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1999 Caldecott Award Winner: Snowflake Bentley
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From: lhendr at unm.edu <lhendr>
Date: Thu, 4 Feb 1999 09:34:11 -0700 (MST)
I read Snowflake Bentley for the first time last week. My impression was "nice book," and I returned it to the library. Monday's announcement sent me scurrying back. Was I ever surprised, especially when I looked at the honor books, all of which I liked, all of which seemed much more dramatic and impressive than the winner, and none of which I'd seen before except Tibet through the Red Box! I still haven't seen Snow.
But, as I spent more time with all of the books, Snowflake Bentley, modest as it seemed exerted a growing power. I, too, was pleased that a picturebook biography, a nonfiction book, was a Caldecott winner. There was a nice connection between it and one of my favorite books last year, Walter Wick's Drop of Water, which was in part inspired by Bentley. I've owned and loved Bentley's Snow Crystals for most of my life, but had never realized how simple and modest his background was. Somehow, Mary Azarian's art, and Martin's simple, poetic text was most appropriate for the subject.
And, as I spent more time with the book, it began to seem that the art, like Bentley's incredible achievement was not so modest and simple afterall. I haven't done any checking of other books with woodcuts, but I can't recall another similar use of water colors with wood cuts, where the overlaid water colors play such a strong role in creating depth and texture, the contours of the snow, for example. In some of the illustrations, such as the wonderful two-page spread of Bentley, back toward us in the upper right hand corner, walking off the page in the midst of the all encompassing blizzard, the inked lines of the woodcuts are but a small part of the image. That picture alone conveys so much about Bentley that it could be taken as a summary of the man, his life, and his achievements.
There was a thrill last night when I looked at "Snow Crystals" and saw the photograph of the grasshopper covered with dew. "Snowflake Bentley" inspires me to want to know more about this man, and to somehow get inside the mystery, just as he tried to get inside the mystery of snow. It also seems somehow fitting, that in this age of high tech, that this is a book that returns to the simplest elements, using woodcuts, the oldest form of book illustration, to tell the life story of a man whose focus was also on something as "common as dirt," -- snow -- something most of us take for granted, something that surrounds us but that we never truly see. In this, too, the book, like Bentley, is childlike, showing us the familiar with fresh eyes.
I agree with Walter's comments about the usefulness of this book in the classroom. It also seems to have just the right balance between words and text, and the text, like the pictures is strong enough to work on many levels. As a parent and teacher, this book inspires me to think about Willie Bentley and his parents, especially his mother, and where they got the faith and knowledge to know how to support their unusual child. And, as one of my students pointed out, the book shows that success is not always materialistic. Bentley was an unusual person -- one of a kind -- just as each snowflake is one of a kind. So, is each one of us one of a kind, making a unique contribution, no matter how small, before we melt away.
I, too, like Walter, immediately noticed that the snowflake side panels were repeated, and thus the snowflakes on them were not unique. But, this, too, can be a valuable teaching point about how the panel was reproduced (how much more work it would have been for Azarian to cut a new panel for each page -- and would that have added to or distracted from the impact?). Which raises another mind-boggling question about how with the billions, zillions (can there possibly be a number that encompasses all the snowflakes that are and have been and ever will be in this world?) each snowflake can really be unique?
Perhaps a modest book that sends at least one reader off on these kinds of tangents is not so modest after all?
Linnea
Linnea Hendrickson Albuquerque, New Mexico Children's Literature: A Guide to the Criticism (1987) at: http://www.unm.edu/~lhendr Lhendr at unm.edu
Received on Thu 04 Feb 1999 10:34:11 AM CST
Date: Thu, 4 Feb 1999 09:34:11 -0700 (MST)
I read Snowflake Bentley for the first time last week. My impression was "nice book," and I returned it to the library. Monday's announcement sent me scurrying back. Was I ever surprised, especially when I looked at the honor books, all of which I liked, all of which seemed much more dramatic and impressive than the winner, and none of which I'd seen before except Tibet through the Red Box! I still haven't seen Snow.
But, as I spent more time with all of the books, Snowflake Bentley, modest as it seemed exerted a growing power. I, too, was pleased that a picturebook biography, a nonfiction book, was a Caldecott winner. There was a nice connection between it and one of my favorite books last year, Walter Wick's Drop of Water, which was in part inspired by Bentley. I've owned and loved Bentley's Snow Crystals for most of my life, but had never realized how simple and modest his background was. Somehow, Mary Azarian's art, and Martin's simple, poetic text was most appropriate for the subject.
And, as I spent more time with the book, it began to seem that the art, like Bentley's incredible achievement was not so modest and simple afterall. I haven't done any checking of other books with woodcuts, but I can't recall another similar use of water colors with wood cuts, where the overlaid water colors play such a strong role in creating depth and texture, the contours of the snow, for example. In some of the illustrations, such as the wonderful two-page spread of Bentley, back toward us in the upper right hand corner, walking off the page in the midst of the all encompassing blizzard, the inked lines of the woodcuts are but a small part of the image. That picture alone conveys so much about Bentley that it could be taken as a summary of the man, his life, and his achievements.
There was a thrill last night when I looked at "Snow Crystals" and saw the photograph of the grasshopper covered with dew. "Snowflake Bentley" inspires me to want to know more about this man, and to somehow get inside the mystery, just as he tried to get inside the mystery of snow. It also seems somehow fitting, that in this age of high tech, that this is a book that returns to the simplest elements, using woodcuts, the oldest form of book illustration, to tell the life story of a man whose focus was also on something as "common as dirt," -- snow -- something most of us take for granted, something that surrounds us but that we never truly see. In this, too, the book, like Bentley, is childlike, showing us the familiar with fresh eyes.
I agree with Walter's comments about the usefulness of this book in the classroom. It also seems to have just the right balance between words and text, and the text, like the pictures is strong enough to work on many levels. As a parent and teacher, this book inspires me to think about Willie Bentley and his parents, especially his mother, and where they got the faith and knowledge to know how to support their unusual child. And, as one of my students pointed out, the book shows that success is not always materialistic. Bentley was an unusual person -- one of a kind -- just as each snowflake is one of a kind. So, is each one of us one of a kind, making a unique contribution, no matter how small, before we melt away.
I, too, like Walter, immediately noticed that the snowflake side panels were repeated, and thus the snowflakes on them were not unique. But, this, too, can be a valuable teaching point about how the panel was reproduced (how much more work it would have been for Azarian to cut a new panel for each page -- and would that have added to or distracted from the impact?). Which raises another mind-boggling question about how with the billions, zillions (can there possibly be a number that encompasses all the snowflakes that are and have been and ever will be in this world?) each snowflake can really be unique?
Perhaps a modest book that sends at least one reader off on these kinds of tangents is not so modest after all?
Linnea
Linnea Hendrickson Albuquerque, New Mexico Children's Literature: A Guide to the Criticism (1987) at: http://www.unm.edu/~lhendr Lhendr at unm.edu
Received on Thu 04 Feb 1999 10:34:11 AM CST
