Cynical politics and awesome first ladies

Dear Aunt Debbie,

And Happy Presidents' Day to you!  Bad Kitty sounds like a funny way to get into the topic of politics, though perhaps, as you say, a tad cynical for a first time through.  Then again, it's hard not to feel cynical these days when trying to explain the democratic process to one's children.  We've had a few conversations about the presidential election with Eleanor -- nothing about the Electoral College, so I'm afraid I'm no help on that front, but a few of those Major Conversations that pop up when you're not expecting them as a parent, often just before bedtime: What color is God's skin?  What happens when we die?  What's the difference between Democrats and Republicans?

We read Duck for President a while back, and while I adore Doreen Cronin and Betsy Lewin's Dooby Dooby Moo, I remember not loving this one as much.  It's wacky, as their books about the animals on Farmer Brown's farm tend to be, but at least when we last picked it up, also struck me as aimed at slightly older, more savvy readers.  Maybe worth picking up again.

The most presidential book we own at the moment is Eleanor's new book of  Obama paper dolls, which my father bought for her birthday.  They're Tom Tierney dolls -- the best paper doll artist ever, and worthy of a complete post someday soon.  It's laudatory, and the text inside is mostly about the clothes.  I love Tom Tierney.  (If you're feeling quite cynical and a little more adult, but still want an activity book, I'd recommend the Idiots' Books mix and match book Build Your Own President, created by my former college classmates, Matthew Swanson and Robbi Behr.)

Rachel at Even in Australia posted recently about historical president books.  Her post made me realize that I've never written here about the first book you gave Eleanor, sent to us mere weeks after she was born: Amelia and Eleanor Go for a Ride, by Pam Munoz Ryan, illustrated by Brian Selznick.

The Eleanor of the title is, of course, Eleanor Roosevelt; Amelia is Amelia Earhart, and apparently the two women were friends in real life.  Ryan draws inspiration from an actual historical episode: an evening when Amelia joined Eleanor for dinner at the White House, and later in the evening the two went flying in an airplane together.  In the fictionalized version, the flight is a spur of the moment decision, and Amelia and Eleanor are the only ones in the plane, swooping over Washington DC at night.  They return to the White House only to go out again, so that Eleanor can take Amelia for a spin in her new car.  The back of the book provides accurate historical information: there were other pilots on the plane, it was arranged ahead of time, Earhart didn't fly it the whole way, etc.  I like having the facts laid out at the end, but allowing for a little bit of fantasy in the plot.

Our Eleanor is a big Eleanor Roosevelt fan, and the depiction of Roosevelt and Earhart is compelling.  They're both presented as strong-willed, charismatic women who aren't shy about pursuing their interests.  And of course, Selznick's drawings are fantastic -- I didn't make the connection until picking the book up again last week that of course these portraits and DC landscapes were penned by the artist and writer who created Hugo Cabret and Wonderstruck.  What an awesome man.  And what awesome women.

Love, Annie

Combat and kids

Dear Annie,

I love Charlie Parker Played Be Bop.  I also love Hand Hand Fingers Thumb, but feel extremely guilty that I knew you were reading the abridged board book version, but I still haven't sent you the
unabridged one. Unlike many of those Bright & Early abridged board books, I think the one you've got hasn't changed the words, which is what makes it so good.  I've always thought of the book as having some historical content: those monkeys are such beatniks, as is their beat.  Published in 1969, oddly enough, in the post-beat era.

I'm doing an about-face on topic here, because I had an interesting question today at the store. A ten year-old boy and his mom were looking for books for him about the Iraq war.  He had seen and wanted an adult book,
The Good Soldiers, by David Finkel. I carry it because the American Library Association listed it on their Ten Best Adult Books for Teenagers list, and because it's a good, (although searing) book.  I completely do not see it as a book for a ten year-old, no matter how precocious.  He really wanted something about the Iraq war -- was basically tired of the many books that exist for his age group about World War II and earlier.  He wanted to read about something that takes place during his lifetime.  His mother worried that he was caught up in the romance of war and combat, although she was willing to pursue the question.  I find it hard to imagine anything depicting romance of war in a combat zone in which roadside bombs and suicide bombs are two of the main methods of killing.

I found two possibilities, both rated as Young Adult, and neither of which I've read.  I carry
Sunrise Over Fallujah by Walter Dean Myers, a writer whom I usually like a lot.  The novel focuses on the men and women in one company, during 2003.  The reviews give the impression that Myers communicates the terror and frustration of the war, but aims it at a school-age audience.

The other book I found (good old Google) and have ordered to look at is called
Ghosts of War: The True Story of a 19-Year-Old GI by Ryan Smithson. It's one young man's memoir of fighting in Iraq. The book was published in 2009, but appears to be based on events a few years earlier.  I have the impression it doesn't have the literary strength of the other two books.

There are also books about the non-combatants: children whose parents go off to war, child refugees displaced by war.  They held no interest for my young customer.

I've ended up full of questions I don't know the answers to.  What to do for this very likable smart ten year-old boy?  Does one help one's child pursue interests wherever they lead?  My immediate reaction is yes, and the parent goes along for the ride.  This mother was definitely planning to read whatever her son ended up getting.  At what age does one start exploring the horrifying-but-true? 

I know you teach The Things They Carried, by Tim O'Brien, to your high school students.  Freshmen?  Seniors? Is there a difference? What are your reactions to this ten year-old?

This all feels a long way from last week's festival of love.  But one of the things I really like about my job  is the constant surprise of where books can lead kids -- and adults.

Love,

Deborah