Here's a book with lots of starred reviews — and lots of controversy. What will the Caldecott committee make of that? Some will be reading every review and blog post they can find about each of their nominated books, while others will stay away from social media and review journals all year. While it might be interesting to look at how various committees handle social media, we won't be doing that now. Maybe later, or maybe it's better to leave that beast alone. This post will just look at this one book. Plenty!

The Secret Project, illustrated by Jeanette Winter, is about atomic bomb research and testing at Los Alamos, New Mexico, during WWII, and was written by Winter's son, Jonah Winter. It stands out because of its subject matter and because of the stark ending, which will undoubtedly lead to questions from children. Compared to other books on the bomb, this seems to be for a very young audience. As most of us know, children don't shy away from asking difficult questions. How will adults answer those questions? Will teachers and librarians even put themselves in a position where they might have to explain such discouraging information?

If you haven't seen this book yet, I may be getting ahead of myself. Let's go back a bit.

When I pick up a book illustrated by Jeanette Winter, I know what to expect. Her art is tranquil and neat, with simplified settings showing repeated shapes and flat colors. Somehow, the overall effect is not antiseptic; it's cozy. When I saw the subject of this book, I wondered how she could possibly illustrate a story so full of complexity, secrecy, and — let's be frank — the potential destruction of life on this planet. The first three quarters of the book are classic Winter, with cleanly imagined settings in tidy squares. And then, amazingly, she goes for it. As the scientists crouch down and wait for the first atomic bomb test detonation, the white space surrounding her images changes to a dark green. The text reads simply, "The countdown begins" and the page-turn reveals a dark green spread with no art. Just words in various sizes and shades — "Ten. Nine. Eight" — counting down to the smallest and lightest — "One…" Next, two wordless spreads show a sequence of four vertical rectangles with the infamous growing mushroom cloud. There is just one more spread, so what will that page turn reveal? Where is she going and what will she choose? The answer is: nothing. All we see is a flat black spread. Questions, anyone?

Because this is a modern-day information book, there is back matter to help answer some of those questions. The answers provided are stark, but they also contain a seed of hope, suggesting that it may someday be possible to reduce the number of nuclear weapons on this planet.

My adult self is so awed by the art and design of this book that it is difficult for me to imagine how I might have reacted as a child. When I first heard about nuclear weapons and their potential (at around age 6), my world view changed for good. Adult reassurance that the worst would "probably never happen" didn't help. Would I want to be the adult who changed a child's life in this way? Honestly, no. Do I think this book is gutsy, honest about its primary subject, and uses the picture book form to its fullest extent? Yes.

This might have been the end of my post. Except, remember that controversy? The Secret Project was published early in 2017. Soon after that, Debbie Reese (a Nambe Pueblo Indian woman and author of the "American Indians in Children's Literature" blog) pointed out some problems, and so did Edward T. Sullivan (author of The Ultimate Weapon: The Race to Develop the Atomic Bomb, 2007).

Reese has two primary objections. The text mentions Hopi Indians "in the faraway nearby," a repeated phrase Jonah Winter uses to get across the idea that there were very few people living near the test zone. A Hopi artist is shown "carving beautiful dolls out of wood," and Reese explains not only that the Winters' use of the term "kachina dolls" is archaic but that they are not dolls or toys but specific figures, each with a distinct spiritual significance. [Preceding edits made after posting] Reese doesn't elaborate on the specifics because their significance is private. I get the impression that these figures should not be appropriated by non-Native people unless they fully understand their significance, and it's unlikely that such details would be revealed to an outsider. Moving on to her second objection, Reese explains that the area around Los Alamos was far from empty. While Hopi people were living about 300 miles away, there was a Pueblo reservation much closer. Reese herself grew up 30 miles away. Why, she asks, does the text focus on Hopi people 300 miles away when there were San Ildefonso Pueblo only 17 miles from the blast site? She asserts that the text erases some of the native people in that area.

Sullivan believes that The Secret Project's attempt to write about the first atomic bomb in a picture book is "ambitious" and "laudable," but he describes the text as "misleading" due to various "factual errors and omissions" in descriptions of the project. Can the problems Sullivan points out be explained by the Winters' wish to translate a complicated situation into a narrative young children can understand? Will the committee, as part of their research, read Sullivan's book, as well as Steve Sheinkin's Bomb: The Race to Build — and Steal — the World's Most Dangerous Weapon? There's no question that being on the Caldecott committee involves reading more than than just picture books.

If I were on the Caldecott committee this year, The Secret Project would have started out on my personal Top Ten list. But I would also need to assess the problems that Reese and Sullivan point out. While it is clear that the Winters did substantial research, it is also clear that their research did not go far enough and did not include the best possible sources.

I am among the vast majority of people in this country who do not know enough about its indigenous populations. I wish my elementary-school geography and history lessons had devoted as much time to the actual history and roots of this land as they did to Columbus and the "discovery" of the New World. If they had, maybe everyone involved in creating and reviewing this book would have caught the errors Reese points out before the book was printed. I think the real tragedy of this situation is that our collective ignorance may have sunk what would otherwise have been an amazing and groundbreaking book.

So, can this book win the Caldecott? Can any book with a lot of controversy surrounding it win? My opinion is that the medal will never go to a book with a lot of social-media controversy. For a book to win, it needs a majority of first place votes. That's eight of the fifteen people discussing the books.

That's my hunch.

Read the starred Horn Book Magazine review of The Secret Project.

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