Analyzing Picture Books--CREEPY PAIR OF UNDERWEAR!

A quick study of the picture book written by Aaron Reynolds and illustrated by Caldecott honor winner Peter Brown. This wonderful little gem is published by Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers.

A short time ago, I posted a brief spiel about turning your negatives into positives. Around the same time, I had attended a writers’ group (of which I’ve been a member for years).

A fellow writer brought up the subject of a picture book she wasn’t crazy about. She said it was too creepy, this book about creepy green underwear. Imagine that––a picture book about underwear.

But the fact that they were creepy, that they glowed, intrigued me. So of course, I read the first few pages on the Amazon “look inside” feature. That’s what convinced me this was a book for my shelf. So I bought a copy.

It just goes to show that one person’s nightmare is another person’s dream. Anyway, I was a little leery I might not like the book after the first few pages. After all, I do trust the judgment of my writing friend. But then there’s that little warped part of me that she probably doesn’t have. The side that thinks glow-in-the-dark underwear would be cool.

And they really are, when you think about it. At least in the context of the book, where the little boy rabbit character is afraid of the dark, and yet trying to act like a big boy. He thought the underwear were awesome during broad daylight at the store. But he wasn’t so crazy about them when they glowed in the dark of his room. A creepy, ghoulish green glow. So he tries repeatedly to get rid of the underwear, but those creepy things keep mysteriously coming back.

That was a cool aspect of the book, but that’s also what I wasn’t sure about it. There is never an explanation as to how these underwear traveled from place to place, but I can see where a little kid would definitely believe it. I couldn’t help but wonder, did some crazy witch cast a spell on them? Or were they underwear left behind from Chucky? How could they just come back by themselves?

I really wanted an explanation to this. Not that I wouldn’t buy into the cursed underwear or magic spells stuff. Of course I would. I just wanted to know what gave these underwear the power to reappear every time the boy got rid of them. They were purchased in a store, not a haunted old castle. A store, so they were made by a manufacturer. So how did the manufacturer make these underwear magical? (Yes, I know I’m over-thinking it, but that’s me.)

Regardless, I’d still recommend the book to anyone for the sheer enjoyment of the story. It’ll make you laugh if you’ve ever been around a child a wee bit afraid of the dark, and yet one who, despite his fear, wanted to act grown up. Maybe that was you, once upon a time.

The thing is, Jasper, the little rabbit, fails again and again to get those creepy underwear out of his life, but he does finally manage it. I’m not going to tell you how. You’ll just have to read the book. Trust me––you’ll love it.

And then as the story goes, once the underwear are gone and Jasper is comfortable back in his plain, white, boring underwear, he goes to bed. In his dark, dark, bedroom. A bit too dark, he thinks. So now he wants the “glowing” underwear back. But it’s too late.

His solution––he goes to the store and makes a major purchase. Now he has oodles of green glowing nightlights all through his room, and so he’s no longer afraid of what might be hiding in the dark. So this little boy turned a negative, creepy underwear, into a positive––a cool night light.

The book runs a couple spreads longer than the standard 32-page picture book, but it’s mostly illustrations, and wonderful ones at that (adorable expressions). My guesstimate is that it’s between 600 and 700 words.

Get the book Creepy Pair of Underwear!  

Happy reading!

Analyzing Picture Books--Grandmother's Pigeon

I've read most, if not all, of Louise Erdrich’s novels. When I saw that this picture book had been published back in 1996 by Hyperion Books for Children, I scooped it right up. I have to admit, I was surprised she had a title out there that I’d missed.

Large, colorful illustrations by Jim LaMarche land on every page. Facial expressions on the characters, as well as the birds, are captivating.

It’s a beautiful story for ages approximately four to eight (in my humble guesstimation) told by a young girl who describes her strange but loving grandmother, and what Grandma left behind when she headed off for a tour by porpoise. What a thing to have on your bucket list.

The book doesn’t come right out and say that Grandma’s stuffed pigeon is responsible for the three eggs that hatch in her old bedroom, but the eggs had to have come from somewhere. With the magical aura that always surrounded Grandma, it seemed not only possible but logical that she’d have a magical stuffed pigeon.

To avoid spoiling the story, one I know adults will enjoy as well as children, I’ll leave off on the plot there. But I will say that Erdrich’s writing is just as magical as the grandmother and pigeon are in her story.

Out of the usual 32-page spread for picture books, fifteen pages have text. Some pages run anywhere from 75 to 150 words with the picture. I would guess there are around 1,200 words in all, possibly up to 1,500. To my delight, that’s a lot more than some of the 400-word picture books more commonly written today.

Erdrich does an excellent job of throwing in a few “big” words to expand a young reader’s mind, or to give a parent the opportunity to sneak in a little explanation while reading to a child. Words like pensively and ornithologist (bird expert) spring up in the book, along with ectopistes migratorius (passenger pigeons). Then, with a beautiful hand at her craft, she weaves in a little history on how the existence of these pigeons phased out.

I think she needed more words in order to tell the story the way she does. She doesn’t leave all the description to the illustrator. She could simply say “curtains” and let the illustrator decide what the curtains look like. But the author doesn’t do that. She chooses a very specific curtain, curtains made of not just lace, but of Irish lace. She also isn’t shy to tell us that there are “three” eggs in the nest found in Grandmother’s room, whereas nowadays with the illustration showing the same information, the word “three” would be slashed right out of the text. Editors would say, “Don’t waste words on what is already shown in the pictures.”

But I appreciate Erdrich’s style. After all, a picture of a lacy curtain would not tell me that it is specifically Irish lace. The added detail gives a stronger sense of Grandma, so it works. The word three isn’t necessary, but it doesn’t bother me either. In fact, taking the word out throws the beautiful rhythm of the sentence off, so I’m glad she left the word in. Maybe that was the author’s intent. You will never read an Erdrich sentence that isn’t spot on in rhythm. Also, Erdrich may have been pulling on the power of three often used in literature. It’s an effective technique.

My favorite sentence in this book is “White moonlight fell in bands through the kitchen windows and led the way out.”

I’m not going to tell you who’s following the moonlight or why, but isn’t it a lovely sentence?

Get the book.

Grandmother's Pigeon by Louise Erdrich, Jim LaMarche (April 15, 1996) Hardcover

 It’s one you’ll come back to again and again.

Happy Reading!

 

 

 

 

 

 

ANALYZING PICTURE BOOKS—THE BEST BOOK TO READ

THE BEST BOOK TO READ was written by Debbie Bertram and Susan Bloom, published by Dragonfly Books, 2008, and illustrated by one of my favorites, Michael Garland. The book has approximately 420 words spread over fourteen out of twenty-five pages. Six pages have four lines of text, seven pages have five lines, and one page has six lines.

THE BEST BOOK TO READ opens with a beautiful picture of a school bus dropping a line of children off at the library, so it starts right where the story is to begin—at the library. There is no time wasted showing a character anxious to go to the library.

The first line has two short sentences, “Hooray,” and “It’s a trip to the library today.” Note the rhyme in hooray and today. The next sentence ends in the word bus, which rhymes with the word used in the last line on the page, two lines (but three short sentences) down.

On the third line, two sentences end in rhyme. “We’ve been specially invited. Our class is excited.”

The next page also utilizes rhyme, but not in the first sentence. The second line rhymes with the fourth line, and the third line rhymes with the fifth.

The variation of rhyme placement intrigued me, first annoyingly and then with appreciation. The words on the second page follow a different rhyming pattern than that of the previous page—no rhyme in the first line, but the second and fifth lines end in rhyme, and the third and fourth lines end in rhyme.

Changing up the rhyme placement in this book makes it read more like a story rather than sing-songy verses, because we quickly see that we can’t stick to any specific pattern for the rhymes.

I have to admit that because rhymes on different pages fell in a sequence that didn’t follow a previous sequence, I sometimes tripped on reading in any lyrical way at all.

But the story itself is entertaining. Different pages show what different books are about, one on bugs, one on baking cakes or desserts, one on magic tricks, and another on dinosaurs, and some on other topics. This is a wonderful way to show a child that there is truly a “best book” for every youngster, regardless of different likes. Personally, I’d have to choose THE MAGIC TRICKS by Harry Huckster. I was disappointed to look for this one on Amazon only to see that it doesn’t exist—the titles are made up. I guess I would’ve figured that out had I been interested in the book, MAKE IT YOURSELF, by Martha Muffins, or the book about dogs written by Professor Barker. But I thought Harry Huckster might be a neat pen or stage name by a real author and magician.

I don’t think this will be a problem for children, because each book covers a different interest, and there will be real books on the same topic that grandparents can check out for their little darlings, perhaps some with just as beautiful of pictures.

Michael Garland’s illustrations are animated in such a way as to give life to what’s going on in some of the make-believe books shown, such as showing a boy magician holding a hat with a rabbit jumping out of it. THE BEST BOOK TO READ will definitely entice children to want to make a trip to the library, so, grandparents, I suggest only reading it when you have the spare time to venture downtown.

Just as it would happen in real life, a few children in the story want the same book. The authors address the problem right away, mentioning that often libraries have more than one copy of certain books.

There is also an illustration showing children raising their hands, everyone who wants a library card. I would’ve liked something either said or shown in the illustration about the excitement the children feel when they hold that new card—shiny and smooth—for the first time. I know my kids felt important having their very own library cards.

Still, this is a good picture book and one we can learn from. The neat thing is that children will learn something too, and yet it doesn’t feel or read like any sort of lesson at all.

The same authors wrote THE BEST PLACE TO READ, which was published in 2003 by Dragonfly Books. This first book also used the same illustrator, Michael Garland. The same style is used, but this first book shows a main character traipsing through the house room by room, looking for the best place to read. The table is sticky, springs poke through Grandpa’s chair, and big sister’s stereo makes another room too noisy. Finally, (and adorably), the child settles on Mom’s lap. What a nice and realistic way to settle the dilemma.

Consider the rhyme placement in your picture book and question yourself on the reason behind the decision. Do you want the listener to focus mostly on the lyrical beat, or do you want that focus shared more equally with story content and plot?

Happy writing!

ANALYZING PICTURE BOOKS--TREASURE

TREASURE, written and illustrated by Suzanne Bloom and published by Boyds Mills Press, Inc., 2007, is approximately 30 pages with 13 of those pages accounting for the 97 or so words.

Though this book is already seven years old, I believe it’s a classic that will be around a while. The illustrations show the personality of the characters so well that I fell in love with the goose on page one.

The book opens with a polar bear silently studying a piece of paper, and the goose assumes right away that the paper must be a treasure map and that the bear is looking for treasure. For the first half of the book, the bear doesn’t speak. All dialogue is by this excited goose fiving voice to how he/she immediately wants to join the hunt for treasure. The goose asks a series of questions, and just like a child, never waits for the answer before shooting off another question.

After they go searching for treasure and find none, the goose is disappointed–until the bear finally speaks. The bear explains that they did find treasure, because they found a friendship between the two of them.

What a beautiful message to give children. The author has done a wonderful job with the text matching the illustrations, which are so delightful I’d love to have them pinned on my wall even if there were no words.

To me what makes this book the most successful, as far as the writing goes, is how the text shows the personality of the goose, the goose’s excitement to start an adventure before even waiting for answers to his/her questions. Besides the illustrations showing the antics of the goose and that adorable little happy face, Bloom gives wonderful dialogue by the goose, saying Yo ho ho!, which adds to the feel for the goose’s excitement.

Not a lot of words were needed in the story, because the illustrations fully show what’s going on with each question the goose asks.

Though this book has wonderful action in the plot–much needed in a picture book–it’s the personality of the goose that made me fall in love with this particular story. If you can get a reader to love your character from line or picture one, you’ve already put the reader in the mood to delight in your story. The fact that it is a good story (not just because the reader is in a good mood) only makes it better for the reader in the end.

Happy Writing!

 

 

 

ANALYZING PICTURE BOOKS—THAT'S GOOD! THAT'S BAD! ON SANTA'S JOURNEY

Analyzing picture books—THAT’S GOOD! THAT’S BAD! ON SANTA’S JOURNEY, written by Margery Cuyler, published by Henry Holt and Co., 2009, and illustrated by Michael Garland. This picture book is 30 pages, 16 with text, and has roughly 470 words.

Like Cuyler’s other THAT’S GOOD! THAT’S BAD! books, this story is told in a specific style, using contradictions told between the narrator and an invisible listener throughout. Every time a scene is narrated, it’s followed with—That’s good (or That’s bad)—and the immediate response contradicts the statement—No, that’s bad! (or No, that’s good!)

Note: the second statement, the contradiction, always ends in an exclamation mark. This adds to the tension the contradiction creates.

The book opens with Santa climbing into a sleigh and kissing Mrs. Claus good-bye. The illustration shows happy faces on Santa and his wife and a half dozen elves. The reader thinks everything looks good. But then the last sentence on the page is, “No, that’s bad!”

Naturally the reader is going to want to turn the page to see why something that looks good, is actually bad. Cuyler uses what is expected to deliver what isn’t expected. When you turn the page, you pick up with the notion that ended the previous page—the idea something bad is about to happen. So here we see and read that the wind is so bad that Santa has to park the sleigh for a while, and he might not get all of the presents delivered.

Readers will agree this is a bad situation. But right after the text reads—Oh, that’s bad—the text says, No, that’s good! Readers are going to wonder how this can be good, so they have to turn the page. Who wouldn’t?

Upon turning the page again, we again pick up where the previous page ended, with the notion that this is good. The illustration and text work together (illus. giving details not in text) to show us why this is good, and the new text, reads—Oh, that’s good. But again, this comment is followed by, No, that’s bad!

Tension, tension, tension. Cuyler never lets up on it.

No way could a reader resist turning the page to find out how this good thing can really be bad. Turn that page NOW!

The book is beautifully illustrated with large colorful pictures that always tell more of the story. To enhance the narration, the author uses sound-effect words. There’s “SMOOCH” in large bold font when Santa kisses Mrs. Claus, “WHOOSH” to give noise to the wind when the sleigh takes off, “SLIPPITY-SLOP” when the reindeer slide across the ice, and “CRASH” when the reindeer barrel ahead into a chimney. Many noise-words are used throughout the story, and a happy ending winds up the tale when the last page ends with, Oh, that’s good, followed by, No, that’s TERRIFIC!

What a wonderful book to show youngsters that any given situation might not be exactly as it seems.

Happy writing!

 

 

Analyzing Picture Books, more to say on THIS IS NOT MY HAT.

My January 25 post about Jon Klassen’s book, THIS IS NOT MY HAT, prompted two responses from readers who didn’t like the message given in the book.

I’m guessing my mention of how cute I thought the rationale the little fish used to justify stealing the hat didn’t help. Thank you so much for your comments. I do appreciate and respect your different views, but at the same token, I stand my ground. Naturally, I would not want to read a book that might encourage a small child to take something that didn’t belong to him, or to teach him to rationalize theft, or that makes stealing sound like something cute and adventurous.

But I firmly believe all kids, especially those with a sibling, will at sometime sneak a big brother or sister’s toy without permission; therefore, this book might let a child who’s feeling guilty see that he’s not the only one who has made a mistake. And he will see (through this nonthreatening story) that in the end, crime doesn’t pay. The culprit gets caught.

When evaluating this book, here are some questions to consider: Is showin g someone doing something wrong all this book does and is that the only thing the author intended? What other ways does this story speak to a reader? Is the message really all negative?

Consider that last question when you go back and reread the end—the little fish didn’t get away with it (and there is no proof he got mangled by the big fish or anything gory, but just a picture of the big fish coming back out of the tall weeds wearing the hat that had been stolen from him.)

Maybe he simply took it back. Or, maybe the big fish asked for his hat back and then the little fish shivered a bit and gladly returned it. (Much like having a big brother demand the return of his remote control race car.) Little brother is probably going to return it.

The interpretation of the ending is expertly left to the reader, and I think it would make a good discussion between an adult reader and the listening child.

A quote from Ann Whitford Paul: A picture book is a book for people who can’t read.

Klassen’s story doesn’t pound a message into the reader; he tells an entertaining story that promotes thought. It’s much better than giving kids a lecture on why they shouldn’t take something that belongs to them, because the story is talking about somebody else. A little fish. But in discussing what happens in the end, the non-preachy message (disguised in an entertaining tale organically) will seep into the child’s subconscious in a way that shows why taking something that isn’t yours isn’t good.

Further, if the reader leads the discussion in a positive way, perhaps suggesting that the big fish asked, with no violence, for the return of his hat, and the little fish relented, then doing the right thing will blossom in the child’s mind. A reader might mention to the child, what do you think the little fish is doing now? Do you think he’s sitting in the weeds feeling a little embarrassed? This would be my conclusion, and who’s going to want to do something they suspect will cause them embarrassment?

My grandchild, however, would wittingly guess that the little fish is now in “fish jail.”

A family big on science might go into a discussion on the difference between people and mammals. The big fish would probably eat the little fish. Not so with people.

On a couple other notes, consider authenticity and how a child can relate to this book. Would it seem more realistic to show a main character who never does anything wrong, the perfect little fish swimming around, never tempted or lured into mischief?

 I didn’t raise kids like that. Mine invariably touched the knickknack they knew they shouldn’t be near, started flipping through a paperback with clumsy fingers (yes, they ripped a few), and slipped a cookie into their pockets when I wasn’t looking.

I’m sure they’d be able to see themselves in Klassen’s books.

Children will see what it’s like when a character makes a mistake. Everyone makes a few, and everyone learns from them. Should life be any different in a picture book?

To me, this book is perfect to give to a little sister who thinks about hiding her brother’s Buzz Lightyear figure. She might think twice, and though she might feel a little guilty hearing this story, because she already took his crayons, she’ll know she isn’t alone in the world. Other kids make mistakes too.

So what will she learn from this book?

That she’s normal, and that it’s best to leave her brother’s belongings alone.

That’s what I see in this book: a character a child can relate to, rather than one so perfect no child would think, This character is just like me, or, I did that once.

I’m glad Jon Klassen wrote for kids like mine.

            Some children learn more by coming through the back door to a lesson, seeing the wrong done and the result of their bad choices. I think I was one of these kids.

            So, tell me readers, what do you think? I’d love to hear more thoughts on this, whether for or against Klassen’s theme and how he handled it.

            Now, for those of you who considered this book a revenge story, watch for my future post about one of Roald Dahl’s books, which covers revenge in the most delightful and humorous way. Who better to deliver such a story?

Happy Writing!

Note: I did not see this as a story of revenge, but more as a story of justice. I did not picture the end with violence or vengeance, but I did picture the big fish getting the restitution of reclaiming his hat, so justice prevailed. And though I did see that there was a consequence to the little fish’s action, I did not imagine it was violent or circled vengeance. Really, I think the little guy saw the big fish coming and immediately offered up the hat. I always gave my big sister her doll when she came for it. J

Analyzing Picture Books—THIS IS NOT MY HAT

THIS IS NOT MY HAT by Jon Klassen, published by Candlewick Press, 2012, is approximately 200 words and spread over 32 pages, 18 with first-person text (and illus.) and 14 with pictures only. Out of the pages with text, 14 have only a single line; some just a clause rather than a complete sentence.

There is no dialogue throughout the book, but using first-person narration, it feels and sounds like dialogue.

The book opens with an illustration of a tiny fish swimming in a large stretch of dark water,  wearing a hat. It’s easy to wonder what’s up with this cute little guy. The first page with text (Pg. 2) grabs the audience because it’s an admission of doing something wrong—stealing a hat.

The next spread with text doesn’t bear the load of winning over the reader alone, even though we already know the little fish did something underhanded. The illustration takes a bow, showing a humongous fish who is the hat’s true owner. It isn’t hard to empathize with the little fish, knowing there’s a chance he may get caught by such a big opponent.

But the little fish is cocky and thinks he won’t get caught. The rationale is adorable because it’s that of a child—the idea that if you do something wrong, the person you wronged won’t know you did it.

Klassen uses more childlike logic when the little fish explains that even if the hat owner knows who stole his hat, he’ll never find the culprit. 

The story increases in tension because Klassen ups the probability of the little fish getting caught. Remembering the size of the huge fish, readers can’t help but feel for the little one when a witness sees him and promises not to give his whereabouts. After that, through illustrations, we see the double-crossing witness direct the big fish to the hiding place. Talk about tension—yikes!

One way Klassen keeps the mind-frame of a child while increasing tension is through repetition of specific words or ideas. The first line is, This hat is not mine. The next sentence—I just stole it—reemphasizes the fact the hat doesn’t belong to the narrator, while simultaneously giving us more information: how did he get the hat?

The word “stole” is used again in the only sentence on the next page: I stole it from a big fish. So again, the fact the hat doesn’t belong to the narrator is reemphasized (reminding us what’s at stake—getting caught by a BIG fish), and again the reader is getting more information: stole it from whom?

Moving along, the little fish narrates that the big fish was asleep when it happened. The page that follows this reemphasizes it by stating: And he probably won’t wake up for a long time.

On the next two pages, along with illustrations, repetition is used again when the narrator says, And even if he does wake up, he probably won’t notice that it’s gone.

So, in this spread, the words “wake up” are purposefully echoed along with the reminder that the little fish has someone else’s hat. And here we have no doubt that the narrator thinks he’s going to get away with this little misdeed. It’s cute and realistic, but because of the reminder, readers suspect the little fish will most certainly get caught, despite his confidence.

What could happen when angering such a big fish? This is a question that will haunt the reader until the end of the story.

Klassen furthers the tale with another statement of the little fish’s rationalization. The little fish decides the hat was too small for the big fish anyway, and it fits the little fish so it should be his.

What is not told in the end is shown in the illustrations. A double-page spread gives a visual of the little fish entering a cluster of thick weeds, but he’s not seen coming back out. Then the big fish’s tail is swimming into the thicket of weeds, and the last picture is the big fish swimming away, wearing his hat.

I admire the absence of text on those last few pages, because it enlists the listener to examine how the story ends by following the sequence of illustrations and drawing conclusions.

Who could not love this book? The story not only beautifully portrays the heart of a child, rationalizing a misdeed, but I t speaks to all of us. Everyone has, at some point, tried to justify doing something they probably shouldn’t have done. It’s human nature. And when a writer can capture human nature so precisely while maintaining a child’s world, he’s got a successful picture book.

Happy writing!

 

Analyzing Picture Books—GOOD LUCK BABY OWLS

GOOD LUCK BABY OWLS by Giles (writer) and Alexandra (illustrator) Milton, published by Boxer Books, 2012, is spread over 25 pages, 17 with third-person text (and illus.) and nine with pictures only. There are approximately 240 words, with a handful of them hyphenated. The first two pages are narration, setting up the scene. The remaining pages of text are composed of dialogue, except for three. So, nearly two-thirds of the text is dialogue.

Picture books cannot afford to waste a single word, and the words should not do the work that will be revealed in the illustrations. In other words, you must separate words and pictures in your mind, and write only what can’t be shown in the illustrations. Thoughts, sounds, and dialogue won’t work as pictures and therefore make up most of the picture book text.

This story is about two baby owls in a hurry to grow up, wanting to learn to fly, and a patient daddy guiding them along the journey.

The story opens with a strong sense of setting: a chilly winter, silent night. In addition to telling us about the “frost-coated silence,” the author reemphasizes the stillness by stating that all is “quiet,” in the “big dark barn,” and then surprises us with a squeakity-squeak. Children always enjoy funny or interesting noises when someone reads aloud to them. That, coupled with a good dose of dialogue, is a good recipe for a picture book. But that’s not all a new writer needs.

After the opening, the author delivers many exchanges of dialogue to set up the characters (two baby owls – the source of the squeaks – and their daddy), and the problem (baby owls want to fly right now). Through the lively  voices, we can hear the earnest longing of the baby owls and Daddy’s loving patience.

How else does Giles Milton bring this story to life?

He uses a simple plot structure: (1) Baby owls want to learn to fly (2) Daddy tells them they have to wait until they are stronger (3) They eventually succeed in their goal.

While revealing the story problem, the author leads us to bond with the characters by using specific voices of the baby owls begging, saying please, and trying to convince Dad that they are ready. Hearing a child beg is something all children can relate to, because they’ve done it, and that all adults will smile about (or shake their heads) because it is so familiar. In this way, the author establishes a universal familiarity, and realistic family dynamics.

At this point, the reader and listener(s) are anxious to see if or when Daddy will let his feathered little babies fly. Unlike in stories for older children, where the child must figure out a solution on his or her own, this picture book allows for Daddy giving advice. He tells the baby owls that they must wait until they are stronger, and then they can fly.

Now the baby owls have a goal, something to work toward. With carefully selected words – “after days and days and weeks and weeks” – the author shows time passing. During this period, the baby owls are determinedly working toward their goal. They are eating, stretching, and flapping their wings, a great form of exercise for baby owls, I imagine. This time of planning and exercising to grow stronger is the journey of the story.

So we see the baby owls taking Daddy’s advice and put their own effort into achieving their goal. Then the time the baby owls have been working toward comes. Daddy announces that they are ready. In a single sentence, the author tells us the babies are suddenly afraid. But they do proceed. They’ve done the work; now comes the reward. Daddy basically tells his children that they can now go anywhere; they are ready to see the world. A sort of graduation is sensed by the reader, a satisfaction that a goal has been achieved.

For the ending, Daddy wishes the baby owls good luck, but reminds them to come back soon – a gratifying and hopeful ending, because we all want our children to come back and visit after they’ve moved from home.

(*Note – I haven’t yet figured out why there is no comma in the title, and yet there is a comma following “Good Luck” on the last page. There must be a reason, but it evades me.)

The plot structure is simple, but the specific way the author has brought these characters to life with distinct voices and familiar but uniquely drawn characteristics (anxious children and loving, patient father/instructor) is one that will stay in the hearts of listeners, readers, and writers alike. The dialogue gives a personal feel to the members in this owl family, and sympathetic, practical and wholesome insights into the human condition.

Utilizing fun sounds and a bulk of dialogue when you craft your picture book will give you a good start. Having a specific dilemma and method for the characters to attain a goal will add to it. Now you just have to give your story the kind of huggable personality that the Miltons did in theirs. Good luck, Newbie Writers.