Monday, April 22, 2013

Billions of Reasons Why You Should Read Carl Sagan's "Billions & Billions," a Blog Post from Halley.


If you're a frequent visitor of our store or our blog, you're probably familiar with our little St.George's Day (April 23rd) competition, I'm also going to assume that you've read Hannah and Paul's pleas for purchase of their books.  Hannah gave you ten reasons for why you should be reading The Illumination,  and Paul one upped her by listing eleven reasons why you should read Cormac McCarthy's Child of God.

I am now presenting you with the ultimate one upmanship by presenting you with ONE BILLION reasons why you need Carl Sagan's Billions & Billions. At least, that was my original plan. Based on the fact that simply counting to a billion would take a person over 31 years, I have decided to pick several of the more compelling of my one billion reasons.

#1. It's Carl freaking Sagan.

#345. The reading of Carl Sagan is a fact that is both impressive to friends and enemies alike. Wow and awe those around you with your new-found hoight-toighty sciency self.

#1224. It's good to get out of your comfort zone. I'm assuming that a lot of our customers don't read science based books for fun. If you're a fiction lover, this is the perfect gateway book to not only nonficiton, but to science writing. Billions & Billions is a collection of essays, which makes it pretty accesable if you're apprehensive of reading an entire book about science. The essay format gives you the ability to pick and choose how indepth you want to get with the book.

#90,546. It talks about important and modern issues. Even though the book is now sixteen years old, Sagan was talking about issues that are still heavily debated today. Billions & Billions covers climate change, green energy, censorship, abortion, and war, amongst other things.

#322,411. The book is humorous. This may be a bit of a shock, but Sagan was actually a funny guy. He was frequently a guest on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show, and Carson's parody of Sagan is the origin of the book's title.

#109,201,200. Even more impressive than Sagan's humor is his humility. This book was written while Sagan was battling a horrific disease that would eventually lead to his death. Sagan writes about his battle and remains to have a beautiful and inspiring outlook on life.

#847,193,645. It's fun to root for (and support!) the underdog. Billions & Billions is in a real niche when compared to my coworkers' choices for the contest. As soon as I saw what I was up against, I knew that I was in for a rough ride. Help pull of the upset of the month.

#1,000,000,000. Science is sexy, but science by a turtle-necked genius is even sexier. Show your support for eloquent science and turtle necks with the purchase of this book.

This eloquent plea for Carl Sagan's Billions and Billions brought to you by St. George's Day. Celebrate with a plush dragon, available in taupe or green.

--Halley.


Saturday, April 13, 2013

11 Reasons Why Cormac McCarthy's Child of God is (Actually) the Best Book You'll Read this Month

Okay, so you've read Hannah's latest post. I'll admit it, those are some pretty good reasons to buy "The Illumination." But I think there's something I have in support of my selection, Cormac McCarthy's "Child of God," that Hannah doesn't have: an extra reason. That's right, without further ado, 11 Reasons Why Child of God is the Best Book You'll Read this Month:

1. It situates itself squarely within the Southern Gothic literary tradition. While reading this book you may find yourself asking aloud: "What is this I'm reading? Is it Faulkner? Is it Flannery O'Connor? Eudora Welty?" Answer: no, it's just one of the strongest and most lyrical American writers alive today at his finest.

2. It asks big questions. If you're a fan of fiction that's not afraid to take on big subjects this book is for you. In a scant 195 pages McCarthy raises problems of grace and violence, depravity and free will, and a common human nature implicates us all in the actions of those we deem to be moral monsters. Woah.

3. Two words: cover art. Vintage has released editions of almost all McCarthy's work with parallel, gorgeous cover art. This could be the first in a magnificent collection.

4. Did you like "The Road?" Did you enjoy making your way through "The Border Trilogy"? Here's a McCarthy book that you'll like just as much, and that you can then recommend to your friends (seriously, like no one has even heard of this McCarthy book. Like it before it's cool!).

5. No one does violence or the grotesque like McCarthy, and no where is it more lyrically rendered than in this book.

6. Because I'll give you a better high-five than Hannah.

7. It's a quick read. You can do it! Sick of all those 600 page tomes that you optimistically purchased and then stopped reading after the first forty pages? This slim volume (at 195 pages, I'm telling you, you can do it!) doesn't sacrifice anything in terms of content, but it's realistic. Seriously: you can do it!

8. Because just because! (Trust me!)

9. What else are you going to spend $15 on? Hannah's book? Puh-lease! (Actually, Hannah's book is really good from what I hear, but don't let that sway you!)

10. Because who needs quotation marks? (McCarthy sensibly does away with all those frills of punctuation like quotation marks, apostrophes and basically anything other than periods.)

11. Do it for America. McCarthy is an example (like Denis Johnson or, I think, Marilynne Robinson) of how contemporary fiction writers can carry on the themes and tropes that have typically preoccupied American writers. So this book might not just be your best read this month, it could also be the most patriotic.

The Illumination by Kevin Brockmeier is the best book you will read this month!

We are having a "friendly" bookselling competition at the store and I want to win.  I picked the Illumination by Kevin Brockmeier as my book to champion.  To compel you to come in and buy a copy, I give you ten indisputable reasons why you should.

1. My favorite prose is that in which beautifully crafted sentences give me goosebumps.  The Illumination gave me ostrichbumps.

2. His last name is Brockmeier.  Half of my last name is Breimeier.  He knows how to spell the "meier" part of his name the right way, therefore he is great and therefore you would like his book.

3. The book is set in a world where suddenly, light emanates from physical pain.  Papercuts emit a small glow, internal bleeding blinds.  It is fun to imagine my wounds shining.  Glitter would become obsolete, which some would consider a good thing.

4. If you enjoy the Illumination, Brockmeier has other delicious writing.  You'll thank me for introducing you to your new favorite author.

5. I will give you a high five.  I am very good at giving high fives because I look at your elbow when doing them.  I can't complete a good high five, however, if you don't also bring it.

6. The cover is really cool.  There are so many bad covers out there, you should buy a book where the cover is as good as the contents and vice versa.

7. For $15 you can have a book whose characters will stay with you for a while or three beers that you'll regret the next day at work.

8. The other books in the competition are just not as good.  That is my completely unbiased opinion, I'm like a journalist!

9. I'm not the only one geeking out about the Illumination, here's Scott Hutchins' review for the New York Times.

10. If you buy it, you will help me on my path to glory.  Everyone likes the winner.  Don't let me suffer from second place depression.  There's enough sadness in the world, why add to it?

Friday, March 22, 2013

Word Nerds, B Part

Here's your second installment of the Word Nerd blog from Boswellians Hannah and Mel. Here we are, tempting you to check out the new Kobo.
 

Well, it's been an interesting few weeks for words. Over at Boswell, we've had remodeling words (complete with free coffee and barista face-time words), awesome-events-booked-recently words, and Mercury-finally-whipping-outta-retrograde words. With spring on the calendar and frigid temps clinging to the ol' thermometer, I'm sure you've all had an interesting past few weeks with words, too. Instead of focusing on that, let's indulge in some focused, specific word awesomeness based on the Tweets and emails we've receieved in response to our first blog post. 
Thanks for your words!

Two of Boswellian Halley's favorite words are oscillate and onomatopoeia. She's our local science-book guru, so it doesn't surprise that she likes oscillate, a word frequently found in physics texts. Yet onomatopoeia makes one wonder if she's writing science-themed poetry on the side. According to Phil Cousineau's Painted Word, which you can find in the Reference case with the writing guides, oscillate means "[t]o waver, move back and forth" (253). He identifies this as "[a]n imaginative word that is rooted in the Latin oscillum, a little mouth, most visually imagined in Virgil's Georgics when he describes a small mask of open-mouthed Bacchus swinging to and fro from a tree in a vineyard."
Really hoping this doesn't infiltrate your dreams this evening.
Upon sharing this with Boswellian Sharon, she said "Oh great--now I will never be able to unsee this." He cites the "pawky" (surely another word worth investigating) H. L. Mencken's use in the epigram, which is appropriate given our words the past few weeks: "'Life is a constant oscillation between the sharp horns of dilemmas'." Innit just.

We turn again to Cosineau's Painted Word for illumination with onomatopoeia--an unintended synesthesia, surely. As "[t]he imitation of a sound associated with the thing being named," onomatopoeia comes "from onomatopoios, from onoma, word, name, and a derivative of poiein, compose, make" (250). Here we have a word for the making-up of words. Brilliant! And it sounds exactly like a made-up-word! DOUBLE BRILLIANT! For those of you who still think the English language fixed, here's your whipakeup call and onomatopoeiatic license to ill-use perfectly good words, manipulating them to be more "sonicky," which is "Roy Blount, Jr.'s term for great-sounding words."
Not just riding a penny farthing, but tricks in a long skirt!
Eating donuts whilst trick-riding on a pennyfarthing seems like the old-timey equivalent of driving a manual transmission whilst eating a cheeseburger and smoking.
Hannah's favorite word is donut. There's no surprising origin of or definition for this word. However, a gang of delicious donut slang abounds. From the OED, we learn that donut usually refers to tires and life preservers, but really covers anything oblong in shape. In 1930, someone wrote of automobile tires: "We clout ten doughnuts an' call it a day." Here HERE. By the 1960's donut had morphed into a different kind of automotive slang. It had become not just the tire or spare tire, but a "manoeuver in which a car or other vehicle is (usually quickly) turned in a complete circle." This makes us nostalgic for summer-time frolickings, which surely are just around the bend. Fresh from the OED listing, this little gem from the New York Times Magazine circa August 1999: "A freckled friend of Sex Machine's loops around him on his bicycle, lazily doing doughnuts." One wonders what a friend of someone named Sex Machine would be named. At any rate, grab any friend (why should Sex Machine have all the fun?), grab your bicycles, and we'll brave it the local donutery, maybe doing a few donuts along the way, before clouting ten donuts an' calling it a day!
These hifalutin smokestacks are totally judging you.
And now for two of Mel's favorites: hornswoggle and hifalutin. The former means "[t]o cheat, bamboozle, hoax," (169) while the latter means Fancy-Pants. Shockingly, both are perfectly functional occupational terms. Hornswoggle is "[a]n old seafaring term, first recorded around 1829, for being tossed around the ship or into the water" (169). Hifalutin brings to mind "fancy steamboats floating" on mighty rivers, their "high fluted [see the contracted hifalutin there?] smokestacks that carried the soot and cinders well away from the passengers," a luxury not extended to the river-rafting riff raff (293). 
Boswellian Anne submitted two perfectly 'placed' words: Shenandoah and Monongahela. The first we could not find a definition for (any fellow Word Nerds out there who know, please email or tweet us!), but the second has an interesting entry in the OED: "the name of the Monongahela river, which runs from West Virginia to southern Pennsylvania, through a region which was an early centre [sic] for the production of rye whisky." The entries listed in the OED stretch from 1805 to 1998, by far the best of them from 1936: "Their drink was Monongahela rye whisky, the universal tipple of the wilderness known on the Mississippi simply as 'good old Nongela'." Quite a legacy for what one writer swore off in 1847, almost a century ealier: "May I never taste Monongahela again!" Now if you'll excuse us, Hannah has to track down some of this shine, and Mel has beg Anne to teach her how to pronounce this word. We'll make a game of it--once Hannah finds her some 'Good Old Nongela,' we'll share, and try pronouncing many different kinds of words. Good. Times. 
Speaking of games, there's an awesome one for all you Word Nerds and Words with Friends afficionados out there. It's really easy: just go to the OED online (those of you with university library subscriptions have free access to it!) and look up a random word. This very well could be the equivalent of taking "dictionary breaks" whilst studying in the library. Go ahead. Need an idea? Try "cat." It'll knock your socks off!
The Etymologicon: A Circular Stroll Through the Hidden Connections of the English Language
Seriously--read this book.
 Finally, you should really carve out some time to peruse Mark Forsyth's book, The Etymologicon, next time you stop by (it's in the Reference case with the writing guides). He has a game in there that's Super Word Nerdy and party-ready to boot! Back in the Quizzes section, you stumble upon "God loves a mud-caked, travelling wolf." It's up to you to ferret out who that famous person is, based on your etymological knowledge. How about Mr. "Courageous Cabbage?" "My Little French Lady?" "The Dwarf in the Priest's Garden?" That last one is none other than Elvis Presley ("Elvis comes from Alvis, a dwarf in Viking mythology. Presley is a variant of Priestly and means one who lives on land belonging to a priest" (266)). Amazewords!!
Regretfully, there are too many words for just two posts. This very well could be a weekly blog idea, but neither Hannah nor Mel have time to commit to a weekly Word Nerd blog post, now that they've discovered Monogahela and books in Hannah's pocket. We'd like to give a shout out to some additionally awesome words submitted by fellow Boswellians and customers: East Side icon Aaron Boyd submitted infidel; our barista neighbor Nick "Slim" King of Starbucks coffee (and Beer Magazine--see below) threw in cabal; Boswellian Nick confessed to loving chocolate; and we all agree that hullaballoo and ridiculous are the bee's knees.
Thanks for indulging our etymophilia and see you around Boswell Book Company for more witty wordplay!

We're really surprised that your favorite word isn't "beer."


Friday, March 15, 2013

At the Crossroads of Gender and Literature: a bookseller conversation



(This written exchange came about as a result of a drawn-out philosophical conversation had by two Boswellians today after they both read a piece in The Daily Beast, titled "Is Masculine Writing Dead?" by novelist Frank Bill, who will be visiting us this Monday, March 18th.)

Stacie
I would say the answer to this question is "Absolutely not." Then again, I am one of those readers who "can relate to and enjoy testosterone-fueled prose." I love that sort of prose, regardless of if it's written by a man or a woman, though I love it most when it's written by a woman. Doesn't that already blur the lines between what is considered masculine or feminine writing? Hell, I think the headline is pretty misleading because Bill doesn't seem to actually be arguing that it is dead. Also, is it possible to even have this conversation with defining what it even means to say "masculine" or "feminine" writing? Isn't that the argument going on all over literature right now?

Paul
Seconded on the hesitation about the title of this piece: it mostly seems polemical, designed to lure suckers like us onto clicking the hyper-link (clearly it worked!). And, agreed on the let's-define-our-terms point, too. At some points throughout this piece it seems like Bill is actually arguing not for a resurgence, or a greater attentiveness, to a kind of literature, but for a return to a way of life or to widely shared traditional cultural gender roles. Maybe that's the question that we should get clear on first: what exactly is Bill arguing for?

Stacie
I’m pretty sure he didn’t come up with the title, or the brief summary underneath. The Daily Beast has more to gain by seeming polemical, than the author does. It seems he’s more into defining what HE sees as his own definition of “masculinity,” with regard to how his personal experiences inspire his writing. After all, the women whose work he reads and admires is a group of writers who offer sparse prose, who keep overt expressions of emotion to a bare minimum and don’t shy away from violence: “Bonnie Jo [Campbell], and Dorothy Allison, Flannery O’Connor, and Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings.” He gives them the same qualification of identity as he gives the male writers who pen that sort of prose and story, saying they “come from and know struggle, understand the land they were raised upon, can wield an edge or a gun…” 

Paul
It actually seems like his argument has very little to do with literature at all. He says, "when walking the isles of a bookstore, those are the characteristics that interest me most, writers who shed light on what masculinity means, what it is to be tough, to be rugged, to be able to take care of your damn self." And bemoans the fact that, "a large number of men have lost their ruggedness. Maybe they never had it. I believe to be a man is to be tough mentally and physically. To have a small set of skills to survive from day to day when needed. Like lifting weights or boxing in a dust and spider-web-infested concrete shed with a tin roof." Really, Frank Bill? "Being a man" means lifting heavy boxes? This is the sort of thing that is going to drive people outside of his target audience absolutely bonkers. Normative claims about "what it is to be a man," and then the caricature of those techno-gadget, McDonald's eating suburban pansies -- we're all pretty tired of those sorts of gender-role rants.

Stacie
Is it fair to ask writers to only portray gender as fluid and not concrete in any sort of culturally-broad, understood terms? I mean, you assert that by writing such views, he’s going to “drive people outside of his target audience absolutely bonkers.” Since when do (or should?) writers care about people outside their target audience? What’s wrong with writing meth-fueled, adrenaline-pumping narratives of desperate, violent men and women and their lives? Don’t they deserve a voice, too?

Paul
I think there's a subtler point, though, to be drawn out of Bill's essay. There's a toughness that's a part of some people's perspective -- let's not make the objectionable assumption that this is "manliness" or even "masculinity" just yet -- and this is something that seems to be of great value to illustrate in fiction.

Stacie
Definitely. It can be argued, based on recent neuroscience, that there is such a thing as “masculine” and “feminine” brains—meaning people are wired to perceive, feel, and interact with the world in ways that are inherently masculine or feminine. The twist here is that this is a sliding scale and that both genders find themselves along that scale in differing ways that can differ even depending on whether we’re talking spatial skills, language, artistic aptitude, empathy, logic, etc. Writers have the opportunity to explore that scale, whether it’s Jennifer Weiner or Emily Giffin writing casual, yet believable dialogue, about women in romantic entanglements in contemporary life while caring about fashion brands; or Ben Percy or Cormac McCarthy writing the sparest prose possible about men hunting, fighting, surviving, and coming-of-age. Then you have Peter Geye, who writes these very masculine stories featuring very manly men with what could be considered feminine prose—lots of carefully wrought, adjective-laden detail and consideration of emotional connection and depth. Or take Alyson Hagy, Jaimy Gordon or Tom Franklin, who both span a wide range of masculine and feminine stories and writing styles.

Paul
Reading The Road I was dumbstruck by the depth of character, the strength and resilience, the sheer toughness of the Man. On the other hand, I'm not sure that any of these properties had to do with the Man's..."manliness."

Stacie
Is “manliness” the same as “masculinity”? Can I be “feminine”—let’s say enjoy makeup and frilly dresses and heels—but also be “masculine” in my ability to navigate, or swing an ax or fire a gun in order to protect or feed my babies?

Paul
Sure, it may be easy to group the set of properties -- ability to survive, willingness to protect, loyalty to one's offspring -- under a single term. But why "masculinity?"

Stacie
Because it quantifies a particular set of beliefs and actions that are quickly and easily recognizable and contextualized for the general public. Both men and women cultivate an “ability to survive, a willingness to protect, loyalty to one’s offspring.” Perhaps it’s in the cultural ways in which they do those things that divides “masculine” from “feminine.”

Paul
My point, then, is just that Bill's essay seems to apply more to fiction that exemplifies a particular set of properties or virtues -- things that we tend to see as valuable in themselves -- and, if we think of it in this way, I'm all for his conclusion: let's not forget this aspect of the human experience. Let's even celebrate literature that illustrates it and illustrates it well! But why rely on those tired gender distinctions, or try to make the point more about traditional gender roles? Drop all that, and I'm in whole-hearted agreement with Frank Bill. I guess you could say, I appreciate this essay in spirit, if not in letter.

Stacie
You know, the work of VIDA:Women in Literary Arts is entirely focused on all sorts of tangents related to this issue. They want to make sure there is no distinction between male and female writers. The problem, inherently, is that there is a distinction. The fight in literary fiction right now, then, is to not only understand that women can write “masculine” books and men can write “feminine” books, but that we need more representation of women who write and review any books at all. One only needs to look at the results of “The Count” to see that the conversation needs to continue. Maybe our solution today, to this particular argument, is to make a display of “masculine” fiction, but with only women writers.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Word Nerds Part One.

Hi All!

Mel here, with part one of a two-part-blog for your reading pleasure. This one's interactive, so if you want to play the game that Hannah and I came up with (rules and such to follow), please tweet us your favorite word @boswellbooks (#faveword). We're collecting your favorite words for part two, coming soon to a Boswellian blog near you.  

Spring is coming (so are book six and season three, Game of Thrones nerds!), which means bugs. This post celebrates "entymology and etymology," or: The Wonderful Peculiarities of Words and Word Origins. For example, the study of insects is "entymology," which you can distinguish from the study of words by the "n." So the old joke is that there's an "n" in the "insects" word. Unless etymology is your thing, I bet you didn't know that we have a great selection of books on the subject at Boswell Book Company. Let's take a tour, shall we?

Up first is my favorite word, "absquatulate," which I discovered in Phil Cousineau's The Painted Word: A Treasure Chest of Remarkable Words and their Origins (shelved in our "Reference" case with the writing guides). Go ahead. Say it out loud. Great, right? Cosineau's definition is: "To flee, abscond, or boogie. This facetious frontier slang combines the notion of speculating with squatting or camping." Who doesn't love the notion of "frontier slang" in this digital day and age? Cousineau continues: "[m]y informant, the tea maven, James Norwood Pratt, tells me that when he was growing up in North Carolina absquatulate meant to 'absent one's family and self abruptly to take up "squatting" elsewhere'" (3). Apparently folks in the 19th century liked to smash words together to come up with funny new words, just like we do today. Daniel wouldn't be happy with me posting my favorite word smash-up here, but I'll give you a few hints. The first part is simply the word "amaze--." Hint two: it's NOT "amazeblog," but it's darn close. I also like "crazement" and "wonderblusting." You should always feel free to absquatulate from the world of Webster to come up with your own slanguage!


Speaking of Webster, did you know how politically-charged the writing of dictionaries has been historically? For more on this, check out The Story of Ain't: America, Its Language, and the Most Controversial Dictionary Ever Published, by David Skinner. According to Skinner, "ain't" really upset the lexicographic apple cart. You can find this wonderful book in  our American History section. This is the same section where we keep The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary, a book by Simon Winchester that blew my view of dictionaries and language as static. Did you know that the Oxford English Dictionary (or "OED," as the cool-kids call it) was written by a bunch of old white British dudes? And that one of them was locked up? Written, no less, on a bunch of index cards, like so many (terrible) notes for high school research papers. Winchester himself is a pretty interesting character: he's a former Oxford geologist. I dig that because I was an English and Geology double-major as an undergrad. One of the greatest things for word nerds about geology is how many awesome adjectives there are available for the naming of rocks. For example, the word "vuggy," which I tried desperately to get Patrick Somerville to include in his amaze-- book This Bright River.

Back in the Reference section, we have another gem: The Unexpected Evolution of Language: Discover the Surprising Etymology of Everyday Words by Justin Cord Hayes. On page 138, we learn the definition of "keister," which seems almost too good to be true: "Original definition: 'strongbox; chest.' New definition: 'buttocks'." According to Cord: "[t]his word derives from the German word 'kist,' meaning chest, as in 'place for valuables.' Germans kept their loot in their 'kists,' and, of course, some nefarious folks would break into those 'kists.' When English speakers 'stole' the word, a chest, safe, or strongbox became a 'keister.' Thus, a burglar might rifle around in your 'keister,' looking for nuggets. Enter pickpockets." Words--why you so fun all the time?


How about this excerpt from the chapter "Sex and Bread" for all you fresh spring lovers? Just a little sumpin' sumpin' from Mark Forsyth's book The Etymologicon: A Circular Stroll Through the Hidden Connections of the English Language: "Freud says that everything was secretly sexual. But etymologists know that sex is secretly food. For example, mating with somebody was originally just sharing your food, or meat, with them (meat meant food of any kind and not just flesh). Likewise, your companion is somebody with whom you share your bread (from the Latin panis)" (34).

Then there's the power of words to make a good blurb. There's this blurb I adore on the back of Andrew Shaffer's Literary Rogues: A Scandalous History of Wayward Authors, which I wish someone would use for blurbage on my memoir: "Extends the schadenfreude to the boudoir," written by the New York Times Book Review. Intrigued? There's a copy of Literary Rogues on one of the new paperbacks tables. Dope. Which used to mean "idiot," and now means "amaze-."


Finally we have the words in titles, which any writer who isn't lying can tell you are difficult to choose. From Dan Wilbur's How Not to Read: Harnessing the Power of a Literature-Free Life (available in the humor section), we have a series of classic book covers with incredibly descriptive new titles. On page 78 there's the childhood favorite by Eric Carle The Very Hungry Caterpillar, retitled Eat Until You Feel Pretty. Then there's Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, which is really Skipping Dinner Is Like Dropping Acid (99). Also hilarious: Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange, which we all know should have been called Way Easier to Watch than Read (91).  

What's your favorite word? Hannah and I want to know. What's your favorite book? Hannah and I want to try to come up with a Wilburesque new title for it! And if you want a good blurb, you've come to the right place. We'll blurb the blurb outta your favorites! Tweet us your faves and look for part two of this blog post: let the word games BEGIN!

Monday, January 21, 2013

Is it reading if there are no words? Wordless picture books, part 2

Wordless picture books rock!  Here are our current staff favorites.  David Wiesner wins the tally with multiple Caldecott-award-winning wordless picture books.  Jerry Pinkney with his mostly wordless interpretation of Aesop's fable Lion & the Mouse also received bookseller praise.  The Arrival by Shaun Tan made it onto picture book editor David Saylor's list in last week's Wordless Picture Books  and two booksellers' this week.  These can be enjoyed by any child of any age.


I'm a big fan of Shaun Tan's The Arrival. My students made quite a big deal about the multiple layers of story possible in it during my Graphic Novel class a few semesters ago. -Mel (Also a Hannah pick.)


I was given a sneak peek of a new wordless book by Mark Pett called The Boy and the Airplane; it isn't due out until April.  It's glorious! -Nick


A shout out needs to be given to my pal Jeff Newman (local author/illustrator!) and his wonderful, wordless book, The Boys.  -Nick


My choice is the Lion & the Mouse by Pinkney. The artwork is SO beautiful!!! Anne (Also a Pam pick.)



FLOTSAM!!!!!  David Wiesner made me cry when he did a slideshow for it at a conference the year it came out. -Stacie  (Also a Jannis and Pam pick.)

 

The Island and The Treehouse by Marije and Ronald Tolman and The Umbrella by Ingrid and Dieter Schubert for their stunning beauty and endless adventures.  -Hannah

Tuesday, Three Pigs and Freefall by David Wiesner, Good Day Carl books by Alexandra Day, You Can't Take a Balloon into the Metropolitan Museum by Jacqueline Preiss Weitzman and Gem by Holly Hobbie -Pam

Truck by Donald Crews is a favorite of Jannis.
Be sure to take your time; these pictures are not meant to be easily dismissed in favor of words.   You'll be inspired by the creativity of these authors/ illustrators.

Happy looking,
Hannah