Levi's Gift

Written by Kathy Stinson

Illustrated by Ellie Arscott

Nimbus Publishing

978-1-77471-498-0

32 pp.

Ages 3–7

November 2025 

 

Kathy Stinson's latest picture book, beautifully illustrated by Ellie Arscott, tells the story of Levi, a boy who loved to play his violin while his brother Ezra played the accordion. But that was before the war came, and Levi and his family are forced from their home. The yellow star on Levi's shirt tells us more of his tragedy. By the time he is sixteen, the war is over, and his family is gone, as is his home. But he dreams of getting a violin again and making music.

From Levi's Gift, written by Kathy Stinson, illustrated by Ellie Arscott

Frugality and hard work help him buy a violin again and he "poured his great sadness about all he had seen and all he had lost in the war." (pg.9) With time, he emigrates, marries and has a child for whom he plays the beloved Brahm's "Lullaby" that he'd played with his brother. For many years, Levi plays his violin, but when his hands grow stiff and it becomes difficult to play, he stores his violin away.

 

When a call goes out for donations of used musical instruments for a school, Levi hesitantly decides to take his violin out of storage and give it away. When he receives a letter from a little girl who invites him to visit her at her school, Levi learns that his violin and the music played on it have the capacity to heal in many ways.

From Levi's Gift, written by Kathy Stinson, illustrated by Ellie Arscott

Kathy Stinson, award-winning author of picture books, non-fiction, and middle-grade and YA novels, has a lovely connection with stories of the violin (e.g., The Man with the Violin, 2013; Dance with the Violin, 2017), and Levi's Gift is another wistful story of those touched by music and the playing of the violin. But, with Levi's Gift, Kathy Stinson also reminds us of the many losses that happened during the war. For Levi, that violin was more than just an instrument. It was a connection to his past, to his family, to happy times, and more. It was a joyful connection to a time before. To give up his violin, even to a worthy cause, was a challenge for Levi. Yet, that gift begat a new one, with Levi making a new connection and one that related to his past. I was tearful realizing how Levi's story had come full circle with different characters, with a different violin, and in a different place, but with quiet consequence and subtle benevolence. 

Ellie Arscott, who illustrated Night Walk (Sara O'Leary, 2020), A is for Anne (Mo Duffy Cobb, 2023), and The Warmest Blanket in the World (Tamara Levine, 2025), has a lightness to her artwork that works well with gentle stories such as Levi's Gift. Ellie Arscott uses paint and pencil to give context for Kathy Stinson's words, showing us more than just people and place. She gives the reader history and ancestry as well as story, and there's much tenderness reflected in her illustrations. Levi may be an elderly man but making connections with his past and with others is what elevates him. Ellie Arscott's  use of pastel colours, particularly blues and pinks, keeps that softness of feeling and story.

From Levi's Gift, written by Kathy Stinson, illustrated by Ellie Arscott

Through their words and art, Kathy Stinson and Ellie Arscott remind us that music and generosity contribute and communicate beyond the immediate. You never know when a simple act of giving can touch another and in unexpected ways. For Levi, it is magical, even spiritualistic. (Once you see his reaction to the girl's playing of the violin, you'll understand.) I could see Levi's Gift being based on a true story, but, even if it isn't, this story offers hope that sometimes that which is lost returns in a different way to reconnect us to the past and to complete us in the now.

When Rubin Plays

Written and illustrated by Gracey Zhang

Orchard Books (Scholastic)

978-1-338-64826-3

56 pp.

Ages 4-8

July 2023

 

In a small town by a rain forest, there is an orchestra. Rubin's sister Isabel plays in this orchestra, and Rubin would listen through the open windows of their rehearsal space. The music is inspirational and uplifts Rubin. When he asks the maestro if he can play too, Rubin is handed a violin. But the sounds that come out of it when Rubin plays are screechy and howly, and the other young musicians snicker.

From When Rubin Plays by Gracey Zhang

Rubin is instructed by the maestro to practise so that he might be able to play with the rest of the orchestra. First the boy practises quietly at the back of the room. Then, when everyone leaves, he takes himself deep into the forest to practise. Still his violin is "shrill and uneven." But soon he is surrounded by cats who follow his playing, replying to his music with their own howling. 

Back and forth they went, their sounds a leaping crescendo deep into the night.

From When Rubin Plays by Gracey Zhang

When he returns next to the practice room, the young musicians offer Rubin some tips and he continues to play at the back of the room.  But at night, he plays with passion for his feline audience who perform their own music.

When the orchestra gives a concert, Rubin joins them, though he plays "too quietly, too small." But when Isabel encourages him to play, he does so, and an unexpected feline display of sound and dance brings the human audience to their feet. In a musical merger of orchestra, audience, cats and Rubin, harmony and connection are achieved.

From When Rubin Plays by Gracey Zhang

Author-illustrator Gracey Zhang based her story on an image that she had of a boy playing a violin to cats. Learning of a centuries-old history of baroque classical music in small Bolivian towns, Gracey Zhang blended the two into When Rubin Plays. Her story melds the richness that music brings to a child and to a community of both humans and felines while focussing on the passion of a young boy for learning an instrument. Rubin's music might need some refinement but his determination to play, even when only cats are his audience, is paramount. Ultimately, his persistence elevates his playing to connect the boy with the rest of the orchestra and with his audiences, as well as enabling his audiences to connect with each other.

The interactions of child with the music as well as for his listeners is dynamic, and Gracey Zhang's illustrations, primarily ink and paint, lend movement to that dynamism. There's the sounds of the violin playing and the cats' responses to the music that are full of life, but then Gracey Zhang also gives everything the colour of vitality. There is an energy to the musicians, to the people, to the animals that supersedes any skill or lack thereof, and it comes through in the brightness of colours in the clothing and the diversity of felines. When Rubin Plays is a book of life and connection to music and others.

Whether Rubin plays for the cats, with the orchestra, for an audience of people, or for the joy it brings him, there is passion. It's the enthusiasm that comes with finding something that touches you. Rubin's music, whether screechy or melodic, is always full of passion and reminds us all to follow our hearts, even when others may see, or hear, it differently.

Anna Maria & Maestro Vivaldi

Written by Jan L. Coates

Illustrated by François Thisdale

Red Deer Press

978-0-88995-645-2

32 pp.

Ages 6-9

2022

 

Though a fictionalized account of the relationship between historical persons Anna Maria dal Violin (also known as Anna Maria della Pietà) and composer Antonio Vivaldi, Anna Maria & Maestro Vivaldi is a telling story of a child's musicality and a mentorship that galvanized it.

From Anna Maria & Maestro Vivaldi by Jan L. Coates, illus. by François Thisdale

An orphan at the Ospedale della Pietà in Venice, Anna Maria is guided by the school's music director, Maestro Vivaldi. While other girls laugh at her ways, the child finds family and friendship, as well as her voice, in her violin through the music she sees as colours and textures. As a synesthete –"Music paints beautiful colours for me, and shapes"–Anna Maria is encouraged by Vivaldi who calls it a rare gift. Though she is only eight, he places her in the exclusive orphan choir called the Figlie del Coro. Ignoring the disapproval of the older musicians, she thrives, following his instructions–"Let your bow dance delicately, like a bee sipping nectar"–and pours herself into her music.

From Anna Maria & Maestro Vivaldi by Jan L. Coates, illus. by François Thisdale

When the Maestro takes her to see Marco Ricci's landscape paintings, to witness the inspiration for his latest poems which would become his Four Seasons, he decides Anna Maria will be the soloist for the concertos. And when she ultimately performs the masterpiece, her music paints each season as an image rife with colours and textures and heart. She is no longer alone; she has a famiglia musicale.

From Anna Maria & Maestro Vivaldi by Jan L. Coates, illus. by François Thisdale

Historical fiction does not often take a picture book format though it is an inspired configuration for blending the real with the fabricated. We know that Nova Scotian author Jan L. Coates builds her story on the real Vivaldi and Anna Maria but embeds it in speculation of the child's synesthesia–seeing colours and shapes with the music–and Vivaldi's mentorship of her. By allowing Anna Maria's music to grow and her gift to be nurtured, Vivaldi elevates his music along with the child. Anna Maria dal Violin may be known in musical circles, but Jan L. Coates introduces her here as a child with challenges. By focusing on her humble beginnings as an orphan without family, Jan L. Coates inspires young readers to find their passion, ignore the detractors and focus on that which brings joy and accomplishment. Anna Maria had to find her family in her music and she does so successfully, with Vivaldi's help.

I have always said that there is an ethereal quality to François Thisdale's illustrations. He blends acrylic painting and drawing with photography and digitally creates sublime artwork that may be grounded in reality, here in an 18th century Venice, but it has a heavenly nature with its filmy backgrounds. There may be a very real basilica and a charming tuxedo cat ever present, but Anna Maria's music takes her life into the celestial. Her feet may be planted on a patterned floor or rug but, when she sees the music which François Thisdale helps us see, she and her story are elevated to greater heights.

Anna Maria dal Violin may or may not have had synesthesia but her musicality which was nurtured by her relationship with Maestro Antonio Vivaldi is not in question. The two musicians may have been inspired in different ways but, in Jan L. Coates and François Thisdale's story, they will forever be linked as protégée and master, or rather Maestro, and their story will remain as colourful and textured as the music Anna Maria voiced.

Music for Tigers

Written by Michelle Kadarusman

Pajama Press

978-1-77278-054-3

192 pp.

Ages 8-12

April 2020

Art is born of the observation and investigation of nature. (Cicero)

There is art within the pages of Music for Tigers. It's the art that comes from seeing and hearing and knowing a place and its people. Just as she did in her earlier books, The Theory of Hummingbirds (2017) and Girl of the Southern Sea (2019), Michelle Kadarusman delivers us with her art, this time to the island of Tasmania, a land rich with stories, of history, of landscape and of life.

This vacation is getting stranger by the day. Uninvited campers. Extinct bandicoots that aren't extinct after all. Scary-looking spiders that I'm not supposed to be scared of. Odd noises and stranger smells in the night. And what exactly is the real story with the Tasmanian tigers? (pg. 44)

Louisa just wants to play violin and rehearse for a spot with the Toronto Symphony Youth Orchestra. Instead she is shipped off to a bush camp in the remote Tasmanian rainforest to spend six weeks of the Canadian summer with Uncle Ruff, her mother's brother. Everything is new and strange and Louisa fears the animals, the smells, and a place that offers her few comforts.

Because of the remoteness of the family camp, just an assortment of crumbling cabins beside a river, Uncle Ruff takes her to the nearby Eco Lodge for Wi-Fi. Here she meets proprietor Mel and her son, Colin. Colin, a boy whose ASD makes social interactions more challenging, is a superb bushwalking guide, knowing everything about the Tarkine, this remote area of northwest Tasmania. He tells her about the devils and the seemingly-extinct thylacine a.k.a. the Tasmanian tiger, which is not a tiger at all but a carnivorous marsupial that looks more dog-like with stripes on its back. He also shares stories of Tasmania's history as a convict colony, and rumours that Convict Rock, in the middle of their local river, is haunted. Coupled with readings of her great-grandmother Eleanor's journal from 1939 and 1942 and discussions with her Uncle Ruff, Louisa starts to learn what a special place the Tarkine is. Even more extraordinary is that her violin playing may be drawing a thylacine in to listen.

Michelle Kadarusman brings two worlds together in Music for Tigers and shows that they can work in unison. Louisa didn't want to leave the city for the bush, determined that she would not leave her dreams of playing the violin behind, and Uncle Ruff is happy enough to do without the amenities his sister left to enjoy in another country and in the city. Both change.

For once, I don't have my violin. I want to hear the music of the forest instead. I sit and listen to the currrawongs sing their Vivaldi chorus and the rhythmic swish and sway of the towering giants above me. I close my eyes, breathe in the lemon myrtle, and listen carefully. (pg. 168)

Together Ruff and Louisa, with a little help from their friends, work to do good, though sadly they have to do so because of the encroachment of human activities, such as mining and logging, on the natural environment. Music for Tigers is a statement, albeit a songful one, of our impact on the natural world for our own purposes, destroying critical habitats and species. It implores us to step up and put conservation and preservation measures in place before it's too late, when even the music of our efforts won't be enough to save ecosystems and their species.

With Music for Tigers, Michelle Kadarusman reminds us, again, that being human requires much of us but the dividends from benevolence to others, human and not, may be unforeseen but boundless.

Hana Hashimoto, Sixth Violin

by Chieri Uegaki

Illustrated by Qin Leng

Kids Can Press

978-1-894786-33-1

32 pp.

Ages 4-8

2014

Having recently recommended Hana Hashimoto, Sixth Violin to a fellow teacher-librarian looking for picture books about perseverance, and then noting the numerous book award shortlists that have included this book, I was dismayed to realized I have never reviewed this little gem on CanLit for LittleCanadians.  My bad.  This omission is solely due to my negligence and the overwhelming number of great youngCanLit books I choose to read.  Hopefully this post will put some things to right.

During their summer trip to Japan to visit her grandfather, Hana becomes enthralled with the beautiful music he makes.  As the Second Violin in a symphony orchestra, Ojiichan plays the classical pieces of Mozart and Mendelssohn and Bach, but he could also play requests for his grandchildren and recreate sounds of the natural world like crickets, raindrops, and birds.  

Upon their return home, Hana begins to take violin lessons and, though her older brothers laugh at her efforts, she is determined and even signs up to play in the school talent show.  She may practise for her parents and her dog Jojo and even for her grandfather's photo, but she still feels nervous when her name is called, following five previous violinists!  In her mind, Ojiichan's words of encouragement, "Gambarunoyo, Hana-chan", help her to do her best and consequently captivate her audience, even her brothers.

From Hana Hashimoto, Six Violin by Chieri Uegaki, illus. by Qin Leng

Chieri Uegaki's message of trying to do your best is a global one but one that too often gets lost when children are told that they're great at everything that they endeavour.  That is a disservice we commit.  While Hana is never told she's the greatest and she can do anything to which she puts her mind, she chooses to persevere.  Her achievement in the talent show is not the success of many formulaic books that would have her winning or being showered with accolades (thank you, Chieri Uegaki) but rather in challenging herself to get up on stage and make magical music with her violin.  She does this rather successfully, just as Chieri Uegaki and Qin Leng do.  Qin Leng's illustrations have that light touch that works so well with the musical nature of Hana Hashimoto, Sixth Violin, the Japanese cultural landscape, and the little girl with the quiet strength.  

Without going over the top myself, I can sincerely attest to the faultlessness of including Hana Hashimoto, Sixth Violin on lists for the 2015 USBBY Outstanding International Book List, the Cooperative Children's Book Center 2015 Choices and on shortlists for the 2014 Governor General's Award for Illustration, 2016 Shining Willow, and the 2015 Christie Harris Illustrated Book Prize among others.  It seems that everyone appreciates Hana Hashimoto, Sixth Violin.


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I've posted KidsCanPressMovies book trailer for this lovely picture book here.

The Man with the Violin

Written by Kathy Stinson
Illustrated by Dušan Petričić
Annick Press
978-1-55451-565-3
32 pp.
Ages 5-8
August 2013

When Kathy Stinson coupled the story of world-famous violinist Joshua Bell's playing incognito in a Washington subway station with illustrator Dušan Petričić's distinguished artwork, The Man with the Violin became a brilliant portrayal of the sensitivities of children and the sad loss of that wonder by most adults.

Having originally heard Joshua Bell play solo violin for the main character in the movie "Ladies in Lavender" (in which a young Polish violinist is helped by two older British sisters after washing up on the Cornwall coast), I knew how his music could bring an audience to tears.  So it was surprising to learn that, in 2007, Joshua Bell participated in an experiment initiated by the Washington Post in which, wearing the outfit of a street musician (jeans and a baseball cap), Bell played his 1713 Stradivarius for transit goers for 45 minutes.  Only 7 of over a thousand people stopped to watch.  But here is the fascinating statistic:

"There was no ethnic or demographic pattern to distinguish the people who stayed to watch Bell, or the ones who gave money, from that vast majority who hurried on past, unheeding. Whites, blacks and Asians, young and old, men and women, were represented in all three groups. But the behavior of one demographic remained absolutely consistent. Every single time a child walked past, he or she tried to stop and watch. And every single time, a parent scooted the kid away." (Gene Weingarten, Sunday April 8, 2007, The Washington Post. Retrieved from http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html on September 3, 2013.)

Kathy Stinson takes this astounding demographic and tells the story of a child who becomes enthralled by the music that he hears as his mother pulls him along on her way to work.  Dušan Petričić makes the music swirl and swoop in watercolour pastels of blue, purple, pink, green and peach among the black and white drabness of everyday travel of most adults.  The memory of that music continues to soothe Dylan as his day progresses, elevating him and brightening his day, even as the jarring clatter and clang of machines, dishes, voices drone on and on and on, no matter where he is.  Only when he hears the same music on the radio can Dylan get his mother's attention and take her along on his magical musical ride.

While Gene Weingarten and the Washington Post shared this musical experiment in print and in video on YouTube, Kathy Stinson's simple but powerful representation of The Man with the Violin, so subtly but poignantly depicted by Dušan Petričić's illustrations, is a far more convincing message of the capacity of music to enrich our lives and the wisdom of children that is too often and too easily disregarded.