Barry Moser

The Tinderbox, illustrated and retold by Barry Moser.

Andersen's tale of an impoverished soldier whose life is transformed by a magical tinderbox is transplanted from mythical Denmark to the mountains of Tennessee in this revisionist retelling by Barry Moser. Wending his way home at the close of the Civil War, Confederate soldier Yoder Ott finds himself a rich man after a surprise encounter with a mountain man. But even wealth can't buy him a glimpse of the beautiful mayor's daughter, Elvira show more Abernathy. Luckily, Yoder has the tinderbox, and the three supernatural canine servants that come with it...

After being disappointed by Jerry Pinkney's The Nightingale, which transplants Andersen's original tale from China to Morocco, and Deborah Hahn's The Swineherd, in which a bizarrely inappropriate happy ending is provided, I've been feeling rather wary of revisionist fairy-tales of late. How glad I am that I stumbled across Barry Moser's adaptation of The Tinderbox at just this moment, as it has reminded me that it is possible for such projects to be successful - to add a layer to our understanding of, and appreciation for, a given tale.

The theme of the soldier, returning home from war with little or nothing to his name, is one that will be familiar in many cultures, and it's clear that Moser identified this character in The Tinderbox with the history of his own part of the world. I liked that the witch becomes an old mountain man in this version, and that Yoder Ott doesn't intentionally kill him. The illustrations - full page plates facing full page text - are compelling, although I was a little disappointed in Moser's dogs, which look a little too realistic. Where are the oversized eyes? Still, this is a solid retelling, with both narrative and artistic appeal. show less

We Were Brothers is a memoir in which Barry Moser both recalls his childhood and comes to terms with what had been a difficult sibling relationship. Both Barry and his brother Tommy were raised in Tennessee during the 1940s and 1950s when Jim Crow was in full force and the KKK could openly and with wide support parade on their way to burn a cross in someone's yard. From this common beginning Barry and Tommy grew apart and race played both a real and symbolic role in keeping them apart for show more many years.

Most of the first part of the book tells about growing up, the relationships between family, neighbors and schoolmates. Throughout this section Tommy is shown through the lens it seems Barry viewed him right up until the period which takes up the latter portion of the book. It is this last part where the brothers finally share some open honesty and they come to learn that, while they are still very different, they are more alike than they ever realized.

I found the treatment of race particularly effective in this memoir. There were no attempts to either sugar-coat what was accepted as "normal" nor overly demonize anyone. Barry clearly shows his strong distaste for his brother's racist comments and feelings but demonstrates that with effort some common ground can be found and thus some progress can be made.

I came away without feeling that either Barry or Tommy reflected my personal views, yet I came away with an understanding of both and perhaps most importantly a belief that through honest grappling with divisive issues we as a species can make changes to how we live and think.

For anyone who has had a difficult relationship with a sibling, or any relative for that matter, this should serve as a wake-up call to make the necessary steps to try to mend any damage before it is too late.

Reviewed from a copy made available through Goodreads First Reads. show less

Even a decade after I first read this book it hasn't lost its power to floor me. Both the narrative and illustrations are spellbinding, and the poetry in the language of first page alone knocks the breath out of me every time I read it. Calling Through the Mickle Woods a "children's book" is criminal; it's simply one of the best things I've ever read. It is well, well, well worth seeking out a copy to own.

I'm a more-or-less fan of Palatini. The stuff of hers I like, I love. The stuff of hers I'm so-so about... well, it's just apathy all around. *shrugs*

But this one was just $2, so I picked up a copy and crossed my fingers.

It's not my *favorite* of her books (that'd be Lousy Rotten Stinkin' Grapes), but it's sure a good one! This is a funny, punny variation on Chicken Little, with earthquakes instead of acorns and ducks instead of chicks. It *does* have Palatini's standard sarcasm-laden show more characters, so if you're trying to make every book sweetness and light for your kids, pass this one by. (But if that's the case, do you really want one where a major plot point is that one critter wants to eat the others? Seriously?)

Otherwise, I recommend this one highly. show less