— the instinct to create, to make things with our own hands, is part of every man’s natural inheritance
I like to think that somewhere in the work we do lies the secret of existence. Something our work demands of us, differing perhaps with each individual and yet, rightly understood, demanding our best; something it gives to us, helping to mould us and through us giving a contribution to the world. The man who receives much and gives much is the man of genius, but we others, each in his different degree, have all something to give and can give willingly and feel our powers grow and strengthen or we can refuse and dwindle to less than our full stature. What that stature is nobody knows this side of eternity but we can add enormously to the purpose and meaning of our lives by trying to find out.
— Charles Hayward, The Woodworker magazine, 1954, excerpted from “Honest Labour“
Tell someone you’re working on a children’s book, and you can anticipate a few common responses – expressions of delight, followed by a short list of favorite titles and hope-filled questions such as “Will there be pictures?” People generally assume that books intended for children will be simple affairs, often with some type of moral instruction on the importance of kindness, taking responsibility when things go wrong, or learning about such hard-to-face topics as pimples and poop. Odds are, you won’t get a lot of questions about research.
But when author and editor Kara Gebhart Uhl sent me a PDF of her forthcoming book as a personal preview, the most compelling questions I wanted to ask concerned the research that underlay the work. How had she come up with the topic, a tale centered around an ancient tree in Wales, a place that Kara herself has not (yet) even visited? How had she found an illustrator whose work may well make this book a contender for a Caldecott Medal? And is it OK to have scary stuff in a book meant for kids?
Perfect for this spooky time of year
Let’s start with the last question, which struck me as I was reading the part of the book about witch trials that took place beneath the tree:
“Witch hunters strapped suspected witches to an oak armchair and dunked it into the water,” reads the story a few pages in. “If the woman survived, she was deemed a witch and executed.”
“And if she was innocent?” asks Cadi, the story’s young protagonist.
“She drowned.”
It’s one thing to terrorize kids with images of cackling, bony-fingered witches in pointy hats (even though most of us beyond the age of, say, 5, recognize those depictions as cartoon stereotypes). Far more disturbing is the historical reality of witch trials, in which women suspected of practicing sorcery were “tried” by what we today would call torture. If they were innocent, they died, thereby proving that they lacked a witch’s superpowers; if guilty, they lived, only to be put to death. I can think of few things more disturbing than the absolute injustice of being damned whether you’re innocent or guilty. And at 62, I’m far from a child.
Knowing Kara as I do, I felt confident that she’d done the necessary research.
“As I think back to the stories I connected to as a child, there was some deepness to them,” she began in response. “I think of ‘Charlotte’s Web.’ I remember when Sophie [Kara’s 13-year-old daughter] was reading it…she was getting to the end and she started crying. And yet she loved the book, and I loved the book. But it is sad. But also not, in many ways!” Sounds like life to me – endlessly faceted, with meanings that shift according to your perspective. How is this not a valuable lesson for children?
It’s also helpful to note that Kara plans to pitch this book to “older children” – say, age 8 and above, though Kara hesitates even to state an age range, aware that the tolerance for sad or scary content varies from one child to another. She sent a list of articles and essays she’d consulted on the advisability of telling kids sad and scary stories:
She’d done the research. As Cadi’s grandmother says, echoing one of DiCamillo’s points, “There will always be sad stories. Scary stories. Heavy stories you wish had never happened. Sometimes the only way to lighten the load is to share them.”
Kara also sent more than a page of information about other aspects of the book, with illustrative references. Some of this material makes for an intriguing read in its own right. Take this excerpt, for example, which is full of references to idiosyncratic features of Welsh culture:
“Detailed images and descriptions of the plasterwork scene(and the restaurant) can be found in this Standing Building Report commissioned by the Snowdonia National Park Authority here and also in an article here. Legend states that frieze depicts the Nannau oak and even features actual branches, but this is almost certainly not true. It is likely the armorial was constructed as late as the 19th century, perhaps when it was used by the Dolgellau Cricket and Reading Club, and the tree was constructed as part of the 1758 restoration of the hall, as the subject’s clothing matches that time period. Y Sospan is still an operating restaurant located in Dolgellau – pictures can be found on their Facebook page here. Breaded chicken goujons [are] on the children’s menu.
“A gaol is a jail. According to the Standing Building Report this building was first built in 1606 as Shire Hall with House of Corrections (gaol) below. Images of a ducking (sometimes called cucking) stool.”
Why the Nannau Oak?
Kara was thrilled to find a copy of this original magazine from 1832.
For years, Kara had wanted to write a children’s book. Like many of us, she started writing long before she got a contract, coming up with ideas, and then developing them as she could make time around the edges of her regular work. Most readers will know her as a managing editor at Lost Art Press, but she freelance writes and edits for other clients, including magazines, universities, ad agencies and companies. A wife and mother of three kids – her twin sons, Owen and James, are 11 – she shares the diverse demands of family with her husband, Andy, and has little time for personal creative endeavors. As she points out, “It’s hard to find the time for something you’re not getting paid for unless it ends up happening.” You have to go out on a limb, balancing your passion and determination to see a project through against the energy required to honor the responsibilities and opportunities of everyday life. Even with a contract, there’s no guarantee that your project will become anything more than a bunch of words in an electronic file, perhaps to be printed out and read to your own family someday. (In fact, many – perhaps most – publishing contracts state that the contract does not guarantee the piece of writing will be published, though most of the time that is what happens.)
But Kara kept writing. At one point she had a literary agent. These days you pretty much have to have an agent to break into the world of big-time publishing, and just finding an experienced agent willing to represent you can be its own challenge. Kara’s agent got the manuscript for one of her books all the way to the acquisitions department with HarperCollins, but the finance department said no.
“You get rejections,” she acknowledges. And how. “Agents and others are so overworked. Rejections come at all times.” She recalls one particular occasion, when Sophie was having a piano lesson. In came the email. Kara ran to the bathroom, where she stuck her face in a towel and cried. Then she went downstairs and “carried on mothering.”
Kara’s parents gave her this linocut print by Nicola Barsaleau after her rejection by HarperCollins.It reads “She loved books, yet she knew the search for the right book at the right time was a sacred affair.”
The idea for “The Curse of the Nannau Oak” grew out of Kara’s work on “Honest Labour,” a collection of essays by Charles Hayward published in TheWoodworker magazine, which Hayward edited from 1936 to 1966. She looked through every page of every issue, collecting the “enticing tidbits” that Hayward scattered around the pages – fun information related to woodworking, such as “The Diary” that took her into deep, fanciful rabbit holes. “In one of them he talked about the Nannau Oak, the story of it being haunted,” she said. “I immediately thought, that could make a really cool children’s book.” She made a note and started doing research whenever she could make the time. After six months she mustered the nerve to pitch the idea to Christopher Schwarz by email. She was relieved when he responded, “Hell yes this is cool.”
They set up a meeting, several weeks later. By the end of the discussion they agreed that the germ of the tale would require elaboration. She dug back in with research and writing for another five months.
Once she had a rough draft, she got a contract.
She says she “broke about every single rule” when it comes to writing a picture book for children. As the former managing editor for Writer’s Digest magazine (and currently a contributing editor), she’s familiar with publishers’ expectations. The book publishing industry generally prefers picture books for children to be no longer than 1,000 words, with around 500 words being preferred, which translates roughly to one full page of single-spaced text on a standard sheet of 8-1/2” x 11” paper. (By comparison, a manuscript for a nonfiction work aimed at adults is typically a minimum of 60,000 words.) At the end of her rough draft, she was at 2,000 words. Another publisher would likely have turned it down, or told her to take a buzz saw to it. Not Chris Schwarz. Instead, he told her, “Don’t be afraid to flesh this out,” based on readers’ responses to “Grandpa’s Workshop.” “He doesn’t care what the traditional publishing world thinks,” Kara says. Instead, he told her, “We should make this what it needs to be.” By the time Kara’s manuscript was finished, it came in at around 4,000 words.
The unusual subject brought with it other challenges. Children’s books are usually written to be read aloud, typically by a parent to a child. But so many of the words in “The Curse of the Nannau Oak” are Welsh, which Kara doesn’t speak. There would have to be a glossary. (Those working on the book are hoping to add a guide to pronunciation.)
As she got deeper into the writing and received feedback from others – she specifically cites the value of constructive criticism from researcher Suzanne Ellison – the story became more complex and layered. Storytelling itself, which is integral to Welsh culture, became part of the story. Her original draft hadn’t even mentioned “The Mabinogion,” a classic of Welsh literature that popularized mythical tales such as those about King Arthur and Merlin. “I think it was while in the process of fleshing the story out, I decided to dive deeper into one of the central themes of the book which is the concept of ‘story,’ given that storytelling is so important to Welsh culture. And over and again I kept going back to ‘The Mabinogion’ in my research, or it would pop up on its own. While complex in nature, I felt like it was an important piece to include.”
The illustrations
It’s common knowledge that children’s books are among the most gorgeously illustrated literary genres, and this book is no exception. The illustrations by Elin Manon Cooper are fluid and lush, with layered detail. Nothing here is dumbed down for kids. Rather, the illustrations pull you in, inviting you to explore. Not only is this dimension of the book appropriate for adult readers whose children are long gone from home (or who never had them in the first place); it also expresses a respect for children’s potential to sense vastly more complexity and nuance than adults sometimes give them credit for, in addition to elevating the standard of what we think of as “child-appropriate artwork.”
Finding an illustrator proved more difficult than Kara anticipated. “It was important to me that my partner in this be Welsh,” she says. Even though Wales is a small country, she spent a lot of time searching online for an artist who would be a good fit. Instagram proved helpful; she searched hashtags such as #welshart, #welshillustrator and #welshfolkart. Adding to the challenge, she found that hashtag searches in Welsh turned up many more hits, so she tried a few of those as well. She contacted a few artists, among them Elin Manon Cooper. “Elin seemed so perfect for the book, with her fondness for trees and folktales,” Kara explains. “She even worked at St Fagans,” Wales’s National Museum of History. And she speaks Welsh. Things looked promising until Google published Elin’s Google Doodle commemorating St. David’s Day on March 1, 2021, prompting Kara to worry that Elin would be beyond the reach of a publisher such as Lost Art Press. Google Doodles don’t just happen; the internet search engine giant commissions them well in advance, and they’re seen by millions across the globe who use Google to search for anything on a given day, from paper clips to insulin syringes, translation tools from English to Latvian or what to do if you find a deer in your car. (For real.) “Oh my goodness, she’s going to be too popular!” Kara thought. “She’ll never say yes!” They talked about schedules, which initially posed a challenge. So Kara was extra-thrilled when Elin signed a contract in May to illustrate the book. “She’s worked so quickly,” Kara adds. “She thought she could finish the illustrations by the end of October and she’s well on her way.”
In the meantime, Elin has sent her illustrations-in-progress to Chris, who is designing the book. He takes each set and flows the text onto the pages, hugging the illustrations’ contours, then sends Elin and Kara an updated PDF.
The sophistication of Elin’s work is all the more striking considering that she’s just 23. (Then again, she is Welsh, and the Welsh are known to have special powers.)
Although this is Kara’s first book, it’s worth mentioning that “A Lesson I Hold Dear,” “This I Believe,” was published in the book by the same name. Kara graduated with a B.S. in magazine journalism from the Ohio University. After starting out in environmental pre-law and taking a variety of courses, she found she loved to write. She eventually switched majors to magazine journalism. She wrote a personal essay column for the college paper and has been writing ever since.
Kara’s dining room table, January 16 2021. Research materials for “The Curse of the Nannau Oak.”(By the way, nice figure!)
The shelves in Kara’s home office hold lots of illustrated books, along with books published by Lost Art Press. To this day, she says, she’ll come into the room after being away for a while “and there will be picture books scattered around. I don’t yell at [the kids] for not putting them away, because I’m intrigued by the ones they chose. It gives me insight into what’s going on in their world.”
A place to get lost for days. When Kara says she has a lot of illustrated books for children, she means it.
It’s easy to imagine young readers returning time and again to “The Curse of the Nannau Oak” for reassurance that trees, which provide us and our fellow creatures with so much – from oxygen and shade to edible nuts and fruits, not to mention the primary material for woodworking – can live a very long time. During its long life, a tree may witness tragic events and terrible acts; sometimes the tree itself may even be used in those acts’ commission. But the same world that visits pain and injustice on so many holds hope for something kinder, better and more lovely, a truth that young Cadi shares through her own story, which forms the book’s conclusion.
We are pleased to announce that “Shop Tails: The Animals Who Help Us Make Things Work,” by Nancy R. Hiller, is now available for purchase and is shipping immediately from our Indianapolis warehouse. The book is $29 plus shipping.
If you purchase the book before Nov. 11, 2021, you will receive a free pdf of the book at checkout. After Nov. 11, buying the book plus the pdf will cost $36.25.
“Shop Tails” is a loving tribute to the animals whose lives have been intertwined with Hiller’s own, and a companion to her first book of essays, “Making Things Work.” In “Making Things Work,” Nancy shares her life story as a series of vignettes, each with a lesson about craft, business and personal relationships, all centered on cabinetmaking in some form. In “Shop Tails,” cabinetmaking remains central because Nancy is, of course, a cabinetmaker – and many of her animal companions shared time in the shop with her over the years. But these essays delve into the lessons her animals have taught Nancy about relationships, loyalty, illness, joy, death and (also important) pudding. They also look unflinchingly into old wounds that have played their own part in making Nancy the person she is. She documents her efforts to prove her worth to others, as well as herself, in the workshop and beyond. And she discovers the empowerment that can come from honoring the life you’ve made in response to the hand you’ve been dealt.
This collection of essays brought tears to my eyes a few times as I read, most often from empathy, but also from laughter. I haven’t had quite as many pets in my life as has Nancy, but every one I’ve had has taught me a worthwhile lesson or two.
We hope that many Lost Art Press retailers will carry this title, but that is their decision. So a note to your favorite retailer might encourage them to carry the title.
In “Saws, Planes, and Scorps,” David Heim celebrates contemporary makers of quality woodworking hand tools and workbenches, from one-person shops that specialize in one or a few tools, to four larger toolworks that offer a wide range of tools.
It’s a who’s who in the hand tool world, with interesting vignettes of the makers and pictures of their tools, arranged by tool type (and some makers appear in more than one section), and an introduction by Joshua Klein.
I could have simply included a picture of the table of contents…but it was more fun to test my memory of “toolworks vs. tool work vs. tool works” for various companies. (If I got one wrong, apologies.) The chapters are as follows:
“Prominent Toolworks:” Lie-Nielsen Toolworks, Lee Valley Tools/Veritas, Bridge City Tool Works and Woodpeckers.
“Workbenches:” Benchcrafted, Plate 11 Woodworking, Frank Strazza, RE-CO BKLYN, Lake Erie Toolworks, Acer-Ferrous Toolworks, Texas Heritage Woodworks, Blum Tool Co. (includes sidebars/profiles on Christopher Schwarz, the French Oak Roubo Project and the Japanese approach).
“Squares, Gauges, Marking Knives, and Awls:” Colen Clenton, Vesper Tools, Blue Spruce Toolworks, Bridge City Tool Works, Sterling Tool Works, Shenandoah Tool Works, Blackburn Tools, Glen-Drake Toolworks, Florip Toolworks, Hamilton Toolworks, DMF Tool Works, Seth Gould and Czeck Edge Hand Tool (includes a sidebar on the sector).
“Hand Saws:” Skelton Saws, Bad Axe Tool Works, Florip Toolworks, Tools for Working Wood, with sidebars/profiles on Marco Terenzi and Blackburn Saws saw kits.
“Hand Planes:” Holtey Classic Hand Planes, Sauer & Steiner Toolworks, The Lazarus Handplane Co., Daed Toolworks, Brese Plane, Bill Carter, BJS Planes and Woodworking, Old Street Tool, M.S. Bickford, Philly Planes, J. Wilding, Voigt Planes, Red Rose Reproductions, Blum Tool Co., Bridge City Tool Works, HNT Gordon & Co., Scott Meek Woodworks, Benedetto, and Walke Moore Tools (includes sidebars/profiles on St. James Bay Tool Co., Ron Hock and James Krenov).
“Hammers, Mallets, and Chisels:” Old Soldier Toolworks, Blue Spruce Toolworks, Crucible Tool, Shenandoah Tool Works, Sterling Tool Works, HNT Gordon & Co., Blum Tool Co., Brent Bailey Forge, Barr Specialty Tools and Brese Plane (includes sidebars/profiles on GreenWood, Seth Gould’s embellished hammers and Elkhead Tools screwdrivers).
“Spokeshaves, Drawknives, Scorps, and Travishers:” Caleb James Maker, Dave’s Shaves, Moberg Tools, HNT Gordon & Co., Cariboo Blades, Barr Specialty Tools, Old Soldier Toolworks, Claire Minihan Woodworks, Elia Bizzarri Hand Tool Woodworking, Crown Plane and The Windsor Workshop (includes profiles on Peter Galbert and Russ Filbeck).
“Adzes, Hatches, and Knives:” Jason A. Lonon Toolmaker, Start Raven Studios, Cariboo Blades, Brent Baily Forge, North Bay Forge, Drake Knives, Craft Lab, Pinewood Forge, Preferred Edge Carving Knives & Supplies and Deepwoods Ventures.
Heim’s selection of “exceptional woodworking tools and their makers” is informed by his experience as a woodworker and former associate editor for Fine Woodworking magazine, and for the most part, I agree with his choices, but in a book that features mostly what are arguably “boutique” hand tools, the inclusion of Woodpeckers is curious. I’m not dissing their tools, but when I think of that company, I think red, anodized table saw fences and drill press tables (and a few marking and measuring tools). And I was kind of surprised that Tools for Working Wood didn’t show up under “Prominent Toolworks” given the company’s range – or at least appear in multiple categories. Also, why include Bridge City in both prominent tool works and hand planes, but not Lie-Nielsen or Veritas in any of the categories? Still, I’d be hard pressed to choose and sort all the makers I know into categories, either – and no doubt someone (many someones) would take issue with my choices.
I do think this book belongs on the shelves of woodworkers. It’s fun to learn a bit about who makes the tools you use, and it’s not a bad shopping list, either!
“Saws, Planes, and Scorps” (Princeton Architectural Press) has a cover price of $27.50, and is available now from bookstores.
I am a biased reviewer. I’ve read and loved all of Nick Offerman’s previous books, and have laughed uproariously at his comedy shows. I’ve watched “Parks & Rec” all the way through several times, and think “Devs” is brilliant. I greatly admire the work Offerman and the rest of the crew do at the Offerman Woodshop. He is an altogether nice fellow. So, I was wholly prepared to enjoy his new book, “Where the Deer and the Antelope Play: The Pastoral Observations of One Ignorant American Who Loves to Walk Outside.”
The book – a response to a challenge from one of Offerman’s heroes, writer Wendell Berry – is in three parts, each exploring a different type of relationship to the land, and our relationships to one another. Throughout, Offerman asks us to confront uncomfortable truths that have helped shape much of the land as we know it today – and he’s not shy with his opinions on racism, strident Christianity, agribusiness, Fox News and more. I sing in the same liberal choir, so I found myself nodding in agreement, but I expect some who are (still!) expecting Ron Swanson will be disgruntled. But perhaps Offerman’s sardonic and self-deprecating humor, and the genuine delight with the natural world that pervades every page, will be enough to keep them reading.
The first part shares a tourist’s relationship with nature – getting out in it through a “bromance brothers” trip to Glacier National Park with Offerman, singer Jeff Tweedy and writer George Saunders. While hiking, rafting, and navigating a couple of scary incidents that could have ended Wilco, the friends had serious and enlightening conversations ranging from food production to Aldo Leopold, and from race relations to how not to be an asswipe. By the end of the trip, writes Offerman, “We three middle- aged white guys, ever aware of our privilege, had taken pretty full advantage of the recreation available in the glorious acreage that some other white guys had set aside for just that purpose.”
In the second part, Offerman helps to shape nature in a small way as he works alongside Cumbrian sheep farmer and writer James Rebanks in a number of flying visits. In this section, Offerman focuses on labor, how agriculture has shaped the land, the ethics of farming and the necessity of ecological stewardship. “We must understand that we are not passive passengers on this mothership Earth, but instead we must participate in the journey, whether that means grabbing an oar and helping to row, or feeding the crew, or holystoning the decks. Only then will we be able to help steer this venerable vessel away from the shopping mall/ Amazon.com and toward the woods and the meadow and the beck.”
The first two sections took part prior to the pandemic, and while Offerman ambles metaphorically through many topics therein, both are (mostly) located in one physical place. Part three is more of a ramble of both place and political topic. With time on their hands due to Covid-19, Offerman and his wife, Megan Mullally (and their dog, Clover), spent the fall of 2020 traveling with an Airstream trailer through West, Midwest and Southwest, safely visiting friends and family, and hiking the trails in some gorgeous locations. (He would like you to know, however, that “Sedona blows” and you shouldn’t bother.) I couldn’t find one quotation I felt summed up the section, but the following is a decent distillation of the book as a whole: “Mother Nature is not an American, and she is not proud. She is all creation, so her vibe encompasses all experience, in every size, shape, and color, from the high to the low. Her economy and its successful evolution thrive on diversity, and her children never rest in their glorious participation, reproducing and adapting, so as to grow ever stronger.”
The above makes the “Where the Deer and the Antelope Play” sound altogether serious – and there is no doubt that Offerman cares passionately about nature and our role in it – but it’s also a funny and entertaining travelogue. And in case I haven’t made it clear: highly recommended.
