Archive for June 6, 2008

Arnold Lobel: An Appreciation

I cannot think of any work that could be more agreeable and fun than making books for children.” — Arnold Lobel

As an author, I’m often asked to list some of my favorite writers. Of course, it’s impossible. There are too many. But one name always comes to my lips, Arnold Lobel. And I think the reason is this: his total commitment to children’s literature. To me, he was the master.

A while back I had the opportunity to write brief profiles of 75 children’s book authors and illustrators for a book titled, in lunk-headed fashion, The Big Book of Picture-Book Authors & Illustrators (out of print, alas). I interviewed many amazing people — James Marshall, Barbara Cooney, Bill Martin, Jr., Barbara Park, Bernard Waber, Trina Schart Hyman, Kevin Henkes, etc. — but, unfortunately, I was too late for Arnold Lobel. He died after a long illness on December 4th, 1987. But I did my research, read most of his books, found his classic acceptance speech for the Caldecott Medal, and came away with great respect. I love the “Frog and Toad” titles, of course, and Fables, and Ming Lo Moves the Mountain, and my personal favorite, Whiskers and Rhymes. But more than any individual book, I most love his bright, shining spirit — his commitment to his craft — his intelligence — his deep feeling — his legacy.

Time rolls forward. These days, at social events, some good fellow will sidle up beside me, possibly curious about this palpable oddity, a real live children’s book writer in his midst. And he’ll ask, not unkindly, “Do you think you’ll ever try to write a real book?” Meaning, of course, an adult book.

I’m not insulted, much. I’ll just smile and say maybe, perhaps, I don’t know, but right now I’m pretty challenged trying to write children’s books.

When I first began to conjure the dream of becoming a writer, children’s books were not on my radar. I wanted to write great, important books and poems for deep-thinking adults. My dream did not include titles like Hiccups for Elephant or Wake Me In Spring. I used to frequently wonder if I was on the right path, and it’s a question that never entirely goes away, though it haunts me less and less. I think of Arnold Lobel and I am reassured by his pride, his deep belief in his work, his love of children’s literature. It comes down to, like he said, single-minded dedication. No half-measures. No apologies. “One of the secrets of writing good books for children,” Lobel once commented, “is that you can’t really write books for children; you must write books for yourself and about yourself.”

I couldn’t agree more.

In my upcoming book, Along Came Spider, there’s a school librarian who plays a minor but critical role in the story. Her name? Miss Lobel. Now you know how I dreamed up the name!

Fan Mail Wednesday #3

Here’s a good one that somehow found its way to my home after being addressed to my ex-agent from about eight years ago. My thanks to the people at Writer’s House for re-directing this missive my way.

After some deliberation, I decided to present this particular note with uncorrected spelling and grammar, since that’s part of the charm. You’ll have to imagine the handwriting.

Joseph writes:

Dear James Preller

Hi I am a amircan from Pennsylvania. My Name is Joseph. I am pleased to be writing you. I enJoyed the NbA book of opposots, but not so much the case of the perfict prank. I found out you had a son named Alan preller, and a wife named Ann preller, I also found out you had a children’s book of Awards. I’d like to meet you some day.

* * * * *

Joseph, thanks for writing. I’m glad you enjoyed The NBA Book of Opposites. It was a lot of fun to work on that book, since we had to find cool photographs to illustrate different concepts such as “quiet” and “loud,” “happy” and “sad,” “over” and “under,” and so on. With one word on each page, I’m pretty certain that it’s the shortest book I ever wrote.

It’s too bad you didn’t care for Jigsaw Jones #23: The Case of the Perfect Prank. But I appreciate that you gave it a chance!

Just to clear up some confusion: My father’s name was Alan. My mother’s name is Ann. My kids are named Nick, Gavin, and Maggie. My wife’s name is Lisa. My dog’s name is Daisy. And, alas, I don’t know ANYTHING about a book of awards. Maybe I won an award but nobody ever told me? That would be sort of nice and rotten at the same time. I’ll keep my fingers crossed anyway (but not while typing).

Thanks again, and I hope to meet you, too!

JP

Jimmy Valvano: ESPY Awards Speech1993

In Six Innings (p.116), I made a special point to reference one of my favorite speeches ever, the great Jimmy Valvano — basketball coach and cancer victim — at the 1993 ESPY Awards. It’s a little long, almost ten minutes, but all I can say is: It’s ten minutes well spent. “Don’t give up, don’t ever give up.” Just watch it.

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New York Times Book Review!

Yesterday was a big day for me, because Six Innings was reviewed in the Sunday New York Times Book Review by Lisa Von Drasek. By the way, isn’t that a great name? Lisa Von Drasek. I immediately think of vampires and fog-enshrouded castles, the howling of wolves, the whispering of black capes in musty hallways. “Von Drasek? Surely not the daughter of . . . Count Von Drasek?”

The money quote: “It was “Six Innings” that made a baseball lover out of me.”

Thank you, Lisa. I’ll never joke about your name again!

You can read the full review by clicking here. It’s a very well-written piece — featuring two other baseball titles, Keeping Score by Linda Sue Park and The Big Field by Mike Lupica. I’m really happy about it. I’m not a guy who typically visits Cloud Nine, I tend to downplay things, but I’ll admit to treating myself to a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream last night. Good times, good times.

As my first hardcover novel, Six Innings was destined to get reviewed by the standard industry magazines such as Publishers Weekly, School Library Journal, and Booklist. I was excited by that prospect, and vaguely terrified. I asked my editor, the fabulous Liz Szabla, to not tell me about any of the reviews: I didn’t want to know (but of course I did, but I didn’t, and yet I did! Ack!).

You see, I had spent a large part of the previous eight years writing the “Jigsaw Jones” mystery series (along with a long list of side projects — anything to pay the mortgage). But despite writing thirty-plus chapter books in the series, those books were never reviewed. Not once, not anywhere. Absolutely, positively, critically ignored. As a series, the books were unworthy, the ugly stepsisters of the publishing world. Yes, I got a lot of fan mail. But in the world of children’s literature, and to a large extent within the halls of my own publisher, those books almost didn’t exist beyond the category of “product.”

And yet I put everything I had in them.

So now I’m faced with a strange, new experience. Today I find myself in the New York Times Book Review. Wow. In many respects, that’s the mountaintop. Finally, I wrote something that people are reading closely — people other than, I should say, the boys and girls for whom the books are intended.

Series writers are somehow slotted into a sub-category, like a sub-species, Boo Radley in a darkened room. And yet as everybody knows, series literature (if we may use the L-word) is widely read. That’s what the industry demands, it’s what editors want, it’s what kids read. I’m talking about popular series like “The Secrets of Droon” by Tony Abbott, “The Baby-Sitters Club” by Ann M. Martin, or “Animorphs” by Katherine Applegate (to name just a few). Each of those authors I’ve listed went on to later write, ta-da, Real Books that received critical attention and acclaim. As if, wow, maybe they suddenly learned how to write! But I’d bet that they are just as proud, if not prouder, of the paperback series they wrote than all the great reviews they later earned for their “more important” hardcover books. It’s too bad. I wish our reviewers gave more recognition to series publishing, the good and the bad.

Okay, I’ll step off the soapbox. Besides, I’ve got to run out to make a xerox of that Times review. My mom needs a copy (whether she knows it or not)!