The Caldecott Committee Throws a Curve

The American Library Association (ALA) stages a huge event every winter when it names the winners of its coveted John Newbery and Randolph Caldecott awards. “Newbery & Caldecott,” awarded for text and illustration respectively, were the only awards for decades. But as the interests of the ALA extended beyond just books (i.e., became more political), more categories were added to honor contributions to African-American literature, YA literature, Hispanic literature, LGBT literature, and doubtless we will see more. Still, the Big Two command the most attention even now, and (with the exception of the YA winners, which are almost always edgy) they are the most likely to stir up controversy. This year’s Newberys were fairly straightforward, as we reported last month. The Caldecotts offered a couple of surprises, though: one, the number of honor books totaled six, which is unprecedented (honor books can number as few as two, though some committees have named five). Second, even though Caldecott recognition is almost always limited to traditional picture books (one exception being The Invention of Hugo Cabret, which is actually a heavily illustrated middle-grade novel), included among this year’s honor books is a graphic novel marketed to teens. Hmm…

This One Summer, by a team of cousins (Jillian and Mariko Tomaki), follows 13-year-old Rose Wallace as she begins her customary family vacation at Awago Beach. There waits her customary summer friend, Windy, who’s a year younger and already boy-crazy. Rose is also susceptible to this type of craziness, but the only likely target of the girls’ affections is Duncan, a.k.a. Dunc, who clerks at the one convenience store. He has a girlfriend already so rather than crush on him, Rose and Windy become voyeurs to the mysterious world of romance. Soon it appears the girlfriend has a problem—a typical problem for teen girls starved for love, and Dunc does not want it to become his problem. Meanwhile, Rose’s parents are distracted with their own relationship issues, and in the atmosphere of benign neglect the girls go on a binge-watch of classic horror movies that underscores the delicious dread looming over the horizon of their adolescence.

This One Summer includes some genuinely poignant moments in its liberal, anything-goes moral universe, and it makes some life-affirming points. It also ends on a hopeful note after hard truths have been faced and reconciliations made. The three-color artwork is ingenious and often striking, but no more so than many graphic novels I’ve seen. The language, as seems prevalent in many graphic novels, is foul—plenty of f-bombs, lots of profanity. Windy’s mom seems to be a lesbian, and Dunc is a lowlife with even lower-life friends. As should be clear by now, it’s definitely not for kids at the picture-book level, and that’s what the award is supposed to be about: given, and I quote, “to the artist of the most distinguished American picture book for children.” The committee attracted some inevitable criticism for its choice (Newberys have been targets for controversy for some time, but Caldecotts have so far been immune).   Their defense is that “child,” for the purposes of the Newbery, Caldecott, and Sibert (nonfiction) awards, is defined as up to age 14.  But if that’s the case, why give This One Summer an award for YA excellence also, as the Prinz committee did?  It crosses lines that no Newbery title ever did.

May I propose that the next category the ALA needs to distinguish is for excellence in graphic novels.  It might clear up a little confusion.  Maybe