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GOOD NEWS: Here Comes a Book That’s Not Crud

May 17, 2026 / jimmy / No comments

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For the past week, the children’s book world has been in an uproar (it started off as a kerfuffle, and quickly escalated) in response to critical comments made by author Mac Barnett about the current state of children’s literature. If you don’t know, you can find out easily enough.

Besides being a gifted writer, Barnett is currently the National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, appointed by the Library of Congress. For that reason, his dismissive comments stung all the more.

The response to Barnett’s (ill-advised, mean-spirited, condescending) comment has been extensive and passionately articulate, with many creators weighing in at length. There’s even been a widely circulated opinion piece from The Wall Street Journal to further fan the flames.

To me, a week later, it all feels overcooked. But I’ve been in this business for more than 40 years, I know it’s a bunny-eat-bunny world, and I can’t get too worked up about one guy’s opinion. And I am not at all interested in joining the dogpile. There’s far too much of that these days.

So here I sit, after finally figuring out how I want to respond to the notion that 94.7% of children’s books are crud.

I want to talk about books I love, people I admire.

Today I want you to know about a book that I’m really, really excited to see in the world. It’s a true original, with more than a touch of Daniel Pinkwater’s influence. I am talking about Matt McElligott’s exciting new foray into illustrated, middle-grade fiction. The book combines Matt’s offbeat sense of humor with the deep intelligence that has characterized his work through the decades. The debut book in the series is a wild, funny, inventive story; I’m thrilled that soon young readers will get the chance to check it out for themselves.

Quietly, Matt McElligott is one of our best.

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The new series launches in October, 2026, and, yes, it absolutely comes out of left field — as if it were beamed down from another planet. Where did this come from? Matt’s not jumping on a trend or following the whims of the marketplace. In the age of Artificial Intelligence, here’s an artist creating from the wacky heart, the curious mind, the untethered soul.

Let’s see a robot try that.

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Here’s the description from Matt’s publisher, Bloombury.

Project WOOFF was top-secret . . . until now.

Alex Grebert has lived his whole life in the off-grid community of Underland with his nature-loving Aunt Zinnia ever since his parents died unexpectedly. Alex loves his aunt, but it’s not easy being a coder in a place where electricity and internet are practically nonexistent.

When Alex’s best friend Lily Day takes in a stray cat named Fuzzypants, Alex is pulled into an adventure straight out of one of his self-made video games. The cat, whose real name is Professor Fuzzypants, PhD., is a product of Project WOOFF (Weaponized Optimization of Flora/Fauna), a top-secret government project that developed intelligent, speaking animals.

Project WOOFF was supposed to have been shut down a long time ago, but someone is continuing the experiments. Alex and Lily are determined to find out why it all went wrong, especially when Alex discovers that there may be more to his parents’ story than he had ever been told.

Featuring black-and-white chapter opening artwork and full-page black-and-white illustrations throughout, this short series starter will appeal to the young middle-grade reluctant reader.

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NOTE: I hope other creators will take this opportunity to praise books, to talk up the good stuff — maybe the less hyped among us — and put a spotlight on all the wonderful work being done in children’s publishing today.

Category: Around the Web, Current Events, Interviews & Appreciations / Tags: Art by Matt McElligott from Project WOOFF, Daniel Pinkwater's influence, Matt McElligott, One Writer's Response to Mac Barnett, Project WOOFF

Oranges Disappoint

April 8, 2026 / jimmy / No comments

I sat down last night, a book on my lap, a cup of tea on the table, along with an orange sliced into quarters.

And I took a bite and thought:

This is the time of year when oranges disappoint.

It struck me as a type of Twitter comment, a quippy social media update. In the Northeast, I eat delicious oranges throughout the winter. A habit formed during my halcyon wrestling days, trying to make weight. But come this time of year, not so much. They are so often disappointing.

This particular orange lacked in flavor.

Then I thought that readers would see it as coded language. To them, I wouldn’t be talking about the fruit. No, it was obviously a reference to the Ugliest American, the orange one. His grim threats of genocide that had us legitimately wondering if our highest elected official might, in a snit, drop a nuclear bomb. And wondering, too, if there would be anybody with the moral conviction to stop him. Those thoughts settled in my stomach like the bones of a sunken battleship to the ocean floor.

If I posted “oranges disappoint,” it would be seen as not only about Trump, but it would also imply that I once help hopes for him. Maybe was even a former supporter, a three-timer, now (finally) disappointed.

But nope and nope.

As Sigmund Freud once remarked, “Sometimes an orange is just an orange.”

Category: Current Events / Tags: Oranges disappoint, Sigmund Freud, Sometimes an orange is just an orange

FESTIVAL RECAP: Thank You, John Torres, and the Poughkeepsie Public Library Staff & Volunteers

March 30, 2026 / jimmy / One comment

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I want to start with the thank you’s before getting to the more interesting stuff. Boring, I know. I half expect to hear the orchestra play me off stage. I’ll be quick, promise.

I was invited to participate at Saturday’s Poughkeepsie Children’s Book Festival and it was a really nice day that couldn’t have happened for me without the help of many people.

The person I owe the greatest thanks is John Torres, who somehow orchestrates the massive event without (seemingly) fuss or stress. Part of that is because he has a lot of help. I want to thank the staff at the Poughkeepsie Public Library. Somehow there’s a free book voucher for every child who shows up (17 and younger) and I know that requires a lot of behind-the-scenes fundraising and publicity efforts. All I do is benefit from their hard work.

In my experience, festivals are also determined by the quality and quantity of volunteers. We couldn’t do it without the many blue-shirted volunteers who help us out throughout the day, especially my favorite, John’s daughter Isabella, who hangs around every single year. I feel like we’ve grown up together! Isabella is quiet and unassuming. Running errands, looking to be helpful with water or sandwiches or whatever. Yet she pretends not to hear me when I request a simple cocktail. You might not even notice her. And every year I think the same thing: Still waters run deep.

As a formerly shy kid myself, I’ve always liked and trusted the quiet ones.

Thanks, too, to Kira Wizner at Merritt Bookstore. When it all runs smoothly, we don’t notice they are there. But heaven forfend, when there’s a mistake, they stand up and take the heat. Thanks for everything, Kira; you do good work.

Anyway, it’s a funny thing about these festivals. Sometimes authors will ask me, “How’d it go? How did you do?” And maybe for some the idea is whether you’ve moved product. And, yes, that’s a beautiful thing. Young readers coming up, grabbing your books and racing off with smiles on their faces. It’s great to be popular. And, yeah, to actually have a viable career. To write or illustrate books that people want. It’s not nothing.

But maybe because I’ve never been that writer with the big bestseller, I’m just a guy who has somehow lasted 40 years in this business, I’ve kind of steered away from measuring “a good day” by that standard. I don’t keep track of how many books I sell. Instead I tend to look at conversations I have, people I meet, the beautiful families that sometimes come along — the parents, the kids, all enjoying themselves, gathered around for a chat. The way those parents stand back and give their children the time and space to explore the books, meet the authors, ask questions, and finally (sometimes agonizingly!) choose one (or three!) for themselves. It warms the heart to see these families, and these young people who are supported and so obviously loved.

And then there’s the story of Jacob . . .

I love when this kind of thing happens. One this day, a reader, Jacob, returned to Poughkeepsie after meeting me at least 2-3 years ago. Back then, he was a cool, confident, upbeat kid. Now he’s even cooler. Yesterday there was that expectant look in his eyes, like, “You remember me, right?” And of course I can’t even find my car in the parking lot. I stammer something. Finally bells go off and the lights turn on: “Jacob! You’re older!” I think he was tearing through my Scary Tales books last we met. Now he’s moved on to Blood Mountain. It’s a good feeling for me, exactly like seeing an old friend. Thanks, Jacob. And thanks, Mom, for the support and the photo and for, you know, Jacob.

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