Originally published in 1973, this is the offbeat fable of a city mouse who visits his peaceful country cousins and tells them about Mardi Gras in the city. The country mice are inspired to have their own Mardi Gras. And at first it is fun wearing their masks with sharp teeth and tusks and scaring each other, but after a while they begin believing that they really are ferocious animals.
Leo Lionni’s winsome mice cavort across big double-page spreads of oil paintings and tell a story about what is real and what is not that is just right for preschoolers.
The late Caldecott Honor artist Leo Lionni is well loved for his sweet, colorful paintings and thoughtful stories that always illuminate a sliver of human nature: the story of Frederick, the field mouse whose storytelling helps his family through winter; the little fish Swimmy who outsmarts a bully; the story of a minnow and a tadpole who form an unlikely alliance. The Greentail Mouse, originally published in 1973 and out of print for many years, is one of Lionnis quirkier fables about a city mouse who visits a community of country mice and regales them with colorful tales of Mardi Gras, the one festive day in the city that is not "sad and dangerous." The mice become very excited, and decide to put on their own Fat Tuesday party, collecting natural materials like straw and lichen to create masks of ferocious animals with "glittering teeth and fierce eyes." Most wear wigs and hats, and the Greentail Mouse of the title is so named because she paints her tail green. As the celebration gains momentum, the mice forget themselves, and really begin to believe they are ferocious animals: "Everyone was afraid of everyone else, and as the days went by, the once peaceful community became a place full of hate and suspicion." Fortunately, a maskless mouse reminds them that they are in fact harmless, peaceful mice and restores order and happiness to the group. Rich, colorful, two-page spreads of Frederick-style mice distinguish Lionnis vivid walk on the wild side. (Ages 4 to 8) --Karin Snelson
author spotlight "From time to time, from the endless flow of our mental imagery, there emerges unexpectedly something that, vague though it may be, seems to carry the promise of a form, a meaning, and, more important, an irresistible poetic charge."--Leo Lionni
Leo Lionni wrote and illustrated more than 40 highly acclaimed children's books. He received the 1984 American Institute of Graphic Arts Gold Medal and was a four-time Caldecott Honor Winner--for Inch by Inch, Frederick, Swimmy, and Alexander and the Wind-Up Mouse. Leo Lionni died in October of 1999 at his home in Tuscany, Italy, at the age of 89.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
"Of all the questions I have been asked as an author of children's books, the most frequent one, without doubt, has been 'How do you get your ideas?' Most people seem to think that getting an idea is both mysterious and simple. Mysterious, because inspiration must come from a particular state of grace with which only the most gifted souls are blessed. Simple, because ideas are expected to drop into one's mind in words and pictures, ready to be transcribed and copied in the form of a book, complete with endpapers and cover. The word get expresses these expectations well. Yet nothing could be further from the truth.
"It is true that, from time to time, from the endless flow of our mental imagery, there emerges unexpectedly something that, vague though it may be, seems to carry the promise of a form, a meaning, and, more important, an irresistible poetic charge. The sense of instant recognition with which we pull this image into the full light of our consciousness is the initial impulse of all creative acts. But, though it is important, it produces no more than the germ of an idea. Each book, at the birth of its creative history, has such a moment. Some are fortunate enough to have, from the outset, a strongly identified hero, one with an inescapable destiny. Others are blessed with a promising beginning, or perhaps with the vision of an ending (which means working backwards to a surprise opening). Others stem from a clearly articulated conflict situation. Sometimes, I must admit, the motivations of a book may be found in a sudden, unreasonable urge to draw a certain kind of crocodile. And it may even happen that in the dark of our minds there appears, out of nowhere, a constellation of words that has the bright, arrogant solidity of a title. Only last night I was jolted out of a near-slumber by the words the mouse that didn't exist. I am sure that, temporarily tucked away in my memory, they will eventually become the title of a story for which as yet I have no idea.
"To shape and sharpen the logic of a story, to tighten the flow of events, ultimately to define the idea in its totality, is much like a game of chess. In the light of overall strategy, each move is the result of doubts, proposals, and rejections, which inevitably bring to mind the successes or failures of previous experiences.
"Inspirational raptures may happen, but most books are shaped through hard, disciplined work. Creative work, to be sure, because its ingredients come from the sphere of the imaginary. But the manipulation of these ingredients requires much more than mere inclination or talent. It is an intricate process in which the idea slowly takes form, by trial and error, through detours and side roads, which, were it not for the guidance of professional rigor, would lead the author into an inextricable labyrinth of alternatives.
"And so, to the question 'How do you get your ideas?' I am tempted to answer, unromantic though it may sound, 'Hard work.' "
Leo Lionni has gained international renown for his paintings, graphic designs, illustrations, and sculpture, as well as for his books for children. He was born in Holland in 1910 of Dutch parents, and although his education did not include formal art courses (in fact, he has a doctorate in economics from the University of Genoa), he spent much of his free time as a child in Amsterdam's museums, teaching himself to draw.
Lionni's business training gradually receded into the background as his interest in art and design grew. Having settled in Milan soon after his marriage in 1931, he started off by writing about European architecture for a local magazine. It was there that he met the contacts who were to give him a start as a professional graphic designer. When he moved to America in 1939, Lionni was hired by a Philadelphia advertising agency as art director. Later he became design director for the Olivetti Corporation of America, and then art director for Fortune magazine. At the same time, his reputation as an artist flourished as he began to exhibit his paintings and drawings in galleries from New York to Japan.
Lionni launched his career as an author/illustrator of books for children in 1959. Originally developed from a story he had improvised for his grandchildren during a dull train ride, Little Blue and LittleYellow was the first of what is now a long list of children's picture books, including four Caldecott Honor Books.
This review is from: The Greentail Mouse (Hardcover)
I disagree with the first review...it is precisely the ambiguity of this tale that makes it so delightful and so easy to turn to again and again as we try to puzzle it out. I'm not sure we're meant to "know" everything, or would want to. The mystery, and ambiguity, of lived experience is the most "real" thing of all--and children get that. My students and I still haven't figured out The Greentail Mouse and we still enjoy trying.
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This review is from: The Greentail Mouse (Hardcover)
This book seems a little dark for a children's book. The mice prepare for there first Mardi Gras and make masks that look like monsters and forget they are mice and become the monsters.
It seems the author is really either voicing his opinion of Mardi Gras or just thought of being careful not to lose yourself in something bad or I suppose both those things.
Why it is called the Greentail Mouse is because one of the mice tail gets paint on it and it never can remove the paint. A reminder that even if they forget that they were monsters once and to not to return to that way of being.
I think it is a good message in general I don't know if it has to be applied to Mardi Gras as I have never participated in the event but I can see how it fits
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In a take on the town mouse and the country mouse, Leonni tells the tale of happy forest mice who try to recreate a Mardi Gras celebration of their own, after hearing about it from a city mouse. This fable is, as always beautifully illustrated; although this time, there are no torn-paper mice, but, as my seven-year-old noticed, "really painted" pictures. However, we never find out why the mouse`s tail stays green -- as a reminder, perhaps of the dangers of trying to be what you are not? A little too ambiguous, maybe. Not as captivating as so many of his other stories. Save your money and borrow this from the library.
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