When my grandchildren – my grands – come to visit I take an advance trip to the library to stock up on reading adventures for them and for myself (I need to enjoy the books as much as they do). To start with, each book has to meet my criteria, so I search as many shelves as needed to yield a good bunch. This time, with my grands at ages is 4+ (Tony) and nearly 7 (Abby), I looked for picture books about

Animals (my son’s family lives in a suburb of a big East Coast city – no nearby cows and no pets yet in the home), especially dogs (I have two).
The West (Tony loves cowboys and I live in the desert).
Thanksgiving (it was that time of year).
Familiar stories told in a different way.
Or something that's just fun.

The books had, in addition, to meet my artistic criteria:

Immediately attractive – lots of color but not to excess.
Well-illustrated (evocative, with nothing superfluous).
Easy to read, so Abby could read to Tony, or easy to listen to, so I could read to both children together.

Finally, the common element of the armful I walked out with was that each book should contribute to helping the grands love and understand me (and why I love them so, even though we don't see each other often enough) and the way I live, which is so different from their lives.

The Books
Animals

Once I Ate a Pie, by Patricia MacLachlan and Emily MacLachlan Charest, illustrated by Katy Schneider. 9”x12”. (All measurements are approximate, all books are in hardcover unless noted otherwise.)
I’d seen this book previously but hadn’t managed yet to buy it. Magnificently illustrated in paintings with bold brushstrokes and pungent color, it gives each of 14+ dogs its own double-page spread — lots of color surrounded by lots of white space. Each dog is named (Sugar, Wupsi, Needle Nose, Mr. Beefy…), each narrates its own tale, whether to explain a breed and its type or to explain its (mischievous or lazy or shy) personality.
Sample text (German shepherd):

Gus
I want my people in a group. Like sheep.

When someone is in the bathroom, I open the door.

“Are you all right?” [text set in a wavy line]

They are NOT happy.

I take them back to the others.

When they go anywhere,

I am watching.

I am the herder.

Swine Divine, by Jan Carr, illustrated by Robert Bender. Holiday House, 1999, Joanna Cotler Books/Harper Collins. 9”x12” Filled with slangy synonyms that, taken one way are funny but to a pig who took them literally, mighty threatening.

The story: Rosie loves her piggy life, eating, rolling in mud and sleeping, and her owner is proud of her. One day he wakes her up with a bath, saying he’s taking her to Mr. Porkpie because he knows she’ll “ham it up.” Rosie thinks she’s to be eaten. The story takes her through ordeals that reinforce her fear. Finally Mr. Porkpie dresses her in bonnet and tutu and flashes bright lights in her eyes. Rosie runs out and back to the farm, rebukes her owner (“Oink! Oink!”) who concedes that she looks better au naturel, and Rosie returns to happy napping in her sty.

Mustang Canyon, by Jonathan London, illustrated by Daniel San Souci, Candlewick Press 2002. 10” x 9”
An essentially storyless book with striking paintings in double-page spreads without margins, simply designed, to tell young children how wild horses live. Good new vocabulary and a glossary defining terms (sorrel, bay, roan, pinto, stallion,…)

Roadrunner’s Dance, by Rudolfo Anaya, illustrated by David Diaz (Caldecortt Award winner for “Smoky Night”). Hyperion Books for Children, 2000. 11” x 9”
This tells a persuasive Native American legend, nicely bridging the culture gap without sacrificing tradition and flavor. Text appears in large type on a delicately patterned bright yellow background that is still easy on the eyes, with fanciful full-page, airbrushed, facing-page illustrations. Snake has been frightening the villagers, who ask Desert Woman to do something about it. She gives him a rattle to warn people when they come too near, but that doesn’t relieve the threat. So she creates Roadrunner, who learns to dance around Rattlesnake, pecking him to show him that he is not king of the road. Endnotes give more facts about these nifty birds.

Treasury for Children, by James Herriott, illustrated by Ruth Brown and Peter Barrett. St. Martin’s Press, 1992. 8” x 11,” About 100 pages.
This anthology of eight stories by the Scottish veterinarian and author of several classics including All Creatures Great and Small gives us eight true tales of pets and their people on farms in rural Scotland – kittens, a cat, an old cow, dogs, a horse, a lamb. It has large type on white pages and both large and small paintings of farm activities and creatures as well as warm portraits of farmer families. Herriott tells his stories gently and thoughtfully, and only the last, the one about the lamb, sounds as if it might have been made up, although around a real incident. Interesting accents provided in Scots vocabulary.

Just Mutts, A Tribute to the Rogues of Dogdom, text by Steve Smith and Gene Hill, individual photo credits. Willow Creek Press, 1996. 10” x 8,” 128 pages, including a few 2-3 page essays

This photo book captures what we love most in dogs: their adaptability, insouciance, courage, loyalty, and individuality. Smith and Hill write like grownup kids. Here’s a sample:

Muttness is self-training. Because they weren’t bred for specific purposes, such as pointing, trailing, or retrieving, mutts are free to pursue personal forms of self-expression. (Photos: dogs ascending and ascending step ladders just to see what’s at the top.)

I don’t know yet quite how the grands and I will use this book, as the text is adult and in small type. But the 100+ photos will ignite questions, and the text might prove worth reading aloud — it is as warm and enlightening as the photos.

The West

Storm on the Desert, by Carolyn Lesser, illustrated by Ted Rand. Harcourt, Brace, 1997. 10” x 10”
Less a story than a description of the desert lives of animals, the text tells lots, always beautifully, functioning in counterpoint to terrific watercolors of animals racing across the page to escape lightning and the torrent of a desert storm. Maybe it’s a book to read many times, on rainy desert days, once the children have already turned the pages again and again. Incredible artwork.

Little Red Cowboy Hat, by Susan Lowell, illustrated by Randy Cecil, Henry Holt and Company, 1997. 9“ x 11”
Lowell retells “Little Red Riding Hood” in terms that make sense to me: Little Red wears a cowboy hat, because a long red cape would frighten a horse. Grandma, certainly not locked in the closet or tied up under the bed, is outside chopping wood, and it’s she who chases the wolf away, saving Little Red. Big, bright, desert-colored full-page or double-spread cartoon-like illustrations that tell the vividly. Typography is unfortunately dated — bold condensed fonts with big serifsy to suggest the Old West but less legible than desired. As for political correctness, the Wolf remains unfairly maligned.

Way Out West with a Baby, by Mike Brownlow, writer and illustrator. Ragged Bears Publishing, 2000. 9” x 11”
Three rough ‘n’ tough cowhands sitting by their campfire hear a wailing in the night that proves to be a baby, apparently fallen from a passing wagon train. Gruff though they are they rescue it, bathe and feed it, get throwup on their shirts, and ride through a horrendous desert thunderstorm to return it to its momma. Told in verse that could easily be set to country music.

Thanksgiving

An Outlaw Thanksgiving, by Emily Arnold McCully (Caldecott winning writer of Minette on the High Wir)e. Puffin Books, 1998. Paperback. 10” x 9”
My grands are probably too young for this book, but it’s a nice story about a nice thing that could have been done by the real Butch Cassidy: Clara and her mom, traveling by train to California to meet Dad, get stuck in a snowdrift. To avoid freezing to death, they have to de-train and go somewhere else – Mr. Jones offers to drive them to Brown’s Hole, which Clara learns is where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid are about to launch their careers. Clara never tells her mom what she knows, and everyone has a unique Thanksgiving.

The Night Before Thanksgiving, by Natasha Wing, illustrated by Tammy Lyon. Grosset and Dunlap, 2001. Paperback. 8” x 8”
I know The Night Before Christmas by heart (don't we all?), and can sing it as well, so I am intrigued by this revision. It doesn’t sing as well as the original, or at least not always to the same tune, but the watercolor illustrations are cute and it all makes sense.

Albert’s Thanksgiving, written and illustrated by Leslie Tryon. Atheneum, 1994. 10” x 10”
Animals that act 100% like people are always suspect to me, but not to everyone, and Albert is particularly charming. Like most artist-writers, Tryon limits text, showing her ducks and rabbits engrossed in action. She does insert several notes from PTA President Patsy Pig, each of which asks Albert (a white duck) to help with another chore for the children’s Thanksgiving party. On the back cover we get a kitchen-tested recipe for Pumpkin Pizza Pie, which actually sounds petty good, so the grands and I might try it.

A Re-Telling

Sleeping Ugly, by Jane Yolen, pictures by Diane Stanley. Paperstar, the Putnam and Grosset Group, 1981. 64 pages. 6” x 8” Large type easy reader with nice text
The beautiful princess has an ugly temper, so the old witch refuses to give her three wishes, giving them instead to Plain Jane, who lives in the woods where the princess has got herself lost. They all fall asleep until one day a penniless prince arrives. Before kissing the beautiful princess, he practices on Jane (whose breath smells like roses) and the Witch, who then grants one of Jane’s wishes, that the prince should love her. The nasty princess is left asleep in the corner, forever a conversation starter for guests.

Miscellaneous Fun

I Stink, by Kate and Jim McMullan. Joanna Cottler Books/Harper Collins, 2002. 11” x 9.
My grandson Tony is an imp, a little stinker in his own right. This book about what garbage trucks do should be just right for him. The extroverted trash-crusher is ugly, noisy, crude, and eager to share vocabulary (“dual op,” “hopper,” “hit the throttle,” “bring on the crusher blade,”…) in telling the nasty things it does, such as drip stinky on the street and make alphabet soup out of apple cores, banana peels, candy wrappers, dirty diapers, et al. All two-page spreads, no margins, dingy-bright watercolors and unfettered typography.

Moonlight Kite, by Helen E. Buckley and Elise Primavera. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Books, 1997. 9” x 11”
A big old monastery now houses just three monks, silent and occupied, who discover a kite caught in a tree beside the monastery wall. They rescue it and fly it, remembering their own youth. They then leave it in a smaller tree for the children to retrieve. The children do and then leave it again for the monks, who reciprocate by building a second kite. Soon all the kids of the town fly kites beneath the towers of the monastery and at night watch the monks fly the same kites under the stars.

And a Long Shot

We the Kids, illustrations, concept and foreword by David Catrow. Dial Books for Young Readers, 2002. 9” x 11”
This book was written for middle school readers. It translates the preamble to the US Constitution almost word-by-word into big, kid-funny illustrations. Example: the phrase “establish justice” has a munchkin showing an easelful of rules to his odd-lot buddies: “FAIR,…SHARE,… NO PULLING HAIR.” The phrase “provide for the common defense” shows the family dog wearing a helmet and standing behind a bunker in the moonlight while the kids play in the tent. “Ourselves and our posterity” becomes a picture window from which Mom and Dad watch over the tentful of sleeping kids. We’ll see if I can work it into the Thanksgiving weekend.

P. S. The books all went well. Favorites were Little Red Cowboy Hat, Sleeping Ugly, I Stink, and Way Out West. Albert’s recipe for Pumpkin Pizza Pie turned out to be terrific!
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