The Invention of Hugo Cabret was already a favorite in our family, and the movie Hugo cemented my fanship. So we were pretty excited to get started on Brian Selznick’s latest illustrated novel, Wonderstruck.
Wonderstruck takes the interaction between great story and wonderful illustration that was the joy of Hugo Cabret to a new level. Rather than illustrating the story that he is telling, in Wonderstruck Selznick writes one story with words and writes another with the illustrations that are interspersed in the pages of words. In the words, a young boy in the 1970s has lost his mother and is searching for information on his father. In the illustrations, a young, deaf girl in the 1920s runs away from home.
The two stories, separated by time and place, eventually become intertwined in surprising and satisfying ways. Lots of twists and turns in the story kept us eager for the next pages. Selznick proves that his creativity has not reached its limit, and I’m excited to see what he does next!
I read this one aloud to my 8 year old. She was breathless each chapter, wondering when she would get to revisit the illustrated storyline; she could hardly stand to put the book down each night. There were a few moments, as Ben searches for clues about the father he never knew, that made me wonder if this book would be the prompting of an explanation of the birds and the bees to my daughter. That did not come to pass, mostly because she didn’t want to stop reading to ask questions.
There are sensitive portrayals of the challenges of being deaf. And Selznick is clearly fascinated by museums and collections. In the endnotes, he mentions that credit is due to the book From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg, which is a book I remember from my childhood with great affection. He also mentioned that there are many tributes to that book placed throughout Wonderstruck. So what else was there to do but pull out Frankweiler and read that one aloud next? We are about three chapters in.
Showing posts with label E.L. Konigsburg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label E.L. Konigsburg. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Art of Reading
As a girl, I was fascinated with The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg. What a dream to live in a museum--sleeping in the beds, splashing in the fountain, making it my own.
Later, reading The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger inspired me to look for the distinctive staircase described in the book. It is ostensibly in the Newberry Library, and during an anniversary getaway to Chicago, I thought this was perfect timing. Much to my husband's chagrin.
First, we went to the wrong library (my mistake). Then we went to the correct library, only to find that it is a genealogical research library. Undeterred, I signed up for a membership card (free), and we went into the research room to do some superficial family research before I attempted to find the staircase (breaching a few restricted areas as I went). If it exists, it is nowhere that a less-than-competent sleuth like me can find it. I don't think I embarrassed the two of us too much.
In spite of this history, we love visiting Chicago. The Field Museum and the Museum of Science and Industry are so family-friendly. The Adler Planetarium is stellar. But it's the Shedd Aquarium that attracts our children. Until now, however, we have never gone to the Art Institute of Chicago.
There are a couple of reasons for this. One of our female offspring, who shall remain nameless, professes to "hate museums." Brian and I, for that matter, have never been the type to spend a long time in an art museum. With a sadly lacking art education in my past, I never felt like I "got" art. Having a son with natural artistic talent and interest has changed everything. Still. Taking three children when only one wants to go has definite drawbacks.
Over the last couple of weeks I've been reading a new book aloud to 11-year-old Natalie at night. It's called The Sixty-Eight Rooms, by Marianne Malone. While I can't say I personally have been riveted (too much logistical description, not enough action), she has been drawn in by the premise. Jack and Ruthie, two sixth graders, discover a way to shrink down and explore the Thorne Rooms. The Thorne Rooms are a collection of amazingly detailed miniature rooms in the lower level of the Art Institute of Chicago. The idea of being small enough to explore them, and then walking out into the worlds they represent, has Natalie's imagination reeling.
She was thrilled to find out we were going to visit the Art Institute, and she insisted that we save the Thorne Rooms for last. We spent a lot of time looking at each tiny room, representing American, British and French rooms from many different periods, as well a few others such as Japan, China and a cathedral. This was the highlight of the trip for her.
The Art Institute turned out to be a highlight for the rest of us, too, with the exception of a certain control-freak 7-year-old who preferred not to be there. Monet, Matisse, Magritte, and Picasso were all wonderful. I was ridiculously excited to see, in real life, the Georges Seurat painting that Cameron closely admires in the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Andrew's enthusiasm for architecture made the Architecture and Design section a hit, and both of the older kids were beside themselves when they recognized one of the paintings that Van Gogh was painting in a recent episode of "Dr. Who."
If you consider visiting an art museum, and you are uncertain of your children's interest, try some books beforehand. Chasing Vermeer and its follow-ups The Wright 3 and The Calder Game by Blue Balliett might open the doors to their imaginations just as Konigsburg's book did for me, Malone's book did for Natalie, and "Dr. Who" did for all of us.
A series of board books by Julie Merberg and Suzanne Bober introduce toddlers to famous paintings in titles like A Picnic with Monet and Dancing with Degas. Vincent's Colors, a lovely picture book using Vincent Van Gogh's own words, is another great choice.
And, of course, if you must drag an uninterested adult along, I suppose you could always try The DaVinci Code by Dan Brown. Perhaps the aforementioned adult could look for hidden clues to a secretive religious order, though there must be a better alternative! I tried Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan, about the mistress of Frank Lloyd Wright, but I can't recommend it. I know it's a bestseller, but it did nothing for me. Maybe it's time for me to re-read The Mixed-Up Files!
Later, reading The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger inspired me to look for the distinctive staircase described in the book. It is ostensibly in the Newberry Library, and during an anniversary getaway to Chicago, I thought this was perfect timing. Much to my husband's chagrin.
First, we went to the wrong library (my mistake). Then we went to the correct library, only to find that it is a genealogical research library. Undeterred, I signed up for a membership card (free), and we went into the research room to do some superficial family research before I attempted to find the staircase (breaching a few restricted areas as I went). If it exists, it is nowhere that a less-than-competent sleuth like me can find it. I don't think I embarrassed the two of us too much.
In spite of this history, we love visiting Chicago. The Field Museum and the Museum of Science and Industry are so family-friendly. The Adler Planetarium is stellar. But it's the Shedd Aquarium that attracts our children. Until now, however, we have never gone to the Art Institute of Chicago.
There are a couple of reasons for this. One of our female offspring, who shall remain nameless, professes to "hate museums." Brian and I, for that matter, have never been the type to spend a long time in an art museum. With a sadly lacking art education in my past, I never felt like I "got" art. Having a son with natural artistic talent and interest has changed everything. Still. Taking three children when only one wants to go has definite drawbacks.
Over the last couple of weeks I've been reading a new book aloud to 11-year-old Natalie at night. It's called The Sixty-Eight Rooms, by Marianne Malone. While I can't say I personally have been riveted (too much logistical description, not enough action), she has been drawn in by the premise. Jack and Ruthie, two sixth graders, discover a way to shrink down and explore the Thorne Rooms. The Thorne Rooms are a collection of amazingly detailed miniature rooms in the lower level of the Art Institute of Chicago. The idea of being small enough to explore them, and then walking out into the worlds they represent, has Natalie's imagination reeling.
She was thrilled to find out we were going to visit the Art Institute, and she insisted that we save the Thorne Rooms for last. We spent a lot of time looking at each tiny room, representing American, British and French rooms from many different periods, as well a few others such as Japan, China and a cathedral. This was the highlight of the trip for her.
The Art Institute turned out to be a highlight for the rest of us, too, with the exception of a certain control-freak 7-year-old who preferred not to be there. Monet, Matisse, Magritte, and Picasso were all wonderful. I was ridiculously excited to see, in real life, the Georges Seurat painting that Cameron closely admires in the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Andrew's enthusiasm for architecture made the Architecture and Design section a hit, and both of the older kids were beside themselves when they recognized one of the paintings that Van Gogh was painting in a recent episode of "Dr. Who."
If you consider visiting an art museum, and you are uncertain of your children's interest, try some books beforehand. Chasing Vermeer and its follow-ups The Wright 3 and The Calder Game by Blue Balliett might open the doors to their imaginations just as Konigsburg's book did for me, Malone's book did for Natalie, and "Dr. Who" did for all of us.
A series of board books by Julie Merberg and Suzanne Bober introduce toddlers to famous paintings in titles like A Picnic with Monet and Dancing with Degas. Vincent's Colors, a lovely picture book using Vincent Van Gogh's own words, is another great choice.
And, of course, if you must drag an uninterested adult along, I suppose you could always try The DaVinci Code by Dan Brown. Perhaps the aforementioned adult could look for hidden clues to a secretive religious order, though there must be a better alternative! I tried Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan, about the mistress of Frank Lloyd Wright, but I can't recommend it. I know it's a bestseller, but it did nothing for me. Maybe it's time for me to re-read The Mixed-Up Files!
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