Pebbles to the Sea

Written by Marie-Andrée Arsenault
Illustrated by Dominique Leroux
Translated by Shelley Tanaka
Groundwood Books
978-1-77306-824-4
40 pp.

Ages 3-6
October 2022

 

Les Îles de la Madeleine, a Quebec archipelago, is a truly unique maritime community in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. And La Grave, a heritage site on les Îles de la Madeleine, is the center of life for sisters Flo and Fée. It is quiet and lively, a solitude and a community, and it is home. 

From Pebbles to the Sea by Marie-Andrée Arsenault, illus. by Dominique Leroux

On a gray day, the two girls are told to stay put as their parents, separated in marriage and residence, head to work: Papa to the marina, and Maman to her workshop. Along the shore, Flo and Fée collect pebbles and decorate them with bits of colour. But, when a dot flies across the sky, they know it's Henri using his giant trebuchet and venture away to investigate, leaving their coloured pebbles to mark their path. They pass the marina, and then the café where Jean-Marc plays the piano that makes them dance. While they eat a large piece of three-layer cake, Jean-Marc heads out with a pot of paint.

From Pebbles to the Sea by Marie-Andrée Arsenault, illus. by Dominique Leroux

Another dot across the sky and Flo and Fée continue on their journey, stopping to visit with artist Francine at her shop, and admire her art that reflects their community, including Maman's house and Papa's, and share in her ice cream. Francine too takes off with a pot of paint and a brush as the two girls leave another pebble and move on. At Henri's giant trebuchet, the girls look out over the water and islands and learn of the ice bridge that once connected their own island–Havre-Aubert–with l'île de'Entrée.

The bridge between the two islands can never be broken, the same way you two will always link your mother and father.

When the two finally are returned home by their parents, there is a surprise for them that could only come from the many who united as one for them. 

 

Though artist Dominique Leroux gives Pebbles to the Sea a cool and damp feel, appropriate for a maritime landscape in which lined rubber books, thick woolen tights and hats are needed for outdoor play, the story is one of warmth and community. Marie-Andrée Arsenault's words, translated with honesty and heart by Shelley Tanaka, gives the story that spirit, even as the girls recognize the separation that is part of their family now. Still, they are reminded by everyone that they are part of something bigger. They are part of a community that will teach them, feed them, entertain them and watch over them. And they will do it with colour and affection.  The illustrations, multi-media created with paint and collage of photos, torn paper and lace, may mirror the same, seeming to be pervasively cool, as the girls might feel their circumstances may be, but brightened with colour and textures that cheer.

Des Couleurs sur la Grave (2019), the original French-language edition of Pebbles to the Sea, won the 2020 Le Prix Harry Black de l'album jeunesse for the best French-language Canadian picture book for children. Pebbles to the Sea will now introduce La Grave, les Îles de la Madeleine and creators Marie-Andrée Arsenault and Dominique Leroux to English-language young readers and perhaps reassure them that parental separation is not necessarily familial separation, and that family can go beyond the nuclear family.  Like Jean-Marc says of La Grave, Pebbles to the Sea is "the perfect playground for a happy life."

From Pebbles to the Sea by Marie-Andrée Arsenault, illus. by Dominique Leroux

The Big Bad Wolf in My House

Written by Valérie Fontaine

Illustrated by Nathalie Dion

Translated by Shelley Tanaka

Groundwood Books

978-1-77306-501-4

32 pp.

Ages 5-8

March 2021

It's International Women's Day and, to women who find themselves in abusive home circumstances and explore ways to cope including fighting back legally or finding shelter elsewhere, we stand by you, and Valérie Fontaine and Nathalie Dion offer hope.

From The Big Bad Wolf in My House by Valérie Fontaine, illus. by Nathalie Dion

A little girl could always see through the wolf who married her mother.

He batted his eyelashes and purred like a pussycat

in front of my mother.

But he looked at me with cold eyes and sharp teeth.

The honeymoon was sour, like lemons.

From The Big Bad Wolf in My House by Valérie Fontaine, illus. by Nathalie Dion

But when her mother gets home late from work one day, the wolf show his true self, shouting names and hurling food. The child removes herself from the situation, but she can see the impact it has on her mother whose smile begins to droop along with her body.

From The Big Bad Wolf in My House by Valérie Fontaine, illus. by Nathalie Dion

Her mother tries to shield her child but the wolf is scary, leaving finger marks on the girl's arms and coming into her room as he chooses.

From The Big Bad Wolf in My House by Valérie Fontaine, illus. by Nathalie Dion

But one day, with only five minutes notice, her mother declares that they are leaving. They go to a house full of kind mothers and children but no wolves. 

The big bad wolf can huff and puff all he wants,

but this house will not fall down.

The little girl knows the tale about a big bad wolf. It's the one where he huffs and puffs to blow the house down. The little ones in the story try to protect themselves in shelters of straw and wood but to no avail. Same with this child. She tries a fortress of blankets to shield herself, or a closed door of wood but neither stops the big bad wolf. She does build "a fort made of bricks. I put it up around my heart." But it's not until they go to a new house, a shelter for women and children, that they find safety.

Told from the child's perspective and analogous to the story of the big bad wolf and the three little pigs, The Big Bad Wolf in My House makes a situation of domestic abuse very disquietingly elementary. The mother marries a man who is abusive to her and her child. He may appear sheep-like to begin with but he's dangerous. Both mother and child find ways to cope with the physical or emotional attacks, but coping is not safety. It's just a delay. Both in its original French (Le grand méchant loup dans ma maison, 2020) and this English edition (translated by Shelley Tanaka), Valérie Fontaine's story demonstrates the impact of domestic abuse on the whole family and how adults and children find their own ways to survive. Though she parallelizes the chilling abuse of a man against his new wife and stepchild with a child's fable, Valérie Fontaine never, never trivializes the situation, only gives it context. After all, the big bad wolf could be any one. 

I was just introduced to Nathalie Dion's work last week (I Found Hope in a Cherry Tree by Jean E. Pendziwol) and realize how versatile her art is, creating lightness and hope in one book and now tension and despair in The Big Bad Wolf in My House. Painting by hand with gouache and digitally with a pastel brush, Nathalie Dion still imbues her illustrations with the starkness of the family situation, engulfed with shadows and angles and using colour and lightness minimally and generally only associated with the child or situations outside the home. 

Some may despair of this tale of domestic abuse but Valérie Fontaine and Nathalie Dion have taken us through the darkness from a child's perspective and shown us an outcome that offers the promise of respite.

From The Big Bad Wolf in My House by Valérie Fontaine, illus. by Nathalie Dion

Grandfather and the Moon

Written by Stéphanie Lapointe

Illustrated by Rogé

Translated by ShelleyTanaka

Groundwood Books

978-1-55498-963-4

100 pp.

Ages 10-13

May 2017

Grand-père et la Lune won the 2016 Governor General's Award for French-language children's illustration and Groundwood Books has astutely engaged Shelley Tanaka to bring this jewel as Grandfather and the Moon to English-language readers. It's sensitive and nostalgic and emotive in a finely understated approach, blending a grandfather-granddaughter relationship with an exceptional journey into space.

Though it is evident from the subtle words and illustrations at the onset that the young girl's grandfather has passed, this is her story of how she remembers him.  He affectionately called her Mémère and, though he spoke few words, he said much to her.  He told his granddaughter of his past work, and always insisted she go to university and get her degree.  He drove around in a tank of a Chrysler and loved spaghetti that came out of a can.

From Grandfather and the Moon 

by Stéphanie Lapointe

illus. by Rogé

Life passed through Grandfather
like one long breath.
Warm,
and slow.

He adored his wife Lucille and was devastated by her death, slipping into a depression of fewer words, "Like his heart ran out of gas." When the Who Will Go to the Moon Contest is announced (though Grandfather hadn't heard of it, since he rarely watched TV, declaring that "Television is something that ends up doing our thinking for us"), the young girl is selected from hundreds of thousands of people for the space journey.

From Grandfather and the Moon 

by Stéphanie Lapointe

illus. by Rogé

After a booming launch, the girl ponders the beauty and silence of space, infusing her deliberations with her perspective on the history of space travel.  Just like the overwhelming emptiness her grandfather endured upon the death of his wife, the girl is staggered by the desolation.  Her response is stunning, to herself and others, but her grandfather in his box of a car is still there for her.

From Grandfather and the Moon

by Stéphanie Lapointe

illus. by Rogé

The relationship between granddaughter and grandfather is everything in Grandfather and the Moon.  There may be an extraordinary trip into space by an ordinary girl but even that does not surpass the profound connection between the two as the most important feature of the book.  Hardly effusive, the two still nurture their relationship as you would a fragile glass sphere, taking care with it but not engulfing it.  And even though I never knew either of my grandfathers, I know this young girl and this man who says so much in his actions and impacts her choices.  This must be a relationship very familiar to author Stéphanie Lapointe as her perspective is so intimate and touched with affection.

Award-winning artist Rogé who has illustrated countless French- and English-language books, his own and those of other authors,  uses pencil to evoke both the delicacy and the transparency of the relationship between the two generations in Grandfather and the Moon.  Moreover, the contemplative nature of the story comes out in Rogé's illustrations, from scenes of Grandfather at Lucille's bedside or the young girl's sojourn into space.  The colours are ever muted, with only glints of red, green or blue like stars in an oppressively darkened sky.  Together Stéphanie Lapointe and Rogé ensure that Grandfather and the Moon is loaded in gravitas in both words and art but with twinkles of humour and sweetness.  Because that's what life is generally like.  

All Year Round

by Émilie Leduc

Translated by Shelley Tanaka

Groundwood Books

98-1-55498-411-4

28 pp.

Ages 2-5

August 2015

All Year Round is sure to become a teacher favourite for the teaching of the months of the year and all year round! It’s original French-launguage edition, La ronde des mois (Éditions de la courte échelle, 2012) has already garnered author-illustrator Émilie Leduc much acclaim as a Governor General finalist for illustration in French-language children’s literature, and now, through Shelley Tanaka’s astute translation, All Year Round can be enjoyed by all Canadian children in both official languages.

Before even examining the content of All Year Round, it becomes evident that much effort has been put in organizing the picture book into a visually-appealing and child-friendly format.  Its consistency will first and foremost be a compelling read for teachers and parents to little ones.  There is one double spread for each month of the year.  Except for June and November whose illustrations cover both pages, there is one full-page illustration on the right side of the spread (see October’s spread below) and on the left-hand side there is the free verse accompanying text, titled with the name of the month, and a small complementary artwork.

Émilie Leduc’s illustrations will be immediately identified as soft.  There’s a feel of rich oil pastels with blurred edges, though I read that she actually used coloured pencil on Mylar.  The Mylar paper gives a frosted, translucency to the artwork, perfect for her engaging child (who features in each spread and whose words, spoken in first person, are the basis for the book).  The broad-faced child traipses through the snows of January and February, enjoying a hot chocolate in the latter; celebrating a birthday in March; staying dry in April; communing with flowers in May; cycling in June; swimming in July; sand-sculpting on the beach in August; swinging amongst the falling leaves at the playground in September; costumed with a pumpkin for Halloween; and back to the snows in November and December.  Just like the year, All Year Round comes full circle.

And it’s evident from the text that the young boy finds everything he experiences, inside and outside his home, to be part of a sensory exploration that he enthusiastically relishes.  From his swimming “skin all pruney” in July, or the teasing winds of September, or tromping through the forest “Crunch! Swoosh!” in January, the little boy takes in everything that he sees, feels, hears and shares with his cat, Clementine.

All Year Round will be a welcome teaching tool but enjoy it with little ones as a refreshing exploratory of the senses by a much-loved little boy and cat as they traverse their world together both temporally and spatially.

Naptime

by Iris de Moüy

Translated by Shelley Tanaka

Groundwood Books

978-1-55498-487-9

28 pp.

Ages 2-6

September, 2014

I don't often review translations of books but there are always exceptions and Naptime by French illustrator Iris de Moüy, translated by Shelley Tanaka, is one of them.

Seems the young animals of the savannah are not interested in taking their regular naps.  From the zebra to the hyena, hippo, elephant, lion, rhino and cheetah, the young of the African grasslands each have some excuse or other for why they will not be taking a nap.  The petulance of these creatures is evident in their declarations similar to those echoed by children around the world.  Caregivers have all heard:  "I'm too big"; "I'm not a baby"; "I'm busy"; "I'll take a nap when I need one"; "No way!"; and  "You can can't catch me".  Children, yes.  Naptakers, not.

But a little girl takes it upon herself to get them to sleep, one closed eye at a time.  If frustrated parents are listening, somewhere, she declares that "And that's all there is to it!" but she may just as easily be declaring it for herself, wiping her hands off for a job well done. No more grumpy little ones to deal with now.

Through the few words of each animal's insolent statements, a solid message is sent and, in just as few words, the girl takes up the challenge and wins. One, two, three, done.  Similarly, the illustrations are solid and emotive.   A limited palette of black, yellow, green, and gray with the occasional red above or below defines the heat and heart of the savannah and its occupants.  And the broad strokes of the flora and fauna, as well as the font, are powerful in their simplicity, again much like the landscape Naptime depicts. A mighty message in words and art.

Gustave

by Rémy Simard

Illustrated by Pierre Pratt

Translated by Shelley Tanaka

Groundwood Books

978-1-55498-451-0

56 pp.

Ages 4-7

For release October, 2014

From the title page alone, Gustave evokes a rough darkness with its heavily-inked, coarse lettering and shades of colours with overlays of black.  There's black, black and more black. Sombre and fearful is how Gustave begins, with a little mouse overwhelmed by the loss of his dear friend Gustave when they venture too far from home and encounter a cat.  Gustave will not be returning home with the little mouse whose sorrow is well conveyed by the spare words of Rémy Simard's blunt text:

Gustave won't play with me anymore.
He won't tell me goodnight.
He won't look at me anymore. (pg. 6)

But Pierre Pratt's illustrations, in ink and gouache, are the force by which the story of Gustave is told.  The double-page spreads of artwork, sometimes with few words, if any, overwhelm the story, just as the consequences of the little mouse's actions smother him with sorrow.  It is only in the last half-dozen pages of the story that the colours are able to seep through, ending with a single page of bright artwork opposite a white page of text. It is a bright, hopeful ending in both text and illustration.

Though I may describe Gustave as having a dirge-like quality, it is nothing but brilliant in its masterful picture book story-telling of a mouse grieving the loss of a friend.  I suspect that, even without the unexpected twist at the end, this story could not have been told any better than it has been by Rémy Simard and Pierre Pratt, thankfully translated by Shelley Tanaka so that so many more of us can appreciate it.

Gustave is currently nominated for a 2014 Governor General's Literary Award for Illustration in a French Children's Book. Bonne chance, Pierre Pratt!