1. Reading Reflections
Picture Book
The book I chose, Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type, I found on the shelf in my library dedicated to kids
at age 5. Though I can see an advanced 5-year-old reading this book, I thought some of the subject
matter and vocabulary would go over a kid’s head. There’s one passage in particular: “Since Duck was a
neutral party, he brought the ultimatum to the farmer.” I am doubtful that children around age 5
understand even the concept behind the word “ultimatum,” let alone recognize, read and understand
the word itself. That the typing the cows do is on a typewriter also strikes against the approachability of
the books for children. I like that the book is a satire of labor relations, but the forcing of the concept
into a picture book doesn’t really work. It doesn’t have the elegance of the books we brought to class,
Where The Wild Things Are and Knuffle Bunny, which in 32 pages create likable, meaningful characters.
The art is nice, though I get the feeling that some of the art was rushed; though the book alternates
movement and stillness in the art, the compositions are a little too subtle for a children’s book. The eye
is not drawn through the paintings easily, and some compositions feel forced until you notice that the
artist intended to create perspective. It’s a nice book in all, but probably would best be appreciated by
readers a bit older than 5.
Easy Reader
I chose The Berenstain Bear’s Sleepover for my easy reader. I loved the Berenstain Bears when I was
little, so that colored my choice, but the book is a good example of the examples we talked about in
class of short, declarative sentences and congruent illustrations. Some of the longest words were
“Audience,” “laughed,” and “tripped,” which can easily be figured out from context. There are some
parental bonuses, too, with the name of the family whose cubs sleep over being Bruin, or bear. It was a
very simple story that ended a bit quaintly, with the bear parents falling over, fast asleep from running
after the children all night. The back of the book has a code for the books that “I Can Read!”, the
umbrella publishing company, puts out—this is one of the lowest level books, and it shows in the
writing. With that, it is well-done, and would probably be a good companion with the Cat in the Hat, as
discussed in class.
Chapter Book
For this, I chose the Graveyard Book. I know that this is technically a scifi/fantasy book, but since it won
the Newberry, and as it is aimed at younger readers rather than older, I will include it in this section. I
will probably put this book on my reluctant readers list. It is very chronological, with the point of view
very rarely stepping outside the head of Bod, the main character. There are a few interstitial passages
about the Jacks, but those are rather well-explained and planned for. I enjoyed the slow realization that
Bod’s guardian, Silas, is a vampire, and the confrontations with the old man in the shop and the ghouls
begins to set up the reader for more unpleasantness ahead with the homicidal Jacks. The Sleer, arguably
the most villainous character, is also the most relatable; though ancient, powerful, scary and hungry, the

2. Sleer most wants companionship. The parallel romances, or perhaps proto-romances, with Liza and
Scarlett, were very enjoyable and yet they could fly over the heads of readers who don’t want romance
in their books. The setting of the graveyard is fascinating as well, with Bod’s family of ghosts and colorful
neighbors.
The Giver by Lois Lowry
Jonas is a boy in an extremely orderly world. Every family in his community has exactly 2 children; every
child has exactly one job assigned to them for life; and every action is presided over by the Book of
Rules. Jonas enjoys his place until he gets his job assignment: being the Receiver of Memory for the
community. The former, mysterious Receiver, now titled The Giver, helps Jonas see the flaws of his
perfect world and to fight back against the order imposed on the community.
The linear, chronological plot works in tandem with the emotional reveals of the story--the reader learns
the restrictions of the community, such the fact that the community has no sunlight or snow, or that no
one can see color, as Jonah does. The conflict of the narrative, that of a newly-emotional and pubescent
Jonah fighting against his non-emotional, oppressive town, can easily reflect the struggles of children in
late childhood. Trying to reconcile a sheltered childhood, traditionally featuring loving and supportive
parents and small communities such as churches, with new realizations about an apathetic large-scale
community culture, such as one's city or state, can provide common ground with Jonas for children
reading.
Even though the plot is tight, some holes are left in the story that readers may find diminish enjoyment.
Most of these come from the mechanics of memory in the novel. How are memories transmitted by
touch, and why do they return back to the community were they originate if the Receiver leaves? How
can one move differently in a memory each time one thinks of it, when memories must be fixed? These
holes may never bother some other readers, and the strength of the allegory--that one must remember
the past of one’s own community—can engross even the most grizzled sci-fi fan. Small details of the
environment in the books may be Othering to some readers--the author expects children reading to
know something about being in snow enough that not knowing what a sled is becomes a tragic loss, and
islands are "out there, somewhere" and not in the experience of the characters. The ending is also
ambiguous as to whether the characters are going to be saved or if they die of exposure, which may be
upsetting to some readers. Even with these problems, the book is a great introduction to the more
maturely-themed books of YA fiction, and has an emotional punch that will surely keep readers hooked.
Sci-fi/Fantasy books
I read The Lightning Thief, by Rick Riordan.
Percy Jackson, the protagonist of The Lightning Thief, is a typical fish-out-of-water in this book. He
discovers that he is the child of a Greek God and must stay at a supernatural summer camp to keep
Greek monsters of legend from attacking him every waking moment. He meets new friends in what I like
to think of as the “Harry Potter mold”: the protagonist, a sensible girl who keeps his actions in check,

3. and a comic-relief male friend. Though further into the series this classification falls apart, the
similarities are enough to either annoy or spur reading. I liked how, in the beginning of the book, it
seemed that all the protagonists were disabled in some way: Grover “walks funny,” Percy has severe
dyslexia, and his teacher is wheelchair-bound. These are all explained as being caused by magic: Grover
walks oddly because he’s disguising his satyr’s hooves; Percy’s teacher is really the legendary centaur,
Chiron, whose wheelchair magically hides his horse half; and Percy is dyslexic only when reading English,
because he has the inborn ability to read Ancient Greek. I would really have liked to have seen actually
disabled heroes for once, but I can’t say that I’m displeased with the series for it.
I do have a problem with the Greek gods being described as “following Western Civilization” throughout
the ages, which means they are always at the center of it. The book tells us they have moved from
Greece to Rome to London to New York. This excludes a huge portion of potential readers, for one. It
makes it seem these cities were more “civilized,” not what they were—the most powerful parts of a
European empire. It also ignores that the Byzantines, whose civilization lasted into the Enlightenment,
considered themselves Western. In the book, there is also only one afterlife, ever—the Greek one. Non-
western people don’t seem to exist. All of this is very exclusionary and protectionist of Western and
American culture, when all that was really needed to explain why Greek Gods live in New York could
have been that the gods take vacations.
Information Books
For this I found the book “Explorabook” by John Cassidy and “Exploring the Cultures of the World:
Japan”.
Explorabook held an important part of my childhood, so I cannot look at it with an unbiased eye. In
addition to being informational, the book holds ideas and materials for many experiments with mirrors,
hair dryers, and other household objects. It was from this book that I learned that stars appear to have
points because our corneas are scratched, and that the human eye wants to turn upside-down things
right-side-up so much that it ignores features turned the wrong way on an upside-down face. For
parents, there are hilarious little asides that kids surely won’t get, but won’t detract from the enjoyment
of the book. One of them is a little side panel that tells kids to “tune in next week!” with a picture of Dick
Tracy. Perhaps most adults now wouldn’t get the reference to the comic-turned-radio-show, but still I
enjoyed it. The book itself holds a mirror and a scratched piece of plastic to do experiments with light
refraction, and facts about bacteria, light waves, magnets, and optical illusions. The book sources these
only in the acknowledgements, not within the book itself—though given the conversational tone of the
book, footnotes would have weighed it down unnecessarily. The book seems to be aimed from ages 8
up, but I could not find an age recommendation on the book itself.
The second book I read, “Exploring the Cultures of the World: Japan”, was a little more elementary in
tone. Amazon recommends it to grades 4-6, which I think is a little too old for the extremely simplistic
tone and explanations of the book. The book authoritatively declares things about Japan, such as “The
discipline and simplicity of Zen is seen today in almost every Japanese art.” The tone is a bit
condescending and simplistic—the Japanese have Zen, therefore it is in everything they do. This neatly
discounts, of course, all video games, manga, and anime that Japan produces that glorifies hedonism or
is beautiful in gaudy ways. The sources are not listed, but the proofreader is, which puts alarm bells in
my head. The author says in her author’s note that she prepared by eating Japanese food, talking to
waiters in Japanese, and listening to Japanese music. I was a little taken aback—does this author have
no concept of cultural imperialism or how awful it sounds to try to write about a culture based on the

4. strength of its food? I was highly disappointed in this book and I would not stock it in any library—the
lack of sources alone, when talking about an entire culture, makes it suspect, but the incredible
condescension of it alone without any justification overrides what little academic value it may have.
Fairy/ Folktale Books
For this I read the Brown Book of Fairy Tales, collected by Andrew Lang, and The Illustrated Book of
World Myths, by Phillip and Mistry.
As I said in class, the Brown Book, and any of the Fairy Books that Lang collected, are probably best
given to children with disclaimers attached. They are fairly multicultural but very racist. The antagonist
of the first story—who causes harm to several nations and royal families through his evil, lying ways—is
a black man, described as being darker than night, who is eventually drawn and quartered to much
fanfare. There are other stories from “savage” nations where the darker character, whether it is a man
or an animal, is inevitably the villain. There is also condescending speech about different cultures and
races, with asides like “as those people are wont to do” about eating live birds and the like, while
European fairy tales are valorous or ridiculous, not how people usually are.
The second book I read was the Illustrated Book of Myths, which was notably absent of all the
xenophobia of Lang. This is a DK publication, and I love the way that DK lays out its pages—mostly white
space, with cultural artifacts and explanations from each time and culture presented. Native American
tribes are presented as separate and distinct entities, not lumped together under “Native Americans”
without distinction, and the same with different African nations and ethnicities. There is still a heavy
emphasis on Western culture, with Greek and Roman myths presented in the same subcategory with
only one non-Eurasian story.
Poetry Books
For this assignment, I chose “Poetry for young people: William Carlos Williams” and “Awful Ogre’s Awful
Day.” I found both in the children’s department of my library under their poetry section.
I was very surprised to see William Carlos Williams included in the collection as a children’s poet. I know
from my days as an undergrad that Williams aimed to rebel in his poetry against the overwrought
stream-of-consciousness poetry from the likes of Joyce and Eliot. Seeing him presented to kids as a
stand-alone, friendly figure is a little odd. I also find his poetry not to be set aside lightly, but to be
hurled across the room with great force, so I was interested in how they would make his dreck
approachable. The book presents his poems as-is, which is not hard, considering the longest is hardly
200 words, alongside brief explanations of the themes and many oil paintings of the subjects of his
poems. The illustrations are far too small to be really effective, I thought. Some lack details explicitly
stated within the poem, such as a poem, Late for Summer Weather, which describes a couple walking
and, in detail, what they wear, while they are depicted in shadow in the illustration. In all, though, this
might be what haters of Williams like me may need to hate him less; seeing an explanation of “The Red
Wheelbarrow” was enlightening. I’m still unsure of how useful this is as a children’s book, but it may
appeal to readers who want a dash of color with their reading, not a whole picture book.

5. In “Awful Ogre’s Awful Day,” we see an ogre whose absolutely loves being awful. He likes smelling gross,
insulting people (which, in ogre, is a complement), frightening villagers, and beating up relatives as a
hearty hello. I loved the changing tempo of the poems to the mood of the storyline—Awful Ogre’s
poems about himself and his qualities are all a bit long, with complex rhythms and longer sentences
over many stanzas, but mealtime poems are short and staccato, while his love poem to a fellow ogress is
flows with rhyming couplets. I love the illustrations, too. Awful Ogre is a green-haired, green-eyed
Cyclops who absolutely loves his disgusting, mean life, and his absolute enthusiasm for trouble comes
out in every page. The illustrations are fabulously detailed, too, which means Awful Ogre’s breakfast of
Scream of Wheat is dutifully laid out, as well as many other background details not mentioned in the
poem. This would be a great book for little boys who think that poems are girly and stupid, and may
even be for transitional readers who need in-depth illustration to get eager about the subjects they
read.