How To Fall in Love

with a picture book!

How do you know when you’re falling in love? Can you not stop thinking about your love interest? Are you intensely curious about them? Are you high on dopamine? These are some telltale signs that you’re falling in love, but these responses aren’t solely for lovers. Scientists have found that when we look at art or things we consider beautiful, the activities in the pleasure and reward centers in the brain go up — confirming what most of us already know: art can make us feel good.

This intense attraction to something, most specifically art, is explained beautifully by the writer Ursula K. Le Guin in her introduction to The Complete Orsinia: Malafrena / Stories and Songs: 

“Being in love—falling in love”—now I understand it—now I know what it means—what happens to me when I am writing: I am in love with the work, the subject, the characters, and while it goes on & a while after, the opus itself.—I function only by falling in love: with French and France; with the 15th Century; with microbiology, cosmology, sleep research, etc. at various times—I could not have written A Week in the Country without having fallen in love with current DNA research! All very strange; is this feminine? do men fall in love this way? They certainly do in the usual way because the poems about sleeplessness & not eating & all the world being an appendage of the Beloved are by men—I expect they too fall in love with the Revolution of 1830, or a dead Russian, or a sentence in Italian, or what have you. What it is I suppose is the creative condition as expressed in human emotion and mood—So it comes out curiously the same whether sexual or spiritual or aesthetic or intellectual.”

This feeling that Le Guin writes about — the creative impulse — driven by and expressed as a reaction to falling in love is exactly what I experienced while reading the picture book How To by Julie Morstad back in 2014. I was a new mom eager to introduce my baby daughter to the world of books. I read to her while she was in the womb. I bought all the board books, pop-up books, and black-and-white books. Her nursery looked more like a library than a cozy place to sleep (which worked out because she didn’t sleep there for her entire first year of life!). Reading together was our favorite shared activity; it still is. What surprised me from this experience is that I was the one who fell madly in love with books, or rather re-fell in love with them, except this time it was with picture books.

Being reunited with childhood favorites like Madeline and Goodnight Moon felt wonderfully nostalgic, but it wasn’t until I read How To that I recognized how experimental and exciting the picture book is as an art form. This book is refreshingly designed with Morstad’s impeccable line drawings, pops of vivid colors (Morstad is a master at color combinations), and abundant white space. The text is sparse. There’s no plot, distinct characters, or setting — which seems cold but is actually what makes this book special — it allows readers to project their imaginations onto the pages. The irony of this book is that it doesn’t teach us how to do anything because teaching children how to be children is ridiculous (although adults try to do this all the time, especially in books). Pedagogical kids’ books are so customary in our culture that it’s shocking to encounter a book that lets kids be kids. It was this eye-opening reading experience that made me fall in love with How To and with picture books as Art.

What’s brilliant about this book is how it embodies the magic of childhood and the magic of kids’ books simultaneously. Morstad’s simple lines like “how to be a mermaid” and “how to go slow” are juxtaposed with playful, unexpected images. For example: “how to make a sandwich” shows a drawing of a group of kids piled inside a stack of mattresses. And like with all good picture books, the text and images work together, and sometimes, contradict each other — creating space for the reader to make their own interpretations — which is what children do every day: they use their imaginations to learn about the world.

Much like How To, this newsletter hasn’t explicitly taught you how to fall in love with a picture book, but hopefully, it’s a reminder that the things you value about childhood: creativity, playfulness, experimentation, ingenuity, wonder — these are things to look for in picture books. Like children, books are inventive. They encourage new ways of seeing — and what’s not to love about that. 

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Honorable mentions that also gave me that strange, thrilling, falling-in-love feeling:

Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak (1963)

I think Where the Wild Things Are is my favorite Maurice Sendak book, which is probably what most people would say, and therefore makes me feel uncool. I know it wasn’t Sendak’s favorite book of his. But is any artist’s most famous work their favorite? Not usually. I also think many picture book experts, while massively respecting Where the Wild Things Are, wouldn’t say it’s his best book. I won’t argue that opinion, yet I can’t deny my feelings for it. It’s like falling in love; you can’t control it. It’s an incredible book! Every part of this book’s design helps to tell its story. It has an intriguing title, a beautiful cover, and a very satisfying trim size. When I was young, it entranced me with its gripping text, hypnotic rhythm, and exhilarating pace. Although, I don’t think I understood what the book was about. I just knew I was affected. I think that’s why this book sticks with so many readers: they deeply feel this book.

As an adult reading it to my children, I can see how it works, which surprisingly, only makes me love it more. My son adores the wordless wild rumpus spreads with Max and the Wild Things howling, dancing, and swinging from trees. But as a parent, I appreciate the last two spreads where Max returns to his bedroom to find his supper waiting for him, and it’s still hot. As a mom, I recognize this loving act. Max doesn’t change; he doesn’t say he’s sorry, he’s likely going to misbehave again in a few minutes, but his mother still loves him. It’s such a powerful ending, yet it’s tremendously subtle, much like the act itself.

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Du Iz Tak? by Carson Ellis (2016)

Some adults love performing picture books aloud to kids, and some don’t. I happen to be the former, but I didn’t know this about myself until I started reading books to my children, most specifically, until I read Du Iz Tak? to them. This book is about the lifecycle of a flower told from the perspective of bugs, but here’s the catch: it’s written entirely in bug language! There are no English words in this story; it’s all made up! For adults who don’t love performing books out loud, I can see how this book presents a challenge — it takes a bit of panache to pull off. But thankfully, kids are the best interpreters of experimental stories, and they’re able to help timid readers. It’s so fun, especially the spread where the flower has finally bloomed. The bugs all exclaim, “Unk gladdenboot!” a phrase utterly delightful to say out loud and that my kids have translated to: “It’s beautiful!”

If you like performing kids’ books out loud, try these too:

• The Wolf, the Duck, and the Mouse written by Mac Barnett and illustrated by Jon Klassen (2017)

• Clementine written by Sarah Pennypacker and illustrated by Marla Frazee (2006)

• Gaston written by Kelly DiPucchio and illustrated by Christian Robinson (2014)

• The First Cat in Space Ate Pizza written by Mac Barnett and illustrated by Shawn Harris (2022)

• No More Monsters for Me! written by Peggy Parish and illustrated by Marc Simont (1987) — Can we talk about the opening where the daughter Minneapolis Simpkin (great name!) says, “Mom and I always yell a lot. But this time she was really mad. And so was I.” You never see this truth in kids’ books!

• I Want My Hat Back by Jon Klassen (2011) — A massive favorite in our house, but I’ve run out of space to do it justice. Another time!

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