Archive for Greatest Hits

Ten Best Christmas Movies

November 29, 2008 / / One comment

As the author of the Jigsaw Jones series, I’ve been told by more than one editor that I am “so Jigsaw.” And I suppose that’s reasonably true. But I also identify with Jigsaw’s father. He is, like me, a list-maker. (By the way, Nick Hornby nailed that particular aspect of maleness in his book, High Fidelity — that atavistic urge to build fires, hunt, and make lists.) The scene below was inspired by interactions with my own children. At this time of year, we seem to always make a list to plan “The Christmas Movies We’ve Got to See.”

The scene below, which contains said list, comes early in Jigsaw Jones Super Special #4: The Case of the Santa Claus Mystery, soon after Jigsaw’s father has despaired over the empty materialism of the holidays. He has just insisted, over protests, that the family remain together to decorate the tree. This book is, by the way, one of my favorites in the series. Jigsaw tackles the ultimate mystery, the big man in the red suit, in a way that I hope is satisfying (and not disillusioning) for readers of all persuasions.

“But I have plans . . .” Hillary protested.

“You heard your father, Hill,” my mother said. “We’re going to do something nice together — or else.”

For a while there, I worried that “or else” was going to win. But once we got started, we had fun. Even Hillary. Grams baked sugar cookies. Billy brought down his guitar and played rockin’ versions of Christmas tunes. Then my mom pulled out the DVD of A Charlies Brown Christmas.

“Ah, a classic,” my father beamed. “My favorite Christmas show ever.”

After we watched it, we started talking about all of our favorite Christmas shows.

“Let’s make a list,” my father suggested.

“Oh, your father and his lists,” my mother groaned, laughing.

“Hey,” he protested. “I love lists!”

“So let’s do it,” I said.

We got to work on a list of the Ten Best Christmas Shows in the History of the World. Then we promised to watch every single one this year. Here’s our list:

A Charlie Brown Christmas

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (original version, duh)

A Christmas Story

The Polar Express

The Santa Clause

Elf

Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Miracle on 34th Street

Home Alone

A Christmas Carol

“Pretty good,” Grams said, looking over the list when we finished. “But you have to add It’s a Wonderful Life.”

That’s when I got a phone call from Sally Ann Simms. It sounded important. “I have a case for you,” she said. “Are you still doing detective work over Christmas?”

“You bet,” I replied. “A good detective is always on the job. For a dollar a day, I make problems go away.”

We arranged to meet the next day. I hung up the phone and rushed back to the discussion. “You can’t scratch Elf off the list,” I exclaimed. “He pours maple syrup on his spaghetti!”

NOTE: Okay, what do you make of that list? Did I miss any? Do you hate any that were included? My hands-down favorite is A Christmas Story, though there are definitely language issues that need to be addressed before viewing, and may not be suitable for every family. And for what it’s worth, I really, really detest Frosty the Snowman. I just want that guy to melt. Lastly: It just occurred to me that Santa himself is the ultimate list-maker! (Though, if the articles I’ve read are true, The Lord Almighty may lay claim to that crown on Judgment Day.)

So, Santa, I don’t know if you keep up with the children’s literature blogs or not, but if you do, please know, I’ve been awfully nice! But don’t worry about gifts just yet. I’ll send a list.

In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.

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Category: Greatest Hits, Jigsaw Jones / Tags: , , ,

That First Sentence: Ramona Quimby, Age 8

November 17, 2008 / / 24 comments

A while back, I had the genius idea of posting about Great Opening Sentences. It struck me as a neat platform from which discuss writing in general. You can find that entry here and, as a brief follow-up, here.

A couple of nights ago, I thought of it again when Maggie and I started reading a new book together. On her own, Maggie has been blowing through the Spiderwick Chronicles. But we still love our read-aloud time together, warm and close under the covers. Lisa and Mags had already selected Beverly Cleary’s, Ramona Quimby, Age 8.

First of all, how awesome is that cover illustration? Maggie and I stared at it for a full minute. Just perfect: the expression of Ramona’s impish mouth, the choppy homemade haircut, the slender neck poking out of the sweater, the bug-eyed gaze. (I always wanted a Jigsaw Jones cover like that, btw, the character up-close and central, instead of all those middle-distance, detailed scenes.) When looking for art for this post, I kept pulling up the wrong (ever-updated) covers:

No offense, but those depress me. None of them touch the Dell Yearling cover. The interior art of that book is by Alan Tiegreen, but there’s no mention of the cover artist. It doesn’t seem to be by the same hand. The signature under Ramona’s hair reads, “Scribner.” For what it’s worth, here is (I think) the original, William Morrow cover:

Anyway, I loved the first sentence:

Ramona Quimby hoped her parents would forget to give her a little talking-to.

To me, who didn’t take notice of children’s literature until 1985, it felt like these books had always existed. It surprised me to find a 1981 copyright on this one (Ramona first appeared in the early 50’s, first earning a title shot in Beezus and Ramona, 1955). An argument could be made that Ramona Quimby has been the most influential children’s book character in the past 60 years. Junie B. Jones, Clementine, Amber Brown, and many others seem like Ramona’s direct descendants. Sometimes vivid in their own right, sometimes pale imitations, but always somewhat familiar.

For what it’s worth, the second sentence was equally strong:

She did not want anything to spoil this exciting day.

Like all great beginnings, there was only one response: Keep Reading! We had a main character who already seemed to be in hot water — that great phrase, “a little talking-to” — and was now on the verge of something momentous. Also, Cleary slyly introduces the fear that something — surely something — will indeed “spoil” this day. We’re already worried about things going wrong, great calamities. But what? Well, we’ll have to read to find out.

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Category: Greatest Hits, Readings, the writing process / Tags: , , ,

A Craig Walker Story, or Two

November 12, 2008 / / 2 comments

My friend, Caroline, noticed her young son fidgeting around in that nervous leaky way all parents recognize.

“Elliott, do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Yes, Mom, I do,” Elliott chirped. “And it’s your lucky day — because I have to poop!”

Which reminded me of a story my pal, Craig Walker, used to tell.

He was at Hallmark at the time. This is the early 80’s. After a lengthy effort, Craig’s major project for a new line of greeting cards got shot down. Something he had worked on for weeks and possibly months. An abject failure. So Craig and his friend, Steve, decided to drown their troubles in a sleazy bar. (Craig loved dive bars almost as much as he distrusted fern bars; when given a choice, he always went down-market. One clue to Craig is knowing that one of his all-time favorite movies was “Five Easy Pieces.”)

This place was a dark damp dump. A few grizzled denizens slumped on stools, an old jukebox with blown speakers, peanut shells on the floor, the smell of stale beer. A bar perfectly suited to their sour moods. The waitress/bartender was one of those old battle axes, gimp-legged, wearing too much makeup and yet somehow not nearly enough, missing some teeth, arthritic hands like claws. Craig and Steve ordered a few rounds, Bud in longneck bottles, defeated and miserable.

After a while, the waitress shuffled over. “Any more, boys? Happy Hour is almost over.”

I can hear Craig telling that story. Like all the stories that Craig loved, he told it many, many times. He did the same with favorite jokes; he repeated them endlessly, and laughed merrily after each telling. Somehow the repetition and accumulation made them funnier.

“Happy hour?” they repeated. There was a dumbstruck silence, and the slow dawning of recognition. They looked around. “This . . . this . . . is happy hour?!”

Craig and Steve broke into laughter.

And ordered another round.

Yep, that’s an old copy of the in-house newsletter for Scholastic, where I worked for five years. At the time, 1986, a small number of us had just launched the Firefly Preschool Book Club, which still thrives today. Craig picked the books, I wrote about them, and Barbara Marcus cracked the whip. Good times. Looking back, a significant part of my job was to sit in Craig Walker’s office for hours to discuss all the books that were offered on SeeSaw Book Club and Firefly. What an education. What a privilege. My thanks to Cynthia Maloney for hording that newsletter and passing on a jpg to me.

One more quick Craig story. After my divorce, I married Lisa in 1998. At the wedding, my mother saw Craig and exclaimed, “Craig, I’m so happy to see you again. I didn’t know you were coming.”

Craig replied, “Oh yes, I come to all of Jimmy’s weddings.”

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Category: Greatest Hits, Uncategorized / Tags: , , , , , , ,

Character Is . . .

November 10, 2008 / / No comments

Often we read about painters or novelists who listened to a certain kind of music while they worked on a given project. It helps get them in the right frame of mind. For example, I understand that Matthew Cordell listened exclusively to early-20th century Hungarian circus music while doing the drawings for Mighty Casey. And you can almost hear it in the work:

For me, that’s true with what I read. When I was writing Bystander (Feiwel & Friends/Fall, 2009), I was determined for it to be true and accurate, reflecting current research and the realities of today’s schools. But I also wanted the book to have an unputdownable quality, tension running through the pages. It wasn’t a research paper; it was a story. So I focused my outside reading on thrillers and police procedurals (not my usual fare), just to be steeped in that sensibility. Within those genres, I prefer character-driven tales as opposed to puzzle boxes that emphasize plot twists and complexity. I was blown away by Richard Price, I liked the way Ian Rankin unfolded his John Rebus tales, and then there was my latest discovery, Michael Connelly. Who I think is really, really good.

After I finished Bystander, I again opened up the scope of my reading. Even so, I picked up a collection of essays, Writing Mysteries. Michael Connelly has a brief one in there, titled “Characterization.” Connelly has a clear style, and he doesn’t act like he knows any mystical secrets; he talks plainly about what he’s learned along the way, and what has worked for him.

He makes a couple of points I thought worth repeating:

“Character is defined by quality not quantity.”

As a visiting author in schools, I’ve attempted a few writing workshops and, at least, some in-depth discussions about “writing.” On the central topic of characters, we’d talk about the usual things, “Show, don’t tell,” and so on. We’d sometimes begin with a blank character and I’d encourage the students to build their character by adding details. It often took a while before our discussion got somewhere. Amidst the random jewels, I’d get a list of boring details: She has brown hair, her name is Mary, her eyes are blue, etc. Details, surely, but dull as bathwater. Clutter, not character. For they were not telling details. Connelly writes: “Your life as a writer must be the pursuit of the telling details of character.”

“Character is conflict.”

Connelly writes: “You should endeavor when you write to put obstacles in the path of your characters at every turn and at every level of their lives.”

Further along this same point, Connelly credits Kurt Vonnegut for this summary advice, and writes: “Make sure on every page everybody wants something, even if it’s a glass of water. Or words to that effect. What he was again saying is that character is conflict. All persons are defined by their wants and needs. Their desires.”

Character is need.

And maybe that’s where I am, thinking that’s the question I learned today. What does my character want? What does he need? Because there’s one thing I’ve believed for a long time, and that’s this:

Character is story.

Figure out what your character wants, insert conflict, obstacle, and you have the makings of story. It begins with character.

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Category: Bystander, Greatest Hits, Readings, the writing process / Tags: , , , ,

Bernard Waber: An Appreciation

October 27, 2008 / / 5 comments

“When I am writing, I think of myself as a writer. But when I am illustrating, I think of myself as an illustrator. I think, though, that I try to create situations with my writing that will be fun to illustrate. The writer in me tries to please the illustrator.” — Bernard Waber.

Bernard Waber floats just under the top shelf of all-time great children’s authors and illustrators — you don’t hear his name much these days, when people list influences — but I suspect he’s under-appreciated. Certainly he’s written some great books, most notably Ira Sleeps Over and The House on East Eighty-Eighth Street., the first of many books starring Lyle the Crocodile. (Waber also has a knack for titles: A Lion Named Shirley Williamson is one of my favorites.)

I interviewed Bernard Waber in the early 1990’s. We spoke again a couple of years after that. I had hoped he could contribute to a book project, but we got sidelined when my son, Nicholas, was diagnosed with leukemia at age twenty-six months. Work just stopped for a while. Bernard understood, of course, and sent Nick a stuffed crocodile, some books, and a lovely handwritten note.

You don’t forget things like that.

So, yes, there’s bias here, an affection that goes beyond books. When I spoke with Bernard Waber more than 15 years ago — and I’m happy to report he is still going strong at age 84 — his intelligence shined through. He spoke about his craft with clarity and immodesty, as clear and refreshing as cool water. An innate goodness courses through his books. And his stories, no matter how humorous — how sly, dry, and understated — often contain real sensitivity. He writes from the heart.

“The nice thing about humor,” Waber told me, “is that after you have an idea that you think is humorous, there is always another side that’s sad and complicated. Those are the things you discover after you start writing.”

Ira Sleeps Over finds Waber at his best, capturing the inner angst of a childhood dilemma: the first sleepover. Ira is invited to sleep at his friend Reggie’s house — but he has never slept without Tah Tah, his Teddy Bear. Can Ira risk the embarrassment? With staccato dialogue, Waber deftly explores Ira’s confusing, conflcting emotions. In addition, the dynamic with the older sister rings so true. Because somehow Waber knows. He remembers.

His 2002 book, Courage, in which various characters encounter the need for bravery, was inspired in part by 9/11, though he primarily drew upon childhood memories of the Great Depression. I love the cover:

Waber told Becky Rodia, of Teaching K-8 magazine, “Courage is the summoning of core strengths, faith, and idealism in confrontation with life’s challenges. My parents’ bracing themselves against all odds during the Great Depression taught me valuable lessons in this regard. However, because we are humans with frailties, courage can also mean asking for help and support in the face of overwhelming circumstances.”

When I think of Bernard Waber, I think of someone who showed us what a picture book can achieve. Laughter, childlike appeal, and adult insight. For that, and for more personal reasons, I offer this tribute. I don’t know who handles these things, but I hereby nominate Bernard Waber for a lifetime achievement award for his contributions to children’s literature.

Note: If you enjoyed this appreciation — the fourth in a series — just click the links for thoughts on other literary lions: William Steig, Arnold Lobel, and Raymond Chandler.

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Category: Greatest Hits, Interviews & Appreciations / Tags: , , , , ,
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