An Infinity of Meanings

When writing nonfiction, an author can’t help but encounter readers who have a different definition of a key word, which can be disconcerting at times. In these days of emails, blogs, podcasts, and other wonders of the digital age, authors are more likely to hear about it such discrepancies. Today I listened to a podcast on the wonderful Just One More Book review site about Missing Math: A Number Mystery. One of the reviewers mentioned she didn’t agree with the definition of infinity given in the book, “a number that never ends.” So, I left a comment on their blog to further discuss it. The basic definition I went by states that infinity is the quality or condition of being infinite; unbounded space, time, or quantity. After rummaging around on the 'net a bit, some people say infinity isn’t any particular number, but is instead a more general concept.

Hmmm... I think any number can become an example of infinity if endless numerals are added to it. And— there can be an infinite number of infinite numbers. In any case, it’s been fun to think more about it, (though after a while my brain starts to melt.) As for the story itself, the thief was trying to string enough numbers together to reach infinity... while it can’t be done, it provided an absurd motivation for him to steal all the numbers.

One of my books was all about definitions, There‘s a Frog in My Throat: 440 Animal Sayings That a Little Bird Told Me (co-authored with Pat Street.) Many of the similes, proverbs, idioms, and other sayings could have more than one meaning. For example, “hot dog” can be an exclamation of appreciation; a show-off; or the act of showing expertise. To avoid protestations that we‘d left out a definition, we put an authors’ note at the beginning to explain that one popular meaning would be shown for each saying, but that the reader may know another one.

My fall 2008 book is Crazy Like a Fox: A Simile Story. I‘ll describe it in a future post, but it did cross my mind that some people might object to the word “crazy” because it can have a derogatory connotation in regards to mental health. It’s too soon to say if anyone will object to that word... my feeling was that it’s ultimately a compliment in the context of this saying, since the confusing actions are intended to mask an intelligent strategy.

I mentioned in a previous post how a change in the definition of planet excluded Pluto from official planetdom and thus had a deleterious effect on my Postcards From Pluto. Usually word meanings come from common usage rather than get decided by a group of experts.

This example isn't within the text of Missing Math itself, but a School Library Journal reviewer's comment about the illustration was a little perplexing: “Imagine a world without numbers. Madly trying to replace them, but to no avail, two-dimensional, wide-eyed, nattily dressed animals cavort on brightly colored pages...” Two-dimensional? Aren’t most illustrations in books two-dimensional? Aside from pop-ups or photographs of real objects such as in the Look-Alikes books by Joan Steiner, I can’t recall ever seeing that aspect of artwork mentioned quite like that. The reviewer may mean that the artwork is not rendered with a 3D look as in the movie Toy Story. With a print review no discussion is possible, but I did wonder about it. It’s like saying the book’s pages are trimmed at 90 degree angles... aren’t they usually?

There have been other instances of questionable meanings over the years, but not an infinite number, thankfully. While some people get upset when others don’t agree with their definitions, I find such discussion to be useful and necessary... how else can people communicate clearly except by fine tuning their understanding of what is meant by a given word? In our family, we run to the dictionary as needed (or use Google in a pinch.) And though there is usually room for debate, we mustn’t go as far as Humpty Dumpty who declared, “When I use a word...it means just what I choose it to mean— neither more nor less.”

Instead, (and with thanks to my husband Andy) it seems fitting to close with Buzz Lightyear’s immortal words:
To Infinity and Beyond!

Creative Nonfiction at Its Best...

...and more or less in tune with 4th of July partying.

Pickers of nits may have a tricky time classifying the gorgeous new picture book about our emblem of freedom-- Lady Liberty: A Biography. What is noted author Doreen Rappaport doing with these free-verse poems, in the various voices of all who had a hand in creating the Statue of Liberty? The first poem is autobiographical, describing her Latvian grandfather seeing the statue for the first time. Then, from French sculptor Auguste Bartholdi to others famous and not so famous, the voices tell a true story-- how the statue was conceived and built and what it’s meant to immigrants ever since. Here is the voice of poet Emma Lazarus: “Soon when people arrive in the New World,/they will be welcomed/by a caring, powerful woman,” Rappaport writes, segueing into Lazarus’s own invocation: “Give me your tired, your poor,/Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…” Besides being inspirational, the poems are obviously the fruit of mountains of research, and meanwhile Rappaport has collected every possible fact you could want to know into the back matter. Somber paintings by Matt Tavares swoop from unusual angles to heighten the drama. The format is large and inviting, with a “ta-da” fold-up page unveiling the completed Lady in all her magnificence. This is history, biography, and a tribute evoking genuine emotion-- all at the same time. I would call it seriously creative nonfiction (Candlewick, ages 5-8).

For older readers, the title alone-- King George: What Was His Problem?—may result in kids grabbing this book. The additional line of “Everything Your Schoolbooks Didn't Tell You About the American Revolution”—sounds mighty cool. Steve Sheinkin, the author of textbooks even he thinks of as tedious, has here amassed all the good stuff he claims his prim textbook editors wouldn’t allow him to use. That makes us the beneficiary of a clear, witty, fast-paced account that reads like a novel, even to the point of including some surprisingly clever dialog. Ben Franklin and grumpy John Adams, forced to share a bed one night, argue over whether the window should be open or closed. “I believe you are not acquainted with my theory of colds,” begins Franklin, lulling angry Adams into submission: “I was so much amused that I soon fell asleep.” Often one battle after another, this account might be more blow-by-blow than some kids will persist with (actually, this works well as a primer for adults). But it’s all good, important stuff that kids should know. The extensive back matter includes a “What Ever Happened to…” wrap-up of all the famous names—and a list of sources for every line of that dialog. Tim Robinson pops up with occasional sprightly black and white drawings (Roaring Brook, ages 10-14).

Guess what—I had other books I was going to include, but upon closer look, they have flaws. The children’s book world is so tiny (really) that I hate wasting space on negative reviews—even if it’s the infinite space of the Internet.

But here’s a terrific picture book biography, as tenuous as its connection to July 4th might seem-- Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman. Possibly the most famous American cultural icon ever, Superman was born during a tough time in this country’s history. Seventy years ago, in 1938, you were either still suffering from the Great Depression or worried sick about the upcoming world war. To the rescue came two super-nerdy teens from Cleveland (who many a sensitive kid will identify with). They responded to trauma by inventing the world’s first superhero. Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster persisted through years of rejection and later bad treatment from their publishers, searching for truth and justice as they created comic books that boosted American morale. Marc Tyler Nobleman tells his story swiftly, focusing on key dramatic moments, with a detailed afterword showing his intensive research. The stylish illustrations, in an appropriately retro palette, are by Ross Macdonald (Knopf, ages 7-10).

And in the realm of self-promotion, I have a one-page piece in the upcoming Our White House: Looking In, Looking Out. It keeps company with 107 other contributors-- authors (from Katherine Paterson to Kate DiCamillo to Jon Scieszka), illustrators (from Leo and Diane Dillon to Peter Sis to Brian Selznick), and famous folks (from Charles Dickens and Walt Whitman to Richard Nixon and Dick Cheney). At 242 well-designed pages, this anthology is the mother of all tributes to American history, a multi-faceted jewel for family sharing and endless uses in the classroom (to be developed on its companion website ). A few poems and short stories and plays sprinkle the mix, but mostly this is a nonfiction account of history as it affected our White House—the emphasis on our—and a call to learn more about being an American citizen (Candlewick, ages 8 and up).

"Can Informational Books Be Sexy?"

Sorry, I must gush about our first Fartiste signing, a giddy event at IRA in Atlanta where Paul and I signed books as fast as we could. (I would describe the sensation as like being on drugs, but you would think I’m obsessed, per April 14.) I had talked up the book at the two sessions I spoke at, but most people in line had simply seen the title in the IRA program and had to have it. Yep-- all the laughing teachers and librarians were buying the book for males, a significant percent for their reluctant readers, and another major percent as gifts for husbands... fathers...even grandpas. Paul and I got even fizzier when we learned on site of our first review-- a star from Kirkus in its kindest mode: “Put that tired copy of Walter the Farting Dog away: This long-overdue tribute to Le Petomane, ‘the man who made his pants dance,’ is a total blast.”


OK, on to hot-off-the-press books by other people, such as The Day the World Exploded. What kid could resist such a title? The subtitle explains all-- The Earthshaking Catastrophe at Krakatoa. It was the most violent explosion ever recorded, destroying the Indonesian island of Krakatoa in 1883. Followed by a tsunami that killed at least 36,00, it became known as the "mother" of all natural disasters. The explosion caused 13 percent of the earth's surface to vibrate, and it actually changed the way people thought about the world. Edvard Munch, to take but one example, was inspired to paint The Scream. This blend of history (of all sorts of things), science (of all kinds), and insights about the meaning of life goes down easy. In full color, it's even easy to visualize, with maps, diagrams, archival photos and etchings, plus dramatic new drawings by Jason Chin. Wherever possible, author Simon Winchester and his adapter Dwight Jon Zimmerman pull in info relevant to today; a second edition will probably mention that Krakatoa is not far from the ongoing disaster in Myanmar. A splendid example of this trend of downsizing popular adult books (in this case, Winchester's Krakatoa) into ones worthy of kids (HarperCollins, ages 10-14).


Am I the only one who’s a sucker for self-help books pitched at younger readers? When they’re done well, of course, as in the series of “What-to-Do Guides for Kids.” The newest, by child psychologist Dawn Huebner, is What to Do When You Dread Your Bed, a clever title subtitled A Kid's Guide to Overcoming Problems with Sleep. I would imagine that this 96-page paperback would be particularly handy for therapists and concerned parents (who are addressed in the introduction). But with its language, concepts, and art (cartoony illustrations by Bonnie Matthews) it's actually aimed straight at kids: "Wouldn't it be great if you could climb into bed, snuggle under your covers, close your eyes, and fall asleep without any fuss or fear?" And if you can't? You're not alone. Insomnia, nightmares, fear of the dark, crawling into bed with your parents-- such problems affect one of every three children, according to the author. So here is a workbook full of advice and practical techniques to improve sleeping skills-- an honest, head-on approach to one of life's frustrations (Magination Press/American Psychological Association, ages 9-12).


The Mysterious Universe-- yet another tempting title, and what a fascinating science book this is. Subtitled Supernovae, Dark Energy, and Black Holes, this is the newest in the well-received “Scientists in the Field” series. Focusing on the work of astronomy professor Alex Filippenko, who uses the most powerful telescopes ever, this enlightens us on discoveries that are being made right now about the big bang, our expanding universe, time travel, spiraling galaxies, dark matter, not to mention how exciting it can be to be a scientist. Ellen Jackson writes clear, high-interest text (though in some unfortunately tiny fonts, not her fault), with stark black backgrounds making NASA's and Nic Bishop's photos even more dramatic. Includes a thorough glossary for those of us not up on these ultra-mysterious matters (Houghton Mifflin, ages 9-12).




For the very young and the musically inclined (the same thing, really), Before John Was a Jazz Giant: A Song of John Coltrane makes a lovely, lyrical tribute. Coltrane wasn't born knowing how to create innovative jazz with his sax. His childhood was all about listening, lots of listening, to the sounds a child growing up in the South in the 1930s might have heard-- bones knocking around in a grandma's pot, the rhythms of a grandpa's sermons, birds singing, steam engines whistling, big bands on the radio. Carole Boston Weatherford shapes the sounds into a flowing story, while Sean Qualls accompanies her with airy, mixed-media illustrations. A detailed Author's Note gives a full biography and a list of CDs to listen to.

As for today’s outrageous title above and what on earth “sexy” could have to do with the world of children’s books, I refer you to The Craft & Business Of Writing: Essential Tools For Writing Success (Writers Digest Books). It's a brand-new tome that reprints an old article of mine with this question as its title and an elaborate case for an affirmative answer: After you swap out "sexy" for "stimulating," nonfiction clearly rules-- for readers and writers.

New Books, Bestselling and Otherwise

Quick, can you name a nonfiction book on the BookSense “Children’s Interest” bestseller list? Oddly enough, there have been several of them over the past few weeks, but the big sensation is a memoir called Tweak: Growing Up on Methamphetamines, a true story as lived and told by Nic Sheff. How low can he sink? Think as low as you can go. Not exactly the nicey-nice topics we usually blab about in our field, and this is definitely YA, not for children. Plus, in its explicit and accurate (I asked around) depiction of how crystal meth and heroin will wreck your life, this has flaws. Repetitious (way TMI), self-indulgent, writing that is raw and not "tight" (in either the literary or the kid-slang sense), and most of all a dearth of insight: despite the title, there's not much upward motion here. Some experts say that mental development ceases when a person becomes an addict, in which case Sheff-- who started at age 11-- may be stuck at an age earlier than his biological one (early twenties). Still, some kids will find this hard to put down—it’s, er, addictive—and if it leads any of them to think twice about making disastrous choices, the book is worthy of its bestsellerdom (Simon & Schuster, 2008, definitely ages 12 and up.)

For bad choices considerably easier to talk about, The Book of Time Outs is a diabolically clever concept book. Author/artist Deb Lucke suavely subtitles it A Mostly True History of the World's Biggest Troublemakers. Wry text and expressive portraits feature those who were greedy (Napoleon), untruthful (Columbus), unwashed (Queen Isabella), awful to their siblings (Cleopatra), and ten more guys and gals with flaws. A unique way of looking at world history, an empathetic gift for a child who's just misbehaved (with messages like "you're not the first to have a time out," "you're not the worst," and "actions have consequences"), and irresistible to just about anyone (Simon & Schuster, 2008, ages 4-8).

Lots o’ green books sprouting all of a sudden. One of the most interesting is How We Know What We Know About Our Changing Climate. This is actually a children's version of a university-press tome by photojournalist Gary Braasch, Earth Under Fire: How Global Warming Is Changing the World. Now it has a text by Lynne Cherry (well-known for The Great Kapok Tree and other environmental books), and it's subtitled Scientists and Kids Explore Global Warming. What are butterflies, birds, flowers--not to mention a lot of super-smart people--trying to tell us? The world is starting to sizzle, and the clues are literally everywhere. In motivating readers (especially budding scientists) to save the planet, Cherry goes into substantial detail on the latest data, how researchers work, and what kids can do, with an unusually thorough section on further resources. Braasch contributes his stunning photos, wisely including kids in scenes as often as possible. Worthy of bestsellerdom, the ultimate in the recent trend of taking adult projects and distilling them for younger readers (Dawn Publications, 2008, ages 10-14).

You don’t even have to like animals to find Sisters & Brothers: Sibling Relationships in the Animal World a treat. Heck, you don't have to be a kid. This is one juicy topic. I mean, painless intro to zoology. Which creatures have stepsiblings? (Catfish.) Which ones have only sisters? (New Mexico whiptail lizards.) Which ones eat each other? (Black widow spiders.) Which brothers' fights escalate so terribly that one them simply has to leave? (Grizzly bears.) Sorry, it's hard to stop with the examples, and all of them are well-grounded here in simple scientific language, with pages of animal facts at the end. Score a winner for Robin Page and I.N.K.’s own Steve Jenkins, with his distinctive cut-paper collages, amusingly captioned, set against oceans of white space (Houghton Mifflin, 2008, ages 4-8).

You might think Imagine a Dragon would be collection of fluffy poems going nowhere special, but you’d be wrong. Instead, esteemed science writer Laurence Pringle has compiled a treasury of true stuff about this beast, illustrious but wholly imaginary. Starting with the earliest rumors in China, Egypt, and present-day Iraq, a dragon worked nicely as an explanation for natural disasters, scientific phenomena, anything that seemed scary. Pringle zooms around the globe to glean the primo dragon facts and legends, while lush paintings in acrylic by Eujin Kim Neilan make the pages swirl. Good example of a handsome nonfiction picture book, and an appealing choice for kids shifting out of fairy tales (Boyds Mills, 2008, ages 7-9).

No Fartistic news this time… come back next month. Meanwhile, hope to see you at TLA or IRA.

1 Idea…Many Versions…1 Book

My book for Spring of 2008 has a simple premise—how life would change if math and numbers were suddenly gone. What if you couldn't count, or add, or measure, or tell time…? Here’s a preview of Missing Math: A Number Mystery.



We usually see books only when they're in their pristine final form, printed in living color on coated paper (in the case of picture books, anyway.) This post will give a sense of the behind-the scenes gyrations, which took longer than usual in this case.

Version #1: The Number Cruncher was a picture book written in verse. I still like the play on words of the title. The main character ran around eating any number he saw. Some sort of monster or alien, here’s what he looked like:



The dummy is undated and my memory inexact, but it’s before I went digital for illustration around 1997 so it’s over ten years old. There are some handwritten notes, such as maybe he should be more of a robot-like character. I didn't realize it until now, but the 25 m.p.h. speed limit sign somehow endured through all the versions to appear in Missing Math. Although the specific reason this version was rejected has faded, in retrospect, consuming a few numbers here and there doesn't have enough impact.

Version #2: No More Math? Still a picture book, it had become an updated three wishes story in prose about a boy who encounters a robot alien who has crash-landed. It starts out:

A robot alien! And a spaceship! The whole scene was a shocker, but I had my sneakers on in case I had to make a quick getaway. There was nothing to worry about, because this guy could barely find the tool box, not to mention a ray gun.

In return for his help, the robot offers to grant the boy three wishes, and the plot lumbers on. In rereading this, it’s so long-winded I can see why my editor suggested I try…

Version #3: The Day Math Disappeared, a chapter book version. The manuscript is dated 2001:

…Don’t ask me where he came from, I didn’t find out. It is a good question, though. Some secret government project? Anyway, once he decided I wasn’t going to dismantle him or anything, he went back to working on the ship or plane, or whatever. He called it his “ziptek,” so we can just stick with that.

My nephew Caleb read it and liked it, even if my editor ended up giving the thumbs down on it. The concept was probably too young for a chapter book.

Version #4: When Math Took a Vacation is a picture book again, with a main character named “Math.” He supervises the numbers who cheerfully perform their jobs on rulers, mailboxes, license plates, and so on. That is, until Math takes a well-deserved vacation—while the boss is away, the numbers play and havoc ensues. Another rejection, which wasn’t too surprising at this point. Here are some of the number characters at work before they run off to sip sodas at the seashore, or whatever they were doing:



Version #5: The Number Cruncher, is dated 2005 and told in first person from the viewpoint of a little boy:

Somebody ATE my money last night!
And Something bit my shirt,
my notebook got nibbled,
my homework has holes,
and my books are dripping with drool… YUCK!
Something totally WEIRD is going on.

It’s in sort of a non-rhyming poetic format, which may be why my editor suggested I try it in rhyming verse. Verse? I hadn’t written anything in rhyme since 1990. Sure, why not? That ended up being the manuscript for Missing Math. It has an all-animal cast, some nonsensical angles such as not even being able to THINK of a number, and a weird machine that is being used to steal the numbers for some unknown purpose. Fortunately, there is a persistent cat detective who is determined to solve the mystery of the missing math. You can see him on my site.

So why did I persevere in the effort to get this notion into book form? Despite the setbacks, I stayed in love with the the idea of making math vanish as a way to help kids perceive how integral it is to everyday life. But credit must also go to my editor Margery Cuyler who never forgot about it for all those years, and kept asking to see the “no math” idea in some new form. Her interest motivated me to rethink it. Missing Math: A Number Mystery gets right to the point and shows how completely things fall apart. But, it would’ve been nice if it had come together just a tad more quickly!

If anyone would like more info about how I made the video preview for Missing Math, please check out The Dust of Everyday Life blog, which gives an overview of the software used. The post is titled Making a Book Preview (Trailer). Other people there have also written about making book trailers.

Cool New Books and the Fartiste, Part 2

I’ve had a vivid, sometimes "Right on!" response to each of the posts here so far. But lest this blog get incestuous…. On with what's new in nonfiction.

I hate to tangle with the mighty Library of Congress, which classifies How I Learned Geography as fiction. But Uri Shulevitz's gem of a true story from his childhood sure reads like nonfiction to me. It's in the serious vein of last year's much-lauded masterpiece from Peter Sis, The Wall: Growing Up Behind the Iron Curtain, only more at a young child's level. In 32 pages, with just a few lines of text on each, 4- or 5-year-old Uri is forced to flee wartime Poland with his family. Since they are starving, Uri is "furious" at his father for one day bringing home from the marketplace a large map instead of bread. Then, as Uri studies the map, even drawing it when he has the chance-- his imagination takes flight, and it's the birth of an artist. Moving and beautiful, with the stark white borders around each watercolor painting diminishing as Uri is able to transcend his physical misery and travel around the globe in his mind. Expanding his horizons is what allows him to survive. The Author's Note includes his first drawing to win a prize-- a scene from that marketplace (Farrar Straus, 2008, ages 4-8).

For suspense that's almost nail-biting, check out this heroic animal story-- Pale Male: Citizen Hawk of New York City. Is Pale Male the only wild hawk with his own website? Certainly he's the only one with so many children's books about him. In this, the third, Janet Schulman narrates with lots of personality the whole true tale. The flap copy mentions that she wrote it specifically for artist Meilo So, whose sprightly, soft-focus watercolors are indeed an attention-grabbing fit. One day in 1991 a red-tailed hawk with a four-foot wingspan soared into New York's Central Park. To avid bird-watchers' delight, Pale Male and his series of mates nested in various locations, triumphing over their own disorientation, natural enemies like crows, and human enemies at the fancy addresses they favored. Will these wild creatures get used to city life and become resourceful New Yorkers at last? Will their chicks learn to fly without smashing into cement? Will they all survive President Bush's relaxation of the Migratory Bird Treaty (Knopf, 2008, ages 6-12)?

For utter, nearly wordless simplicity, tune into Jukebox. This French import is sort of informational-- celebrating and instantly characterizing every style of music you can think of, from disco to opera, country to hip hop. But mostly it's a really witty romp. Down at the local bistro, a magical machine transforms its listeners into the embodiment of the music they choose: a Goth girl goes gothic, three chums take up choral music, even the bistro's mice get caught up. Creative teachers could have a blast using this to show the power of music, as well as its diversity. The charming concept and stylized, poster-like illustrations are by David Merveille (Kane/Miller, American edition 2008, all ages).

What other 2008 nonfiction titles look cool to you???

Meanwhile, picking up the saga of Fartiste from my last post, at least one blogger has delivered a toot-- Lori Calabrese (hint: scroll down--it's not Harvesting Hope: The Story of Cesar Chavez). And my favorite mag has given it an award already! OK, you can't exactly call "Title Most Likely to Make Middle-Grade Boys Guffaw and Parents Groan" a real award, and also we didn't exactly win, we tied with a book that sounds gross and not in a classy way. But Paul and I will take what we can get.

And moving from the ridiculous to the slightly more important… Go Hillary!

Certain Remarkable Women, and One Fartiste

Fascinating information, distilled into age-appropriate language, fully synthesized by a warm and witty authorial presence, narrated in a compelling voice… illustrated/visualized with flair… labored over by smart editors, copyeditors, fact-checkers, and designers….

Can a children’s nonfiction book be a work of art, a hallmark of civilization, a gem among gems, a---- OK, OK, I’m biased. But is it possible that we live in a golden age for children’s nonfiction books? Or have I gone over the edge?

Let’s consider some juicy titles so far in 2008.

Newcomer (to children’s books) Philip Dray tackles the harrowing subject of lynching in Yours for Justice, Ida B. Wells: The Daring Life of a Crusading Journalist. The executions of black citizens, completely outside the law, began almost as soon as the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, reached a peak of one almost every other day, and didn’t end until the 1950s. Sensibly, Dray clothes his topic within a biography of one courageous person, Ida B. Wells. She was born a slave in 1862, started teaching school at 16, and became a noted journalist. Publishing articles, giving speeches, often at great personal risk, she used her fame to shed light on the horrors of lynching, becoming the most effective crusader against it. The reader comes to know Wells in full detail, with six pages of solid information in the back matter for extra value. Stephen Alcorn’s stylized watercolors swirl with Wells’s energy and anger—just look at the cover with page after page radiating from her rising figure. Recent events in the news make this book a must-have for schools (Peachtree Publishers, 2008, ages 10-14).

Former mighty librarian Julie Cummins flexes her mighty research muscles in Women Daredevils: Thrills, Chills, and Frills. Male daredevils are all over the place, ho hum. But have you ever heard of May Wirth (billed as the Greatest Bareback Rider Who Ever Lived), Zazel (known as the Human Cannonball), Annie Edson Taylor (first person to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel), or Mabel Stark (“the world’s greatest tiger tamer and trainer”)? I haven’t, nor of any of the fourteen action-loving performers in this book. Their feats were all the more astonishing for taking place between 1880 to 1929, an era when women were supposed to sit still and not engage in sports, much less extreme ones. Cummins delves into her daredevils’ exploits, their motives, what they did in their off hours, and what else is known about their lives. A great gift for athletic kids, and a real contribution to women’s history, with Cheryl Harness’s illustrations leaping ecstatically off the page (Dutton, 2008, ages 8-12).

Befitting its rowdy subject, both text and art simply sizzle in What to Do About Alice: How Alice Roosevelt Broke the Rules, Charmed the World, and Drove Her Father Teddy Crazy!. Teddy would be Theodore, who famously moaned, “I can be president of the United States, or I can control Alice. I cannot possibly do both.” Alice liked to call her rambunctious style of living “eating up the world,” and it frequently got her in trouble at a time when proper young ladies had tiny appetites. Besides learning about one unusual woman, history-lovers will appreciate that the reader learns a lot about the President, his election to office in 1901 after Alice turned 17, and how and why she boosted his popularity. Barbara Kerley’s spirited storytelling skills are matched with newcomer Edwin Fotheringham’s ingenious depictions of one of the biggest celebrities of her day. Though we believed her dead since 1980, Alice strikes again! (Scholastic, 2008, ages 4-8).

You want more recommendations? I got plenty. What hot books have YOU noticed so far this year?

Finally—and for a book not about a woman and really silly—coming your way is my next book, called Fartiste.
It’s a biography of a unique performance artist who had audiences literally fainting with laughter at Paris’s Moulin Rouge in the late 1800s. Joseph Pujol perfected “the art of the fart” by training his, er, muscles to mimic sound effects, tunes, stories. No, I’m not kidding, and yes, it’s all true. If you think this is gross, blame my husband, illustrator Paul Brewer, collector of extremes of information, amidst which he discovered Pujol, little-known now but in his day the most famous performer in the world. We co-wrote the story in verse, passing the manuscript back and forth to tweak the humor to its max. It’s being published by the brave souls at Simon & Schuster this June, with illustrations by Boris Kulikov that somehow quadruple the fun.

We think the book will have kids rolling on the floor. But what will the grown-ups say—the reviewers, teachers, librarians? Paul and I are on pins and needles (not the best image to associate with our promo item--whoopee cushions). Have we seriously gone over the edge?

Note: The links are to oh-so-convenient Amazon, but for actual purchases your local independent bookstore is the best friend a children’s nonfiction writer could have. I apologize for the lack of graphics, but just getting the links to Amazon in here nearly killed me.