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Welcome to “5 Questions,” where the number 5 is conceptual rather than literal. Today we feature one of the most acclaimed graphic novelists working in children’s books today, Matt Phelan.

Yo, Matt, I’m over here. Yeah, no, look this way. It’s just weird with you staring off into the distance like that. I’m literally right here. Fine, whatever, let’s just get through this. Take us back to the period before the idea came for this book. Is there a “between books” stage for you, when you are not exactly sure what’s next? Is that stressful? Are you walking around with your antenna up, hoping for lightning to strike? Or do you keep a spare file of “BRILLIANT IDEAS” by your bedside for just such occasions?

My mind tends to wander quite a bit, so I often have new ideas percolating when I should be focused on the book at hand. I have notes for Snow White going back ten years when I was pitching Storm in the Barn. I have a few ideas on low simmer now that I hope to get to eventually.

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That’s how I feel about painting my living room and front hallway (and upstairs bathroom, and guest bedroom, and). It’s all on low simmer. But for you that simmer reached a boiling point. Was there a specific moment, or an image, that came to you? Why that particular period in New York City?

I was thinking about apple peddlers in the Great Depression (as one does) . . .

Naturally.

. . . and my brain connected that with the stepmother in “Snow White.” I sketched an image of a busy street, people racing by, with a single young woman stopped in her tracks before an old hag holding out an apple. I liked that idea so much that I began to think of more parallels for elements in the tale if they were set in the early 1930s.

Yes, that’s part of the book’s pleasure. It’s cool how you re-imagined the seven dwarfs, for example, as street urchins. In that case, you had to find a balance between making that clear allusion, but not turning those boys into clear stand-ins for Grumpy and Sneezy and Bashful, and so on.

The Seven came to me early on, inspired in part by the Dead End Kids from the movies of the 30s and 40s. But considering their situation –- orphans, runaways hiding in alleys and warehouses at night –- I realized that withholding their names would be of utmost importance to them. That was a clear contrast to the Disney film, where if you remember anything, it’s probably the names of the dwarves. I did give the boys some of the same personality traits in passing, so it would be fun for the reader to make those connections.

The Dead End Kids.

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Those translocations are so much fun. The equivalencies aren’t absolute. It’s not, oh, this kid equals Sleepy. But, well, he does look a little tired.

Bringing the elements of the story like the seven dwarves into the time period started as an exercise, but the more I thought about it, the more I became invested in the characters and what I could maybe bring to this ancient story.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? The challenge in any retelling is to answer that essential question every artist must face, for any work of art: “So what?” In your case, I think you were able to explore a familiar story, turn it around, pull it apart, and discover new elements. Upon reflection, what did you learn about the story of “Snow White” in the process of your work? Did anything surprise you?

I was surprised about how much it started to mean to me on an emotional level. The scene where the boys reveal their names to Snow became the whole reason to do this book. For me, the book is about how there is more goodness in the world than evil, that there is beauty everywhere despite how bleak things may seem. I wrote the story three years ago, but it sadly seems very timely and relevant today.

Wait, so the apple really is Steve Bannon and . . . nevermind, I won’t go there. My heart will explode. I recently wrote my first road trip book, and one of the best things about it, as an author, was that I knew when/where the story was going to end. It’s comforting to know where you are in terms of beginning, middle, and end. You enjoyed a similar luxury in this case.

Yes. I agree. It was refreshing to have a framework to the plot from the start. But the story is so solid that it also allows for invention within that framework.

Your book benefits from our familiarity with the classic story. Everybody knows it. The known structure gave you more freedom to pick your spots, skip over the boring bits. You didn’t have to fill in every blank space. Would you agree with that?

Absolutely. I also use “chapter headings” which look more like title cards in a silent movie. That device acts as a dramatic shorthand. I could write “Late Night at the Butcher’s” and I’ve already set up not only the setting but an idea of what is going to happen there.

I agree, that was an effective device, a pause but also a jump-cut into the next scene. Hey, it had to be fun killing off the evil queen-slash-stepmother. In the movie that’s such a tense, dramatic scene. The seven dwarfs are not cuddly and cute in that surging, swelling scene; there’s murder in their hearts. The origin material was dark. That had to a challenge for you, to meet that big climatic moment head on. Were you particularly pleased on the day you figured out she’d not only get electrocuted . . . but she could fall off the building as well. Well done, sir!

My ending plays off the Disney one which I think they changed for good reason. In the original Grimm, the stepmother is invited to Snow’s wedding only to find that Snow orders her to dance to her death whilst wearing burning iron shoes (for the amusement of the wedding party). A tad sadistic for our heroine, I think. Disney used lightning, but I opted for her to go up in lights on the marquee of the Ziegfeld theater. The fall was probably a nod to King Kong now that I think of it.

How do you make these paintings? How many are there? I ask because my sense is that when I look at some graphic novels, many individual images appear rushed, unfinished. But in Snow White, I can see –- I think –- the deep care and commitment to every single image. It’s so impressive.

I use traditional media: pencil, ink, and watercolor on watercolor paper. I’ve made it a rule since my first graphic novel to never ever count how many individual panels are in the book. Each panel is a painting, maybe three to six per page, more than two hundred pages . . . it’s a lot. 

Right, it’s one of those deals where if you knew in advance, if your really calculated the amount of work, it would be hard to get started. Like taking your kids on their first hike. “Don’t worry, kids, it’s not far. It’ll be fun!”

Yeah, the “hike” is not about the number of steps it takes. It’s all part of the greater whole. I wanted each panel to have the correct mood and atmosphere, but at the same time I never wanted one particular panel to cause a reader to stop and dwell on it. I want you to keep moving. Pace is important.

And pace is mostly a function of layout, right? The decision of multi-panel spreads compared to, say, a strong single image. At what point do you make those design decisions?

The actual sizes of the panels are decided when I’m doing the first loose thumbnail drawings. You are correct about size and number of panels dictating pace. It’s like a musical score, in a way. For Snow White, I did try something a bit different, in that each page was drawn completely fresh on a blank sheet of paper. I had rough sketches to inspire me, but I did not enlarge the sketches and use them on a light-box as a guide like I’ve done before. By drawing it again fresh, I hoped to catch the energy and life of the sketches. If it was wrong, I just drew it again. Watercolor is also a great way to give your paintings energy and unpredictability. It’s hard to completely plan or fix a watercolor painting. You get what you get. That’s an exciting way to work.

I relate that to music. A belief in the positive value of raw performance — live in the studio — including the messiness of it. Rather than, say, polishing a song to perfection. Something vital gets lost in the refinement. The flawed version is somehow better.

I couldn’t agree more. I’d rather listen to something with mistakes played like the musicians’ lives depended on it than a supremely polished “perfect” performance. I’ll take the Replacements over Steely Dan any day.

I know you love music. Do you listen when you paint? Did this book have a specific soundtrack, or sonic influences?

I listen to music when painting and maybe during the writing (but only instrumental music). I do make playlists for the books. Snow White’s playlist had some leftovers from Bluffton, plus soundtracks like Bernard Herrmann’s score for The Magnificent Ambersons and Max Steiner’s great score for King Kong. I also included The Jazz Age, a recent record by the Bryan Ferry Orchestra that arranges Roxy Music songs in a hot jazz style. It’s brilliant.

Yes! I have The Jazz Age. At first I wasn’t too keen on the idea, but then I heard it. Good times. I’ll have to explore the scores by Herrmann and Steiner. Thanks for the tip, Matt Phelan!

MATT PHELAN does a great job with his website, which he stores somewhere on the interwebs. You can visit for free, but like the Hotel California, you may never leave. Matt splits his efforts between graphic novels (The Storm in the Barn, Bluffton, Around the World), picture books (Marilyn’s Monster, Xander’s Panda Party, and more), and whatever else inspires his attention. Like, oh, listening to Replacements records.

ABOUT THE “5 Questions” Interview Series: It’s a side project I’ve assigned myself, hoping to reach 52 authors & illustrators in the course of a year, always focusing on one book. 

Scheduled for future dates, in no particular order: Bruce Coville, London Ladd, Lizzy Rockwell, Jeff Mack, Matt Faulkner, and more. To find past interviews, click on the “5 Questions” link on the right sidebar, under CATEGORIES, and scroll till your heart’s content. Or use the handy SEARCH option. 

Guest so far:

1) Hudson Talbott, “From Wolf to Woof”

2) Hazel Mitchell, “Toby”

3) Susan Hood, “Ada’s Violin

4) Matthew McElligott, “Mad Scientist Academy: The Weather Disaster”

5) Jessica Olien, “The Blobfish Book”

6) Nancy Castaldo, “The Story of Seeds”

7) Aaron Becker, “Journey”

8) Matthew Cordell, “Wish”

9) Jeff Newman, “Can One Balloon Make an Elephant Fly?”

Squeeeee!  I think that's what fangirls say.  I don't really qualify as a fangirl.  Fanwomen tend to grin broadly and talk too fast.

I MET MATT PHELAN ON SUNDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Snow White: A Graphic Novel
By Matt Phelan
Candlewick Press
$19.99
ISBN: 978-0-7636-7233-1
Ages 9-12
On shelves now

I’d have said it couldn’t be done. The Snow White fairytale has been told and retold and overdone to death until there’s not much left to do but forget about it entirely. Not that every graphic novel out there has to be based on an original idea. And not that the world is fed up with fairytales now (it isn’t). But when I heard about Matt Phelan’s Snow White: A Graphic Novel I was willing to give it a chance simply because I trusted its creator and not its material. The crazy thing is that even before I picked it up, it threw me for a loop. I heard that the story was recast in 1920s/ early-1930s Depression-era New York City. For longer than I’d care to admit I just sort of sat there, wracking my brain and trying desperately to remember anything I’d ever seen that was similar. I’ve seen fairytales set during the Depression before, but never Snow White. Then I picked the book up and was struck immediately by how beautiful it was. Finally I read through it and almost every element clicked into place like the gears of a clock. I know Matt Phelan has won a Scott O’Dell Award for The Storm in the Barn and I know his books get far and wide acclaim. Forget all that. This book is his piece de resistance. A bit of fairytale telling, to lure in the kids, and a whole whopping dollop of cinematic noir, deft storytelling, and clever creation, all set against a white, wintery backdrop.

The hardened detective thinks he’s seen it all, but that was before he encountered the corpse in the window of a department store, laid out like she was sleeping. No one could account for her. No one except maybe the boy keeping watch from across the street. When the detective asks for the story he doesn’t get what he wants, but we, the readers, do. Back in time we zip to when a little girl lost her mother to illness and later her father fell desperately in love with a dancer widely proclaimed to be the “Queen of the Follies.” Sent away to a boarding school, the girl returns years later when her father has died and his will leaves all his money in a trust to Snow. Blinded by rage, the stepmother (who is not innocent in her husband’s death) calls in a favor with a former stagehand to do away with her pretty impediment, but he can’t do the deed. What follows is a gripping tale of the seven street kids that take Snow under their wing (or is it the other way around?), some stage make-up, a syringe, an apple, and an ending so sweet you could have gotten it out of a fairytale.

Let’s get back to this notion I have that the idea of setting Snow White during the Depression in New York is original. It honestly goes above and beyond the era. I could swear I’d never read or seen a version where the seven dwarfs were seven street kids. Or where the evil stepmother was a star of the Ziegfeld Follies. Snow’s run from Mr. Hunt is through Central Park through various shantytowns and he presents the stepmother with a pig’s heart procured at a butcher. Even making her glass coffin a window at Macy’s, or the magic mirror an insidious ticker tape, feels original and perfectly in keeping with the setting. You begin to wonder how no one else has ever thought to do this before.

You’d also be forgiven for reading the book, walking away, giving it a year, and then remembering it as wordless. It isn’t, but Phelan’s choosy with his wordplay this time. Always a fan of silent sequences, I was struck by the times we do see words. Whether it’s the instructions on the ticker tape (a case could easily be made that these instructions are entirely in the increasingly deranged step-mother’s mind), Snow’s speech about how snow beautifies everything, or the moment when each one of the boys tells her his name, Phelan’s judiciousness makes the book powerful time and time again. Can you imagine what it would have felt like if there had been an omniscient narrator? The skin on the back of my neck shudders at the thought.

For all that the words are few and far between, you often get a very good sense of the characters anyway. Snow’s a little bit Maria Von Trapp and a little bit Mary Poppins to the boys. I would have liked Phelan to give her a bit more agency than, say, Disney did. For example, when her step-mother informs her, after the reading of her father’s will, that her old room is no longer her own, I initially misread Snow’s response to be that she was going out to find a new home on her own. Instead, she’s just going for a walk and gets tracked down by Mr. Hunt in the process. It felt like a missed beat, but not something that sinks the ship. Contrast that with the evil stepmother. Without ever being graphic about it, not even once, this lady just exudes sex. It’s kind of hard to explain. There’s that moment when the old stagehand remembers when he once turned his own body into a step stool so that she could make her grand entrance during a show. There’s also her first entrance in the Follies, fully clothed but so luscious you can understand why Snow’s father would fall for her. The book toys with the notion that the man is bewitched rather than acting of his own accord, but it never gives you an answer to that question one way or another.

Lest we forget, the city itself is also a character. Having lived in NYC for eleven years, I’ve always been very touchy about how it’s portrayed in books for kids. When contemporary books are filled with alleyways it makes me mighty suspicious. Old timey fare gets a pass, though. Clever too of Phelan to set the book during the winter months. As Snow says at one point, “snow covers everything and makes the entire world beautiful . . . This city is beautiful, too. It has its own magic.” So we get Art Deco interiors, and snow covered city tops seen out of huge plate glass windows. We get theaters full of gilt and splendor and the poverty of Hoovervilles in the park, burning trashcans and all. It felt good. It felt right. It felt authentic. I could live there again.

We live in a blessed time for graphic novels. With the recent win of what may well be the first graphic novel to win a National Book Award, they are respected, flourishing, and widely read. Yet for all that, the graphic novels written for children are not always particularly beautiful to the eye. Aesthetics take time. A beautiful comic is also a lot more time consuming than one done freehand in Photoshop. All the more true if that comic has been done almost entirely in watercolors as Phelan has here. I don’t think that there’s a soul alive who could pick up this book and not find it beautiful. What’s interesting is how Phelan balances the Art Deco motifs with the noir-ish scenes and shots. When we think of noir graphic novels we tend to think of those intensely violent and very adult classics like Sin City. Middle grade noir is almost unheard of at this point. Here, the noir is in the tone and feel of the story. It’s far more than just the black and white images, though those help too in their way.

The limited color palette, similar in many ways to The Storm in the Barn with how it uses color, here invokes the movies of the past. He always has a reason, that Matt Phelan. His judicious use of color is sparing and soaked with meaning. The drops of blood, often referred to in the original fairytale as having sprung from the queen’s finger when she pricked herself while sewing, is re-imagined as drops of bright red blood on a handkerchief and the pure white snow, a sure sign of influenza. Red can be lips or an apple or cheeks in the cold. Phelan draws scenes in blue or brown or black and white to indicate when you’re watching a memory or a different moment in time, and it’s very effective and easy to follow. And then there’s the last scene, done entirely in warm, gentle, full-color watercolors. It does the heart good to see.

The thing about Matt Phelan is that he rarely does the same story twice. About the only thing you can count on with him is that he loves history and the past. Indeed, between showing off a young Buster Keaton ( Bluffton) and a ravaged Dust Bowl setting (The Storm in the Barn) it’s possible “Snow White” is just an extension of his favorite era. As much a paean to movies as it is fairytales and graphic novels, Phelan limits his word count and pulls off a tale with truly striking visuals and killer emotional resonance. I don’t think I’ve ever actually enjoyed the story of Snow White until now. Hand this book to graphic novel fans, fairytale fans, and any kid who’s keen on good triumphing over evil. There might be one or two such children out there. This book is for them.

On shelves now.

Aww. Didja miss these? It’s not like I see as many videos these days, y’know. Not for lack of interest. They just don’t float in front my nose the way they used to. Fortunately there are a couple that I’ve collected in my travels and I’m featuring them here today. They may be a bit old. You may have seen them 100 times before. But what the hey, right? Life is short.

First up, ALSC released the Newbery/Caldecott/Wilder reaction videos.  Grab your popcorn and enjoy:

I just saw this next trailer online (thank you, Monica!) and I cannot convey to you the avarice I hold for anyone who has already seen this.  It’s Matt Phelan’s latest.  And it’s gorgeous:

Another trailer to follow.  True, the violin brings to mind a kind of Ken Burns-y feel. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

A couple months ago young Marley Dias put out the call for middle grade black girl books. I missed the fact that she appeared on Ellen. Problem alleviated!

Thanks to Rita Williams-Garcia for the link.

I do not wish to take away from Travis Jonker his drop dead amazing compilation of peculiar I WANT MY HAT BACK videos he compiled.  So I will just put one here and tell you to go to his site to see the rest.

This does my little 1984 heart good.

It’s summer.  Everyone’s making summer reading videos.  This is my library’s.  My superintendent is sitting on a slide (at Penny Park, clearly).  It gives me great respect for the man.  Plus, check out that logo at the end.  I hate to say it, guys, but I think my library hosts the most attractive summer reading t-shirt this year.

Hm.  That would make a good blog post. . . .

And just to round this all out in a nice way, here’s the book trailer for Evan Turk’s The Storyteller (one of the most beautiful picture books of the year):

Happy 4th of July!

Woo hoo!  It's Friday!!!

And you know what that means, boys and girls...

It's time for Perfect Picture Books!

What with Halloween coming up and all, I thought a book about monsters would be very appropriate, even if it isn't specifically Halloweenie. :)  I loved this book from the opening sentence.  I hope you will too!

A few weeks back I posted a review in our Perfect Picture Book Friday series of the first book Matt illustrated, THE NEW GIRL…. AND ME. I had so many comments on this post on my Facebook page from people … Continue reading →

The jolly gift of the season, for me, is to have friends with oodles, sheer oodles, of talent just ah-flowing out of their gills (so to speak).  Last year I posted about how some buddies and I got together to make Shrinky-Dink Christmas ornaments (which, in turn, led to Shrinky-Dink Caldecott jewelry later in the year).  This year we upped the ante, so to speak.

So I was sitting in my office, minding my own business, when the mail arrived.  And not just any mail either.  Big mail.  Big flat mail.  Big flat mail that had a very prominent bakery sticker on the outside.  I got very excited when I saw that.  Tis the season for chocolate goodies, yes?

No chocolate awaited me inside (well, maybe a little chocolate).  What I found instead was a remarkable little gingerbread house kit, complete with a copy of the latest Scaredy Squirrel title Scaredy Squirrel Prepares for Christmas.  Inside was a handy dandy builder’s permit (made out to me!), pre-made frosting, gingerbread, the works!

Knowing that I had a Christmas party in my home coming up I schlepped it to my apartment and waited until this past weekend to start construction.  Not that I constructed a darn thing. Nope.  Say hello to the foreman in charge of this project, Josh Ess.

Some of you may remember Josh as the husband of the illustrious Lori Ess and the man who single-handedly saved an Eric Carle Museum program that featured Anita Silvey (amongst others) when its computer went on the fritz.  Turns out, the man does a mean edible arrangement.  This may have something to do with the fact that he is a professionally trained chef.  Perhaps.

The first problem we had with the house turned out to be the biggest.  At some point in its travels, the body of the house had cracked.

So yes.  We were dealing with a crack house.  Josh put the crack house together as best he could and you can see the clever patching job done with frosting.  Still, things were looking dire.  Particularly when it was discovered that the roof didn’t really fit either.  This called for creativity!!  Step #1: Place gumdrops where the house would normally connect.

Step #2: Stick everything in place with copious frosting.

Step #3: Place other portion of roof on top without toppling everything like a house of cards.

Ta dah!  With some effort the house started to perk up a bit.  Josh even arranged the faux M&Ms on the top in a rainbow pattern.

Now it was time to decorate.  And who better to help with that feature than graphic novelist Gareth Hinds?  You may remember him from such graphic novel Shakespearan adaptations as King Lear, or his work on The Odyssey and Beowulf.  He’s got a killer Romeo & Juliet out in the future, and a very fine hand on hiding the cracked doorway of the house going on here.

Not that Josh wasn’t a remarkable piper when it came to the frosting.

That is the advantage of doing a house like this.  When you make a mistake, you eat the cement.

Ta dah!!  A happy home for all to see.

But what really sealed the deal for me was Josh’s attention to fine details that would have gone unnoticed had someone not pointed them out.  When we weren’t looking he took the Tootsie Rolls that came with the house, some frosting and some toothpicks and made . . . a reindeer!!

Then later in the evening, that same reindeer morphed into Rudolph.

That is what happens when you separate the gingerbread men from the gingerbread boys, son.  Josh, you are the undeniable gingerbread king.

Others have received this same house in the mail.  If you want to see the full roster you can see them on the Scaredy Squirrel Facebook Page.  The blog Pickle Me This actually put the darn thing together using the instructions and ALL the ingredients.  Other blogs followed suit.  Go here or here if you want to see what it was supposed to look like.

After that there was nothing for it but to make a couple Christmas ornaments with whatever picture book characters I happened to have hanging around my living room.  This year the winners included:

Me Want Pet by Bob Shea – ornament created using markers (!!!!) by Alison Morris

Flora’s Very Windy Day by Jeanne Birdsall, illustrated by Matt Phelan – ornament created by Lori Ess using only colored pencils

Humpty Dumpty from the Will Moses Mother Goose – ornament created by Josh Ess

Dick Tracy by my very own resident husband Matt.

And a Sumo wrestler  – ornament created just off the top of his head on a spur of the moment whim by Gareth Hinds.  It was not traced.

If you do not have a tiny Sumo wrestler on YOUR tree, I pity you.

I cannot thank my guests enough for such a fantastic party.  Thanks to Alison Morris, Gareth Hinds, Lori Ess, John Ess, and Matt for helping to make this the bestest Christmas ever.  Special thanks to Alison for the bulk of these fabulous pictures.

And thanks to the folks at Kids Can Press for allowing me the chance to make a house of my very own with absolutely zero effort on my own part.

Finally, my own offspring.  Suited up to fit the holidays.

by Matt Phelan Candlewick  2011 Three remarkable journeys made by a trio of intrepid adventurers – Thomas Stevens, Nellie Bly, and Joshua Slocum – on the eve of the 20th century, rendered in graphic novel format.   As a prologue, we begin with the wager that sets up Jules Verne's Around the World in 80 Days. It seems an impossible (and almost arbitrary) goal to set, but fantastical enough

Around the World
By Matt Phelan
Candlewick Press
$24.99
ISBN: 978-0-7636-3619-7
Ages 9 and up
On shelves October 11, 2011

Book phenomenons are something, aren’t they? Get the right writer and they can use words alone to inspire people to do the craziest things. Whether it’s Wizard Rock or standing on docks to find out if a favorite character has died, as long as there has been literature there have been people taking books to heart in surprising ways. Around the World in 80 Days may be one of the more extreme examples of this. Had Phileas Fogg not set out to traverse the globe in a matter of scant days, he could not have sparked the imaginations of three intrepid late 19th century individuals. Now you could write a decent nonfiction triple biography of the three for kids and no one would raise so much as an eyebrow (unless it was bad, of course). What’s unexpected is taking these true stories and turning them into a single graphic novel. Inspired by their stories, and even more by their internal struggles, Matt Phelan finds a way to bring to life three striking individuals and their circumnavigation dreams.

In the second half of the 19th century a fictional character set out with a challenge. His name was Phileas Fogg, the book was Around the World in 80 Days and the challenge was inherent in the title. So popular was the novel that it inspired others to travel in Fogg’s footsteps, so to speak. Three in particular come to mind. First, a miner by the name of Thomas Stevens. Thinking that there must be more to life than spending it underground, Stevens was inspired when he saw his very first bicycle. After purchasing one and biking across the country Stevens got it into his head to go bigger. Why not bike around the world? Next up, the intrepid female reporter Nellie Bly who vowed to beat Fogg’s 80-day mark and became a national sensation in the process. Finally there was Captain Joshua Slocum, a man haunted by his own past who sailed around the world over a time span of over three years. Three people. Three reasons for their trips. Three entrancing stories.

Matt Phelan’s previous dalliance with graphic novels was The Storm in the Barn, a winner of the Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction. That novel was a curious combination of history and fantasy, rendered in almost uniformly brown panels. With Around the World Phelan switches focus and concentrates entirely on real world events. He seems more comfortable working with real people and their lives than he did dabbling in the fantastical. Not that this book doesn’t have it’s own share of mirages, hallucinations, and monkeys, but through it all are storylines based in fact. For this reason, Phelan makes