fine reads: one hundred is a family

One Hundred Is A Family, by Pam Muñoz Ryan and illustrated by Benrei Huang is, on its face, a book about counting set to rhyme: both popular subjects with my three year old. Its underlying themes, however, are ones of diversity, community and stewardship of the earth; the families represented are multigenerational, chosen, single-parent, in some cases ambiguously gendered and -- most importantly -- all happy to be hanging out together. 

Beginning with a single child ("one, finding a place to call home") and counting through ten, then by tens to one hundred, each number represents a different concept of family, from two women and a young girl stargazing to a farmful of workers bringing in the harvest. In the final pages, one hundred people tend the earth to make it better for the child pictured at the book's start. My preschooler quickly seized on this idea and turned back to the beginning to look at the kid, pointing out that all one hundred people were "his family, and the earth's family, too."

Huang's cheerful watercolored characters aren't overly stylized or arty, and are shown planting a garden, eating around a big table, hiking, and (most exciting, for me) co-sleeping four to a bed (without mention of poverty or implied pity - imagine that!), among other fun, often festive activities. A Chinese New Year celebration illustrates number seven ("a family keeping traditions of the past") and this sparked a neat bedtime conversation about the lanterns and dragon, and the similarities to American New Year's celebrations. 

As the numbers climb higher, the concept of family gets broader, including a school posing for a portrait and a neighborhood gathered for winter caroling. Muñoz Ryan's approach here is admirable. Where many children's books over-explain, One Hundred Is A Family assumes you can hang with the relative subtlety of families of origin shown next to communities, and see the importance of both. My three year old, who regularly calls his preschool classmates his brothers and sisters, was certainly able to buy in to the idea, and I'm sure others like him, with a large extended chosen family would be able to do the same.

No time was given in this book to defining characters' gender, and while some of the people present more typically, with 1990s side ponytails or skirts, there are plenty of folks with no obvious gender, leaving the door to interpretation wide open. My son identified two families as having two mamas (one of which was the co-sleeping cuties at left), and a few of the baseball cap-clad kids as girls though they were indistinguishable to me from the ones he identified as boys.

Several races and ethnicities make appearances, here, with no tokenism or heavy-handed approach to diversity. The feeling is truly one of inclusion, not for its own sake, but because it fits the story. 

Overall, we found One Hundred Is A Family refreshing, fun and inspirational. With the tie-in to caring for the earth, it's a timely choice for our garden-loving crew as we prepare for spring, and a relatable read for my littles, with chosen families as cherished as the ones they were born into. 

Ratings:

KIDS' GENDER NEUTRALITY: *****

Five stars for some skirts, some headbands, but plenty (and I do mean plenty) of kids in neutral colors with no gender signifiers and nothing to tell you how anyone identifies. Nary a gendered pronoun in sight. 

FAMILY SITUATIONS: ***** 

Five stars for happy families doing things like eating a meal around a big table and sleeping four to a bed. Lots of babies as active participants and older folks as relevant and fun. Characters' neutrality means pretty much any familial configuration can find representation.

MULTICULTURALISM: *****

Five stars for people of different races and ethnicities depicted hanging out, doing stuff with their loved ones rather than exemplifying stereotypes. Traditions are respectfully hinted at, as in the picture of a Black family stitching together a quilt, but don't overpower the more powerful message of togetherness.  

GENTLE PARENTING: ****

Four stars for co-sleeping and family members of all ages working together harmoniously. Big people looking lovingly at littles, and the implication of mutual respect. 

STORY AND ILLUSTRATION QUALITY: ***

Three stars for a somewhat dated illustration style I don't personally love, but my son found fun and accessible if not wow-inducing. A well worn rhyming scheme perfect for toddlers and preschoolers, with a beautiful overarching message and simple text appropriate for young listeners and readers. 

OUR FAMILY'S OVERALL RATING: ****

Four stars. A sweet, uplifting and inclusive book I didn't mind re-reading when asked, which gave us the opportunity to talk about our different families and communities, and what other families look like. No problematic gender stereotypes, ageism or scary stuff to turn off my sensitive son. Cartoony but well-done illustrations that appeal to preschoolers. A fine read indeed! Check it out at your library or buy it at Powell's or Amazon.  

As a closing note: So many people have offered their suggestions for Fine Reads, and each book mentioned is added to my reading list. Thank you, all, for the ideas about subject matter, authors and books you've loved sharing with your own kids, or remember enjoying as children yourselves. Most of what's recommended to me are books that deal directly with same sex parents, boys that wear dresses, and the like. While these are great, I wanted to clarify that they aren't my focus. I know that I could walk into a library and ask the librarian for a book about having two moms, for example, but a child with two moms doesn't need to learn about that phenomenon. Instead, I'm trying to find books that simply show diversity, different families, gender de-emphasis, and differing abilities as truths that fade into the background of an otherwise-angled story. I think this might make my small efforts a more universal resource, and I hope that the open-endedness of the books I choose leaves more room for self-directed thought and discussion by young readers and their big people. That said, keep those rec's coming! 

fine reads: when winter comes

When Winter Comes, by Nancy Van Laan, illustrated by Susan Gaber, is a short and sweet read that answers questions like, "Where oh where do the leaves all go when winter comes and the cold winds blow?"

With calm, rhythmic text, this book manages to be at once informative and soothing. Classified as a title for "the very young," my almost three year old loved the somewhat muted, earth-toned acrylic-painted illustrations and the rhymes, and enjoyed being able to answer some of the posed questions himself.

Before cozying up in bed, a child (whose only real gender signifier is a very cute bob, though interestingly I can only find them referenced as 'he') explores the outdoors with two big people (one of whom looks rather female; the other is just an adult in winter clothes). They check out the icebound pond, wonder about where the flowers went, and eventually make their way back to the house, where the little one gets ready for sleep.

A perfect bedtime story for sensitive kids, this has no tension, just wintery imagery heavy on the beauty and wonder of the cold weather. When Winter Comes is relatable for anyone who lives in a snowy clime, but is equally appealing for those in warmer places who like a little seasonal vicarious living.

There's nothing didactic about the adults; I got the impression that they were -- as we were --along for the ride, being led by the child's questions about the nature that surrounds us. They seem fairly ambiguously-aged as well as gendered (in the case of the blue-coated grownup), and, because there's no mention of them by name or title, they could easily be two mamas, a mama and a papa, grandparents or any other combination of a vaguely feminine person and someone else. The clothing and surroundings don't speak to a time period, and so this story feels enduring despite having been written in 2000. Racial identitiy is similarly ambiguous; the family's dark hair and the child's olive complexion mean this story could come across as a depiction of many different ethnicities and a few different races, with some room for multiracial or multiethnic families to feel represented.  I, of course, imagined a little Jewish girl, and started scheming about how to recreate that hat.

Ratings:

Kids' Gender Neutrality: ***** 

Five stars for an outdoors-exploring, nature-interested kid dressed in simple, non-gendered clothing, without a name, with no pronouns and only a bob-with-bangs to serve as a hint to their gender. 

Family Situations: ****

Four stars for two companion adults, one of whom is probably female, not mentioned by name or pronoun but obviously loving and engaged. 

Multiculturalism: **

Two stars for a family that is not necessarily white, but not obviously anything else.

Gentle Parenting: ***

Three stars for involved adults who take a backseat to the child, and for a story with no correction and no negativity but lots of clearly (if poetically) stated answers to questions my own toddler might ask.

Story and Illustration Quality: ****

Four stars for beautiful pictures and truly endearing, lilting text. For a picture book, maybe a little too spare, but if this were a board book it would get five stars, easily. 

Our family's Overall Rating: ****

Four stars. George found it a "nice and quiet" exercise in rhyming, which he's loving lately, and especially liked the page about caterpillars. I appreciated the simplicity and warmth despite the snowy subject matter, and the inherent inclusiveness of a book with characters like these. When Winter Comes was enjoyable enough that I'll be looking for it to add to our permanent library here at home! Buy it at Powell's, or Amazon, or check it out at your local library.

fine reads

We like to read, a lot, my kids and I. Visiting the library is a weekly (and sometimes bi-weekly) thing for us, and I can't skip over the book section of any thrift shop, which is another place we frequent. I try not to deny my kids any books, even though some of George's choices have led to improv work at storytime, to avoid... questionable text either I wasn't ready to tackle or he wasn't ready to hear. Picture books can be surprisingly dogmatic and violent! Despite my willingness to let them take home just about anything, however, there are some themes that I seek out, and qualities I look for in a picture book, to sort of level the field and normalize other realities for my white, (so far) cis-gendered kids who happen to have a "traditional" two-parent family. Unfortunately, these qualities in children's literature are also pretty hard to find, and difficult to search. Nobody's making Amazon lists called "non-heteronormative, multicultural books with ambiguous family situations your toddler will LOVE!" So goes the refrain of every over-achiever: I'll just do it myself. 

In a new series, Fine Reads, I'll be reviewing books we discover that are widely available online at Amazon or, preferably, Powell's, and rating them based on these criteria:

Kids' gender neutrality: I'll be noting whether or not there are gender pronouns used, if the children in the stories have gender-neutral names, or present in a typically-gendered way. 

Family situations: I'll be looking for books that include non-traditional families, including same sex parents, single parent families, children raised by non-biological parents (adoptive parents, grandparents, surrogate and foster families, etc.), or books that simply don't specify who the pictured adults are. 

Multiculturalism: This does not mean books about "the first Thanksgiving" and the like. I'm on the lookout for stories that feature regular ol' non-white or ethnically ambiguous families/children without tokenizing or fetishizing. 

Gentle parenting: Not looking for incidences of punishment or other bummers, though I'm not anti-parents just don't understand situations á la Maurice Sendak's entire oeuvre. 

Story and illustration quality: With obvious bias, but I'll comment on these, too. I'm often disappointed in children's books for their inattention to the story in favor of hip or pretty pictures. 

and, finally, Our family's overall rating: I'll be using a star system, with one being the lowest and five the highest. I'll link to where you can purchase the book for yourself, and no posts will be sponsored or otherwise subsidized unless information to the contrary is clearly stated. I'm not interested in shilling books for anyone, just in providing a resource for llikeminded parents and reading some good books with my kids. 

Are there any other criteria you'd like to see me cover? Leave a comment and I may add it to the list! Look for the first review coming in a few days; we checked out a very sweet title from our library last week! 

thrifty sunday: long time, no see

I mentioned that we moved, right? To a whole different city, with different places to shop. A new co-op, which, incidentally, is about a thousand times more amazing than the Bellingham co-op; a new farmer's market that we explored for the first time this weekend; and, of course, a new set of thrift stores. While I appreciate the old standbys -- Value Village and Goodwill -- much like I appreciate familiar chain grocery stores, I dearly love finding new weirdo charity shops because they're usually cheaper and stocked with older stuff. 

Another change: one of us is gainfully employed! And it isn't me! Yeah, I just spend the money. Which is what I did to celebrate. 

1. Saucony "baseball shoes" in George's size, $3.99. He spotted these amid an unfortunate sea of Disney princess slippers and bizarrely inflexible dress shoes and said, "Those fit me!" He was right, and we're nearing the end of Crocs season so it was positively providential.

2. Three books, $1.99 each. How To Talk So Kids Will Listen... has been on my reading list forever, Positive Discipline in the Classroom seemed a helpful choice for a high school-cum-new middle school teacher such as Nathan, and Wonder Play (a book of stuff to do with the under-three set) is put out by the 92nd St Y, so was an easy sell.

3. Seattle Mariners shirt, $.99. What better time to wear a Mariners shirt?

4. Seemingly unworn Hanna Andersson clogs, $9.99. Pricey for a thrift store purchase, no doubt, but seriously: brand new! Purple clogs! 

5. Painting of a lady, $1. Signed "Don '54." It was a dollar! My heart hurts a little anytime I see someone's artwork languishing in a thrift store. Also, I love portraiture. Poor Don. Poor Lady. She's filthy, but she'll have a good home here.

6. Guatemalan dress, $1.99. Perfect for Zelda's fall wardrobe, with some wooly tights and a homemade cardigan, and plenty of room for the giant diaper bum. 

6.5. Again, the clogs!

spoiler alert: i love suzanne collins

I just finished reading Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games trilogy. It blew my mind. Totally and completely blew my mind. I'm a reader, and I'm skeptical of hugely popular young adult series for their manufactured mass appeal, the terrible norms they tend to perpetuate and the shoddy writing and editing that goes overlooked when time is money and the audience is waiting to find out which creepy, immortal jerk Bella will marry. Several friends had recommended The Hunger Games, but (alas) countless are the number of people I know who've loved Harry Potter, so it wasn't until I started seeing Suzanne Collins raved about on feminist blogs that I started to believe the series might be really good. 

Um. It is. Really, really good. It broke my heart. Broke it in two, then into thirds, and slowly, surely, into a million pieces and... left it there. Few storytellers have the nerve to do that: to offer little or no redemption for the characters with whom they know you've fallen in love. As the series progressed, I found it harder and harder to believe that a grown woman wrote these stories, as I couldn't imagine her allowing such terrible fates to befall children, fictional or otherwise. And that led me to consider the real children who make up Collins' intended audience. Of course, the actual readership is much larger, more varied than the suggested reading level suggests, as it should be. In reading, however, in suffering every gory loss, detailed and mourned by poor Katniss Everdeen and in experiencing, by proxy, the horrors of battle, I appreciated -- on one hand -- the indictment of war, but found myself aghast at times. Could kids really handle this? I looked periodically at my own, as he slept and I tried to angle my Kindle's light away from his face. Of course not! How could he process this at twelve, at fifteen, even at Katniss' stated age -- seventeen -- when I was having a hard time dealing? When is anyone prepared for such a vivid, largely unforgiving picture of death and violence and need and desperation?

But as I thought, I considered the books I read in adolescence, even shortly before. I tried to remember any that had scarred me -- none had, so far as I can tell. It struck me that it's possible that our teenage years are the perfect time for these gut-wrenching stories that are somehow nuanced while beating us over the head with message. In order to get invested without falling into a depression, I thought; In order to feel for these characters without being distracted by your want to save them, you have to feel invincible. You have to be a kid. 

I am always learning. Always surprised by the revelations I have now that I'm a parent, looking through the glass at the other side of childhood. I hope that when George is twelve, fifteen, seventeen, however old, I can trust his judgment. Give him the freedom to read, see, do what he can, because, as I'll tell him, if you wait until you're older -- until you have kids of your own -- your heart will be mush. You'll read books written for ninth graders while silently begging your snoring sixteen month old never to enlist in the military.