Welcome to WhatFredRead, a blog for people looking for recommendations, reviews and celebration of books for young children.
I am the mum of four young children and I have a passion for children's literature. This blog is my new year's resolution, to share our daily reads.
WhatFredRead is brought to you by 30-something me and my trusted panel of critics aged 7,5,3 &1.
Author and Illustrator: David Wiesner Publisher: Andersen Press, 2012, first published by Clarion Books, 2006 I can't put this book down, and I keep putting off it's inevitable return to the library. It's made it to my 'books to buy' list, and thus to this blog. A wordless book that tells a gripping story, this masterpiece of modern children's fiction, nay, art, is captivating. When an inquisitive boy finds a barnacle encrusted and battered old camera washed up on the beach, he runs to a 24 hour reprographics shop to develop the film inside the camera case. To his surprise the photographic film shows a whole underwater world, portrayed by Wiesner in these delightfully surreal watercolours that raised curious eyebrows with my children. The story then takes another inexplicable turn, as the developed photos reveal that the camera has been found many times before, bearing a photo in a photo in a photo. Now determined to add himself for posterity, the boy sets up his old fashioned selfie on the sand, with the waves crashing behind him, ready to reclaim the camera.
While the story is beautiful, taking many exciting and unexpected twists and turns, the pictures that tell of this enchantment are simply enthralling. Deep, detailed, shadow rich, colour rich, sumptuous. My daughter literally tried to reach into the page to inspect the turtles.
This is the sort of book that I normally pick up sceptically thinking 'all style and no substance' but with Flotsam, far from it, I was truly taken. The book says a huge amount, wordlessly. Much respect to David Weisner, I'll look out for more books by him.
Author and Illustrator: Rachel Bright Publisher: HarperCollins Children's Books, 2012 You can't help but smile as you read Love Monster; it has wit and charm in equal measure, and dips in and out of first, second and third person, addressing and positioning the audience in a way that feels quiet original and fun for this age children's lit. My daughter (3) certainly likes the directed sympathy for poor 'funny-looking' monster, with 'This is a monster' (hello, monster) leading her to wave frantically at the page as the book opens. The book has a sardonic narrative, a monster (incidentally very cute looking itself in illustration, with teddy under his arm), finding it hard to fit in within a 'world of cute, fluffy things.' Monster has had enough of being shunned so decides to 'set out and find someone who'll love him, just the way he was.' Unravelling then, as a classic British underdog story for preschoolers, monster endures a tough and fruitless journey on the search for this true love. Just as he gives up, as the well known narrative goes, when life has beaten him down so low, monster finds his love, 'just when he was least expecting. '
The book is funny on many levels, from the serendipitous twist in the storyline, to the inconsequential moments in the illustrations, pencil behind monster's ear, all very clever. The hyperbolic cartoon-like incidents, such as the rain cloud exacting over monster's head, monster's downcast eyes and list of crossed off preposition orientated places to search for love, 'high, low, middleish' etc, make this a real chuckling treat to read as a parent. Children seem to cope with the more abstract or knowledge dependent humour in the book quite well, so for example, my daughter understands that the monster mistakes a new person for a costume in shop, his shadow and his reflection in the water, quite readily. She's less au fair with the tongue-in-cheek names for places, such as 'Cutesville', and so some aspects of the book are going over her head (but there's no harm in this, they're just adult jokes, parent pleasers).
Stylistically, funky typefont used, simple illustrations, big brassy backgrounds, even some filmic conventions, such as the close up of monster searching the letterbox in a classic body fragmentation shot...very funny for us film buffs. Simple storytelling voice and plenty of colloquial, so for example, 'having lost all his umpf', which makes the book very endearing and pleasurable, amusing to read. All in all, a lovely, fun, uplifting book for bedtime.
Author and Illustrator: Susan Varley Publisher: Collins Picture Lions, HarperCollins, 1984,edition featured 1992 This children's picturebook is a gentle, honest book about death, and coming to terms with grief. There's a sensible narrative about an old badger, quietly preparing himself for parting by readying a letter to his friends. Badger is presented as happy, ready and willing to pass away, watching his friends Frog and Mole run spiritly down a hill, while he feels old and tired. Full of appropriate simple adjectives about aging, the book steers away from gloominess, though at the same time is open about the grief that those left behind then feel.
The death 'scene' itself describes badger 'falling out his body' and running down a long tunnel, which, while somewhat cliched, is a useful, comprehendable anology for young children. One of Badger's friends, Mole, takes the news of Badger's death, harder than the others. Winter then sets in, passing into spring, which is a nice way of indicating to children that an amount of time suspended in this sadness has passed. The creatures then individually have memories of Badger teaching them to do things, so Mole remembers Badger teaching him how to make a paper chain, Frog remembers Badger teaching him to ice skate for example. These memories and teachings are of course, 'Badger's parting gifts', and the book ends with Mole on a warm spring day, on the hillside, looking up at the sky and thanking Badger for these gifts ( and we're reassured that Badger can hear him).
Sensitive and warm then, the narrative is reassuring rather than worrying and dwelling. Yes, there are slightly sugary moments of cliche, tunnels, clouds, seasonal change and the illustrations are soft and floaty, ink and water colour, not necessarily memorable. But all in all quite a helpful book for illiciting thoughts on death, discussion about death with preschoolers and young children.
Based on The Railway Series by the Rev.W.Awdry Illustrations: Robin Davies Publisher: Egmont, 2010
I'm afraid I don't have the will power to write much; I've included this title on my 'celebration' of Children's Literature blog under duress! I thought my days of having to read titles from this cheap and dull modernisation of The Thomas the Tank Engine series were over, but then tonight, George, my toddler, came bounding in with 'Thomas!' (the generic name for all engine related literature). What I can say in the series' favour though, each book is a guaranteed adult sleep inducer! These are the only books in British Literature that I am physically able to read, while mentally switching off. This state of 'reading auto pilot' has its benefits- its like having a nanny attend the children while you ( Internet ) shop- lovely! Another positive, from a scant supply here- this particular title , 'Hiro', is the very best of a very bad bunch. Hiro is a less precocious snotty engine than all the others, and brings a bit of the vulnerable and mystique to Thomasland (oh sorry, that's just the up-selling theme park, I mean The Isle of Sodor.) Other notable points, for when your toddler inevitably navigates to these depressingly formulaic Egmont books, the written text is big and clear (so hard to conveniently 'loose your place' and skip once the child can read themselves). The illustrations are notable for the ridiculously sinister expressions, the picture of alarm on the faces of Annie and Clarabel get my toddler going every time, other than that, dull - cheapo computer graphics I think. I think the extensive 50 book series could always double up as a 'baby names' book box set if all else fails, as traditional PC mid 1990s names will surely make a come back again soon, surely?! My particular favourite crowd pleasers are Jack, Spencer and Harvey - surprise surprise, I don't recall the stories! And as for Thomas himself, I'm so fed up with him gloating, and being all saccharine. I wish he'd gone off on the wrong track, discovered Hiro and then got himself lost for all eternity in a siding. But turning back to Hiro, 'The Master of the Railway' as he's described over and over in this edition, how can such cultural stereotypes not be condoned? I doubt the Rev W Awdry would approve; I had the misfournate of reading the vintage editions of these...not enough stuffy pomp for his eyes I feel! Yawn, yawn.
This is the most enjoyable chapter book I've read to my 5 and 7 year olds at bedtime so far. I read this to myself aged about ten, and recall moments of the BBC serialisation, but reading The Queen's Nose back to my children confirmed to me that this book has a real charm. It's well-paced, with chapters roughly ten pages long and some gripping cliff -hangers. Most notable is when protagonist, Harmony Parker, is cycling at speed toward a junction and doesn't see the sign. Gripping! My children kept asking all day, what might happen next. We looked forward to reading every chapter, a great accolade with children so young.
The story starts by introducing school girl Harmony, whom we quickly learn is creative, thoughtful, and at odds with her family. Harmony imagines all the people around her as having animals personas, so her sister Melody, for example, is a self obsessed showy
Siamese cat, she sees her mother as a fussy pecking Pouter Pigeon and her father as a busy performing Sea Lion. This proved a great plot device, with the children both trying to fathom which animals their teachers might be. Dick King-Smith packs his work full of rich description, particularly with regard to personalities, so inadvertently much improving my children's' vocabulary and desire to observe the world, and people around them.
In the story, Harmony feels lonely, and yearns for a pet. She spends a lot of time alone, thinking, talking to her stuffed toys and the chickens in their coop in her garden. One day, bringing great excitement, her Uncle Ginger comes to stay ( she views him as a vivacious Grizzly Bear). Having built a mutual relationship, Ginger then has to return home, and on living Harmony, wraps her up a parting gift, a 50p piece that grants wishes once rubbed. So far, a sort of Alladin story, without the lantern.
The build up to receiving the magic coin is suspense filled, with Harmony having to complete a treasure hunt, and then work out how to use the coin, followed by more complex problem solving, that really carries the reader, such as how and when should Harmony spend her wishes. Harmony has seven wishes in total; although her wishes are continuously fulfilled, she learns many important lessons through making her decisions. She learns not to be rash, to prioritise those she loves, to be grateful for what she has, to see the good in people ( rather than all their negative qualities) and most importantly, she learns to keep dreaming, and believe and trust in others; fantastically humanistic messages in this hostile ideological age.
When reading this book my children were really able to empathethise with how main character, Harmony, felt, as her dreams and wishes were well pitched and resembled 'real' children fairly universally. Harmony requests a pet rabbit, a bike, a watch and time off school. The adage 'be careful what you wish for' hungs in the air each time, as the wishes backfire to different extents due to Harmony's misguided management of the situation. Harmony tries hard though, and diverts disaster by thinking of others, leading to a happy ending and the interesting question as to whether these events would have transpired anyway. With new confidence now, Harmony decides to give the coin away, tossing up on Wimbledon Common for the next person to find. My sons, Alf and Bert, loved this ending, wanting to immediately go searching for the coin. The only problem I found with the book, related to this, was that the coin described has been out of general circulation for some years, so unless we go hunting around in antique fairs, I don't expect we'll stumble on the 'real' coin any time soon. Though this might be a good thing. An inspiring, exciting read, ideal for reading to siblings as there were many talking points about the sibling relationship in the book discussed. I think we'll return to reading this again fondly in a few years, it was a big success.
What an exciting library find. Bold, brassy illustrations and a story that defied our expectations, a fantastic picturebook.
Edie (nearly 4) was drawn to this book on the library shelf based on the bright pink cover (sigh!). Yet another princess book I thought; it looked a bit like The Little Princess: I Want my Potty by Tony Ross, 1986, which is no bad thing, but seen it all before (the bratty princess narrative, doting parents, does something wrong, reforms, but is still a bit bratty at the end, because we wouldn't completely want them to reform...or would we?). Whatever Wanda Wanted looks to fit this model initially, and then a shift in the story happens when spoilt, obnoxious, precocious and rude Wanda demands a kite from an magically appearing shop.
Ignoring the warning of the salesman (who's sporting a 70s style tunic and gottee) Wanda takes the kite and is blown away to a desert island. This was quite an exciting extreme twist from the usual half-mistakes made by other bratty princess types (The Little Princess, Peppa Pig, Little Miss stories etc).
The abstract magical realism style illustrations should have really alerted me to the bizarre turn the book might take from the start, with the mix of crayon, pastel and collage producing this super garish and bold page set.The visuals in this book certainly look and feel very original, again, refreshing.
And so for the twist: Wanda lands on a desert island wailing and complaining about her lack of possessions, especially the lack of access to television. (we liked the dry humour here). So she has a cry, then stands up declaring 'I WILL SURVIVE.' Wanda's own ingenuity and self-drive mean she finds food, shelter and clothing, and she grows 'to love her new life.' (what a turn around: an anti materialism, pro-feminist message!) After making friends with a convenient- plot- device- whale, she catching a ride on the whale's back to return home. On her arrival home her parents are delighted to see Wanda, but have had to sell all their belongings in order to pay for her search party. Wanda assures her parents that she'll be able to knock them up some new furniture, decreeing 'there's more to life than things!' And then to raise the strong independent woman rhetoric a little higher still, the closing page of the book sees Wanda giving lectures on survival skills and the 'the Beginning' positively reinforced.
As with Princess Smartypants and The Worst Princess I personally like this brand of post-feminist children's literature to counterbalance 'The Disney princess' (though having recently seen Moana...
...I'm pleased that there seems to be a wider shift in the sand toward rolling out this representation of strong, independent women with more consistency, sincerity and scope anyway).
Whatever Wanda Wanted is a great, empowering pre-schooler read, also enjoyed by my KS1 aged son. Recommended target age then 3-6 years.
And just as an add on, another library find from last week, The Princess and the Dragon by Audrey Wood is also worth a look, again inverting the conventional gender stereotypes. A disruptive, misbehaving princess swaps place with a passive, effeminate dragon, and with the princess and the dragon maintaining the swap at the end, thumbs up for finding true happiness.
Author and Illustrator: Emma Dodd Publisher: Templar Publishing, 2010 as a free edition Bookstart book The Templar Publishing books by Emma Dodd (in hardback) are the perfect books to give to new parents (titles include You..., Sometimes... and When..., and as above, Me...), and more importantly I think, as there's a real dearth in books for this market, they're perfect books for 'newly placed' adoptees (and as presents for new adoptive parents). Why? because these books espouse a rhetoric of unconditional love, a wholly important message for all young children, but adoptees especially, as feeling safe, secure and loved is a huge part of attachment building. What is particularly interesting about the messages in these books, are that the protagonists (generally a young animal, so for example, in Me..., it's a penguin chick) are not 'straightforward' . In Me... the baby penguin is feels very small and insignificant compared to his colony counterparts and the world around him; he says, 'the world is big, but I am small, and several incantations of this beat out throughout the book. At the end of the story he feels reassured, 'I may be small, but I can see, the biggest thing to you is me':
In Sometimes...a baby elephant is exploring the world, and occasionally he finds himself pitching his behaviour incorrectly, so squirting water and scaring flamingos away for example. While his behaviour is 'sometimes' a challenge, the parent elephant is always there, and loves him in the face of everything and for all of his behaviours. There's an acceptance here that the young are learning, and learning means making mistakes, and that consequently, it's okay to make mistakes. These messages of commitment, acceptance, love and security are important offerings to all children, but again, to vulnerable children foremost, no matter what their age.
Just as the latest Bookstart free book for children is launched (Every Bunny Dance) and entered our house via the library this week, I wanted to thank Bookstart especially for this previous title. Me...came out in 2010 and has been treasured in our house. Me... is a lovely, soothing bedtime read, very calming, quiet and sincere. These Emma Dodd books are prefect of young babies and toddlers, with the latter titles including texture on the pages, such as shiny silvery paper representing 'water' for the elephant to wallow in and spray. The illustrations are simple, with small colour palettes used and various artistry techniques (eg. What looks like sponging, crayon and collage to me (but I might be wrong), and these techniques give the illustrations depth and visual texture (particularly in setting the scene of this vast and frozen Antarctica in Me...).
To conclude, perfectly themed, attractive looking books to buy for friends and family on the birth or adoption of children. Highly recommended.
