Piecing Together Home

The resilience of children is clearly tested when they move from all that is familiar to them.  For many of them, the challenge is not in leaving a home, neighborhood, school, and friends.  They have been uprooted and replanted in an entirely different country.  They have to navigate through all that is new, finding a balance between what was and now is.

For these reasons, many new children in communities and schools are quiet.  They are observing.  They are trying to figure out their place in these circumstances.  The Color Collector (Sleeping Bear Press, April 15, 2021) written by Nicholas Solis with illustrations by Renia Metallinou is a beautiful portrait of bravery.  One child has the courage to seek the truth.  Another child has the courage to share their truth.

She was new.

She was quiet.

I think she was lonely.

That was the day I met Violet.

It began with a hello.  It began with a smile.  Each day the boy walked on one side of the street.  Violet walked on the other side of the street.  They lived close to each other.

One day this changed.  Violet picked up a red piece of paper the wind blew to her.  The boy watched her place it in her backpack.  Violet saw him watching.  She lifted her hand in a greeting.

The boy saw her picking up all kinds of things in all kinds of colors.  Curiosity getting the better of him, the boy asked Violet what she did with those items.  She wanted him to follow her.  She took him to her home.  They entered her room.

What he saw was stunning!  She explained her creation in stories as he listened.  Her sadness was less.  Aloneness became togetherness.  And on his way home, the boy found . . .

The simple declarative sentences spoken in the voice of the boy give this story touching authenticity.  Though the writing of Nicholas Solis we are both bystanders and participants.  Day by day a kind of suspense is built, a mystery grows until dialogue is introduced.  We know something wonderful is going to happen.  We are not prepared for the spectacular reveal, but we are shown the generous spirits of children.  Here is a passage.

The day she picked something up.

The wind blew strong.

A red candy wrapper did somersaults.

It landed at her feet.  It hugged her shoe. 

The crisp white canvas on the open and matching dust jacket and book case is ideal for the depiction of a story focusing on color and its part in forming a friendship.  On the front we are introduced to the narrator and the new girl, Violet.  We sense her determination and his questioning.  The design choice to have the title text shift in colors is fabulous.

To the left, on the back, in black and white Violet is walking home from school.  The red wrapper floats by her.  She bends to pick it up and it vanishes inside her backpack.  

The opening and closing endpapers, the same, are a collage of collected bits of paper, trash, and natural objects.  On the title page, the boy and Violet are walking together framed by the text.  A red leaf swirls and loops top to bottom.

Each of the images is animated and richly detailed.  On the first double-page picture the only color is the purple ties holding Violet's pigtails in place.  Illustrator Renia Metallinou alternates between image sizes to follow the pacing of the story.  The first double-page visual is followed by a full-page picture and three vertical panels on a single page.

Gradually, as Violet picks up items, the colors of those are added to the illustrations.  Each subsequent picture is more colorful than the previous one.  After we are as astonished as the boy with what he sees in her bedroom, both children are in full color.  The final two double-page pictures are as warm and inviting as the newly formed companionship.

One of my many, many favorite illustrations is a full-page picture.  The boy and Violet are standing in the open doorway to her bedroom.  The doorway fills most of the picture except for a portion of the door on the right.  We are close enough to them that all we see is the upper part of their bodies.  It is the expressions on their faces readers will remember.  One is of intense surprise and respect.  The other is of joy in one's accomplishment.  

This book, The Color Collector written by Nicholas Solis with illustrations by Renia Metallinou, is a wonderful symbol of the power of a single act of compassion.  A friendship is formed.  It also reminds us, we can never truly know someone until we understand their stories.  I highly recommend this title for your professional and personal collections.

To learn more about Nicholas Solis and Renia Metallinou and their other work, please visit their websites by following the link attached to their names.  Nicholas Solis has accounts on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.  Renia Metallinou has accounts on Behance, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr.  This title is highlighted at Kathleen Temean Writing and Illustrating, Jena Benton Simply 7, Math Is Everywhere, and Write Away.

El Lugar Tranquilo

Up until college I never had to make new friends or be in unfamiliar surroundings.  After graduation seeking a position lead to moving more than once; four new school districts, communities, neighborhoods, colleagues and friends.  As an adult I had to abandon my shyness letting my passion for what I do take over.  Knowing this I can understand how hard it must be for someone coming into a new country, a strange culture and learning another language when they are young.

How a child adjusts to new circumstances is dependent on support of family, their new school environment, teachers and classmates and, in some instances, the power of imagination.  At times they (we) may dream of a more comfortable spot.  In the newest collaboration by Sarah Stewart and David Small, The Quiet Place (Farrar Straus Giroux, September 18, 2012), a little girl creates her own kind of beauty in her new home.

It is mid-spring in the year 1957.  Isabel, her older brother, Chavo, with her mother and father have left Mexico for the United States to live in a city near Lake Michigan.  In a series of letters, so she can practice her English, she writes back home to her Aunt Lupita, a school teacher.

She recounts the landscape in her journey, of making snow angels in a late winter snow and how speaking and reading Spanish makes her feel safe. Understandably, she is shy at school and although her teacher does not speak her language, she welcomes Isabel with a smile.  Something wonderful happens, too.

Her father buys a refrigerator and gives Isabel the box; her own sanctuary for writing letters and keeping her books.  Even a sudden rainstorm cannot discourage her quest for boxes. Every time her mother cooks for children's birthday parties is a new opportunity to bring home one of those cozy cubbies.

Her supportive family helps and allows her creativity to flower; a single room grows to many.  Each celebration leads to another until it is Isabel's special day.  Gifts of words, the practice of writing, paint, paper, pencil and perseverance are reflected in Isabel's joyful one-of-a-kind quiet place.


Twelve letters sent to Mexico, concise, conversational thoughts filled with emotion, convey to readers the true ups and downs felt by a child trying to fit into one life while longing for her old one.  We journey with her, seeing a blending of the two worlds, past with the present.  Sarah Stewart writes as if her heart is the heart of this young girl.

Words are carefully chosen, as if done by a person learning to think, write and read in another language. A single sentence tells us Chavo has a way with words, Father is thinking how to help his daughter adapt and Mother is understanding in so many ways.  We readers feel compassion and admiration for Isabel because of Stewart's ability to say much with little.

Here are a couple of her sentences from this story.

Chavo said, "We left a sea of blue at our feet and entered an ocean of blue over our heads."

Writing to you is easier than speaking to all the new people in my life. That is because I know you love me.


David Small begins and ends this story on the book's endpapers.  His impressive ink drawings are further brought to life with watercolor and pastel chalk wonderfully evoking a captured moment.  His altered perspectives are a ready invitation; the green landscape of the Mexican village nestled beneath the mountains with a close-up looking into the back of the retreating car, Isabel squatting, elbows to knees, and gazing at the snow angel or looking into the newly acquired refrigerator box with the house, delivery men and truck in the background.

His attention to those tiny, poignant details adds much to his two page spreads throughout the book.  At the Mexican border we see Isabel extending her arm out the car window, teddy bear in hand so he can see what everyone else is seeing, or at the diner counter (1950s Formica pattern) Chavo is reading an edition of Life magazine or when we see the created quiet place, a doll is wearing the same dress as Auntie Lupita in the farewell scene.  Isabel's teddy bear can be found in nearly every illustration.

Four illustrations, in addition to the endpapers and title spread are without text but they continue the story beautifully.  The four-page fold-out near the book's end is a stunner.  Isabel's quiet place is revealed in all it's colorful, imaginative glory.  It's a tribute to her Mexican culture, her resilience and joyful spirit.


The Quiet Place written by Sarah Stewart with illustrations by David Small is a gentle, graceful, story about coming to a new country and starting over surrounded by a loving family who embrace their heritage and their new community.  I love everything about this book; absolutely everything.

If you follow this link to Macmillan  there is a mini-slide show of illustrations.  This link  to Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast shows the illustrative process David Small used for this title. There are some gorgeous drawings.

These are links to interviews given by Sarah Stewart and David Small prior to the release of this title.
To get to their main website follow the link embedded in David Small's name at the beginning of this post.