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."