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Book Review: Poesy the Monster Slayer by Cory Doctorow, illustrated by Matt Rockefeller

Poesy the Monster Slayer by Cory Doctorow, illustrated by Matt Rockefeller.

Every page of this book made me laugh.

Cory Doctorow is the author of Pirate Cinema, Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, and Little Brother, three books I love, among many others. He’s also an activist for the EFF. This is totally different from his previous work that I am familiar with. It is a sweet picture book about a little girl who has done her research into how to defeat monsters and waits until bedtime to take action. Poesy is not afraid of the monster under the bed and doesn’t want to befriend it– she has creative plans to use what she has at hand to defeat them, and puts them into action, much to her exhausted parents’ dismay. It is short, funny, sweet, and easy to understand, with colorful, slightly cartoony illustrations. Poesy is determined to save the day, tiara in place, armed with bubblegum perfume and a butterfly net.

For early educators, here’s an opportunity to define parts of a book near the beginning of the book as Poesy and her dad debate the beginning, middle, and title page of the monster book he is reading her.

A side note, both Poesy and her mother are Black, adding a little diversity to children’s book illustration.

Highly recommended for children of all ages.

 

Reviewed by Kirsten Kowalewski

Book Review: Root Magic by Eden Royce

cover art for Root Magic by Eden Royce

Root Magic by Eden Royce

Walden Pond Media, 2021

ISBN-13 : 978-0062899576

Available:  Hardcover, Kindle edition, audiobook  Bookshop.orgAmazon.com )

 

 

Root Magic takes place on Wadmalaw, one of the Sea Islands off the coast of South Carolina that is home to the Gullah-Geechee nation, a unique ethnic group with a combined heritage from African and indigenous individuals with its own language and traditions. Author Eden Royce, creates a vivid picture of Gullah-Geechee culture and traditions in the setting of the Sea Islands around the time of the Kennedy assassination though her eleven-year old narrator, Jezebel.

After her grandmother dies, Jezebel’s grandfather decides it is time to teach Jezzie and her twin brother Jay the basics of root magic for the purposes of protection, such as painting their house “haint blue” so evil spirits and boo-hags can’t enter, mixing potions, and creating root bags.  The nearby marsh, previously a place the twins used to play, becomes dangerous as it tries to suck Jezzie in.  Still, the twins are fascinated by root magic and can’t wait to learn more.  Jezzie, in particular, starts to develop new powers, such as the ability to astrally project.

Things are not so easy at school. Jezzie has been jumped a year forward, and new girls from families with more money have moved to town. Jezzie, with her darker skin, mended clothes, and rumors of witchiness, becomes a target. Her only friend is Suzie, who can’t invite her over or visit her home, for reasons that become clear later.  In his grade, Jay has become friendly with the other boys, and Jezzie is worried that her connection to him is breaking.

In addition to troubles at school, there are troubles at home. A police officer has taken a particular interest in Jezzie’s family, invading their home in their absence, demanding food, threatening them, and breaking their things. He knows they are a family of root workers and his behavior towards them escalates. While Jezzie and Jay do face supernatural threats in the book, it is Jezzie’s compassion to animals and creatures in trouble (including boo-hags) that helps protect her family from this dangerous but not at all supernatural threat.

Royce’s descriptions make it feel almost like the reader could step through to the island, and she is able to set the time period effectively with just a few sentences. Jim Crow and racist policing are alive and well, and that’s built into the story. Children questioning why the school would still be segregated, the police searching Jezzie’s house without a warrant, and the effect of the Kennedy assassination on the community will get their answers without an exposition dump.  Royce’s presentation of the controversy over passing on root working practices both in the community and in the same family is also interesting, and she illustrates that root work is not a religion, but is a way of connecting with the world.

While the Gullah-Geechee nation became official in 2000, its existence is not well known, and it has a unique culture and language. Introducing Gullah-Geechee culture and language to a more mainstream audience through a middle-grade novel makes it very accessible. Eden Royce is a member of the Gullah-Geechee nation, and I think it would be very difficult to write about it from outside (in fact, there was a controversy over this not that long ago). Royce has a background as a horror writer for adults, with writing grounded in folklore and the Southern Gothic. I’m so glad she chose to use some of these same elements in this engaging historical Southern Gothic #OwnVoices novel for children. Children who enjoy this book may also enjoy Tracey Baptiste’s The Jumbies, Claribel A. Ortega’s Ghost Squad, and Marie Arnold’s The Year I Flew Away. Highly recommended for ages 8-12.

 

Contains: racism, police brutality, violence

Book Review: The Girl Who Builds Monsters by Brian James Freeman, illustrated by Vincent Chong

cover art for The Girl Who Builds Monsters by Brian James Freeman, illustrated by VIncent Chong

Bookshop.org  |  Amazon.com )

The Girl Who Builds Monsters by Brian James Freeman, illustrated by Vincent Chong

Cemetery Dance, 2020

ISBN-13 : 978-1587677656

Available: Hardcover

 

Emma is lonely. The kids in town think she is a monster because of the birthmark on her face. She lives with her  grandfather, who owns a doll factory where he designs and manufactures beautiful dolls, with perfect faces and bodies, for sale. One day, Emma finds a room of rejected and damaged machinery and doll parts, and starts to create dolls herself. They are imperfect, even monstrous, but Emma loves them, and takes them home, where she already has beautiful dolls her grandfather has made for her. At night, when Emma is asleep, all the dolls come alive. Unlike the kids in town, the perfect dolls welcome the monster dolls, and they all play together happily. The monster dolls are more adventurous and confident than the perfect dolls, though, and when robbers break into the house one night, the monster dolls come up with a plan to trap the thieves and protect Emma and her grandfather. Knowing they are supposed to keep their nighttime activites secret, the monster dolls charge the thieves, terrifying them into falling through a trapdoor in the hallway floor and saving the day. Looking monstrous on the outside doesn’t stop them from either being loved or acting out of love. On its own, it’s a sweet little story.

However, Vincent Chong’s illustrations really up the creepiness factor. It’s one thing to write about dolls, and another to draw them. I saw some aspects in the illustration, design, and use of font in the book that reminded me a bit of some of Dave McKean’s illustrations in The Wolves in the Walls. The people in the book are not realistically depicted, but the dolls seem much more real.  In sharing this book with my daughter, the absolutely creepiest moment for her was the two-page spread of the brightly drawn automated doll assembly line (although the monster dolls’ nighttime attack on the thieves was a close second), so it’s likely that the dolls’ uncanny nature may cause unease in some children, Emma herself is an adorable, if mostly sad, little girl. Chong shades her birthmark in while not letting it define her face or personality, and it is really wonderful to see her imagination at work as she takes ownership of turning damaged pieces into imperfect dolls that she can relate to. In Chong’s illustration of the dolls seen through Emma’s eyes, the monster dolls don’t seem monstrous.

For me, one of the things that makes this an absolutely outstanding book and a choice I would recommend for anyone working with elementary aged children is that it is one of the few picture books out there that depict disability in a positive and respectful way. Too often picture books about disabled people are educational texts describing a child’s disability for abled peers, and in the few fictional picture books, disabled people are rarely depicted as multifaceted individuals with positive characteristics. In fiction in general, disabled people are usually presented stereotypically, as either someone to feel sorry for (like Beth in Little Women), someone inspirational (think Auggie from Wonder), someone with “magical” abilities (Charles Xavier of the X-Men), or a villain. In horror in particular, villainy is frequently signified by disfigurement or masking (some of the classics in horror fiction include the Phantom of the Opera, the Invisible Man, and Dorian Gray ).  Brian James Freeman has done a great job at subverting the trope of disability and disfigurement as villainous and monstrous, and celebrating imperfection, and it’s really exciting to see this. Highly recommended for grades K+.