Review by New York Times Review
THE HOLIDAYS ARE so unpredictable. Some years you're stuck on an iceberg with your menorah; some years you're cowering in a muddy border trench facing German soldiers; and some years you're kidnapped by a vaguely demonic wooden horse named Trott-trott. You just never know. So it makes sense that three new holiday books offer very different perspectives on wintertime adventures. Twenty-five years after writing the best Hanukkah book of all time, "Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins" (I will throw a latke at anyone who disagrees), Eric A. Kimmel delivers "Simon and the Bear," a loony Hanukkah story about a Russian immigrant stranded by a shipwreck on an iceberg with a lady polar bear. Simon is frightened, but he shares his brown bread and herring. To his surprise, the bear brings him a raw salmon. ("Not bad!" Simon assesses. "A little salty. Like lox.") She keeps him warm. It happens to be Hanukkah, and they spend seven nights on the iceberg ... and then on the eighth day Simon gets a miracle. The illustrator Matthew Trueman's humans have blocky fingers, protruding ears and round noses (I flashed back to the early 1960s Muggins Mouse books in my Bubbe's house), while the bear and backgrounds are luminous, majestic and painterly. It's a lot of fun. John Hendrix's "Shooting at the Stars" is visually and tonally very different. A picture book aimed at an 8-to-12-year-old audience (I kept wishing it were a graphic novel, which might be an easier sell to "reluctant readers" who would gravitate to the subject), it's a fictionalized version of a true incident from 1914. German and British foot soldiers in their trenches all lay down their arms for Christmas, shook hands, sang carols, played football with an empty biscuit tin, and hung tiny trees with lanterns and candles. The art is a fascinating mix of cartoonish (our hero Charlie's sweet, open, Archie-like face) and cinematic (close-ups of feet and long shots of soldiers waving across the distance). It's also a bit scary, depicting dead bodies in the no man's land between the trenches. Handlettering is mixed with blocks of text, all in a beautiful palette of blues and greens for peaceful nighttime scenes, along with reds, browns and oranges for harsh daylight. It's an ambitious and nuanced book, one that adults will need to talk about with kids. It's an antiwar story that doesn't demonize soldiers; it's a response to people who see religion as a divisive force; it's an opportunity to explain the challenges of historical fiction. Alas, the dense two-page foreword is a drudgy history lesson; the author's note and glossary at the end are more useful and more kid-friendly. What to say about "A Treasury of Wintertime Tales," 13 stories originally published between 1905 and 1972 and collected in a ravishing, oversize hardcover by the art book publisher Taschen? The retro art is megawatt, featuring lots of Caldecott-winning illustrators. Hipster parents will want to get tattoos of every image. Mike D could wallpaper his Brooklyn townhouse with the pages. There's the super-mod citron-and-black pattern-upon-pattern look of Beatrice Braun-Fock's art in "Winter and the Children" (1959); Nicolas Sidjakov's bold slashes of black over blocks and triangles of hot pink, orange and avocado green stripes in "The Friendly Beasts" (1957); the angelic apple-cheeked Kewpie-esque babies of Sibylle von Olfers's 1905 "Marilyn and the Snow Children." The stories are a mix too: Some are boring and virtuous; some are lilting poems; some are inexplicably, delightfully, old-school nutballs ("Peter's mother said that the police really did not know how to look for little children," which is totally what I would say if my child disappeared for a few weeks on a magical oversize toy horse named Trott-trott). Yet the inclusion of Ingri and Edgar Parin d'Aulaire's "Children of the Northlights" (1935) is troubling. It's a romanticized, well-meaning portrayal of the indigenous Sami people of Scandinavia. But it refers to them throughout as Lapps, a term the Sami themselves consider derogatory. The tone is infantilizing ("The Lapps were great bear-hunters and were famous all over the world as wizards, but they were afraid of the school") and condescending (the Lapp children have to be taught to sit properly instead of squatting; the Lapp grown-ups all drive too fast so the babies fall off the sleds). The book's editor, Noel Daniel, does call the characters Sami in the table of contents and back matter, but nowhere does she say that the word Lapp is hurtful and the people's depiction exoticizing. Look, we all loved the d'Aulaires' Greek myths books as kids, and these illustrations are just as gorgeous. But here the d'Aulaires are talking about real people, people who have been hurt by Nordic colonialism. Meanwhile, the story about Chinese-Americans in Los Angeles is told by a white dude; and while Daniel notes the diverse ethnic backgrounds of the authors and illustrators, some readers are bound to wonder how many of the 20 in the collection might be anything other than white.... Well, I wish the book had at least discussed the downside of reissuing vintage kid lit. And frankly, I found myself thinking, c'mon, throw me a Hanukkah bone! Suddenly I was a small child in Rhode Island in December again, feeling isolated in majority culture. And there's an out-of-print K'ton Ton Hanukkah story, so don't give me any geschrei, Taschen. MARJORIE INGALL is a life and religion columnist for Tablet magazine.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [November 30, 2014]
Review by Booklist Review
After his ocean liner strikes an iceberg, young immigrant Simon relinquishes his seat on a lifeboat to a father. Realizing that his own survival will require a miracle, he lands on the iceberg and celebrates the Festival of Lights with the candles and latkes in his bag. Later, he shares his dwindling provisions with a polar bear, who keeps him warm through several nights, and then with sailors, who notice Simon's flickering lights and rescue him. Arriving in New York, he learns that the man whose life he saved is the mayor who gratefully arranges a job for Simon (tending polar bears at Central Park Zoo) and passage to America for Simon's family. Kimmel's folkloric tale brims with seasonal details, including the foods and customs of Hanukkah. Trueman's mixed-media artwork features deep blues and blacks, suited to winter on the north Atlantic, and his cartoon-style characters display an earnest, slightly ethereal look, befitting a story of miracles.--Weisman, Kay Copyright 2014 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
For Simon, a young Jewish immigrant headed for America, life is one miracle after another-nine, in fact, which correspond to the total number of candles on a fully lit menorah. The mounting improbabilities-which include Simon surviving on an iceberg after a Titanic-like sinking, thanks to the help of a latke-loving polar bear that feeds him sushi-style salmon ("A little salty. Like lox," Simon notes)-are handled with matter-of-fact aplomb by Kimmel (Hanukkah Bear). But Trueman's (One Beetle Too Many) gorgeous scenes of arctic nights are the book's high point, rendered in deep blues, silvery white, and the golden glow of candles. An author's note about the holiday concludes this engaging and visually arresting book. Ages 3-5. Author's agent: Jennifer Laughran, Andrea Brown Literary Agency. Illustrator's agent: Michèle Manasse, New Work Illustration. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 2-Combining elements of the classic immigrant tale with magical realism and a dash of Titanic, this story follows young Simon as he leaves his family behind in the old country, sailing on a ship to America. Packed in his knapsack are a menorah, candles, a dreidel, and latkes to celebrate Hanukkah during the crossing. When the ship strikes an iceberg on the first night of the holiday, fatherless Simon gives up his seat in a lifeboat to a man whose little boy is waiting for him in New York. As the ship sinks, Simon jumps onto the iceberg where he lights his menorah and hopes for a miracle, "just as one happened for the Maccabees long ago." Suddenly a polar bear appears out of the darkness and pulls itself onto the iceberg, eating the latkes and other food Simon offers her. Over the next several days, it catches fish for Simon and cuddles up with him at night to keep him warm. On the last night of Hanukkah, Simon lights the last of his candles, shares his last latke with the bear, and hopes for one more miracle, which arrives in the form of a rescue boat, sent from a passing ship that has seen his fully lit menorah. The icy dark night is masterfully depicted in a watercolor palette of rich blues punctured by brilliant stars and the warm glow of the candles. The iceberg is given substance and depth by the use of what appears to be folded paper that has been crumpled and painted, while the hefty figure of the polar bear is worked in gouache softened with pastel. With its fine storyteller's language and themes of selflessness and miracles, this is a book that is sure to bring pleasure and meaning to Hanukkah celebrations. An author's note on the history of the holiday is included.-Teri Markson, Los Angeles Public Library (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
Young immigrant Simon travels to America on a ship whose fate mirrors that of the Titanic, but this ship sinks on Hanukkah, a holiday that encourages faith in miracles. Simon gives another passenger his spot on a lifeboat and camps out on an iceberg. Sharing his latkes with a polar bear pays off in body heat and fish, and soon his Hanukkah candles bring about his rescue by catching the attention of a passing ship. Illustrations with frequent images of light in darkness combine with the recurring theme of miracles to evoke the Hanukkah spirit. shoshana flax (c) Copyright 2014. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
A polar bear, a brave boy and an early-20th-century shipwreck play equal roles in this Hanukkah story filled with its own set of miracles. Simon's mother lovingly packs food for his voyage to America, including key elements so he can observe Hanukkah: "A little menorah, a box of candles, matches, a dreidel, and plenty of latkes." The ship, badly damaged after hitting a giant iceberg, begins to sink. Simon generously gives up his spot on a lifeboat to a bearded man in a fur coat desperate to reach his son in New York. Alone, Simon leaps from the ship's bow onto the iceberg and wonders if on this first night of Hanukkah a miracle might happen to save his life. Soon after, a polar bear climbs the iceberg. Though fearful, Simon shares food and lights the menorahthen sleeps cozily in the warmth of the bear's fur. This sharing continues for a miraculous seven days until a passing ship's crew rescues Simon on the last night of Hanukkah. As in the newly revised Hanukkah Bear, illustrated by Mike Wohnoutka (2013), Kimmel effectively uses the large, furry beast to blend themes of miracles, faith and an innocent's altruism. Trueman's illustrations, a combination of collage, crushed paper cutouts and acrylics in icy blue tones, create glittery scenes of a desolate ocean offset by warm yellow glows from the menorah candles. His bear is particularly charming. Old World storytelling in a sparkling, novel settinga delight. (Picture book. 5-8) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
