given about each victim is visually highlighted by boldly-colored text against a black background. 

Reading Cooper and Martinez’ “It’s a Bird” has left me looking backwards as well as ahead.  I will keep an eye out for more works in DC’s Represent!  series as it grows.  I also want to catch up with the award-winning Black Panther: World of Wakanda, (2016 -2017), illustrated by Martinez and written by Roxanne Gay, now available in a one-volume collection.  The recent, cancer-caused death of Hollywood’s Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman adds new poignancy to this 21st century iteration of the Black superhero who originally appeared in 1960s comic books. 

Readers might, in honor of birdwatching Christian Cooper, a board member of the New York Audubon Society, want to look at a fine graphic biography of that groundbreaking ornithologist himself:  Audubon, On the Wings of the World (2016, 2017), reviewed by me here.   The national Audubon Society itself just spotlighted “It’s a Bird” in its on-line magazine.   In response to Christian Cooper’s experience, the Audubon Society also recently held an on-line Black Birders Week.  

Finally, readers might avoid potential confusion by keeping in mind that there are two fine graphic works titled “It’s a Bird”!   Both have autobiographical elements.  Author Steven T. Seagle also references Superman throughout his full-length, semi-autobiographical novel, It’s a Bird . . . (2004; 2010; 2017).  Illustrated by Teddy Kristiansen, that award-winning graphic novel, reviewed by me here, focuses on the impact of an incurable genetic disease, Huntington’s Chorea, on Seagle and his family.  





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In School or At Home–Go Graphic!

As this new school year begins so uncertainly, with COVID-19 affecting where and how youngsters learn their official lessons, I have a new resource to recommend.  Ivan Brunetti’s Comics: Easy as ABC! The Essential Guide to Comics for Kids (2019) will delight and instruct young readers regardless of location, working equally well in school or at home.  That flexibility is spotlighted in the coda to this graphic work’s subtitle: For kids, parents, teachers, and librarians!   Veteran author/illustrator Brunetti’s guide has already won the prestigious  Eisner Award for 2020’s Best Publication for Early Readers.  It was also numbered among Booklist’s Top 10 Art Books for Youth in 2019. 

Yet Comics: Easy as ABC! is not just for young artists already comfortable and confident in their abilities.  Beginning with “Doodles” and “Basic Shapes,” Brunetti assures readers that “There is no one right way to draw—the fun is finding your own way of drawing.”  Fun is a key element in this book.  Its illustrations are playful, and its comments wryly funny.  Bits of advice come not just from Brunetti but from a host of other successful comics creators: these include Roz Chast, Neil Gaiman, Kevin McClosky, Jeff Smith, James Sturm, and Chris Ware.   Sometimes they good-naturedly poke fun at themselves and each other.  I particularly enjoyed Chris Ware’s “Pro-tip #66: Get a PILLOW!” with its illustration showing a big-headed Ivan Brunetti at his drawing board, sitting on a tiny pillow!  Some elementary-age readers will get the joke here, while the youngest users of Guide may casually skip over it, focused more on Brunetti’s brisk directions and many opportunities for step-by-step drawing practice.

In this way, Comics: Easy as ABC! is versatile in the range of young people it informs and entertains.  K/1 grade kids will find it worthwhile, with its “show ‘n tell” sections on balloons and lettering and on pages and panels, while more skilled readers may move into more advanced sections such as “Point of View,” “Short Strips” and “Find Your Voice.”  “Comics Language”—identifying the “lines, bursts, and squiggles that indicate emotion or heat”—will help budding cartoonists according to their skills.  This combination of flexibility with specificity fits into the targeted approach publisher Toon Books takes in all its publications, with Level 1 books aimed at K/1 readers, Level 2 aimed at grades 1 and 2, Level 3 at grades 2 and 3, and Toon Graphics—the imprint of Comics: Easy as ABC!—officially targeting grades 3 to 6. 

I am generally not a fan of such targeting, as I fear it may limit youngsters’ opportunities, but the high quality of Toon Books’ verbal and visual storytelling is remarkable.  I am a fan of this publisher. (In past posts here, I have reviewed its Level 1 Birdsong and the Level 3 Written and Drawn by Henrietta, as well as the Toon Graphics Hansel and Gretel.)  I find it admirable that Toon Books is so acutely aware of stages in child development and reading, yet produces works which are rich enough to offer inflection points into other stages—in either direction.    For instance, while Brunetti at his Guide’s beginning suggests readers take hold of their pens to begin drawing, I can imagine youngsters at home or in school scrambling for well-used crayons instead. 

Adults in either setting will appreciate the Guide’s concluding pages, addressed to “Parents, Teachers, Librarians,” which demonstrate “How to Read Comics with Kids.”  Once again, although Toon Graphics books ostensibly target grades 3 to 6, this helpful section begins with advice suited to pre or emerging readers, with such illustrated suggestions as “Keep your fingertip under the character who is speaking.”  Teachers and librarians also may find the core curriculum- aligned guide to Comics: Easy as ABC! (downloadable here) helpful.  And youngsters themselves along with the adults supervising them  will appreciate the “Further Resources” as well as “Selected Bibliography” showcased on this book’s last page.   There are some free on-line resources for both younger and older kids included there.  I expect those will be of particular value for in-home learners.

As for me, I continue to be an “all-ages” consumer of graphic works.  I am looking forward to my just requested library copies of Ivan Brunetti’s Level One Toon books, Word Play (2017) and 3 x 4 (2018).  Writing this review, I realized the wealth of that publisher’s books I have yet to explore.  One new work in its Graphics imprint debuts in just a few weeks: Black Heroes of the Wild West (2020), written by James Otis Smith and illustrated by Kadir Nelson.  I recognize the name of only one of the three heroes featured on its cover and am now eager to see that work, too. 


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Lifting Spirits

depressed figuresPandemic dangers and safety limits . . . uncertainties about the shape of the upcoming school year—it remains hard to be upbeat when these woes press us down.  Low spirits, of course, affect kids as well as adults.  Two recent picture books remind us how family and home can inspire us, lifting spirits when daily annoyances loom large,  as well as when disaster strikes.  Young readers with siblings will especially appreciate these books, though their similar “messages” and strong visuals will appeal to readers of all ages, even ones (like me) who do not have brothers or sisters.

LiftLift (2020), written by the award-winning team of author Minh Le and illustrator Dan Santat, employs tender humor to depict its sister-brother relationship.  Fans of their earlier picture book Drawn Together (2018, reviewed by me here) will not be surprised at how smoothly Santat’s full-color illustrations move the story line along.  In fact, many of its scenes and pages are entirely wordless.  We see Iris, the early elementary-aged narrator, delight in pressing the elevator button in her apartment building and then observe her frustration when her toddler brother discovers this button!  This is just one of the ways in which his impulsive joys and terrors affect her daily life.  Cartoonish facial features, through Santat’s slyly funny exaggeration, add “punch” to characters’ emotional reactions throughout the book.  These insightfully detailed everyday scenes soon merge with Lift’s charming fantasy elements.

lift outer spacePressing the button of a discarded elevator keypad she finds, then opening a closet door, Iris enters the worlds of her dreams—or, as she wishes, “anywhere but here.”  We observe her in a fantastic, tiger-inhabited jungle and later in outer space.  Close-ups and several double-page spreads convey her surprise and joy in these amazing situations.  I particularly appreciated the shifts in perspective in some outer space panels, capturing the vertiginous nature of gravity-free floating.  Of course, her brother’s needs and wants soon interrupt these pleasures.  How Iris comes to realize that sharing her imaginative adventures with him can enhance these experiences becomes another kind of journey here.

lift last imageHas Iris found a literal portal into other worlds, a nod to such classic chapter books as C.S. Lewis’ Narnia series, with its magical wardrobe, or is she imagining these journeys?  Is there a connection here between the ragged stuffed toy tiger her brother carries or with the solar system mobile in her room?  The drifting snowflakes at Lift’s end, harkening back to her brother’s favorite snow-filled picture book, leave both possibilities open.  Regardless, young readers may enjoy seeing and hearing Santat and Le read this book aloud at minute four of a 50 minute-long  online interview with them.  The rest of the interview focuses on their creative process, individually and together.

The Shared Room coverWhile Lift deals with everyday frustrations and annoyances, The Shared Room (2020) deals with disaster.  It has a much different, more somber tone than Lift.  Author Kao Kalia Yang and illustrator Xee Reiter depict the lingering, emotionally devastating  aftermath of a young girl’s accidental drowning.  How her two elementary school-aged brothers, her younger sister, and their parents cope with this loss—moving from silence to shared remembrances, from denial to acceptance—is the heart of this touching volume.  Their family photographs and videos provide the path that finally draws them onward.  Their home itself is also part of this path.  When one  brother finally moves into what had been the dead girl’s room, having it become a “shared room,” filled with good as well as now sad memories, it is the culmination of that long emotional journey.  Such journeys in these pandemic days may be all too familiar to some readers.

Shared room interiorReiter effectively shifts between close-ups and long-distance views, as we follow this story, which begins in summertime tragedy but emotionally concludes during a bleak Minnesota winter.  Her close-up, full-page head shots of the lost sister, seen here brightly smiling, and later of her grieving brother are particularly moving.  Reiter’s illustrations parallel Yang’s perceptive observations about the impact and changing nature of grief.  The book’s final image, with the family silhouetted against a glowing fireplace, family photos placed on and above its mantelpiece, captures Yang’s eloquently simple conclusion about the feelings the parents and children now share: “[T]hey are keeping each other warm, their little girl’s memory like the fire before them, a melt in the freeze of their hearts.”

I recently wrote about Yang’s acute take on another loss, the death of a neighbor from old age, in this review of A Map into the World (2019).  I recommend that gentle picture book, illustrated by  Seo Kim, to you.  Both A Map into the World and The Shared Room specify the Hmong heritage of their characters, while Lift’s characters are of non-specified Asian-American heritage. 

Beekle coverHaving enjoyed two books illustrated by Thai-American Dan Santat, I was happy while blogging here to catch up with his Caldecott award-winning picture book, The Adventures of Beekle: The Unimaginary Friend (2014).  As you will see either when holding this book in your hands or observing Santat reading it online hereBeekle is another spirit-lifter.  It is noteworthy that Santat wrote as well as illustrated this beguiling story about youngsters and first friendships.  This October I am looking forward to reading Kao most beautiful thing coverKalia Yang’s upcoming, autobiographical picture book The Most Beautiful Thing, illustrated by Khoa Le.  And, while I do not know the overall tone of her other forthcoming picture book, Yang Warriors,  I am happier just knowing it is scheduled for Spring, 2021.  Meanwhile, I intend to keep my eye out for the small, immediate joys that can offset the bigger uncertainties we now face.   





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Laws and Orders

Justice for George FloydThe death here in Minnesota of George Floyd has sparked world-wide protests against police brutality and racism, with people demanding new laws and orders to protect every person’s civil rights.  History has shown that “law and order” political leaders such as President Trump at best too often have limited understanding of the injustices perpetrated under the guise of law.  Today I look at two graphic works that spotlight such injustices—bittersweetly showing both how far U.S. laws have come in righting wrongs and how much further such laws have yet to go.  Young readers late elementary age on up may find the historical perspectives here on civil rights and wrongs of particular benefit, putting today’s protests and related violence in fuller context.  These powerful books examine not only specific laws and legal orders but the attitudes about these rulings—what President Lyndon B. Johnson in 1965 described as “the fabric of our nation.”

Lewis 1Johnson’s signing of the Voting Rights Act that year is recounted near the end of March, Book Three (2016), the concluding volume in the graphic autobiography of U.S. Representative John Lewis.   As a young man, Lewis actively participated in the 1960s civil rights movement, often in leadership roles, and since 1987 has represented Georgia’s Fifth District in the U.S. Congress.  The longtime African-American activist collaborated with writer Andrew Aydin and illustrator Nate Powell on this award-winning trilogy, (begun with March, Book One [2013] and including March, Book Two [2015]).  I have discussed the first two books in depth in previous blog posts.  Volume Three continues to portray the charged events in Lewis’ life through remarkable grey-toned, black and white images which complement and extend the verbal account. 

March 3 parentsOften, wordless panels or pages convey the emotions of those opposed to civil rights for African-Americans as well as those struggling for them.  In Book Three’s prologue, such wordless pages also capture the pain and horror of the parents of the four young Black girls slain in in the 1963 bombing of a Birmingham, Alabama church.  Their emotions are juxtaposed with the cruel excitement later that same day of murderous white teenagers and of the terrorizing white police officer who traced and killed a Black teen.    The officer was never indicted. 

The graphic format is particularly effective in demonstrating how, even after laws such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964 are finally passed, such individual and social prejudice often harmfully continue. Such March arrestattitudes impede legal reforms of institutional racism.  It is this reality, along with the differences of opinion within the civil rights movement itself, which I believe will provide particularly valuable insights for readers seeking context for current protests and reactions to protest.  Those who feel overwhelmed by the ongoing nature of racism—institutional as well as personal—may be heartened by Representative Lewis’ assessment of today’s civil rights protests.  Comparing these to the 1960s movement, he has said elsewhere, “This feels and looks so different.  It is so much more massive and all-inclusive. . . . [with] people from all over the world taking to the streets . . . to speak up, to speak out . . . . It’s another step down the very, very long road toward freedom, justice for all humankind.”

March trilogyAs with the other two volumes, March Book Three bookends Representative Lewis’ account with the ground-breaking inauguration of African-American President Barak Obama.  March, Book Three may be read on its own (and has indeed garnered separate awards, including the prestigious National Book Award for Young People’s Literature), yet if younger readers are up for only one volume of the trilogy, I would suggest Book One.  The account there of Lewis’ boyhood will appeal to youngsters in ways that Book Three’s enumerating civil rights activists and opponents may not.

They called usThe ways in which U.S. laws and orders have unjustly denied rights to other minority groups, again institutionalizing racism, is key to another powerful graphic autobiography: George Takei’s They Called Us Enemy (2019).  It focuses upon how, after Japan’s December, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor, drawing the U.S. into World War II, Japanese-Americans’ lives changed drastically.  Presidential Order 9066, issued in February, 1942, had Japanese-Americans and resident Japanese swiftly isolated as “enemy suspects,” removed from their homes, and interned in bleak, often faraway guarded camps.  More than 110,000 people were uprooted and imprisoned in this way, merely because of their racial heritage.  Then 4-year old George Takei’s family was among them.

soldiers arrestCo-written with Justin Eisinger and Steven Scott and illustrated by Harmony Becker, this award-winning book was first newsworthy because of adult George Takei’s prominence in popular culture.  As every Star Trek fan knows, this actor played Lieutenant (later Captain) Hikaru Sulu in that 1960s TV series and its movie offshoots!  Takei has also been prominent as an activist for gay rights.  Yet They Called Us Enemy stands fully on its own merit as a powerful work.  (Similarly, the musical play Takei helped create in 2008 about his family’s WW II experiences, Allegiance, in which Takei also appeared, won accolades before its Broadway run was cut short.)

enemy communityMost of this 200-page autobiography recounts the experiences of young George Takei during the four years he and his family spent in two internment camps. Readers will appreciate the grey-toned, black-and-white drawings depicting not only the terrible uncertainties of forced relocations but also the ways in which Japanese-American families pulled together to establish supportive communities within the harsh internment camps.   There were childish hopes and pranks (including one about a live “dinosaur” that turned out to be a pig), along with family love and pride.  These temporarily offset the unfair, bewildering regulations and casual cruelties of some guards and neighboring ranchers.   

enemy pigWe see most of these events through young George’s eyes.  Yet as adult George looks back at those years, he also notes the consistent kindness shown by some people outside the camps, who risked arrest to bring books and other aid to the imprisoned Japanese-Americans.  Illustrator Becker’s consistent use of a style typical in Japanese manga (comics) —for instance, exaggerated mouths and eyes to convey strong emotions—unites the viewpoints of child and adult George.  This doubled perspective is important to our understanding both of the strength shown by Takei’s parents and the bigotry Japanese-Americans continued to face after the war, when they were released from the camps.  Close-ups juxtaposed with medium and long-distance panels maximize the emotional “punch” of the incidents recounted here.   

Enemy fatherThey Called Us Enemy also includes relevant events in adult George’s life.  We see his work as an actor involved with civil rights issues, which led to a memorable backstage meeting with Dr. Martin Luther King, and how Takei always strove to take roles—such as Sulu on Star Trek—which were not just stereotypes.  Takei also shows how court decisions about the World War II internment remained important to him and his family.  Not until 1988 did the U.S. government offer an official apology and attempt restitution for Presidential Order 9066 and its subsequent, hurtful wartime rulings.


Citizen 13660Wondering what to read as follow-ups here?  The Comic Book Legal Defense Fund has some suggestions.   I also recently learned about Citizen 13660, a graphic memoir created by Japanese-American artist Mine Okubo about her World War II internment.  It was first published in 1946!  I am looking forward to having a copy of this work’s 2014 reissue in my hands later this month.  (This memoir as described may be appreciated best by readers teen on up.  Readers of all ages, though, will be interested in images from Citizen 13660, online in the Mine Okubo Collection hosted by the National Japanese American Museum.) 

RunIt will be a longer wait for an announced sequel to the autobiographical March trilogy.  Titled Run, this graphic work first scheduled for 2108 publication has been delayed again until September, 2023.  Representative Lewis and Andrew Aydin are Run’s authors, but its illustrator is comics award-winner Afua Richardson, with input from March illustrator Nate Powell.  I just hope that Representative Lewis’s health permits him to continue with this multi-book project.  Meanwhile, daily and weekly news about current protests for civil rights—and the possible changes they may bring to U.S. laws and local government orders—is full of articles and opinion pieces for eager, concerned readers.    



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Outdoor Art with Heart

6082845_040620-kgo-chalkwalk-redo-2-img_Image_00-00-29,04Heartfelt messages to neighbors and neighborhood heroes have brightened many of today’s pandemic city views.  Drawing with chalk, kids have decorated sidewalks, driveways, and even walls with scenes and words to celebrate people and events such as birthdays and graduations.  Before COVID-19, these occasions would have sparked parties or other large gatherings.  Nowadays, outdoor art with heart is one way kids and families are marking these milestone events.   

But outdoor art is not new!  Today I spotlight three picture books that show it as a typical part of childhood for many kids.  One book is a current award-winner I was happy to reread, while another is a biography of a prominent outdoor artist who encouraged and worked with young chalk artists.  There are also works adding perspectives on outdoor art that will interest teen and older readers.  I note one of these possible resources. 

ThomsonBill Thomson’s wordless picture book Chalk (2010; 2012) is a joyful ode to imagination.  His realistic, hand-painted acrylic images show us  three kids as they walk through a rain-splattered playground, discovering a bag of chalk.  Magically, the images eagerly created by this diverse bunch come to life!  That is fine for the host of butterflies one girl draws, but next one of her pals draws a picture of the playground equipment’s large green dinosaur. . . .  There is suspenseful action as Thomson provides a humorous, plot-driven solution to the looming disaster.  Angled views, shifting perspectives, and inserted close-ups advance the book’s well-paced story line.  Chalk, available in hard copy and e-book formats, may also be viewed online here.   Readers can now also enjoy the online video Thomson recently made on COVID-19’s “Draw with Chalk” Day.  It shows how he uses a driveway’s black background as part of the dinosaur’s head he draws there.      

HaringAcclaimed artist Keith Haring (1958 – 1990) never “outgrew” chalk drawing or other kinds of outdoor art.  The lively picture book biography Keith Haring: The Boy Who Just Kept Drawing (2017), written by his sister Kay A. Haring and illustrated by Robert Neubecker, shows how Haring as boy and adult maintained his own interests and chosen methods.  He was enthusiastic and determined even when teachers and others questioned his choices.  Haring’s distinctive, non-realistic style (often called “pop art”) was recognizable on neighborhood and subway walls long before people knew his name—and long before anyone gave him permission to draw on these public sites!  Haring believed art belonged everywhere because it benefited people, drawing communities together.  One of Haring’s communities centered on the fight against AIDS.

The successful Haring also invited kids to work with him on outdoor art projects.  Some of these are shown at the book’s end, where pieces by Haring used within this KeithHaringTheBoyWho_2627-1486589521biography are distinguished from Neubecker’s vibrant, cheerful illustrations.  Haring’s solo and collaborative works with hundreds of kids—including large pieces on walls and buildings—can also be seen online  .  Readers might also enjoy the online video of Kay Haring reading this biography aloud.  The book’s effective refrain—“but he just kept drawing”—is particularly moving when spoken with her sisterly love and pride.

Yang 1Haring’s belief in outdoor art’s ability to connect people and communities is powerfully realized in A Map into the World (2019), written by Kao Kalia Yang and illustrated by Seo Kim.   Its tender story line depicts a year or more in the life of an artistic preschooler.  We see her welcoming new twin brothers, delighting in seasonal changes, and observing the life of the elderly couple who live next door.  When the wife there dies, this preschooler learns about death and grief too.  After a while, the young chalk artist spontaneously sketches a vibrant sidewalk path for her widowed, grieving neighbor.  Depicting the highlight events of her year, she tells the now-reclusive old man that it is “A map into the world.  Just in case you need it.”  Illustrator and author work in wonderful harmony here, as from slightly above the young girl’s head, we see the “teardrops” with which she  begins this path—teardrops that then “splatter like sunshine” outward to the broader neighborhood.

Yang 2A Map into the World is rooted in real life.  In interviews, Yang has explained how it stemmed from her growing family’s experiences in 2015-2016.  Their grieving neighbor, Bob, touched by this heartfelt gesture by Yang’s preschool child, agreed that it would make a fine book.  Yang recalls that “He laughed and cried, saying ‘You’d be making a weed into a flower.’”   A Map into the World, winner of the 2020 Minnesota Book Award for Children’s Literature (among other accolades), connects communities in another way.  It is the first literary picture book to depict the experience of Hmong-Americans. 

kimYang’s decision to use several Hmong words (defined in the book’s front matter) along with Kim’s delicate digital renderings of traditional Hmong garb and foods and a boldly colorful Hmong “story cloth” are further cultural statements and cross-currents.   Story cloths depicting Hmong life and history as refugees are important records within that traditionally oral culture.  (This oral heritage is central to Kang’s non-fiction book for adults, The Song Poet: A Memoir of My Father [2016].)   Kim’s decision to use many double spread images here advances the narrative deftly, especially in combination with her judiciously sparse use of close-ups and overhead views. 

Most beautifulHaving “met” Yang’s neighbor through this book and accounts of its publication party, I was saddened to read that he died at age 92, just last month.  Even sadder, though, is Yang’s report that COVID-19 kept her and her family from visiting Bob during his last weeks.  Better news: Yang’s second picture book, The Shared Room (2020), illustrated by Xee Reiter, will debut on June 9 in an online webinar.  It deals with the death of a sibling.  In addition, Kao Kalia Yang has another picture book, The Most Beautiful Thing, illustrated by Khoa Le, scheduled for publication this coming October.  It is non-fiction about her grandmother, being a refugee, and learning Hmong culture.   

art chalkBefore autumn, though, for summer fun you might have time and opportunity to look further into the world of chalk art.  Tweens on up will be dazzled by some of the creations on view in Tracy Lee Sturm’s The Art of Chalk: Techniques and Inspiration for Creating Art with Chalk  (2016).  But if that book is not readily available during the pandemic, there are online histories of sidewalk drawing, including today’s resurgence.  Perhaps you and your young chalk artists will join or are already are part of an  Instagram community devoted to chalk art.  I look forward to the creations there as well as ones in my own neighborhood!






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Asian – American Heroes, Hopes, and Hurts

facesThis is an important time to look at graphic works depicting Asian-American heroes, hopes, and hurts.

The Covid-19 pandemic has spread some virulent ideas along with its deadly virus. Once-common stereotypes and fears about Asian–Americans, in particular Chinese-Americans, have flared since President Trump began invidiously describing this global outbreak as the “Chinese virus” or “Wuhan flu.”  These attempts to distance himself from the deadly results of his own lack of leadership have incited physical attacks against Asian-Americans as well as verbal assaults.  (Ignorant bigots often mistakenly assume any Asian-American is of Chinese descent.)  As one Korean – American writer eloquently wrote recently, she now too often hears The slur I never expected to hear in 2020.

So, today I describe some graphic literature by luminary author/illustrator Gene Luen Yang.   In earlier posts, I have discussed his award-winning novel American Born Chinese  (2006),  rooted in his own experiences growing up in California, as American born chinesewell as his set-in-China historical duology, Boxers and Saints (2013).   I have also examined the first two collected volumes of Yang’s visionary comic book series about a young Chinese Superman.  Today, I have the pleasure of overviewing that recently completed series, as well as a brand-new work by Yang, Dragon Hoops, and of describing a forthcoming work by him I highly anticipate.  That volume, Superman Smashes the Klan,  is a collection of his most recent three comic books about America’s Superman, and will be published next month.  I was also delighted to discover, through a recent webinar  featuring Yang and Vietnamese – American author Minh Le,  Le’s brand-new graphic novel about a tween superhero, Vietnamese – American Tai Pham.  Titled Green Lantern Legacy, it is iIlustrated by Malaysian born Andie Tong.  I have so many delightful, worthwhile books to spotlight for you today!

Yang’s adventures of China’s Superman, teenaged Kong Kenan living in today’s Shanghai, are completed in volumes 3 and 4 of this “New Super-Man” series.  These superman3volumes collect issues 13 through 24 of the comic books, illustrated respectively by Billy Tan and Brent Peeples.   New-Superman Volume 3: Equilibrium appeared in 2017, and includes a bonus story written by award-winning Canadian-Japanese Mariko Tamaki, while the fourth volume, New Super-Man and the Justice League of China, appeared in 2019.  In these volumes, Kenan continues to discover his superpowers as he acquires the sometimes painful self-knowledge that comes with young adulthood.  Along with verbal jabs between friends in that Chinese Justice League, there are colorful, dramatic battles with supervillains, some drawn from different Chinese traditions.  Some double spread pages splay out the multiple, simultaneous conflicts of these battles, while canny illustrators use other double spread pages to capture just one dramatic moment. Kong Kenan’s first use of his freezing super-breath is an example of that.  Another is Kenan’s pained acquisition of super hearing, with sounds large and small—depicted in circular “snapshots’–assailing him from all directions.

china leagueThere is humorous, true-to-life sibling snark between some of those Justice League superheroes and their non-superhero sisters, while the budding, sometimes sappy romance between China’s nerdy Batman and its Wonder Woman entertains us even as it exasperates their super-pals!   Chinese mythology also appears in the possible futures facing the Chinese Justice League heroes.  Will Wonder Woman learn to control her anger enough to stop morphing into the gigantic Green Snake of legend?  Will the newest member of this Justice League, a superpowered Aqua man escaped from North Korea, resist the temptation to wreck vengeance as his mythological father’s “Dragonson”?  And, most importantly, will an “enlightened” Kong Kenan drop his recent destructive pursuit of perfection to accept and appreciate this flawed world’s “goodness that is—is so, so good”?

superman4Within these last two collected volumes, we see the once-selfish, boastful Kenan learning about and adopting some Taoist ideals.  The harmony of balanced, opposing forces—the yin and yang of Taoism—is modeled by his martial arts teacher and life guide, Master I-Ching.  He and his views are the opposite of the “Fu Manchu stereotype,” a mask worn by his villainous opposite, who says his enemies constructed this “mask out of their own fears.”  Certainly, this 19th and 20th century image of a Chinese – American criminal mastermind is one of the stereotypes underpinning President Trump’s fervent proclamations about the “Chinese virus.”  In a blog post , Gene Luen Yang has examined some historical “Fu Manchu” comic book images and explained the significance of Kong Kenan’s final, transformed costume.  Yet we really do not need this explanation to understand how the new costume’s “S”—now formed by the black-and-white yin-yang symbol—marks Keenan’s new maturity and self-awareness.  The comics’ dialogue and descriptive word boxes are enough to convey this.  The deeper bronze skin tones used for Chinese Justice League figures in this fourth volume might also reflect their personal growth as Asian individuals distinct from the original Justice League characters.   

Personal growth and acceptance of life’s complexities are also prominent in Dragon Hoops (2020), illustrated as well as authored by Yang and colored by Lark Pien.  Dragon hoops This non-fiction novel, Yang’s first lengthy foray into this genre, focuses on the basketball players and history of the Dragons, the basketball team of Cardinal O’Dowd High School in California. Gene Luen Yang taught computer science there for 17 years, and the book has autobiographical elements.  To his surprise, as ruefully unathletic Yang learns more about these young people and their coaches, he becomes enthusiastic about sports.  He recognizes its transformative power in people’s lives and comes to see how its complexities mirror those of his own life, after talking with and researching African – American, Sikh, and female players who have dealt with negative stereotypes and discrimination. Yang is also inspired by the way that, as he tells the team, “[E]ven though you don’t really know if you’re gonna win or lose . . . . [Y]ou step out anyway.”  This inspiration leads Yang to accept the risk of leaving teaching to become a full-time author/illustrator.  He will take the rare opportunity just offered to write Superman comics!  

The probable misdeeds of one gifted coach, accused of abusing students, also impact Yang as a parent as well as an author, leading him to tell his children that hoop 2there are not always clearly “good guys and bad guys.”   Similarly, Dragon Hoops includes this coach even though Yang in the book considers omitting him because of his checkered past.  Much is communicated by the visuals here: the body language and facial expression of the now elderly coach and those who welcome him at the school confound Yang’s expectations.  Dragon Hoops’ illustrations also enhance its storytelling with shifts in focus, panels of different sizes and shapes, apt double spread images, and many dramatically large, varied sound effect words during ball games.  Crucial points during those games are also spotlighted by how Yang sequences illustrations.  One tie-breaking moment is in suspense until readers turn the page to find a huge “SWISH” on one side of a double spread, with a ball having just gone through a hoop on the other side.  Victory for the Dragons! 

The forthcoming Superman Smashes the Klan, written by Yang and illustrated by the Japanese illustration team known as Girihuru, is fiction, but this book is based Klanon real life in several ways.  First, it is a revisioning of a 1946 Superman radio series titled “Clan of the Fiery Cross.”  In that sixteen-episode series, Superman aids a Chinese – American family, the Lees, who are being attacked in Metropolis by a Ku Klux Klan like organization. Gene Luen Yang was excited to learn of this early connection between Superman works and the fight against anti-Chinese bigotry.  He was also excited to learn that the radio series’ popularity had a dampening effect on the real Ku Klux Klan!  This trailer for Superman Smashes the Klan, narrated by Yang, whets readers’ appetite for the book.  Meanwhile, I would point readers to Yang’s own creation of a 1930s to 40s era Chinese – American superhero, in a graphic novel illustrated by Sonny Liew titled The Shadow Hero (2014)I reviewed that book here.   Eager readers will also find exciting, satisfying reading about another Asian-American superhero in the just-published Jade Lantern Legacy (2020).

Thirteen-year old Tai Pham’s warm, close relationship with his grandmother does not include knowing she is Earth’s Green Lantern, one of many interplanetary peacekeepers.  He only knows her as his Vietnamese – American community’s strong Jade“heart,” offering support along with sharp words and advice in her family-run store.  Not until her sudden illness and death, when Kim Tran’s jade ring “chooses” him as her superhero successor, does Tai learn about the immigrant woman’s secret strengths and adventures.  The discovery of a grandparent’s hidden talents and a new connection to old traditions also figured in author Minh Le’s award-winning picture book, Drawn Together (2018, drawn by Dan Santat and reviewed by me here).  In that sense Le’s focus on this cross-generations relationship is not a surprise.  But the brilliant ways in which the author, illustrator Andie Tong, and colorist Sarah Stern connect this family story to the long comic book history of Green Lantern superheroes, to contemporary tween – age life, Vietnamese culture, and to refugee and immigrant experiences past and present,  are purely delightful!

The novel’s two plot elements—a local community trying to save its neighborhood legacy 2from a greedy housing developer, with that rich investor here also turning out to be an evil “Yellow Lantern” overlord—are (with minor variations) typical comic book or TV stories.   But Le’s character development and dialogue add appealing freshness.  Tai Pham’s older sisters offer him pop culture advice as well as moral support, while school friends salt their sympathy with snark.  Visual elements support these scenes.  Tai’s more dramatic college-age sister sports a shock of maroon hair, while a seemingly life-or-death fight between Tai and schoolmate Serena, first shown with close-ups on their angry faces and threats being exchanged, turns out to be a cut-throat ping-pong game! Andie Tong’s fast-paced zooming out and then back into this game, including a few wordless panels, is funny and believable.  The pace and “look” of Green Lantern appearances and disappearances on other worlds or in different dimensions is similarly breathless and dazzling. 

Vietnamese culture in this book is also communicated through a blend of verbal and visual storytelling.  The legendary properties of jade, colorful lanterns, long tunics, and connections with spirits of the dead are some of the Vietnamese items legacy 4and beliefs that smoothly fit into Green Lantern comic book lore.  And the way in which the book’s color palette shifts to reds and oranges not only for dreams or nightmares but for the dangers Kim Tran faced years ago as a refugee and, later, as an immigrant are significant in several ways.  They are part of the human suffering,  often preyed upon by criminals, that fictional Green Lanterns combat.  Yet Kim Tran’s flight from Vietnam, and her later struggles, also show the heroism this character displayed in every day life, confronting dangers apart from her duties as a daring Green Lantern.  Tai’s grandmother is representative of individuals that Minh Le has described elsewhere as “the actual heroes that walk among us.”  The final, wordless two pages of Green Lantern Legacy signal that similar threats still exist today, in the real world. 

We see a family at home, its ethnicity suggested by the woman’s hajib, the first page concluding with a panel focused closely on her fearful face.  In response to refugeesknocking, she has partly opened the apartment’s door.  The next page shows gently smiling Tai Pham, his friends Serena and Tommy, and John Stewart (a Green Lantern off-duty and out-of-costume) each carrying bags overflowing with food to welcome these new arrivals.  It is their heroism and hope, rather than the hurt these “new to the neighborhood” folks may have encountered, that conclude the novel.  We readers young and old need this positive message, to combat the virulent distrust and anger political leaders such as President Trump and other groups continue to spread about people whose looks and heritage differ from theirs.  Asian – Americans are in the foreground of this blog post, but so many of us other Americans still make up its kaleidoscopic background.








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Pandemic! One Hundred Years Later

Fever season coverOne hundred years from now, what will people be reading about today’s Coronavirus pandemic?  While the full dire impact of Covid-19 is still unfolding, such a long-range perspective on pandemics can inform and possibly comfort some of us.  Such stories can tell us how people have survived and then forged onward.  For this reason, today I look at Don Brown’s graphic history of the 1918 influenza epidemic, Fever Year: The Killer Flu of 1918 (2019).  Readers tween on up will best appreciate this fine work, with its century-long perspective on that global tragedy.   


fever season numbersAward-winning author/illustrator Brown deploys delicate watercolor paintings to illustrate this 100-page volume, organized as “A Tragedy in Three Acts.”  Act One details the relevant events of January – July, 1918, while Act Two covers August – December, 1918 and Act Three focuses on 1919.  As this chronology unfolds, readers learn the scope of that pandemic, which ultimately affected a third of the globe, killing about 650,000 people in the United States and 50 million world-wide.  Brown uses color very Fever year--worry is worse than diseaseeffectively to convey these somber events: sepia tones dominate, with bright orange-red highlighting the most emotional scenes or dismaying facts and mistaken beliefs.  Similarly, Brown’s visual composition dramatizes the narrative, with double page spreads conveying wide-scale and significant events, and close-ups on faces or people that dramatize individual accounts.  At times, Brown wisely chooses wordless panels to portray the passage of time or someone’s mounting realization of the pandemic’s effects.  Shifts in perspective on the same page similarly may convey changes in time or mood as well as movement to a different person’s viewpoint. 

Fever year 2 onions Readers will note similarities between people’s responses back then and today to the massive effects of a pandemic.  Uncertainties about its origin and how to treat, slow, or stop the disease occurred both then and now. Like President Trump, some 1918 leaders ignorantly   declared that the outbreak would last only two weeks!  The 1918 flu also saw the outbreak of unreasonable fear or anger, along with the courage of first responders and volunteers in the news today.  For instance, today some Chinese and other Asian-Americans are being heinously attacked just because Covid-19 began in China.  In 1918, the flu was falsely labelled the “Spanish flu” only because Spain, neutral during World War I, announced its outbreak before nations-at-war were willing to reveal their own vulnerability.  The 1918 flu most likely began, as Brown shows, in the United States, in Kansas pig farm country close to an Army base.  Brown also briefly dips into how since 1918 our understanding of that flu’s real origin has changed over the years and finally been scientifically verified.  

Fever year closedAs an author, Brown zooms in and succinctly conveys poignant individual accounts. The exact number of afflicted thousands might be difficult to remember, but it is hard to forget these words of a graveside mourner, speaking about the flu: “It didn’t last too long . . . . It was a whole lifetime.”  Brown’s sketching of facial features, abstractly rather than realistically detailed, captures emotions well, as does his brief outlining of body language.  These visuals liven not only hospital and graveyard scenes but also episodes depicting the spread of the disease and mistaken as well as useful methods to halt its spread.  Today’s readers will recognize the empty, shut-down streets and centers of 1918’s cities world-wide.

Readers will also learn interesting, sometimes surprising facts.  For instance, as a native New Yorker, I did not know that most of its many “No Spitting” signs—still spittingevident in the 1960s and 70s—began as 1918 flu warnings!  Young readers may be surprised at the number of celebrities who survived the 1918 flu, including teen-aged cartoonist Walt Disney, an ambulance corps volunteer.  Less entertainingly, some readers will be surprised to learn that African-American nurses were segregated in the Army, only fully employed there and elsewhere once the flu dangerously increased the need for nurses.  Today’s news is filled with accounts of brave nurses and doctors of all backgrounds, imperiling themselves to treat flu victims. 

The Unwanted Bob Brown Fever Year concludes with a short Epilogue, summing up its three Acts and extending the third with the flu “curtain calls” that appeared sporadically between 1920 and 1922.  Source notes and a thorough, useful bibliography round off the volume.  Satisfied readers here may want to look next at Brown’s award-winning graphic non-fiction work  about Syrian refugees, The Unwanted: Stories of the Syrian Refugees (2018).  I myself am interested in Izzy Frinklooking at some of the prose-only historical fiction Brown has also written.  His first prose novel, The Notorious Izzy Fink (2006), about a 13-year old immigrant in early 1900s New York, facing a possible docked ship cholera outbreak among other dangers and problems, sounds particularly intriguing.


Happy reading as you stay well!

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And the Winner Is

New Kid NewWhat a thrill!  Jerry Craft’s graphic novel New Kid (2019) recently won the prestigious 2019 Newbery Medal for the year’s most distinguished contribution to children’s literature.”  With this award, the American Library Association placed graphic literature fully in the mainstream of children’s literature, a view some of us readers already held.  (I had reviewed Craft’s novel about middle schoolers earlier, also referring to it here.)  But the ALA awards review is not the only yearly major spotlight turned on graphic works for young readers.  Having just last month watched the 92nd annual E 1Academy Awards ceremony, I wanted to bring the “Oscars of the comics world”—the Eisner Awards—to your attention.  These awards are named in honor of comics luminary Will Eisner, the U.S. author/illustrator often credited with coining the term “graphic novel” for his longer works.  (His fans world-wide have begun a tradition of honoring Eisner every first week in March.  That is right now!)   The Eisners have many award categories, including three specifically for kid lit.  So today I take a look at relevant winners of the 2019 Eisner Awards, announced in 2020, with works appealing to a range of young readers as well as us charmed adults.

Author/illustrator Jen Wang won double recognition in these awards.  Los Angeles-based Wang was declared 2019’s “Best Writer/Artist,” with her graphic novel The Prince and the Dressmaker (2018) chosen as the Eisners’ “Best Publication for Teens” ages 13-17.   If you have not already read this twelve chapter, full color work, Dressmakeryou are in for a treat!  Wang’s Cinderella-like tale follows young dressmaker Frances’ transformation into a couturier, achieving her heart’s desire by aiding 16-year old Prince Sebastian fulfill his own hidden wish to dress in gorgeous, elaborate women’s garb.  The cartoon-like features of the pair collaborating in this Belle Epoque adventure capture a full range of emotions—surprise, elation, despair, bewilderment, and finally joy.  In an interview, Wang described Sebastian as “genderqueer,” but said readers might also interpret him as trans or as a “cis” male crossdresser.  Certainly, a fairy-tale romance between Frances and Sebastian blossoms at the book’s end.  Astutely, Wang realized that questioning gender identity and one’s roles in life are especially compelling issues for teens.  She describes and shows in the novel’s  “Process Notes” how she changed her first drawings of Frances and Sebastian as adults into their teen-aged selves. 

dressmaker interiorWang makes extensive, effective use of non-verbal storytelling, with wordless double and multiple-page episodes.  In these scenes, alternating close-ups with mid and long-distance views and juxtaposing panels of different sizes on the page effectively convey actions ranging from mere seconds to hours.  For example, the stumble that Frances—wearing high heels—takes into veiled Sebastian, accidentally uncloaking his true identity, is told in this wordless way.  Later, Sebastian’s despairing moments as well as his and Frances’ final, triumphant reunion also are conveyed in wordless scenes.

StargazingSuch wordless storytelling is also key in Wang’s most recent graphic novel, Stargazing (2019), colored by Lark Pien.  This funny, touching story of middle-school friendship between two girls, the daughters of Chinese immigrants to America, is rooted in Wang’s personal experience.  She herself felt the pressure to succeed that one set of parents imposes on their daughter Christine, while—like her other main character, Moon—Wang as a child also had a brain tumor discovered and successfully removed.  But K-pop music was not as important to the author/illustrator as it is to the 13-year old characters in this ten chapter work!  These tunes feature at home as well as in the many middle-school scenes in the book. Music wafts visually across pages in the form of air-borne banners displaying song notes and lyrics.   Music is one link between the girls whose personalities are so different, one shy and the other outgoing.  Stargazing was published after the 2019 Eisner awards were announced.  These awards (as well as others given throughout the year) may help readers to spot such upcoming works by successful authors. 

Divided earth 3The Eisners may also prompt some book lovers to reread or catch up with past favorites.  This was my experience with author/illustrator Faith Erin Hicks’ The Divided Earth (2018), colored by Jordie Bellaire, which won the 2019 Eisner Award for “Best Publication for Kids (ages 9 – 12).”  The Divided Earth is the final volume in a trilogy I began reviewing here, with its first stellar volume, The Nameless City (2016).  This new Eisner spotlight reminded me to catch up with the middle book, The Stone Heart (The Nameless City #2, 2017) and then enjoy the conclusion of tween-age Kai and Rat’s adventures in The Divided Earth (The Nameless City, #3).  In this volume, the friends risk and divided earth interiorsuffer much before they succeed, with adult help, in bringing a fair peace to the Nameless City.  Sound effect words in different shapes, sizes, and colors add “oomph” to the struggles and battles there.  These include individual combat as well as full-scale warfare. There is humor as well as tender emotion in parent-child reconciliations at the end of the book’s main action, as well as in the final, “three years later” reunion of now teen-aged, fully-grown Kai and Rat. I appreciated how this postscript shows the pair as friends within a larger city community, rather than as an inevitable romantic couple.


Lettering in different shapes and sizes is also important in Johnny Boo and the Ice Cream Computer (2018), winner of the 2019 Eisner Award for “Best Publication for johnny boo 2Early Readers (up to age 8).”  This is the 8th book in author/illustrator James Kochalka’s whimsical series about a ghost, beginning with Johnny Boo: The Best Little Ghost in the World! (2008). I was unfamiliar with these books until reading about this year’s Eisners.  I can see how Kolchaka’s fantastic “takes” on ghosts, silly monsters, and ice cream would appeal to some early readers, but I also know that some publishers, such as Toon Books, provide this audience with even more varied, serious fun.  Some Eisner Awards outside of these three “kid lit” ones may also be relevant for folks involved with young readers.

NLFor example, this year’s award for “Most Promising Newcomer” went to author/illustrator Lorena Alvarez.  Her depiction of the imaginative, possibly supernatural experiences of a Latin American elementary-aged girl named Sandy are vividly captured in Nightlights (2018) and its sequel, Hicotea: A Nightlights Story (2019).  The dreamlike “ghost” in Nightlights is not as friendly as Johnny Boo, but Sandy’s strength is as memorable as her fear and creativity.  In Hicotea, Alvarez depicts Sandy’s perceptions of her school trip to a nearby wetland.  Readers elementary age and up will appreciate both the Catholic school snark and routines and the Hicbrightly colored, surreal images in these graphic works.  The illustrations are lush!  Another relevant Eisner award this year is the winner of “Best U.S. Edition of International Material,” Penelope Bagieu’s Brazen: Rebel Ladies Who Rocked the World (2018), a work best appreciated by readers tween on up.  I first reviewed Brazen here and am happy to spotlight it again during this official Women’s History month.  In addition, the 2019 “Best Painter/Mutimedia Artist (Interior Art) Award” went to Dustin Nguyen, for his achievement on Descender (2015-19).  This SF series, written by Jeff Lemire, features a boy robot in a brutal future.  In its collected volume format, Descender has already appeared on several “best graphic books for teens” lists. 

50358040._UY630_SR1200,630_Looking ahead, finalists for the 2020 Eisner Awards will be announced in April. You might read some of these works to see how your predicted winners match up with the official ones, to be announced in July at California’s Comic-Con gathering.  Further exciting news: October will see the publication of Jerry Craft’s Class Act, the sequel to his Newbery Award winning New Kid.  Looking forward to Class Act makes me feel like a winner myself!








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On Fire

kangaroo fireBlazing sights and sounds dominate the news.  Very young readers may have “tuned out” the U.S. impeachment firestorms, but the vivid, heartrending images of Australia’s animals burned in that country’s worst-ever firestorm season are unforgettable.  These wildfires sparked just as California’s recent blazes came under control . . . for now.  Incredibly, some political leaders in both countries still deny the impact of climate change on increased wildfires.  With Australia’s firestorm season still only half over, today is an apt time to spotlight the impact of fires on people as well as animals.  (I also have a personal interest here, with good acquaintances in Australia and a son in California.)  So today I look at relevant picture and chapter books aimed at young readers and a memorable graphic novel that will appeal best to readers teen and up.

Wildfire MaurerEarly elementary readers will appreciate the simple text in just-published The World’s Worst Wildfires (2019).  Author Tracy Nelson Maurer also serves this audience well by providing historical as well global examples of wildfires notable for their duration, scope, and impact.  Firefighting is briefly mentioned here, but it is not the focus of this primarily photograph-illustrated book, part of “The World’s Worst Disasters” series.  

Little SmokeyLittle Smokey (2019), on the other hand, is all about firefighting!  Author/illustrator Robert Neubecker’s vividly colored drawings heighten the adventures of a team of anthropomorphized airplanes, each with its own role in curtailing wildfires.  Neubecker’s storyline shows how a “young,” small plane perseveres, discovering her place on this team and along the way earning the name “Little Smokey.”  The cartoon-like features of people as well as airplanes here belie the relative sophistication of Neubecker’s visual storytelling: double spread pages emphasize dramatic moments while inserted panels and panel-free, montaged images move the action along briskly.  Planes swoop and swerve, dive and dash.  Rich, dense color is achieved by combining watercolor with digital illustration atop the initial pencil drawings. 

FurgangFans of The Little Engine Who Could will enjoy this book’s resulting straight forward story line and clear-cut characters.  Little Smokey, with its retro Golden Book look, also holds potential for a range of audiences.  I think it would work well as a tale read-aloud to preschoolers, while its extensive back matter about types of wildfires and wildfire equipment, personnel, and prevention will interest older or more able readers.  Those kids could enjoyably gravitate to Kathy Furgang’s more informative, photo-illustrated Wildfires (2015), perhaps also joining tweens and teens in absorbed reading of another National Geographic, Thiessenphoto-rich book, Mark Thiessen with Glen Phelan’s Extreme Wildfire: Smoke Jumpers, High-Tech Gear, Survival Tactics, and the Extraordinary Science of Fire (2016).  Thiessen often writes compellingly from the tense viewpoint of endangered firefighters in this 110 page volume.  Yet both Thiessen and Furgang also point out how new growth occurs after wildfires and how “controlled burns” can contain some wild blazes.  These books will satisfy readers seeking the “whys” and “hows” of wildfires, but other graphic works address the emotional scenes—the “wows” and “oh, nos”—current in recent news. 

BishopStirred by images of Australia’s animal burn victims, readers will appreciate Nic Bishop’s Marsupials (2009).  This award-winning author/photographer’s amazing close-up photos of healthy marsupials, primarily from Australia, is a comforting follow-up to those wildfire scenes.  Bishop’s clearly-written text, with essential facts highlighted in colored print, will work well for readers later elementary age on up.  A more playful overview of marsupials is Expecting Joeysavailable in What to Expect When You’re Expecting Joeys: A Guide for Marsupial Parents (and Curious Kids) (2012).  Readers of all ages will appreciate the expressive features of illustrator Stephane Jorisch’s cartoon-like illustrations, but—while some readers will enjoy author Bridget Heos’ word play and jokes—other readers may find her wording at times too A for Animals“cute.”  Both books provide more information about well-known Australian animals, those spotlighted in wildfire news, than author/illustrator Frane Lessac’s A is for Australian Animals (2017).  That colorful alphabet book—showing creatures in their natural habitats—is a better choice for readers wanting to know about the breadth and location of the continent’s species.

rooBig Red Kangaroo (2013), written by Claire Saxby and illustrated by Grahame Byrne, personalizes the typical experiences of this largest, widespread kangaroo species through the life of a fictional male called “Red.”   I really enjoyed Saxby’s lyrical language—for instance, when these nocturnal creatures wake up “the night orchestra begins.”  I also appreciated how she supplements this account of Red and his family’s experiences page-by-page with italicized factual information.  Byrne’s somewhat abstract, roo2somberly colored charcoal illustrations, appropriate for their nighttime setting, convey emotions through animal body language and features. Byrne makes consistent, effective use of double page spreads to dramatize and give context to the details Saxby describes.  Readers see and understand more about the animal lives disrupted or cut short by wildfires, in Australia known as bushfires.

FriesSimilarly, as author/illustrator Brian Fies writes in the Afterword to his graphic novel A Fire Story (2019), his book is about not just his family’s experiences but those of “thousands of people who lost everything, and hundreds of thousands who were affected less directly but still traumatically.” The firestorm described in this memoir took place in Northern California on October 9, 2017.  Fies, a professional cartoonist, coped at first by hand-drawing his impressions in a much shorter, 18 page version of A Fire Story, posting this online on October 13 and 15, 2017.  It immediately went viral.  It was even made into an animated video by Fies’ local public TV station.  Readers will be intrigued to see how the  original, powerful web comic, reproduced in the Afterward, has been only slightly altered but significantly expanded in the recently published 140 page edition.

fire-story-p017Teens on up will best appreciate this memoir, with its emphasis on the firestorm’s impact on adults and families with young adult children.  Fies includes the experiences of five other individuals or families, some poor or wealthy, as well as his own middle-class household.  Beginning with the dramatic announcement, “On Monday, My House Disappeared,” Fies uses color to highlight the different stages and impacts of the fire storm.  Physical destruction is coded orange or red, while immediate emotional trauma appears against yellow backgrounds.  Dealing with the frustrating paperwork and hard choices in subsequent weeks and months is often signaled by blue.  How does one cope firestory9with the loss of a lifetime of photographs and memorabilia? Fies effectively uses lists to bullet point such information, while overhead shots are one of the many effective visual techniques he employs to show the scope of the fire and its resulting physical confusion.  Another technique highlighting significant moments or realizations is the centering of just one image on a panel-free page.  The few photographs scattered throughout the book are effective codas, highlighting how insightful and dramatic the drawn narrative is, belying any assumptions about Fies’ cartoonish drawing style.  The faces here show anger and anguish, impatience and annoyance.  

There is as well, though, humor in A Fire Story, sometimes rueful or bitter, as Fies and others deal with the unrealistic “help” offered by well-meaning people and the fies faceignorance some officials display.  Sometimes, Fies even laughs at himself, as his own expectations change.  There is also warmth and hope here, as Fries depicts his young adult children stepping in to help their parents and the kindness offered by both by neighbors and strangers from nearby communities.  A Fire Story ends hopefully, with its author standing on bare ground, near burned tree stumps, watching his new home about to be built.  In a boxed aside, he notes “Even if you lose the place and the stuff, home can still be the memory and hope and promise of those things.”  The facing, final page visually confirms this realization, containing as it does only a centered image of flowers blossoming out of dirt.

worldImpressed by A Fire Story, I now intend to catch up with Brian Fies’ earlier  graphic books: the award-winning memoir Mom’s Cancer (2005;2006) and the award-nominated Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow? (2012), centered on ideas spawned at world fairs from 1939 onward.  Having enjoyed Big Red Kangaroo so much, I will also be on the look-out for Claire Saxby and Graham Byrne’s other collaboration on Australian animals, Emu (2015; 2016).  First, though, I shall probably catch up with an early work by Greg Egan, one of my favorite nonfiction prose writers.  His The Big big burnBurn: Teddy Roosevelt and the Fire That Saved America (2009) describing that president’s establishment of the National Park system is a tonic I need right now, as we face the conflagration that is President Trump’s impeachment and presidency.  I need that reminder that disaster can be followed by restorative and transformative public policy.





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