When You Trap a Tiger

When You Trap a Tiger by Tae Keller, 2020

Recommended for grades 4-8; magical realism

This book is currently number two on my list of best middle grade books of 2020. (My top favorite so far, by the way, is From the Desk of Zoe Washington, but I’m not writing about that today because I finished it a couple months ago and don’t have a copy right here with me) When You Trap a Tiger is essentially a magical realism story that gets its magical elements from Korean folklore. In my personal opinion, magical realism for children isn’t often well-written, so this stands out as a book that pulls it off well. That may be largely because it grounds itself in the real world a little more than most magical realism by having the characters acknowledge and question the strangeness of the magical elements. In fact, it draws heavily on the fantasy/horror/adventure trope in which a child protagonist needs to act in secret because adults won’t understand or believe what’s happening. In this case, though, there is one adult who understands the magic; the problem is that no one really takes her seriously either.

The story begins when Lily and her mother and teenage sister Sam move in with Halmoni. (That’s the Korean term for grandmother) Lily admires her grandmother’s style and quirks, but to everyone else, Halmoni seems eccentric and very superstitious. Later, Lily finds out that other kids call Halmoni a witch. Another thing Lily doesn’t realize until later is that the real reason for the move is that Halmoni is seriously ill. She has brain cancer which is making her even more eccentric, and sometimes delusional. At least, that’s what everyone else thinks. Lily thinks that the things Halmoni is saying are true. She believes it when Halmoni tells her that, as a child in Korea, she stole stars out of the sky and put them into jars because they were stories that were too dangerous to tell, and that she has since been hiding them from the tigers, who want them back. It sounds crazy, but it must be true, because Lily keeps catching glimpses of a tiger who is clearly after her grandmother.

When the tiger finally speaks to Lily, it’s to offer a deal. If Lily returns the stories to the tiger, the tiger will heal Halmoni. Lily knows from all the stories that tigers aren’t to be trusted, but she doesn’t know what else she can do that might help her grandmother. Together with Ricky, a friendly boy she met at the library, Lily builds a tiger trap in the basement. (She repeatedly tells Ricky that it’s “hypothetical”) After stumbling across old jars which she realizes must contain the stories, she decides to use them as bait. The magical talking tiger, of course, is too powerful and crafty to be contained by a trap. So Lily gives in to the tiger’s offer and agrees to exchange the stories for her grandmother’s health. That doesn’t work, either. At a couple points, Halmoni temporarily seems to be feeling fine, but in actuality, her health is rapidly deteriorating, and there’s nothing Lily can do about it.

The tiger later tells Lily, “Healing is not always about curing illness. Often, it is about understanding. And when you face your whole story, you can understand your whole heart.” While that’s an unsatisfactory and somewhat corny resolution for the storyline of Halmoni’s illness, (I frankly would have preferred to just accept that the tiger was lying and making false promises all along) this book also contains numerous subplots about family relationships and friendship, which fall into place more nicely.

Over the course of the story, Lily gradually stops being “invisible”, which she describes as a secret power at the beginning of the book, even though it’s actually something she dislikes about herself. She is what her sister Sam calls a “QAG”, which stands for Quiet Asian Girl. While that’s true, Lily dislikes being seen that way, and she’s irritated that her mother considers Lily and Sam to be exact opposites. Sam herself is opinionated, rebellious, and, as Lily puts it, “sticky”. That is, people stick to her; she makes friends easily. Lily considers herself very much “un-sticky”, so her friendship with Ricky comes across as significant character development. 

Meanwhile, various conversations throughout the story raise interesting philosophical questions, mostly about the meaning of bravery, the value of storytelling, and the fact that a person can have somewhat contradictory traits. (In particular, that Lily’s own quiet demeanor can coexist with a courage fueled by fierce loyalty) Most of the main characters, certainly including Lily herself, are determined to be brave and strong, especially when it comes to protecting their loved ones. Although the tiger is literally real in this story, she also comes across as a metaphorical image of courage and power. By the end of the book, it has been established that to equate a person with a tiger is to compliment that person. I felt that Tae Keller did a good job of explaining the imagery clearly enough to keep this book within a child’s comprehension, but without letting the story become intellectually condescending.

It is also established that Halmoni was indeed wrong to steal stories so that they couldn’t be told. Stories are meant to be told, even the “dangerous” ones. In keeping with the folkloric background, there’s also a hint that stories can be changed. One moment I particularly liked was when Lily and Sam realized that they had been remembering completely different versions of one particular story, even though it’s one that Halmoni told them many times. Since it’s about two sisters and a grandmother, Lily takes the story very personally. It’s mentioned frequently throughout the book. But Lily remembered a happy ending and thought that the younger sister was the main character, and Sam remembered a sad ending and thought that the older sister was to blame. Although she tells Lily that the story is “the worst”, it seems that she also feels that it has personal significance. As a side note, Sam’s personality and character arc are just as well-developed and interesting as Lily’s. I could easily imagine this book being rewritten as a YA novel from Sam’s perspective.

When You Trap a Tiger would be a great book to recommend to middle-grade readers who have already read and enjoyed other books inspired by folklore, such as those by Grace Lin. I’m specifying her because she’s a big name in Chinese American literature, and children who are familiar with her stories will likely be intrigued to compare and contrast the Korean folktale elements with the Chinese ones. However, despite its magical elements, this book will also have appeal factors for readers who typically prefer realistic fiction. The themes and subplots involving family relationships, struggling to make friends, coping with illness and death, and facing fears are all things that are presented realistically and believably in this book.

Picture Books of Early 2020

I haven’t yet gotten around to posting anything about books published during this calendar year, so even though I have read a few middle-grade novels, (a few of which are certainly worth blogging about) I’m going to kick off my 2020 recommendations with a list of picture books. I’ve probably only read around thirty or forty so far. But that’s more than enough to form a list of the ones I particularly recommend. Although it wasn’t entirely intentional, I realize that there are a couple recurring themes in this list; it has a lot of African American books and books with mixed-media illustrations.

Jack Goes West by Mac Barnett and Greg Pizzoli

This first one is an early reader rather than a standard picture book, and it’s actually long enough to be divided into chapters. It’s the fourth in a series of silly stories about Jack, an anthropomorphic animal who, for some reason, is sometimes a monkey and sometimes a rabbit. (My guess is that there are multiple editions of all four books even though I’m not finding all of them online, and that Jack was originally a monkey. Evidently, this edition is a re-release, but since it depicts Jack differently than the original, I feel like it’s fair to count the new edition as a 2020 book.) Jack seems reminiscent of Curious George, with a human companion called only “the Lady” as a counterpart to “the man in the yellow hat”. In this book, Jack and the Lady travel to the Old West, where they foil a bank robber who tried to frame Jack for the crime. Meanwhile, there are cacti, cattle, and rope tricks to set the scene and a romance with a not-so-surprising twist. Spoiler alert: the Lady’s love interest turns out to be the bank robber! It’s an impressively complex story considering the kindergartner-friendly controlled vocabulary and simple sentence structure. In fact, it more than makes up for its derivative main character and setting by packing so many plot points and so much action and humor into such an easy-to-read format. This seems like a great new series for beginning readers, so I’m glad to see that there are three more scheduled to be released later this year.

Big Papa and the Time Machine by Daniel Bernstrom, pictures by Shane W. Evans

Grade-school-aged children who think they’re too old for picture books should give this one a try. Although the title and the cover art have a Back-to-the-Future-esque vibe, it’s less of an adventure story and more of a sentimental, personal story. The narrator is a young boy who is scared to go to school. His grandfather, “Big Papa” uses the car as a time machine to show the boy various times in his life when he had to do something that frightened him, (not exactly told in chronological order) from his childhood in a sharecropper family to an elderly man suddenly tasked with raising his infant grandson. The phrase “that’s called being brave” is repeated at every scene, including the end when they arrive at the grandson’s school and Big Papa admits that he’s scared, too; the boy is growing up too fast. The author’s note confirms the fairly obvious fact that this story is partly autobiographical. “Big Papa” is based on the author’s grandfather. The informational aspect of this story is balanced out by the stylized mixed media artwork, featuring mostly yellows and blues, which maintains the whimsical and fantastical element of the time travel plotline with lots of abstract swirls and stars.

Two Little Trains by Margaret Wise Brown, illustrated by Greg Pizzoli

This is a new edition of a book originally published in 1949, but with completely different illustrations that are simpler, brighter, and a little more abstract than the original. According to a note on the copyright page, these new illustrations were done with “custom-made rubber stamps and Adobe photoshop”, creating a textured effect that strikes me as old-fashioned in a pleasantly nostalgic way. Today’s young readers might not notice the “vintage”-ness of the overall look, but they’ll be drawn to the brightness, color contrast, and simple, clearly defined shapes. Meanwhile, Margaret Wise Brown’s timeless text is rhythmic, poetically repetitive, and beautifully descriptive despite its simplicity. Of course, the subject matter is another appeal factor. Train books are always popular. I’d highly recommend this book for a train storytime, and I could also easily imagine working it into a western theme. (The text frequently reiterates that the trains are going West, and the final couple pages show cacti) Because of its brevity and the simplicity of the plot, this book would actually be appropriate for toddlers as well as preschoolers. In fact, I think that Pizzoli’s new illustrations lower the age of the target audience slightly from that of the original.

Magnificent Homespun Brown: A Celebration by Samara Cole Doyon, illustrated by Kaylani Juanita

This book is a list of different kinds of browns, described in terms of shade, texture, or emotions. (For example, there’s “deep, secret brown”, “amber brown”, and “smooth, creamy brown”) Each is first described with several lines of descriptive, adjective-rich, grammatically complex free-verse poetry, and then with a simple, concise phrase relating it to the narrator of that particular page. (The “deep, secret brown” is “like my eyes,” the “amber brown” is “like my hair,” and the “smooth, creamy brown” is “like my laughter”) These narrators are all African American girls and they’re each depicted doing something fun and happy, generally with family members. The overarching message is clearly about cultural pride and self-esteem, but there’s also something to be gleaned in terms of observing and appreciating the small details in everyday life. I think my favorite thing about this book, (even though this is far from a unique concept) is the use of a single color as a theme that connects so many different people and scenarios. 

Under the Lilacs by E. B. Goodale

Kate wants to run away. Her mother, who teaches flute lessons from home, and her sister Hannah are both too busy for her, and Kate is hurt when her mom doesn’t react to her note. So Kate decides to run away and stay under the nearby lilac bush. She builds a cardboard structure to live in and a mailbox so that her pen pal can still write to her. And Mango, the cat, moves in with her. Kate later decides that Hannah can move in, too, and then her mom also. (This is just because Mango misses them, of course) Actually, it’s a little unclear whether this is reality or Kate’s imagination at this point, especially because the words are still written in the conditional future. (That is, it says things like “she would” and “she could” instead of “she will” or “she does”) But either way, the story ends happily with Kate moving back into the real house, all hurt feelings evidently forgotten. The artwork features mainly pastel colors and a variety of textures; it’s so interesting that I checked not only the note on the copyright page but also a couple youtube videos to get an idea of the techniques involved. All of the dark lines are thick and black and imprecise, while the background colors are pale and soft with fine brushstrokes. In a way, the art makes the lilac bush the most prominent “character”, because its flowers are the most detailed feature and its leaves the most solidly-colored. Such is the power of mixed media and digital collage.

Bedtime for Sweet Creatures by Nikki Grimes, illustrated by Elizabeth Zunon

This story is told in third person from the perspective of the protagonist’s mother, who is trying to put her “sweet creature” to bed. But our protagonist is not sleepy. (Also, there are monsters, and she needs a drink of water, and then she needs to go to the bathroom) Each exchange between mother and child depicts the child as a different type of jungle animal. The mixed-media artwork blends the best of various styles; the people are beautifully realistic with expressive faces, while the imagined animals are colorful, two-dimensional, and covered with geometric patterns, and the collage format adds texture. The blend of the real and imaginary gives this book a fanciful and exciting feel despite its common (arguably cliched) plot. Yet there’s still enough of a distinction between the real and the imaginary to avoid confusing a young reader. By the way, the author, illustrator, and characters are African American, making this one another “diverse” book. This is worth noting because the author is a Coretta Scott King award winner and the illustrator’s artistic style seems to reflect her West African background. (The quotation marks around the word “diverse” are because I personally think it’s a little odd to call an individual book “diverse”. “Diversity” should mean that we’re talking about a group and that the elements in the group are different from each other.) This would be a great addition to a preschool storytime about jungle animals, as well as a great book to have at home and read as a bedtime story.

Are Your Stars Like My Stars? By Leslie Helakoski, illustrated by Heidi Woodward Sheffield

It’s a simple question, but philosophical and difficult to answer. Do we all see things the same way? The list of questions asked in this book cover a variety of perceptions and experiences, but the recurring theme is colors. Each four-line stanza finishes by asking, “Is my {color} like your {color}?” Meanwhile, the illustrations depict several children from a variety of cultures doing everyday activities that demonstrate how different their lives are from one another. On the one hand, this is just one more book introducing children to the concept of cultural diversity and accepting other people, but on the other hand, by phrasing it as a question about color perception, I think it does a better job than most at presenting “diversity” as something that refers to the differences between individuals (and acknowledging that, to some extent, maybe there ARE things that everyone experiences the same way) rather than something that pigeonholes people into a few groups that are necessarily at odds with each other. The biggest drawback of this book for me, as petty as it may sound, is the small font size. Personally, I had a couple moments where I turned the page and couldn’t immediately see where the words were on the next page. Perhaps it’s intentional that the text isn’t very prominent on the page and won’t draw the attention of a child who is looking at the pictures while an adult reads. But if so, I think that was a poor judgment call. For a newly independent reader, it makes the book look more difficult to read than it really is. Moreover, it’s a missed opportunity to incorporate the words into the visual aesthetic of the book, which is artistically interesting and builds the important early literacy skill of print awareness.

Welcoming Elijah: A Passover Tale with a Tail by Leslea Newman, illustrated by Susan Gal

It’s the first night of Passover, and a Jewish family celebrates with a traditional Seder meal. Meanwhile, outside their home, a stray white kitten is lonely and hungry. At one point during the Seder meal, it is traditional for children to go open the door to “welcome the prophet Elijah”. This particular Passover night, when the boy in the story opens the door, he finds the kitten. The story simply ends “And that’s how Elijah found a home” with a picture of the family gathering around the boy holding the kitten, smiles on everyone’s faces. This book blends cultural information and a positive message about the joy of family celebrations with an adorable, heartwarming animal story. The beautiful, mostly-dark-toned charcoal illustrations set a peaceful tone and complement the implied themes of hope and patience. Meanwhile, simple and repetitive sentence structures give the whole story a poetic tone. The clearly stated contrast between inside/outside and the slightly more subtle contrast between light/dark are nice touches, especially since they can be clearly seen throughout the book in both the text and the illustrations.

I Go Quiet by David Ouimet

This book is very different than the others on this list. It’s dark and eerie and somewhat bizarre. That’s already clear from the cover art, in which the main character is wearing an animal mask. The intricate illustrations inside the book, mostly in black and white, show her going to a place that is evidently a school, but looks more like some kind of steampunk factory, crowded with kids who carry (and sometimes wear) their own identical animal masks. There’s a giant crow in some of the pictures, and this seems significant because the perspective is often from above, as if we’re getting a “bird’s eye view” of the scene. It’s somewhat ominous. But none of the text explains the bizarre imagery. It’s sparse and simple and just describes feelings of shyness and wanting to go somewhere alone and read. My opinion is that the protagonist is a normal (but shy and quiet) girl who goes to a normal school, and all of the strange and creepy aspects of the artwork are metaphorical. Despite the simplicity of the text and the relatively low reading level, it’s a thought-provoking book that I would recommend for readers even older than the 1st-4th grade range that School Library Journal recommends. Even Booklist’s suggestion of 3rd-6th grade seems to me to underestimate the intellectualism involved in analyzing the imagery.