A Picture Worth 1000 Words

The more graphic novels I read, the more gems I find. I’m eclectic in my reading tastes. I’ve dabbled in everything from superheroes to fairytales.

Some of my favorite graphic reads have been memoirs. I’ve found several middle grade pallet cleansers, like Raina Telgemeier’s Smile, which I loved just as much for its sweet story as its artwork. The character’s expressions reminded me of Calvin and Hobbes, a style that I love.


Lucy Knisley’s graphic memoir, Relish, had a similar brightness to its story and artwork, but added a more literal sweetness by putting recipes at the end of every chapter. When I showed this to my mother-in-law, a fantastic cook, she loved it too, and my copy passed on to several other reader-cook family members.


Utterly different but still excellent, Lies in the Dust by Jakob Crane depicted the story of Ann Putnam, the only girl to apologize for her part in over twenty deaths during the Salem Witch Trials. Timothy Deker’s use of black and white for the illustrations emphasized the dark history that inspired this book with its lack of color.

It was shortly after this that I read the March trilogy by John Lewis. This too was illustrated entirely in black and white, an ideal choice for this moving graphic memoir.


Congressman John Lewis tells the story of his role in the Civil Rights movement juxtaposed against the inauguration of President Barack Obama. These were beautiful not only for of the history they tell, but also for of the way it’s told. The black and white illustrations take on an almost symbolic nature since the book is all about racism and the fight for equality. Also, the lack of color softened the violence depicted in the novel, allowing it to remain historically accurate in its intensity but muted enough for younger readers. It’s hard to know what to show when the history being told includes so many murders, but I thought they did an excellent job.

I loved all of these books, but March was one of those reading experiences that I want to share with everyone. It’s a true story of bravery in the face of death and torture, of people standing firm for truth, of a people’s fight for freedom.

It’s an account of real American heroes.

John Lewis speaking at Lincoln Memorial on August 28, 1963

Book Review: “The Tiger Rising” by Kate DiCamillo

There have been a lot of healthy learning curves in my time spent living with my in-laws.   One that still continues to baffle me is the reading habits of my eleven-year-old sister-in-law. Partly because I am her ride to the library and partly because I read in virtually every genre and age group, she sometimes asks me for book recommendations. Some days I’ll try to help, others I’ll just shrug and say, “I have no idea.” I can never tell what’s appropriate for her or what will make her upset for one reason or another.

What I believe I’ve learned is that you can’t truly know what is appropriate for someone else’s kid. I live in the same house as her, but I can’t gage from one book to the next how much she’s matured or what content she can handle. Therefore, I ask that you please take this into consideration with my recommendation on the book below.

Personally, I love it when MG authors aren’t afraid to deal with hard topics. I especially love it when they do it in a way that is both wise and tender, so that younger readers can metabolize the depth of the themes they’re dealing with. From what I’ve read of her work, this is one of Kate DiCamillo’s talents, and her book The Tiger Rising is a perfect example of this. It is a short read, only 128 pages, which I actually think is one aspect of it that makes it easier to digest.

The story centers around a young boy and girl who discover a caged tiger. This becomes a metaphor for the struggles in both their lives, that of repressed anger and sadness. This book is about dealing with immense loss. Along with that, it also contains realistic portrayals of bullying and a heartbreakingly beautiful portrait of a family living in a motel, barely making their way. It is not a light bubbly read. It’s not intended to be. Yet I think it excellently done.

I have seen some reviewers condemning it because it’s too sad or heavy. To me, what makes this a worthy read even for a younger audience is the tactful yet truthful way the hard issues are addressed. There should be space in children’s reading experience for books that show them how other people have to live. It helps them develop empathy for those around them. For example, say that a bully is made to read this book by a parent or a teacher, seeing the pain that the tormenters cause to the main characters might prick their conscience about their own behavior. Reading, if the writing is good, forces you into the headspace of another person as a necessary part of the experience. There are even studies that show reading good literature improves a persons ability to empathize.

Also, let’s not forget that not all children lead charmed existences. Life’s ugliness does not pass over you because of age. If the child is experiencing a similar tragedy to the characters, it gives the child hope to read the story, not pain. They can say, “if someone I don’t know could write about a kid just like me, than I’m not alone.” That’s why truth in writing is so important.  And, solong as it’s done on a level that they understand and can cope with, is it ever too early to preach truth to a child?

Only you know when and if your child is ready for certain content. Personally, I loved this book and was not at all uncomfortable with its target audience, as I have been with other YA/MG books I’ve read. Kate DiCamillo did justice to a lot of heavy themes with how she gently unfolded the tale. It read like crawling into the lap of a protective loved one. Her words brushed the hair from my forehead, and when I closed the book my heart felt foremost this message, “life can be ugly, but remember child, you’re not alone.”