Sing Song Books

Between the lines: how illustrators use lyrics to inspire

PUBLISHED : Tuesday, 11 March, 2014, 10:14am

UPDATED : Tuesday, 11 March, 2014, 10:14am

Annie Holife@scmp.com

My husband and I recently spent some time listening to The Rolling Stones before attending their show in Macau. Our children did not come to the concert, but listening inspired us to expand their repertoire to songs beyond those about boys named Jack, girls named Mary, and farmyard animals.

I don't want to rely on YouTube music videos as the visual accompaniment to new songs, and I am grateful that the book industry agrees.

It's better to use picture books, as singing is a natural form of repeated reading which is highly effective for improving children's reading skills.

Like many young girls everywhere, they have been faithfully belting out Let it Go

In one study cited by Dr Timothy Rasinski, a professor of literacy education, children who were going to be repeating their grade level sang out written lyrics for 30 minutes, three times a week.

This programme continued for 12 weeks, and it yielded a year's worth of progress, meaning that they caught up to their peers.

My three-year-old has two favourites: Kadir Nelson's He's Got the Whole World in His Hands and Paul O. Zelinsky's Knick-Knack Paddywhack. Books like these are the result of award-winning illustrators envisioning and interpreting song lyrics, as well as the message therein.

A spiritual song, He's Got the Whole World in His Hands , the author of which is unknown, invokes a sense of community and togetherness. Both the tune and the lyrics are so upbeat they beg to be belted out and clapped en masse in church or in school.

Knick-Knack Paddywhack, a moving-parts book, is a great interpretation of a humorous song that I have been singing to my children since they were one month old.

I had never been able to conjure up my own images to the words of this song until I saw the book. I was never sure what it meant to be "playing knick-knack", or how the old man "came rolling home".

Zelinsky depicts a different way in which the old man rolled for each time the refrain is repeated. He is well known for The Wheels on the Bus, another sing-song masterpiece of paper engineering.

My six-year-old's favourite sing-song book is Over the Rainbow, illustrated by Eric Puybaret. It includes a CD of the song performed by Grammy award winner Judy Collins.

My daughter loves this rendition of the song, which was originally sung by Judy Garland in the classic film The Wizard of Oz. She always finds something new each time we flip through the pages as we sing, admiring the dream-like images.

We enjoy the illustrations so much that I've already put in a book order for Puybaret's Puff, the Magic Dragon.

My husband's favourite is Bob Dylan's Man Gave Names to All the Animals, illustrated by Jim Arnosky. The richly coloured scenes evoke the primeval world of this Eden-set song.

It includes a CD with the original recording. We never attempt the tune ourselves; we always listen to Bob Dylan's distinct voice as we "read" this book.

My chosen book is What a Wonderful World illustrated by Ashley Bryan, because it is one of my favourite songs. The bright rainbow-hued drawings of multicultural children putting on a puppet show pay homage to Louis Armstrong.

Satchmo's gentle and emotional recording of this song is considered one of the greatest jazz performances of all time.

Even though my daughters aren't quite ready for the Rolling Stones, at least I can proudly state that they've graduated from nursery rhymes to Oscar-winning songs.

Like many young girls everywhere, they have been faithfully belting out Let it Go, the theme song from the animated movie Frozen, at least half a dozen times a day.

Annie Ho is board chairwoman of Bring Me a Book Hong Kong, a non-profit organisation dedicated to improving children's literacy by reading aloud to them. Visit bringmeabook.org.hk

This article appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition as Illustrators right on song for a lyrical awakening

Dictionary Meanings for and by Children

Between the lines: learning the meanings depends on the book

PUBLISHED : Tuesday, 28 January, 2014, 12:18pm

UPDATED : Tuesday, 28 January, 2014, 5:38pm

Annie Ho

"What's 'magical?'" my younger daughter asks. "Magical means muo shu," my elder daughter replies.

When my younger daughter wants to know what something is, her big sister simply gives an English or Chinese translation (depending on what language they're conversing in) rather than provide an actual definition.

My younger daughter, armed with only an English equivalent of a Chinese word or vice versa, somehow figures out their meanings.

I try to extract more from my elder daughter by asking: "And what does muo shu mean?" She replies: "It means magical." This is a drawback of growing up in a bilingual home.

I use the Kingfisher First Dictionary to show my children that there are generally accepted definitions of words.

For example, a button is defined as "a small round thing on clothes, that you push through a hole called a buttonhole to keep your clothes done up". The sun is "the big, bright star that we can see in the sky during the day".

Leading American writer Ruth Krauss cleverly compiled definitions as explained by children in A Hole is to Dig: A First Book of First Definitions, and even more cleverly invited Maurice Sendak to provide accompanying illustrations.

When my younger daughter asks what something is her sister gives the Cantonese translation

This pint-sized book was first published in 1952, and it's amusing to compare these definitions with the modern dictionary versions.

In A Hole is to Dig, "buttons are to keep people warm" and "the sun is to tell you what time it is every day".

Sendak's simple black-line drawings are recalled in Isol's illustrations for Doggy Slippers, another amusing look at what comes out of the mouths of babes.

Both are renowned illustrators: Sendak was the inaugural winner of the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award in 2003, and Isol (the pen name of Marisol Misenta) is the most recent recipient of this prestigious international children's literary award.

First published in Spanish as Pantuflas de Perrito, Doggy Slippers is a book of poems by Jorge Luján. He asked children around Latin America to write about their pets.

Some children described their pets, while others shared how they felt about their animals. Luján curated these writings into poems shaped by these children's thoughts and feelings, with quirky illustrations by fellow Argentinian Isol.

On my bookshelf are the only five books written or illustrated by Isol that have been translated into English. She has published 24 children's books and is also an accomplished recording artist of chamber music and pop songs. Isol has the uncanny ability to capture both the temperament and squiggly lined drawings of children.

At first glance, her illustrations seem unpolished, almost as if they were drawn by a six-year-old. Consequently, the drawings allow a child to grasp the artist's intent. They also give adults a glimpse of life through their childhood eyes.

My favourite poem from Doggy Slippers is the first in the book. It is accompanied by a cartoonish drawing of a pony-tailed, wide-eyed girl looking up towards the reader from a vast and sparse room.

It reads: "I want to buy/a toy poodle/a black/girl/puppy whose name is Olivia./Do you know where she lives?"

Annie Ho is board chairwoman of Bring Me a Book Hong Kong, a non-profit organisation dedicated to improving children's literacy by reading aloud to them. Visit bringmeabook.org.hk

This article appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition as Spread the words with real meaning

Shel Silverstein: Poetry, Runny Babbit, Where the Sidewalk Ends, A Giraffe and a Half, Taiwan Interminds Publishing

Sunday February 12 2012

Rhyme flies when you're having fun: why poet stanza 'bove the rest Annie Ho familypost@scmp.com  As children, poems are our first introduction to language and story. Nursery rhymes and many of the best-loved books for babies and preschoolers tell their stories through poetry's rhythms.  I'm not sure how it happens, but at some point in our adolescence, many of us lose touch with poetry. Beyond school years, poems seem to be confined to two stereotypes: highbrow verses of contemporary poet laureates whose works most of us have never read and sappy verses in store-bought cards for occasions such as Valentine's Day. I loved poetry in school, but have not since explored further than re-reading my decades-old copy of The Norton Anthology of Poetry. Reciting poetry from heart is a talent I lack but dearly covet. I sometimes have trouble recalling the title or poet of even my favourite poems. On the other hand, an astounding selection of Mother Goose nursery rhymes which I have not revisited for more than 30 years pours easily from my lips when I'm playing with my children. To this day, I still remember the Shanghainese children's rhyme that my grandmother taught me.  This Valentine's Day, rather than send your child a card that starts with 'Roses are red, violets are blue...', I suggest picking up a copy of Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends, a beautiful collection of poems illustrated with his signature pencil drawings.  In the United States, it is often cited as the book stolen most from school libraries. Where the Sidewalk Ends stayed on The New York Times best-seller list for a record 186 weeks when it came out in 1974. By then, Silverstein had already published half a dozen collections of poems and stories, and he went on to publish another half a dozen books. Every Thing On It, which came out last year, more than a decade after his death, is among several wonderful books that were published posthumously. The first was Runny Babbit, which, in addition to being a 'very billy sook', took the technical difficulty of poetry-writing to a higher level, with Silverstein transposing the first letters of two words in each line or stanza throughout this collection. I discovered Silverstein in my late 20s when a girlfriend gave me Falling Up for my birthday. At an age when single girls were giving bookish gal pals dating guides or cooking manuals, I curiously examined this collection of eclectic poems. I flipped to a random page, read one very short poem called Stone Airplane, let out a huge guffaw and was instantly hooked:  I made an airplane out of stone ... I always did like staying home. When I became a parent, I witnessed how the young could also enjoy Silverstein's works. Once, my daughter, barely aged three, asked for his rhythmic A Giraffe and a Half to be read aloud over and over again. I have become such a fan I now have all of Silverstein's children's books in both English and Chinese. Taiwan Interminds Publishing fortunately had the interest and conviction to translate these books into Chinese and I am impressed that they skilfully retain the humour and style of the original poems. He wrote about the subject of Valentine's Day, too: LOVE Ricky was 'L' but he's home with the flu, Lizzie, our 'O', had some homework to do, Mitchell, 'E' prob'ly got lost on the way, So I'm all of love that could make it today Accompanying this simple poem from Where the Sidewalk Ends is a pencil drawing of a child holding a 'V' placard.  If only schools would allocate more of their curriculum to reading and writing beautiful poetry and a little less to the complex tasks of factoring polynomials and binding protons with electrons, then perhaps bookstores could finally have a long aisle of books in a new section called 'Poetry for Adults'.  Annie Ho is a board governor of Bring Me A Book Hong Kong, a charity organisation devoted to improving children's literacy through reading aloud to them and providing easy access to the best children's books for underserved communities across Hong Kong.

In My Shopping Bag 2011/08/02

I purchased a lot of books today, totaling more than a nice pair of shoes. Here are some of them:

One copy for our bookshelf, to complement The Bro Code, and one copy as a gift for my husband's Bro who gave him The Bro Code (see earlier post)

This book was mentioned in Cinderella Ate My Daughter (see earlier post), and will complement my copy of The Dangerous Book for Boys, the original concept which inspired this book

I haven't purchased any coffee table books for a while, and this one looks like a good addition to the coffee table, especially since I have a number of Dr. Seuss story-books in English and French (I can't imagine any Chinese translation can capture the magic of Dr. Seuss' poetry, but then, I have an almost complete set of Shel Silverstein in Chinese!)

   

   

These are just some of the Maurice Sendak books I'm trying to add to my new collection.

Rhythm and Rhyme

A few days ago, out of nowhere, my daughter started singing, "Swing low sweet chariot, umma umma carry me home." It's one song out of 3 CDs full of children's songs that she listens to in the car (sung by Raffi, our favorite children's entertainer), and she hasn't listened to music in the car for a few months now. I attribute her recollection to the fact that we've been reading aloud to her for hours a day since she was a baby.

I remember reading somewhere that song lyrics are the foundation for children to learn about words, and to become interested in rhymes, poetry and the magic of the well-written prose.

Recalling songs from my childhood, I'm surprised that, in a primary school in the Vancouver suburbs, our teacher taught us English songs like "Drunken Sailor", American songs such as "It's a Long Way to Tiperary" and Australian songs such as "Waltzing Matilda"; was it just that teacher or was the school curriculum so "cross-cultural"? I'm certain I didn't know the meanings of what I was singing back then, but I loved the way the words rolled out.

I love reading poetry out loud, and nowadays reading children's stories aloud to my daughter also brings me joy. One talent I wish I had: the ability to recite my poems by heart, at least my favorite ones. (Another wished-for talent would be cooking.)



I still have my 1983 edition of The Norton Anthology of Poetry. In recent years, I've tried other poetry collections, including Harold Bloom's The Best Poems of the English Language, and even the latest edition of The Norton Anthology, but they don't compare to the comfort of knowing exactly where to find the old favorites, as well as the tiny thrill of discovering a new poem, in my dog-eared copy.