Roger Sutton
Editor in Chief

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The post From the Editor – May 2012 appeared first on The Horn Book.

Perfect animal shenanigans
Animal Masquerade by Marianne Dubuc, trans. by Yvette Ghione, Kids Can, 2–5 years.
Silly Goose’s Big Story by Keiko Kasza, Putnam, 2–5 years.
Ballerina Swan written by Allegra Kent, illus. by Emily Arnold McCully, Holiday, 3–6 years.
No Bears written by Meg McKinley, illus. by Leila Rudge, Candlewick, 3–6 years.

Bug books
The Beetle Book by Steve Jenkins, Houghton, 5–8 years.
Busy Builders by Roxie Munro, Cavendish, 6–9 years.
UnBEElievables: Honeybee Poems and Paintings by Douglas Florian, Beach Lane/Simon, 5–8 years.
Nasty Bugs selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, illus. by Will Terry, Dial, 6–8 years.

Middle-grade mysteries
The Case of the Deadly Desperados by Caroline Lawrence, Putnam, 8–12 years.
Two Crafty Criminals!: And How They Were Captured by the Daring Detective of the New Cut Gang by Philip Pullman, illus. by Martin Brown, Knopf, 8–12 years.
Fake Mustache: Or, How Jodie O’Rodeo and Her Wonder Horse (and Some Nerdy Kid) Saved the U.S. Presidential Election from a Mad Genius Criminal Mastermind by Tom Angleberger, illus. by Jen Wang, Amulet/Abrams, 8–12 years.
Rebel Fire by Andrew Lane, Farrar, 9–13 years.

YA sci-fi and fantasy you’ve been waiting for
A Million Suns by Beth Revis, Razorbill/Penguin, 12 years and up.
Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore, Dial, 14 years and up.
Froi of the Exiles by Melina Marchetta, Candlewick, 14 years and up.
Pandemonium by Lauren Oliver, Harper/HarperCollins, 14 years and up.

The post Books mentioned in the May 2012 issue of Notes from the Horn Book appeared first on The Horn Book.

In A Million Suns, the sequel to Beth Revis’s Across the Universe, Sol-Earth–born Amy is struggling with the claustrophobic life aboard the Godspeed after being prematurely awakened from her frozen sleep. The workers are getting rebellious, and the threat of violence onboard ship increases. The moral quandaries presented in shipboard life seem a natural extension of the concerns raised in the first book, and Revis adds a cliffhanger ending to heighten interest in the forthcoming conclusion to the trilogy. (12 years and up)

Kristin Cashore’s Bitterblue serves as a Graceling sequel and Fire companion. The story picks up eight years after Bitterblue, now eighteen, became queen of Monsea. She feels disconnected from her country and people, but friendship with two city thieves allows her to uncover a dangerous web of secrets. Cashore’s sophisticated prose propels the plot, and the believable struggles and maturation of Bitterblue’s character make the complex journey worthwhile. (14 years and up)

Froi of the Exiles is the second book in Melina Marchetta’s Lumatere Chronicles. Former street thug Froi, a secondary character in Finnikin of the Rock, is now, three years later, a devoted follower of Queen Isaboe of Lumatere and her consort Finnikin. But as the story progresses, his role shifts from loyal subject to unwilling spy, assassin, and major figure in the fortunes of his crumbling world. The tortured romances, continually surprising plot, and flashes of humor will keep readers fully engaged in this gripping story. (14 years and up)

Imagine an America in which love is a deadly disease to be eradicated. This is the setting for Lauren Oliver’s Delirium and its new sequel, Pandemonium. Lena’s former self is dead, buried in the fire and ashes that took her beloved Alex during their botched escape attempt from Deliria-Free America. Now chaos reigns as Lena begins a new life in the Wilds, becoming swept up in the war between DFA and the growing resistance. This is an action-packed, suspenseful page-turner with a rewarding and dramatic cliffhanger ending. (14 years and up)

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Marianne Dubuc’s witty pencil-crayon illustrations in Animal Masquerade show fifty-three animals heading for a costume party, each disguised as the next animal in line. Of course, it’s funny to see a mouse disguised as a flamingo, a flamingo disguised as a giraffe, and a giraffe disguised as a millipede. But just when you think you’ve gotten the idea, the pattern breaks with a wacky costume (a chocolate cake?) or a tongue-in-cheek aside. (2–5 years)

Keiko Kasza humorously depicts real-life preschool conflict in Silly Goose’s Big Story. Goose has great ideas for imaginary play with Porcupine, Beaver, and Squirrel, but he always casts himself as hero. While the friends argue over the matter, a wolf sneaks up on them. Luckily, Goose uses his storytelling ability to convince the wolf there’s a wolf-eating monster on the prowl. His friends provide the necessary effects to give Goose’s wild story credibility, proving that they, too, can be heroes. (2–5 years)

Ballerina Allegra Kent’s Ballerina Swan tells a satisfying success story of an unlikely dancer. Sophie the swan, fascinated by the ballet studio near her pond, is eventually welcomed into class. While some things come easily to Sophie, others do not — a good reminder for all young learners. Her hard work is rewarded with a part in Swan Lake. Emily Arnold McCully’s illustrations explore both the comedic possibilities of a swan doing ballet and the grace of her lofty grand jeté. (3–6 years)

Ella, protagonist of Meg McKinlay’s No Bears, is writing her own story. A proper story, she feels, should have a princess, a monster, and a fairy godmother — but no bears, since she’s tired of the way “every time you read a book, it’s just BEARS BEARS BEARS.” However, Leila Rudge’s droll digital illustrations reveal a well-mannered bear, who comes to the rescue at the denouement of Ella’s tale. Fairy-tale cameos and a smart meta-narrative structure will entice readers to pore over every page. (3–6 years)

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Photo by Rachel Zelinsky

Having illustrated more than thirty books, Paul O. Zelinsky is a master of just about every artistic medium. He won the Caldecott Medal in 1998 for Rapunzel, a dark story illustrated with lush, realistic oil paintings. But most recently, he collaborated with Kelly Bingham on the side-splittingly funny Z Is for Moose, in which the exuberant (and impatient) main character barges in on every letter of the alphabet. (2–5 years).

1. Many years ago you wrote a piece for the Horn Book Magazine that told why your favorite medium was oils. Has that changed?

Paul O. Zelinsky: Not really. I wrote about the ways one medium after another tried to trip me up, drying into different colors or textures from those I’d laid down, or lightening overnight from the values that I worked so hard to get; and how oils are not only sensually pleasing to use, but have been a reliable and forgiving medium. I’ve always had an easier time fixing my mistakes in oils than in anything else.

I also wrote that I dabbled in Computer but couldn’t draw on it. This has changed. Now I am a Photoshop fiend, though I still use it not so much for original creation as for manipulation. While Photoshop doesn’t have a lovely smell — you don’t engage in a sort of physical dance with a material in the way you do with actual paint and paper — it takes forgiveness to a whole new level.

2. Z Is for Moose is so silly. Is there a secret to getting in the mood to create funny drawings?

PZ: Kelly Bingham’s manuscript was all I needed; it was hilarious, and almost everything you see in the book was already there. But I don’t think I giggled while I worked. In fact, if you could have watched me the whole time on a studiocam, I doubt you’d have been able to tell that I was making funny pictures. Getting a composition to look right, figuring out what’s wrong and what could be better — these things are engaging but not lighthearted. It’s not actually amusing to spend your time speculating about whether a picture would be funnier if Moose’s head were tilted differently and then find the right tilt; or to draw Zebra’s eyes again and again until the expression looks like what worked in a first rough sketch. Drawing funny actually feels pretty much the same as drawing exquisite or jaunty or soporific or tender or heroic or you-name-it.

3. There’s no shortage of alphabet books, and part of what makes yours stand out is the meta-aspect. Do you think a straightforward ABC book still offers possibilities for illustrators? Or is the fun in the winking?

PZ: I imagine there will always be fresh takes on the form that don’t step back a level and refer to the making of the book itself. Anyway, from the point of view of very young children, nothing is old or hackneyed. Isn’t it important for them to be exposed to the most basic forms of things? Variations should come second. And winking third.

I want to say again that I can’t take credit for the meta-aspect of Z Is for Moose, or indeed for almost any of its aspects. That is all Kelly Bingham. I feel lucky to have been asked to make the pictures.

That said, stepping back and up a level is something I’ve always liked doing — before I gradually ceased my own painting in favor of illustration only, the still lifes I made were all self-referential in their own way, and I’m not sure if that was a good thing. Sometimes I feel there may be too much winking meta-stuff going on in general: after a point, self-reference can become tiresome and lose its cleverness. I think Z Is for Moose gets away with any and all winks because behind the meta–picture book (and behind the alphabet book), there is a story about frustration and friendship that feels warm and true. 

4. E. L. Konigsburg once spoke about how important it is for book creators to spend time “doing nothing.” Do you too find that your time away from the drawing board helps your work?

PZ: I am capable, actually, of doing nothing without getting up from my drawing table. My studio windows look out on a lovely churchyard where preschool children play in the mornings and afternoons. Right now it’s early evening. Dogwoods are in full bloom, and the flowering cherries have just finished; pink petals lie in drifts on the brick paths. The grass is intensely green and rain clouds are looming…

I hope nobody is watching me on a studiocam.

I like to tell myself that the time I spend not working magically contributes to the quality of the work I will eventually get to. But I don’t really believe it.

5. What was it like growing up at the end of the alphabet?

PZ: How good of you to ask. I grew up as both a Z and the shortest kid in my class, and it was a double whammy of coming last. Always being put at the end of the line in every school event did not feel good. At times I have tried to make a campaign of it. All I’d want is to reorder the alphabet. I wouldn’t insist on Z coming first; I’d be happy in the middle, around where N is now. What is an N anyway but a Z turned sideways?

My first illustrated book was by Avi, whose secret last name also comes very late in the alphabet. He threw it over for A and seems to have done quite well. The second book I illustrated was by the early-twentieth-century Russian writer Boris Zhitkov. I will never forget walking into the glamorous Scribner’s bookstore on Fifth Avenue to see if they were carrying that book, How I Hunted the Little Fellows. I looked and looked and finally saw a copy near the floor, way off to the right, in a shadowy corner under a counter shelf.

Even if Z Is for Moose hadn’t been a wonderful manuscript, I would have had to take it, with a title like that. (Moose also happens to be the nickname my wife’s siblings gave her as a child.) What’s more, when I received it, the author’s name on the manuscript was Kelly Wightman. An alphabetical colleague, I thought. But what did Kelly do between submitting her manuscript and getting published? She went and married a Bingham, changed her name, and jumped from number twenty-three to number two. I can’t really blame her, though.

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Caroline Lawrence’s The Case of the Deadly Desperados is a bang-up series starter told in flashback by young P.K. Pinkerton. P.K.’s story opens when a gang of outlaws, dressed as Indians, kills his foster parents. He escapes to Virginia City, “the vilest place on earth,” with a medicine bag his foster ma instructs him to take before she dies (it holds his “Destiny”). P.K.’s strongly voiced account succeeds as a rousing adventure that promises more action in another installment just around the corner. (8–12 years)

Phillip Pullman’s Two Crafty Criminals!: And How They Were Captured by the Daring Detectives of the New Cut Gang includes novellas Thunderbolt’s Waxwork and The Gas-Fitters’ Ball, first published in the UK in the 1990s. Set in Victorian London, the novellas feature a band of children who fancy themselves detectives. In the first story, the New Cut Gang clears a man of counterfeiting charges; in the second, they add matchmaking to their skills. Both tales contain lots of characters and lots of plot, with everything coming together in complicated, satisfying endings. (8–12 years)

In Tom Angleberger’s Fake Mustache: Or, How Jodie O’Rodeo and Her Wonder Horse (and Some Nerdy Kid) Saved the U.S. Presidential Election from a Mad Genius Criminal Mastermind, a spree of bank robberies strikes the wacky town of Hairsprinkle. Narrator Lenny Flem Jr. knows his best friend Casper is the culprit; it’s only with the aid of has-been preteen TV star Jodie O’Rodeo that Lenny can bring Casper to his knees. Goofy black-and-white illustrations by Jen Wang reinforce the story’s slapstick humor. (8–12 years)

Rebel Fire, the second book in Andrew Lane’s Sherlock Holmes: The Legend Begins series, sends young Holmes to America. He’s in pursuit of a seriously deranged John Wilkes Booth, whose gang has Sherlock’s sidekick Matty in its clutches. The detective’s journeys via ocean liner and train lead to cat-and-mouse games with the bad guys as well as to opportunities for the nascent detective to sharpen his skills. With smart and dignified pacing, there’s more action here than Conan Doyle’s Holmes probably saw in his entire lifetime. (9–13 years)

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One insect you won’t find in your backyard (unless you live in the Amazon) is the titan beetle, with jaws “powerful enough to snap a pencil in half.” Kids have the opportunity to marvel over this and numerous other beetles in Steve Jenkins’s The Beetle Book. Colorful cut-paper beetles stand out crisply from the white backgrounds. They’re remarkably detailed, right down to the intricate patterns on wing casings and the delicate nature of the insects’ legs. (5–8 years)

Profiles of eight insects (and one spider) that make their own dwellings are presented in Roxie Munro’s Busy Builders. As always, Munro expertly employs perspective, on one page zooming in close enough to see the hairs on an insect’s legs and the shape of its antennae, and then on the next backing out to feature the geometric details of its home. Detailed explanations on the construction techniques and purposes of the structures are interwoven with facts about life cycles, food sources, and habitats. (6–9 years)

In Douglas Florian’s UnBEElievables: Honeybee Poems and Paintings, puns and wordplay enliven the poems, and rhythmic verse echoes bee behavior, as much with sound as with sense (“I’m a nectar collector. / Make wax to the max. / A beehive protector. / I never relax”). A paragraph of facts elucidates each spread, but the real energy here is in the deceptively casual watercolors that illustrate this offbeat and attractive book. (5–8 years)

As selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, poets including X. J. Kennedy, Alice Schertle, and Kristine O’Connell George celebrate Nasty Bugs. Kids who love bugs for their yuck factor will appreciate these verses about lice, ticks, bedbugs, stink bugs, cockroaches, and more. Will Terry’s luridly vivid illustrations show the anthropomorphic critters up-close and personal. Three pages at the back provide scientific information about each bug. (6–8 years)

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