The wolves of Currumpaw

LEARNING ABOUT A COUNTRY'S real past is a fraught activity; once mythological versions become embedded in the public consciousness they are tough to dislodge. Take the American West. Those of us who came of age in the last century did so with movies, books, television shows, toys, games and school curriculums that told us of wide-open and empty spaces, of buffalo and land free for the taking, of sturdy and stoic white settlers, of adventurous cowboys, and of fierce and frightening indigenous people. This romanticized notion of the so-called Wild West is remarkably resistant to correction and stubbornly enduring, as evidenced by those who can't see why American Indian sports team names and mascots are offensive. As for who was responsible for the myth in the first place, many names could be suggested, among them Buffalo Bill Cody and Ernest Thompson Seton - as young readers of two new books will discover. William Frederick Cody, who had moved with his family from Iowa to the unruly territory of Kansas in 1854, took on every sort of role the West had to offer, starting in his early teens. Cattle herder, wagon train worker, Pony Express rider, buffalo hunter, gold prospector - he did them all. Or so he claimed. What is certain is that his rugged good looks and rumored feats caught the attention of a dime-novel writer who renamed him Buffalo Bill Cody and featured him in hundreds of sensational and completely fictional stories, catapulting him to national fame. This enabled him, some years later, to create Buffalo Bill's Wild West show, a massive and massively popular entertainment that helped cement that mythic Western construct we still grapple with today. Now Candace Fleming, the author of several acclaimed nonfiction books for younger readers, including "The Family Romanov" and "The Great and Only Barnum," has taken on the task of unpacking Cody's story, unscrambling the truth from the fiction and placing it within the history of the West. Using a straightforward chronological structure, Fleming begins each chapter by conjuring an act from one of Cody's shows. The first is titled "The Boy Will Cody, or Attack on the Settler's Cabin by Indians and Rescue by Buffalo Bill With His Scouts, Cowboys and Mexicans.'" While Cody's description of the attack was clearly fictional, he had real experience to draw upon: His childhood home had been set upon, just not by American Indians but by hostile fellow settlers. Because of Cody's tendency to embellish, Fleming supplements his own descriptions with other sources and voices. For particularly dubious accounts such as his self-proclaimed Pony Express exploits or lingering questions such as how the show's American Indian performers were treated, she provides "Panning for the Truth" sections, presenting sometimes conflicting primary evidence and differing conclusions by those who study the past. Along with primary source images, many of them photographs, with informative captions, these insightful windows into the work of historians are fascinating as well as important reminders for young readers of the need to be constantly revisiting and reconsidering what was previously known, especially when it comes to a bigger-than-life historical personality. HUMANS WERE AT the heart of Buffalo Bill's stories. But for the artist and writer Ernest Thompson Seton it was wolves. His 1898 story "Lobo: The King of Currumpaw" is the basis for a beautifully designed oversize picture book by the British artist William Grill, whose first book, "Shackleton's Journey," was a New York Times Best Illustrated Book and the winner of Britain's Kate Greenaway Medal. Invited to New Mexico to hunt down and kill the infamous wolf Lobo, Seton sets himself to the task with determination, using such methods as poison and traps. Marveling at the animal's ability to repeatedly outwit him, the persistent Seton finally succeeds by trapping and using the wolf's mate, Blanca, as bait. Grill's spare text is harrowing enough, but it's even more emotionally elevated by his colored pencil drawings, which he has said were inspired by the scenery of New Mexico as well as Native American tapestries and rugs. Hauntingly beautiful full-spread landscapes are scattered throughout, some from Lobo's point of view and some from Seton's, supplemented by images of widely varying sizes that further the story line. On one striking full page, Grill grimly presents the 130 distinctive traps Seton used. After the two wolves' deaths, a spread filled with small oval portraits silently memorializes them. The sober tone continues in a coda to the main story, in which Grill relates how the experience with Lobo transformed Seton from a brutal hunter into an avid conservationist. By forgoing Seton's first-person perspective for the more distant third-person voice and tightening the account, Grill has created a powerful picture book that is certain to provoke feelings of empathy for the regal Lobo and Blanca, though one perhaps best appreciated by animal-loving younger readers with an adult nearby. I would also recommend that a grown-up be on hand to talk about a series of small images in an introductory section called "The Old West" featuring American Indians, one showing an indigenous man on his knees begging for mercy as soldiers point guns at him. While these drawings are no doubt intended to remind readers of the horrific treatment of the First Nations during the "dying days of the Old West," there are no words accompanying them, which may be confusing and disturbing, as if the book is making literal the larger culture's silencing of native people's own stories and their place in the history of the American West. In different ways, "The Wolves of Currumpaw" and "Presenting Buffalo Bill" provide opportunities for young readers to critically explore some stubborn historical fictions about the West. There is so much more to be done, yet it's increasingly possible to hope that more accurate historical stories will eventually replace the many tired myths with something closer to the truth. MONICA EDINGER, a fourth-grade teacher in New York City, is the author of "Africa Is My Home: A Child of the Amistad." She blogs at Educating Alice.

As settlers expanded into the western plains of the U.S., their presence wreaked havoc on the many tribes of American Indians already living there, as well as the region's wildlife. Grill, inspired by Ernest Thompson Seton's short story Lobo: The King of Currumpaw, relates the story of Seton's hunt and eventual capture of the infamous wolf Lobo in succinct, typewritten sentences and expressionistic colored-pencil illustrations. Summoned by ranchers to Colorado for his renowned hunting skills, Seton brings an armory of tools and sets out to track the wily wolf. But in his hunt, he comes to respect Lobo, even mourning his death, and eventually becomes a major proponent of wildlife conservation. Grill's artwork alternates between tiny, snapshot-like illustrations aligned in grids and vast, sweeping, beautiful desert landscapes bleeding to the edges of oversize, double-page spreads. The ranchers' minuscule, individual actions look inconsequential in such a small scale, but amassed together, Grill seems to suggest in his art, they have massive impact. An artful, thought-provoking adaptation sure to inspire budding conservationists.--Hunter, Sarah Copyright 2016 Booklist

Greenaway Medal-winner Grill (Shackleton's Journey) leaves the Antarctic for the New Mexico desert of the 1890s in a haunting retelling of Ernest Thompson Seton's short story his attempt to capture Lobo, "a giant among wolves," whose pack had been terrorizing settlers in the Currumpaw valley for years. After many skilled hunters failed to kill the gray wolf, Seton arrived from New York City to try his hand, discovering more about Lobo than the previous men, including that the wolves were killing the ranchers' cattle out of necessity. He eventually secured Lobo after capturing and killing his mate, Blanca, an act that, along with Lobo's subsequent death, led Seton to devote "the rest of his life to protecting the wolf species." Alternating among small vignettes, sequential panels, and sweeping spreads of desert vistas and expansive skies, Grill's rough-hewn pencil artwork amplifies Seton's internal turmoil and the grim skirmishes between man and wolf through a limited palette of rust red, drab blue, taupe, and charcoal. It's a powerful, cinematic work of naturalistic fiction that deftly outlines the importance of respecting nature. Ages 7-14. (July) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.