Books like Oscar's Half Birthday

A special story told (as Jez Alborough brilliantly does) in few words and with rhymes that read just right. A young dog called Sid is so filled with happiness that he flies! But he can’t convince anyone that this has happened. He’s laughed at. “…dogs don’t fly – it can’t be done,” says his teacher. “Dogs don’t fly!” repeat his friends. This leaves Sid alone and sad. But his father comes by. He asks what’s wrong, and it saves the day.

Sid’s dad believes in him. He understands Sid’s free spirit because he shares it. And these two things (literally) lift Sid up again. It’s a wonderful image of the magic a father-son bond can do.

It’s raining. Pete can’t go out to “play ball with the guys.” So he’s in a bad mood. His father thinks it might cheer Pete up to be made into a pizza. He’s right, of course! Dad kneads him and twirls him up in the air. He sprinkles on cheese (actually torn-up bits of paper) and puts him in the oven (actually the sofa).

This is a celebration of the parents’ trick of distracting a grumpy child with a bit of zany humour. (Best trick in the book, as far as I’m concerned.) And what a wonderfully loving, inventive, energetic dad William Steig has created! Pete laughs “like crazy”. And the sun comes out at the end.

A brilliant book (who would dare publish this today?) by the author of the equally brilliant Ben’s Trumpet. In a South African township, some children expect their migrant-labourer fathers to arrive home after 10 months away. They wait, in a celebratory mood at first, but with increasing tiredness and uncertainty as the day and the night go by. They tell stories to stay awake. But the youngest falls asleep. A truck pulls up. It’s not their dads. Then the day dawns. And, with it, the fathers arrive.

There’s hardly any characterisation of the dads. They come to life through the children’s excitement and persistence. So does the deep emotion of an absent father returning. My boys have often chosen this book at bedtime. And they know it well enough to look up curiously when the dads arrive - to check if there are tears of happiness in my eyes.… show more.

A longer story that is illustrated with great skill and feeling by PJ Lynch. (And it’s another one that brings tears to my eyes most times I read it!) Jonathan Toomey is a wood carver who has moved to a village far from where his wife and baby died. So this is not a typical picture book dad. He is solitary and grieving.

The widow McDowell and her son, Thomas, are newcomers to the village. In their move, they have lost a precious nativity set. So they ask Jonathan Toomey if he will carve them a new one. The carpenter reluctantly agrees. His heart warms to both Thomas and Thomas’s mother. He carves a beautiful replacement nativity set. In the making, he faces his terrible loss. And the final, beautiful image is of the three of them walking side by side on Christmas day with laughter in their eyes.

I love books about obsession, and when they are told through the mind of a thoughtful and intelligent journalist, all the better in my book! As a journalist who has covered fisheries at the intersection of science and sustainability, I knew I had to read this book. I knew it would be important, but I had no idea I would love it so much.

Like the best nonfiction books on my shelf, this one is multidisciplinary and includes science, history, crime, environmental justice, and more. I moved seamlessly through the narrative, which carried me from dock to boat, science to policy, history to global dilemma. When a book leaves me reconsidering my place in the world, as this one did, I know it’s one to which I will return. 

This genre-busting debut novel by Tasmanian writer Robbie Arnott defies all attempts to describe or classify it. The writing is vibrant and beautiful. It’s a book that fills your lungs with a blast of fresh air, the scents of the cool southern rainforests and dazzles you with clouds and sun and rain and fire. It seamlessly blends realism with a spirit world, binding the human to the animal in an evocatively magical and disturbing story that brings Australian nature and animals into focus in an entirely new literary landscape. I defy anyone to read this book and not fall in love with the Rakali and weep a little the next time it rains. Quite the most remarkable book I’ve read.

The classic “David and Goliath” theme of a smaller hero conquering a mighty adversary—but with a fishy twist! A school of small red fish and one black fish, Swimmy, all live together happily until “one bad day” a huge tuna gobbles up all the red fish. Only Swimmy, who is faster than the others, gets away. At first Swimmy is lonely without his friends but then bravely begins exploring the wonders of the sea. When Swimmy finds a new school of red fish, he tries to get them to come out to play. But they are too afraid to go out because a big fish might eat them. Then Swimmy gets an idea. He trains the school of small red fish to swim in formation like one big fish, with him as the eye. 

This book blew my mind when I first read it. In fact, it continues to do so today, over 20 years since it was first written. Perverse, contradictory, offensive, effervescent, and totally un-put-downable, Brown (aka Nov, aka Nov York, aka Dumaar Freemaninov) takes us on an extraordinary journey into the life of a 1990s New York graffiti writer, into the underbelly and dirt of the city and into its drugged out, demented dramas.

How autobiographical is it? How much is truth? How much fiction? Whichever the answer, Brown’s anarchic, unique book took me on a trip that I will never forget, and in doing so, gives an insight into a world far beyond the graffiti image itself. A must-read (and to be read aloud whilst travelling on the subway as per the author’s instructions)! 

My interest in graffiti started during a visit to Ramallah, Palestine. Since there is no functioning government that can remove graffiti, the city walls are covered in layers upon layers of graffiti. Anything reachable by human hand is decorated in paint. From the profound to the vulgar. Political to benign. It suddenly occurred to me that in the city of Ramallah no one needs to wonder: “What are people thinking? What is on their mind?” The writing is on the wall. Simply open your eyes and absorb the order within the chaos. Against the Wall reminds me of that moment of inspiration that later informed my novel.

I learned so much from reading anthropologist Susan Phillips’ fantastic account of Los Angeles over the last 100 years. Exploring the history of the city from the ground up, she combines a microscopic analysis of the city’s diverse graffiti cultures–from the graffiti of hobos to that of surfers, prisoners, and punks–with a macroscopic account of the changing nature of this most famous megalopolis.

I loved the beautiful, intimate images Philips included, as well as her refreshing, first-person appearance throughout the book. More than anything, though, I really enjoyed the way that Phillip's approach extends the understanding of 20th-century graffiti beyond the traditional East Cost (and hip-hop-centric) focus, seeing an entire world within the traces the most marginalized leave behind and showing how graffiti reveals as much about the changing nature of a city as of society itself.