Tag Archive for Harnett Kate

Books in Books for Libraries Week

For #librariesweek, a few books about books. Because we are living in a time of library cuts, librarian redundancies, and struggling independent booksellers, children’s authors are doing more and more to celebrate not only their nostalgia for the old days of libraries, but also a burgeoning belief that they must fight to uphold every child’s right to library access in the here and now.


Madeline Finn and the Library Dog by Lisa Papp

This is a reassuring book for those readers who haven’t quite grasped the fundamentals yet, or who are struggling with their confidence. Madeline does not like to read, especially out loud, for fear of humiliation and ridicule, but she really wants to earn a star at school rather than just a ‘keep trying’ sticker. She does have a great role model in her mother, who takes her to the library, and keeps her supplied with an abundant pile of books. When the librarian suggests that Madeline read out loud to a dog, rather than a human, Madeline begins to see the merit in trying, and before long her reading abilities have caught up with her ambition.

Inspired by real-life programmes of incentivising children to read with ‘Read-to-Dogs’ sessions in order to build readers’ confidence, this is a worthy and also admirable little read.

The book deserves a mention, not only for the quality of the storytelling, but also for the clear, well-spaced text against a cream-tinted background, which provides an ease on the eye for emerging readers. The illustrations are fitting – soft, expressive, and with a winsome collection of scenes from Madeline’s life – from riding her bike, to struggling over her books, to swinging in the garden, and staring out the window, all with an ever-present favourite soft toy. It creates a rounded picture of Madeline, perfect for empathy. The dogs are all cute and fluffy, or sleek and loyal, and delighted my listeners with the several different breeds depicted, and the dogs’ loving, attentive eyes. You can buy it here.


Franklin’s Flying Bookshop by Jen Campbell, illustrated by Kate Harnett

Jen Campbell takes her bookish book one step further, with a dragon protagonist who loves to read aloud. Perhaps he needs a dog, for this dragon can find no one to read to (the people he encounters run away in fear). Then he meets an inquisitive book-loving girl called Luna, who isn’t afraid because she has read about dragons in books, and so they come up with a plan to enable the sharing of books as widely as possible – a flying bookshop on top of a dragon.

If the concept sounds a little strange, it is – but it fits with the quirky whimsy of this book, which uses the bulk of its prose to extort the virtues of reading (expanding knowledge and extending imagination) by creating a higgledy piggedly mix of what the dragon and the girl bump into within the books in their reading sessions, from roller skating and King Arthur to kung fu and pirates, carol singing and anteaters.

This is quite literally drawn out in Katie Harnett’s illustrations of ant-eaters juggling, kungfu bats and mice moving furniture. The illustrations feel dreamy and timeless, with pencil colouring textures and shading and painstaking patterning – particularly the horseshoes on the dragon’s green skin.

The book speaks to unusual friendships, accepting others who may have only kind intentions despite threatening appearances, and the power of books. You can purchase it here.


Luna Loves Library Day by Joseph Coelho and Fiona Lumbers

This Luna is more than just a girl who loves the library. She has a special reason for loving the library, and it’s because her Dad waits for her there, and together they explore the books. Although not explicitly stated, Luna’s mother and father are separated and so this is the time she spends with her father. In a story within the story, (a physical inset), a not-so-hidden metaphor for Luna’s family situation, the enduring love for a child is explored using trolls and mermaids, despite the splitting of the family unit.

So, of course this is a book about dealing with family breakup, and yet it will appeal to all, for its illustrations are warm, affectionate, colourful and brimming with life and imagination. Lumbers depicts the library books coming to life – with vines sprouting from one book, bugs from another, and magic tricks busting from a magic book.

More than this though, is the attention to detail in the depiction of the library: the clever welcoming posters in the foyer, the comfortable chairs, the abundance of books, and the set up, which shows a spacious, well-lit modern library with a self-checkout. Lumbers and Coelho are at pains to depict not a fanciful idealisation of libraries and family life, but a confrontation of where we are and how we can still find happiness and hope within it. (Although I wish my local library was as well-lit and stocked).

Lastly, and by no means least, are the people depicted within the book. Lumbers and Coelho tick all boxes here, both the diverse mix of people using the library, but also in the comfort and ease of the body language – the children flopped over chairs, or tucked up tight, others with legs akimbo, hair wild and smiley faces. But the best – the armchair hug with Dad. You can almost feel it. You can buy it here.

 

 

 

Animal Picture Book Roundup

archie snuffle

Archie Snufflekins Oliver Valentine Cupcake Tiberius by Katie Harnett
A few weeks ago my neighbours’ cat died. I don’t know the neighbours well, but their cat spent significantly more time in my garden than theirs – it was a neighbourhood cat. So this book held a particular resonance.

In Archie Snufflekins, the cat on Blossom Street is named something different by each neighbour and loved by all. When it goes missing, the neighbours are distraught, until they realise that there’s one household that isn’t out searching – and that maybe the neighbours need to visit number eleven themselves.

This book is about loneliness and community, and also about difference. Katie Harnett draws each individual on the street with wonderful uniqueness, exploring each’s personality in their portrait as well as what they are depicted doing and, of course, the name they bestow upon the cat. From the artist to the twins, from Madame Betty to the Hoskins – each family is as different as the next, and yet have love for the cat in common. It’s a simple tale, told exquisitely, and should be cherished by all those who love community, cats, the quietness of ordinary life, and conquering loneliness. A tempered colour palate, which shines with as much personality as the people it colours. You can purchase it here.

bison bouncing

There’s a Bison Bouncing on the Bed! By Paul Bright and Chris Chatterton
The other end of the scale of picture books – this is a bright, rhyming tale of silliness, which does exactly what it says on the cover. A group of animals bounce on the bed with delight, then discover it’s the bed of a Grizzly Bear and this might be troublesome, but at the end find out that the bear is anything but grizzly.

It’s bright and bold – the sound effects are as loud as the animals are large. This is a happy book for toddlers who think it’s funny to bounce on the bed and want a bedtime story with lots of spring in its tale.

There’s rhyming, counting, onomatopoeia, and a raucous assortment of animals from bison to aardvark. This will be a firm favourite, and one that’s easy to read over and again. From the artist behind Supermarket Gremlins (another household favourite), the element of fun and surprise is never far from his pen. Enjoy reading and bouncing. Buy it here.

marcel

Marcel by Eda Akaltun
Fluctuating again from the fun to the conceptual, Marcel is a difficult picture book for a child to adore. Marcel is a dog – the book is narrated in first person from Marcel’s point of view, but the key character is not so much Marcel, as New York City.

Marcel speaks of his ‘human’, a woman seen fragmented – at first hiding behind a New York Times, and then gradually in pieces; a mouth, a hand. The style is Lichtenstein-esque, a pop art, comic book collage of images mixed with the pastel shades of Marcel himself. They traipse New York, walking well-known streets; past typical brownstones, fire escapes snaking down buildings, Central Park and its entertainment – again collaged works of musicians in different collage textured pieces. There are some riffs on places within the city – a bagel place, the American Museum of Natural History with its bones, until Marcel reports that his human meets another human.

Marcel initially feels excluded, until he comes to an acceptance of the new ‘man’ eventually; after a dazzling diamond appears on his human’s left hand. A book that may be used to promote inclusivity – extending families perhaps?

The pastel hues of blue, orange and yellow against white space give the book a distinctive texture, and the collage pop art, almost reminiscent of Mad Men opening graphics will delight some readers. The ending infers that a sequel will be set in Paris.

This seems less a picture book for young children, and more an artsy gift purchase or a stylised experiment for older students to study design. Intriguing nevertheless. You can buy your own piece of New York here.

max and bird

Max and Bird by Ed Vere
The third Max book, about the little kitten, following Max the Brave and Max at Night. There is an elegance retained in the simplicity of the Max books. Prior to this one, Max has always been fairly solitary – there are some lovely images in the earlier books of Max alone – saying goodnight to the buildings in Max at Night for example. Here, Max meets a bird, and decides on friendship, although he’s not quite sure what friendship entails because he’s conflicted: he would also like to chase and eat Bird.

The ensuing pages are probably the most comic of the three Max books, as Max decides to teach Bird how to fly – not that he has any idea how.

As always, the book feels like one of those colourful scrap books, each page a vivid background colour, each populated with drawings of Max as the book moves along. There is an abundance of understated humour in the drawings – from Max’s and Bird’s reluctance to ask the tall bird for help in reaching books in the library, to the expressions on the friends’ faces as they practise ‘flapping’ in order to fly.

The book is lively – the characters never stop moving or learning, and their eyes betray their emotions. Vere demonstrates enormous attention to detail – body language of the creatures, and titles of books in the illustrations of the library, and overall there’s a lesson of learning to do something – practising and persevering. Already a staple in this household. Get yours here.