Some days

María Wernicke

Book - 2020

A young girl tells her mother about a passageway in their yard. Down this passageway, it is not cold, there is no danger, and nothing bad can ever happen--and the person she longs for is with her again. The only problem is that, on some days, the passageway is not there. But maybe, together, mother and daughter can find a way to carry that feeling with them always.

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Children's Room Show me where

jE/Wernicke
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Location Call Number   Status
Children's Room jE/Wernicke Withdrawn
Subjects
Genres
Picture books
Published
New York : Amazon Crossing Kids 2020.
Language
English
Spanish
Main Author
María Wernicke (author)
Other Authors
Lawrence Schimel (translator)
Edition
First edition
Item Description
"Previously published as Hay dias by Calibroscopio Ediciones in Argentina in 2012."
Physical Description
1 volume (unpaged) : color illustrations ; 23 cm
Audience
380L
ISBN
9781542022514
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

Having lost her father, a grieving young girl finds a way to reconnect with him through a clothesline that's suspending two large red quilts. When she spreads her arms and pushes back the opening, she emerges into an imaginary space where she can find her father once again. In this world, he is there wearing a bright red coat and the two "swim" over the tall, waving grass toward each other and embrace. But some days, the quilts aren't drying on the clothesline. On those days, her understanding mother changes her dress from gray to red as the two hug, acknowledge the sadness, and emphasize the reassuring warm bond of love and memories "forever and ever." Spare text and generous white space bring attention to the subtle drawings done with acrylics in a limited palette of gray, black, and red. Children can find clues beginning on the title page: "SOME" is written in black, "DAYS" in red. Award-winning Argentinian author-illustrator Wernicke presents a poignant work with a comforting resolution.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

This brief, wistful exchange between a mother and her child delivers its emotion between the lines, and Schimel's translation handles the understatement deftly. The two sit at the table after a meal, the scene and colors gray and quiet. "In our yard, there's a passageway," the child says, picturing the mother walking out into the garden with a basket of laundry. She pins two enormous scarlet sheets to the clothesline, and the child twists up inside one of them. Though the portal isn't always present, "I would like it to always be there, like today." It's a passageway to a future full of happy endings, where the child interacts with an unknown figure in a gray hat: "On the other side,// I've already learned how to swim// And it's not cold,// and there's no danger.// And nothing, nothing at all, can happen to you." The mother accepts her child's anxiety and promises only what she can deliver: "Although we may not always see it," she replies, "we can always go looking for it." Wernicke shows the two twirled up in another set of sheets, looking for the passageway together, in this portrait of a parent who hears and honors her child's words. Ages 6--8. (Nov.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Horn Book Review

In this economical, poignant picture book, a girl tells her mother about a passageway in their yard that leads to a place on "the other side" where there is "no danger" and "nothing, nothing at all, can happen to you." The illustrations tell more -- in this place, the girl gets a ride on the shoulders of a large man (possibly her father) who makes her feel safe. The child explains that the passageway is not always there, and her mother replies with the comforting words: "Although we may not always see it, we can always go looking for it." The text's few words are accompanied by beautiful, equally spare illustrations. Wernicke uses color (especially red, associated with love) and shape to add layers of meaning. Mother and child, comfortably curved shapes from gray and black acrylic paint, are surrounded by white space. Large expanses of red -- sheets hanging on a clothesline -- create the possible entry into the child's safe world where the man, wearing a red coat, stands out against the otherwise gray-and-white scene. As the mother comforts her child with hope, it is the mother who is now wearing red, symbolizing the family's connection and never-ending love. First published in Argentina, Wernicke's emotive picture book expresses a child's strong feelings about longing and safety. Maeve Visser Knoth November/December 2020 p.90(c) Copyright 2020. 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

In this Argentinian import, laundry day leads to comforting conversations about loss. The story opens upon a mother and child sitting at a table, plates empty. The somber mood is supported with the white, cream, gray, and black palette. As the youngster describes a special passageway that sometimes appears in their yard, the mother hangs two tomato-red sheets on the clothesline. On the other side of the sheets, viewers see the child diving into the grass to "swim" toward the man (presumably a close relative) who's mirroring the child's actions on the other side of the gutter. In this fantasy world, "there's no danger. / And nothing, nothing at all, can happen to you." The man's absence is not explained, but the probability that it is permanent is suggested when his porkpie hat appears on the protagonist's head at the conclusion. In Schimel's translation, Wernicke's words are few but well chosen and expertly paced, the sentences split among the pages allowing for unhurried absorption of meaning. Her curved figures are solid, with cream-colored skin; straight, black hair; and short lines for eyes. No mouths are visible, a decision that adds to the contemplative aura. Subtle patterns add interest, and red--ultimately applied to the mother--signals warmth and love. Joining the quest for the passageway, she notes: "Although we may not always see it, / we can always go looking for it." A gentle model for living while missing a loved one. (Picture book. 4-7) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.