by Sam Juliano
The past year in picture books has yielded some of the most daring and mature themes yet explored in this generally restrictive terrain. The first openly transgender picture book I Am Jazz by Jessica Herthel and Jazz Jennings takes a pointed look at the confusion of a boy who possesses the mind-set of a girl, and the lovely Canadian work Morris Micklewhite and the Tangerine Dress by Christine Baldacchino and Isabelle Malenfant explores the courage it takes to be creative and different, in this case a boy wearing a dress. Then there is a book titled Outlaw Pete by Bruce Springsteen and Frank Caruso, that is so godawful in concept and theme, that its creators are now trying to say its target audience are adults. Right. A book about an infant who robs banks in his diapers. In any case, the boldest book of any in 2014 was written and illustrated by one of children’s literature’s most renowned artists, Sophie Blackall. A strong contender in last year’s Caldecott race for the sublime illustrations she crafted for The Mighty Lalouche by Matthew Olsham, the artist’s Chinese ink and pastel watercolors bring a sumptuous life to a theme that must be delicately broached to win the seal of approval from the teachers and parents who would oversee this book’s reception at home and in the classroom. Blackall’s virtuoso use of colors in finely bordered vignettes are a perfect fit for the aesthetically pleasing arches paper used for this book. The austerity of The Baby Tree’s subject is negotiated with visual disarmament that accentuates the boundless joy of familial addition, rather than a more muted conscription of how to deal with the birds and the bees. No author or illustrator to date has brought such effervescence to this sobering subject, nor has so effectively sidestepped the implications of the reproductive process.
Much like the lion’s share of picture book treasures, The Baby Tree sports an arresting cover, one duplicated on the dust jacket. Twelve babies in colorfully adorned birth cloths are shown sprouting from a tree in accordance with the title and one of the propositions in the narrative. The tale begins as a young boy wakes up, rustles his parents to consciousness -they both sleep in blanket designs of colored streamers- feeds his cat Brian, and sits down at the breakfast table. His parents relate the news that a new baby will soon be coming to the household. Though the boy holds many questions for this life-changing event, he only is able to ask for another cereal portion. Blackall emphasizes the love circulating this house with another multi-colored object, a throw rug. Even the Brian drinks from colored bowls, but he’s on the love train too. Mom and Dad are adorned in colorful clothes with Dad gathering up a small stack of colorful cups and saucers.
Enter the teenager Olive, a girl who walks the boy to school, most of time holding hands at his request. The first time the big question is asked (“Where do babies come from?”) Olive responds “You plant a seed and it grows into a Baby Tree.” Young boy’s imagination envisions an encore of the cover. A possible answer to the vital query is held at bay when the boy engages in physical activities, snack break and reading, resurfacing during art where a visualization of the baby tree is attempted. Again, color abounds as it does on the following panel with the art teacher Mrs. McClure holding a tin can of polychrome covered brushes. When asked where babies come from, the teacher skirts around the issues, taking refuge in the obvious: “From the hospital.” The boy’s charming perception of a hospital is a square five level doll house shaped structure with a red cross over the entrance and a bundled baby seen through window link openings. Some of these babies are even making their way out. Yet there is something false about this idea as the boy deduces when he concludes that hospital are specifically for surgeries, broken legs and stone removal. He conjures up images of Grandpa’s visit, and his crossword playing recuperation in a bed. A visit to grandpa and his rooftop pigeons gives opportunity for the supreme question. Blackhall’s art in this spread with birds in flight, cloth designs, coup and building is fabulously rendered. Grandpa’s response as to the origin of babies comes off to the boy as the most difficult one to believe:
A stork brings your baby in the night and leaves it in a bundle on your doorstep.
Blackall’s art for this imagined visualization is ravishing. An oversized white stork with red mane and designed feather holds a baby in a cloth stack while flying over the town. Of course the mail that arrives everyday is all letters. Then the mailman Roberto is brought into the Q & A; he scratches his head, not wanting to get involved, still opining that babies are hatched from eggs, even though he is not sure where to find them. One baby’s head hatched from one of three eggs in a bird’s nest (a little leg can be seen breaking through the shell of another) is a hoot of an illustration. At that point confusion rules the day, and after the nighttime rituals of dinner, bath and multiple bedtime stories (nice homage there to Brian Floca’s Caldecott Medal winning Locomotive) the question is again posed. This time the parents are prepared and alternate in the answer. Basically the mom admits they grow inside her, with a cycle that is launch by an implanted seed from the dad. The baby must stay inside the mom for nine months, at which point it is big enough to be born. Most of the time this happens in the hospital. Blackall’s illustrations for the step-by-step process envisioned by the boy are exquisitely detailed. The boy deduces that Olive, Roberto and Mr.s McClure were partially right about the seed, the egg and the hospital respectively, but Grandpa’s hypothesis has no place in this equation. The boy relates his findings to a clearly amused grandpa, who sits in a living room with a delightfully ubiquitous wall painting of a stork!
More specific answers to the origin of babies as well as specific questions are provided in an afterward. Questions about adoption, twins, babies who have two moms or two dads, the development of the fetus over nine months and the way sperm meets egg are frankly addressed with refreshing candor. This section might not win the seal of approval from all parents, but most will appreciate the good taste and informative value. The Baby Tree cheerfully and with a great deal of heart opens the door to meaningful discussion, that is cleverly couched in humor and evasive dialogue. The clever end papers and artistic design of the book are both sublime and inspired, and this unique offering by any barometer of measurement should be firmly in the Caldecott reasoning.
Note: This is the forty-first entry in the 2014 Caldecott Medal Contender series. The series does not purport to predict what the committee will choose, rather it attempts to gauge what the writer feels should be in the running. In most instances the books that are featured in the series have been touted as contenders in various online round-ups, but for the ones that are not, the inclusions are a humble plea to the committee for consideration. It is anticipated the series will include at least 40 titles; the order which they are being presented in is arbitrary, as every book in this series is a contender. Some of my top favorites of the lot will be done near the end. The awards will be announced on February 2nd, hence the reviews will continue to the end of January.
