Hanging Out with Biographers

What do a bunch of biographers talk about when they get together? I found out last month when the Biographers International Organization--aka BIO, of course--held its second annual conference at the National Press Club in Washington, D.C. On its website, BIO is described as "the first-ever international organization to represent the everyday interests of practicing biographers: those who’ve published the stories of real lives, and those working on biographies – in every medium, from print to film." My friend Catherine Reef, author of the wonderful Jane Austen: A Life Revealed, had invited me to be on a panel with her about writing biographies for young adults. Mary Bowman-Kruhm, author of The Leakeys: A Biography, completed our trio.

About 30 people showed up for our presentation, a pretty good turnout. (I always like it when the audience outnumbers the panelists.) They were a serious, note-taking bunch, which unnerved me a little until I told myself to think of them as 10-year-olds, my favorite audience. When I shared that with them, most of them smiled. "But I'm not talking down to you," I said, and then commented that good nonfiction books for children don't talk down to readers, either.

Later that day, while I was waiting in line for the restroom, a woman noticed my panelist badge and asked which panel I was on. "Oh, my friend went to that one and told me it was really interesting," she said. Just as I was beginning to preen, she added, "My friend said that writing for kids sounds so much easier than writing for adults that she wants to give it a try." Oh really? I started to bristle, then relaxed. One of our jobs as nonfiction writers for kids is to make complex subjects understandable. Obviously my co-panelists and I had succeeded in making our craft seem accessible. I smiled as sweetly as I could and said her friend should definitely give it a try. And I meant it. Let her learn how easy it is to paint a rich portrait of a human life in only 20,000 words, or in the case of my books, a mere 8,000. Heck, let her try writing a picture book biography!

To be fair, I don't think the woman in line with me was trying to sound condescending. And most of the other biographers I met were intrigued and genuinely interested in my work when I told them I write for children. It was a terrific conference, and I only wish I had had the opportunity to attend more workshops. Among the offerings: Dealing with Black Holes in Your Subject's Life; The Role for Fiction in Biography; How to Organize Your Research; Can I Quote That? Dealing with Copyright, Fair Use, Permission; The Art of Interviewing; Using Technology in Research; and Turning Research into Narrative. The keynote speaker at the luncheon was Robert Caro, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner for biography, who spoke about the power of place in biography.

The 2012 BIO conference will be in Los Angeles. Think about it. And in the meantime I'll leave you with these words from Cathy Reef's excellent talk: "A biography written at any level is so much more than a collection of facts about an individual. It is a work of literature, a portrait in words."

GOOD JOB!

Very late last night I was reading some recent posts on INK trying to jog my brain and pry loose an idea for my scheduled blog. Then it hit me! It was so easy to notice that not only do INK’s writers work incredibly hard to unearth the material in their books, but they are incredibly lucky too. This job is fun.

One of the reasons that I was writing this piece so late in the game is a case in point. At 7:00 last night, INK bloggers Dorothy Hinshaw Patent out in Missoula Montana, Vicki Cobb up in White Plains NY, and yours truly from Fairfax Station VA were having some fun by doing a live Computerside Chat via SetFocus. Entitled “Wild Women at Work,” the idea was to let viewers from multiple computers all over creation tune in to see us talk about the most exciting parts of our job; we wanted to discuss a sampling of the adventures we’ve had while ferreting out juicy facts for our books.

Vicki was the moderator, and Dorothy and I were the “wild women” who get to travel all over the planet digging up just the right fodder for our true tales. Between the two of us, we’ve done such things as sail the seas through the Bermuda Triangle, photograph wild elephants and lions from mere inches away, seek out polar bears with snowshoes for feet and hummingbirds wearing white bedroom slippers, and gain a coveted entry to the famous Lascaux Caves in France. And that’s just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. What a deal! (Besides, these are business trips too, which are sometimes tax deductible.)

Dorothy and I also talked a lot about mining original source material, and I see from Steve Sheinkin’s blog about detective work that we must share the same brain. Ever since 1997, I’ve been calling myself a detective too - or even a spy who snoops around looking for clues. Well, clues run rampant in original source material, and the colorful language and stories we’ve found are to die for. Of course in my case, this is a very safe kind of sleuthing, since all the people I’ve been spying on are stone cold dead in the market and have been for hundreds of years.

The fun continues. I get to do all the artwork in my books, and who wouldn’t love to do that at some point in their life? Then there’s Alex Siy. Check out her first INK blog from last Thursday to see what her life is about. Or read about the excitement in Karen Romano Young’s barn on Memorial Day.

This type of fun in the real world has led directly to some of the most amazing nonfiction books kids could ever wish for. So here’s hoping that the adventures these authors undertook on behalf of writing their true tales will spill over into the lives of a few kids who read our books. Maybe they will become the writers of the future. Or the artists. Or the scientists. Or the thinkers and dreamers and inventors and adventurers. Anyway, you get the picture.

Pleasures of Homework

“Some days, I’m really more of a reader than a writer,” I told kids at a recent school visit. “I sit in libraries all day and read and take notes.”

A few kids appeared to cringe. One raised his hand and said, “So, um… you do homework for a living?”

After everyone was done laughing at my expense, I explained that I think of it more as detective work. “Okay,” I said, “maybe a nerdy kind of detective work, but still… My job is to find stories, and I read books to look for clues, follow leads, gather evidence.”

That won a few kids over, at least. But the thing is, it’s really true. And to me, those days spent following sources, never knowing where they’ll lead, are some of the most rewarding days—even when they don’t result in “useful” details or book ideas. Recently, at a used bookstore, I stumbled upon a thick volume from 1895 called Darkness and Daylight in New York, With Hundreds of Thrilling Anecdotes and Incidents, Sketches of Life and Character (and the subtitle goes on for four more lines). In the book's first section, a reformer and relief worker named Helen Campbell describes her work with New York City’s poorest. The details are vivid and shocking, and the text offers a wealth of urban street slang. At one point Campbell lists the names of homeless newsies she’s met, including Yaller, King of Bums, Snitcher, Snoddy, Kelly the Rake, Slobbery Jack, and King of Crapshooters.

I can’t begin to describe the richness of this source, so I’ll just tell one story. One day, at a charity hospital, Campbell met Jack, a boy of about eleven with “grey eyes, large and full of expression,” and a body stunted by hunger. Lying flat on his back, wrapped in splints and bandages, he told Campbell his story.

Late one rainy night, maybe a year before, he’d returned to his usual sleeping spot by the river. “I allus liked it along the docks,” he said. “You could often pick up oranges an’ bananas, an’ many a time I’ve licked molasses off the barrels.” That night another kid was curled up in Jack’s crate. “He wasn’t bigger’n a rat much,” Jack said. The kid, Buster, quickly told his tale of beatings and abandonment. “He was ‘most naked an’ hungry,” Jack said, “an’ when he dried up his eyes after a good a cry, I says to him, ‘We’ll go hunks, an’ whatever I have you shall have the same.’”

From then on, they were partners. They worked selling papers and shining shoes, but the lure of better money tempted Buster into daybreak work. “You don’t know what a Daybreak Boy is?” Jack asked Campbell. “It’s a whole gang what steals from small craft below Hell Gate, an’ sell their stealins for whatever they get, which is mostly nothing.” Jack tried to talk Buster out of stealing, but with no luck. “He liked the fun of it, an’ he was so little he could sneak in anywheres an’ he got to be a champion daybreak, an’ that tickled him.”

All the while Jack kept working, saving pennies toward the dream of moving west, and taking Buster with him. “I was awful worried over Buster,” Jack said. “I know’d if he could only get away he’d do well enough.” Jack followed rumors about his friend, and soon heard he was in hiding from the cops. Jack tracked Buster to a Lower East Side tenement, and tried to convince him to head west before it was too late. “He’d about promised me he’d do as I wanted when the woman in the next room gave the alarm.”

As the police charged up the tenement stairs, Jack and Buster climbed to the roof and ran to the building’s edge. Buster turned to Jack. “You meant to give me away, did you? Damn you!” Before Jack could deny it, Buster pushed him. Jack fell four floors to the ally below.

“He didn’t mean it,” Jack told Helen Campbell from his hospital bed. “And he got away, an’ so I don’t care, an’ he sent me word the other day that when I got well he’d go west or anywhere I wanted. So you see it’s come out pretty good. I’m so tired. I think I’m goin’ to sleep.”

Campbell said goodbye and left. A week later she got a note from a hospital nurse. Jack was dead. He'd had left a scrap of paper for Campbell, which was enclosed in the note. Campbell opened the scrap. On the paper, in shaky letters, were the words: “Please find Buster.”

Finding stories like that—that’s why I do homework for a living.

More on Henrietta Lacks

Two days ago, Vicki Cobb used Rebecca Skloot’s book, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, as the jumping-off point for a post on how authors and publishers determine a book’s length, in the process deciding how detailed a story they will tell. Before we leave the topic of Skloot’s book, I want to add my two cents. I’ve just finished reading it—actually, listening to it—and my overriding reaction is that it just might be the perfect work of nonfiction. It combines dogged reporting, extraordinary interviews, and masterful descriptions of scientific phenomena and legal and ethical issues that make complex content accessible to all.

Skloot’s book is at once a compelling detective story, an unforgettable science lesson, and perhaps the best portrait of an African-American family since Alex Haley’s Roots. Her storytelling style is reminiscent of Fannie Flagg’s in Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café, a book she says she used as a reference, with shifts between clearly labeled time periods that add perspective and richness to the tale. In a book about science, what one takes away first and foremost is the humanity of people whose lives were impacted after scientists at Johns Hopkins University took malignant cells from Henrietta Lacks, who died of cervical cancer 60 years ago at age 31.

I am more than a little surprised that a book on cell biology has affected me in this way. Science isn’t exactly my strong suit. Back in the early 1990s, when I was editorial director of the math and science magazines at Scholastic, my science editors used to throw their hands up in frustration as they tried to drum into me the difference between a solar and a lunar eclipse. But in Skloot’s book, understanding the science is a means to understanding the history of the Lacks family, and Skloot explains complex concepts such as genetic research and the life cycle of a cell so well that it’s not an impediment for science-phobes like me. She gives just the right amount of detail so the technical information doesn’t interfere with the storytelling.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks was Skloot’s first book, and her passion for her subject and dogged determination to get the story right make me think back to my work on my first book, A Whole New Ball Game. An author “owns” her first book differently than she owns her subsequent ones, when editors have imposed deadlines and critics and readers have expectations based on previous work. Skloot spent more than a decade pursuing the story of Henrietta and the HeLa cells. (At the time, cell lines were designated with the beginning two letters of the donor’s first and last names.) She did odd jobs and used credit cards and student loans to stay afloat and pay for scores of trips to see scientists, doctors, and members of the Lacks family. She followed her own timeline, which was dictated by the development of her research rather than by a date in a book contract.

As Vicki mentioned, Skloot will bring out a Young Reader’s Edition of her book in 2012, co-written with Gregory Mone. Aimed at middle graders, it will be published by Knopf and will run 256 pages, about 100 fewer than the “adult” edition. I’m curious to compare the two books. Other than the sometimes graphic descriptions of physical and sexual abuse suffered by the Lacks children and the violent and promiscuous behavior of some characters, the original book seems appropriate for younger readers. Granted, as Vicki said, it runs a bit long, but I wonder what will be edited out.

There’s also an HBO film in the works, being co-produced by Oprah Winfrey and Alan Ball, creator of Six Feet Under and True Blood. I can’t wait to see it.

Are you a fan of Skloot's book? What do you expect will be different in the Young Reader's Edition?

Meet Alexandra Siy

Alexandra Siy is a new member and wonderful addition to the Ink Think Tank roster of Ink Thinkers and database contributors. She's on a mission to amaze and engage kids by taking a closer look at nature by using their own eyes. See for yourself.

Exploring Hidden Worlds

By Alexandra Siy

One of my earliest childhood memories is of a summer nature walk around a small pond near our home. The sound of frogs and songbirds, the smell of wildflowers and water, and a thousand shades of green are still alive within me—inspiration for my work as an author, photographer, and educator. Books, both fiction and nonfiction, can draw children into exciting and alien worlds—while helping them understand their own world. Ever since looking through a simple magnifying glass as a small child, I have been fascinated by the microscopic. Several of my books reveal the microscopic world, including my newest title BUG SHOTS: The Good, the Bad, and the Bugly. Illustrated with electron micrographs by my collaborator Dennis Kunkel, our books introduce children to the beautiful and fascinating microscopic worlds that are part of our every day lives. Yet I believe that books should be just part of a child’s relationship with the microscopic world, helping to form a context for real life experience.

Exploring hidden worlds with a child is both exciting and rewarding. It is also a simple and inexpensive activity that you can do again and again. The only equipment required is a small hand lens or jeweler’s loupe and your wide-open eyes. It is truly astonishing what is revealed while looking closely at everyday objects. Flower petals, blades of grass, a seashell, grains of sand, even the skin on your hand, become larger than life. Upon seeing things up close, a child’s mind is expanded and new ideas unfold.

The experience of looking closely is greatly enhanced by using the methods developed by “

The Private Eye.” This remarkable program is designed to “accelerate thinking skills, creativity, literacy and scientific literacy across subjects, K-16 through life, all levels.” I have used The Private Eye Guide to Developing the Interdisciplinary Mind as well as The Private Eye loupes and other materials with children of all ages. (Check out my review of some their products on geekmom.com.)
A few simple questions form the core of The Private Eye experience. While looking at a specimen through a magnifying loupe ask yourself: What else does it remind me of? What else does it look like? Why did it remind me of that? Why is it like that? The answers to the questions lead to analogies, comparisons, and metaphors forming material for creative writing, scientific discovery, inventions, problem solving, and more.

This summer spend some time outside with a child exploring hidden worlds. You may be surprised by what you discover about your world, and about yourself in the process.

“Less” Is the New “More?”

I’ve just finished reading Rebecca Skloot’s well-told story: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. In her introduction, she assures her readers that this is, indeed, a work of nonfiction—nothing is made up—which warmed my heart as an author who scrupulously sticks to documented and verifiable facts. It started me thinking about the difference between writing nonfiction for adults and writing nonfiction for children. Certainly, the subject matter of this story—the establishment of a line of human tissue culture cells from the cervical cancer of a poor black women, who died from her disease in 1951 at the tender age of 32, might not be considered appropriate for children (although I understand that a version for young people is in the works). But the most obvious difference between adult and children’s nonfiction is the length of the book— this one was almost 400 pages with no pictures to break up the text. Rebecca Skloot tells a comprehensive story, using techniques of novelists: detailed atmospherics, physical appearances of the characters along with their back stories, and foreshadowing of events to create narrative tension. Maybe it was a tad too comprehensive but I’m a good reader; I can take it.

It’s our job, as authors for children, to wade through enormous amounts of material, to curate the facts most pertinent to the story we want to tell, to figure out a structure for the story and to make the prose as lean and muscular as possible. This discipline makes us excellent writers for the uninitiated of all ages. (Best kept secret: If you want to learn something new, read a kid’s book on the subject.)

In an ideal world, the length of a book should be determined by the author, who would use exactly as many words needed to create a compelling narrative and not one word more. But print formats determine price and so we have constraints that dictate word count. In addition, I hear from a colleague who teaches children’s literature to current and future teachers, that often teachers reject certain children’s books they deem “too wordy” for today’s readers.. Obviously, that message is reaching publishers because I’m currently revising two books published about twenty years ago with the objective of cutting the text so that the redesigned books look less “text dense.” This is forcing me to rethink each sentence, rethink each concept and ruthlessly discard language that I agonized over so long ago. I don’t know yet if the new version will speak more clearly and powerfully than the old one but the effort is worth it if it keeps the books alive for another twenty years. And the shorter version just might be an improvement.

Yet, I have some questions about this. A long book with a page-turning story, whether it’s fiction or nonfiction, renders the incomparable experience of “curling up with a good book.” Kids discovered this experience with the Harry Potter books. Some might wonder: Can a work of nonfiction ever be a page-turning book you curl up with? (Yes, read the Immortal Life.......) On the other hand, many adult nonfiction books are over-stuffed (for my taste) with too much information. Is a true story more powerful when written shorter? When does a reader want to know a subject in depth? When is padding a book a self-indulgent ego trip by the author? In short (pardon the pun) what makes a subject or a story worthy enough to be book length? Is “less” truly the new “more?”

The decisions about these issues, as made by authors, are part of what distinguishes literature from ordinary writing.

The Snake on My Desk, and After That

I came out to the barn where I work at about ten o'clock this morning. So what if it's Memorial Day? Writers work when they need to, and I had two blog posts to write. Past the gorgeously blooming hibiscus plant that props open the door, up the stairs past my son's Hess trucks and a painting I did once of the moon, as it looked every day for a month, past color printouts of my work-in-progress, an illustrated book about my dives in the submarine Alvin... I hit the button on the radio, preset to WFUV, and I set my glass of water on my desk.

That's when a five-foot garter snake uncoiled itself from somewhere, scooted across my desk toward me (I leapt back. Duh.), slid down the front of my file cabinet, and skedaddled into the dark corner beside the desk, where it found safety amid two open canvas boxes of files.

Holy BATS. Hell's bells. Crikey! Why me, why this, why now? Lord, don't you know I'm BUSY?

Okay, okay. I have resources. My friend Tucker is nineteen, studies zoology, and is known for his extreme joy upon discovering a fer-de-lance snake in the boot of a bunkmate during a stay in Costa Rica. I knew Tucker would come over and get the snake out for me. But Tucker's mother tells me he is away for the weekend, saying sadly, "He'll be so sorry to miss this opportunity." Uh-huh.

I get my park ranger friend Noonie on the phone at her house in Pennsylvania. Noonie is famous among my family for having introduced them to several fine examples of snakes, including Harry, her Burmese python; a water snake at our swimming hole; and a couple of mating snakes that made beautiful music -- well, if you want that story I'm going to post it on The Doodling Desk under Good Little Snakes.

Noonie suggests I construct a barricade using bed sheets, planks. and blankets and, having created a channel for the snake to run along, begin to remove the files boxes and other stuff that is shielding the snake. Then I can just pick it up if it doesn't go in the right direction and take it out. "It's going to try to bite you, but just remember you're not small enough to fit inside its mouth." From the background, her partner Steve shouts, "Wear gloves!" All this is the kind of advice I find difficult to follow, and besides I have WORK TO DO, did I mention that? At last Noon admits that just leaving the snake behind the desk is definitely an option.

So I do, for now. Yes, I do have work to do, but this situation has presented me with a different approach to that work. The earlier idea for the blog post has gone straight out the window (where I wish the snake would also go) and an interest born of necessity has overcome it -- not just the necessity to feel comfortable in my work place, but a fascination with learning enough about this situation to write about it. Yes indeed -- step into my office! Digging around for individuals, advice, and information -- and then writing and drawing about it -- is what I love to do.

Next I'm on line looking for a regional wildlife center Tucker's mother mentioned, and before long I'm talking to Pete Reid, who actually works in publishing (he writes about the beer industry) and moonlights as a "naturalist by vocation." His wife, Dara Reid, is a wildlife biologist who directs Wildlife in Crisis in nearby Weston, Connecticut. Wildlife in Crisis was organized in this area in 1989 to assist with the situations that arise, as one has in my barn this morning, when people and animals live in proximity. They know what to do if an animal is hurt and needs rehabilitation, if baby birds fall out of their nest, or if a coyote takes up residence under your shed.

Pete knows about every animal that lives in our area, whether it's native or introduced, and how it's doing. It seems that Connecticut is seeing strong numbers of beavers (I saw one walking down the street recently), fisher cats, otters, coyotes, and many more. And snakes are doing dandy as well. My garter snake, a mild-mannered type, most likely came into the barn intentionally, says Pete, and does not need my help to get back out. "He's there probably because there are insects and crickets or something else attractive in the barn. He'll slither around and find a gap, going out the way he came in." In the meantime, Pete suggests I wear closed-toed shoes and keep a broom handy so I can sweep the snake out the door if I see it again.

Pete tells me some other snake stories, confirming the existence of the state's legendary copperheads -- of which I've heard many stories but seen no evidence -- and which have been a topic of heated debate among some of my friends. And he reassures me that the garter snake behind my desk is "just part of the natural order of things in the barn."

I hang up the phone, determined to be philosophical about my deskmate. By now I've been sitting here working in near proximity to a snake for some four hours, with nary a slither or other sign of life from the dark corner. I admit that my feet aren't on the ground; I've propped them up on the handles of my file cabinets. I'm kind of jumpy, too. But I've also learned a lot, done an interesting drawing (I'm going to try another snake another day, but for now here's what I've got, see above), talked to some great people, and heard about different approaches to the situation that started my day. Not bad for a day at the office.

Sweet! Interesting Nonfiction for Kids

Looking for a great interesting nonfiction topic for kids? Candy!

As I write this, I have candy on the brain. Today was spent wandering the aisles and aisles of treats at the Sweet and Snack Expo at McCormick Center in Chicago. So, going to have to make this short and sweet.

A few months ago, as I am wont to do, I had to check out what has been recently published for kids on the subject of candy. Here’s another category of nonfiction books for kids to get them to read more nonfiction. I mean, who wouldn’t want to read about candy?

Pop!: The Invention of Bubble Gum
By Meghan McCarthy (Author, Illustrator)
Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books  May 2010

The Mars Family: M & M Mars Candy Makers (Food Dudes)
by Joanne Mattern
Checkerboard Library Jan 2011

Candy bomber : the story of the Berlin Airlift's "Chocolate Pilot"
by Michael O.Tunnell
Charlesbridge 2010

Candyfreak: A Journey through the Chocolate Underbelly of America
By Steve Almond
Harvest Books April 2005
One of my favorite books. A perfect YA nonfiction read.

Sweet! : the delicious story of candy
By Ann Love
Tundra Books 2007









I feel that many reading this are coveting their swag from Book Expo in New York this week, but check out my sweet sweet haul from the Sweet and Snack Expo.

Biographies Galore: Doing My Homework

I’m teaching a children’s writing workshop this quarter at UCLA Extension, where I cover all genres and all elements of story, give massive reading assignments as well as writing exercises, writing their stories, and critiquing their classmates.

Sidebar: In the past I used a textbook – Anatasia Suen’s terrific Picture Writing, which is now, sadly, out of print. It is the only one I’ve found that gives equal time to writing fiction and nonfiction. (Most textbooks give one chapter to nonfiction). Suen relates every topic and genre – plot, character, picture books, middle grade, etc – to both f and nf. Now I don’t use a textbook, but rely on my lectures and web essays, including some from INK. Even though nearly all of my students write fiction, I still discuss nf when talking about each genre (pb, early readers, middle grade, etc.)

Rather than the obligatory one class, I devote two weeks just to nonfiction, including one on biography. Students choose a person and read three biographies of him or her – picture book, middle grade, and YA – then discuss how authors, illustrators, and book designers treat the subject differently.

Prompted by two new picture book biographies on Jane Goodal, I decided to do this assignment myself. She is a perfect subject for children: pioneering woman scientist, animal lover, environmental activist. The LA Public Library lists fifteen children’s biographies of Goodall going back to 1976, but no picture book biographies.

Me…Jane, written and illustrated by Patrick McDonnell (Little, Brown: 2011) is for younger children and beginning readers. It describes Jane as a child, bonded to Jubliee (a toy chimpanzee,) observing squirrels and spiders, drawing animals, (the author shows Goodall’s actual drawings), climbing a favorite tree and reading Tarzan of the Apes. We see Jane sitting in a chicken coop for hours, to see a hen lay an egg. I confess a bias for picture books with very few words – and this one is a stunner, with 228 words. The ending, stretched over six double page spreads, is superb:

Jane dreamed of a life in Africa, too…

A life living with, and helping, all animals.

At night Jane would tuck Jubilee into bed, say her prayers,

and fall asleep

to awake one day…

to her dream come true. [photo of grownup Goodall and chimp in the forest.]

This biography shows that the child is the mother of the woman. It leaves out all sorts of intermediate stages, but communicates clearly to a young child that dreams can come true. The subdued watercolor illustrations are accompanied by old engravings of leaves, flowers, animals, and such, which hint at Goodall’s scientific bent. All in all, a beautiful book.

Jeanette Winter’s The Watcher: Jane Goodall’s Life with the Chimps (Schwartz & Wade:

2011)begins with the chicken coop incident to establish Jane as a “watcher.” We see her favorite tree, her reading, then follow Goodall to Africa where “She knew she was Home.” Many pages show her working with chimps, watching, waiting, and taking notes. We learn of deforestation, the killing and kidnapping of chimps, and Jane’s work to save the land and the animals. Winter ends the book with a return visit years later, by Goodall to her beloved forest where she “opened a window for us/ to the world of the chimpanzees.” Most of Winter’s story takes place in the forest with Goodall as an adult. The stylized colorful paintings portray the lushness, density, and color of the landscape and the charm of the chimpanzees. This book, though it has more information than McDonnell’s, can be read by young readers who will find Jane’s and the chimps’ lives equally compelling.

Jane Goodall: Legendary Primatologist, by Brenda Haugen (Compass point Books: 2006) is part of their solid Signature Lives series for middle grade readers. Here we read about Goodall’s English childhood, and the Alligator Club she started with three friends to study nature. We hear of her various jobs before travelling to Africa at age twenty-three. Winter’s book shows Goodall alone in the forest. Haugen’s tells us that she was accompanied at first by her mother, a cook, and two game scouts. We learn about her PhD studies at Cambridge, her two marriages and her son. We hear about human and animal epidemics, about her unsavory discoveries – she saw chimps make war on and eat each other. We learn details of environmental destruction, a horrible (human) kidnapping incident, her non-profit foundation, and her Roots & Shoots children’s organization. We get a full picture of her accomplishments and her difficulties in the bush and in the world at large. Many quotes from Goodall’s writings, black and white photos, and sidebars enhance the text.

The Chimpanzees I Love: Saving Their World and Ours by Jane Goodall (Scholastic: 2001) is a

first hand account of her work, written for young adults. While not a full-blown biography, the first chapter describes her life, including the anecdote of four-year-old Jane in the chicken coop. We learn that her mother had called to police to report her missing! We also learn that her mother was the only person who never laughed at her childhood dream of Africa. This large-format book, filled with color illustrations of chimps describes her work in Africa, as well as her efforts to improve the lives of chimps in zoos and science laboratories. Her passion shines in describing setting up chimp sanctuaries in Africa and humane conditions beyond. Back matter includes facts and resources about chimps, Goodall’s books, and her work.

Goodall’s life and achievements are well-served by the new picture books and the more comprehensive books for older students. As a biographer, I found this assignment enlightening, showing several different ways to tell a life. I look forward to seeing what my students come up with next week.

Books on a High School Graduate's Shelf

When my daughter graduates from high school next month, there will be no looking back. As someone thinking about majoring in astrophysics, she feels like the opportunities to explore her interests will really just begin. So how does a kid learn enough about a subject to think they might like to major in such a field before college even starts? Well, it certainly wasn’t in any of her middle school or high school classes. The answer won’t surprise most of you: nonfiction books for kids.

I can still see her walking over to the library desk, half the size that she is now, with her weekly stack of Seymour Simon books. If space is your thing when you’re a kid, Seymour is the man. He’s written a book on every planet and then some, with great information well beyond the usual elementary level of standard science fair basic styroform model stuff. She was happy to read and soak up as much as this prolific writer could tell her.

One particular book was so important to her that she mentioned it in one of her college essays. It’s called Voyager to the Planets by Necia Apfel and it describes the travels of Voyager 1 and 2 with amazing accompanying photographs. The story of spacecraft and planets enthralled her immediately and was her first real introduction to astronomy.

When I first started this blog, one of the first people I asked to join, based on my kids level of interest in their books, was David Schwartz. Science and math go hand in hand and David’s books, G is for Googol and Q is for Quark succeed in showing how interesting they both can be. These are the books that make scientific and mathematical concepts readily accessible to the elementary set well beyond what the average educator usually believes a child is prepared to understand. Alphabet books, indeed!

Another book my daughter loved because it focused on the fun and delight of an intellectual challenge is Ivan Moscovich’s 1000 Play Thinks. Puzzles, Paradoxes, Illusions & Games. This book has chapters on everything from numbers to logic to topology as well as perception and solutions. A book to promote the fun of thinking. Who would have thunk it.

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There are quite a few more. This might necessitate a Part II. A kid can appreciate a lot of good books in eighteen years. She’s already wondering how many bookshelves she’ll have in her dorm room. Some gems just can’t be left behind in childhood.

Apocalypse -- Not Now, Maybe Later

It’s Sunday, May 22nd, and as far as I can tell from looking out the window, the world and its human inhabitants are still here and going strong. Yesterday was supposed to have been the end, or the beginning of the end. This prophecy emanated from Family Radio Worldwide, a Christian broadcasting company headquartered on a grungy street of my home city, Oakland. Head prophesizer Harold Camping must have messed up his math again. He issued a false alarm a few years ago but later retracted it after the apocalypse failed to materialize and the Earth failed to dematerialize. The math was quite complex, he explained, and he had simply miscalculated. Well, even Einstein had problems with his math, by his own admission, so Camping's faux pas is understandable, although dignifying his bizarre numerology by calling it “math” is a little like calling astrology “astrophysics.”

This wasn’t the first time the Earth did not self-destruct as scheduled. In the 1950s, the Seekers, a Chicago-based cult, received interstellar communications predicting a cataclysm and promising their own rescue in a flying saucer. They were ready for the spacecraft that didn’t show up (some had quit their jobs and sold their homes). Accompanying them as they waited for extraterrestrial transport was Stanford University psychologist Leon Festinger, who wanted to see how people react when their belief system is demolished by irrefutable facts. Festinger found that the non-destruction of the earth and non-arrival of their spacecraft led the Seekers to strengthen their belief system and rationalize the prophecy’s failure: they decided that their willingness to believe it had saved the Earth!

A few weeks ago on this blog, Vicki Cobb wrote about “motivated reasoning” — how our pre-existing beliefs influence our thoughts and color our conclusions, even when we think we are reasoning impartially. As explained in the current issue of the magazine Mother Jones, there is a neurological explanation and an evolutionary basis for self-delusion. In pre-industrial societies, it could improve one's survival ability. Now it has some curious manifestations. One of them is that the major factor people use to decide on the credibility of a scientist is how much agreement they find between the experimenter’s results and their own pre-existing beliefs.

This leads me to education. Providers of professional development for teachers are supposed to draw upon research-based teaching practices. But does it matter when the audience (teachers) must answer to higher authorities (administrators, school board, parents) who bring so many biases to the decision-making table? Does it matter that Denmark and other Scandinavian countries where schoolchildren begin school reading programs at age seven, not before, are the countries with the world’s highest literacy rates? You might think that it would inform those who want to push high-stakes reading tests on seven year old American kids, but don't kid yourself! (Nor should you let Denmark’s top rating in a survey of the “world’s happiest people” fool you into inferring a cause-and-effect relationship between the age at which reading is first taught in school and later happiness. Instead the Danes attribute their contentment to Carlsberg beer.)

In Singapore, children are taught math through a deep understanding of numbers and concepts. Visual aids and hands-on items known as manipulatives are staples of math class. First graders spend a great deal of class time talking about ways to understand each one digit number, and Singapore 5th graders whop ours in comparative international studies. I once saw a video of a typical Japanese middle school math class in which the teacher presented a difficult geometry problem; after many minutes of thought, every student in turn proposed a solution to their peers and defended it. It was not at all the drill-and-kill rote learning many Americans have come to associate with math class.

Yet very few U.S. school districts have tried to adopt successful Asian techniques that often don’t “feel” right to American sensibilities. Perhaps we can be encouraged by the small number that have given it a try. (See “Making Math Lessons as Easy as 1, Pause, 2, Pause…” in the New York Times, Sept. 30, 2010.) We can hope that their success will foster wider acceptance — if teachers get adequate training and parental support. Those are pretty big “ifs” these days.

Someone just handed me this message, printed on a slip of paper:

“WARNING! As of Friday, Facebook will automatically start dragging the Earth into the Sun. To change this option, go to Settings > Planetary Settings > Trajectory > then UNCLICK the box that says ‘Apocalypse.’”

Spring Has Sprung!

We nonfiction writers tend to live more in the real world than in the world of the imagination. I know I feel very grounded in place, wherever I am, and I’m experiencing what goes on around me—the sun, or not; the breeze, or the heavy dense air; the soft forest path under my feet or the hard concrete sidewalk. Roz Schanzer expressed this feeling very well in her recent blog about her Costa Rican photo safari. At times, like during a drab, hard winter, our way of being so intimately in touch can be perhaps more difficult than for those who can escape into their heads with flights of fancy.

But when spring finally does break, as it did just a week ago at my home in Montana, the natural perception and appreciation of the real becomes an energizing joy. With a bedroom window open, my house soaks up the amazing smell of spring—of growth, life, fruit trees in bloom, whatever goes into that heady concoction that proclaims, “Spring is here!”

I haven’t discussed this idea with my fiction-writing friends, and maybe I’m wrong; maybe they find a gray, cold winter just as oppressive as I do. It depresses my creative juices, and nonfiction writing is a creative art, as we nonfiction writers struggle to recreate the real world through words invented by humans. We struggle especially hard to describe sensations like smell and taste, for which our language has few useful words. And when I see the amazing variety of color and size and shape in natural beings like these flowers in the garden of my friend, I’m overwhelmed by the idea that I might even try to express their beauty and variety in mere words. Then I remember that doing is not only my job, it’s my passion and my great challenge.