Customer Reviews

Tsunami!

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4 star:		(5)
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Noted children's author, Kajikawa, has created a small masterpiece in this awe-inspiring tale of an old man who saves his village from an impending tsunami by sacrificing the rice crop that made him wealthy. The illustrations by Ed Young are breathtaking, and the spare prose is both page-turning and yet tuned perfectly to a child's ear. A stunning book.

I wasn't getting a lot from the pictures, but the text kept me engaged throughout. One thing that the pictures did do was capture the scale of a tsunami. There's a simplicity to the book that I appreciated.

Ojiisan was a simple man living in Japan long, long ago. His name meant "grandfather." One day when his family was preparing to go to a festival, he refused to go. He sensed something was very wrong so he and his grandson, Tada stayed behind. As he watched the festival below, he felt the earth rumble beneath the soles of his feet. An earthquake was stirring the earth beneath his feet. No one was alarmed, but somehow "Ojiisan, who had felt hundreds of earthquakes in his time, thought this shock strange."

The sea "darkened suddenly and was moving against the wind." It was a "Tsunami-the monster wave." Ojiisan knew that something had to be done to rescue the villagers down below. They were running to the sea to watch instead of running away from it to save themselves. He ran to his own precious rice fields and sadly set them on fire. Would the four hundred souls down below rush to his aid? If they rushed to save his fields, perhaps they would unknowingly save their own lives!

This is a beautifully told Japanese legend that will mesmerize the adult reader and widen the eyes of the young. I enjoyed the tale and the combination of gouache, pastel painting and collage artwork was unusual and stunning. This is a charming story that illustrates the fact that we, as human beings, are all in the same boat and need to help one another.

Those first moments of approaching the ocean after not having been swimming in it for a couple of years had me feeling a momentary tinge of shyness toward it. There is that sense of enormity and foreverness and hidden secrets. But then it reached out and splashed my ankles and knees and -- proceeding forward -- I was suddenly and thoroughly immersed in it, swimming beyond the breakers, and it was my old friend, holding me aloft with its buoyant, salty density. All of those feelings and memories embedded so deeply in me came pouring out: of being a little kid all scratchy with sand in the backseat of an ancient station wagon heading home with New York Top Forty on the radio, still feeling, for hours to come and into that night's sleep, the never-ending sway and tug of the sea bouncing me around and around despite its having -- for the moment -- receded out of sight and scent to be replaced by the moist and verdant midsummer's evening of fireflies and hide-and-seek and a warm shower and soft pajamas.

A week ago I was one with the ocean, thousands of miles from where I sit this morning. I left my beloved soulmate back there, and wish in all of my being that I was there right now.

I consider it one of the most fortunate circumstances of birth that I was born near the sea and, throughout childhood, accumulated so many layers of sweet memories of being in it, memories that cause me to find myself back at the shores of eastern Long Island again and again just as surely as if I were a bird born with that instinctual knowledge of where one is forever compelled to return to.

Long before reading Pearl Buck's THE BIG WAVE for a junior high English class, I'd had powerful, reoccurring dreams of the sea pulling way out, revealing the naked ocean floor, and then crashing furiously back in to shore. Reading THE BIG WAVE merely accentuated those dreams.

To look at the stunning cover of TSUNAMI!, the powerful image of a debris-bespeckled gigantic wave about to crash down, is to understand why this book so thoroughly and unceasingly calls to me after having spent recent days and all those long-ago days in and along the ocean. I've now been sitting here staring at Ed Young's amazing cover art for a ridiculous number of minutes.


TSUNAMI! is adapted from a 1897 story "A Living God" by Lafcadio Hearn. It is the tale of Ojiisan (meaning grandfather), a wise old rice farmer who lived on a mountainside near the sea, a man who lives simply despite being the oldest and wealthiest person in his village. Ojiisan has a premonition that causes him to pass up a village celebration and, sure enough, an earthquake occurs. Then the sea recedes and the villagers run in wonderment to the beach and even beyond it to watch the sea. Knowing they are in immanent danger, but being too far away to call them back, Ojiisan brings all of the villagers running up the hill by setting fire to his rice crop, purposely and selflessly destroying his life's fortune for the sake of saving his neighbors.

"Through the twilight, a dark shadow grew larger and larger, racing toward the coast. The long darkness was the returning se, as high as a cliff and as wide as the sky, heading for the village with lightning speed."

Caldecott Medalist Ed Young is at his best here; his work is a truly inspired artistic achievement rendered through utilizing combinations of gouache, pastel, and collage to vividly bring the ocean, the village, and the fire all to life.

TSUNAMI! is powerful and notable in its lesson of what one person can do to change the world and in its images which so thoroughly and successfully capture the elemental forces of our world.

In her latest book, Tsunami, Kajikawa tells a timeless tale of human kindness and generosity with authentic style and voice. Perfect for both multicultural and character education, stunning artwork accompanies rich prose that is sure to delight readers of all ages.

This is a tale with a lot of drama. The story is gripping from the beginning to the end...not something for "wee ones", but for older kids, I think this will hold their attention and help them understand about being a good neighbor and rising to the occasion in an emergency. I could see a teacher reading this to a classroom and having a discussion about making a sacrifice to your community.

Kajikawa tells the tale in a simple way - hard to do with a rather complex theme - yet still manages to imbue the story with layers of emotion and passion. It reminded me of a book I had when I was a child with Asian folktales with "adult themes". (I recall a tale where a dragon tries to get a monkey's heart for his dragon wife, trying to kill the monkey to get the heart -heavy stuff for a child to read, but it had a point to make and I remembered it). These folktales made a strong impression on me in a way that the more light-hearted storybooks did.

The illustrations by Ed Young are intense. I was very impressed with how he used his materials to create "fire" and "water"...Just paper collage! Remarkable.

The purpose of a picture book? Think carefully now. The answer's not going to jump up and bite you on the bum. Does it exist primarily to instill a love of literature? A love of art? To teach children to read? Is it an artistic form in and of itself, separate entirely from its practical purposes? Is it made to please adults with children as a secondhand afterthought, or does it please all persons regardless of age? Such questions do not always come up after reading one of these 32-odd page creations. To be perfectly honest, I am rarely challenged when a read a Seuss, a Willems, or a Scarry (sorry, y'all). And then I'll pick up something that doesn't follow conventional rules or patterns. Maurice Sendak will have such an effect on my brain. So too, but for entirely different reasons, will Ed Young. No one questions his talent, but not everyone likes his style, in spite of the fact that that very style changes from book to book. He might be downright conventional in My Mei Mei then break out the crazy juice for Wabi Sabi. His tales can be as straightforward as Caldecott winner Lon Po Po or as downright brain twistingly loopy as Beyond the Great Mountains. With Young you never know what you're going to get next. And next, in this particular case, is Tsunami! by Kimiko Kajikawa. A straightforward story with pictures that are anything but.

When the rice harvest festival is nigh the villagers all gather on the beach at the foot of a mountain to celebrate. Everyone, that is, except for Ojisan and his grandson. The wealthiest man in the village, Ojisan lives simply and humbly on the top of the mountain with his beautiful fields of rice. On the day of the festival, however, something doesn't feel right to him. An earthquake occurs, but though he's felt many before this one seems different. And when he looks at the sea he realizes to his horror that the sea is running away from the land. A tsunami is coming, and all those little people down below will be killed if he doesn't do something. So by setting fire to his precious rice fields, Ojisan lures the villagers up the mountain just in time to escape the vicious, inhuman disaster that is about to occur.

Strange but true fact: After a devastating tsunami wrecks havoc somewhere in the world I will often find several parents asking me for picture books about tsunamis for their children. I'm not entirely certain what impulse is at work here. Scary thing happens ipso facto I shall find a book that will make it not as scary? It doesn't really matter what the thought process is anyway since we don't really have any tsunami picture books in my collection. Oh we have hurricane books out the wazoo, sure. Hurricane books are a dime a dozen. But just try to locate a picture book about gigantic waves that crush villages and you are out of luck (ditto on tornadoes, oddly). I can only assume that until now there has been a vague sense in the publishing community that the public is not keen on huge scary natural disasters rendered equally huge and scary on the picture book page. Something must have convinced Philomel that the market was out there. I just hope the kids who live in coastal areas are clear on what they're getting themselves into when they read this.

Because to be perfectly frank, Ed Young's art isn't pulling any punches with this puppy. The cover alone should be enough to convince you of that. Let's just admire that cover image for a second, shall we? The mixed media really suits it. Mixed media's such a weird form of art. It all boils down to some artist ripping apart some material and then sticking it onto a flat surface so that it looks like something else entirely. The difficulty in doing this is in making the image look like a three dimensional scene, entirely apart from the three dimensional aspects of the original material itself. No small feat. But for a book about a tsunami, the pairing of mixed media and gigantic destructive waves is ingenious. Little ripped pieces of paper become inanimate victims of a natural disaster. The dwarfing affect is ideal, as is the fact that the rips, snares, and tears all add to the violence of the ocean's wave. On the cover the crest of the tsunami is constructed out of what looks like the thinnest overlaying of white tissue fibers. You can practically feel the suck of the tide. Brilliant.

Inside the book it's a whole other ballgame. Some images are self-explanatory and easy to understand. When Ojisan sets fire to his rice fields there is no misunderstanding as to what he is doing (to say nothing of the look of confused anguish on his grandson's face). Other pictures take more work. Ojisan looking down the mountain at the celebration below shows the villagers as no larger than the tiniest squares of confetti. It takes a minute to decipher but it's still understandable. Far more difficult is the tsunami's effect itself. When the sea returns "to its ancient bed" we've a confusing shot of water, sky, mountain, and villagers. It takes some time to realize which end is up. That's the difficulty with this book. Young doesn't feel hampered in by up or down or left or right. Images are meant to be viewed on their side, looking down a path, or viewed from below up up up. Impatient parents will twist and turn this book, deciding in the end that it isn't worth their time. Smart ones will turn it into a game with their kids, asking them to interpret the more difficult images on their own. I suspect that the adult who goes with the latter plan might learn a little something about the images each time this happens. It's worth a shot anyway.

It's a little unfair that I've spent this much time talking about the art in this book and so little time discussing the writing. That's the price any author pays when they're paired with a Caldecott medalist, I guess. Now I've heard a tale or two about the creation of this book, and whether or not this story is true is probably up for question. The way I hear it, Kajikawa submitting this story years ago to Penguin. And Young considered it for quite some time, but couldn't quite figure out how to illustrate it. Then a real tsunami, a big tsunami, hit another part of the world and the floodgates (so to speak) opened. He had his style. But it's Kajikawa's words that make this as accessible a story as it is. In fact, I found it a real pity that the design of the book had relegated her words to a black bar at the bottom of the page. This tale is precise and to the point. It plays up the natural tension, from Ojisan's foreshadowing "Something does not feel right" to his frantic attempts to lure the villagers away from their own imminent demise. And the fact that it has something to say about sacrifice and wealth? Doesn't hurt matters any.

Still deciding whether or not to read or purchase it? Take a look at the only wordless two-page spread in the book. After all the villagers have hurried up the mountain to put out the flaming fields they ask Ojisan why they are there. In answer he merely turns to the sea and says, "Kita!" The next two-page spread is absolutely terrifying. A wave, pure black until its crest, towers above the land. The purple sky above is almost entirely hidden in the midst of the oncoming spray and sea. It is the end of the world as we know it. Nature at its darkest. And depending on your child it will inspire both their dreams and their nightmares. You need to figure out exactly how much of either you feel comfortable informing. Of course, it's certainly not the most kid-friendly (heck, user-friendly) of Young's titles. Too artistic? Maybe a little. But it also happens to be a great story and a visual entrancer. If it's man versus nature you seek, look no further than Tsunami! Like nothing else out there I can name.

I loved the story about how Ojiisan sacraficed his own wealth to save 400 people in his village from the ravage of a tsunami. The story is short, but well written, with the words carefully and purposefully chosen. The illustrations are works of art. For some reason, my 6 year old is fascinated by pictures of storms and the powers of the elements. It helps that the story states that a tsunami is not a common occurrence, so my kid is not that frightened of it.

When my three year old enjoys a book she asks for it multiple times in a day, as was the case recently with "Tsunami". While she doesn't understand how an earthquake works or what happens in an actual tsunami, she understands how Ojiisan saves the villagers and his need to signal them using fire. I'm sure she'll enjoy this book for many years to come.

So many books for children include imagery and talk of monsters, scary things in the dark, and other subjects that I avoid as bedtime stories. Kids have active imaginations, and it's good to engage them in make-believe, but there is a need for realism and truthful stories about actual challenges, both positive and negative. I can imagine using this book as a teaching tool the next time there is a tsunami that causes destruction somewhere in the world.

Tsunami is a wonderful and exciting story, told so well by the author. This tale brings us excitement, suspense, confusion, and finally a satisfying ending. Children who are lucky enough to hear this amazing story can learn much about both the ferociousness of nature and the kind hearts of mankind. The mixed media art adds to the drama of nature's violence and the excitement of the people. Not to be missed by the kids you love