Sherry Garland wrote and Tatsuro Kiuchi illustrated this 1993 book about Vietnamese refugees who carry with them a piece of their heritage as they adapt to life in a new country. (So I guess I have now found immigration stories from a whole lot of countries...literature unit, perhaps?) Even though neither Garland nor Kiuchi are of Vietnamese heritage, I think that they do an excellent job of portraying the culture with sincerity and cultural accuracy.
For all of the crazy, busy, squished with detail illustrations I have been looking at in many of these books, this much more sedated style is almost like a breath of fresh air. Kiuchi's illustrations are always single page frames (alternating from the verso to the recto) opposite the text of the book. (A couple of times as the character goes on her journey, he takes up both sides of the book, showing the movement taking place.) He exclusively uses oil paints to create lush, emotional portraits. They remind me of something you would see in the 'classic' section of an art museum, right next to a Rembrandt or Van Gogh. Though there is a hint of impressionism, the images are usually realistic. Kiuchi uses subdued, emotional earth tones of browns, reds, and oranges to evoke a sentimental, thoughtful mood.
The text begins when the last emperor of Vietnam abdicates his throne. In order to remember him (and the ties to a past culture in her country), a little girl steals a lotus seed and hides it in her home. The story continues to follow her as she gets married, has children, and flees the country during war. We see her adjust to a new life in the US. As an old woman, when she thinks her seed is missing, she mourns the loss of the cultural tie she had to her home country. Luckily, things work out in the end, as the 'flower of life and hope' reemerges. In the end, her granddaughter receives a new lotus seed, carrying on the traditions of her culture.
Both the text and images are simple, yet elegant. With so few words, the story fills the reader with a multitude of emotions. It is a story of hope and continuity, even in the face of great change. I would love for my students to hear this and know that whatever comes in their way, life continues on.
When I read this wordless picture book by Shaun Tan (2006), I was rendered speechless. I'm not even exaggerating. I probably pored over the pages for an hour. My belief that wordless picture books are for babies? Gone. Let me tell you about this book.
Everything about it is a masterpiece-- the cover design is made to look like a tattered scrapbook/photo album (indicative of the theme) while the endpages feature rows of wallet-sized photos of immigrants of all ethnicities. The illustrations that fill the book are so luminous, you don't even notice the fact that there are no words of text (unless you count invented symbols as text) nor is there any color. All of the images are either in black/white or sepia tone. The lack of color is especially effective, since Tan often uses light and shadows to illuminate feelings and express somber, frightful, and contemplative moods. For all of the realism portrayed in the emotions of the characters and attention to detail in everyday objects, Tan is by and large a surrealist artist. The world of our lone traveler is filled with strange, almost haunting creatures and bizarre landscapes. His illustrations are not for the faint of heart-- they will scare you and make your eyes well up with tears.
Besides just staring at the aesthetics, Tan has a brilliant story to tell. One man sets out alone, leaving his family behind, to journey to a new country. His land is in ruin, so he must earn enough money to bring his wife and daughter over. He has no idea what strange new ways of life lie ahead of him. Tan alternates between single and double page bleeds designed to make us soak in the surroundings and hang out for a while; then he will have pages of small vignettes, where we get a sense of the passing of time, or the occurrence of an important event. The scenes where he must attempt to communicate with others through gestures and symbols are powerful. Tan's use of an invented language help the reader feel just how hard it would be to be immersed in a completely new world.
The only challenge with this book is that you really have to have this book in your hands...it doesn't work as a read aloud. That being said, I could absolutely see projecting some pages as discussion starters about immigration and the immigrant experience. I could also use this as a clear illustration of visual literacy-- teaching students how to read a narrative through solely pictures. The Arrival compels you to keep turning the page until it is over...then open it up and read it again. This man deserves some major awards for this book.
