1. Water in the Park is all about observation. What’s your favorite place to people- and animal-watch?

EJ: I live in Brooklyn and am fascinated by the huge variety of people in the city — people from all over the world — and by the texture and rhythms of the street life in my neighborhood. I wrote about it in Lemonade in Winter: A Book About Two Kids Counting Money (Schwartz & Wade/Random, 4–7 years) and the Invisible Inkling series (Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins, 5–8 years) as well as in Water in the Park. The feeling of the neighborhood is very fundamentally American in that it’s the proverbial melting pot in action. People are mixed, racially and culturally and economically and spiritually, but we all go to the same park and the same corner shop, you know? It’s thrilling.

My own stoop is my favorite place to people- and animal-watch. There’s a woman who shelters all these rescue dogs down the block, and an aged greyhound with a perpetually bandaged hind leg. Also an enormous fluffy dog with a brown head that looks transplanted onto its white body. There’s a veteran who sweeps his walk in a haze of illegal-smelling smoke, a noisy French-speaking family, and an old lady who puts her Agatha Christie novels out on the street for people to take when she’s done with them.

2. How closely do you work with your illustrators? Did anything about Stephanie Graegin’s pictures for Water in the Park surprise you?

EJ: Sometimes I get to see sketches and dummies before a project goes to final art, and sometimes I don’t. As I’ve gotten to know certain illustrators, projects have come from a desire to work together. Small, Medium, Large: A Book About Relative Sizes (Star Bright, 3–5 years) was a book Tomek Bogacki and I put together ourselves. Paul O. Zelinsky and I are doing a Toys Go Out picture book that originated in some conversations we had while on tour.

With Stephanie Graegin, I didn’t see the work until it was completely finished, but I was freaking ecstatic with everything she did, especially the way she threaded characters and little narratives through a story that hardly identifies anyone but the dogs by name. There are so many personalities and little dramas on her pages. And she draws awesome babies.

3. Your book What Happens on Wednesdays, illustrated by Lauren Castillo (Farrar, 4–7 years), also deals with time and the progression of the day. Do you have daily routines or rituals?

EJ: I love community rituals that involve large meals and a million kids running around like lunatics, jacked up on sugar. Hanukkah parties, birthdays, Sunday dinners, I’’m your person. Then I declare myself exhausted and want to see nobody for weeks. As for daily rituals, I think I am more of an observer of how those rituals are important to children, and what they mean in the fabric of a family or neighborhood.

4. The pets in your books, such as Mr. Fluffynut and Little Nonny from Water in the Park and FudgeFudge and Marshmallow from That New Animal (Foster/Farrar, 4–7 years), have fantastic names. What’s the best pet name you haven’t used yet?

EJ: Thank you. The nefarious kitten Pumpkinfacehead in Toys Come Home (Schwartz & Wade/Random, 5–8 years) was just a typo that made me laugh, but the others I chose quite deliberately. Perhaps I should now push my imagination in another direction. I love that the tiger in Life of Pi is called Richard Parker. So: maybe a guinea pig called Louisa May Alcott. That makes me smile.

5. You’ve written picture book reviews for various publications. How does reviewing other people’s work inform your own creative process?

EJ: It forces me to think carefully about what I value in picture books, and about the relation of text and image. It helps me remember to leave room for an artist to fully illustrate my books. I don’t want the text to do all the work. Or even most of it. There needs to be room for pictures.

From the May 2013 issue of Notes from the Horn Book.

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Many of the books in this issue of Notes implicitly enjoin us to look up from the page and head out into nature (or, as my mother would say, “put down that book and go out and play!”). As I write this, we’re just coming off of Screen-Free Week, an annual effort in which young people and adults alike are encouraged to turn off their TVs, computers, and game consoles in favor of non-virtual recreation. “Read a book instead!” has always been at the top of the list of approved alternatives — but what if your book is on a screen? As digital editions take an increasing piece of the publishing pie, we are all being challenged to rethink what we mean by “book” and “reading.” I can now go outside and take an entire library along with me in my pocket. I wonder what Screen-Free Week — not to mention my mother — would think about that?

Roger Sutton
Editor in Chief

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Get outside
Peep and Ducky by David Martin, illus. by David Walker, Candlewick, 1–4 years.
Phoebe and Digger by Tricia Springstubb, Candlewick, 3–6 years.
Everyone Can Learn to Ride a Bicycle by Chris Raschka, Schwartz & Wade/Random, 3–6 years.
It’s Our Garden by George Ancona, Candlewick, 5–8 years.

Get moving
Becoming Babe Ruth by Matt Tavares, Candlewick, 4–7 years.
You Never Heard of Willie Mays?! by Jonah Winter,  Schwartz & Wade/Random, 4–7 years.
Hoop Genius: How a Desperate Teacher and a Rowdy Gym Class Invented Basketball by John Coy, illus. by Joe Morse, Carolrhoda, 4–7 years.
Daredevil: The Daring Life of Betty Skelton by Meghan McCarthy, Wiseman/Simon, 4–7 years.

Historical fiction starring girls
Sugar by Jewell Parker Rhodes, Little, Brown, 8–12 years.
Bo at Ballard Creek by Kirkpatrick Hill, illus. by LeUyen Pham, Holt, 8–12 years.
Hattie Ever After by Kirby Larson, Delacorte, 10–14 years.
One Came Home by Amy Timberlake, Knopf, 10–14 years.

Teen audiobooks
Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein, read by Morven Christie and Lucy Gaskell, Bolinda/Brilliance, 14–17 years.
Eve & Adam by Michael Grant and Katherine Applegate, read by Jenna Lamia and Holter Graham, Macmillan Audio, 14–17 years.
Pandemonium [Delirium trilogy] by Lauren Oliver, read by Sarah Drew, Listening Library, 14–17 years.
A Confusion of Princes by Garth Nix, read by Michael Goldstrom, Listening Library, 14–17 years.

These titles were featured in the May 2013 issue of Notes from the Horn Book.

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Elizabeth Wein’s Code Name Verity was among the best of last year’s young adult fiction, and this audio version does it justice. Here is the intimate story of two young women — unlikely best friends — in WWII: one is a British spy in a Nazi prison; the other is a pilot. One has a chance; the other is doomed. But which is which? Wein’s intricately plotted thriller receives a fine audio treatment, one that heightens the book’s considerable emotion and suspense. The contrast between the refined aristocratic accents of one of the women and the working-class accents of the other, through the use of two different narrators, Morven Christie and Lucy Gaskell, helps listeners follow the book’s intricate (but ultimately oh-so-rewarding) plot. (Bolinda Audio/Brilliance Audio, 14–17 years)

In another thriller, Michael Grant and Katherine Applegate’s futuristic sci-fi Eve & Adam, two genetically modified teens come together to fight the growing amorality of the biotech firm their parents founded years ago. Chapters alternate between the perspectives of Evening, daughter of the powerful and feared mogul Terra Spiker, and Solo, an orphan living at Spiker Biotech. Narrators Jenna Lamia and Holter Graham respectively read these parts, with Graham also taking on the role of Adam, Eve’s “perfect man,” whom she creates believing that her genetic engineering is only a computer simulation. The narrators handle all the intrigue, action, and philosophical issues raised as the teens take on the evil scientists and reshape a love triangle into a square. (Macmillan Audio, 14–17 years)

Sarah Drew excels in her narration of Pandemonium, the second book in Lauren Oliver’s dystopian trilogy, set in a society where love is a (surgically) preventable disease and those infected are exiled, imprisoned, or worse. Pandemonium opens where the first book, Delirium, left off, in the days immediately following Lena’s escape into the Wilds; the narrative then shifts back and forth between this early period and a present-day that sees her joining the Resistance in New York. Spoken chapter headers differentiate each shift in time and help immensely with listeners’ comprehension. Lena’s narrative crackles with passion and urgency, perfectly befitting a protagonist who realizes early on that if she wants to be a lover, she’ll have to be a fighter, too. (Listening Library, 14–17 years)

Garth Nix’s sci-fi coming-of-age adventure A Confusion of Princes balances highly inventive world-building with a true understanding of the adolescent male mindset. Khemri, raised as a Prince of the Empire, has a rude awakening when he realizes that in order to become Emperor he must enter a brutal and perilous contest with a host of other equally overconfident and entitled Princes. Then he realizes that if he wins the contest, he must sacrifice his humanity. Narrator Michael Goldstrom imbues Khemri with just the right combination of hubris, heart, and naiveté as he survives the treacherous attacks of other Princes, fights off pirates, engages in space battles, falls in love, and ultimately outwits the Empire. Cinematic, action-packed, and quite profound, A Confusion of Princes is a movie waiting to happen, but until then, this well-produced audio version will keep listeners engaged until the final, surprising twist. (Listening Library, 14–17 years)

From the May 2013 issue of Notes from the Horn Book.

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Is there a bigger baseball fan in the children’s book world than Matt Tavares? His sixth title on the sport, Becoming Babe Ruth, shines a light on George Herman “Babe” Ruth’s charitable side. At the turn of the twentieth century, young George’s delinquent ways land him at Saint Mary’s, a local industrial boarding school. There he meets Brother Matthias, whose majestic home runs in the schoolyard enthrall the boy. Years later when a fire destroys the school, Ruth shows that he hasn’t forgotten his roots. Tavares’s mixed-media illustrations expertly convey the Babe’s charm. (Candlewick, 4–7 years)

In 1936, two baseball players had something to prove. Was twenty-one-year-old Joe DiMaggio ready for the Major Leagues? Should Satchel Paige, pitching great in the Negro Leagues, be playing in the Majors? Something to Prove: The Great Satchel Paige vs. Rookie Joe DiMaggio by Robert Skead explores the game, between the Dick Bartell’s All Stars and the Satchel Paige All-Stars teams, that tested the men’s mettle. Skead portrays the larger issue of race and justice in America while superbly developing the game’s tension inning by inning. Floyd Cooper’s brown-toned illustrations nicely evoke the dreamy reminiscences of baseball legend. (Carolrhoda, 4–7 years)

Hoop Genius: How a Desperate Teacher and a Rowdy Gym Class Invented Basketball by John Coy begins with one James Naismith taking over an unruly gym class. He needs a game where “accuracy was more valuable than force,” and so basketball was concocted. Coy’s spare, precise language reflects the sport’s welcome order as well as its athletic appeal. Joe Morse’s kinetic paintings, at once dynamic and controlled, capture basketball’s combination of power and finesse. (Carolrhoda, 4–7 years)

In the 1930s, when airplanes were still new, young Betty Skelton played with toy planes when other girls played with dolls. Daredevil: The Daring Life of Betty Skelton details the life of the “First Lady of Firsts.” She was a record-breaking aerobatic pilot and auto racer; the first female boat jumper; and she even trained with the Mercury 7 astronauts. Author-illustrator Meghan McCarthy’s signature pictures, featuring bug-eyed characters and a vivid palette, accompany her soaring tale of a little girl with big dreams. (Wiseman/Simon, 4–7 years)

From the May 2013 issue of Notes from the Horn Book.

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Sugar by Jewell Parker Rhodes is the story of a spirited ten-year-old African American girl who works on a Louisiana sugarcane plantation (and hates her namesake). Sugar’s mother died two years ago, and families are leaving the Reconstruction south for a better life up north; except for her secret friendship with plantation owner’s son Billy, she feels increasingly alone. When a group of Chinese sugarcane workers arrives, it’s outgoing Sugar who reaches out and unites two very different communities. Rhodes brings Sugar’s experiences — and the Mississippi River setting — vividly to life with spare, evocative language. (Little, Brown, 8–12 years)

In Kirkpatrick Hill’s Bo at Ballard Creek, we meet a little girl who lives with her papas (yes, that’s plural) in an almost-worked-out gold-rush town in 1920s Alaska. Papa Jack and Papa Arvid explain to Bo that her mother was a “good-time girl” who unceremoniously dropped baby Bo into Arvid’s arms and left town. Reminiscent of Little House in the Big Woods, this cheerful episodic story follows Bo through the course of a year. The simple pen-and-ink drawings further the Wilder resemblance, but LeUyen Pham’s are more sophisticated, befitting the era and situations. (Holt, 8–12 years)

Devoted readers anxious to know what happened to Montana homesteader Hattie after Newbery Honor–winning Hattie Big Sky get their wish in Kirby Larson’s big-city sequel, Hattie Ever After. Hattie follows a traveling vaudeville troupe to San Francisco to pursue her dream of becoming a reporter. Larson’s excellent research makes the early twentieth century come alive: Hattie experiences an earthquake, flies in an airplane, and interviews President Woodrow Wilson. Fans will be gratified by the protagonist’s transformation from a “country mouse” into a confident, independent young woman. (Delacorte, 10–14 years)

In One Came Home by Amy Timberlake, thirteen-year-old Georgie Burkhardt is content with her life in Placid, Wisconsin. When older sister Agatha is found dead (but unrecognizable) at the side of the road, Georgie is certain that there has been a mistake. With her sister’s unwelcome suitor Billy McCabe, Georgie sets off to find her sister, or, at least, to find out how she died. The adversarial relationship between Georgie and Billy provides superb comic relief in this gripping, gritty 1870s–set story. (Knopf, 10–14 years)

From the May 2013 issue of Notes from the Horn Book.

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In David Martin’s Peep and Ducky, two bird pals meet in the park for an idyllic play date. Peep and Ducky romp in a mud puddle, have snacks, take a pee break (side by side on their port-a-potties), fight over a bucket until it breaks, apologize, and dig in the sand. The simple and repetitive rhyming text is great fun to read aloud; the springlike pastel colors of David Walker’s illustrations fill in the chubby figures with a comfortable solidity. (Candlewick, 1–4 years)

Young Phoebe scores a toy truck (yay!) at the same time she acquires a baby sister (boo!) in Tricia Springstubb’s Phoebe and Digger. When her harried mother finally takes Phoebe and the (not-always-adorable) little baby to the park, Phoebe and Digger have a blast. A scaredy-cat “crybaby boy” lands her in time-out, and, later, a bully snatches Digger up, but in the end Phoebe learns that, in a family, it doesn’t have to be every girl for herself. Jeff Newman’s mixed-media illustrations play up the tale’s small moments and big emotions. (Candlewick, 3–6 years)

Everyone Can Learn to Ride a Bicycle is Chris Raschka’s straightforward account of one young girl’s perseverance and triumph over her two-wheeled vehicle. A grandfatherly figure’s encouragement makes up the second-person text (“And now you’ll never forget how”). Raschka’s loose watercolor images bespeak protection, urging, assistance, and commiseration (after a fall). While the title’s “everyone” may be a bit of an exaggeration, it reflects this book’s infectious optimism. (Schwartz & Wade/Random, 3–6 years)

From spring planting to winterization, George Ancona’s full-color photographs in It’s Our Garden: From Seeds to Harvest in a School Garden chronicle a year in the life of a garden at an elementary school in Santa Fe. Students are shown composting soil, watering plants, raising butterflies, and sampling the edible delights. Ancona’s no-nonsense prose style is perfectly suited for newly independent readers. (Candlewick, 5–8 years)

From the May 2013 issue of Notes from the Horn Book.

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