Monster, the fictional story of a sixteen-year-old boy (Steve Harmon) standing trial for murder, is a combination of different genres and forms and is anything but typical. Part memoir, part movie script this is novel for older children and young adults that works on many different levels, including as an unconventional coming of age story, a study in film making, and an introduction to the American judicial system. Although the story alternates between Harmon’s journal entries and his movie script version of the events that take place, any awkwardness caused by differences in format or even setting and time shifts are smoothed out by theme similarities. The downside to this is that at moments messages may come off as heavy-handed. In one instance when Harmon first faces the jury, there is a cut to Harmon’s high school film workshop.

The class is critiquing the end of a film and the film club mentor Mr. Sawicki refers to potential film viewers as “a kind of jury for [a] film.” He states, “If you make your film predictable, they’ll make up their minds about it long before it’s over.” While Mr. Sawicki’s analogy works well to tie the themes together, the message is rather obvious as one way the jury might view Harmon during his trial. And yet the brilliance of this analogy is how it works on an entirely different level as foreshadowing for the book itself. We, the readers of Monster or Harmon’s screenplay, are also a jury of sorts; and if his combination of memoir/screenplay is too predictable, we may also come to conclusions about his guilt or innocence long before completing his story.

Interestingly, despite being every bit Harmon’s story, one told from his experiences, the changes in “written” points of view could fool the reader. The screenplay is seemingly transcribed word for word; and yet the camera angles and shots are all created and controlled by Harmon. When Harmon writes about his inner thoughts in diary format, the effect is visceral. The reader is let into Harmon’s mind and emotions. In contrast, the screenplay portions of the novel represent Harmon’s attempt to be objective and to make sense of the crazy world in which he has been thrown.

Harmon steps out of himself and for instance imagines how it would feel to be a juror looking at a kid like him. The reader may unconsciously choose to read the screenplay sections as fact, but we must remember that Harmon is ultimately the story creator and has control over its many elements, from specific memories to word choice. Also, Harmon is limited to his immediate environment: in this case the detention center, the courtroom and places in his memories. To keep faithful to the story, Harmon cannot to any great extent describe what people are saying or doing outside of these places. Harmon may pick up on the outside world from his window, from chitchat among the guards and from asking his lawyer about her weekend; but Harmon’s confinement prevents him from writing a story with a completely omniscient perspective. Even Harmon admits that he has a hard time thinking about anything but his own fate. He has little knowledge of what his parents, the jurors, and his lawyer are all doing when away from the trial. In the end the reader may not receive a well-rounded perspective on the events that occur, but they witness a rather personal, engaging, and insightful account.

The visual style of the book also makes the story easy to follow and adds a measure of authenticity to the telling. Harmon’s journal entries are printed in a larger handwritten font, while his screenplay is laid out in the appropriate format and printed in a courier type font. The sporadic use of photographs and courtroom illustrations by Christopher Myers add an element of realism to the story.

Overall, Monster is a compelling story that represents a teen’s self-study and examination, something that to a great extent other young adults can relate to.

Initially published in Egypt, The Illustrator’s Notebook is an interesting combination of picture book, memoir and scrapbook that documents the thoughts and illustrations of Egyptian artist Mohieddin Ellabbad. Perhaps one of the most distinguishable design features of this book is that it opens (like the original version) from right to left. The original Arabic text remains incorporated into the artwork, while the English translations are placed in the margins. Each page has it’s own heading and theme, and the book as a whole is easy to follow, despite the collage-like nature of the art. The fact that the reader has to flip pages from right to left (also lending them to read the right pages before the left pages, although each page is rather independent of the other) and is visually exposed to Arabic writing provides a rather tangible experience into Arabic culture.

In addition to the book’s design, its topics strike a nice balance between coming from a uniquely Egyptian point of view and being universal in nature. Young readers will therefore relate to certain incidents or characters, but still learn things they didn’t know about Arabic culture. A nice exemplification of this is the page entitled “Left and Right,” where Mohieddin depicts an Arabic hero juxtaposed against a flying Superman. Superman is shown flying from left to right while the Arabic hero rides from right to left. Mohieddin notes that since people of Arab-speaking countries read and write from right to left, they also tend to draw in the same direction.

Also included in the book are replications of photographs and mementos. With all of these pages, whether they include illustrations, photographs or other souvenirs, Mohieddin includes reflective comments and raises interesting questions about the nature of art and the world. At one point he asks readers to spot the difference between two illustrations depicting same subject but each completed under differing emotional states. On another page, Mohieddin asks readers to take a second look at the world around them. He asks, “…have you ever looked at the beautiful landscape that is drawn right in the palm of your hand?” This book can thus be an effective way to visually introduce children to Arabic culture and to encourage children to look at the world a bit differently.

This part West Indian, part African American picture book version of Rumpelstiltskin is a feast for the eyes with its horizontal paintings in rich, deep colors highlighted by bronze gold. In this retelling of the tale, the little trickster is called Lit’mahn and rather than asking for the queen’s first-born child, he threatens to turn her into his kind if she fails to guess his name. The book has a wide trim size and the text is placed to the left of each painting. A spread effect is produced, however, as each image has a gold border that becomes thicker on the left side and extends across the gutter. The first letter of text on each page is enlarged and placed in a gold box that also has a wider left margin. This layout works to unify text and image; and the gold paint works well to support a story about a woman spinning gold.

The story itself is rather detailed and rhythmic. At first glance there seem to be occasional grammatical errors. However, this is clarified at the end of the book to be a stylistic choice. Hamilton has in fact translated a “difficult, so-called black dialect” into a “far simpler colloquial style,” which she claims to be easier to read out loud and to more accurately reflect a “lilting West Indian speech pattern.” Because of the detailed and colloquial West Indian and African American language pattern of this book, it is probably most effective with an adult as a mediator for younger children.

Certainly, both children and adults will appreciate the humorous details, whether they are in the text or the images. For instance, when the queen is down to her final three chances to guess Lit’mahn’s name, she says, “Your name is Squashimup!” and then “Your name must be…no…must be Teardowndoor!” Clearly she is very frustrated. The illustrations are also expressive, especially the characters’ faces. The look of anger on the queen’s face as she is locked up for the third time is rather humorous, because the character achknowledges the absurdity of the situation. With its panoramic format, detailed paintings and rhythmic language, this book is ideal to use for children’s storytimes.

In Little Bear, You’re a Star!, author and illustrator Jean Marzollo retells the Greek myth of Callisto and Arcas in a simplified manner for younger children to grasp. This glossy paged picture book, which has no white space from end page to end page, is filled with watercolor and Chinese Brush illustrations in mainly blues, greens, yellows and browns. Illustrations have been scanned and finished in Adobe Photoshop and text has been set in Hadriano Bold and Kid Print. The resulting images are boldly colored with strong, yet loose outlines. These outlines vary in line thickness and complement the curvature of the employed fonts.

The story itself is well-paced and explained by the introduction at the beginning, the Parent/Teacher guide at the end, and a band of illustrated birds at the bottom every page who act as a Greek chorus of sorts by elaborating upon the story at hand. At times these birds define words such as “ancient,” “arktos” and “Ursa.” Other times they sympathize with characters in the story. For instance in one page spread a bird proclaims, “If my mother turned into a bear, I would cry, too!” Vocabulary is simple enough for children to follow and perhaps to read on their own; and onomonapeas such “Buzz! Buzz!” from the bees and “G-r-r” from the bear, in addition to written prompts for identification of constellations and singing (“You can sing this to the tune of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”) encourage active participation. In the beginning, Marzollo explains to caregivers that her version of this story is much less complicated than the original myth and advises parents and teachers to encourage young children to in the future seek out these more sophisticated versions. With its colorful pictures and humorous characterization (especially with the “Greek chorus”), Little Bear, You’re a Star! can be visually stimulating for very young children. At the same time, its simple vocabulary, direct sentence structure, and clarity in defining words and concepts also make this book ideal for the early reader.

Many young children who have (or had) a favorite “blanky,” as well as their exasperated parents will relate to Owen, a story about a mouse and how he learned to “part” with is beloved blanket named Fuzzy. Henkes language is simple, yet poetic, especially with his use of grammatical repetition. An example of this occurs as follows: ”’No Blanket Fairy,’ said Owen in the morning. ‘No Kidding,’ said Owen’s mother. ‘No wonder,’ said Owen’s father.” Along with the rhythmic pacing of language are Henkes’ colorful watercolor and ink images, at times depicted in a sequential style and expressive to the point of holding up on their own without the presence of words. When Owen’s mother snips at Fuzzy, the wide-eyed looks of both Owen and his father reveal the fear they have regarding the blanket’s fate.

Owen’s combination of concise yet rhythmic language with whimsical, expressive art makes for a book that children may enjoy on two different levels. For those with limited reading skills the art offers a medium for visual literacy, while the repetition of words and sounds reiterates vocabulary. For more advanced readers, the language may aid in the learning of literary devices. Most importantly this story deals with the very important issue of separation anxiety that many children experience. I would recommend this Caldecott Honor book to very young as well as older children, because it works so well in the different levels previously mentioned.

With Leonardo the Terrible Monster, Mo Willems combines the use of page color with strategically placed text and illustration to create meaning. The reader follows Leonardo, a small monster with a huge head, in his quest to become a better monster. This means he must develop the ability to scare someone. Anyone. The use of soft, muted colors with hand-serif font gives the story an antiquated tone; and along with the sketchy lines of Willems’ illustrations, softens the tone of the story despite it being about a monster.

Pages themselves are a variety of muted shades (mauve, blue-gray, taupe, etc) and serve a number of different functions. Often they unify a page spread. When Leonardo sneaks up on a boy (Sam), the reader recognizes that the characters are part of the same composition, despite the fact that they are located on opposite sides of the gutter. Sometimes changes in page color support changes in mood. For instance, when Leonardo goes from being thoughtful to excited, the page color changes from blue-gray to mauve. Changes in font color also emphasize certain words and phrases, such as “terrible monster” and “wonderful friend.”

Contrast in size and placement are also important. In comparison to Leonardo, the other monsters spatially take up a larger portion of the page, and sometimes even extend off of a two page spread. This conveys to the reader how unlike a typical scary monster Leonardo is. When Leonardo has to make a big decision, his face spans an entire two-page spread to support the substantial nature of his thoughts. Overall, this picture book is well-crafted and the use of contrast and strategic placement of both visual and textual elements effectively engages readership both young and old.

Superhero ABC is less of a story with a plot and more of a “gallery” of superheroes, each representing a letter of the alphabet. These superheroes are not the conventional Superman, however, and what this picture book lacks in plot it certainly makes up for in its humorous characters and energetic mood. The acrylic and ink artwork is bold, bright and rather flat, giving the impression of a beginners’ comic book. Pieces of text are integrated into art that spans entire pages, leaving virtually no white space. Additionally, the blue-grey colored end pages featuring the entire superhero cast with their letters and enclosed in comic book panels provide a nice contrast to the more colorful inner pages. These end pages also work to reiterate the alphabet and to introduce the readers to the characters. The overall effect is one where the reader is drawn into the visceral world of these personalities.

The structure of the book is rather consistent, which works well to aid younger children in understanding the alphabet. Each page or spread features a particular letter (always bolded) in both its capitalized and lowercase formats, and which can be found in the character’s name, an alliterative statement describing the character, and random comments and notes about the character. For instance, Laughing Lass represents the letter “L” and on her page we learn that she “laughs loudly at lawbreakers,” “likes lollipops,” and is “a little looney.” I highly recommend this book for young children to learn the alphabet, as its humor and bold visuals can be motivating and entertaining and its repetition of letters an effective learning technique.

This latest in motion-capture animation technology (popularized by “The Polar Express”) is visually impressive and can be compared to a roller coaster ride or perhaps a combination roller coaster/haunted mansion ride in thrills. When the movie opens, we follow a single falling leaf as it weaves its way through an idyllic suburb and follows a young girl riding her tricycle and merrily singing…until she lands on the lawn of a particular house that is. Here we are introduced to “Monster House” owner and hermit Nebbercracker (Steve Buscemi), known for terrorizing children and confiscating their toys when they land on his lawn. Things go no differently for this girl as the old man destroys and takes her tricycle, sending her running away in tears. Across the street, 12-year-old DJ (Mitchel Musso) observes through his telescope and records Nebbercracker’s latest conquest in a log. When Nebbercracker’s tantrums finally result in a heart attack, the house itself continues his job, seemingly embodying his spirit as it engulfs objects that land on its lawn and swallows people that threaten it. Only DJ, his buddy Chowder (Sam Lerner) and their new ally Jenny (Spencer Locke) are privy to the house’s gruesome behavior and are determined to infiltrate, discover its secrets and ultimately end its rampage.

The movie sets the viewer up with the capabilities and characteristics of the house, and as the house’s mysteries are revealed, becomes more about delivering moments of suspense, thrills and action. When the children finally enter and “battle” the house, there are intense moments; but these only warranted momentary hand-squeezing from the eight year-old and didn’t even faze the twelve year-old who I had brought with me. The most intense moment involves DJ coming face to face with a mummified corpse. The movie is fast paced though the action can at times seem unrelenting. Overall, “Monster House” is a well-constructed movie that may be too intense for very young children and just edgy and visually stunning enough for adults. I highly recommend watching it in 3D and think that it would make a great Halloween alternative to attending a live haunted house (which may be higher on the cheese than thrill factor).

The Illusionist centers around late 18th century/early 19th century Vienna, where magician Eisenhem (Edward Norton) and Chief Inspector Uhl (Paul Giamatti) come face to face when Crown Prince Leopold (Rufus Sewell) orders Uhl to expose Eisenhem as a fraud. The stakes get higher when Eisenhem and the Prince’s love interest Sophie von Teschen (Jessica Biel) remember their past childhood friendship and a love affair ensues. As Eisenhem’s illusions become increasingly grand, verging on the supernatural, Uhl is pressured to increase his level of investigation. The movie builds at a steady pace to the crecendo of Eisenhem’s greatest illusion yet.

A quiet film, yet constantly filled with music, dialogue, mystery and intrigue. Serious and yet with a touch of sarcasm. The cast is solid, anchored by strong performances from both Norton and Giamatti. The story is told in flashback from Uhl, who you should hate but really can’t, especially with Giamatti’s portrayal of Uhl as a character sympathetic to victims of the Prince’s pride but sadly resigned to the only means by which he can improve his lot. And Eisenhem performs feats so amazing that despite being onscreen, you too are in awe. Particularly enjoyable however are the speeches and talk surrounding Eisenhem’s illusions, as he relates them to time, life and death. Even as Eisenhem’s illusions become less about what he says and more about raw emotion and concentration, Norton’s intensity draws us in and holds us in rapt attention. There are a number of inconsistencies in the plot, but overall this film is well-constructed, well-acted and well-shot, a solid start for first time writer/director Neil Burger that leaves one walking out of the theater satisfied.

Firstly, for those who are concerned about spoilers: M. Night Shyamalan’s children’s book “Lady in the Water,” supposedly has only passing similarities to the upcoming movie. Both feature a a water nymph that lives in a swimming pool, and that is the extent of what they have in common. I read this story together with a twelve and an eight year-old and several things struck me: firstly the poetic language, secondly the pretty illustrations, and thirdly how the vagueness of the plot and the unconventional layout of the illustrations don’t work. Granted, this story is labeled “A Bedtime Story,” and it reads just like that: a train of thought tale told off the top of one’s head at a child’s prompting. This may work well orally, but not quite as well on paper. There are too many unanswered questions, characters with complicated names that are introduced too quickly, and rules that don’t make sense. Also blank spreads with only words and isolated flourishes are regularly dispersed between the illustrations. I realize this is a stylistic choice, but with picture books, children lose interest quickly. With the poetic words and the beautiful illustrations, “Lady in the Water” is a book that seemingly should work; if only the plot of the story were stronger and the format of the book was different.