Booksite

Shirley Parenteau

LINGUISTIC ROAD BUMPS?

In her recent blog review, a Florida librarian called my counting book ONE FROG SANG one of her “new favorites.” Then she used a word new to me. She said the book could be used in teaching “phonological awareness.”

What? I love words, so I pulled out my dictionary.

I was reminded of the time when we were children and my younger sister set out to read the dictionary from cover to cover. I’m not sure how far she read, but of our mother and the three sisters, the dictionary enthusiast is the only one of us who did not take up writing for publication.

Maybe she got too much of a good thing. When this same sister was very young, she sneaked a bag of chocolate chips meant for holiday baking and ate the whole thing, herself. To my knowledge, she hasn’t touched chocolate in the years since.

Speaking of families, a recent book discusses words unique to individual family units. We all have them. Maybe it’s a malapropism too good to forget. Maybe it’s a toddler’s mispronunciation that becomes part of the family lexicon. Maybe it’s just a clever word play that fit a situation and has been used by the family since.

When very young, my middle child always called his gangly, stuffed sock monkey his “mumkey,” a word that in this family will always be used for those funny, soft creatures. Do you have a family word? Will you share?

Words are exciting. The language constantly changes, making word choice a vibrant part of our lives.

Whether you’re reading through the dictionary or collecting family expressions, you know that words come to life when they draw us into a story. Which brings me to the point I want to make. When planning a picture book, should a writer stick to words familiar to young readers, perhaps turning to vocabulary/age lists? Or may the writer use the vibrant words he or she feels best tell the story?

At the SCBWI conference in Los Angeles last summer, authors and illustrators gathered in a large hall to show our work. At one side, near a display of children’s writings from their country, a group from Mongolia performed haunting cultural music.

People filed by a cheese and fruit buffet. Writers paused to glance through each other’s books or to pick up cards by illustrators whose work seemed especially appealing. I chose several to send to my editor the next time she asks what type of art I’d prefer for a newly-contracted book.

Then a librarian paused by my display. She had already read ONE FROG SANG. “Has anyone questioned the words you’ve used?” she asked.

I looked at her, puzzled, and she clarified. “Have teachers suggested the language may be too difficult for primary readers?”

She was the first—and is still the only one—to ask this, at least to me. But I admit, I’ve taken a second look at the book and I wonder. Should I have used more familiar words? The very first line uses one that is unfamiliar to many early readers: All the frogs hunkered low.

Does the illustration make the word clear? I love Cynthia Jabar’s illustrations for this book. Some would look wonderful framed and hung. Does one explain the word “hunkered”? Well, not exactly. On this page, the frogs are all in the water, their eyes peering above the surface. I had actually imagined them sheltering in the grass.

When I talk to groups of early readers, I begin by asking if any of them know what “hunkered” means. None do. The word gives me a springboard into the story by explaining the meaning, then asking if the class can see the frogs hunkered in the water in the picture.

A writer should never expect illustrators to make the story clear if the text does not. At a conference years ago, a writer suggested placing ideas for illustration in a column to the right of the text. This may have worked well for her. At this most recent conference, however, art directors made it clear that such instructions insult the artist’s creative imaginations.

And why attempt to limit them? Artists are wonderfully creative people who often see more in the story than the author knew was there. They need to be free to offer their own vision of the book. And as writers, we need to remember that an artist will spent about a year with our story, investing a large part of themselves.

Our text should make the story clear to readers, especially in the case of an unusual word. But should that word be used at all or should we look for something more common? The frogs “crouched” or “sank” low, perhaps?

A picture book is meant to be read to the child. If a new word is puzzling, the adult reader can explain its meaning. More important, I think, is that children experience joy in the sound of the words. Think of Lewis Caroll’s Jabberwock: “’Twas brillig and the slivy toves.” Or so many of Dr. Seuss’s wonderfully creative inventions. They roll across the tongue and over the ear.

In learning to read, children must take one word at a time, but when read to, perhaps they hear the story as we might enjoy a painting. We may not understand it in every detail, but we can certainly find pleasure in the whole.

So I’m wondering, do unfamiliar words present lyrical language that makes reading a joy? Or are they linguistic road bumps that make reading a chore? What do you think?

As to “phonology”? My dictionary says it refers to the history and theory of speech sounds as they are used in a language. Now, see? If I had set out to make children phonologically aware, the book would have been way too stiff for any young reader, much less an editor.

As writers, we write to entertain. Our readers. Our editors. And most of all, ourselves. Are you the kind of writer who sees the story visually as you write, the pictures developing on a mental screen? This may be a problem when the artist’s vision is nothing like ours, but it can lead us to write more visual text.

When writing for children especially, we need to write with our eyes and our ears as well as our minds. What do we see in our heads as we write the story? How does the wording we choose fall on our ears? Read your picture book aloud. Does the text not only tell your story, but please your ears with the sounds you’ve chosen? How will it sound to children who are just discovering all the wonders of their world?

In ONE FROG SANG, I like the interior rhyme of “a puddle in the middle of the path.” Or “part of the bark on the tree.” And yes, the rhythm in “All the frogs hunkered low.”

Reviewers pointed out—in a good way—the unexpected use of verbs in that book. “A spring rain stormed by.” “The moon wondered down.” Frogs “kaplopped” off logs. I wasn’t deliberately trying for unusual words, I was trying for the words that best illustrated the story. And for me, “hunkered” was one of them.

I would very much like to hear your thoughts on this. Please email me at shirleyparenteau@yahoo.com. And I hope you’ll take time to visit my website at www.shirleyparenteau.com