Norman the Doorman by Don Freeman

Don Freeman wrote many picture books, but he is probably best known for his books about Corduroy, the stuffed bear that belongs to a girl named Lisa. My children enjoyed the Corduroy stories, but perhaps their favorite book by Don Freeman was this one, Norman the Doorman.

Norman is a mouse who lives in the basement of the Majestic Museum of Art. He stands daily in front of a “small, well-hidden hole” and welcomes all of the art-loving mice visitors who come to the museum to see the treasures kept in the basement. Norman also acts as a guide, pointing out and explaining the artwork to cousins and strangers alike. And finally, Norman protects his art patrons from the sharp-eyed upstairs guard (human) by preemptively springing all of the traps and by keeping a sharp eye out himself for the guard and his flashlight.

The story goes on to tell of Norman’s artistic aspirations and of how he manages to enter a sculpture competition even though he’s much tinier than all of the other entrants. Norman is just an endearing and humble little mouse with a good lesson to teach the rest of us. “Each night after work he tried to create something pleasing or beautiful—perhaps a painting of Swiss cheese and crackers, or a statue.” Now, what if we all tried to create something pleasing or beautiful each day?

Don Freeman’s illustrations for his story are pleasing and beautiful themselves. Watercolor pencil drawings make Norman and his adventures as well as scenes from the museum itself a lovely sight to behold. In addition, since one of Norman’s art pieces is a sculpture made of wire, this book might be a good introduction for younger children to the idea of sculpture and mobiles. You might even want to have some wires or or pipe cleaners or other sculpting materials on hand to work with after reading Norman the Doorman. (Another book about making things out of wire is Galimoto by Karen Lynn Williams.)

Katy No-Pocket by Emmy Payne

Katy No-Pocket is a simple book about a kangaroo with no pocket who tries to find a way to carry her baby by observing all the other animals and how they solve this perennial problem. In the end, Katy meets a kind man who generously helps her to solve her problem.

I say, simple, but it’s sort of deceptively simple since the themes of kindness and ingenuity and persistence in solving problems are themes that could be discussed and taken to heart by everyone from preschoolers to grown-ups. Katy is a really a disabled kangaroo, with no pocket, but she finds a way to replace her missing pocket with something that works even better. In the same way, isn’t it possible for all of us to work around our limitations, in many instances with the help of a kind friend or two, and perhaps learn to do what we thought we couldn’t? I like this story for many reasons, but especially for its message of hope and kindness.

The illustrations for Katy No-Pocket are by H.A. Rey, of Curious George fame. The cover of the book is yellow, and the pictures look a lot like the pictures of George the monkey and The Man with the Yellow Hat. Emmy Payne, aka Emily Govan West, is a good storyteller, and I can remember, in my youth, enjoying all the many Lookout Club mystery novels for middle grade readers that she and her mother Christine Noble Govan wrote and published.

Katy No-Pocket is a stand alone picture book, but it could be a good addition to the collection of Curious George lovers. You might want to have an apron or another garment with multiple pockets available for play after reading this book so that young readers can enjoy putting things in their own pockets. A Pocket for Corduroy by Don Freeman and The Big Green Pocketbook by Candice Ransome would be a good followup reads for this one.

Always Room for One More by Sorche Nic Leodhas

This Caldecott award-winning picture book does have some interesting illustrations. Basically, they’re done with black and white cross-hatch lines, with a splash of purple color on each page. I guess the purple alludes to the heather? Since the book is a retelling of a Scottish folk song?

Sorche Nic Leodhas, whose real name was LeClaire Gowans Alger, was an American librarian of Scottish extraction. Her father and grandfather handed down this folk song to her when she was a child, and she re-wrote it to make it a bit more friendly to American children, taking out some of the Scottish dialect and replacing it with more familiar English words. There’s still plenty of Scottish flavor and dialect left in the song as presented in this picture book, and there’s also a glossary in the back of the book to translate those Scottish words and phrases.

In the story song, householder Lachie MacLachlan welcomes all of the travelers who pass by his door to come in and rest a while, saying “There’s room galore! There’s room for one more! There’s always room for one more!” He welcomes so many visitors that his house, already full with Lachie and his wife and ten bairns, is literally filled to bursting, and everyone who’s enjoying the hospitality must decide what to do next when the house “with its but and its ben and its walls and its roof DINGED DOWN!” (Tumbled down)

So, this book is a folk song. I very much appreciate the printed music, also in the back of the book, for a suggested tune for this song, but what I’d really like to have is a video or recorded version online where I could listen to the song as it’s meant to be sung. This book is a little bit difficult to read aloud what with the unfamiliar words and the inconsistent rhythm of the song. I looked for a video version, but I couldn’t find one. I would suggest picking out the melody on the piano if you can before reading/singing the book aloud with a child. That would make it a lot more fun.

On a couple of review sites I checked, most people were not too fond of the illustration style in this little book, with pictures by Nonny Hogrogian. They are rather different, but a close look might inspire a child or an adult to try some of the same. I kind of enjoyed the style that Hogrogian chose, once I got used to it.

If you enjoy this picture book and the story it tells, you might like Sorche Nic Leodhas’s longer compilation of Scottish folk tales, Thistle and Thyme: Tales and Legends from Scotland. This folk tale anthology won a Newbery Honor in 1963, and it’s a good source for anyone interested investigating old Scottish tales or one’s own Scottish heritage.

The Wonder Smith and His Son, retold by Ella Young

The Gobán Saor was a highly skilled smith or architect in Irish history and legend.  Gobban Saer (Gobban the Builder) is a figure regarded in Irish traditional lore as an architect of the seventh century, and popularly canonized as St. Gobban. The Catholic Encyclopedia considers him historical and born at Turvey, on the Donabate peninsula in North County Dublin, about 560.

Wikipedia, Goban Saor

Ella Young, an Irish poet and mythologist and part of the literary revival in Ireland around the turn of the last century, took the myths and stories about Gubban Saor or Cullion the Smith aka Mananaun and rewrote them for children in this Newbery Honor book of 1928. The full title of the book is The Wondersmith and His Son: A Tale from the Golden Childhood of the World. The tales were fantastical and very odd to my ear, but maybe not so very child-like. I’m too used to my folklore in simple everyday language, pre-digested and probably dumbed down. This collection is written in highly poetical language, and the tales meander about without a clear meaning or plot or character arc.

The Gubbaun wandered at his own will, as the wind wanders. Every place seemed good to him, because his heart was happy.

p.31

On the morrow the Son of the Gubbaun rose in the whiteness of dawn. He put a linen robe on his body. He crowned himself with a chaplet of arbutus that had fruit and blossom. Barefooted he went three times around the Sacred Well, as the sun travels, stepping from East to West. Then he knelt and touched the waters with his forehead and the palms of his hands.

p.109

Tulkinna the Peerless one stepped forward. He had nine golden apples and nine feathers of white silver and nine discs of findruiney. He tossed them up: they leaped like a plume of sea-spray, they shone like the wind-stirred flame, they whirled like leaves rising and falling. He wove them into patterns. They danced like gauze-winged flies on a summer’s eve. They gyrated like motes of dust. They tangled the mind in a web of light and darkness till at last it seemed that Tulkinna was tossing the stars.

The Gubbaun’s Feast, p.168

Perhaps it would be fun to read these tales aloud to a group of children and see just what they make of them. I’m baffled, befuddled, and bewildered, although I do catch some moments of beauty in the midst of the confusion. If you are of Irish extraction or just interested in myths and folktales and hero tales, you might enjoy trying to make sense of these stories. I read for plot, meaning, and characters, with a nod to language along the way. Therefore, I had to force myself to finish this translation and retelling of old Gaelic tales.

The pictures by Boris Artzybasheff, a Caldecott honor winner in 1938 for his illustrations for the tale Seven Simeons, are fittingly odd themselves. They’re black and white woodcut-looking pen and ink drawings with lots of Celtic knots and strangely writhing creatures and illuminated letters at the beginning of each tale. I thought they were . . . interesting and perhaps would bear closer examination if I were interested enough in the stories themselves to try to match illustration to prose.

Young ends her introduction to this storybook with the wish: “I would wish to have for this book the goodwill of Ireland and of America.” She has my goodwill, but not my further interest, unless someone else can explain them or simplify them enough for them to make sense to me. Your mileage may vary.

The Runaway Robot by Lester Del Rey

The Runaway Robot by prolific science fiction author Lester Del Ray uses simple language to tell the not-as-simple story of a boy and his robot. Maybe in this current political environment I’m just thinking more about enslavement and its underlying causes and effects, but this book definitely made me think about the relationship between a human and his animal pet as well as a human and another human who is enslaved to him.

Rex, the robot of the title, is something between human and pet. He is man-made, owned by the boy Paul, and given to Paul as a companion and guardian. Rex has no human rights and few human privileges. Rex is often unable to understand the things that he has been programmed to do. He has no curiosity, only “a limited capacity to inquire into unforeseeable conditions in order to avoid destruction.” Rex doesn’t grow in his abilities or his understanding. He is what he is programmed to be. Or is he?

After all, I was only a robot. I wasn’t a human even if I did feel like one sometimes. At least I thought that what I felt must have been somewhat the same as human emotions.

The Runaway Robot, p. 27

Paul, however, is human. He’s sixteen years old, but this book was published in 1965 and Paul acts more like a twelve year old. When Rex and Paul are told that Paul’s family is returning to Earth from the colony on Ganymede (Jupiter’s moon) where they have lived all of Paul’s life, but that Rex can’t go with them, Paul rebels. And somehow, a bit of that rebellion infects Rex, too, and the two friends run away together. As Paul and Rex journey together through the solar system, stowaways, runaways, fugitives, and partners-in-crime, Rex becomes, like Pinocchio, something like a Real Boy.

The story, although exciting and just fun, brings up ethical and political issues that will make children and adults think. What is the value of fulfillment in a job or career? What is the line between stealing and borrowing? And most of all, can a sentient and feeling being be owned by another? What is the line between humans and animal or human and thinking robot? Are we going to have to deal with this last ethical question in a very real way as robots become more and more human-like, and humans make more and more use of robotics and computers to enhance and even replace their own abilities? Can a robot be human? I’d say no. Can a human become robotic? The jury’s still out on that.

The Boundary Riders by Joan Phipson

Jane, age 13, and her brother Bobby, age 11, go with their cousin Vincent, age 15, to ride the boundary fence of their family’s property in the wild and rough country of central New South Wales. Their job is to check the fence for breaks, fix what simple things they can, and mark the places that need more extensive repairs. The job will take several days, and the three young people are excited to be entrusted with such a responsibility and given freedom to camp and ride on their own for up to a week.

Of course, trouble overtakes the trio, both unavoidable trouble and some of their own making. The central character and theme of the story are Bobby and his emergence into leadership and maturity over the course of the children’s adventure. Bobby, who grows up to become Robert by the end of the book, is “thin, freckled, and silent”, “not a boy that motherly ladies longed to cuddle, nor had he ever been.” His gaze is described as “remote and calculating”, and he is said to be “accustomed to working out his own problems”, “not ungenerous and no fool.”

Vincent and Jane, on the other hand, are more gregarious, cheerful, and friendly. They are the sort of children, or teens, that adults trust, and Jane looks up to Vincent with a sort of hero-worship that she could never give to her younger brother. It was fascinating and quite true-to-life to see how the dynamics between these three change over the course of their very dangerous and challenging adventure in the wild outback of Australia.

I have read several other children’s books by Australian authors, set in Australia, or said to be characteristic of Australian children’s literature:

I can recommend all of the above books. But from now on for children or adults who are asking for one book set in Australia to give them a taste of that continent and country, I will be recommending The Boundary Riders. I would like to read more of Ms Phipson’s books, especially her two books Good Luck to the Rider and The Family Conspiracy, both of which won the Australian Children’s Book of the Year Award. Maybe those will become go-to recommendations as well.

Curious George by H.A. and Margret Rey

Who in the world has not heard of George, the curious monkey? Curious George, who lives with the Man With the Yellow Hat, when George is not living at the zoo. Curious George, who always manages to get himself into a pickle wherever he goes. Curious George, who acts just like an inquisitive four year old and thereby continues to endear himself to succeeding generations of children, ages four to eighty-four.

Hans and Margret Rey were a German Jewish couple who escaped from the Nazi takeover of Paris on a couple of bicycles to the Spanish border, then a train to Lisbon, and a boat to Brazil. They eventually came to the United States, bringing George’s manuscript with them. Despite the attribution of the books to Hans alone, Margret and Hans wrote and illustrated the seven original books about Curious George together, and together they found a publisher.

Curious George was published by Houghton Mifflin in 1941, and for sixty years these books have been capturing the hearts and minds of readers throughout the world. All the Curious George books, including the seven original stories by Margret and Hans, have sold more than twenty-five million copies. So popular that his original story has never been out of print, George has become one of the most beloved and recognizable characters in children’s literature. His adventures have been translated into many languages, including Japanese, French, Afrikaans, Portuguese, Swedish, German, Chinese, Danish, and Norwegian.”

~Curious About George? Houghton Mifflin publishers website

Hans and Margret wrote and illustrated seven stories about Curious George:

  • Curious George (1941)
  • Curious George Takes a Job (1947)
  • Curious George Rides a Bike (1952)
  • Curious George Gets a Medal (1957)
  • Curious George Flies a Kite (1958)
  • Curious George Learns the Alphabet (1963)
  • Curious George Goes to the Hospital (1966)

These seven have been joined by a multitude of “new adventures”, paperback editions, board books, television series, movies, translations, video games, toys, games, and other merchandise–all showcasing (or exploiting) the beloved character of George the monkey. Someone (The Rey family? Houghton Mifflin?) has made a lot of money from George.

I have looked at some of the spin-off books and videos featuring Curious George, but I continue to believe that the original seven books were and remain the classic and essential Curious George canon of living books. The rest are mostly harmless twaddle, but certainly not up to the standards of the first seven books.

In the first book we meet our monkey friend when The Man With the Yellow Hat captures George in a sack and takes him from the jungle in Africa to “a big city.” I always thought of the big city as New York City, but like The Man With the Yellow Hat, the city is never explicitly named. The capture of George, made possible by his curiosity about the yellow hat, feels a bit like kidnapping and enslavement to the 21st century reader, but we are told that “George was sad, but he was still a little curious.” Although George faces near-drowning, imprisonment, danger, and a life of crime, all as a result of his insatiable curiosity, all’s well that ends well, and George goes on to live happily through many more adventures in the succeeding six books.

When Curious George Takes a Job, George escapes from his home at the zoo (again), and goes through a series of jobs, mostly ended by his continued inattention and impulsive curiosity. Eventually, George ends up in the hospital where he gets into more trouble. But The Man With the Yellow Hat finds him and takes him to a movie studio to make a movie of his life, and again George survives and thrives.

In Curious George Rides a Bike, George learns to ride a bicycle, of course, but he also manages to deliver newspapers, make and sail paper boats, ride a unicycle, play a bugle, and rescue a bear in danger. Some of these learning experiences are interrupted by George’s curiosity and naughtiness, but George is hailed as a hero in the end.

In the next book, Curious George Gets a Medal, George creates a mess and a flood and while trying to clean that up he makes an even bigger mess until he runs away to the museum. There, he gets into more trouble, but he has the opportunity to make it all right when he’s asked to fly in a rocket to become the first monkey in space. George is a hero, and The Man tells him that “the whole world is proud of you today.”

Curious George Flies a Kite was written with a “restricted vocabulary of only 219 words.” Margret Rey said later that this controlled vocabulary idea was a fad and a mistake, but that luckily the children didn’t notice that George had been dumbed down, so to speak. George gets carried off by his new kite, but he eventually returns home safely as usual.

In Curious George Learns the Alphabet, George learns to read books instead of tearing them up, and he is finally given doughnuts as a reward for his hard work in learning the alphabet. George plays tricks and monkeyshines, throughout the story, but he does learn to read and write the alphabet.

The final story in the original series of Curious George books is Curious George Goes to the Hospital. Written at the instigation of and in collaboration with the Children’s Hospital Medical Center in Boston, this book has George going to the hospital after he eats a jigsaw puzzle piece and gets a tummy-ache. George gets an X-ray and a shot, anesthesia and an operation, but he recovers well and manages to cheer up the other sick children with his mischievous tricks. And George even meets the mayor.

Of these seven books, the first three and the last one are my favorites and are the most engaging of the seven. Nevertheless, all seven are worth reading; they all wear well. George, like Big Bird of Sesame Street, is the eternal four year old who is always getting into scrapes, but always endearing and lovable throughout.

The Summer Night by Charlotte Zolotow

Father’s Day is coming soon, and you can find a good list of Picture Books to Celebrate Father’s Day at Biblioguides. Some of these—What Mary Jo Shared, Owl Moon, Knuffle Bunny—are favorites of mine, too. Others are new to me. But one of the books that is on my Father’s Day list, and also on the Biblioguides list, is this one by Charlotte Zolotow, who also happens to be one of my favorite picture book authors.

In The Summer Night, it’s bedtime and the little girl’s father has put her to bed after taking care of her all day, but the little girl isn’t sleepy. She asks for various things: a drink of water, an apple, an open window. Her father patiently and kindly gives the little girl all that she asks for and more: a story, a song, and finally a walk outside together in the nighttime. The little girl and her father explore the night together, return home, and then after another snack and a kiss, the little girl finally falls asleep as the owl hoots outside her window.

Reminiscent of Yolen’s Owl Moon as far as plot is concerned, The Summer Night is simpler and of course, more summery, than Owl Moon, which takes place on a winter night as a boy and his father go for a walk in the snow. The little girl and her father obviously have a loving relationship, and I can see this book becoming a favorite bedtime story for some children. Buyer beware, however, your child may want to go on a nighttime walk after reading this story. I want to go on a nighttime walk after reading this story!

Originally titled The Night When Mother Was Away and illustrated by Reisie Lonette in 1958, The Summer Night was republished with its new title and given new watercolor illustrations by Ben Schecter in 1974. Mother is never mentioned at all in the 1974 version of the book, and Biblioguides says that the text has been changed in the reprint edition. The story in 1974 and after simply begins, “The little girl’s father took care of her all day.”

Robert the Rose Horse by Joan Heilbroner

A classic easy reader, first published in 1961, Robert the Rose Horse features faithful, hard-working Robert, a horse who has an unfortunate allergy to roses. When Robert’s allergy, and the mighty sneezes that result from it, wreak havoc in one job, persistent Robert moves on to another job, trying to find his place in the world. Finally, of course, Robert’s sneezes save the day, foiling a bank robbery and making Robert an Allergic Hero.

I honestly don’t know what it is about this story that makes it so appealing. I might credit nostalgia since I first read about Robert back when I was an emerging reader over fifty years ago. However, I have had several library patrons, emerging readers of the twenty-first century, fall in love with Robert, too. Maybe the illustrations by P.D. Eastman, of Go Dog Go and Are You My Mother? fame, add just the right touch of whimsy and humor to the story. Or perhaps the theme of turning a liability into a super-power is a part of the attraction.

Joan Heilbroner said she got the idea for her story from observations of daily life. “‘I got the idea for Robert the Rose Horse because Fidel Castro was in town,’ she recalls, ‘and there were police horses all over the city. That has nothing to do with my story, but the horses were the trigger.”’ (Publishers Weekly) Robert the Rose Horse was Joan Heilbroner’s first book, and it was acquired and published by Dr. Seuss (Ted Geisel) when he was editor of Beginner Books at Random House. Ms. Heilbroner was a school librarian, so maybe she just knew what would make those first and second graders smile. The Random House website says that Robert the Rose Horse has been in print for over fifty years. I’d say that kind of longevity qualifies it as a classic.

A couple of weird footnotes to this story: some of the copies of Robert the Rose Horse have a blue cover like the picture above, and others are red, like roses? I’m not sure why the color variation. And some people have complained that the robbers and the policemen who are chasing them all carry guns in the illustrations. Whatever.

Greyfriars Bobby by Eleanor Atkinson

Greyfriars Bobby is set in Edinburgh, surprisingly a place which Eleanor Atkinson never visited. A vivid, heart-warming animal story, based on a true account, Greyfriars Bobby tells of a devoted Skye terrier, who stays faithfully by his master, even after death.

Introduction, Greyfriars Bobby, Penguin Popular Classics

Just for fun, I’m reading books this year from my library and elsewhere whose authors’ names begin with A. Greyfriars Bobby was a book I acquired somewhere(?), and I only knew it was a dog story. I’m not much of an animal person, so I wasn’t sure I would enjoy the story very much. But I thought I’d give it a try.

Well, I do recommend the book quite highly—with a couple of caveats. For those of you who don’t mind spoilers, the dog does NOT die, until the very end of the story when he has attained a good life and a good old age, for a dog. There is another heart-rending death, though, within the first few chapters of the book, the death of an old man, not of the dog. So, reader beware.

Also, the dialog in the book is almost all in Scottish dialect. My copy had some helpful footnotes that translated some of the Scottish words and phrases: inglenuek, ilka, nicht, siller, sonsie, leal, fule. But other terms were left to the reader to puzzle out. It would be hard going for anyone who was totally unfamiliar with the language of Scotland.

Still, I think the story is well worth the trauma and the language detective work. Greyfriars Bobby is a little dog, or a “bit dog” as the men call him in the book, but he has a big personality and a winning charm. After the death of his master, Bobby becomes a dog-about-Edinburgh, a dog with no master. He’s also a dog with a mission, a mission he stays faithful to for the rest of his natural life.

The book would make a good read aloud for the whole family. It was supposedly written for adults, but children would enjoy it with a little help from an adult reader with the dialect and the somewhat ornate and antiquated language. I think families with some Scots heritage would especially take to the story and would get a taste of Edinburgh and its history as well. Also, if you’re at all interested in dog stories that are heroic, not tragic . . .

Greyfriars Bobby (May 4, 1855 – January 14, 1872) was a Skye Terrier who became known in 19th-century Edinburgh for spending 14 years guarding the grave of his owner until he died himself on 14 January 1872. The story continues to be well known in Scotland, through several books and films. A prominent commemorative statue and nearby graves are a tourist attraction.

from Wikipedia

There’s also a picture book by Ruth Brown that tells an abbreviated version of the story of Greyfriars Bobby. And there are at least a couple of movies based on Bobby’s story, one by Disney. Take your pick, but I’d suggest at least trying Atkinson’s novel first, as long as you’re ready for a full length dog novel.