This book... I have seen it on several potential 2019 Caledecott lists. Which doesn't mean a whole lot to me, since several Caldecott books leave me cold. But then, I am not an artist, so I don't totally understand the progressive techniques illustrators might be using. However, being a potential Caldecott winner proves that the art is pretty snazzy.
And the words? Oh my.
Deep in the woods
is a house
just a house
that once was
but now isn't
a home.
First read through, I tripped and tumbled over several words. My brain has certain expectations of the next word--like the predictive text feature on a smartphone. So my brain is jumping ahead at a fast clip and before the first page was done, I realized I needed to slow down or I would mangle the story.
HOW CAN AN AUTHOR CONTROL HOW FAST I READ?
But somehow, Julie Fogliano does it. This is a slow and savoring read.
(Having just sold a house we lived in for 9 years, a house that saw two new babies, a lot of growing up, and a lot of living, this book seemed perfect. A house that once was, but now isn't a home. I had a hard time letting go of our sweet little house. We wanted more land, but we loved that house. I full on sobbed, just thinking about seeing the house empty, without us. Seeing our house lonely. But somehow, when I walked into the empty house to do a quick check before the buyer's final walk through, it was just a house, it wasn't our home anymore. And I loved it for what it gave us, but I can let it go. Because it is a house that once was.)
So this book? It might just be a timing thing, but it hit me pretty deep.
Tiptoe creep
up the path
up the path that is hiding
A path that once welcomed
A path that is winding
A path that is now covered in weeds.
The last Julie Fogliano book that I loved was When Green Becomes Tomato, a book of poetry. So it should come as no surprise that the text here is lyrical and poetic.
These two exploring friends find an abandoned house in the woods. A house that once was, but not isn't, a home.
Inside the house
it is silent but creaking.
We're whispering mostly
but not really speaking.
We whisper though no one would mind if we didn't.
The someone who once was
is someone who isn't.
The someone who once was
is gone.
The children look around the house and try to imagine the people who once lived in the house.
Who was this someone
who walked down this hallway
who cooked in this kitchen
who napped in this chair?
Who was this someone
who left without packing
someone who's gone
but is still everywhere?
Was it someone with a big beard and glasses who would look out the window and dream of the sea?
Was it someone who liked to paint squirrels in the garden?
Or a girl who liked to dance and sing to records?
Where did they go?
Or what if they're lost and they're wandering lonely? Maybe they can't find their set of house keys?
Does the house miss these people? Does it wish it were filled up with noise and with laughter? Is it lonely?
Or maybe is loves to just sit and remember
Stories of someone who we'll never know
And maybe it likes it out there in the forest
with the trees coming in where the roof used to go.
And after their adventuring, our two explorers head home to their house that is very much a home.
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