Leonard S. Marcus

Children's Book Historian, Author, Critic

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"What's New" - Archive Item 12

R esidents of and visitors to the Northeast may want to consider visiting the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art, in Amherst, MA., which will host the exhibition "The Picture Book Made New: Margaret Wise Brown and Her Illustrators," from March 29 to July 10. On view will be original art by Brown collaborators Clement Hurd, Garth Williams, Leonard Weisgard, Tibor Gergely, Esphyr Slobodkina, Marc Simont, Ylla, and others, as well as memorabilia and related art work by Edward Steichen and Wanda Gág. For hours, directions, and information about related events, please visit the museum's web site at: http://www.picturebookart.org

2005

"What's New" - Archive Item 11

The following is taken from the gallery guide for the exhibition "Angels to Ogres: The Art of Paul O. Zelinsky," now at the National Center for Children's Illustrated Literature," Abilene, TX: Bravura artistry and a childlike sense of fun find common ground in the wide-ranging, superbly realized illustration art of Paul O. Zelinsky. As an illustrator in the classical tradition, Zelinsky approaches each text as an occasion calling for a unique visual response carried out in the style and format most appropriate to it. Working as needed in watercolor, oils, pen-and-ink, or (as in Doddler Doodling) with computer-scanned graphics, he thrives on wrestling down complication whether met in the form of the behind-the-scenes mechanics of paper-engineered books such as The Wheels on the Bus and Knick-Knack Paddy-Wack; the picture-maze required for The Maid and the Mouse and the Odd-Shaped House; or the high standard of historical authenticity set for books as varied as E. Nesbit's Five Children and It and the Caldecott Medal-winner Rapunzel. The black-line drawings of Dear Mr. Henshaw exemplify the power of illustration to serve as a calm and clarifying way station for readers traversing the jagged terrain of an emotionally complex story. Worlds away, the ten little "moveable" men of Knick-Knack Paddywhack roll down the hill for the sheer and uproarious fun of it. Yet a rhapsodic intensity sweeps through even the blithest of these images, whether the subject happens to be Jack Prelutsky's archly disagreeable Awful Ogre, Anne Isaacs' wild and woolly Swamp Angel, or people like us. As Zelinsky shows readers time and again, as comically odd as life often proves to be, it is still more wonderful.

2004

"What's New" - Archive Item 10

- Speaking of inspiration . . . : Inspiration or the promise of it comes in many forms, and some forms make a lot more sense to me than others. Waiting for lightning to strike, for instance, has never struck me as a very sensible plan. But I have never forgotten the comment of the later composer John Cage, who once remarked: "If you don't know what to do next, do something boring and ideas will flock to you like birds." - Enormous changes at not quite the last minute: my book, originally called Fantasy Author Talk and scheduled for publication by Simon and Schuster in the fall of 2004, has morphed and migrated to Candlewick Press, and will now be published in the fall of 2005 as The Wand in the Word: Conversations with Writers of Fantasy. Among the writers heard from in this collection are Madeleine L'Engle, Susan Cooper, Philip Pullman, Terry Pratchett, Jane Yolen, Lloyd Alexander and Diana Wynne Jones. There are 13 interviews in all. - A few things to watch for: The Robert McCloskey Treasury, with an introductory essay by me, this fall (Viking); a picture book co-written and illustrated by my wife Amy Schwartz, next fall (HarperCollins); an exhibition I will be guest curating next spring at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art, in Amherst, MA., called "The Picture Book Made New: Margaret Wise Brown and Her Illustrators." - A website worth exploring is that of the International Children's Digital Library www.jcdlbooks.org featuring a growing number of complete picture books in digital form, from around the world. - And here is a quote for anyone who has ever pondered the true nature of nonfiction: "The facts never speak for themselves." - Jacques Barzun - Storied City Walking Tours of New York: if you and up to twenty friends and colleagues are interested in the possibility of arranging a children's book walking tour of historic Greenwich Village,please contact me about dates and charges at leonardsma@aol.com

2004

"What's New" - Archive Item 09

The following is my gallery guide mini-essay for the current (fall 2003) exhibition of the art of Peter Sís, on view at the National Center for Children's Illustrated Literature, in Abilene, TX: A spirit of discovery and old-world devotion to craft characterize the luminous picture-book art of Peter Sís. Sís speaks to us in part in a private language of glyph-like signs and symbols that layer his work with a beguiling atmosphere of strangeness and mystery. His more complex drawings, such as those for Starry Messenger (1996), Tibet: Through the Red Box (1998), The Three Golden Keys (2001), and The Tree of Life: Charles Darwin (2003), have the force of revelations, offering up glimpses of unsuspected realms hovering just beneath the surfaces of things. Not surprisingly, ambitious travel is a frequent theme of this émigré artist, whether the destination be the icy reaches explored in A Small Tall Tale From the Far Far North (2001); the remote tropical island of Komodo! (1993); the "new" continent limned in Follow the Dream: The Story of Christopher Columbus (1991); or, as in Madlenka (2000), a single city block as explored by an inquisitive child. Meanwhile, Sís' "young" books, such as Fire Truck (1998) and Ship Ahoy! (1999), show that where a child's own imagination is concerned, home is as good a place as any in which to experience life's mysteries, and its fun.

2003

"What's New" - Archive Item 08

I wrote the following essay in conjunction with the first major exhibition of the art of Fred Marcellino, presented by the Norman Rockwell Museum, Stockbridge, MA, from November 9, 2002 to January 26, 2003: High drama and high jinks, worldliness and wonder freely share center stage in Fred Marcellino's graphically adventurous, exquisitely layered children's book art. In the six picture books and three longer fantasies he completed before his untimely death, Marcellino worked his magic both on classic and contemporary texts, holding each one up to the light of a searching and deeply playful imagination. Marcellino's illustrations bristle with beguiling would-be contradictions. Stylish and earthy, tender and brash, archly sophisticated and unapologetically silly, they give due and loving attention to naturalistic and period detail while also rejoicing in the quicksilver surfaces of things. Marcellino's cats are cats and rats are rats. But they, like all of his subjects, also play their part in an overarching human comedy, a grand pageant of tricksters, lovers, devils, and fools. Taking their measure was a challenge Marcellino relished. He began his children's book career during the 1980s, a time when advances in color printing technology, an expanding book market, and the art world's ripening appreciation of illustration combined to produce a great burst of creative energy in the field. In the maverick tradition of Randolph Caldecott and Maurice Sendak, Marcellino embraced the picture book as a kinetic art form worthy of rigorous exploration and children's literature as a true literature that offered designer-illustrators the freedom to create a work that was a world-in-itself. Nine imperishable books came of the effort.

2003

"What's New" - Archive Item 07

What Does A Book Designer Do? A Conversation with Claire Counihan Claire Counihan has over 28 years' experience as a book designer. She received a degree in Book Arts from Pratt Institute, reasoning, she reports, that going into publishing would get her "LOTS of free books." In the children's book field, she has worked with E. P. Dutton, Dodd, Mead, Scholastic, Morrow, and the small, delightful Holiday House. She designed A Caldecott Celebration and Side by Side, both published by Walker. Claire lives in a small brick house in Greenwich Village, with two large cats and an even larger number of books. Leonard S. Marcus: What, exactly, does a book designer do? Claire Counihan: A book designer takes the "raw material" of a manuscript and visually organizes the information for a reader, turning it into the recognizable form of a book. How do you get started? In the beginning is the word, which for the book designer means a manuscript. A manuscript comes to the designer having been written by the author, edited by the editor, copyedited by someone wise in the ways of punctuation and spelling, and keyboarded and saved onto a floppy disk. I start by reading the manuscript to get a feeling of the content. And I ask myself how graphically to present this copy to give the reader a subliminal feeling of the text. That subtle and basic goal, I find, is best achieved through the choice and arrangement of type. Let's talk about type. Why do you select one type over another? In speculating about what style and size of type to use, I first consider who will be reading the book. The typeface chosen should be appropriate to the age and reading skills of its audience. For a young picture book, for instance, the type should be large with simple forms, but not so large that it dominates the illustration. And the type should not be so eccentric that a young reader would have trouble recognizing the letters. The typeface for an illustrated chapter book would be smaller but still have a generous amount of space, or "leading" between lines. (The term leading goes back to the early days of printing when a piece of lead would separate lines of type.) And for a young adult book, the text treatment would essentially be the same as for an adult novel. For Side by Side, I chose a contemporary computerized reworking of a classic fifteenth-century metal typeface called Garamond. The version I used, called Adobe Garamond, is an easily readable face that complements artwork well. Side by Side is filled with sketches and final art by five artists with highly distinctive styles. I wanted the type to provide a neutral complement or "side dish" to their varied styles and images. I chose the display typeface, Pixie, for its playful, happy look. Children's-book design can be a lot of fun and this type gave a whimsical counterpoint to the classic, elegant typography of the text. What role do computers play in your work? When I began in publishing, type was set in metal. Designers pasted copies of the art and the text type onto a board called a "mechanical." The designer chose what size and style he or she wanted for the copy from a limited selection, then wrote the specifications on the manuscript and sent it to the type shop to be set. Now I am the designer and the typesetter, and the design choices available to me are as great as my patience coupled with my imagination. What are some of the problems you face as a book designer? How do you go about solving them? Having limitless possibilities can be overwhelming. For the very reason that it's so easy to change things, designers sometimes change and change and change their work, until time finally runs out. A project that would have been impossible without the computer was the jacket design for A Caldecott Celebration. The problem for me was how to feature the jackets and illustrators of six Caldecott-winning books attractively and equally. After four or five unsuccessful design efforts, I had a brainstorm. By reducing the book jackets of each of the six featured books to miniature postage-stamp size, placing the illustrators' names in multicolored boxes of about the same size, and creating a repeating allover pattern from these elements, I was able to create a striking quilt-like design. From a distance, the effect was of an elegant visual pattern while up close the subject and contents of the book were immediately apparent. Without the help of a computer, it would have been impossible to make up the tiny grid with its many small rectangles all precisely angled, or to experiment with a variety of different colors until harmony was achieved. Oh, one other problem. As designer and typesetter, I personally make all text corrections when the author rewrites a passage or sends in additional text at the last minute. Sometimes this task can seem endless! What do you like best about your work? I love to read, and reading is basic to my work. But what I like best is the pleasure and satisfaction that comes from making a beautiful, readable book. I hope my work gives readers a subtle sense of pleasure as well, as they open a book I have designed and begin to get caught up in the writer's words. Interview with Claire Counihan by Leonard S. Marcus

2002

"What's New" - Archive Item 06

The following is the introductory talk I gave at the ALA/CBC-sponsored program "The Story Behind the Poem," which took place in San Francisco, as part of the American Library Association convention, on June 18, 2001. It took someone with a special sense of humor to choose April, the "cruelest month" of T. S. Eliot's "The Waste Land," to be our National Poetry Month. I don't know for sure what if any comment was intended by the choice. But it has certainly been great to see the extent to which publishers, librarians, teachers, and booksellers have grabbed hold of the event as a chance to look for new ways of bringing poetry and children together. Now here we are in the middle of June and the search goes on. Marianne Moore, while shrewdly claiming to dislike it, praised poetry as a "place for the genuine." Poets are people who ask to be taken at their word. Children generally ask the same of us as well as of themselves, and so there would seem be some basic connection to be made between poetry and young people. There are probably as many ways to help make that connection as there are ways of discouraging it, however unwittingly, from ever being made. I wonder how many of you here can remember the first time someone read you a poem, or the first time that you read a poem to yourself. I can't. But I do remember the first time I wrote a poem. I was in the second grade and, as one of the three slowest readers in my class, was having weekly sessions with my school's remedial reading teacher, a Miss Dawson. I'm not sure how I decided this, but I somehow did decide that I needed to show this patient, kindly teacher in the blue polka dot dress that words mattered very much to me, even if I couldn't - or preferred not to- read them quickly. The proof I offered up took the form of a poem. Miss Dawson responded in the best way imaginable: by thanking me for the poem I had written and then asking me if I might like to write another. You may find it amusing, as I do, to imagine the time that T. S. Eliot had Groucho Marx over for dinner. Eliot was a life - long Marx Brothers fan, and the two men had been corresponding for years, with Groucho for the most part getting the better of "T. S.," as he blithely addressed the Great Man when he did not simply call him "Tom" - with regards to "Mrs. Tom." On meeting, however, at the poet's London home, in June 1964, it was Marx who felt a bit tongue-tied. And when, after a lull in the conversation, Groucho remarked that his daughter's class at Beverly High was studying "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," Eliot smiled faintly, and said in response that he was sorry to hear about it, because he had never wanted to become required reading. If only writing and reading were as easy breathing out and breathing in. Both are in fact unnatural acts from which, if we are at all lucky, we learn over time to find enjoyment and even great joy. This afternoon, five poets who have published work for young readers will take turns reading one of their poems and telling us, in whatever ways they can or care to, how that poem came to be written. I have a strong feeling that a part of that process can never be explained. "A poet's words," as Wallace Stevens observed, "are of things that do not exist without the words." What other words, then, could possibly account for those that have come together, so compellingly and in such unique fashion, as verse? So often in the classroom and perhaps elsewhere it's in the search from those other words that the poem itself is lost. The search, for instance, for light imagery in Book Four of Paradise Lost. Even so, we humans are talkers by inclination as well as by design. And I feel fairly sure that if dolphins have a highly evolved language of their own, that they too not only create something that we would recognize as verse, but that they also take time out, now and then, from their watery grind to discuss its fine points. So, one good question for us to ask today might be: What are some ways to talk about poetry that can add to a reader's, and especially a young reader's, experience of it? After we've heard from all five poets, there will be time for questions and comments from you. Please don't be shy; I know you won't. And here is one last thought. In a world littered with words stretched and bent out of shape for the sake of selling us something, the heat - seeking honesty and amazing grace of the poet's words are more valuable than ever, and perhaps more so for young people than for anyone else. -Leonard S. Marcus

2001

"What's New" - Archive Item 05

Here is the first in an occasional series of articles contributed by visitors to this site. The writer, Michael N. Geselowitz, PhD., is an historian of science and is the director of the IEEE History Center, Rutgers University. I invite all visitors to contact me about articles of comparable length that they might wish to post in this space in future months. The Wizard of Menlo Park Meets The Wizard of Oz The year 2000 was the centennial of one of the enduring classics of American - and perhaps global - children's literature, The Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum (1856-1919). Baum, universally recognized as one of the giants among the writers of juvenile fiction, went on to write 13 sequels (the last published posthumously). The Oz series spawned numerous official and unofficial continuations, various stage versions, and several film adaptations, including the 1939 Judy Garland classic that caused The Wizard of Oz to be forever part of popular culture. Although not as widely celebrated, last year also marked another centennial?that of Thomas Edison's patent for mass production of the phonograph cylinder, the invention that had earlier launched his reputation as the great inventor of his day. What these two men had in common might not be clear, because lost in the hoopla surrounding the anniversary celebrations for The Wizard of Oz is the fact that this year - 2001 - is the centennial of another book by Baum, The Master Key: An Electrical Fairy Tale Founded Upon the Mysteries of Electricity and the Optimism of Its Devotees. It Was Written for Boys But Others May Read It. Although one of his more obscure works, The Master Key may, as its subtitle suggests, relate to Edison - and we will see that it does! - and it may be of particular interest to Today's Engineer readers (of all genders!). Baum's title suggests a work of science fiction and, it turns out, many current engineers were fans of science fiction in their youth. In the 20th century, juvenile science fiction had a role to play in introducing youngsters to the concepts of science and technology, and to notions of technological process, both good and bad, but very often good. For example, in 1910 Victor Appleton (originally the pen name for Howard Roger Garis, 1873-1962) began his famous Tom Swift series by publishing the first five volumes about the boy inventor and, respectively, his motorcycle, motorboat, airship, submarine, and, finally, electric runabout. Such works enabled children, mainly young boys in the first half of the century, to dream of becoming electrical inventors and scientists. Although often overlooked because of Baum's reputation as a practitioner of fantasy and "the literary fairy tale," The Master Key was an important early link in the development of this genre. Published in 1901 just a year after The Wizard of Oz, but before the scope of Wizard's success had fully sunk in, The Master Key is a fable about a young lad who experiments with electrical science and accidentally summons up the "Demon of Electricity" who reveals to him the potential benefits - and risks - of society turning to electricity for its source of energy. Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens, 1835-1910) had already speculated, in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889), on what would happen if a modern man brought knowledge of electricity and other engineering skills to the Dark Ages. Baum, however, was perhaps the first to speculate specifically not just on what electricity was doing, but what it might do, in a more technically detailed way than even his contemporaries Jules Verne (1828-1905) or H. G. Wells (1866-1946). Perhaps the most telling scene is right near the beginning, when the "Demon" appears to the protagonist and claims to bring knowledge of electricity to humankind. The lad protests that Edison and Tesla already possess such knowledge, but in an exchange quite amusing to the modern engineer, the Demon dismisses our still iconic hero-inventors as ignoramuses. This seems an intentional tweaking of popular perception. Edison's reputation as "The Wizard of Menlo Park" did not escape Baum's notice, and the fact that "The Wizard of Oz" is an "old Kansas Man" who uses chicanery and technology to acquire his new position "over the rainbow" shows that Baum's interest in engineering and engineers was not limited to The Master Key. The Demon then introduces the boy to what he says are the true marvels of electricity, including a magnetic levitation device and an electric stun ray. This column will not say more, because you may want to discover the joys of this book for yourself. It should be fascinating and amusing to anyone interested in electrical science and engineering today, as well as in their history, and readers will enjoy learning of the Demon's gifts and thinking about their relationship to current electrical engineering practice. Fortunately, The Master Key is still available, thanks to a 1976 reprint edition by Dover Publications, and should be obtainable through a bookshop or on-line book dealer. Copyright 2001, The Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers

2001

"What's New" - Archive Item 04

Among other literary events of note, 2000 saw the 100th anniversary celebration of L. Frank Baum's fantasy classic The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and the demise of Civilization, a monthly magazine published in association with the Library of Congress. The following is a letter published in the April/May 2000 issue of Civilization, commenting on an article on Baum's Wizard, which appeared in the magazine's February/March issue: L. Frank Baum's editorship of The Show Window, the trade journal of the National Association of Window Trimmers, bears a closer look as a prologue to Oz. In his editorials for that specialized magazine, Baum allows himself occasional flights of fancy. In one such piece, he imagines two public statues coming to life after dark to comment wistfully on the waxwork good looks of a nearby shop-window mannequin. "She . . . stands there," the first statue says, "looking straight ahead, like a bird of paradise under the spell of a serpent's jeweled eye." In two years' time, the author had moved on from mannequins to the Scarecrow and the Tin Man-more effigies, but this time engaged in a poignant search for life's basics. Baum was now looking past the glittering surfaces of things. No wonder his Wizard is exposed in the end as a flimflam artist with window dressing to spare, but none of the "goods" that make life meaningful. --Leonard S. Marcus © 2000 Contact me

2000

"What's New" - Archive Item 03

The following is an excerpt from a speech given at the opening of the National Center for Children's Illustrated Literature, Abilene, Texas, on September 6, 2000: Children will learn a lot here. They will learn that books are made by people-by older, taller versions of their own naturally bright and curious selves. They will learn that art doesn't just happen, that it takes work to make a work of art, and that art work is work worth doing. They will learn that artists make a living that is also a life-a good lesson for anyone pondering their own future to take home. Children who come here will also be led back to the books from which the exhibitions are drawn. While grown-ups debate the significance of school children's reading test scores, this museum will be a place where children encounter books they absolutely want to read. And by honoring children's book art, this museum says to children that museums are for them. The museums of my New York childhood were mostly grand but forbidding places. I learned to whisper and to fade into the woodwork-while taking care not to touch the woodwork! The warm welcome that the NCCIL extends to young people will, I predict, serve not only to its own long-term benefit but also to that of cultural institutions generally. Kids who have good experiences here will grow up to be tax-payers who support and prize the arts. The poet W. H. Auden once observed: "There are some good books which are only for adults, because their comprehension presupposes adult experiences, but there are no good books which are only for children." I doubt there are any good museums that are only for children, either. Certainly this one isn't. The NCCIL is a place where adults and children can come together to share some of the things they care about in common: stories and pictures too good to forget, the joy of making something that delights or touches another person. The NCCIL is a cultural bridge across generations. How appropriate that this museum's inaugural exhibition presents the work of a father and a son. Children today live in a harsh and uncompromising world, a world in which people are always trying to sell them something. In such a world, in which so many ill-conceived and misleading messages are conveyed in visual terms, children must learn, as early as possible, that seeing is a thought process involving evaluation and choice on our part. They must learn that seeing is something we do not just with our eyes but with our minds and hearts. To understand the art of the illustrator is to begin to understand what seeing is really all about. I cannot imagine a better place for children, or anyone, to learn what they need to know about seeing for themselves than here. Copyright 2000 by Leonard S. Marcus Contact me

2000

"What's New" - Archive Item 02

The following is an excerpt from the keynote speech given on May 18th at the Harvard Club, New York, at the presentation of the 2000 Irma Simonton and James H. Black Award, sponsored by the Bank Street College of Education: Margaret Wise Brown never won a prize for her work. It is true that her long-time collaborator Leonard Weisgard was awarded the Caldecott Medal for The Little Island, a picture book Brown wrote under the pseudonym of Golden MacDonald. But the texts of "baby books," as hers were sometimes dismissively called, were not by and large considered Newbery material. And it is probably just as telling as it is amusing that Brown got hold one day of a stash of gold foil Caldecott medallions, and pasted them, one and sometimes two at a time, onto several of her own unpublished manuscripts. Brown once said that it had not mattered to her as a child who wrote the books she read; it only mattered whether or not a book seemed true. At age 8 or 9 or 10, Margaret Wise Brown might have made a very good Irma S. and James H. Black Award judge. True, though, in what sense of the word? In an article written in 1951 for that year's Book of Knowledge Annual, Brown offered this standard by which to measure a picture book's success: "A book should try to accomplish something more than just to repeat a child's own experiences. One would hope rather to make a child laugh or feel clear and happy-headed as he follows a simple rhythm to its logical end, to jog him with the unexpected and comfort him with the familiar; and perhaps to lift him for a few moments from his own problems of shoe laces that won't tie and busy parents and mysterious clock time into the world of a bug or a bear or a bee or a boy living in the timeless world of story." Copyright 2000 by Leonard S. Marcus Contact me

2000

"What's New" - Archive Item 01

The following is a portion of a statement I made on January 27th before the New York State Assembly Committee on Libraries & Education Technology. It's my valentine to children's librarians everywhere: Because I write primarily about children's literature, I would like to speak briefly on behalf of public library service to children. A century ago, public libraries in this country posted signs reading, "No dogs or children allowed." In the years that followed, American librarians, including some trained at Brooklyn's Pratt Institute, pioneered the philosophy and techniques of bringing books and children together in the friendly atmosphere of a library reading room created specially for them. The work begun in this way in the 1910s and 20s became a model for public libraries throughout the world, from London to Tokyo. That is a heritage we should be proud of. But why is library service to children worth supporting now and in the future? We hear a lot in the news about children's reading scores. People who care about these test scores should care about public library service to children. Children become strong and effective readers by reading books they truly enjoy. The books they are likeliest to enjoy are the ones that best match their individual interests and needs. Parents-even highly educated parents--very often do not know what books to choose for their own children. There are many reasons for this. For one thing, more than 4000 new children's books are published in the United States each year. The choices can seem overwhelming. For another, at bookstores today, especially at the chains, parents very often encounter staff who are neither experienced nor knowledgable enough to make informed suggestions. At Parenting magazine, where space is valuable real estate, I am able to review approximately 150 books each year-less than five percent of the total published. And Parenting has one of the strongest commitments to children's literature of any medium I know. The New York Times appears daily but reviews children's books once a month. The Daily News and the New York Post do so, at most, once a year. And how often do you hear children's books discussed on the Tonight Show or the Today Show, unless the author of the book happens also to be a celebrity? Isn't it strange -and sad, really--that it is so much easier to hear the news that American children can't read than it is learn about the very books that would inspire them to read well, if only they and their parents knew about them? In this distorted environment, one group-the children's librarians--have consistently worked to make things better. Librarians very often do know what the right book will be for a given child. And in my experience, librarians are eager to help make that connection. Over the last century, no group in fact has done more to promote literacy in this country than our children's librarians. Their work should be recognized and supported as the contribution to our nation's future that it is. Copyright 2000 by Leonard S. Marcus Contact me

2000

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