Okay, deep breath faithful readers of mine. Over the past few weeks we’ve defeated death, waged war and hungered for human rights. We’ve finally come to the end of the controversy category. But before it’s completely safe to let out that breath we’ve got a highly emotional post today.
Because we’re taking a closer look at some books that tackle how to deal with some pretty big emotions, that is. Sadness. Separation Anxiety. Loneliness. Self-Love. Those are enormous feelings for any person to tackle, let alone a child.
One of the things I keep bringing up that I’ve most noticed about these translated titles is that they are conversation starters. For the books on death and war it was because of how the topics were presented; much more straightforward and direct. They didn’t rely heavily on emotional or wordy text, instead tackling a subject straight on, not skirting around an issue. Specifically regarding death, we noted that the books actually talked about death, not mourning. And while the war books did make emotional appeals, they each spoke to a different type of reader. The human rights books we looked at provoked conversation because they filled gaps on topics that it seemed the US was one step behind.
This last set of books start conversations because they contain another characteristic I’ve noticed in many translated texts; they don’t provide the answer. They present the story, even name the emotion but they don’t give a quick fix on how to make it “all better.” That’s where the “opacity of other cultures” keeps coming back to me for all the books in this category. These aren’t stories with the “happily ever afters” we often think children’s literature must be full of (specifically picture books as they are geared at the youngest readers). These books wrestle with topics that adults find hard to comprehend and make sense of, but present them to a young reader as not an “all better” but a “you’re not alone.”
By: Gerda Wagener
Illustrated by: Reinhard Michl
Translated by: Nina Ignatowicz
This is another find from my adventure at Kerrytown Bookfest just a few weeks ago. It wasn’t on my radar before (Most likely because it was originally published in 1991. I struggled to find much information on it even after I did find it, suggesting to me it didn’t fair too well on the American market.) but as I first flipped through it I knew it was the perfect book to include in this post. The story is about Leo, the loneliest lion in the world. He stands night after night outside a window, watching the owner pet his cat and wishing someone would pet him too.
He finally gets up enough courage to ask if he can be petted too, but the man tells him he is much too big, though Leo insists that “Inside I am small and huggable.” Rejected Leo continues his search through the city for someone to pet him, but continues to face people who are frightened of him. When he spies a locomotive, he hops a ride and eventually finds himself in a desert where he befriends a lioness named Lea. The two become friends, and Leo finally finds someone not afraid to pet him.
I will admit, the talking lion that roamed the city and then stows away on a locomotive, which ends up (with no engineer or other passengers) in the middle of the desert, was a little difficult for my adult brain to fully come to grips with at first. I can see the potential for this book to be fall into the “strange” translated abyss. But I strongly believe that a kid isn’t going to have those same reservations unless it is suggested to them. If they can easily get into principal’s that turn into an underwear-wearing superhero and word-filled webs spun by a wise spider to save the life of some pig, Leo really isn’t that much of a stretch.
Looking past that I found an allegory most of us can relate to at some point; feeling lonely because we just don’t quite fit in. Leo’s outside appearance to others doesn’t match how he feels on the inside. Others respond to him with rejection and fear when he just wants to be loved and accepted. A reader of any age can empathize with that feeling, even if Leo is a talking lion. And as I said, these books don’t offer answers for how the reader can avoid feeling similarly, (hopping a train and befriending a lioness are probably not the best solution) but the thought that even lions are lonely sometimes is oddly comforting.
Illustrated by: Stephanie Augusseau
Translated by: Peter Pauper Press, Inc (The Publisher)
Under any other circumstances, Celia, first published in Belgium in 2012 would find itself on my favorites list. But the thoughtful story about being unable to let go of sadness sometimes was a no-brainer for inclusion in this post. Celia is the town’s listener. Every week she hears the troubles of the townspeople, no matter how big or small.
By telling their troubles, they give her their seeds of sadness which she magically transforms them into vibrant balloons, flowers and stars that transform the stark black and white illustrations into a world full of color. Julian, standing in line to talk to Celia misplaces his seed so he can’t share his sadness with Celia and then let it go. Celia finds the seed and the two plant it together in hopes that it will bloom so Julian can be free of his sadness. As they patiently wait, the two develop a friendship that blossoms into joy for them both.
What stood out to me most about this story was that Celia is a listener. She’s not a problem solver. She’s not a fixer. She’s not a knight in shining armor. She simply listens and allows people to unburden their hearts. And then one step further, she transforms those burdens and problems into images full of color, wonder and beauty. I found her a stark contrast to how I tend to react, especially when faced with a child that is hurting. I think it’s natural to want to fix that hurt, to make it go away. The fact that this story does not offer up an adult figure who does that to Julian is why I think it is so unique and special.
We’ve all been sad and often, like Julian, we have a hard time letting it go. Even when we see the potential for good and beauty in our sadness, as Augusseau beautifully illustrates in bright vibrant colors against black, white and shades of grey, it can be difficult to completely let them go.
I think this is a very poignant way to share with a reader that it’s OK! It takes time and patience sometimes. Julian’s seeds, unlike the others who were able to easily let them go, take time to bloom. He and Celia care for them – together. As I noted before, what really stood out to me in these titles was the theme of “you are not alone” because I am sure many readers could see themselves in Julian.
By: Francisco Cunha
Translated by: Joao Leal
“Separation is always difficult but it is made even worse when it has fear as its companion.” So begins the note by author Francisco Cunha in his debut book, My Very Own Lighthouse. Written in Portugal in 2003, the story draws on Cunha’s childhood memories from his life in the fishing community of Bairro das Caxinas. It tells the story of a young girl whose father is a fisherman and the fears that she has about him not coming home. After a nightmare, her mother tells her how lighthouses help guide fishermen back to their families. Inspired, the girl decides to build her own lighthouse out of the toys in her room to guide her father’s boat back to them.
This is another book that could have easily wound up on my favorites list in the way it beautifully allows the little girl to acknowledge her fear and then do something to alleviate it in her own way. As with Celia, it struck me as a story that was incredibly empowering for a young reader because the girl’s mother didn’t dismiss or try to “fix” the problem for her daughter. Perhaps because the mother felt that fear as well, she recognized the need for the girl to take action herself. Fear so often paralyzes and overwhelms, leaving us powerless. Instead of succumbing to her fear, the little girl uses everything she owns, every tangible item she treasures to help guide her father back to her.
There are also a number of subtle details in the illustration that made me go back to this book repeatedly. There is a star on one of the fishing boats on a two-page spread of the seashore and town in the opening pages of the book. The same location but at night appears at the end of the book. In the nighttime illustration the boat is missing, insinuating this must be her father’s boat. A few pages later there is a replica of the boat, with star, on the shelf in the girl’s living room. On the wall of the family’s house is a collage of different fishing knots. Cunha took great care in constructing the setting and lifestyle of the family to make it believable to the reader that the sea is both a thing of beauty, security and livelihood for the family as much as it is a thing of anxiety and fear. There is no escaping it for the girl, so she must come to a way herself to accept it. Her fear doesn’t disappear, it becomes less consuming, though.
What I love most about the book is that the last page is an illustration of the girl, sleeping in her bed as her tower of blocks lighthouse, lit by a candle, burns in the window. There is no triumphant return of her father, there is simply an acceptance that she has done all she can in the moment to help him find his way home. Comforted by this she is able to sleep. I think far too often, when trying to work through emotional struggles with a child, we desperately want to give them the “happily ever after.” It’s that instinct to protect that I mentioned in my first post for this category. I’ll repeat – that’s not a bad thing. But in the end it’s not the best solution for a child. We have to let them deal with the tough stuff – that’s how they learn. I love that all of these books show that given the opportunity they are capable of doing so.
*Looks over her shoulder. Looks over other shoulder. No one there. HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF.*
I’m not gonna lie - this category has been extremely difficult for me to tackle. And I’m an adult! But after weeks of reading books, researching and writing about death, war, human rights and all kinds of emotional upheaval, I’m spent! These books are all beautiful and part of my own struggle has been making sure that I present them in a way that highlights that. I do have additional titles on any of the topics that I’ve covered under controversy the last couple of weeks, so speak up if interested! Or if you have some other suggestions to share, I’d love to hear them.If I haven’t completely scared you away with all this controversy in picture book style, thank you! I don’t want to say it gets better because there was so much need to discuss these books, but it does get more whimsical for a few days as Tuesday launches our next category – “Outside the Box!” See you then!
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