Save To Savor . . . And Share

We collect.  We gather.  We save.  What an individual chooses to collect, gather or save depends on their needs and wants.  Some items are necessary for life; others are reminders of moments in that life.  Some things are tangible, and others are not.  Those we hold in our minds.

We may find some things harder to collect, gather or save but this is what makes them all the more cherished by us. In A Jar (G. P. Putnam's Sons, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, January 21, 2020) written and illustrated by Deborah Marcero is a book which opens our hearts to possibilities.  It shows us how nothing can break the bond of friendship formed with love.

Llewellyn was a collector.
He collected things in jars.

Inside his jars were things representing all the wonder he witnessed around those objects.  If you looked inside his jars, you would see how observant Llewellyn was.  He gathered things he noticed as he wandered out in the world.  (He collected heart-shaped stones, just like me.  I already love this little guy.)

One evening something out of the ordinary happened.  The sky was an exquisite color of red and Llewellyn wanted to save it.  When he was at the edge of the water, he met Evelyn.  Llewellyn put some of that sunset glimmer in a jar and presented it to Evelyn.  You won't believe what the jar did all night long in Evelyn's bedroom.

Llewellyn and Evelyn became the best of friends, collectors of the marvelous things they saw, heard, tasted, smelled or felt.  Nothing was impossible.  During winter, spring and summer they filled jars with all the delights they shared; jars holding trips down ski hills, walks through a field of red tulips and summer shadows.

Jars of all shapes and sizes were placed on shelves lining the walls of Llewellyn's home.  One day, though, this all stopped.  Evelyn's family was moving. 

On one of those nights after Evelyn was gone, when sleep did not come easily, Llewellyn saw something, a collectible something.  He needed to share it with Evelyn.  Later, miles and miles away from Llewellyn, Evelyn saw something, too, a collectible something.  Friendship finds a way to keep love glowing and growing, spreading out.


When author Deborah Marcero speaks of Llewellyn and then, Evelyn, these are two children in which readers will immediately feel a kinship.  They, with respect and no fanfare, appreciate everything around them.  They notice things others might walk past.

Deborah Marcero draws us deeper into the story with her rich descriptions.  We find ourselves astonished and willing to join Llewellyn and Evelyn in their mutual quest to collect those exquisite moments which sometimes only happen once.  Here is a passage.

One night, the sunset painted the sky the color of
tart cherry syrup.  Llewellyn ventured down to the
shore with as many jars as he could carry.

(I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll ever look at a sunset again without thinking of tart cherry syrup.)


Every element on the front of the dust jacket is like one part of an enchanting whole.  The play of sunlight and shadow, the tall trees stretching past the top edge, the vast array of bluebells and Llewellyn and Evelyn, there together, with their jars is like the final piece in a perfect puzzle.  You want to sigh, and you do. 

To the left, on the back, is a canvas of a sunny yellow sky and slightly rolling hills of greens with a bit of blue and brown.  The setting sun, a fiery orb, casts long shadows of a single tree, Llewellyn and Evelyn.  A single sentence says:

FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC.

The book case background is a bright golden yellow.  On the back, left, and on the right, front, are jars of all shapes and sizes, filled with a variety of items.  On the left, Evelyn is kneeling in front of a jar as a turtle comes out with a snail on its shell.  On the right, Llewellyn is reaching into an equally large jar.  He is close to a butterfly inside with two others and a leafy branch.  A cocoon hangs from the branch.

On the opening and closing endpapers is a pattern of wind-blown leaves in hues of green shifting to yellow, orange and red as they move from left to right.  On the back the color alterations are in reverse.  Butterflies float across the title page and over the gutter to the verso page.  They flutter on all sides of Llewellyn who stands on some grass and holds a jar.

Rendered

in pencil, watercolor, ink, and digital media

the illustrations elevate a lovely narrative to excellence.  Smaller images, more close-up of the characters, are placed within two-page pictures.  Although what has been collected remains in a jar, the memory attached to it swirls around the endearing characters.

Sometimes three smaller visuals in a row will be used to highlight one or two words.  They show a sequence of events.  Two-page illustrations and single-page pictures extend page edge to page edge to create a dramatic effect.  And sometimes jars, many jars filled with the beauty of a season, are all we see on a page.  The delicate details, fine lines and color selections by Deborah Marcero are stunning.

One of my many, many favorite illustrations is beneath the words:

the newness of spring . . .

The sky above our characters is a pale blue gray.  Rolling hills of tulips in hues of red and pink cover two-thirds of the single page.  The perspective goes from tulips that are almost the size of dots to much larger along the bottom of the page.  About halfway up the page are Llewellyn and Evelyn.  All we can see of them are their heads and upright ears and a tiny bit of the top of their clothing. This is utterly charming.


When you read this book, In A Jar written and illustrated by Deborah Marcero, no matter if it's the first time or the tenth time, you have to remind yourself to breath.  It's that striking in words and artwork.  This is a book your readers and listeners will ask you to read again and again.  I imagine a collection of jars filled with objects and memories will grow.  I highly recommend this for your personal and professional collections.

To learn more about Deborah Marcero, please follow the link attached to her name to access her website.  Deborah Marcero maintains accounts on Instagram and Twitter.  At the publisher's website you can view the endpapers.  Deborah Marcero is interviewed on the podcast Picturebooking.

The Power Of One

We read them.  We write them.  We sign them.  We speak them.  We hear them.  We can even touch them.  A single one of them can change the course of history.  A group of them, conveying a single thought, can be recorded and remembered for all time.  Even if you are standing in a space without them, they will come uninvited into your mind.  They are one of the most powerful forces on our planet.

They save lives around the world every single day.  In Peter H. Reynolds's newest title, The Word Collector (Orchard Books, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., January 30, 2018) a small boy, wise beyond his years, recognizes the value and strength of words. His greatest triumph is acting on this knowledge.

Collectors collect things . . .
Some people collect stamps.
Some people collect coins.
Others collect rocks.
Some collect art.

Jerome collected words.  He was always listening to, looking at and reading words.  If any one of them was unique to him, he wrote it down.  Each word had its own piece of paper.

The length of the word did not determine its worth.  It was the way in which they rolled off his tongue and their musicality which had appeal to him.  All those words on pieces of paper filled scrapbook after scrapbook.  Like all master collectors, Jerome had a system for categorizing those scrapbooks bursting with words.

One day the unimaginable happened.  A mishap caused Jerome's collection to scatter.  The words no longer were grouped in any sort of order.  From this mess this marvelous boy began to create magic.  He started to put the words together in a new kind of order.  With this order his collected words formed verses to write, read and sing.

Jerome was discovering the best thing about his particular collection.  Its strength increased every time he shared those words.  Did this boy stop collecting words? No.  Did this boy stop sharing words?  No.  In fact, he finally did the one thing he had not done.  On a very special day, he was the happiest he had ever been. 


If there's one thing children understand, it's the desire to collect things.  It's as if this need to know everything about one particular thing is irresistible.  Peter H. Reynolds captures this beautifully in his simple, conversational sentences.  His use of language leans toward the songs words can make when arranged.  As the story progresses we feel a gentle tension growing until the eventful day when Jerome's collection scatters.  And this in turn leads us toward the best possible conclusion.  Here is a passage.

He collected words he saw.
Certain words jumped out at him.

He collected words he read.
Certain words popped off the page.


Speaking of words, one word to describe the opened dust jacket is jubilation.  Picturing Jerome with eyes closed and arms raised gives the reader a sense of the peace and comfort he feels among his collection.  Seeing the slips of paper with his words floating around him is like giving form to air.  To Jerome his words are like air giving him life (and life to others, too).  The color choices, blue, white, yellow, and the shade of purple are particularly appealing.

On the book case, in shades of golden yellow, are layers of pieces of paper.  Each one contains one of Jerome's words.  I know readers will pour over those words, selecting those which call out to them.  On the opening endpapers the slips of paper float through a pale blue sky and wisps of clouds.  A bluebird gives witness to this.  A sky filled with the hues of a purple dusk and early starlight provides a canvas for the closing endpapers.  More yellow papers drift on the night air.  Three lines of those words form a quote from Peter Hamilton Reynolds. 

On the verso and title pages two spaces are cleared in the yellow layers of words to provide a place for the appropriate text.  (The text type and display are hand-lettered by Peter H. Reynolds.)  The remarkable style of Peter H. Reynolds's illustrations fill these pages with smaller images grouped together on white backgrounds, larger pictures on white on single pages (the white changes to other hues at times) and two-page pictures to accentuate specific moments in the story.  Each one is designed to bring readers to the story and increase our compassion for the word collector.

The facial expressions on all the children are endearing but none more so than those of Jerome.  You want to hug this child for his love of words.  Another noteworthy detail is Jerome and the other children are pictured barefoot.  There is something freeing in being able to go barefoot.

One of my many favorite illustrations spans two pages.  Jerome is stringing his words together.  On the ground several two-handled large tubs hold bunches of his words.  Strips of paper are scattered on the ground around each tub.  From left to right two lines are stretched, crisscrossing to the left of the gutter.  On the right Jerome stands attaching words to the lines with clothes pins.  This image is all kinds of wonderful.  The background is white except for pale green around the tubs.


After reading The Word Collector written and illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds everyone will want to string lines in at least one room highlighting their favorite words.  The total joy found in the use of words flows from the pages of this story.  I can't imagine a collection, professional or personal, without a copy of this title.

To learn more about Peter H. Reynolds and his other work, please follow the link attached to his name to access his website.  Teacher librarian extraordinaire Travis Jonker reveals the book cover on his blog, 100 Scope Notes, located at School Library Journal with an interview with Peter H. Reynolds.  There is an inspiring and helpful post at School Library Journal, The Classroom Bookshelf, by Katie Cunningham about this book and possible learning experiences. I think you'll enjoy the book trailer, too.

Matched Memories

It's impossible to remember a time when I have not been collecting something.  When I was younger it was rocks, seashells, pressed flowers and stamps.  When my niece and nephew were growing up, I collected what they did, comics and Beanie Babies.  (They have since found new homes with students.)  I have a bowl beside my computer filled with Petoskey stones and beach glass from my walks with Xena.

My love of books has always been a part of my life; my collection growing (sometimes daily).  In looking around my home, it seems the collections which I still have are a reflection of who I am and meaningful points on my life line; of what is important to me.  Paul Fleischman's The Matchbox Diary (Candlewick Press) with illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline is a story of collections and recollections.

"Pick whatever you like the most.  Then I'll tell you its story."

A young girl is meeting and visiting her great-grandfather for the first time.  They are standing in a room with shelves and cases brimming with items he has gathered over the years, antiques, framed pictures, vases, boxes, clocks and books...lots of books.  Her selection, he says, will tell him more about who she is.

She chooses an old cigar box, empty of cigars, but full of matchboxes.  Each box is like a passage in a diary, a record of his life.  Unable to read or write when he was her age, this is how he remembered.

An olive pit inside one recalls his life in Italy.  It reminds him of the olive trees, their home with dirt floors, no heat except for the cooking fire and hunger.  To help with the hunger he would suck on an olive pit given to him by his mother.

A crumpled black and white photograph of his father, the tip of a fountain pen, a piece of macaroni, a bottle cap, a hat pin, a Saint Christopher medal, sunflower seed shells, fish bones, strips of dated newspapers, a tooth, a ticket to a baseball game, a piece of coal, type from an old printing press, each placed inside a box, are silent reminders.  When the box is opened the great-grandfather gives these items life with his voice.  They tell of a long and terrifying sea voyage, the hardships of being an immigrant, of prejudice, and desire...the desire to read and write.

As he grew older his matchbox diary took on a new form.  He looked for items representing the stories of others.  Believing every age, every person, has stories, the gift of one generation is passed to another.  Even when the cover on this book is closed, the tale will continue, person to person to person.


As a reader Paul Fleischman had me hooked after the first two sentences; a story about stories.  Told entirely through the conversations of the child and her great-grandfather, as they open each box, creates an intimacy; the feeling of readers being a part of a shared experience.  Very specific, sensory details, of people and events are attached to each of the items.  The narrative is more than a retelling of the great-grandfather's past experiences though; it's the creation of a new relationship. Here is a sample passage.

"We were headed to Ellis Island, in New York.  Someone told me that men would stick buttonhooks in our eyes there."
"What's a buttonhook?"
"A metal tool for closing up shoes, before there were laces. I had nightmares about the buttonhook men.  Then we had bigger problems. A storm hit us. Maybe a hurricane.  The boat bucked like a horse. ...


The illustrations rendered in acrylic gouache by Bagram Ibatoulline are stunning in their realism. The rich, warm, golden-brown parchment like paper background on the back jacket and cover is replicated not only in the cigar box lid on the front jacket and cover but on all the pages in the book. The opening and closing endpapers are awash in faded, textured denim blue.  Heavy matte-finished pages highlight the artwork, creating a masterful blending of the present with the past.

Whenever the focus of the text is on the great-grandfather and the child, full color visuals (nearly photographic in detail) seem to glow.  In contrast each full page (sometimes crossing the gutter) illustration, also done in intricate detail, reminiscent of the events represented by the item, is done solely in the brown tones of an old-style photograph.  Each time a matchbox is opened to reveal the object inside, the perspective shifts presenting it and the contents in actual size.

 My favorite illustration is of the great-grandfather as a boy when he, his four older sisters and mother are reunited with their father in America.  They are shown in a group hugging one another against the background of a dock with a boat and building. The manner in which the emotions are captured makes this portrayal incredibly moving.


The Matchbox Diary written by Paul Fleischman with illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline is a treasure on numerous levels; stories within a story, a gallery of exquisite visuals, and having value with nearly any age group.  Every time this title is read, the reader will notice something new.  It is unmatched in its unique presentation of the immigration experience and a young boy's need to learn to read and write.

The link embedded in Paul Fleischman's name takes you to his website where he reveals how he came to write this book.  This link take you to one of the two-page spreads in the title. Candlewick Press provides a three-page teacher's guide at this link.