Eleanor Coerr (1922–2010)
Author of Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes
About the Author
Eleanor Coerr was born in 1922 in Kamsack, Saskatchewan, Canada. Before becoming a children's book author, she was a newspaper reporter, an editor of a column for children, and taught children's literature at Monterey Peninsula College and creative writing at Chapman College in California. Her show more works include Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, Mieko and the Fifth Treasure, Sadako, and The Big Balloon Race. She died on November 22, 2010 at the age of 88. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
Works by Eleanor Coerr
Associated Works
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Birthdate
- 1922
- Date of death
- 2010-11-22
- Gender
- female
- Nationality
- Canada
- Birthplace
- Kamsack, Saskatchewan, Canada
- Places of residence
- Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada
- Burial location
- cremated
- Map Location
- Canada
Members
Reviews
It is a difficult question: how to breach, for our children, the concepts of death, of war, of hope, and of the inescapable. When we scale it down, to one person, to one pain, that is when we feel it the most. But when we do this, we miss out on all that surrounds it. By concentrating on one person, you can turn a mutual war into a directed crime, and there lies the danger.
It is not uplifting to see a little girl die slowly, of something she cannot understand, to have her promise of a life show more revoked, but this is not all there is to the matter. As human beings, it is easy for us to look at the suffering of a few, especially a spectacular suffering: nuclear weapons, the Holocaust, 9/11, and feel enraged.
And it should upset us. War is unequal, unfair, and makes a mockery of beauty, art, and humanity. But it is always too easy for us to forget the other side.
So many people react to this book with sorrow for the little girl, with a sense that the nuclear weapons were a tragedy, unnecessary, and inhumane. I cannot argue those points, there is far too much there, and I would never suggest that mass death is a beneficial thing.
However, we might ask ourselves where are the books about all the children the Japanese soldiers killed? Perhaps they didn't use nuclear weapons, but the Japanese practiced total war, which meant hundreds of thousands of civilians dying every month. They slaughtered children, they took slaves and worked them to death in mines.
The Japanese planned to recruit every man, woman, and child during the final invasion, to blow up American tanks with fifteen year-old boys strapped to bombs. Even after the first atomic bomb was dropped, the Japanese command--including the Emporor--rallied to continue the war, even passing off the bombing itself as an industrial accident.
It is important to recognize the suffering of others, but it seems we too often concentrate on the suffering of one person over another. Perhaps it is easier for us to concentrate this way. Perhaps it is easier to see something spectacular and terrifying like the 2,752 deaths of 9/11, and ignore the 1,311,969 Iraqis dead since. Or look at the death of Jews in the Holocaust and ignore the Poles, Romany, Atheists, and Homosexuals who died alongside them
I sometimes fear that by hiding death from our children, we do not allow them to think about death except for isolated, melodramatic stories. If we cannot learn confront death except when it spectacular, then we will never really try to stop it, because we will only focus on the rare cases, and fail to notice that people death is no less final from untreated disease as from a gun.
There is another curious fact in this story: that the little girl does not finish her thousand cranes before she dies. In the real-world events this story is based on, she did finish the thousand, and continued on until her death. Of course, since the book posits that her wish was to stay alive, perhaps the author thought that to have her reach her goal and still die would be too sad.
I find this disappointing, as the author could have transferred the wish here: that no one can stand against their own death, but even as we face our own, we may fight for something greater, we may try to fight against a world of senseless death.
Are we afraid to tell our children it is a fight we can never win? Does that make it less worth fighting? Wouldn't it be better for them to learn that now, from someone they love and trust, rather than to discover it later, when they are already in the middle of the confusions of life? What could be more disheartening than suddenly having that dream snatched away?
Perhaps I am silly to expect more of children's books than I do of adult books, but then, I've found I can expect more from children than from adults. I am of the opinion that the best way to prevent children and adolescents from sex is by giving them all the difficult, unpleasant details. I think the same goes for war. This doesn't mean showing them footage of either act, but an open, honest sit-down beats a dramatized, nationalistic euphemism any day of the week. show less
It is not uplifting to see a little girl die slowly, of something she cannot understand, to have her promise of a life show more revoked, but this is not all there is to the matter. As human beings, it is easy for us to look at the suffering of a few, especially a spectacular suffering: nuclear weapons, the Holocaust, 9/11, and feel enraged.
And it should upset us. War is unequal, unfair, and makes a mockery of beauty, art, and humanity. But it is always too easy for us to forget the other side.
So many people react to this book with sorrow for the little girl, with a sense that the nuclear weapons were a tragedy, unnecessary, and inhumane. I cannot argue those points, there is far too much there, and I would never suggest that mass death is a beneficial thing.
However, we might ask ourselves where are the books about all the children the Japanese soldiers killed? Perhaps they didn't use nuclear weapons, but the Japanese practiced total war, which meant hundreds of thousands of civilians dying every month. They slaughtered children, they took slaves and worked them to death in mines.
The Japanese planned to recruit every man, woman, and child during the final invasion, to blow up American tanks with fifteen year-old boys strapped to bombs. Even after the first atomic bomb was dropped, the Japanese command--including the Emporor--rallied to continue the war, even passing off the bombing itself as an industrial accident.
It is important to recognize the suffering of others, but it seems we too often concentrate on the suffering of one person over another. Perhaps it is easier for us to concentrate this way. Perhaps it is easier to see something spectacular and terrifying like the 2,752 deaths of 9/11, and ignore the 1,311,969 Iraqis dead since. Or look at the death of Jews in the Holocaust and ignore the Poles, Romany, Atheists, and Homosexuals who died alongside them
I sometimes fear that by hiding death from our children, we do not allow them to think about death except for isolated, melodramatic stories. If we cannot learn confront death except when it spectacular, then we will never really try to stop it, because we will only focus on the rare cases, and fail to notice that people death is no less final from untreated disease as from a gun.
There is another curious fact in this story: that the little girl does not finish her thousand cranes before she dies. In the real-world events this story is based on, she did finish the thousand, and continued on until her death. Of course, since the book posits that her wish was to stay alive, perhaps the author thought that to have her reach her goal and still die would be too sad.
I find this disappointing, as the author could have transferred the wish here: that no one can stand against their own death, but even as we face our own, we may fight for something greater, we may try to fight against a world of senseless death.
Are we afraid to tell our children it is a fight we can never win? Does that make it less worth fighting? Wouldn't it be better for them to learn that now, from someone they love and trust, rather than to discover it later, when they are already in the middle of the confusions of life? What could be more disheartening than suddenly having that dream snatched away?
Perhaps I am silly to expect more of children's books than I do of adult books, but then, I've found I can expect more from children than from adults. I am of the opinion that the best way to prevent children and adolescents from sex is by giving them all the difficult, unpleasant details. I think the same goes for war. This doesn't mean showing them footage of either act, but an open, honest sit-down beats a dramatized, nationalistic euphemism any day of the week. show less
Short, but with a depth far beyond the word count, this simple story give a human face to the suffering caused by the atomic bombs. Sadako has the entire world going for her – a born runner, swift and sure-footed, with a cheerful, eager outlook on life, Sadako dreamed of being on the running team of her junior high school.
But the year before she was to enter, she was diagnosed with the “atomic bomb disease” – leukemia. This hideous cancer ate away at her body, slowly killing her. show more Before she died, she attempted to fold 1,000 origami cranes, to fulfill a Japanese legend.
After she died, her classmates took up her cause, folding cranes and raising money, to build a memorial to Peace. Called Hiroshima Peace Park, the memorial is dedicated to the children of the world and their plea for peace. IN the center is a statue of Sadako, holding a golden crane.
Coerr tells the story with simple, precise, prose. She changed some of the actual story for fiction’s sake, but that essence remains the same – a life cut short by war.
Excellent reading for young children, a starting place to explain the war and what is can do to others. show less
But the year before she was to enter, she was diagnosed with the “atomic bomb disease” – leukemia. This hideous cancer ate away at her body, slowly killing her. show more Before she died, she attempted to fold 1,000 origami cranes, to fulfill a Japanese legend.
After she died, her classmates took up her cause, folding cranes and raising money, to build a memorial to Peace. Called Hiroshima Peace Park, the memorial is dedicated to the children of the world and their plea for peace. IN the center is a statue of Sadako, holding a golden crane.
Coerr tells the story with simple, precise, prose. She changed some of the actual story for fiction’s sake, but that essence remains the same – a life cut short by war.
Excellent reading for young children, a starting place to explain the war and what is can do to others. show less
A truly moving book about Sadako Sasaki who was a child in one of the many families who were affected by the Atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima. I first read this in 2006 when I was sent a copy (with a beautiful crafted crane as a gift) as part of a Bookcrossing Bookray. A Bookray for Peace. I read it and sent it on to the next person and it’s honestly lingered with me ever since. I finally purchased a copy this year and reread it. It’s still such a powerful read despite the 80 page size. show more I know I’ll read it again. show less
I thought that "Chang's Paper Pony" was an okay read, and I would give it three stars. The large print and short sentences made the story easy to read and comprehend, and with only three chapters I thought that the book was a good introduction to the format of chapter books. I liked that the book is set during the California gold rush, a time which coincided with the immigration of many Chinese families to America due to the war in China, because the book provides information about the time show more period without focusing on facts and straightforward discussion of historical events. Instead of taking time away from the story to explain the historical setting, the book references the time period within the context of the story, like when Chang's grandfather explains to Chang that they cannot return to China because there is a war going on there, and when Chang goes with Big Pete to pan for gold in the river. These brief references serve as a good introduction to the idea that these historical events are worth studying and that they impacted the people who experienced them in many ways. For instance, Chang's perspective as a child immigrant forced to move to California illustrates how many Chinese immigrants felt uncomfortable and uprooted as a result of the war. In this way, "Chang's Paper Pony" provides Social Studies content within the ELA classroom, which can help to create consistency between different classes. I think the "big idea" of the book is that it is important to be honest and do what is right no matter how difficult that might be. Chang could have stolen the flakes from Big Pete's floor and used them to buy his pony, but Chang does the right thing by returning the flakes to their rightful owner. Chang is then rewarded for his good deed with a pony, which I believe can have some harmful implications. Because Chang gets exactly what he wants after he gives the flakes to Big Pete, the story suggests that one should expect to always be rewarded for doing the right thing with exactly what one wants. In reality, one cannot expect to have his or her wildest dreams come true as a result of good behavior. While I was happy that Chang gets his pony, I think a better message would be that feeling good as a result of doing the right thing is a reward in and of itself. For this reason, I would give the book only three stars. show less
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