Publishers

Who is publishing books for readers with children, East Asian culture, Asian-American concerns, education, and imagination in mind? I have been web-surfing and sifting through google searches. The very short list below excludes major publishing houses (Simon and Schuster, Random House, etc.) and publishers of general children's literature (e.g., Candlewick), whose broad reach does include excellent books that overlap with this blog's interests. But here, my purpose is to bring attention to the more focused missions of smaller companies. I believe that there are others that belong on this list, and I'm hoping that readers will write in and add to it.

Children's Book Press
  Nonprofit publisher of multicultural and bilingual literature for children

http://www.thingsasianpress.com/
  Publisher of travel and cultural books about Asia for children and others

http://www.shens.com/
  Publisher of multicultural children’s literature that emphasizes cultural diversity and tolerance, with a focus on introducing children to the cultures of Asia. 

http://www.cheng-tsui.com/
  Independent publisher of Asian language and culture learning materials for students and adults.


http://peripluspublishinggroup.com/tuttle/
  Tuttle Publishing, founded by Charles E. Tuttle in Tokyo in 1948, publishes "books to span the East and West," including crafts, cookbooks, and other genres appealing to children and adults.


http://www.leeandlow.com/
  A family-owned company with a major goal of the company is to meet the need for stories that children of color can identify with and that all children can enjoy. In addition, we make a special effort to work with writers and illustrators of color, 




I will continue to add to this list, but in the meantime, I am also beginning to explore the world of eBooks. How will eBooks change the way we read and learn? Are there eBooks out there that exploit the new possibilities when it comes to learning about another culture and cross-cultural understanding? These are questions that will be on my mind as I continue reading and reviewing in 2011.

Seasonal Greetings

We have the very good fortune of enjoying these snowy days, chilly nights, and crackling fires with friends and family. We hope that you have that good fortune, too. In the days and months to come, we hope for more peace, compassion, and community in our world, and we will look for ways to make hope come into being.

As the holidays bring a change from routine, I have been reading other blogs, and here I offer several blogs that may be of interest to you. Their authors write about children's literature, authors of color, and writing.

http://asiaintheheart.blogspot.com/

http://collectingchildrensbooks.blogspot.com/

http://www.vintagechildrensbooksmykidloves.com/

http://thejoyofchildrensliterature.blogspot.com/

http://planetesme.blogspot.com/

Cynthea Liu

http://coloronline.blogspot.com/

Ruby Lu's debut

Lenore Look (author) and Anne Wilsdorf (illustrator)
Ruby Lu, Brave and True
Simon and Schuster, 2004

A nautical and expressive someone (Hemingway?) once wrote that the most interesting journey includes a thousand tacks. For this blog, I'm reading in a manner circuitous and non-sequential. The name Ruby Lu has a lovely rhythm and sound to it, rather like Poe's Annabel Lee, and you'll probably remember her from an earlier review of the sequel book here. Ruby Lu, Brave and True doesn't have the same consistent flow of the later book, but there are satisfying moments when everything—actions, dialogue, meaning—does come together. The theme of magic tricks, sleights of hand, and performance run through the book, but these scenes are less captivating than, say, Ruby's clever and reinforcing combination of learning Chinese (Cantonese dialect) and learning to drive. Much of the book seemed like a series of loosely-linked skits for the purpose of introducing characters, added but not joined and in a constant state of flux. The pace and content settle into a comfortable stride with the anticipated arrival of Ruby's cousin, Flying Duck. There is much, including the Glossary, that (in retrospect) takes an embryonic form, waiting for Ruby Lu, Empress of Everything to develop fully.

Young family grows

Ed Young
My Mei Mei
Philomel, 2006

Jieh Jieh (jiejie 姐姐), older sister Antonia, tells the story of wishing for a little sister and of that wish coming true. But before adopting Mei Mei (妹妹), Antonia practices by wiping Mommy's nose and changing Baba's diapers. Only after Mei Mei finally joins the family does Antonia come to a full realization of the consequences bad, namely less attention, and good, pride and camaraderie beyond her imagination, of having a sister. Of Ed Young's books, My Mei Mei, is probably most personal. His illustrations, combining a range of vintage floral patterns and dreamy color drawings, have the feel of a beloved family album, and appropriately, he includes a photograph and short note about his daughters at the book's end.

Freedom wrings

Belle Yang
Hannah Is My Name
Candlewick, 2004

  Through Hannah, we learn about the anxieties and trials of immigration for a Taiwanese family in San Francisco. Among other things, Hannah must learn a new language, bid farewell to a friend whose family is deported to Hong Kong, and flee the hotel where her father works when an immigration officer comes for an inspection. But her daily trial is one shared by the entire family, waiting for green cards. At last the cards arrive, and Hannah proudly takes ownership of her American name and her legal status.
  Belle Yang's story and illustrations are bright and upbeat, rendering the immigration narrative accessible and minimizing the stress. But, the book's decided ambiguity generates its own anxieties. Why is Hannah's family rewarded with green cards, when her friend's family is deported? What are the ethics of immigration? "Freedom" is repeated a number of times, and we wonder, why is it that the so-called land of the free grants freedom to some and not others?

Do unto others

Ed Young
I, Doko: The Tale of a Basket
Philomel, 2004

I did not expect a story told by a basket to be so deeply affecting. I won't take away from the book's punch, so I will only say that the measure of a person should be judged by how she treats her weakest fellow human beings. The same is true of a society, a civilization. Ed Young's unembellished prose and the searing expressions of his figures help us imagine ourselves in the position of the weak, and make I, Doko a memorable book.

Journey by Journal

Andrea Cheng (author) and Ed Young (illustrator)

Shanghai Messenger

Lee and Low, 2005

May Johanson tells her story of a week-long journey from Ohio to Shanghai to visit relatives through a series of finely honed prose-poems that read like spontaneous journal entries. Only eleven years old, May travels alone, and as her Nai Nai bids her, she is to be a messenger between branches of the family that immigrated and that remained in China.

  May is scared and homesick, but her aunties and uncles shower her with affection. Moreover, her keen observation of the distinctive world around her capture and hold her attention. The way Auntie takes care to use every morsel of filling in her wontons, the way the city smells of mist and gasoline and fish, the way children of all ages can meet and instantly play together without anxiety—these aspects of everyday life draw May into the present, and we follow her lead into a lovingly described place. 

  Cheng's story is gentle, but we feel it is authentic (even to the point where her use of Nai Nai for mother's mother can be overlooked). We grow with May's experiences, and like her, we now see that our world is bigger and we hope for opportunities for increased connections. Ed Young's sketches convey a feeling of absorption and memory appropriate for the story, and his two-page spread of folks practicing tai chi offers a moment of suspended animation, a perfect metaphor for May's turning point.

Finding Her Voice

Grace Lin
The Year of the Dog
Little Brown, 2006

Pacy, as she is known to her family, also has an American name, Grace; and the dual names emblematize the theme of identity, which percolates throughout The Year of the Dog. Grace, both the character and author Grace Lin, is uneasy but still gracious in fielding that oh-so-vexing question, "What are you?" Grace is Chinese, but also Taiwanese and, as her mother helpfully insists, American. What alternatives are at hand to that question? I am reminded of geographer and humanist Yifu Tuan's response to the sister question, "Where are you from?" He honestly and willfully replies, "Earth." Is there another way around questions such as these? How about replacing them with a more personal and interesting, "What is your name, and what do you like to do?" Will that day come?
  But I digress. The Year of the Dog takes us from one Lunar New Year to the next, during which time Pacy/Grace tries to find her calling. Loyal readers will not be surprised when a story about ugly vegetables crops up. But, there are satisfying surprises, particularly in the short stories told by Pacy/Grace's mother. They speak to the time and distance that the family has traveled, and to the integrity and ingenuity of individuals within the family.
  Much of the book is satisfying, and I would agree that Lin has achieved her goal of writing a book that she wishes was around when she was growing up (I wish it were, too). She even tackles the difficult issues of cultural authenticity when Pacy/Grace is confronted by Taiwanese speaking peers at a Chinese/Taiwanese/American family camp. My one lingering question concerns Pacy/Grace's friend, Becky Williams, who seemed to be left somewhat thoughtlessly by the wayside as Pacy/Grace pursues a new friendship with Melody Ling, whose similarities make the two girls "almost twins." Is there an unintended message here?

Friends

Belle Yang
Chili-Chili-Chin-Chin
Harcourt Brace, 1999

The eponymous donkey of Belle Yang's book is feisty and independent toward all but its best friend, a rosy-cheeked little Chinese boy. The donkey tells the story of a fierce love for the boy. Yang's bright illustrations done in a folk art style seduce readers into the colorful utopia where humans and beasts (excepting the rather pathetic looking ox) frolic in flower-filled fields. The book is story-light, but young mimics will naturally gravitate to the together-ness theme and take to chanting Chili-Chili-Chin-Chin.

Stones with your cherries?

Tim Myers (author) and Oki S. Han (illustrator)
Basho and the River Stones
Marshall Cavendish, 2004

I reviewed Tim Myers' Tanuki's Gift on Thanksgiving, and now with Basho and the River Stones I feel gratitude again for his writing. Again, the theme is friendship and the things in life that really matter. Matsuo Basho, Myers' informs us, is one of Japan's most famous poets. While two haiku capture the deep feelings of the book's two characters, Basho and a shape-shifting fox, poems are not the focus. Instead, the book moves from greed (over cherries) to deception to anger and disappointment. Then, with a moment of insight, those emotions dissolve into gratitude and honor on the part of the former victim, and shame and resolve to make amends on the part of the perpetrator. In a world where injustice and inequality are altogether too common, Myers' Basho helps us to remember plenitude and joy and humor, and to act in forthright and compassionate ways. Oki S. Han's illustrations vibrate with color and immerse us, as Basho's river stones, in a world of sensory satisfaction.

Simple pleasures

Chih-Yuan Chen
On My Way to Buy Eggs
Kane/Miller, 2001

The simple walk to the neighborhood store to buy eggs turns into an exploration of the senses and imagination for Shau-yu (小魚,
in pinyin, Xiaoyu, meaning little fish). Through shadow play, she walks on the roof; with a glass marble, she sees the world in blue; in the crunch of leaves, she hears cookies being munched; and with a pair of glasses, she becomes her mother. She returns with childhood treasures to share and, of course, eggs. Chen's prose and accompanying pictures do not shout for attention, rather, they reward readers with a childlike focus.

More Japanese kitties

Margaret Hodges (adapted by)
and Aki Sogabe (illustrations)
The Boy Who Drew Cats
Holiday House, 2002

Margaret Hodges' story of Japanese zen monk and artist Sesshū Tōyō (1420-1506) as a boy is charming and suspenseful. In many ways, the young Sesshū is like any other boy, quick but easily distracted. But his obsession with painting cats everywhere—temple columns and walls, and fusuma (sliding doors)—sets him apart. The habit impels the narrative forward and generates the happy ending. Aki Sogabe's illustrations rise to the challenge of depicting one of Japan's most famous artists. They have the thick line and flat colors of modern woodblock prints, which might sound dull, but quite the opposite. The images are fresh, and the expressive cats, which teeter towards madness in their bizarre combination of domestication and wildness, steal the show.

Slow and steady

Barbara Helen Berger
All the Way to Lhasa: A Tale from Tibet
Philomel Books, 2002

Less dramatic, nevertheless quietly powerful is Barbara Helen Berger's story of a young boy's journey to Lhasa. The obvious comparison is Aesop's fable featuring a tortoise and a hare. In both instances the lesson is to practice steadiness in striving toward a goal, but the Tibetan tale the lesson expands more easily to encompass non-competitive situations. Quiet resolve and courage are not pitted against smugness, as Aesop would have it. Rather, those virtues succeed where anxiousness, which diverts and saps one's energies, creates its own obstacle. It's a lesson well worth learning, and learning sooner than later. Berger's gentle prose draw us into the simple, but profound story.

Child makes her world a better place

Mercer Mayer
Shibumi and the Kitemaker
Marshall Cavendish, 1999

Readers with some background in Japanese history and culture will see immediately that Mayer's story of a princess, Shibumi, and her wish for a more equitable and flourishing city is pieced together with his own imagination. The well-crafted story recalls early on the life of the historical Buddha and maintains the quality of a folk-tale. In addition, Mayer's illustrations follow the same pattern, inserting a famous Shinto sculpture here, then drawing freely from Japanese styles of art and architecture elsewhere. Perhaps these aspects explain why I found this book in the folk-tale and not the picture book section of a local, public library. Contradicting historical patterns, Mayer places his emperor in a shogun's castle and gives him a loyal samurai. But the truths of parents' love for their child and of a child's yearning for an ideal world are incontestable.

In the shelter of giants

Jason Chin
Redwoods
Flashpoint, 2009

Young, urban boy bearing a notable resemblance to author and illustrator Jason Chin picks up a duplicate copy of Redwoods, which re-routes his F train to the redwood forest of the Pacific northwest. Avid readers of children's books will see and hear echoes of other publishing successes. The images and narrative arc remind me of David Weisner's Flotsom; the non-fiction data embedded in the adventure story recall the Magic Tree House series; and the book (as a portkey) and subway make me think of Harry Potter. But the protagonists of this book are redwood trees themselves. The little boy, like the pictures and the prose, is there to help us wrap our comparatively minute selves around the sheer time-space parameters of these trees. We count ourselves lucky to live 60 or 80 years and reach a height closer to 6 feet; by contrast, redwoods live 2,000 years and reach 370 feet. But such impressive numbers are still dry facts compared to embodied experience. For those who have not yet made the journey to the Avenue of the Giants, Redwoods can help with imagining it.

Just ducky

Chih-yuan Chen
Guji Guji
Kane/Miller 2004

Chen's sweet story about a crocodile adopted by a principled and loving duck drew inspiration from her American friend of Korean ancestry who was adopted into a non-Korean family. And although Guji Guji was first published in Taiwan, it transcends national, ethnic, and cultural boundaries to give us a valuable lesson about what really matters.

A sage for our time, too

Russell Freedman (author) and Frédéric Clement (illustrator)
Confucius: The Golden Rule
Scholastic, 2002

Combining hagiography, biography, history, and political commentary, Freedman reanimates the life and teachings of the fifth-century BCE sage Confucius, or Kongzi 孔子. Freedman's writing is eminently accessible, but at times, I wished he would exercise more discretion. Some casual claims about, say, the feel of the town marketplace, are improbable window dressing; and myths and legends receive the same treatment as historical persons and events. Further, I wished for more careful, bilingual editing, as the character for li 禮 (meaning ritual) is mistakenly written li 利 (meaning profit). Clement's illustrations have a strange, otherworldly and nostalgic feel, with bits of fruit and flowers scattered almost artfully across torn and fading images. Such aspects of writing and illustrations prove frustrating for the reader keen on minimizing the ingredients of Orientalism. Still, Freedman's thoughtful engagement with some of the ideas rang alarmingly true. I apprciated his discussion on the rectification of names, meaning, for example, calling only those who act with wisdom and benevolence  kings. Now, just as in the past, Freedman rightly points out, we have so-called leaders who clearly are not leading.

On the inside covers, Freedman includes sayings from Confucius' Analects, aphorisms to live by. Here is one of which, in my capacity as reviewer and writer, I am especially mindful: I am fortunate indeed. Whenever I make a mistake, there is always someone to notice it.

Halloween treat

Jon J. Muth
Zen Ghosts
Scholastic, 2010

I believe that this is the third book by Jon Muth featuring a Zen master-panda aptly named Stillwater. Like Zen Shorts (2005), this new book wraps the everyday activities of siblings Addy, Michael, and Karl around a pre-modern, but timeless story. Michael's indecision about whether to dress as an owl or as a pirate launches the book's theme of identity and opposing impulses. Stillwater invites the children to a post-trick-or-treating ghost story. He draws and tells the tale of Senjo, whose romantic love for Ochu and filial love for her father lead literally to divided selves. Senjo's two selves achieve resolution when she and Ochu decide to take responsibility for their youthful decision to run away together. The embedded ghost story is happy, not eerie; and the lesson is about recognizing and honoring the contradictions in one's being. As always, Muth's watercolor illustrations invite contemplation and offer much satisfaction. The embedded story has, for contrast, primarily ink pictures, which generate the Oz-like effect of making Stillwater "real." Do we ever stop to wonder about the mash-up that is a Zen (read Japanese) panda (read Chinese)? Does that matter? If we follow Muth's encouragement and embrace the Buddhist ideal of non-duality (Muth explains more in the author's note), it's moot. Read, and be still.

Lee and Low book giveaway

On Thanksgiving eve, I reviewed Demi's book about Su Shi, and I just noticed that Lee and Low publishers have a drawing for a free, signed copy. Enter here. Good luck!

Hello kitties

Last time I went to the library, I noticed at least three children's books that featured Japanese cats. I was struck by this high incidence of felines, but then I remembered Hello Kitty, and had a moment of "Duh, of course!" I'll get to all of these books in due time. Cat lovers and Japanophiles, here is the first one.

In Eric A. Kimmel's Three Samurai Cats, a brute of a rat terrorizes a hapless daimyo, or feudal lord, who seeks help from the eponymous three samurai cats. The rat makes short shrift of the first two felines, despite their show of force. The third, rather decrepit-looking cat tests the daimyo's patience with his opaque strategy, but the rat finally succumbs to his gluttonous appetite for glutinous treats. Kimmel's lively prose is nicely matched with Mordicai Gerstein's comic images.

Eric A. Kimmel (author) and Mordicai Gerstein (illustrator)
Three Samurai Cats: A Story from Japan
Holiday House, 2003

Alvin Ho, Boy

Lenore Look
Alvin Ho: Allergic to Girls, School, and Other Scary Things
Schwartz and Wade, 2008

I had previously reviewed two other books by Lenore Look (Uncle Peter's Amazing Chinese Wedding  and Ruby Lu, Empress of Everything), and I was primed to enjoy this one about Alvin Ho. I especially looked forward to reading about adventures of a Chinese-American boy. I was charmed by Alvin, who, with all of his eccentricities, reminded me of Woody Allen. And, toward the end of the book, Alvin does visit with a psychotherapist, marking a turning point in his young life. Not because, but despite the therapist visit, Alvin makes admirable progress in coping with his many "allergies," standing up to a bully, choosing to play with his real friends, and all-around becoming a gentleman. The book is funny, but all the witticisms (which come fast and furious) eventually left me feeling a little deflated. In addition, Alvin's environs, the comfy uber-American Cambridge of Thoreau and Alcott and the Boston Red Sox, also left me a little cold. Look's snappy writing keeps entertaining, but the west coast in me couldn't help wondering by the end if there wasn't more there there. Although Alvin is a second-grader, the writing seems better suited for the slightly to much older, who can appreciate the humor in, say, a classmate named Hobson, "who always gives you a choice."

Grace Lin's bread and butter

Grace Lin

The Ugly Vegetables

Talewinds, 1999

Chinese food offers for Grace Lin an endless source of book material. Her The Ugly Vegetables recounts in bright pictures and pared down sentences her slow but sure affection for her mother's gardening and cooking skills. At first, when neighbors' flowers bloom, she feels mixed about her family's decidedly un-photogenic plantings. But after the neighbors join the family in a hearty post-harvest meal, she couldn't be prouder. With a guide to Chinese vegetables and soup recipe.

I especially like Fortune Cookie Fortunes, which conveys a quirkier and wittier point of view. As with her other books, this one features her family, each of whom opens a cookie to reveal a revealing fortune. Delightful and delicious.

Grace Lin

Fortune Cookie Fortunes

Alfred A. Knopf, 2004

Daddy's little helper

Louise Vitellaro Tidd (author)
and Dorothy Handelman (photographs)
Let Me Help!
Millbrook, 1999

Photos of a cute Asian girl and her patient father accompany a book about helping. She helps with shelving books, potting plants, and laundry, but overreaches. When grocery shopping, she has learned to slow down and be careful. Following her dad's lead, she has also learned patience and good humor toward others.

Speaking out and fitting in

Peggy Moss (author) and Lea Lyon (illustrator)
Say Something
Tilbury, 2004

  A pair of books by Peggy Moss tackles the perennial and thorny challenges of school socialization. Say Something gives quiet kids a reassuring nudge: practice and then speak out, and you can change the situation for the better. Say "hi" to the kid who sits alone on the bus or at lunch, and say "that's enough" or "grow up" to bullying behaviors.
  In One of Us, Roberta James has just moved to a new school. On her first day she navigates among several cliques based on fashion, play, and food. In the face of the categorizing question, "What are you?" Roberta demonstrates laudable self-possession by answering, "I am a straight-up hair girl who climbs monkey bars and carries a flowered lunchbox with a pita roll-up in it." She finds a home among kids who refuse to be pigeon-holed and embrace difference.

Peggy Moss (author) 

and Penny Weber (illustrator)

One of Us

Tilbury, 2010

X-cultural X-mas

Pauline Chen
Peiling and the Chicken-fried Christmas
Bloomsbury, 2007

'Tis the season for lots of folly. It's a joyful time, sure, but we get a lot of mixed messages about what to want, what to give, how to feel, and so on. Pauline Chen's fifth-grade heroine, Peiling, longs to have Christmas, like everyone else. She convinces her Taiwanese-American family to celebrate the holiday for the first time, and predictably, it doesn't quite live up to her expectations. The theme of Chen's sympathetic story is identity, and readers with a literary bent will appreciate the embedded play, "The Prince and the Pauper," in which Peiling co-stars. Plot and characters are somewhat conventional, even the quirkiness of Peiling's teacher Miss Rosenweig is conventional. I also have an overly keen radar for things my mom would say, think, or want—that's just the baggage that comes with being an ABC—and there were moments when Peiling set it off. Perhaps this was deliberate, as Chen may get her tween audience to think about their parents' point of view, flawed but motivated by their best intentions. Light and warm and comforting...like a cup of instant milk tea.

Holiday book basket

Since starting this blog in early November, I think I've read at least fifty books and reviewed most of them. Thanks to you, I also have a list of about two dozen books waiting in the wings.

I have only just begun my project to review 365 books, and yet, it is really and truly difficult to pick a "top (arbitrary number here)." The situation is so stunningly different from my childhood. What a delightful difficulty!

These holiday book basket recommendations are intended to provide a variety, a little something for everyone for ages 0-10 or so, plus parents, aunties and uncles, grandparents, godparents, and friends. Overall, I'm aiming at enhancing library and personal library collections. You may have some of these already and want to supplement, or you may pick and choose according to your needs and desires. Also, please write in with your favorites.

Meanwhile, a happy thanksgiving to all.

Hyewon Yum, Last Night
  for ages 0-7, subtle pictures tell the story of stubbornness, imagination, and return to love

Minfong Ho and Holly Meade, Peek! A Thai Hide-and-Seek
  for ages 2-5, luscious pictures and animal sounds accompany peek-a-boo

Carol Crane and Zong-Zhou Wang, D Is for Dancing Dragon
  for ages 5-10, alphabetic journey through things Chinese

Taro Yashima, Umbrella
  for ages 4-8, a present for anticipating the future and remembering the past

Ed Young, Lon Po Po: A Red-Riding Hood Story from China
  for ages 5-10, ingenuity and resourceful triumph

Peggy Goldstein, Lóng is a Dragon: Chinese Writing for Children
  for ages 7-12, learn to write Chinese in a fun and engaging way

Margaret Mahy and Jean & Mou-sien Tseng, Seven Chinese Brothers
  for ages 5-10, brotherly compassion and superhuman qualities conquer imperial cruelty

Meomi, The Octonauts & the Only Lonely Monster
  for ages 4-10, motley crew go on an adventure and make a new friend

Grace Lin, Ling & Ting: Not Exactly the Same!
  for ages 5-9, everyday fun with Chinese-American twins

Lenore Look, Ruby Lu, Empress of Everything
  for ages 7-11, hilarious antics of Ruby and her cousin teach useful lessons in life in second grade and beyond

Starting tomorrow, I'll return to regular reviews. Happy shopping!

Give thanks

Tim Myers (author) and R.G. Roth (illustrator)
Tanuki's Gift: A Japanese Tale
Marshall Cavendish, 2003

A quiet story with watercolor collages lifts us into another world of modest, but nevertheless fully satisfying surroundings. The friendship between a Buddhist priest and a tanuki, or raccoon-dog, blossoms in the bareness of winter. Roth's exuberant images capture a full-body joy that we readers also share. Tim Myers' retelling reminds us of what is really important in life.

Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers, one and all.

China's Leonardo

If you haven't read a book by author Demi, then in your next spare moment, buy, borrow, or beg one. Her books are hands-down gorgeous. Su Dongpo, her illustrated biography of Su Shi (1036-1101) has page after page of splendid illustrations inspired by Chinese woodblock prints. Demi's prose is clear and accessible, and she doesn't try to compete with the poetry of Su Shi himself or Su's mentor Ouyang Xiu or the ageless Dao De Jing. Here, for example, is an excerpt from Su's most famous prose-poem on the Red Cliffs found 3/4 through the book:

Letting the boat go where it pleased,
we drifted over the immeasurable fields of water.
I felt a boundless exhilaration,
as though I were sailing on a void
or riding the wind
and didn't know where to stop.
I was filled with a lightness,
As though I had left the world
and were standing alone, or had sprouted wings
and were flying up to join the immortals!

 For those who wish to know more about this remarkable man, whose talents ranged from hydrological engineering to community service to the arts of poetry, calligraphy, and painting—Demi provides a solid list of sources at the book's beginning. Her use of pinyin Romanization isn't consistent (Renzong and Jentsung are both used for the same emperor, and Su Shih should really be Su Shi). There are other facts of Demi's biography that may also be debated, but my overall impression is  positive. Demi's respect for Su is authentic, and I'm so glad to see an appealing children's book about him.

Demi
Su Dongpo
Lee and Low Books, 2006

Little lost slippers everywhere

Yes, you guessed it: Cinderella. She's everywhere, and contrary to post-Disney American popular assumption, she appears earliest in Chinese literature (see Ai-ling Louie's note). The narrative core remains remarkably consistent from Chinese to Korean to Hmong examples, reviewed here. In all cases, we have a heroine who is as beautiful as she is long suffering. Her jealous step-mother and step-sisters heap abuse after abuse upon her, whether she is called Yeh-shen, Pear Blossom, or Jouanah. Supernatural forces intervene to allow her to attend a festival where a high status man sees her and falls instantly in love. Finally, a mate-less shoe serves as a token to reunite the couple. What make these folk tales interesting, though, are the differences. For example, the supernatural force may take the form of a magic fish, tokgabi goblins, or the hide of a deceased mother-turned-cow. Illustrations are especially important for making the story fresh. I like Ruth Heller's best for their fantastical and decorative qualities. Anne Sibley O'Brien strives for accuracy. The pictures by Ed Young, though beautiful, are a bit too ethereal and miss opportunities for narrative specificity. If you or your children are into Cinderella, exploring these other versions will probably be quite fun.

 

Ai-ling Louie (author) and Ed Young (illustrator)

Yeh-Shen: A Cinderella Story from China

Turtleback, 1996

Shirley Climo (author) and Ruth Heller (illustrator)

The Korean Cinderella

HarperCollins, 1993

Jewell Reinhart Coburn with Tzexa Cherta Lee (authors) and Anne Sibley O'Brien (illustrator)

Jouanah: A Hmong Cinderella

Shen's Books, 1996

Pass the soy sauce, please

Beijing's hungry ghost gourmand has met his match in Ying Chang Compestine's chubby little hero. Chub-chub's stalling tactics keep hungry ghost on the run all through the night, vainly preparing for a mouth-watering feast of boy dumplings. At dawn's light, the ghost wails à la Wicked Witch of the West (I'm melting!) before disappearing like a bad genie into little boy's paper lantern. James Yamasaki's slapstick, campy pictures accompany the eclectic, comedic escapade. Fun for a Halloween state-of-mind.

Ying Chang Compestine (author) and James Yamasaki (illustrator)
Boy Dumplings
Holiday House, 2009

Writing pictures

Two idiomatic phrases in the Chinese culture and in the west, respectively, yoke together images and words. Chinese scholar-painters, hewing to high-minded literary ideals, liked to think of their artistic practice as "writing pictures." Thus, their paintings would be infused with poetic and calligraphic sensibility. In the west, the phrase "a picture paints a thousand words" suggests how a single image can capture and convey in an instant a human saga. Pictures have a way of reaching across cultures and generations. Here are three books that deal, in different ways, with painting and childhood.

What I liked best about Peter's Painting was that Peter's ethnicity (signaled by facial features, hair texture, etc.) was purely incidental. Peter is an everychild, who channels his creativity into paintings of a bird that flies, a snake that slithers, and a fish that swims. Finally, Peter paints a door that opens into—you guessed it—the colorful world that Peter created. The text is simple and repetitive (think Eric Carle's Brown Bear, Brown Bear).  And while the text and illustrations aren't the most memorable, it is refreshing to have a book in which a child with Asian features is treated just like anyone, and everyone else.

Before emigrating to Canada (following the Tiananmen tragedy of 1989), Song Nan Zhang experienced the ups and downs of life under Communism in the People's Republic of China, and eventually attained a professorial post in Beijing. Zhang channels his life, his optimism, and his talent into The Children of China: An Artist's Journey, which is one part autobiography, one part children's coffee-table book, and one part illustrated ethnography.  Each of these parts is compelling in its own way: Zhang's story is inspiring and hopeful, the book is filled with his colorful and sensitive paintings of children, and the children hail from many ethnicities that make up the PRC, including Tibetans, Mongolians, Kazakhs, Uygurs, and Yi. The map at the book's beginning helps us to locate the paintings geographically, and I like how easily the book replaces a mono-ethnic view of China. But because the book doesn't fit easily into any particular genre, presenting it to your children may be a challenge. It might be better consumed as a coffee table book, in a leisurely, non-linear fashion, and certainly it would be great in a classroom setting.

Zheng Zhensun and Alice Low's book about Wang Yani, A Young Painter, discusses the life and work of a talented girl from toddler-hood to early adolescence. The book is filled with photographs of Yani at work and at play, and lots of her paintings. The ones of mischievous monkeys are absolutely delightful. The book is substantial non-fiction (80 pages, including appendix, glossary, map, and index), and is thus especially rewarding for art enthusiasts. But, the many colorful paintings would be wonderful inspiration
to wider audiences old and young.

Sally Moss (author) Meredith Thomas (illustrator)

Peter's Painting

Mondo, 1995

Song Nan Zhang

The Children of China: An Artist's Journey

Tundra Books, 1995

Zheng Zhensun and Alice Low (authors)
A Young Painter: The Life and Paintings of Wang Yani—China's Extraordinary Young Artist
Scholastic, 1991

Mickey would be jealous

We have all had that uncanny experience where we feel followed by a portrait's eyes or we sense a sculpture is moving inexplicably. The little mouse, Chopsticks, resident of a Hong Kong harbor restaurant 海上金龍酒家, actually helps to bring a coiled dragon sculpture to life! Old Fu, the sculptor, provides Chopsticks with a magical wooden whistle that will let the dragon take flight when the moon is full. In return, Chopsticks gets free rides—that's got to be the best way to get around Hong Kong. Berkeley's brightly painted illustration are accurate in their rendering of characters and Hong Kong, but also have a touch of lively caricature.

Jon Berkeley
Chopsticks
Random House, 2005

D is for Double

In 2006, two alphabet books sharing the theme of Chinese culture were respectively titled, D Is for Dragon Dance and D Is for Dancing Dragon: A Chinese Alphabet. Coincidence? Despite the near duplication of titles and some of the entries (A is for acrobats and Z is for Zodiac, among them) the two books have different content.

Carol Crane's D Is for Dancing Dragon resides in the non-fiction section. For each entry, she gives a short rhyme describing the selection. Thus, "C is for Chopsticks/an ancient eating skill./Bamboo sticks called 'quick little fellows.'/How do you eat and not spill?" Beside the rhyme, a sidebar provides substantial commentary on sites, people, animals, events, ideas, and things. Her alphabet ranges widely and is remarkably inclusive, as it includes the Himalayas, Mongolians, the Silk Road, alongside the more common Great Wall. Other entries don't seem particularly Chinese (transportation and umbrellas, for example) but those, too, may be seen as a positive feature, defending against exoticizing China as the Other. Illustrations by Zong-Zhou Wang are colorful, but not especially memorable, as they serve a more documentary function.

By contrast, Ying Chang Compestine's D Is for Dragon Dance resides with other picture books in the fiction area. The book also has a more narrow scope, focusing specifically on things that may be linked to the Chinese New Year holiday. Compestine's text is pared down, and Yongsheng Xuan's illustrations more imaginative and more unified in palette and style. We know less about China at the end of this ABC, but we feel more immersed in a single, significant Chinese event.


Carol Crane (author) and Zong-Zhou Wang (illustrator)
D Is for Dancing Dragon: A Chinese Alphabet
Thomas Gale, 2006

Ying Chang Compestine (author) and Yongsheng Xuan (illustrator)
D Is for Dragon Dance
Holiday House, 2006

Sibling rivalry resolved

Laurence Yep's Auntie Tiger is another retelling of the "Granny Wolf" folktale. (Here's a version by Ed Young.) This time, a tiger substitutes, but the heftier change is a focus on two sisters and their sibling rivalry. Bossy the Elder doesn't want responsibility for Lazy the Younger who doesn't like to listen. A visit from Auntie Tiger serves up just desserts for the both of them, and a second chance brings mother's much desired harmony to the household. If you're at your wits' end with your kids, give the book a try. It can't hurt, though I found the story and illustrations rather heavy-handed.

Laurence Yep (author) and Insu Lee (illustrator)
Auntie Tiger
HarperCollins, 2009

School daze

Trish Marx and Ellen B. Senisi's book does cultural comparison brilliantly. Flip the book over, and on the opposite cover, you'll see a like group of lively Chinese kindergartners. Each half of the book takes us from morning welcome at 9 am, through lessons, lunchtime, and recess, to learning how to get along and wondering about the kids on the other side of our planet. The text and pictures make clear that while we might be different superficially, we share common human traits: love of learning, joy in physical activities, and desire for respect and friendship. The Chinese half provides a handful of vocabulary words in context, such as laoshi 老師 (teacher).

Trish Marx and Ellen B. Senisi
Kindergarten Day USA and China: A Flip-Me-Over Book
Charlesbridge, 2010

Years pass swiftly

The story of Momo's birthday gift, an umbrella, is told as a flashback from the gentle and wistful point of view of a parent. Of all her modest gifts, Momo is most enchanted by an umbrella, which she yearns to use. Sunny day after windy day, she tries to persuade her mother to let her use it. Finally, a rainy day comes, and Momo thrills. With her umbrella, she is growing up, conscious of achieving a lady-like posture, but she is also young still, captive to the rhythm and song of raindrops playing on her umbrella. Her parents, too, remember how Momo grew up that day, for she did not need to hold her parents' hands. In Umbrella, Taro Yashima gives us a beautiful essay about how the passage of time—at once swift and slow—is experienced and marked by parents and children. As for the images, think Goodnight Moon with the touch of impressionist Edgar Degas.



Taro Yashima

Umbrella

Viking, 1958

Change and difference

Sometimes we long for change, but change can be hard. The same goes for difference. And if those are already challenging for us, how do we explain to our children? These three authors treat their child protagonists with compassion, and as each realizes how to accept themselves and others, they give us lessons for becoming better people.

Cooper is coping with his Korean-American identity. It seems to be an impossible situation when his Korean language ability is slim, and yet he is regularly confronted with the loaded question, "What are you?" When the answer, "an American," doesn't satisfy, he must consider whether and to what extent he is Korean. Shame and confusion lead him to act impulsively and wrongly, but in doing so, Peter gets to know the Korean-American grocer who offers Cooper a chance to redeem himself. The bilingual English-Korean edition of Sun Yung Shin's Cooper's Lesson may be especially appealing to multi-generational families.

Kimiko Sakai's Sachiko is young, confused, and a little scared by the effects of Alzheimer's disease on her beloved grandmother. Sachiko remembers and misses the grandmother who was coherent and made her feel safe and loved. Now her grandmother is old, but speaks in a voice that is young, confused, and a little scared. At first, Sachiko reacts with petulance and resentment, leading her grandmother on a ruse. But along the way, she learns that she who is still coherent now has the capacity to make another feel safe and loved. Tomie Arai's illustrations for Sachiko Means Happiness effortlessly capture with equal compassion the complex psychology of the characters.

Our sensitive young narrator of Uncle Peter's Amazing Chinese Wedding is niece Jenny. A good observer, she is our knowledgeable guide to Chinese wedding rituals and their symbolism. While activities may be quite different from a western-style wedding, emotions are the same. Her family feels joy and anticipation, but Jenny also feels fear as she worries about being displaced by Peter's bride, Stella. But savvy and thoughtful Aunt Stella brings Jenny away from fear and back into the family fold. Yumi Heo's child-like images capture the anxiety and wonder of Jenny's point of view.

Cooper's Lesson

Sun Yung Shin (author) and Kim Cogan (illustrator)

Children's Book Press, 2004

Sachiko Means Happiness

Kimiko Sakai

Chidren's Book Press, 1997

Uncle Peter's Amazing Chinese Wedding

Lenore Look (author) and Yumi Heo (illustrator)

Atheneum, 2006

A silk yarn

Red Butterfly, a medieval Chinese princess, spins a yarn as light and soft as silk, naturally. Told in first-person, her story is a prose-poem, part ode and part lament. Red Butterfly enjoys many beautiful splendors of her father's kingdom, but she must also bear a burden peculiar to her station, namely an arranged marriage to a Khotanese king. In her long farewell, she lists the many splendors and repeatedly bids goodbye to things, places, people, and ultimately to her self as she knows it. To assuage her anticipated homesickness, she smuggles silkworms in her copious silken sleeves. The worms, ostensibly, will multiply and produce one luxury from home, a kind of living memory for her future Khotanese highness. With images that keep the eye spinning and twirling about, the book is chinoisserie for kids, girls especially. Red Butterfly's world is a frothy fantasy of a faraway land where princesses are beautiful and dutiful. The nostalgic tone banishes concerns for the nitty-gritty implications of patriarchy and details of history (Deborah Noyes' note partially makes up for the deficit, but there are some errors here, too). Still, children and parents may also see the story as a successful example of self-soothing.

Red Butterfly: How a Princess Smuggled the Secret of Silk Out of China
Deborah Noyes (author) and Sophie Blackall (illustrator)
Candlewick, 2007

Paper Inventions

These days the trend is to go paperless. Still, paper is a marvelous (and need it be said, Chinese) invention, which in turn continues to spark creativity around the world. Here are three books that pay tribute, in different ways, to paper arts.

Stefan Czernecki's Paper Lanterns is concerned with the transmission of cultural knowledge from one generation to the next. Old Chen, the finest paper lantern craftsman in China, has two less than ideal apprentices. Entranced by the beauty and magic of the lanterns, Little Mouse accepts a lower status job cleaning after Master and apprentices. But, in doing so, he carefully observes and learns the craft. When the Lantern Festival arrives, naturally, Little Mouse succeeds Old Chen. Much about the book seems so promising—the allure of a beautiful craft, the rivalry and triumph of the modest—but Paper Lanterns does not burn so brightly. Text and illustrations seem flat and, well, caricatured. Unimportant to the plot, the cartoonish portrait of Mao, at once jubilant and eerie, captures the book's superficial feel.


Marguerite Davol's The Paper Dragon features characters, elements, and vignettes drawn from Chinese history, culture, and literature, but altered and combined in unexpected ways. The story's main character is an artist named Mi Fei. Apart from talent, however, Davol's Mi shares little in common with his rather snobbish and eccentric namesake. Good-natured, courageous, and clever, Mi is popular among his neighbors who seek him to confront the dragon Sui Jen. Like Mi Fei, Sui Jen would be unrecognizable to a typical Chinese reader who connotes dragons with water and benevolence. When Mi pleads with Sui Jen to cease scorching the tea bushes and other destructive actions, Sui Jen responds with three challenges in the form of riddles involving paper. Mi calls upon his artistic background and painterly talent to save his fellow villagers. In this test of wits, we are on Mi's side and share his goodwill by accepting Davol's Asian fusion approach. But she pushes us with the lesson of love, which reads like a sermon to children masquerading as a message from the ostensibly Chinese, and therefore Confucian Mi Fei. If you are willing to go with the intercultural patchwork, however, you will get the added pleasure of Robert Sabuda's illustrations. Each double page-spread extends to form long horizontal compositions of richly colored and finely executed papercuts. They are dramatic and dazzling.

Monica Chang's retelling, Story of the Chinese Zodiac, makes it into this trio because of Arthur Lee's illustrations, which are nothing less that a papery tour-de-force. You could probably retell your own version of the race among animals in which the rat outfoxes the cat with a fib and outpaces his competitors with a lift from the ox and thus claims first place among the twelve finishers. After all, you've rehearsed the tale every February (and the occasional January). But, I promise, you will see the race through new eyes because Lee has taken techniques of origami and kirigami to the next level in designs that are fresh and alive. These paper animals jump off the page and into our world. Some of you may also appreciate the bilingual edition in English and traditional Chinese.

Stefan Czernecki
Paper Lanterns
Charlesbridge, 2001

Marguerite W. Davol (author) and Robert Sabuda (illustrator)
The Paper Dragon
Simon and Schuster, 1997

Monica Chang (author), Arthur Lee (illustrator), and Rick Charette (English translation)
Story of the Chinese Zodiac
Yuan-liou,1994

(this cover is to the English/Spanish edition, but the illustration is the same)

Dreaming outside the box

For a general American audience, I suspect there isn't anything obviously Asian about Ayano Imai's The 108th Sheep. But those of you in the know have a special place in your heart for the number 108, right? In Buddhist practice (and possibly in that of other religions, too), the number has significance, a kind of supreme, utmost quality, which returns us to the beginning that is 1. The 108th sheep is the one that marks the end of Emma's sheep-filled, but sleepless night. And that is when she must dream outside the box. Imai's illustrations are a little Tim Burton, a little Shaun the Sheep, and altogether her own. I don't think any expense has been spared in producing the richly textured, generously sized pages in this sparingly gorgeous book.

Ayano Imai
The 108th Sheep
ME Media, 2006

Another retelling

After Tikki Tikki Tembo, Arlene Mosel and Blair Lent directed their collective talents to Japanese culture in The Funny Little Woman. Readers of my earlier review won't be surprised by the following mixed response. Once again the pictures are engaging and delightful, and once again the story is a combination of wicked humor, appealing silliness, and local color, this time involving the eponymous funny little woman, a lost dumpling, underground Jizo sculptures, and monstrous oni. Still, there is an uneasiness about the claim to "retelling" an indigenous Japanese folk tale. Readers with more familiarity and expertise, what say you about the resourceful if somewhat laughable little woman who escaped the oni and acquired fame and fortune through magic and dumplings, and who exclaimed all the while, "Oh, tee-he-he-he"? By the way, this book won the Caldecott Medal.

Arlene Mosel (author) and Blair Lent (illustrator)
The Funny Little Woman
E.P. Dutton, 1972

Tikki's sticky tempo

Someone read to me when I was seven or eight years old Arlene Mosel's Tikki Tikki Tembo, and that name, slightly modified, stuck in my head ever since. I remembered it as "Ricky Ticky Tembo no-sar rembo chari-bari boochee pip perry pembo (curious readers must seek the book itself for the true name). The silly long name was more fun to say than the better known childhood favorite, super-cali-fragil-istic-exme-ala-do-cious. Well, it was on the one hand a genuine pleasure to read this book again (the name still skips and dances off the tongue) and to see the artful and whimsical illustrations of Blair Lent. On the other hand, I found it a little disturbing to realize the completely fabricated explanation for the brevity of Chinese names (mine is, of course, no exception). Such presumption smacks of cultural chauvinism. It was also upsetting to see the disparity in mother's affection for her first and second sons, and I'll hazard that many readers today would shy away from a narrative involving a little boy drowning in a well. The cover states that the story is "retold" by Mosel, but she provides no further information about a source. Does anyone know of an indigenous predecessor?

Arlene Mosel (author) and Blair Lent (illustrator)
Tikki Tikki Tembo
Henry Holt, 1968

A gift for whom?

I don't want to sound the Scrooge (especially as the holiday season nears), but I didn't particularly like Yong Chen's The Gift. The story involves a common theme for immigrant families, the separation of siblings and attempts to bridge the distance. In this case, the acute loneliness felt by Amy's mother is assuaged by a letter and a gift from her brothers and sister. But, the gift is not for her. It is a pendant necklace carved in the shape of a cavorting dragon for daughter Amy. After receiving the gift, Amy and her mother are all smiles and locked into a blissful embrace. Oddly, of all the characters in the story, Amy (ostensibly, the American) is the only one wearing ethnic dress: a padded red-jacket with a satiny sheen and high collar. I think the subtext here is a concern for the aspirations and fears felt by Amy's mother about her daughter's connection to her Chinese heritage and extended family. The on-coming Chinese holiday is but a trigger for that concern. After all, why should a gift to her daughter so effectively ameliorate her own loneliness? I think this book is more about maternal fantasies and less sensitive to children's dreams. Text and illustrations will likely be soothing for mothers like Amy's.

Yong Chen
A Gift
Boyds Mills Press, 2009