Listen For Hope

Bells are used for signals, requests, music, warnings and demands.  Ringing wakes us as an alarm when it's time to get up each morning.  Bells begin and end the day at schools and factories. (Did you ever notice how the same sound changes in meaning at the start and end of the day?)  The sound of a bell can announce our presence as visitors.  It can indicate the need for  ourhelp as customers.  Bells come in all shapes and sizes and their purpose is as varied.

The ringing of a bell should never represent for any individual the beginning of another day as a slave. In The Bell Rang (A Caitlyn Dlouhy Book, Atheneum Books for Young Readers, January 15, 2019) written and illustrated by James E. Ransome we follow a family of slaves for eight days.  In those eight days there is a tragic sameness, astonishing strength and the glow of hope.

Monday
The bell rings,
and no sun in the sky.
Daddy gathers wood.
Mama cooks.
We eat.

As the child narrator, a young girl, continues, her parents and older brother each envelope her with affection; a hug, a kiss and a touch. They and the other slaves leave and walk to work in the fields as the overseer, riding on his horse, leads them.  All the younger children spend the day with Miss Sarah Mae.

On Tuesday the familial love is the same.  The backbreaking work continues.  The younger children play in safety.  Wednesday is different.

When Wednesday comes her brother Ben does not touch her or wave to her.  He kisses her on her check, hands her a doll he made from small twigs and fine cloth.  He whispers words in her ear before he joins his two friends, Joe and Little Sam.  All day the child and the doll, Miz Ida, are inseparable.

Sadness and cruelty fill the day on Thursday.  There is pain and tears and a gun in the overseer's hands.  Ben has run away with his friends, Joe and Little Sam.  Another day passes in sameness and silence.  On Saturday a shift settles over Daddy, Mama and their daughter.  A sudden arrival generates fear and more pain but also hope for one family.

On Sunday there is no bell.  Slaves gather to hear preaching down by the creek.  There are words, songs and prayers for freedom.  On Monday . . .


To measure this narrative through the days of the week James E. Ransome easily engages readers.  Those seven twenty-four hours periods mark all kinds of events universally for most people.  Using the same four sentences for most of the days does supply readers with a rhythm but also fashions a high contrast for those days when those phrases are not used or changed.  It allows us to feel the pain of loss, the pain of being left behind and the intense hope of freedom realized. With the younger sister as narrator we are deeply connected to this story.  Here is a passage after Ben has left.

Ben gone.
Joe and Little Sam all ran.
Mama cries
all the way to the field.
Daddy's face
looks all wrong
as he walks
with the other slaves.
Many with mad looks,
some with tears.


When we think of freedom many visual depictions come to mind.  Upon opening the dust jacket the blue-hued sky extends over the spine as does the darker golden yellow and rosy pink.  As our eyes move to the left, on the back, the rosy pink area is enlarged.  Two cabins, smoke curling from chimneys are shown there on a bit of green.  Another girl is running behind the two children shown on the front.  Surely children running without fear is a sign of freedom or the promise of freedom.

On the book case covered in a rich blue with a cloth spine is a single element.  In the upper, right-hand corner an embossed, foil swallow is in flight.  It is copper in color.

On the opening endpapers from the perspective of looking up we see a scene of daybreak sky in yellow, gray-blue and sky blue.  Clouds spread across a portion.  The bell is ringing.  Four swallows fly past.  On the closing endpaper higher in the clouds a single swallow flies against a vivid blue sky.  This is also the canvas of the Author's Note.

Rendered in acrylics the eloquent paintings of James E. Ransome summon understanding in readers.  From the ringing of the bell by the overseer on the initial title page to wood being chopped near a cabin with an extensive landscape in the background on the formal title page to the first intimate portrait of the family sitting in front of the fire eating their breakfast, we are taken back in time to another place.  The flow of the brush strokes, the use of light and reflected light, the gaze of the girl, the gentle touch of a brother's hand or the details in their dwelling all contribute to a near sensory experience for readers.

When featuring the parents in the morning or when they say good-bye to their daughter, James E. Ransome blends their actions as a partial overlay.  For many of the pictures they extend, page edge to page edge, on full pages.  Other images span two pages for emphasis.  Readers should take notice of the birds in flight over the gathered slaves on Sunday.

One of my many favorite illustrations is on a single page with a crisp white background.  It begins with Daddy and his arms wrapped about his daughter in a hug.  They are both smiling at each other.  Beneath this Mama is bending down to give her daughter a good-bye kiss on her forehead.  The father's left arm blends in with the mother's head and back.  It is a scene of love and strength.


You cannot read The Bell Rang written and illustrated by James E. Ransome without being deeply moved.  With each page turn the words and paintings take you into these eight days.  We get a real sense of family, the desire for freedom, the despair, fear and pain of enslavement and ultimately hope.  This book is highly recommendation for all collections, personal and professional.

To learn more about James E. Ransome, please follow the link attached to his name to access his website.  James E. Ransome maintains accounts on Facebook and Instagram.  At the publisher's website you can view interior images.

Not To Be Sold, Not To Be Purchased

The capacity for individuals to endure is never known until it is tested.  When we imagine a specific situation in which it's hard to believe anyone can survive but know millions did in historically-verified horrific conditions is cause for heartbreak and supreme admiration.  To read about the Middle Passage is to see humans at their very worst and to see greatness in others.

On September 13, 2016 a title was released which has garnered five starred reviews in School Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus, The Horn Book and Publishers Weekly.  It is a finalist for the Kirkus Prize.  Freedom over me: Eleven slaves, their lives and dreams brought to life by Ashley Bryan, esteemed author and illustrator, is a stunning work based upon a single original document, the Fairchilds Appraisement of the Estate dated July 5, 1828.

Mrs. Mary Fairchilds
I mourn the passing of
my husband, Cado Fairchilds.
He managed our estate alone.
Eleven Negro slaves,
they carried out the work
that made our estate prosper.
He never hired an overseer.

This is a portion of the initial poem in this collection introducing readers to the widow of the estate owner.  It is followed by twenty poems, also in free verse, acquainting us with the slaves.  For each of these people we are given their name and their value as seen on the appraisement.  Mr. Bryan has added what he believes to be their age based upon the words woman, girl, man and boy.

Of the eleven there are people ranging in age from sixty-two to eight. There are six women, one girl and four men, of these men one is sixteen.  With the exception of the child, for each of them a poem describes their position, their work on the estate, and a second piece allows us to see into their hearts through their dreams.

The first slave poem is titled Peggy.  She is the Fairchilds' cook working at the Big House.  She toils as long and hard as those people in the fields, preparing special foods for the Fairchilds, their friends and much plainer meals for the slaves. As their cook she is allowed to freely walk on the estate and nearby woods, learning the value of plants local to the area.  On these walks memories of her homeland, Africa, come to her.  Thoughts of the day she and her mother were captured and her father killed, the auction when she last saw her mother and the name given to her are vivi in her mind.  She does find strength in knowing she honors her family with her acquired skills.

In the second poem, Peggy dreams, she tells us of the naming day celebration when her parents gave her the name Mariama, Gift of God.  We learn of her room attached to the shed behind the Big House but we also learn of her determination to remain a vital part of the lives of the other slaves on the estate.  She teaches the slave child Dora all she can about the healing power of the plants.  To be able to pass on the knowledge she has acquired to another is a source of great happiness.  To heal another member of her "family" fills her heart more than the words of the Fairchilds and their guests about her cooking skills.

The praise, however,
that touches my heart
is to hear the slaves
call me Herb Doctor.

We become familiar with Stephen the carpenter, his gift for working with tools, his love for Jane and John and their secret.  Jane is the estate seamstress who returns her love to Stephen and John.  John tells us how when he was eight years old he was a birthday gift to Mrs. Fairchilds. He excels at artwork.  Athelia is the laundress who believes in her African traditions of passing on knowledge

by example and voice.

Charlotte, a basket maker, and Bacus, the blacksmith, are married in their hearts by "jumping the broom."  Their daughter is Dora.  The two parents weave and hammer their past and present into their work, teaching their daughter and talking of freedom.  With each page turn as readers we become more connected to the lives, the personalities, hopes and dreams, of eleven individuals.  They were and are people. People.


Each poem, written for us in first person, by the masterful Ashley Bryan takes us to that place, that time and into the lives of those slaves.  It's as if their spirits guided his every word giving us small journal entries into their lives. (He writes about his process in an author's note.)  But oh, make no mistake, in the two poems written by Bryan for each person, he gives us a whole picture.  They are as real as if they are living and breathing today.

He uses the pronoun "I" repeatedly to bring us closer to these people.  He has them speak about the outrage they feel at having new names given to them, the supreme sadness at the loss of family members, the hope of escaping to freedom, the fear of being sold but what shines the brightest is their resilience, their pride in their African homeland, traditions and in their work and skills.  There is so much love in these pages.  Here is another partial passage from Jane dreams.

At the estate,
weaving became my salvation.
Working with cloths
became the song
of my hands.

I have grown in artistry
through the clothes I create.
The praise I receive,
I offer as a tribute
to my ancestors.

Stephen and I
treat the young slave John
as our son.
We never lose hope
that we will one day
live free.
I weave these thoughts
into dreamcloths
of Freedom.


Rendered in pen, ink and watercolor, plus collaged photoreproductions of historical deeds, all the illustrations beginning with the matching dust jacket and book case speak to the moving portraits contained in this book. The raised portions on the jacket of the links and Ashley Bryan's name symbolize his connection to these people.  Each element of the design on the front is there for a specific purpose.  To the left on the back is a picture of The Fairchilds Estate 1828.  The opening and closing endpapers are enlarged reproductions of a document.  These are followed by document reproductions on the title page, smaller and more complete.

The document and other publications are used as a background for the portrait of each slave to the left of each initial poem.  Heavy black lines define their features. The technique Mr. Bryan uses is reminiscent of stained-glassed windows.  To the right of the following poem we see them at work; surrounded by an environment they have made their own.  These pictures are framed in what I like to call flames of hope.

The vibrant colors in the dream illustrations speak to the individual personalities of the people; they swirl and flow with life.  The facial and body features, their eyes, mouths and hands, connect to others and that which they love.  Each one is simply beautiful.

One of my favorite illustrations of many is of Peggy inside her kitchen.  Behind her on the left is a shelf filled with ingredients, then moving right, a window looking outside and finally hooks from which hang plants to be used in her professions. Working at the table with her kneading and forming loaves of bread is Dora. Resting his hand on her is John, a bandage around his head from the healing poultice she placed there.

I know these free verse poems are works of fiction written and illustrated by Ashley Bryan in Freedom over me: Eleven slaves, their lives and dreams brought to life.  Before I wrote a single word of this post though, after several readings of the book, I was compelled to know more.  What I found in my research and what I listened to and read about Ashley Bryan's process prompted me to place this book here.  It is based on a primary resource Mr. Bryan has in his possession. I believe it will inspire discussions and further searching by all readers.  I am very moved by this book, brought to tears more than once.

To discover more about Ashley Bryan and his work please follow the link attached to his name to access The Ashley Bryan Center established in 2013.  At the publisher's website you can view multiple interior images. At TeachingBooks.net Ashley Bryan has recorded a message about this title.  There are several video interviews of Ashley Bryan at Reading Rockets.


Please visit Kid Lit Frenzy hosted by educator Alyson Beecher to see the other selections by bloggers participating in the 2016 Nonfiction Picture Book Challenge.

Taken

There's something particularly unsettling about having to go somewhere you don't want to go, even when you have a choice.  When in the course of events all you imagined comes true, it's almost overwhelmingly wonderful to return home; to be among those things familiar and comforting. A house, your house, no matter the size, and the natural landscape surrounding it provide sanctuary.

Take away choice.  Take away the knowledge of where you are going.  Take away the only land you have ever known.  Africa Is My Home:  A Child of the Amistad (Candlewick Press) written by Monica Edinger with illustrations by Robert Byrd follows a nine-year-old girl captured and placed on this slave ship.  Her accounting will linger in your mind and heart.

No one comes home.
That is what they told me.
No one.

I was born in Mendeland, West Africa, one of the greenest places on earth.

At a very young age, a child is pawned by her father to work for another family in exchange for food.  Soon thereafter, she finds herself part of a human chain, tied together by iron, marching for days toward something frightening. She has never seen an ocean.

For seven harrowing weeks, she and others live below deck in darkness.  Brought to shore in the middle of the night, in silence, she and three children are purchased the following day in Cuba.  They have never seen people wear layers of clothing.  They have never seen a horse.  It must have been terrifying for her, for all of them, to comprehend all this newness.

The four children are placed on a ship with other adult males, a ship called the Amistad. Lead by a man called Cinque the captives escape from their chains to overthrow the white men in charge of the ship.  They demand the ship set sail back to Africa.

Deceived the slaves aboard the Amistad are again captured and placed in custody.  For more than eighteen months trial after trail does not settle the fate of the Africans until it finally reaches the Supreme Court of the United States.  Freedom is finally granted to all but still they cannot go home.

Surviving the cultural differences, the changes in seasons, living with more than one family and the uncertainty of your future, this girl, the other children and men waited another eight months to sail home to Africa with a group of missionaries.  By the time she is sixteen the course of her life will alter again, taking her on another ocean voyage.  Will she ever return to her beloved homeland?

In an author's note Monica Edinger addresses her years of painstaking research and the decision to write this true story as a first person fictionalized account.  There is an intimacy in her word choices, bringing readers into the strong emotional experiences of Margru.  Vivid descriptions of place and people, good and bad, transport Margru's life from the past into the present; readers will feel her presence, hear her voice.  Placed among the narrative three times are poetic pieces of her dreams; of her mother, father and the elders.  Each ends with

I dreamed of home.

Here are a couple of passages from the book.

We walked for days and days, passing people going about their lives as we had only days before: girls with calabashes full of water on their heads, women washing in rivers, men working in fields, and boys climbing trees.  Everyone and everything made me think of home.  Of my mother, my sisters and brothers, even my father.  I cried myself to sleep thinking of them. 

Our lawyers felt Kagne, Teme, and I should not be prosecuted as we had nothing to do with the rebellion, and so, on the first day of the trial, we were brought to the courtroom without the men. 
"Are they hanging Cinque and the others while we are here?" I whispered to Teme.  All three of us cried and cried.  Mr. Tappan tried to comfort us, but it was to no avail.


Rendered in ink and watercolor the illustrations of Robert Byrd give readers a genuine sense of the life of Margru beginning with the matching jacket and cover.  He features her memories and dreams of home with her voyage and the challenges and changes it wrought in her world.  The blue of ocean on the front is a solid background on the opening and closing endpapers.  Travel across the Atlantic alters this person's life more than most of us can understand.

Full color pictures accentuate the narrative, beginning with a map of Africa on the first page framed in a pattern native to the area.  The text on the opposite page is framed with the lush green landscape of Mendeland; three children walking among the bushes and trees.  At times Byrd chooses to use an illustration spreading across two pages, above or below the text.

Many of the full page visuals extend to the page edge.  Single page illustrations edged in a thin black line usually have a single element breaking that frame, giving it motion and emotion.  Throughout the book, smaller pictures are inserted for emphasis.  It is this variety in size and perspective which elevates and compliments the text.  Reproductions of primary documents act as excellent bridges between the past and present.

One of the most poignant scenes is of Margru standing alone on the deck of the ship taking her home to Africa.  The small figure looking across the water, sun shining its path on the surface, is uplifting and hopeful.  Your heart will soar, cheering at her return to her homeland.


Africa is My Home:  A Child of the Amistad written by Monica Edinger with illustrations by Robert Byrd is captivating from cover to cover.  The character of Margru, her fears, her courage and the fulfillment of her dreams, is a story that needed to be told.  I encourage you to read this title and add it to your bookshelves.  In addition to the author's note a page of selected sources is included.  Update: Monica Edinger has several posts on her blog with additional resources.  The links are here, here and here.  Follow this link to an interview of Monica Edinger at Book Q & As with Deborah Kalb.