Susan Faust Southern discomfort

Louisiana’s Way Home

In this funny yet philosophical melodrama, 12-year old Louisiana Elefante recalls her identity crisis, forced when eccentric Granny claims “a date with destiny.” Off they go from Florida to Georgia in the middle of the night with no provisions (or money) and Granny’s toothache growing critical. It’s 1977 in an archetypal small town where the wise and wily girl, first introduced in “Raymie Nightingale,” drives a car, finds a dentist, swings a motel room, sings at a funeral, makes a friend, suffers loss and discovers her true history. (Turns out nothing about her dead parents, Granny and the family “curse” is true.) Disparate elements miraculously mesh — stars, smiles, magic, bologna sandwiches, a pet crow and cakes. Here, a two-time Newbery award winner brilliantly guides the dear Louisiana through lies, secrets, anger and abandonment and toward understanding, belonging, gratitude and forgiveness.

The Wall in the Middle of the Book

The late Sen. John McCain recently observed that “we weaken our greatness … when we hide behind walls.” This sadly relevant picture book uses tongue-in-cheek humor to make the same serious point. San Francisco author-illustrator Jon Agee cleverly puts a brick wall in the gutter of every doublepage spread. The wall is supposed to protect a small knight on the left side from wild animals and an ogre on the right. But, during wall repair, the knight doesn’t see the rising waters and alligator at his feet. Yes, it’s ogre-to-the-rescue as comical art chronicles changing conditions on both sides of the wall — celebration on the once scary side and mounting danger on the side once deemed safe. What does it all mean? Maybe something about a false sense of security or unfounded fears? Such provocative theories merit debate.

Thank you, Omu!

The more you give, the more you get. That is certainly the case in this delightful debut picture book about the grandmotherly Omu, her scrumptious red stew and an urban neighborhood of hungry folk. All day long, a “delicious smell” draws them to her top-floor apartment for a taste, most notably a little boy, a police officer and a hot dog vendor. (Others include the mayor.) By evening, Omu’s hopes of “the best dinner ever” are gone. So is the stew. “Omu” means queen in the Igbo language of Nigeria, and Omu is eventually treated like one. As in traditional nursery tales, repetition drives the telling and plays with both predictability and surprise. Bright cut-paper art conveys the warmth of a generous woman and her diverse community. This timely tale offers an alternative to the prevailing “me first” model. Sharing!

Beyond his boring cage, a lonely yellow canary befriends a solitary yellow lemon that hangs just outside the window. Thus, parallel lives cross in this modern fable about a decidedly odd couple. Trevor is a winged innocent, naively believing that this new-found friend is there for him. Quaint humor is omnipresent as the indulgent canary makes excuses for the unresponsive lemon. Example: By his own account, Trevor sings notes for a morning duet, and the lemon sings silences. Example: As for a sought-after apology, Trevor tells the lemon to say nothing if sorry for a mishap. That works! Flat acrylic-on-wood art is suitably simple with indoor and outdoor scenes united in pleasing pastels. In the end, cause-and-effect amplifies the lemon’s role as San Francisco’s Jim Averbeck deftly blends pivotal themes of childhood — risk-taking, loneliness, giving, wishful thinking and camaraderie.

Finding Langston

Between 1916 and 1970, 7 million African Americans moved north for a better life. The Great Migration is personal in this well-crafted historical novel about an 11-year old boy and his father. It’s 1946 in Chicago, and young Langston’s adjustment is rough. Beloved Mama is dead; he misses Alabama’s green and quiet; hard-working Daddy is taciturn and tired; their apartment is dingy; and bullies make school miserable. Langston’s salvation comes at a local library, surprisingly, open to all. A kindly librarian feeds him books by great black writers, especially Langston Hughes. A pretty neighbor nurtures his love of poetry. Plainspoken and in light dialect, Langston tells about uncovering the origin of his own name and finding the courage to grow. A few loose ends offer the promise of a sequel to this tender story of hardship, heart and hope.

Boats on the Bay

A sailboat, tugboat and fireboat. A kayak, dredger and water taxi. A tall ship and container ship. From dawn’s early light through darkening twilight, each appears in this ode to activity on San Francisco Bay. The culmination: a barge-generated firework display on a flashy foldout. Other double-page spreads teem with detail. Often outlined in black for a Bernard Buffet effect are piers, Victorians, bridges, a lighthouse, sea lions and the occasional whale. A Sausalito author, clearly smitten by her own spectacular views, turns to jaunty internal rhymes. “A houseboat rocks by a dock” and “a fishing boat slogs through the fog.” This mini intro to our safe harbor is perfect run-up or follow-up for a leisurely stroll along the Embarcadero, bracing bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge, or ferry tour around Alcatraz. Take-home message: Take notice.

Susan Faust is a member of the Association for Library Service to Children, most recently serving on the 2018 Laura Ingalls Wilder Award selection committee. She was a librarian at Katherine Delmar Burke School in San Francisco for 33 years. Email: books@sfchronicle.com