This was a significant year for children's books. For the first time since the Newbery was established in 1922, it was awarded an Asian-American writer; Linda Sue Park won the Newbery for A Single Shard (Clarion, $15, ages 9-12). The Printz Young Adult award also went to an Asian-American author; An Na won the prize for her first published novel, A Step from Heaven (Front Street, $15.95; ages 11 and up) . In Britain, Philip Pullman became the first children's book author to win the prestigious Whitbread Book of the Year for The Amber Spyglass (Random House, 19.95; ages 11 and up). These books have something more remarkable in common than their wins. None are easy reads, each requires distinctive and convincing expression to succeed.
Linda Sue Park's A Single Shard is set in 12th century Korea and begins with the description of a tender relationship between Tree-ear, a 14-year old orphan, and Crane-man, who has clothed, fed and reared him since he was two. Their village of Ch'ulp'o is famous for its celadon pottery and after Tree-ear scrambles for food, he spends hours watching the perfectionistic and short-tempered master potter, Min, create clay miracles on his wheel. Tree-ear's journey to belonging is filled with struggles each of which he accomplishes honorably; from chopping firewood until his hands bleed to facing thieves while delivering Min's work to the royal court.
Park's research is thorough and she writes with a familiarity that awakens readers' interests in everything from politics to pottery. She conveys complex ideas with a simplicity that gives the slim novel a zen-like feel. Tree-ear is so curious, willing, honest, and loyal, he runs the risk of being too good to interest readers. But the author wisely pits him against a cruel society, an unkind employer, and then sends him on a dangerous pilgrimage. The reward for his sincerity and dedication seals the book's success as surely as the Newbery medal on its cover.
An Na's A Step from Heaven is the story of a Young Ju, a Korean girl whose family escapes poverty by emigrating to America. The novel escapes cliche through the author's poignant telling. Na begins this narrative when Young Ju is a small child. She persuades and hooks readers by combining lyricism with a limited viewpoint to communicate character and situation. We quickly know and worry about this little girl who is nurtured by her mother and grandmother's love, but lives in a fragile world easily shattered by her father's drinking and abuse. Young Ju rarely gets to hear her mother's "squeaky-shoes laugh" and she prays to her deceased grandfather to "send God down so he can be Jesus again and give Apa his spanking."
The narrator might miss subtleties, but the author doesn't. She contrasts Young Ju's innocence with the adults' comments. As Young Ju's mother prepares her for travel to Mi Gook (the US), she tells her daughter to wear "the only nice dress you have and try not to raise your arm too high." Young Ju believes she is traveling to heaven and when she reaches the house of her "big, round money eyes" American uncle, she is disappointed until told that Mi Gook is "almost as good as heaven. Let us say it is a step from heaven."
This irony plays out as Young Ju faces intensifying difficulties.Without mentioning age, Na shows us Young Ju's growing up through shifting perspectives, increasingly complex imagery and by charting thedisintegration of the girl's family life.
On first arrival, Young Ju's problems are small. She feels strange as she drinks "Ko-ka Ko-la", a dirty black water with bubbles that "bite the inside of my mouth and throat like swallowing tiny fish bones." As the story continues, Young Ju's problems and her awareness become more sophisticated. Poverty, acculturation, and her father's growing cruelty plague Young Ju as she reaches adolescence.
Na's vivid sensory descriptions pull us into Young Ju's world, make us squirm and wish for relief, even as we admire her eloquent voice. The sights, sounds, smells and poignant images trap us with their power. We know her mother's calloused hands and her father smell of alcohol mixed with ammonia and bleach from his janitorial job. This is a hard book to read, but the ending brings some well-deserved solace to Young Ju and readers who have suffered with her.
Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass concludes the trilogy which he began in The Golden Compass and continued in The Subtle Knife. These books are best read in order for you need the foundation to understand and know the heroes, Lyra and Will, and their parallel words. Lyra lives in a world that has the feel of turn-of-the-century England where religion, alchemy and science vie for power and innocent Lyra is able read a mystical instrument that tells the future. She meets Will in the second book. He comes from world where specters can suck out your soul and he has a knife that can cut doors into other worlds. The first two books were so well-done that it seemed impossible for Pullman to create a satisfying conclusion. His triumph was known to his followers long before the Whitbread acknowledged it; partly from his skill in making references to Dante, the Bible, Homer an Aeschylus, without bogging down the story.
In The Amber Spyglass , Lyra and Will's relationship blossoms. Its guileless beauty contradicts the horrors of war that surrounds them, while their pubescent struggles correspond to the tenuous global situation where changes come abruptly and unexpectedly, and one often feels alone. Separation is both a symbolic and organizing structure; subplots coexist and the characters strain to find unity.
Pullman doesn't end this series simplistically, but creates one last irony. After an Armagedon-like clash that is Blakian in concept and feel, Lyra and Will move forward in a bumbling way, their adolescent overwhelm a perfect symbol for the new order. For the good of their individual worlds and their shared universe, they must separate and struggle to regain what they've had together.
Parallel worlds, 12th century Korea, and simultaneous struggles of acculturation, poverty and abuse are not the common experience of young readers. Pullman, Park and Na let characters lead their audiences into words and worlds they might never otherwise know and their warranted medals will help these authors reach more children and adults. It was a significant year for children's novel awards. There were two first-time Asian-American winners; Linda Sue Park won the Newbery for A Single Shard (Clarion, $15.00; ages 9-12) and An Na won the Printz YA award for her first published novel, A Step from Heaven (Front Street, $15.95; ages 11 and up) . In Britain, Philip Pullman became the first children's book author to win the Whitbread for The Amber Spyglass (Random House, 19.95; ages 11 and up) . These books have something more remarkable in common than their wins. None are easy reads, each requires distinctive and convincing expression to succeed.
Linda Sue Park's A Single Shard is set in 12th century Korea and begins with the description of a tender relationship between a Tree-ear, a fourteen-year old orphan and Crane-man, who has clothed, fed and raised him since he was two. Their village of Ch'ulp'o is famous for its celadon pottery and after Tree-ear scrambles for food, he spends hours watching the perfectionistic and short-tempered master potter, Min, create clay miracles on his wheel. Tree-ear's journey to belonging is filled with struggles each of which he accomplishes honorably; from chopping firewood until his hands bleed to facing thieves while delivering Min's work to the royal court .
Park's research is thorough and she writes with a familiarity that awakens readers interests in everything from political structures to celadon pottery. She conveys complex ideas with a simplicity that gives the slim novel a zen-like feel and may intrigue readers into further investigations. Park's website (www.lindasuepark.com) has lots of great visuals but only after reading the book as some of her information may spoil the story.
Tree-ear is is so curious, willing honest, and loyal, he runs the risk of being too good to interest readers. But the author wisely pits him against a cruel society, an unkind employer, and then sends him on a dangerous pilgrimage. The reward for his sincerity and dedication seals the book's success as surely as the Newbery medal on its cover.
An Na's A Step from Heaven is the story of a Young Ju, a Korean girl whose family escapes poverty by emigrating to America. The novel escapes cliche through the author's poignant telling. Na begins this narrative when Young Ju is a small child. She persuades and hooks readers by combining lyricism with a limited viewpoint to communicate character and situation. We quickly know and worry about this little girl who is nurtured by her mother and grandmother's love, but lives in a fragile world easily shattered by her father's drinking and abuse. Young Ju rarely gets to hear her mother's "squeaky-shoes laugh" and she prays to her deceased grandfather to "send God down so he can be Jesus again and give Apa his spanking."
The narrator might miss subtleties, but the author doesn't. She contrasts Young Ju's innocence with the adults' comments. As Young Ju's mother prepares her for travel to Mi Gook (the US), she tells her daughter to wear "the only nice dress you have and try not to raise your arm too high." Young Ju believes she is traveling to heaven and when she reaches the house of her American "big, round money eyes" uncle, she is disappointed until told that Mi Gook is "almost as good as heaven. Let us say it is a step from heaven."
This irony plays out as Young Ju faces intensifying difficulties. Without mentioning age, Na shows us Young Ju's growing up through shifting perspectives and disintegrating family life. These are expressed with poetry and images which continue to astonish readers, but both become more complex, echoing Young Ju's experiences and building a patina of style and story.
On first arrival, Young Ju's problems are small. She feels strange as she drinks "Ko-ka Ko-la", a dirty black water with bubbles that "bite the inside of my mouth and throat like swallowing tiny fish bones." As the story continues, Young Ju's problems and her awareness become more sophisticated. When Apa compares her unfavorably to her newborn brother, her kind uncle tries to soften his brutality, but for Young Ju these " do not make the hurt in my heart go away. The cut of Apa's laugh is still open."
Poverty, acculturation, and her father's growing cruelty plague Young Ju as she reaches her teen years. Na's vivid sensory descriptions pull us into Young Ju's world, make us squirm and wish for relief, even as we admire her eloquent voice. The sights, sounds, smells and poignant images trap us with their power. We know her mother's calloused hands and her father smell of alcohol mixed with ammonia and bleach from his janitorial job. By the end, Apa returns to Korea, her mother purchases a small home and Young Ju is ready to leave to college. This brings well-deserved solace to Young Ju and readers who have suffered with her.
Philip Pullman's Amber Spyglass concludes of His Dark Materials trilogy which debuted with The Golden Compass and was continued in The Subtle Knife. As the series grew so did accolades and the numbers of fans intrigued by his parallel worlds and compelling heroes, Lyra and Will, whose innocence gives them access to magical instruments. Questions grew about how Pullman could provide a satisfying conclusion to these stupendous sequels. His triumph was known to his followers long before the Whitbread acknowledged it; partly from his skill in making references to Dante, the Bible, Homer an Aeschylus, without bogging down the story.
In The Amber Spyglass Lyra and Will's relationship blossoms. Its guileless beauty contradicts the horrors of war that surrounds them, while their pubescent struggles correspond to the tenuous global situation where changes come abruptly and unexpectedly, and one often feels alone. Separation is both a symbolic and organizing structure; subplots coexist and the characters strain to find unity.
Pullman doesn't end this series simplistically, but creates one last irony. After an Armagedon-like clash that is Blakian in concept and feel, Lyra and Will move forward in a bumbling way, their adolescent overwhelm a perfect symbol for the new order. For the good of their individual worlds and their shared universe, they must separate and struggle to regain what they've had together.
Parallel worlds, 12th century Korea and simultaneous struggles of acculturation, poverty and abuse are not in the common experience of young readers. Park, Na and Pullman let characters lead their audiences into words and worlds they might never otherwise know. The medals will only help these authors reach more children and adults.