Defining Welcome

In my adult life, I have bought and sold ten houses.  Last June I moved into the eleventh house.  In most of those homes, there was a small piece of paper on display I read everyday with these words:

The beauty of the house is order,

the blessing of the house is contentment,

the glory of the house is hospitality.

I am currently struggling with the first line as organizing my considerable book collection is time consuming, but this eleventh house is slowly becoming a home filled with a happy, tail-wagging canine and her human who both enjoy visitors.

Each individual holds their own meaning of home in their mind and heart.  In The Mouse Who Carried A House On His Back (Candlewick Press, August 30, 2022) written by Jonathan Stutzman with illustrations by Isabelle Arsenault readers come to understand some of those definitions.  They also realize how houses become homes within the context of welcoming.

Vincent was a mouse with boots on his feet,

a hat on his head, and a house on his back.

He had traveled many miles and lived many places,

but today Vincent would live here,

because he knew it was where he needed to be.

Vincent stopped on a grassy hill.  The sky stretched as far as his eyes could see. He removed his boots, hat, and his house.

A weary and grumpy frog soon hopped toward Vincent.  Vincent offered his house as a place to rest.  The frog laughed.  Obviously, the house was too small, but peering inside it was definitely bigger than it looked.

As the day progressed Vincent was visited by a hungry cat, a rain-and-wind tossed family of hedgehogs, and a bunch of other animal residents of the forest.  Each time, the mouse would offer his house as a sanctuary.  Each time the animals believed the house was too small to accommodate them, but they were wrong.  The house grew and grew and grew.

As all the gathered beings were about to enjoy a feast in the soothing sanctuary of Vincent's house, there was a knock at the door.  It was now dark outside.  Standing at the door was a bear, a bear who was hungry and lost.  Vincent was his usual cheerful, inviting self.  The other animals were not.  Their voices rose in protest.  Vincent knew where he was needed and no one was going to change what he believed to be true.

With every reading the musicality of this story, in a blend of dialogue and narrative, by Jonathan Stutzman grows more evident. We are initially introduced to the main protagonist and his house.  Each time an animal appears we are reminded of this mouse's characteristics and the characteristics of his house.  Carefully chosen words clearly indicate the condition of each animal upon their arrival.  This is paired with a perfect suggestion by Vincent as to what his house offers.  There is a repetition of key phrases.  Jonathan Stutzman brings us full circle with his closing sentences.  Here is a passage.

Clouds billowed in the west, and in blew a family of hedgehogs---one by

one by one by one by one by one by one---each wet and tousled by a

mighty storm.

"Terrible weather in the valley," squeaked the youngest.

"Come in, come in!" said Vincent with a smile.  "I have warm blankets

and beds and a crackling fire."  . . .

The artwork on the open book case is a single vibrant image.  Vincent, moving to the right, has passed through a mass of stunning blooms covering the left, back, and continuing to the right of the spine on the front.  The house he is carrying on his back is the first of many cut-outs throughout the book.  What we see is a hint of the gorgeous opening and closing endpapers.  The array of blooms on these endpapers is stunning.

On the back of book case is text that would normally appear on the front and back flaps of a dust jacket.  At the top is a short description of Vincent and his house.  Toward the bottom we read about Jonathan Stutzman and Isabelle Arsenault. 

The floral display continues on the two-page illustration for the title page.  Here Vincent, on the right, has placed his house down for a moment.  Almost all the double-page pictures contain a cut-out of Vincent's house with sizes that shift.

These visuals by Isabelle Arsenault

were created with gouache, ink, and cut paper.

Her characters are highly animated with facial expressions indicating their particular moods.  Readers will be fascinated by their clothing.  Each time we look inside Vincent's home, there are added elements to make the interior more pleasing.  You find yourself looking in anticipation each time a page is turned.  Once inside the animals are relaxed and happier.  Readers will gasp at the four-page gatefold.  Be sure to look in the windows.

One of my many favorite images is when the cat and frog are already inside Vincent's house.  On the left, through the cut-out house, one of the hedgehogs is gazing inside.  There are now four hanging lamps with unique shades.  You can see the cat and frog's shoes, removed, as well as Vincent's boots.  The table is longer with more chairs and place settings.  The frog and cat are seated there enjoying a cup of tea.  There is now a brick fireplace with plates along the mantle.  A roaring fire there spreads warmth.  Two beds are in front of the fireplace.  Other beds can be seen on the left.  Spare blankets are stacked on a stool.  There are several rugs on the floor.

The first time I read The Mouse Who Carried A House On His Back written by Jonathan Stutzman with illustrations by Isabelle Arsenault, I felt as though I had been presented with something rich and rare.  We are enchanted from beginning to end by Vincent and his uplifting spirit and kindness.  In his eyes, all are equal.  Hopefully as the animals leave his home, his generous spirit will go with them and us.  You can't help but wonder how Vincent knows where he needs to be.  This book is sure to generate discussions.  I highly recommend this title for your personal and professional collections.

To learn more about Jonathan Stutzman and Isabelle Arsenault and their other work, please visit their websites by following the link attached to their names.  Jonathan Stutzman has accounts on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.  Isabelle Arsenault has accounts on Facebook and Instagram.  At the publisher's website, you can view an interior illustration.  At Penguin Random House, you can see additional interior pictures.

From That, This

Having a canine companion affords you great lengths of time for reflection and retrospection.  Whether you are ambling up and down the hills of a disc golf course, strolling along the Lake Michigan shoreline, winding through northern Michigan woods or standing in your own backyard, your mind wanders where it might otherwise not go.  You wonder about the land and lakes hundreds of years ago, who might have lived there or walked along the same path you do today.  It's hard not to believe we are all connected regardless of the dates spanning our lifetimes.

In her newest title author illustrator Deborah Freedman takes these musings one more step.  She offers readers an opportunity to explore deeper connections, connections to the gifts given to us by our planet.  This house, once (Atheneum Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division, February 28, 2017) is both intelligent and beautiful. It has one of the best first sentences I have ever read.

This door was once a colossal oak tree about three hugs around and as high as the blue.

Building from the door which opens into a sanctuary, a home, we are asked to think about stones.  Where were they before they became a part of this abode?  They were waiting to be awakened.

We have an entrance.  We have a foundation.  Now come the walls fashioned from the earth; from dirt to the dignity of making a space, a place of hope and happiness for the dwellers therein.

To keep out the seasons, endeavoring to shelter from cold, heat, wind and wet a roof is made.  Sturdy hands sculpted shingles from shapes centuries in the making.  Let's open the door and step inside to the warmth within these four walls sitting on a secure foundation protected by the created canopy.

Our views are sharpened and framed by tiny elements gathered and heated into a liquid that hardens, transparent and tough.  In the glow of dancing light from a fire more moments emerge, allowing us to insert a comma in our thinking.  Let's seek, let's learn, let's know.


In words like a lilting melody we are asked by Deborah Freedman to imagine with care and clarity about the beginnings of those elements which comprise our homes.  She supplies this refrain by presenting a poetic statement about each of these materials.  This artful writing requests us to not only think but to express gratitude.  In addition we can't help but wonder even farther back.  An oak tree grows from an acorn.  And acorn comes from an oak tree but how did the acorn get planted.  This train of thought is absolutely marvelous and important.

These stones were once below,
underground, deep asleep...


When you open the dust jacket for This house, once you instantly feel calm envelope you.  The deep rich shades of purple, the starry sky and crescent moon allow us to begin to imagine.  Is the house in snow or clouds or both?  The spot color of red for the door knob and the raised foil for the title are the ultimate finishing touches of design.

The pale lavender hue used for the text on the spine becomes the canvas across the book case.  On the front of the case the same shade of foil from the jacket etches the house into the background.  On the spine the foil is used again.  On the opening and closing endpapers a soft gray, like stones, provides the color.  With a page turn we have an initial title page, stones lying in grass.  For the formal title page a kitten appears among the stones as oak leaves in clothed in autumn hues drift down across two pages.

Another page turn continues the line of stones but a squirrel, leaping frog and turtle make an appearance as the leaves gather in a pile.  A tiny yellow bird hovers above the publication information on the left and the dedication is on the right.  You must read it.

A lovely, truly lovely rhythm is made by Deborah with her images rendered in pencil, watercolor, and bits of colored pencil and pan pastel, with an assist from Photoshop.  She begins with a white canvas, two pages, with her words on the left and a small but significant illustration on the right.  The next two pages are a stunning wordless extension of the first picture adding in her delightful creatures.  In these gorgeous two-page visuals she may give us a more panoramic view or take us in close.  Some shade of purple unifies all the pages.  Careful readers will notice the presence of one animal in all of them from beginning to end, a circle.

One of my many favorite illustrations (They are all stunning in their soft texture and lightness of line and luminosity.) is for the mud.  Across two pages we have a light purple sky gently framed in pale blue.  Shades of brown form the mud.  Grass, stones and oak leaves are placed on this ground.  The kitten is slapping the surface, paws socked in dirt.  Splashes of mud move upward as the frog happily leaps.  A turtle slowly moves toward the frog and kitten.  Watching this all this activity is the tiny yellow bird.  This picture is filled with life and.... a deep love for our planet.


Right now I have a small stack of books (two) which I want to put under my pillow each night and which are on my desk all day, every day.  This house, once written and illustrated by Deborah Freedman is joining this group.  This book will go deep into every heart imploring us to think more completely and to move through life with gratitude.  This book is one which must be on all bookshelves.

To discover more about Deborah Freedman and her other work take a few moments to visit her website by following the link attached to her name.  At the publisher's website you can view interior pages.  Artwork from this title and process pictures are featured at author, reviewer and blogger Julie Danielson's blog, Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast.  Deborah Freedman is showcase at Life's An Art!.

UPDATE:  Deborah Freedman is interviewed by educator and director of The Plum Creek Children's Literacy Festival, Dylan Teut on his blog, Mile High Reading, February 23, 2017.