Review by Booklist Review
Two families, two homes, two stories, one table. Set amid the sweeping hills and meadows of Appalachia, The Table begins in the home of a coal-mining family. In the kitchen, the table bears witness to the everyday joys and sorrows of the family: painting Easter eggs, sewing a church dress, learning to read, sorting bills that can be paid from those that must wait. When the family loses their home and is forced to move to a smaller one, the table is abandoned under a tree. Another family soon rescues it, and the old table becomes a new table in a home that is similarly filled with discipline, love, traditions, and gratitude. Told through poetic text and gorgeous multimedia illustrations that show hands, shoulders, the dog's whiskers, a beam of light, this book contains a simple message: we are more similar than different. Sparse, precise lines of text are scrawled on collage strips over the surface of the tabletop, which is also often the background of the pages. Pale-skinned hands and dark-skinned hands denote a racial difference between the families, highlighting, by contrast, their similarities. A beautiful allegory that will stand the test of time and be enjoyed by readers young and old alike.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Bingham (The Walk) and Blevins (the Scary Tales Retold series) collaborate on this layered work about two families who live their lives around the same kitchen table. One largely unseen child, then another, narrates, their perceptions written on thin strips shown on the table's surface. In delicate acrylic-on-paper illustrations by Caldecott Honoree Griffin, a hand or two sometimes appears, along with food and other objects. When the title opens, biscuits sit on the table, then a plate with a helping of seemingly untouched peas. That won't do, Mama warns: "There are too many starving kids in the world." Another page reveals the narrator's pale-skinned hands coloring Easter eggs. Then the child's father loses his job in the mines, and the family must move: "We all fit, except for the table." Placed outside, the object attracts attention from a second family driving by. Now another child, hands portrayed with brown skin, narrates as a second batch of biscuits graces the surface, and a second parent cares about wasting resources: "You eating that food," says Momma. When this narrator asks, "You think our table has a story?" readers already know it does--"a story only a table could tell." It's a brilliantly twined telling in which an object bears witness to the lives of two families "with parents that work hard and long hours and love each other.... Families like mine." Creator notes conclude. Ages 4--8. Authors' agent: Hannah Mann, Writers House. Illustrator's agent: Elena Giovinazzo, Pippin Properties. (Oct.)
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Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 1--3--It can be said that everything has a story to tell, but perhaps a beloved kitchen table collects the most stories of them all. From children who are not interested in eating what is placed in front of them to the many activities that take place in a family's life, a kitchen table is a place for gathering, working, playing, and remembering. And when circumstances change and a table no longer fits in one family's space, it just might find a new home where more memories can be made. This poetic picture book transports readers to life in the American countryside, where time moves slowly, home-cooked meals are frequent, and family is everpresent. No faces are ever shown, but hands are frequently used as the focal point of the illustrations. These hands are depicted in many hues and clearly showcase the work they have done throughout their lives. Perhaps most interesting is the way the text is presented, primarily in dialogue, but handwritten on rectangles of color that look like strips of paper. The choice vocabulary and onomatopoeia used within the story bring rural America to the readers' ears, and the inclusion of conversations about church, cornbread, and working class families enhance this design. Beautifully illustrated and thoughtfully written, this is a story that will encourage family discussion and reflection. VERDICT This unique addition to the shelves celebrates the American experience through the lens of a beloved kitchen table.--Mary R. Lanni
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Review by Horn Book Review
This moving narrative centers on a simple wooden table and its role in the lives of two families whose members are shown in the powerful illustrations only by their hands. A child narrator introduces readers to the table, the heart of a rural white family's home, a gathering place for meals, holiday celebrations, and life's challenges. When Papa loses his coal mining job, the family is compelled to move, leaving the table by the roadside, a poignant symbol of their loss. The narrative is then picked up by a new unnamed child after their family comes across the abandoned table. This African American family welcomes it into their home, where it is again at the center of moments of connection and celebration, this time inspiring hope and renewal. Griffin's (illustrator of Ain't Burned All the Bright, rev. 3/22) illustrations, with their vivid colors and rich textures of acrylic on wood-grain paintings, breathe additional life into the story. The brief text skillfully weaves these parallel narratives, emphasizing love and tradition. Annisha JeffriesNovember/December 2024 p.63 (c) Copyright 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
The story of a table belonging to two different families. A poor white family owns a wooden kitchen table. It holds the biscuits that Meemaw bakes, as well as the plate of peas the child narrator leaves after devouring cornbread and pork-fat pinto beans. The table also holds a book that the child reads aloud to Meemaw, who's illiterate, along with bills that Mama can't pay. The mines that have made Grandaddy sick have also left Papa unemployed, and the family soon loses their house. Since the table won't fit in their next home, they leave it on the side of the road, where a Black carpenter and his family pick it up. "This a good table right here," Daddy tells his child, the narrator of the book's second half. And once it's cleaned up, the table holds beef stew, which this youngster dislikes as much as the other child hated those dreaded peas. As the story draws to a close, the youngster wonders about the previous owners of the family's new-old table. Bingham and Blevins write with a mixture of melancholy and hope, using masterfully chosen details to draw rich portraits of two different families, each united in their love for one another. With his stunning use of textures, Griffin's ingenious mixed-media illustrations show only the characters' hands--an intriguing choice that leaves readers to fill in many gaps. A moving, elegantly constructed celebration of differences sure to foster empathy and stir the imagination. (creators' notes)(Picture book. 4-8) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
