Spellbinding . . .

When writing a blog post, I always go to the Library of Congress or the Michigan eLibrary to find the subject headings for a given title to add to my post.  Sometimes, I do not agree with the selections and I will add my own.  For this post, the subject headings made me smile.  They spoke to truths I hold deep in my heart.  Our minds' memories hold the stories of our lives, and all the stories we've heard and read.  This is powerful magic.

Each memory, ours and those of others, enrich our lives.  They enlarge our view of the world.  They transport us to other places and other times.  With each story, the magic around us and beyond the four directions gets stronger and stronger.   In Witch Hazel (Little, Brown And Company, October 11, 2021), author illustrator Molly Idle presents a visual and written masterpiece.  It is a tale to be savored by one generation and passed to another generation, over and over.  It will be remembered.

IN THE SPRING, Hilda helped Hazel sweep the front porch.

Hilda enjoys spending her days with Hazel.  They, like the season mentioned in the first sentence, are old and new, wise woman and youth. In sweeping the porch, Hazel recalls how she as a child would spend hours with her 

furry friend

reading stories together.  Hilda wants to hear one.  In telling of their adventures, Hazel leaves part of these stories with Hilda and her 

furry friend.  

When summer arrives, the duo move inside to the music room.  Here Hazel recalls, as a young woman, playing music for and with a songbird.  She then tells Hilda how she released the bird, giving it freedom.  Hilda becomes Hazel's songbird in the sultry summer.

Dusting in the parlor in the autumn, Hilda asks Hazel about a portrait over the mantelpiece.  It is Hazel as a grown woman.  She is gowned in all her glory at a ball.  She is wrapped in magic as much as Hilda is now wrapped in a scarf Hazel is knitting for her.

Hazel stays in bed during winter.  Hilda lovingly cleans her room and  keeps Hazel company.  This time it is Hilda who magics stories for Hazel, stories of Hazel's life she shared with Hilda.  Memories swirl around in the room.  In the spring, it is not the same for Hilda and

her furry friend.

There is sadness, but also joy in remembering.  Our stories never really end.

Great care by author Molly Idle is evident in her writing of this story.  The pauses in the narration are excellent.  The word choices reflect each of the seasons.  They also mirror the particular portion of Hazel's life being revealed.  The blend of narrative and dialogue welcomes us into the lives of Hazel and Hilda.  This, too, allows for the images to extend the story into elegance.  Here is a passage.

IN THE SUMMER, Hilda helped give the music room an airing.  The old piano bench creaked a bit as Hazel sat upon it.

Hazel creaked a bit, too.

She laid her hands, feather light, upon the keys.

If there were hues for memory, storytelling, and magic, then the color palette you see on the open dust jacket (and throughout the book) are those used by artist Molly Idle here.  The sepia tones, cream, and white are exquisitely rendered using

graphite and Prismacolor pencil on Stonehenge paper.

Each line, each use of light and shadow, and each detail brings us into the story.  We are already asking ourselves questions as we look at the image on the right.  What is now?  What is memory?  What is the story being told?  The floral fan element in the four corners on the right and left sides is a portion of the feather duster used by Hilda.  The leaves in the oval frame appear like hearts . . . or is it love surrounding these two wonderful beings?  On the back, the left side, another smaller oval fashions a border for Hazel's hat in white and clouds of sparkles.  The words above it read:

The stories passed down

from our loved ones

become a part of us. 

On the book case there is a shift in the images on both the front and back.  On the front, Hilda has the broom.  Its tip touches the broom held by Hazel, now appearing only in white.  The cat is real.  In the oval on the back, with leaves more realistic, is a stack of books.  Next to them is Hilda's feather duster.

The endpapers created by Molly Idle are a part of this story.  In the first set Hazel sits on the steps of her home.  She holds her broom with the feather duster on the bottom step.  A tree to the right of the house provides a branch for a swing to hang.  Younger Hilda with a kitten waves at Hazel on the far right side.  In the closing endpapers, Hilda now sits on the porch step, imaging the scene we saw on the opening endpapers.  Hilda now holds the broom as she looks at Hazel from the past.  Her cat, now larger, watches Hilda and her kitten of the past on the right side.  The bushes and vines on either side of the porch have grown and are blooming.

On the title page, Hazel, now standing with her broom, holds out the feather duster for Hilda who sits in the swing hanging from the tree.  Each subsequent page turn gives readers a single page image or a group of smaller pictures representing the passage of time or a large double-page illustration drawing us deeper into the story.  When Hazel's stories are told, they are wordless.  You cannot help but look at every single item in each scene.

What magic is the broom bringing into the setting?  Items from Hazel's stories are left behind.  Why do you think this is shown?  Hazel's hat is not always on her head.  Hilda is growing up as is her kitten.  At the same time, Hazel is showing signs of getting older between spurts of remembering her youth.  The three-page gatefold toward the end of the book is gasp-worthy, leading us to a poignant end and beginning.

One of my many favorite illustrations is a double-page visual.  Here Hazel is seated on the piano bench with her hands on the left side of the keyboard.  Hilda is to her right with her hands on the keyboard.  Hazel's broom is propping up the piano's lid.  Her hat rests on the tip at the top of the lid.  Magic floats from the piano to the open window.  There stands a youthful Hazel watching her bird fly to freedom.  Hilda's cat holds the feather duster in its mouth.  The bird cage next to the piano is empty.

This book, Witch Hazel written and illustrated by Molly Idle, is an ode to the power of memories and  stories, and the connections forged between generations by those memories and stories.  Each sentence brings us into the life of Hazel, her past, and her present with Hilda.  The artwork transforms wherever we are into the magical realm where Hazel and Hilda are.  I highly recommend you place a copy in your personal and professional collections.

To learn more about Caldecott Honoree Molly Idle and her other work, please follow the link attached to her name to access her website.  Molly Idle has an account on Instagram.  She chats about this book at A Fuse #Eight Production with Betsy Bird and at The Children's Book Review with Bianca Schulze.

Links In The Chain Of Story

We carry them with us day after day.  They are a collection of what we taste, smell, hear, see, and touch.  They are a blend of perceptions and beliefs, questions and answers.  They arrive unbidden or on demand.  They are now and then and when.  They are us and all those who are a part of us.

Every second of every day is a memory.  Some are spectacular.  Others, at the time, seem ordinary, but in reality they may be the most valuable.  In Also (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, February 8, 2022 written and illustrated by E. B. Goodale, this talented creator explores memories, family, and shared love.

Today, I am at my gramma's house,

high on the hill,

amongst the blueberry bushes,

And also . . .

Daughters and mothers enjoy a day together. Each one is in this present, but also remembering

another time.  The youngest on the hill is recalling a camping trip with her mother and the quiet all around her.

The grandmother, who sees her granddaughter on the hill, in her mind sees herself as a little girl.  On that day, a bunny meant she had wet shoes for the rest of the day.  The youngest girl's mother is looking for her.

She is thinking of another day during blueberry season; when her sister made her laugh as they separated blueberries together in their mother's kitchen.  Next to the little girl on the hill, today, is her grandmother's cat, Nutmeg.  Nutmeg has memories, too.  On this day, she remembers being a tiny kitten with no home until someone touched her and invited her into their home.

Since that day with the little girl on the hill filled with blueberry bushes with her grandmother looking out her window at her and her mother on the hill seeking her, years have come and gone.  Now that day is a story you are reading, now.  As the little girl now a young woman writes, she remembers many pasts and paths folding together.  They are connected by ties never to be broken.

With her writing, E. B. Goodale has given readers a profound and meaningful story.  With a single word, she asks us to not only pause in the reading of the book, but to personally pause in that moment.  How do we connect with what we are reading?

Each description of then and now is vivid and sensory.  Each character's memory is bound to another individual with great affection.  An inviting cadence is supplied with a repeated structure for now and for then for each character. Here is a passage.

. . .she is remembering sorting blueberries

in the breakfast nook of her mama's kitchen.

Her sister was making her giggle.

Not only are we introduced to the characters in the story on the front, right side, of the open dust jacket, but we also are given a hint as to how E. B. Goodale designates the difference between now and then.  The red bird whose looping flight acts as a placeholder for the text is seen in every illustration in this title.  Seeing the characters from this perspective helps us to feel as though we are right behind them, ready to enter the story.

On the other side of the spine is a pale golden wash for a background.  There we see all the characters nestled together in the grass and flowers.  The red bird flies in place above them.  The text here reads:

An ode to the memories we make . . .

. . .and also those we make them with.

The book case takes us into a different then and now.  Those we see on the dust jacket are now in the past.  To the left of them, down the hill, is Gramma's house.  The majority of the case is in shades of purple.  The text is placed in colors signifying now.

The opening and closing endpapers are an intricate pattern of delicate leafy branches in hues of purple on a white canvas.  This pattern also is the first page on the left and the final page on the right.  On the title page the text is in purple.  A large red bird flies between the text.

The two-page pictures throughout the book were rendered by E. B. Goodale 

on kitakata paper using monoprint, gouache, and blueberry ink.

The points of view shift to elevate the text.  At times, we are given a larger view setting.  Our eyes are then drawn to a special point in another scene.  And then, sometimes we are very close to a character.  We are so close we feel as though we can reach out and touch them.

When the narrative alters to now and goes back to when the writer is a little girl, the red bird acts as a thread to the past.  Its flight pattern opens the past to allow the present being referenced to appear in full color.  This bird leads us to the final two-page image revealing its importance.

One of my many favorite illustrations is when the little girl's mother is remembering a day filled with laughter.  She and her sister are seated on opposite benches at the breakfast nook table.  They are separating the blueberries.  The sister has placed a row of blueberries in her mouth looking like she has a blueberry smile.  She has her hands on either side of her cheeks like big ears.  The little girl's grandmother watches her daughters by peeking around the doorway to the kitchen.  Outside the breakfast nook window, the red bird is eating at a feeder.  This picture, a memory, is in shades of purple.

Written and illustrated by E. B. Goodale, Also is a rare book, rich in its presentation of memory and our stories.  It celebrates all parts of our lives and others' lives and how we are connected.  I highly recommend you include a copy of this book in both your personal and professional collections.

To learn more about E. B. Goodale and her other work, please access her website by following the link attached to her name.  E. B. Goodale has accounts on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.  This book, process art, and other images are showcased at author, reviewer, and blogger Julie Danielson's Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast.

Timed Treachery

The dust jacket, but not the flaps, and the book case are examined. Anticipation builds and questions gather as the volume is held in your hands.  The endpapers may increase the excitement, possibly offering more hints.  If page turns past the title, verso and dedication pages reveal a map, surely an adventure is in the offing.  To encourage reader participation if words invite you to scan QR codes strategically placed throughout the book, you know you are going to be experiencing something out of the ordinary.

On the dust jacket of The Van Gogh Deception (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, August 29, 2017) written by Deron Hicks, two tweens are running down the steps of the National Art Gallery in Washington, D. C.  Shadowy figures watch from the top of the steps.  Already we know trouble is surrounding these two children.  The opening and closing endpapers feature three paintings by Vincent van Gogh.  Interestingly enough those on the back, have been altered.  Specific places in a radius around the gallery have been named on a map.  Why?  With the added inclusion of the QR codes the stage is set for a true page-turner and thrilling present-day, high-stakes mystery.  Once you start this book, you, like the children on the run, won't be able to stop.

PROLOGUE
The boy appeared out of nowhere.

This boy sits in a room filled with people, paintings and sculptures.  Who is watching him?  How long has he been there?  Why is he there?  These unanswered queries lead us into the first part.

First we travel to France three years ago.  A highly-planned plot of trickery involving enormous sums of money is put into play.  This is followed by a terrifying scene in a parking garage late at night in present day Washington, D. C. It does not end well for the gentleman being pursued.

The boy from the prologue is the center from which all further action radiates.  There is also the spider.  At closing time a docent from the gallery comes up to the boy.  It is discovered he has no recollection of why he is there or who he is.  He has lost his most recent memories.  Examined by two different doctors and questioned by Detective Brooke Evans at the Metropolitan Police Department, he is eventually placed in the care of Mary Sullivan who fosters children temporarily.  She has a ten-year-old daughter named Camille.

After conversations that evening and in the following morning, the Sullivans and the twelve-year-old boy they are calling Art, decide to take the train back to the National Gallery of Art hoping it will help him to recall more memories.  At the same time a highly trained group of covert operators guided by a leader, Dorchek Palmer, a millionaire ten times over, twenty-eight years old and a computer genius, are in pursuit of the boy.  He needs to be taken by any means necessary.

Mounting tensions escalate in part two when Art and Camille and Mary Sullivan are getting a snack in the Garden Cafe in the gallery.  Dorchek Palmer is seated a few tables away.  A sudden recognition as to a clue in Art's pocket has the children quickly leaving.  Mary panics when she discovers the children are missing.  Palmer and his team give chase.

In less than an hour the children realize their very lives are in terrible danger.  High-speed action at every page turn tests the resourcefulness of Art, who still does not remember recent circumstances or his name, and Camille.  They are pitted against the best money can buy.  Time is running out for everyone.

Two final destinations will test the ingenuity of the children and the skill of the highly trained adults.  Their goals are at odds; one to reveal a forgery and the other to keep it concealed.  Survival is paramount.


The page and one-half page prologue will hook readers immediately.  When author Deron Hicks follows this with the multi-million dollar forgery scheme meeting and the parking garage confrontation, you know hours will be willingly spent following this story to the end.  By dividing the narrative into three separate parts Hicks intensifies the action.  (An appropriate Vincent van Gogh quote begins these parts.)  It is increased further with time of day, date and place notations at the beginning of almost all the chapters and even within the chapters.  The majority of this 306 page book takes place in a single day.

Descriptions of places, famous artists, their work and the criminal activity of forgery do not detract from the fast flowing tale.  The dialogue between the children and all the adult characters is realistic and true to the genre.  Deron Hicks also has an adept knack for ending his chapters with edge-of-your-seat comments. Here are a few of my marked passages.

The middle-aged man wanted to laugh.  There was no way he would ever be allowed to go free.  He'd be lucky to make it through the rest of the night alive.  But he didn't panic.  There was too much at stake.  He backed up against the trunk of his rental car and took a deep breath.  It was time.

Palmer pushed the button on the side of his watch to illuminate the time.  It was getting late, but he knew that there would not be any sleep tonight.  Events had taken an unexpected turn the night before, and the stakes had increased significantly---the spider was loose in the city.

The man paused.  Palmer could tell there was something else the man wanted---needed---to ask.
"And what happens to the boy when you find him?" the man finally asked in a low voice.
Palmer carefully folded up the newspaper and took a final sip of his americano.  Before he stood to depart, he reached down to pick up his messenger bag and looked the man directly in the eyes.  "There are questions, Dr. Belette, that you should not ask."


This book, The Van Gogh Deception written by Deron Hicks, is one you will need to add to your collections to broaden and deepen your mystery, adventure and thriller titles.  It's going to be eagerly passed from reader to reader.  I can't wait for the opportunity to chat with others about it.  (I read it once as fast as I could and more slowly today.)

To learn more about Deron Hicks and his other work, please follow the link attached to his name to access his website.  At the publisher's website is an excerpt.  Deron Hicks talks about this title at the HMH Young Readers blog and is the featured author at School Library Connection.  Deron Hicks maintains an account on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.

Remembering Then, Living Now, Hoping For Tomorrow

For those people directly affected by a natural disaster or an epic event triggered by a single person or group of individuals, we cannot truly understand the depth of the emotional or physical impact.  As observers our response is based upon our own life experiences.  If we have a connection to those persons involved our reaction will be definitely heightened.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, as a nation our way of life changed irrevocably.  For those able we listened or watched in stunned silence.  In our elementary school, all staff maintained, as best as we could for the children, a business-as-usual kind of day.  At a subsequent meeting many of us were openly weeping at the staggering number of lives lost.  

In six days we will mark the fifteenth anniversary of 9/11, the deadliest attack in history on the United States.  The Memory of Things (St. Martin's Griffin, September 6, 2016) by Gae Polisher provides an intimate portrait of two teenagers in New York City on that Tuesday morning.  As their two stories unfold and intertwine we are in the midst of their lives prior to and during the following four days.

  

Tuesday Morning, 9.11.01

BIRD

I move with the crowd, away from downtown Manhattan.

We travel swiftly but don't run, panicked but steady, a molten lava flow of bodies across the bridge.

A crash of thunder erupts---another explosion?---and the flow startles and quickens.  Someone near me starts to cry, a choked, gasping sound, soon muted by a new wail of sirens rising at my back.  

Kyle Donahue, a student at Stuyvesant High School in Lower Manhattan is crossing the Brooklyn Bridge toward home, having been evacuated from his school building.  As he walks, stunned by seeing the collapse of the South Tower, he glimpses large wings on something crouched near one of the bridge's pillars.  Concerned it needs help, he turns around to go back, regardless of the urgings of others. What he thought was a bird he discovers is a girl near his age, looking as though she means to fly away.  She is coated in ash and dust with bits of metal in her hair.

Eventually Kyle is able to persuade her to come with him, making their way to his family's apartment in Brooklyn Heights.  Kyle's father is a detective with the New York City police and a member of the Joint Terrorist Task Force.  His mother and younger sister are scheduled to fly home from California this morning.  His uncle Matt, a former member of the New York City police department, is living with them recovering from a crippling accident earlier in the spring.  Kyle has no idea who the girl is.  She can't remember her name.  

The girl's voice within the narrative is written in free verse.  At first there are only seemingly unconnected bits and pieces of memory she can gather.  As hours and days pass a more complete picture of the Tuesday morning and her past are revealed; an overwhelming loss, a special place, a lack of understanding and words said in anger. 

Conversations between Kyle and the girl, his Uncle Matt, his dad and his mom when the phones work, and his Uncle Paul, also a member of the New York City police force, depict a very clear picture of family dynamics even though we still don't know who the girl is, why she was by the twin towers or where she lives.  Tension builds as one day stretches into the next.  Kyle is the anchor at home, taking care of his wheelchair-bound uncle.  He knows he should report the girl to missing persons or take her to the appropriate authorities but he also wants her to stay.  Kyle still has not told his dad about the girl. 

When and if Kyle's dad comes home decisions need to be made.  Personalities of those important people in Kyle's life are no longer quite the same.  In those few days a boy and a girl bond in a situation not likely to be replicated in their futures.  There is much love.  There is much loss.  There is a great deal of fear.   Within the larger story of 9/11 individual stories weave together heading toward a conclusion readers could not have predicted.   

Exquisite writing by Gae Polisner completely captives the reader from the first to final pages. (I read this book in a single seating.)  She supplies explicit details of the day to day events through Kyle's thoughts, his conversations with the girl as well as during conversations between family members.  The dialogue between all the characters rings true also revealing to us little by little the lives of each character and the values they hold in their hearts before and after that Tuesday.  We get a true sense of the shift in indivdual outlooks.  The past flawlessly flows into the present.  

The choice to depict the girl's voice in free verse adds suspense to an already unprecedented situation.  We are privy to her temporary amnesia, her few and scattered recollections, which build little by little to longer phrases, more complete memories.  But Polisner does not allow us to understand, along with the girl, until near the end.  This is brilliant.

Another writing technique employed in this story is the use of parts, eight, instead of chapters.  Within each part are smaller sections denoted with several words or a single word.  This ties readers in a personal way to the text.   Here are some sample passages from the ARC I received.

Wait to fall

but don't

Am tethered here

Turn.

A boy shouts,

eyes full of terror.

He grabs hold of me

(an explosion

a ball of fire rising to the sky...

flames

everywhere).

Pull away from his grip, but he won't

let go.

A fresh round of banging and machinery starts up in the background.  "Okay, I've got to go, kid.  Give Matty a kiss for me.  I'm proud of you."  He stops.  No, not stops.  My badass dad is crying.  I wait for his regular voice to return again, normal, safer sounding.  But instead he says, "And stay inside, you hear me?  Don't go anywhere.  Not until we know for sure what's going on."

"Okay, I promise," I say.  And, though I know I shouldn't, I ask, "Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

"I hope so, kid.  I think so.  The military is all over it now.  But I don't know when I'll be home.  Not tonight.  So hold down the fort."

"Okay, we will."  My eyes dart down the hall.  Me, Uncle Matt, and the bird girl.  "Do what you need to do," I say.  "I'll let Mom know now."

He hangs up.  I let out a shaky breath and wait for my mother to call back.

And for one split second, as I look up at her, I forget about everything else except for her and me, and this moment.  About the two of us doing this silly little unimportant thing together.

I forget about the planes and the buildings and worrying about my dad.

I forget about Uncle Matt's accident, and that he's stuck in a wheelchair.

I forget the girl is a stranger, and I don't even know her name.

I forget about Jenny Lynch's dad and Bangor's uncle.  I forget about Marcus and civil wars in countries far away.

I forget that this day isn't normal, that yesterday wasn't normal, that the whole world as we know it has stopped; that's there's a weird, hushed pall across the city.  Across the nation.  And I forget that, at least here in New York, we don't know when---or if---it will ever be normal again.

For one split second I forget.

For those readers who can remember the events of 9/11 this story and these characters will become a part of those thoughts.  The Memory of Things written by Gae Polisner is an outstanding young adult novel; one you will want to read and recommend repeatedly. In an author's note at the end Gae, who lives with her family on Long Island, New York, speaks about her personal experiences before and after September 11, 2001.  Her final paragraph and her final sentence will long resonate.

To learn more about Gae Polisner please follow the link attached to her name to access her website.  Gae maintains entries on Tumblr.  At the Nerdy Book Club Gae reveals the cover along with comments by her, the cover designer and her editor.  At the publisher's website you can read an excerpt.

I was fortunate enough to hear Gae Polisner and Nora Raleigh Baskin speak at nErDcampMI 2016 in a session titled Healing Through Words: Two Authors discuss 9/11 and Coping with Tragedy through a writer's lens.  I encourage you to read the middle grade book, Nine, Ten: A September 11 Story written by Nora Raleigh Baskin.  

One of my fav things about THE MEMORY OF THINGS (out 9/6) is the comic relief that comes from the Cow & Chicken scenes. So. . .

— gae polisner (@gaepol) September 1, 2016

UPDATE:  A teacher's guide has now been provided by the publisher.  

What We Keep

What is it about the words once upon?  It's as if when they are silently read or spoken aloud an ageless storytelling incantation is evoked, swirling about the reader or listener.  As the tale continues we are drawn deeper into the realm it creates.

When a book includes those two words in the title or as part of the opening sentence, it's nearly impossible, as an individual reading silently, not to imagine sharing with others.  You find yourself placing emphasis on certain words, altering your voice to convey emotion and falling completely under the spell of the narrative. Written by Nina Laden with illustrations by Renata Liwska, Once Upon a Memory (Little, Brown and Company, December 3, 2013) is one of those books whose charm does not fade when the covers are closed.

Does a feather remember 
it once was...

...a bird?

In a series of seven rhyming couplets, fourteen questions are asked of readers.  For each one we take a journey back to the beginning; to the origins of an object, a man-made area, a natural element, an action or an endearment.  We explore and learn to look closer at those things which might be a part of our everyday lives.

A young boy is sitting, stuffed animal friends and his dog sharing a day with him, when a breeze blows a feather into his room.  This feather provides the impetus for all the other places we see this little guy visit.  Or sometimes we watch as he does something which triggers another thought.

Looking at a book, sitting in a chair, digging in the dirt, or walking his dog leads him to words, trees, peas and grain.  He visits a seashore, a home for statues, a special piece of land or his own yard to ponder rain, stone, the unknown or play.  The boy sleeps, chats with an older woman, watches a line of baby ducks, and rides an airplane to contemplate, allowing his mind to wander.  He may even grow up wondering if he will remember.


By the end of the first couplet, the invitation sent to me as a reader by the carefully written words of Nina Laden was gladly accepted.  As each question is read, readers can't help but anticipate where the next page will lead them. What word will be chosen to rhyme with the previous word?  We follow the narrative not only for this purpose but to encounter those things we can sense, the tangible and actual, and those things we can feel, the intangible and rare.  It is in the silence these words create, we are able to enlarge our perceptions.


When opening the matching jacket and cover, it's hard not to sigh with pleasure.  Renata Liwska pictures the boy sitting with his animal friends who have come alive.  On the front they are enjoying a peaceful read in a tree, the feather dangling down from a string held by the squirrel.  On the back the tree branches are extended but day has shifted to night, stars sparkling in the air from a pen poised over an open book held by a tiny bear.  The opening and closing endpapers are done in pure white with a single feather tucked in the corner of each set.

The introductory two pages are wordless, featuring the boy surrounded by all his toys and his dog.  A small table is set for tea and an owl-shaped clock ticks on the wall as the curtains blow out into the room.  For each question, using white space to accent and frame, Renata Liwska pictures the boy on the left for the first part of the phrase with animals depicting the second part on the right.

The verso explains her work:

The art was initially sketched by hand in the artist's journal.  It was then scanned and colored in Adobe Photoshop.  The animal characters were inspired by the artist's experiences with nature, from her worldwide travels to her own backyard. 

As an example, for the sentence

Does a cake remember
it once was... 
...grain?

we see a smaller illustration on the left of the boy's dog up on its hind legs, paws resting on the window, looking into a bakery with the boy inside holding loaves of bread.  On the right we see six mice walking and climbing through fields of grain; an adult, holding the hand of a child, is listening and another is pulling a little red wagon.

Liwska's illustrations are luminous in their delicateness. Details are intricate; defining features on her animals are full of life.  There is humor with all the added extras; the bird sweeping up feathers in the "barber shop" is listening to a tape player with a headset, in the bookshop another animal is writing on a little red typewriter, the dog is digging in the garden, as water is filling their boat two bears are scooping it out while another plays with rubber ducks and paper boats, and a mallard is wearing a tool belt as he constructs a nest.

One of my favorite illustrations (I truly love them all) is of the boy sleeping with his dog curled up on the bed, a speckled ball in his paws.  On the opposite side is a day-at-the-beach scene filled with all kinds of animals at play, two are seated in the foreground on a bench, flip-flops scattered about on the deck.  Kites are flying.  Characters are surfing.  Crabs are dancing.  And the ball is being kicked in the sand.  Happiness is everywhere you look.


If you want a book to soothe, to gently encourage imaginations to flourish, Once Upon a Memory written by Nina Laden with illustrations by Renata Liwska is a title you need.  I know it will become a favorite with readers and listeners alike.  It opens the door to infinite possibilities.  In my heart and mind I am adding this title to those books I call huggable.

On the left-hand side of the closing endpapers is a list by the author and illustrator of their favorite things to remember.  They ask you what your favorite things are.  Please follow the links embedded in their names to access their personal websites and Renata Liwska's blog.  Here is a link to a post at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast highlighting the work of Renata Liwska.