Tropes in "The Chupacabra Ate the Candelabra"

At one point or another, most writers researching, exploring the possibilities of their craft, or simply procrastinating end up on a site about narrative tropes, such as TV Tropes.

I take it as a badge of honor that The Chupacabra Ate the Candelabra now has an entry. (My bar for badges of honor is not necessarily rigorous.)

There are so many tropes in storytelling and I didn't consciously employ any of the ones named at that link—doubtful I could have even named any of the ones at that link—except for "Shout-Out." I love "Balloon Belly" and "Big Shadow, Little Creature."

I find it curious that "Dedication" is classified here as a trope. Does this site also consider other standard elements of books (table of contents, index, flap copy) tropes?

Your life is nonfiction

Some kids think nonfiction is boring.

I don’t blame them. Some adults think so, too, and some nonfiction is boring. Then again, so is some fiction. So why do kids more commonly dismiss nonfiction?

At least part of the reason is that children’s nonfiction was often written without regard for prose. But starting a book with the date and place of a notable figure’s birth is, in most cases, a thing of the past (historically and literarily). Now some readers don’t give writers (nonfiction or fiction) till the end of the first page to engage us. We don’t even give them to the end of the first paragraph. We expect to be grabbed by the first sentence.

We are strict. Or we should be.

Modern readers want writers of any kind of book or article to wow us not only with complex characters and a propulsive plot but also with lyrical language. As I have written here before, it’s not enough to have a good story; you need a good story, well told. (Source: my college film theory professor Tom Doherty.) Nonfiction, like life, is more interesting when it’s nonlinear and unpredictable. Yes, that makes it messier, but messy makes for better drama. Messy is not boring.

Fact-after-fact nonfiction: out.

Narrative nonfiction: in.

So when kids tell me that nonfiction is boring, I ask them what they do first thing Monday morning, in school but before class starts. They all say the same thing: we talk to our friends. I ask about what. They all say the same thing: what we did over the weekend. Then I always say the same thing.

That’s nonfiction.

What you do is a true story. Your life is nonfiction. And if you’re talking about it, you must like nonfiction more than you think you do.

The unpredictable (yet welcome) thing about that is that they see that they agree.

Nonfiction picture book narrative trajectory

I didn’t consciously notice this while writing it, but Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman doesn’t follow a traditional nonfiction picture book story arc.

Conventionally it’s this:

• young protagonist finds calling
• slightly older protagonist struggles to pursue calling
• adult protagonist ultimately succeeds

Bill the Boy Wonder rolls this way:

• slightly older protagonist finds calling
• slightly older protagonist struggles to pursue calling
• older protagonist succeeds on one level but dies poor, alone, and unheralded

Described that way, it sure sounds like a bummer of a story. But it has to be, because that is how it really happened. My job is to capture the truth as best as possible, even when that truth is sad. Even when the “hero” loses. For young people, there is, of course, value in that reading about that kind of life trajectory as well. (And there are some fun/inspirational moments throughout.)

Also unusually for a nonfiction picture book, Bill the Boy Wonder ends with the hope (and hint) that the story may not yet be over. I suppose this is what is meant by meta: in doing the book, the real-life “ending” may change.

I’m sure there are other exceptions to the traditional nonfiction picture book narrative arc, though none to come to mind. Do you know any?

"Danger! Dialogue Ahead" article in "Horn Book"

The May/June 2013 issue of The Horn Book includes the first article I have written for that esteemed magazine. It is a variation and extension on thoughts about writing dialogue in nonfiction I first expressed here (and here).

Online:

Page two, rule of threes

Just as personalities can be encoded with patterns even the person possessing the personality doesn’t realize, writing styles can, too.

Both of my superhero picture books, Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman and Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman, take a similar approach on the second page: they use the rule of threes. (This is often associated with humor, but can be used in other ways as well.)

(The previous page teases that Jerry Siegel, Superman writer,  

was with his friends when at home rather than school; 

this page is the surprise reveal.)

The rule of threes in and of itself is not the pattern I’m pointing out—lots of writers use it, of course. The pattern is using the rule of threes on the second page. (Normally I would reserve the word “pattern” for three or more instances, but…okay, head starting to spin.)

I didn’t notice I’d repeated this tactic until after the second book was out. Because I didn’t do it consciously, I probably can’t explain it satisfactorily. It may be as simple as this: it’s a handy device to quicken the pace, which works especially well toward the beginning of a story because it tugs readers in via a rhythm.

Later in both books, I refer back to the threesome. In Boys of Steel, it reiterates the list—twice, actually:

In Bill the Boy Wonder, I refer back less specifically:
 

Let’s see if I end up using the rule of threes on the second page a third time.

Head spinning faster now.

Rules I broke in “Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman”

Superman is the ultimate law-abider. So it’s borderline traitorous for me to write a book about him that breaks some of the “rules.” Luckily, none go so far as to be criminal.

 

broken rule #1—Do not write nonfiction picture books on pop culture figures.

At first this may seem invalid because plenty of others have also broken this rule (and, for that matter, all of the other rules I’ll list). Yet this still comes up. It’s a commentary on commerce, not content. There can be editorial resistance to historic figures who are not part of traditional curriculum. Teachers are pressured to stick to material that will come up on tests; anything else can be perceived as a waste of time. Therefore, some editors worry that this situation will doom sales for a book on an unconventional topic. I am happy to report that the fact that Superman and his creators, writer Jerry Siegel and artist Joe Shuster, are typically not covered in social studies has not hindered classroom use of Boys of Steel. In fact, the book has multiple applications to curriculum, even if the Man (or Boys) of Steel will not be on the test.

broken rule #2—Do not write picture books about writers.

It does seem that a book featuring illustration after illustration of a person sitting at a desk would quickly become visually boring. But writers do far more than sit at desks. In writing any book there are challenges, and in writing any picture book there are additional challenges, and one of them is varying your images no matter what the subject. Boys of Steel contains only one image of Jerry at his typewriter. The rest is other kinds of adventure.

broken rule #3—Do not use dialogue in nonfiction picture books.

I’ve already written on this, but the recap is as follows: if you treat it like any other fact and source it appropriately, why not? In Boys of Steel, I include statements the Boys made in interviews but present it as dialogue. It livens up the text as dialogue tends to do, and it brings the reader closer to the protagonists. Yes, the lines of dialogue may have occurred at different times in real life than when they appear in the book, but this is a convention we regularly accept in nonfiction. No nonfiction is “pure” nonfiction—not even autobiography.

broken rule #4—With biographies, start with birth, end with death…or at least mention birth and death.

We are living in the Golden Age of Picture Book Biography, which allows writers unparalleled freedom in how we tell our true stories. Everything in the book must be factual, but not every fact must (or even can be) in the book. We need not present our tellings chronologically or wholly. Sometimes the birth and/or death of a figure are simply not essential details in our approach. (To the subjects, they were, of course, notable milestones.) I start Boys of Steel in roughly 1930, when Jerry and Joe met, and end it in roughly 1940, soon after Superman’s stratospheric rise. (In the author’s note, I do briefly address the rest of their lives.)

broken rule #5—Refer to your main character by name.

Perhaps this is not quite a rule, but it certainly is the standard. Not counting the subtitle and author’s note, Boys of Steel contains the word “Superman” precisely zero times. This was not because I was hindered by copyright/trademark restriction or because I made an oversight. This was simply because I could. In my structure, the Boys create Superman toward the end of the story proper, which means I got pretty far without using the word; it then became a fun challenge to see if I could get to the end without it. Readers come away thinking I’ve used the word, but they are extracting that thought from images alone.

broken rule #6—Have a happy ending.

Real life sometimes doesn’t, so books about real life sometimes can’t. Kids can handle the truth (relative to their age, of course). It does no favors to sugarcoat—or omit—certain tragedies. Every biography addresses struggles the protagonist faced en route to success, so why can’t the book end on a struggle? The illustrated portion of Boys of Steel does end on a high note, but the author’s note reveals that the Boys went on to face considerable suffering. Learning about injustice or misfortune or other unpleasantries may sound depressing, but often it is empowering. It can get kids fired up to help prevent similar situations in their own lives and to go do good in the world.

These are the kinds of rules even Superman would condone breaking.

“Bill the Boy Wonder” secrets revealed!

Soon after Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman came out in 2008, I posted what I called a “tour” of the book, pointing out details, tricks, and other Easter eggs that even astute readers might otherwise miss.

Here is the tour for Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman.

As is typical for contemporary picture books, the pages aren’t numbered. (Publishers fear that could turn off readers by calling attention to their relatively short length.) So I’ll reference pages by their first few words. 

Get your copy of the book and follow along...

“Every Batman story…” (inside front cover) 

backstory – I originally envisioned this text (both white and yellow) as a teaser/cold open on the page before the title page. It’s still before the title page…

“After Milton Finger graduated…” 

design – This image is a (rotated) close-up of the scene on the title page. See little Bill?
never-published information – Bill’s given name was Milton; Bill graduated high school in 1933. 
design – I wanted the three “secret identity” starbursts throughout the book to be consistent in color scheme (happened) and size (did not). 
backstory – The “first secret identity” line was intended to be a hook. People reading a book about a superhero would not be surprised to see mention of a secret identity (singular)…but it would be unusual for someone to have more than one.

“Bill loved literature…” 

design – Throughout the book, Ty depicts Bill in blue and Bob in yellow. Bill liked to wear blue Oxford shirts. And the yellow stands for…

“That weekend he sketched…” 

design – I love the scene in the first panel but felt the apartment looked too grand for a young artist in New York. I was (peaceably) overruled. Similarly, I felt the sidewalk in the second panel was too wide, but creative license won that one. In early drafts of the manuscript, I described the look of Bob’s character and first gave the name “Bat-Man” in the text, but once I started to lay out the book in my mind, I saw that these reveals would have a more striking impact if instead we showed them in the art.

“Wings aside…” 

design – We deliberately showed only parts of Batman rather than the whole for two reasons. First, delayed gratification: the later it comes, the greater the effect. Two, we had to be selective about showing characters owned by DC Comics: the fewer, the better.
attention to detail – That bat is a reproduction of how the drawing really looked in the 1937 Webster’s Dictionary, which would’ve been the most current edition when Bill and Bob were building Batman in 1939. (The fish, a bass, is also authentic.)

“In April 1939…” 

attention to detail – The image is based on a period photo of a newsstand. The comic covers are ones that would have been on the newsstand at approximately the same time as Detective Comics #27 (Batman’s debut). This is the first “full” appearance of Batman in the book, though I consider it too small to count.

“Bill and Bob would sit in Poe Park…” 

attention to detail – This setting is based on period photographs of Poe Park.

“Though Bill had wanted Bat-Man…” 

design – The sentence starting “Bat-Man became Batman…” makes sense in print, but requires elaboration/clarification when read aloud. 
design – This marks the second appearance of Batman, though only his head on a comic book cover. Still no big splash.

“Almost immediately Bob hired…” 

attention to detail – Those two guys standing in the background are Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, who were friends with Bill Finger and Jerry Robinson (seated). 
design – This is an example of taking advantage of the medium of picture books. The fact that Bill and Jerry played darts is not significant to the larger story, but it is visually interesting so it became the setting for the information conveyed in the accompanying text. Otherwise it could’ve been another scene of guys at a desk.

“But Bill stuck…” 

attention to detail – The phrase “superstitious, cowardly hearts of criminals” is a nod to Detective Comics #33, which first presents the origin of Batman and in which Bruce Wayne says “Criminals are a superstitious, cowardly lot. So my disguise must be able to strike terror into their hearts.” 
backstory – No gun is visible on purpose, though the threat is still evident.

“Steadily, silently, Bill built…” 

attention to detail – In the first sketches, Batman did not appear in this scene because the text is about Batman’s sidekick and villains.

However, in layout, I realized that we had not yet shown a whole, sizable Batman so I asked that we add him; as noted above, Batman does appear on a comic cover in two previous scenes, but in both cases, he is so miniscule that some readers may overlook him. And if kids got to this spread showing Batman’s supporting cast but still had not seen a “big” Batman, they would feel that it was either lame or an oversight. 
attention to detail – At first glance most will presume that the title of the book comes from the familiar phrase “Robin the Boy Wonder,” and that is a good thing, but on this page a more literal inspiration for the title manifests itself. It is in Bob’s 1989 autobiography where he said he referred to Bill as “boy wonder.” He, too, was not oblivious to the Robin association, even if he did indeed call Bill this back at the beginning of Batman.

“Other comics creators…” 

attention to detail – When I first saw the sketch in which both the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings are visible, I said I didn’t think that there was a ground-level vantage point (even with the lower skyline of the 1940s, when this scene took place) from which such a view existed. Upon seeing images like the one below and thereby learning I was wrong, we situated the scene on East 30th Street in an attempt at authenticity. 

backstory – I did not want the inset showing Bill shaking an editor’s hand, for two reasons. One, we already had a handshake image (Kane and editor Vin Sullivan) and I felt including a second one would dilute the (tragic) significance of the first. Two, I doubt it happened. I would guess that an editor simply called Bill to ask for a story, and it was as unceremonious as that. I was overruled, and it was okay.  
attention to detail – The gimmick book examples came from published sources and the astounding memory of Charles Sinclair.

“In 1948 Bill and his wife…” 

never-published information – Bill nicknamed his son Fred “Little Finger.” 
attention to detail – The ticket window is based on several period photographs. 
design – Originally, the text specified the way Bill snuck Fred into the museum, but after we began discussing art, it became clear to me that it would be more fun to portray the trick solely in the art.

“While his son…” 

backstory – The quotation “I’d like to return to the innocence of my childhood” was not essential, but I included it because it comes from the only known instance of Bill being mentioned/quoted in a mainstream publication (The New Yorker, 1965) in his lifetime.

“Bill was fond of writing…” 

attention to detail – The size of the plug seems disproportionately small compared to the size of the fork and plate, but we’d already gone through several sketches to get the trajectory of Batman popping out of the toaster seem plausible (ha) so the size concern was one I had to let go. 
attention to detail – If I had not caught that the absence of Batman on the earlier spread featuring the supporting characters/villains would seem like a goof, this would have been the first full-on appearance of Batman in the book.

“To get his stories…” 

attention to detail – This desk scene is, unbelievably, perhaps, based on a 1940s photograph of Bill’s workspace. Yes, I went from being told only two photos of Bill exist to having not only 11 photos but also one of his writing desk.  
attention to detail – That unassuming little paperweight is not just an illustrator flourish.

“During the first twenty-five years…” 

attention to detail – Here is the page from the 1943 story in which Bill’s name appears…sort of. Look carefully...

“In 1964 that changed…” 

backstory – Ty Templeton made up the blue-armored figure partially visible behind Julie Schwartz. I did not know this until after the book came out. I would have pushed for a glimpse of a known character, but I understand Ty wanting to limit potential intellectual property claims.

“The next summer…” 

backstory – I wanted either Bill to be wearing a tie or one other panelist not to be because I felt Bill could come off as schlubby if he were the only one that casual. I was overruled.

“Jerry also did his own…” 

attention to detail – The print over Bill’s desk…was a print over Bill’s desk. Thanks (again) to Charles Sinclair for injecting even more accuracy.

attention to detail – The image of “If the Truth Be Known…” looks that way because this scene takes place in 1965, a time when photocopies did not exist but mimeographs (in all their smudgy purple glory) did.

“Bill’s final Batman…” 

never-published information – Bill’s death date (previously reported as January 24). design – “Come Monday” deliberately repeats a construct I used for the first historic “Batman weekend” (1939).

“Now grown…” 

never-published information – Bill was cremated; Fred spread his ashes on an (Oregon) beach in an apropos shape. (No spoilers here. You have to see it for yourself.) 

“In Bob’s later years…” 

design – I did not think we needed the “Bob Kane” credit box there to identify him, and in fact worried it might be confusing, but was overruled.

“Jerry Robinson had long wanted…” 

attention to detail – This image is based on a photograph of Jerry’s home office. I asked for the TV to show a still from the credits of the 1960s TV Batman show, though it’s been “modified to fit the screen.”

“It was named…” 

attention to detail – That’s Jerry again, with Mark Evanier. We sought permission to include the Comic-Con imagery.

“From Milton to Bill…” 

backstory – I normally don’t like posing questions in my text, but could not resist the penultimate line.

copy of guestbook (last page) 

never-published information – Through a fluke both sad and fortunate, this remnant of Bill still exists.

“Bill was the greatest…” (inside back cover) 

backstory – Two of these three quotations were not my original suggestions. I had used a quotation from Lyn Simmons, Bill’s second wife, and another by another associate of Bill’s, but neither of them appear in the story proper and my editor, Alyssa Mito Pusey, felt it would be better to quote characters the reader already knew. I was hesitant at first but came to see her point…and am so glad I did. I love it this way.

I love it all this way.

Thank you, Alyssa, Ty, Martha, and the veritable flash mob of others whose knowledge and talent combined to make this a book about which I am overflowing with pride.

More Bill Finger secrets abound, if you know where to look...

The cold open of Matthew Cordell’s picture book “hello! hello!”

In March 2011, I posted an explosive series that peeled back the curtain on the enigmatic process of picture book writers and artists. Well, it wasn’t exactly explosive. And maybe the process isn’t all that enigmatic. (But it was a series.)

One of the posts discussed the cold open, a device commonly seen in television. As an example, I showed the pre-title page sequence of The Enemy by Davide Cali and Serge Bloch.

That post prompted one author to introduce himself to another—and in an unexpected reversal, I was not the one doing the introducing. (In other words, I’ve been known to force myself, digitally speaking, upon fellow writers whose work I admire.)

The talented author/illustrator Matthew Cordell kindly let me know that he enjoyed the post, both by e-mail and by comment underneath it.

Six months later, Matthew e-mailed with fun news. “I'm working on final illustrations for a picture book that makes use of a delayed opening (my very first!). Inspired by your blog post and, of course, a personal fave, The Enemy.”

Flash forward a year, and hello! hello! is amassing raves and fans in equal stride. I take full credit.

Well, not exactly full credit, but partial credit. Actually, just a fraction of a square root of partial credit. Technically, that works out to no credit at all. 

In seriousness, I’m thrilled for Matthew on the success of the book. I asked him to reflect on the genesis of his cold open and he graciously obliged:

The idea of doing a cold opening in one of my picture books had not really occurred to me for some time even though I probably encountered this play in form with many favorite picture books. I guess it pretty much went unnoticed. I’d always gone with the typical approach: endsheets-copyright-title-story-endsheets.

Then one day I picked up what would become a favorite picture book, The Enemy by Davide Cali, illustrated by Serge Bloch. I’m a big fan of Bloch. The design of this book is very clever and sophisticated. And it uses a cold opening. It really became clear to me that this could be a cool thing to do.

Then I saw your blog post pointing out cold openings in some of your favorite pic books, and that pretty much sealed the deal. I had to do it. Some time later, my idea for hello! hello! came along and I knew this had to be the book to explore a cold opening. Early on, I had plans for weaving in many layers of subtle intricacies with the design of this book, so it was immediately obvious to me it could also benefit from this little tweak to the form.

I may be taking this a step too far, but perhaps this is why the book is named “hello” twice. The first “hello” kicks off the cold open, the second the story proper.

No, no?

Congrats, congrats, Matthew, and thanks for sharing a bit of your process.

12/15/24 addendum: I'll add other picture books with cold opens as I come across them [started this after seeing others that I did not note at the time and now don’t remember]:

• The Truth About the Couch; written by Adam Rubin, illustrated by Liniers
• Simone; written by Viet Thanh Nguyen, illustrated by Millie Phan

Types of book titles I avoid using

Writers want their prose and their plots to be memorable. Why would it be different with their titles?

Below are a few types of titles I avoid in my writing. Regarding the examples I give, my criticism refers only to the titles, not the books/movies/TV shows/songs themselves, many of which are wonderful if not classics. And there are exceptions within my own work, such as Vanished: True Stories of the Missing—though I didn’t choose that title!

single words

reason: “Rosebud” aside, a single word is most likely not memorable, or even original. Search any word on Amazon and most have probably already been the title of a book.
note: This category also includes single words with “the” (The Goats—great book, by the way).
exceptions: Made-up words like Dinotopia or “Sussudio” because those are something we haven’t heard before.

two names

examples: Hondo and Fabian, Franny and Zoey, Laverne & Shirley, Lilo & Stitch.
exceptions: None really, but at least the names in the above examples are atypical.
reason: Names alone don’t reveal character—or anything about a story.

common phrases

examples: “No Way Out,” “Home Sweet Home,” “Time for Bed,” every song title on Bryan Adams’s album Into the Fire.
reason: Same as for “single words.”

"The Man/Woman/Boy/Girl Who…"

examples: The Man Who Knew Too Much, The Woman Who Wasn't There, The Boy Who Changed the World, The Girl Who Played with Fire.
reason: The character trait or accomplishment such titles single out usually seems more universal than the author may have intended. In other words, there are many boys who changed the world. I’d rather see a title that captures the essence of a person in a more specific way, or at least one that presents a fresh turn of a phrase, however inscrutable at first.

Lest it seem that I’m only being critical, think of it this way: by pointing out these types of titles, I’m also saying that the majority of titles do win points with me—namely, everything but the above.

Phase out this phrase

There is a phrase that I wish would cease to appear in picture books. (Okay, there are two. One is “There is…”)

The other phrase is so common that it probably goes unnoticed by most readers.

That phrase is “Then it happened” (or variations of it, such as “That’s when it happened,” etc.).

Even some otherwise charming books employ the phrase. Here are examples from Hunter's Big Sister by Laura Malone Elliott and The Only Boy in Ballet Class by my old friend Denise Gruska (this is The Only Phrase in the Book I'm critiquing, Denise!):

I know I've encountered other instances but they're not coming to mind; as I come across them, I will revisit this post to insert them.

I understand why the phrase is used. When a story contains a sudden shift in action, a writer feels he must set that up. Summoning a “then it happened” comes so naturally, it’s practically punctuation.

But I feel it is a weak segue, a hollow way to propel the reader to an exciting event in the next sentence. Why not just get to the good part?

“There is” (and its variations, such as “There are”) can always and easily be rewritten in a stronger way: “There is a baby duck waddling around on my front step” is more muscular as “A baby duck is waddling around on my front step.”

Similarly, “then it happened” can always be rewritten or often simply removed; as proof, reread the above passages but leave out the phrase. Missing anything? I don't think you will.

I feel writers have an obligation to entice readers not with familiar (and therefore empty) phrases but with original expressions that convey excitement through concrete action.

This concludes today’s Nitpicking 101 lesson. Your homework: post something nitpick-y about one of my books. Education never dies.

5/24/12 addendum: Found it in another book I love, Dad, Jackie, and Me.

1/2/13 addendum: And another, Puff, the Magic Dragon (though I fear quibbling with a classic).

12/13/13 addendum: From Henry’s Hand, a charming book by my Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman illustrator and all-around good guy Ross MacDonald:

The only two ingredients every story needs

The 11/22/10 Newsweek featured an article “Amazing Race” by Malcolm Jones, about Laura Hillenbrand, author of the 2001 bestseller Seabiscuit and the critically praised 2010 book Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. Admittedly, I’ve read neither, though the latter sounds more like my thing. (And Hillenbrand’s personal story is fascinating in its own right.)

A line in the article glowed for me: “Unbroken is wonderful twice over, for the tale it tells and for the way it’s told.” This almost word-for-word recalls something my college film professor said circa 1991 and which burned a permanent brand on my brain: “It’s not enough to have a good story. You need a good story, well told.”

This is why a story that may feel dramatic as a person lives it, and may seem dramatic when that person retells it, won’t necessarily translate into a dramatic story on the page. In making the transition from an anecdote or an idea to the permanent record, every story needs a special touch, to refine it so it shines all the way through, not just when the light hits it just right.

Picture book tips and tricks, part 5 of 5: Let the story breathe

Part 4.

In the term “picture book,” the “picture” comes first. Some argue the same should be true in the execution. Some have said that however long a picture book manuscript is, it’s always too long. There’s always a little more that can be cut to further demonstrate the economy of words.

Authors are sometimes afraid to let a wordless scene speak for itself. Fears: Will it seem out of place? Will the story lose momentum? Will my meaning be clear? Even if so, will smaller details be lost?

To that I say an emphatic no. A purely visual scene can have great impact and often approaches poetry without the usual tools of that trade (i.e. alpha-numeric language). Most such scenes that I can recall come toward the end of the book, and often are the climax itself.

Two of my favorites are from Green Eggs and Ham and Hubknuckles (one of my favorite ghost stories, period, and a rich name, too):

You have to learn the significance of this scene. So you have to read this book.

Before closing this series, I want to mention a picture book I recently discovered even though I don’t believe it uses any of the tricks I’ve discussed here. It’s called When I Am Old With You, and though technically nothing sad happens in the course of the book, it’s one of the most bittersweet picture book stories I’ve come across. In fact, if you're like me, you'll feel some of that bittersweetness from the title alone. I heartily recommend it.

In closing, and in honor of Dr. Seuss’s birthday today, I’ll end with what may be my single favorite picture book page to read aloud. For me, it begs to be read fast, until the last sentence, which I feel should be delivered with a dramatic pause after "tip."

(All book text and images shown in this series are copyright their respective creators.)

Picture book tips and tricks, part 4 of 5: Playing with the form

Part 3.

Many movies and TV shows employ a cold open—a short scene before the opening credits designed to draw you in immediately. I love when a picture book does, too. It adds urgency.

Here’s the cold open from The Enemy, a thoughtful, bold book that looks retro but reads as a product of the present day:

(The three cold open pages are actually halves of spreads, but for this purpose, I scanned only the half with the text.)

In a typical picture book image, each illustration equates to a single incident. However, exceptions exist.

To wit, consider The Luck of the Loch Ness Monster, a book that deftly combines humor, myth, a bit of suspense, a pinch of history (albeit twisted history), and, at its core, an unusual and touching friendship.

Look at this evocative spread:

Thanks to the kind Scott Magoon for voluntarily sending me this continuous image
to replace the shoddy scan-and-weld job I had here previously.

The left-hand page shows the protagonist (in red) and the right-hand page does, too, yet they are the same scene. A person can’t be in two places at once unless she’s a time traveler—or a picture book character. Yet the reader doesn’t feel anything is askew. This tweak to the laws of physics passes muster in a picture book. And, in this case, adds playfulness.

Some books play with form beyond the traditional boundaries of the narrative. The endearing The Curious Garden uses its endpapers to trace the dramatic arc of its story.

The inside front cover:

The inside back cover:

Without reading a word or seeing any other image or even a character, you get a sense of what this story will be about.

Sometimes it's not theme addressed on the "outskirts" of a picture book, but actual plot. The Bravest of Them All, a strong little adventure, pulls off a neat and quiet effect.

Here's the last page (showing it won't give away the details of the central set piece of the story):

This is the first the reader is learning of a "new" horse tank. And since this is the last page, you close the book figuring the fate of the old one won't be shown or explained.

Then you see the back cover:


That's the (obviously old) horse tank that has an important role earlier in the book; as noted above, the author did not explicitly state that it was a casualty of the climactic tornado.

Yet when processing the mention of a "new" horse tank with this final image, the reader makes meaning. (Of course, given that it's clear from the cover that the story is about a tornado, it's not hard to assume that lots of stuff would've been damaged. But still, it's a clever—and haunting—way of conveying information and leaving the reader with a reminder of the scary power of nature.)

Another example of playing with picture book form doesn’t involve the illustrations at all but rather their borders.

Take the real-life adventure The Man Who Walked Between the Towers, a triumph on multiple levels.

This acclaimed 2003 book commemorates the World Trade Center without directly addressing the tragedy of 9/11 (as I write this, the word “tragedy” seems as small to the event as we do to the towers themselves). That alone is a deft feat, yet the book manages to do it by featuring a criminal protagonist! “Criminal” is too strong a word here, of course, but Philippe Petit is not the traditional picture book role model figure. Or is he? His ambush tightrope performance was illegal, yes, but also daring, inspiring, and even unifying.

Back to the borders. Look how the book sets the mood using not just the images but the color of the commonly nondescript edges of the page.

The images themselves convey, respectively, “night” and “day,” and the coloring of the borders accentuates that. An argument can be made that Mordicai Gerstein’s art doesn’t actually end with his hand-drawn frames, but either way, the background of the background matters here.

Not only the color but also the size of borders can make a statement, as demonstrated in the timeless and wordless The Snowman.

The borders around the final panel (SPOILER ALERT!) of art are an emotional device. The boy is discovering his loss dominated by white all around (more snow?).

One’s first instinct might be to present this poignant scene as a full page, to emphasize the intensity of the boy’s sadness. However, I think it is much more powerful this way. The shrunken size of the panel signals that he now feels shrouded in loneliness.

I suspect my next observation has already been addressed in countless dissertations, so I’ll simply state it without analysis. In Where the Wild Things Are, the art starts off in a fairly small box, and the size of each subsequent box increases as the story moves Max closer to his fantastical encounters.




When in the land of the wild things, the art is pushing the boundaries, whether letterboxed or full-bleed.

Then when Max returns home, he is no longer boxed in artistically or spiritually.

(All book text and images shown in this series are copyright their respective creators.)

Part 5.