Ticktock, Banneker's Clock: A Picture Book Review and Author Interview

Congratulations to the following winners from last week's blog:

Deborah Allmand, Jana Leah, and Carol Nelson won BEHIND THESE HANDS.

Joyce Hostetter and Sandra Warren won RUN TO THE LIGHT.

Danielle Hammelef and Connie Saunders won THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM

It's amazing what you can learn through picture books. 

Ticktock Banneker's Clock is another engaging and informative picture book biography by Shana Keller. I recently featured Shana for her new book, Bread for Words about Frederick Douglass. Ticktock's text, along with illustrations by David C. Gardner, depict an important episode in Benjamin Banneker's remarkable life.

Born in 1731, Benjamin, was a self-taught free African American farmer, naturalist, author, and surveyor.  He corresponded with Thomas Jefferson on the topics of racial equality and slavery and authored several almanacs. One of Benjamin's accomplishments was carving a striking clock. The book was voted as one of the best STEM books in 2017.

REVIEW

The story opens with a beautiful drawing showing Ben working on his farm in the Chesapeake Bay.

After his harvesting work was done, he had "time to dream." Sometimes he played the flute or violin, but this day he was fascinated with the inner workings of a pocket watch.

He decided to make a time piece, one that could sit on a mantel or hang for a wall. He took the watch apart, studied the tiny gears, and made diagrams. He carved the clock pieces out of wood, but found that the pieces snapped and broke. 

So, he dried the wood--a time consuming process--and then re-carved the pieces. 

This time, the wheels, pins, and gears didn't break! He had a bell made and timed the clock with the sun. 

Neighbors from far and near came to see his invention; the clock chimed every hour on the dot for the next forty years.

Ticktock Banneker's Clock will make an excellent curriculum resource for grades K-3. Sorry, no giveaway this time, I'm adding it to my library. Instead, I asked Shana what led her to writing this book. Here's her answer. 


AUTHOR INTERVIEW

When my oldest daughter was in the first grade, she came home with a small paragraph about a man named Benjamin Banneker. Even though I had majored in African American history in college, I didn’t recall seeing his name before and suddenly, I was on this path of research that led from one surprise to another. 

After reading everything I could find online and at the library, I visited the Benjamin Banneker Historic Park and Museum in Catonsville, Maryland. I met with Justine Schaeffer the director at the time and explained my interest. We discussed all things Banneker. I toured his lands which is where the park and museum are located. I saw his recreated cabin (Banneker’s burnt down days after his death). And, I met with some of Benjamin’s collateral descendants - children of his nieces and nephews. I also met with a griot, a storyteller, who was familiar with Banneker’s history. 

I discovered many intriguing things about Benjamin Banneker. He was a landowner. He was never enslaved and mostly self-taught. He was well respected in his community and often relied upon to calculate math problems. He wrote almanacs. He corresponded with Thomas Jefferson about civil rights. He was an astronomer. He helped survey the land where the nation’s capital would stand. And of course, he built a striking clock using a pocket watch as his guide. Given all of his accomplishments, I realized there was a lot to choose from and focus on. The achievement that struck me the most was how he built his clock. Benjamin’s goal was to never stop learning, and so is mine!

The Hero Two Doors Down: A Review and Audio Book Giveaway

Congratulations to Jo Lyn Worden who won JUNK and to Dorothy Price who won BULLY.

*****

The Hero Two Doors Down is perfectly titled. Written by Sharon Robinson, Jackie Robinson's daughter, this fictionalized account of eight-year-old Steven Satlo's friendship with his hero, is a book that elementary age boys and girls will enjoy.

The year is 1948 and baseball is king. In New York, you are either a Yankees or Dodgers fan and Steve and his father share a great passion for the Dodgers. The author paints an authentic picture of the time period: neighbors sitting out on their front stoops listening to the game on the radio, going to an opening game as a huge occasion for a young boy, and school chums playing stickball together. Although Sharon Robinson says this is a work of fiction, it is based on the stories which Sharon heard her mother and Steve's mother tell. 

Central to the book is Steve's excitement when he hears that Jackie Robinson, his hero, is moving onto his street  Although this section of Brooklyn had been primarily a Jewish neighborhood, the Robinson family is one of the first black families to integrate the area. When some neighbors protest, Steve learns valuable lessons about prejudice from his father. 

Steve is thrilled when Jackie accompanies him to the school yard and teaches his peers how to slide home, provides tickets to a game for his class, as well as when he is invited to decorate the Robinson's Christmas tree. Since he's Jewish, this was a first time experience for Steve. A misunderstanding ensues when Jackie and his wife Rachel buy the Satlow's a Christmas tree--not knowing their friends are Jewish. 

In many ways Jackie Robinson was a role model and inspiration to Steve. Jackie had a rough childhood and encouraged Steve to solve problems peaceably and not with force. The two were lifetime friends and Jackie comforted and encouraged Steve after his father died. 

Chris Andrew Cuilla and Lisa Renee' Pitts both did a great job as narrators. This book would be a good classroom resource for third and fourth graders. 

To entice you, here is an audio snippet of the book and the trailer, narrated by Sharon Robinson.

Younger children will like the picture book Jackie's Gift: A Baseball Tale for the Holidays also by Sharon Robinson.

GIVEAWAY

Leave me a comment by August 23 and your email address if you are new to my blog. If you share this on social media or become a new follower of my blog I'll enter your name in the giveaway twice. 

Carver: A Life in Poems

Every once awhile I come across a book that I can't bear to give away. I'm sorry friends, but Carver by Marilyn Nelson, (Boyds Mills Press, 2001) is a book that is staying on my shelf. 

Like me, many of you probably know some of the basics about George Washington Carver's life. You may know he was born a slave in Missouri about 1864, started the agricultural department at Tuskegee Institute, and developed new uses for peanuts, cowpeas, and sweet potatoes in his desire to help poor farmers combat poverty.

Tuskegee Institute, 1916
 https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=685224

But what you probably don't know is that besides being a scientist, inventor, and botanist; he loved to sew, paint, play piano, and read his Bible. Although he never married or had children, for 47 years at Tuskegee he taught multitudes of students, personally corresponded with countless farmers who sought his help, and left a legacy of information and inspiration.  

http://www.icr.org/article/science-man-god-george-washington-carver/

Award winning author Marilyn Nelson, tells Carver's story through beautiful poetry. Sometimes the poems are from Carver's point of view and his emotions and thoughts are so well portrayed that you feel as if you are inside his skin. Other poems are written from the point of view of people who interacted with him. All of them weave together well-researched details and build a narrative of Carver's life. 

Here are a few of my favorites, but please note that I had difficulty formatting the second, third and fourth poems and had to skip lines. There are no line spaces in the original. 

The Last Rose of Summer

The paper shakes so
the words are hard to read,
but what good is a singing range
from high D to three octaves below,
what good the bold step to a larger canvas
for the yucca on the easel now,
what good piano lessons paid for
with paintings, what good
a rosebud boutonniere if Jim 

        your brother  

            smallpox    (p. 24)

***************

Four a.m. in the Woods

Darkness softens, a thin

tissue of mist between trees. 

One by one the day's 

uncountable voices come out 

like twilight fireflies, like stars. 

The perceiving self sits 

with his back against bought bark, 

casting ten thousand questions into the future. 

As shadows take shape, the curtains part 

for the length of time it takes to grasp, 

and behold, the purpose of his 

life dawns on him. (p.25)

***********

Ruellia Noctiflora 

A colored man came running at me out of the woods 

last Sunday morning. 

The junior choir was going to be singing 

at Primitive Baptist over in Notasulga, 

and we were meeting early to practice. 

I remember wishing I was barefoot 

in the heavy, cool-looking dew. 

And suddenly this tall, rawbone wild man 

come puffing out of the woods, shouting 

Come see! Come see! 

Seemed like my mary janes just stuck 

to the gravel. Girl, my heart 

like to abandon ship! 

Then I saw by the long tin cylinder 

slung over his shoulder on a leather strap 

and his hoboish tweed jacket 

and the flower in his lapel 

that it was the Professor. 

He said, gesturing, 

his tan eyes a blazing, 

that last night, 

walking in the full moon light, 

he'd stumbled on  

a very rare specimen:

Ruellia noctiflora, 

the night-blooming wild petunia. 

Said he suddenly sensed a fragrance 

and a small white glistening. 

It was clearly a petunia: 

The yellow future beckoned 

from the lip of each tubular flower, 

a blaring star of frilly, tongue-like petals. 

He'd never seen this species before. 

As he tried to place it, 

its flowers gaped wider, 

catching the moonlight, 

suffusing the night with its scent. 

All night he watched it 

promise silent ecstasy to moths. 

If we hurried, I could see it 

before it closed to contemplate 

becoming seed. 

Hand in hand, we entered 

the light-spattered morning-dark woods. 

Where he pointed was only a white flower 

until I saw him seeing it. (p. 73-4)

********* 

My Beloved Friend 

Letter to Jim Hardwick, April 1924 

Your letter touched me deeply. How I wish 

I was more worthy of the things you say 

about me. I love you more dearly because 

you are of another race. God is using you 

to teach the world the brotherhood of man, 

the fatherhood of God. How sweet it is 

to let God purge our souls of ego and 

bitterness, and to have a little taste 

of heaven here on earth. I trust you will pray 

for me, that I get rid of my littleness. 

I did not have to learn to love you: You 

were chosen for me. I knew that the first 

time I saw you. It was the Christ in you, 

of course. (p. 86)

I read this book because I thought Carver could be an inspiration for Lillie, my African American character in Half-Truths. What I didn't expect, is how much Nelson's poetry and Carver's life would inspire me. 

Mississippi Trial, 1955: A Book Review and a Writing Exercise

I recently submitted the fourth draft of Half-Truths to Rebecca Petruck for her critique. In a future blog I'll clue you in on my marching orders for Draft #5, but today I'm sharing a specific part of her feedback about writing scenes. This is a longer blog than normal, so grab your favorite beverage and get ready to learn about a great book and about the writing craft. 

Craft-wise, writing scenes is your weakest element. That’s partly why I asked you to write the slow down scene. You might want to read Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld. For exercises, I suggest choosing a few scenes from three novels and deeply analyze the arc—what did the MC want as she entered the scene? What did she get? How did the author show the external action? The internal action/reaction? How much dialogue is used relative to narrative text? How did the author set the scene? End it? 

Then, look at one of your own scenes, and critique it for the elements listed above. Does the scene have an arc? Is there room for the reader to experience what’s happening? Time for the reader to feel what’s happening? How might you deepen the scene? How might you create more tension? Raise the stakes? - Rebecca Petruck

The first novel I chose to study scene making was the award winning book, Mississippi Trial, 1955 by Chris Crowe. I anticipated learning more about Jim Crow. I gained that, and much more.

Crowe's debut novel (Penguin Putnam, 2002) is based on the true story of the kidnapping and murder of Emmett Till. Crowe created a believable white protagonist, Hiram Hillburn, whose life is irrevocably changed following Emmett's kidnapping and murder. 

As a young child, Hiram spent several years in Greenwood, Mississippi living with his paternal grandparents. He has fond memories of Grampa Hillburn and a town steeped in cotton and Southern traditions. Hiram doesn't understand the deep conflict between his father and grandfather and blames his father for the alienation between the two men.

At 16, Hiram returns to Greenwood after his grandfather suffers a stroke and meets Emmett who is in town visiting his uncle. Hiram reconnects with R.C. Rydell, a boyhood friend who drinks too much and bullies Negroes; and R.C.'s sister Naomi who he likes. R.C. convinces Hiram to go fishing together, and the two meet up with Emmett who is cooling off in the river. R.C. mercilessly bullies Emmett while Hiram stands by helplessly. Afterwards he feels ashamed of himself and later becomes convinced that R.C. was involved in Emmett's death. 

This scene follows Hiram reading a newspaper report of Emmett's death:

When I put the newspaper down, my hands were shaky and cold. Emmett was dead, murdered. The article said nothing about R.D. Rydell, but I figured the sheriff must still be looking of him. Was R.C. involved in the murder? I knew he was, and I hoped the police would find him--soon.    

And what about Naomi? If R.C. skipped town or ended up in jail, she'd be left alone with her dad. I didn't even want to think how much more miserable her life might become in that shack down along the Yazoo.    

Grampa interrupted my thoughts when he whistled softly after reading the article. "I can't believe they killed that boy." He rubbed his hand across his face and muttered to himself, "There's going to be hell to pay now." He still looked pale as he folded the paper on his lap, creased it carefully in half, and set it on the table next to his chair. "Hiram, those boys went too far, way too far. For his sake, I sure hope your friend [R.C.] wasn't involved in this mess. I never did think much of R.C. Rydell, but I never took him for a murderer."    

"R.C.'s not my friend, Grampa," I reminded him without looking at him. "I told you how he acted."  

 "Of course he's not your friend. A Hillburn usually has better sense than getting mixed up with people like these." Grampa rapped his knuckles on the folder newspaper. "People all over the United States are hearing about what's happened down here and wondering what kind of uncivilized brutes live in Mississippi. Those peckerwoods who did this are a shame to all of us in the Delta. No self-respecting Southern gentleman would lover himself to of this far."    

Grampa's reaction bothered me. He seemed more concerned bout the negative press than about what had happened to Emmett Till.    

He kept on complaining. "The radio said that colored boy's mama up in Chicago is blaming everyone in Mississippi for what's happened, said she said, 'The entire state of Mississippi is going to pay for this.' The woman's grief is understandable, Hiram, but she's go tho cause to blame all of us for what a couple redneck peckerwoods did in the middle of the night.  

 "Before we know it, the NAACP and all those bleeding-heart Northerners are going to use this as another excuses for integration. They're going to come down here and cry about how we treat our Negroes and how we've got to mix the races in our schools. That's what really makes me mad, son: Those ignorant boys have stirred up a hornet's next of trouble."    

"But what about Emmett?" I asked. "They killed him. Doesn't that make you mad?"    

"Of course those boys went too far. Whatever that colored boy deserved, he didn't deserve getting shot and tossed into the Tallahatchie, that's for sure."      

I wanted to yell at Grampa. A boy was murdered just for acting cocky! I wanted to say something, something mean and hard that would knock some sense into him, but I knew nothing I could say would change him, and I had a glimpse into why Dad and Grampa never got along. (p. 123-5)

*******

Here are Rebecca's questions:

What did the MC want as he entered the scene? 

Hiram wants comfort/justice over Emmett's death. 

What did he get? 

He got a "glimpse" into why his father and grandfather don't get along, and a new picture of his grandfather. 

How did the author show the external action? 

Reports the grandfather complaining, shows Hiram arguing.

The internal action/reaction? 

Hiram's observation that his grandfather was more concerned about negative press than justice is a huge "Aha!" moment. His appreciation for his father initiates a change in his attitude. 

How much dialogue is used relative to narrative text? 

Dialogue and internalization carried this scene; not much narration. 

How did the author set the scene?

"When I set the paper down." Opens the scene.

End it? 

With Hiram's new realizations. 

********

I picked this scene because it was pivotal to Hiram's burgeoning questions of the culture he accepted as a child as well as his new understanding of the tensions between his father and grandfather. The reader sees Hiram's conclusions so that when there is a switch at the end, Crowe has paved the way for a surprise ending. 

Rebecca has told me before that I need to go deeper into my character's internal experiences (I guess I'm a slow learner!). But copying out a scene pushed me inside Hiram. I saw his grandfather and father in new ways and found a model for what I needed to work on in Half-Truths.

How about you? Have you ever deeply studied a scene from a novel? If not, I hope you'll try this exercise. If you have, what book did you study? I'd love to hear from you. 

And I hope you'll read Mississippi Trial, 1955. You won't regret it; and besides, you need to discover the surprise ending which wraps up this important book so well.