Wong, Janet S. 1962-

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Janet S. Wong 1962-

INTRODUCTION
PRINCIPAL WORKS
AUTHOR COMMENTARY
TITLE COMMENTARY
FURTHER READING

(Full name Janet Siu Wong) American children's poet and picture book writer.

INTRODUCTION

Wong is an Asian American children's poet whose works employ a variety of voices and poetic styles to explore her own heritage. Born in the United States, Wong is the daughter of a Korean-born mother and a Chinese-born father—all three cultures have found a place in her works. Although she was an adult before she came to appreciate poetry, Wong became such a fervent advocate of the form that she gave up her career as a corporate lawyer to become a children's poet. Her verse has won praise for its unique structure and phrasing as well as its variety of thematic material—typically explorations of cultural heritage and everyday life. In an interview with Something about the Author, Wong commented that, "I like poems that are not afraid to talk about painful things. I like poems that make you laugh, or cry; poems that grab you and make you read them again; poems that make you think." Wong has also fostered a reputation as an author of juvenile picture books, beginning with the publication of Buzz in 2000.

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

Wong was born on September 30, 1962, in Los Angeles, California. The mixed heritage of her parents and the cosmopolitan nature of Los Angeles exposed Wong early to a environment rich with cultural diversity. She attended the University of California in Los Angeles as a history major, but spent her junior year in France studying art history at the Université de Bordeaux. Upon her return, Wong founded the Immigrant Children's Art Project, a program focused on teaching refugee children to express themselves through art. She graduated summa cum laude from the University of California in 1983 and enrolled in the Yale School of Law, receiving her J.D. in 1987. While at Yale, Wong was the director of the Yale Law and Technology Association and worked for New Haven Legal Aid. After obtaining her law degree, Wong worked as an attorney in Los Angeles, practicing corporate and labor law for GTE and Universal Studios until 1991. In 1991 Wong attended a workshop about writing for children which featured a reading by the poet Myra Cohn Livingston. Wong had such an intense emotional response to the reading that she subsequently chose to abandon her law career to pursue professional writing, although she continued to work as an arbitrator until 1995. Her first book of poetry for young adults, Good Luck Gold and Other Poems was published in 1994, receiving a warm critical reception. Wong followed Good Luck Gold with several additional works of poetry, exploring themes related to her life and multi-ethnicity. In 1995 Wong served as Writer in Residence to the University of Southern California Writing Project, and in 1997, she served as a Visiting Author to the Singapore Society for Reading and Literacy. In April 2003 Wong was invited to read from her work at the annual White House Easter Egg Roll.

MAJOR WORKS

In Wong's first two collections of poetry for young adults—Good Luck Gold and Other Poems and A Suitcase of Seaweed and Other Poems (1996)—the author explores her mixed ethnic background by utilizing a child's point-of-view. The poems examine themes of family, a child's burgeoning sense of self-identity, and cultural traditions. A Suitcase of Seaweed is divided into three separate sections—Korean, Chinese, and American—with a short personal memoir introducing each segment. Another of Wong's recurring subjects throughout her verse is the complex relationship between mothers and their children. In The Rainbow Hand: Poems about Mothers and Children (1999), Wong creates a subtle portrait of how the pressures of the modern world can make children question the strength of the maternal bond. In a similar vein, Behind the Wheel: Poems about Driving (1999) collects a series of poems inspired by the myriad errands that are typically part of a busy American mother's daily routine.

Wong branched out into a new literary genre with Buzz, her first picture book for young children. The story recounts in simple text all of the things that go "buzz" in a little boy's world—the alarm clock, his father's electric shaver, the blender, the doorbell, and so on. Returning to Wong's prevailing themes of family and culture, The Trip Back Home (2000) recalls a childhood journey to visit Wong's grandparents in rural Korea. The narrative follows her family as they plan for the trip—picking out what gifts to bring their relatives—and as they try to adjust to the routines of their grandparents' household—going to the market, feeding the pigs, playing cards, among other activities. Told in the first person, Apple Pie 4th of July (2002) is concerned with what it means to be an American citizen. Set on the Fourth of July in a Chinese restaurant, the Chinese American daughter of the owners tries to persuade her parents that "[n]o one wants Chinese food on the Fourth of July." However, her parents insist on preparing food for the day. After the big holiday parade passes by, crowds of onlookers come into the restaurant, convincing the young girl that "egg rolls are part of America too." The book ends with the family watching the annual fireworks display from their rooftop.

CRITICAL RECEPTION

The favorable critical response to Wong's poetry for young adults has established her a solid reputation among children's librarians and scholars. One of her poems—"Albert J. Bell" from A Suitcase of Seaweed—was selected to appear on posters in the New York subway as part of the city's "Poetry in Motion" program. Many critics have praised the universality of Wong's poetic themes, lauding her portrayal of commonality through diversity. Hazel Rochman has asserted that, "[t]he poems [in A Suitcase of Seaweed] overlap their ethnicity and subject of course, and young people will recognize many of the situations, whether Wong is imagining her parents 'Love at First Sight' or chaffing at their high expectations and their disappointment." Reviewers have also commended Wong for her evocative forays into the genre of picture books. In the review for Buzz, Horn Book Magazine 's critic commented that, "[n]ot every writer can make a smooth transition from one genre to another, especially when there's a vast difference in intended audience, but here an established poet for young adults proves that she is more than able to do so with her first picture book for preschoolers." Apple Pie 4th of July has been praised for its sensitive and emotional examination of a child's understanding of racial and national identities. Alicia Eames has stated that, "[t]his simply told story [Apple Pie 4th of July] explores a child's fears about cultural differences and fitting in with understanding and affection."

AWARDS

Wong has won numerous awards and citations for her work, including the Stone Center Recognition of Merit for Good Luck Gold. A Suitcase of Seaweed received a citation from the New York Public Library as a Book for the Teen Age and was named a Notable Trade Book in the Field of Social Studies from the National Council for the Social Studies and the Children's Book Council in 1996. A Suitcase of Seaweed also received the Stone Center Recognition of Merit from the Claremont Graduate School and was included in the William White Award Master List of 1998 and 1999. The Rainbow Hand was honored with the Lee Bennett Hopkins Award from Pennsylvania State University. In addition to these accolades, Wong is the recipient of several Best Book Awards from the New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, School Library Journal, and Book Links. She has also received the International Reading Association's Celebrate Literacy Award in 1998 for exemplary service in the promotion of literacy and was appointed to two terms on the Commission of Literature by the National Council of Teachers of English.

PRINCIPAL WORKS

Good Luck Gold and Other Poems (poetry) 1994

A Suitcase of Seaweed and Other Poems (poetry) 1996

Behind the Wheel: Poems about Driving (poetry) 1999

The Rainbow Hand: Poems about Mothers and Children (poetry) 1999

Buzz (picture book) 2000

Night Garden: Poems from the World of Dreams (poetry) 2000

The Trip Back Home (picture book) 2000

Grump (picture book) 2001

This Next New Year (picture book) 2001

Apple Pie 4th of July (picture book) 2002

You Have to Write (picture book) 2002

AUTHOR COMMENTARY

Janet S. Wong (essay date 1999)

SOURCE: Wong, Janet S. "Homepage," 1999, <http://www.janetwong.com/poems/index.cfm (15 February 2004).

[In the following essay, Wong talks about how her early memories influence her poetry.]

One of my strongest childhood memories takes me back to holiday dinners at my grandparents' house, where we would sit and drink tea, long after dinner was done, listening to my grandfather tell stories. GongGong loved to tell stories about his boyhood in China, about life on the farms in Northern California during the Depression years, about the escapades of his dog Susie. I grew up hearing these stories over and over, year after year—his and the stories of my grandmother and mother and father, too. Now, when I read the poems I wrote about these stories, I hear their voices again.

I like to sandwich my poems in story, to show how the poems come from my life. Hopefully, when you read my poems, you will be reminded of your own stories: how you baked cookies with your grandmother, your birthday parties, your old friends. So when you share my poems with children, you can sandwich them in your own stories, connect them to your own life, too.

Janet Wong, Junko Yokota, and Stephanie Sanderson (interview date January 2000)

SOURCE: Wong, Janet, Junko Yokota, and Stephanie Sanderson. "Talking with … Janet Wong." Book Links 9, no. 3 (January 2000): 57-61.

[In the following interview, Wong discusses the meaning poetry has for her.]

Janet Wong is the author of five books of poetry for young readers. When she visited schools, universities, and bookstores in the Chicago-area last-spring, Junko Yokota, an associate professor of reading and language arts, and Stephanie Sanderson, a middle-school language arts and humanities teacher, engaged in the following conversation with her, following a writer's workshop with Sanderson's middle-school students at Baker Demonstration School of National-Louis University.

[Sanderson] : How did you decide to become a poet?

[Wong]: Eight years ago I was a lawyer, the director of labor relations at Universal Studios Hollywood. One night I said to my husband, "Glenn, I think I'm becoming a mean person." I decided I wanted to do something good with my life—something of importance. And, decided, I can't think of anything more important than working with kids. So, I tried writing picture books for a year—really simple picture books for the very, very young. At the end of a year I decided I loved it, so I kept doing it.

[Yokota] : Would you tell us what you remember from your childhood experiences that might have influenced your eventual path to writing poetry?

When I was in fourth grade, I decided I hated poetry—that's true—and in no way was I ever going to write a book of poems! In fact, as a child, I never really enjoyed writing at all. I don't remember my creative writing exercises as being fun or interesting, although I'm sure many of them were. When I worked at my writing, it was because I knew I needed to get good grades to make my parents happy, but writing didn't bring me much joy. It was such work!

My attitude toward poetry didn't change until I was an adult. My accidental introduction to Myra Cohn Livingston led me to studying poetry. When I heard Myra speak, I was amazed by what she could do with just eight lines. She could make me blink back tears.

If Myra Cohn Livingston had taught a class in writing the novel, would I be writing novels today? I don't think so. I have a hard time sticking with novels, simply because they are so long. One reason I like to write poems is that I'm lazy. Poems are short and they're very manageable. I can write one quickly, get down what I need to say. Later I'll revise it, and I love to revise. Revision is a very easy thing to do with a poem, especially a short poem. You can tackle a revision in 10 or 20 minutes and put it aside. Two hours later, you can try another revision. I might do 50 versions of a poem in the course of a month's time—10 minutes here, 20 minutes there. That's part of the appeal of poetry to me. It's manageable. Broken up into small bits, it's never boring.

[Sanderson]: Many of my middle-school students are intimidated by reading longer texts.

Some reluctant readers have a hard time reading for various reasons. Perhaps they have short attention spans or their skills are not up to a certain level. But when they look at a poem of mine, a short poem, they see all that white space around it, and it's not intimidating. It doesn't scare them. They look at it and say, "That's only 10 lines. I can read that." One of the first compliments I got on Good Luck Gold was from a woman in the children's literature world who had bought the book for herself. She said her 13-year old granddaughter who hates to read took that book off the shelf and sat in her house and read it from start to finish in an hour and said, "Wow, Grandma, I just read this whole book!" And there was an enormous sense of accomplishment in reading something that wasn't a baby book. Here was a 13-year-old who hated to read, but she was able to do it; she was able to zip through it. This woman told me, "My granddaughter never finishes a book. This is amazing. I guess I'll just have to give her poetry."

[Yokota]: You mentioned that you "accidentally" fell into Myra Cohn Livingston's class. Tell us a little more about this important turning point in your writing career.

I was at a one-day seminar at UCLA Extension on everything you need to know to write and sell your children's book. Because I knew so little about the world of children's literature, I didn't think I needed to know how to write a children's book. I thought all I needed to know was how to sell a manuscript. It was there that I heard Myra speak for the first time. I had no idea who she was, but she stood up and recited poems by other people from memory with such elegance and clarity that I was impressed. I thought, "Wow! This woman really is smart!" And then she read her poem "There Was a Place," which is in the book by the same title. There's a part of that poem that goes something like this:

There was a place we'd always walk
Look at the sky, have a long talk
Sit on a bench, drink a few Cokes
Listen to Dad telling some jokes
Now the sky's dark
Can't see his face
Can't hear the jokes
There was a place.

That last stanza really knocked me over and it made me think of how my grandmother looked when she was in the hospital dying. It made me think of my father and the long trips he used to take. The sheer power of that poem made me think, "Wouldn't it be terrific to be able to write something so small that can affect you in such a great way?" Thank goodness I was at that seminar trying to learn how to sell a book.

[Yokota]: What are examples of personal experiences that you express through poetry?

In writing the poem "Immigrant Boy," I started with the memory of being in college in a French class and having the teacher ask me to help this new Vietnamese girl who had come to the class late in the term. The teacher was constantly asking me to help Lan. Lan and I were not friends; we didn't even sit next to each other. I felt myself thinking, she's asking me to help this girl because we're the only two Asians in the class. I don't even know her. Why is she lumping us together? Lan's French was good enough—better than mine. She didn't need help. I didn't understand what the situation was, and I was very resentful. I treated Lan very poorly because of these feelings. When I sat down to write that poem, I wanted to write it from my own perspective. I wanted to say, "She and I are not the same. Look, I was born here, right?" But then I realized, in writing the poem, how incredibly obnoxious I had been. And it wasn't Lan's fault. I felt so guilty I decided to change the voice in that poem. I even changed the gender of the child. I wrote:

He and I are not the same,
Though we look alike to you.
He was born here. I am new.
just three months ago I came.
I followed him around today.
He does not like me to be near.
I wonder-had I been born here,
would he want me to play?

The process of writing that poem was a wonderful experience for me because it sensitized me to how awfully I had acted toward this girl. The immigrant child is saying, "We're not the same, so don't lump us together because he [the American-born child] doesn't even like me."

In my poem "Speak Up," I created a conversation in which a person says to me, "You're Korean, aren't you?" and I say, "Yeah." I'm then asked, "Well, say something Korean." And I reply, "I don't speak it." (It's true—I can't speak Korean. I wish I could. I can't speak Korean except for little words and phrases that my mother taught me like "Come here," "Eat more.") I end that poem, "I was born here." So here we have this distancing of ourselves—that one Asian was born here, and is different from the Asian who has just come to America.

Yet in another poem about a year and a half later, "Other," from A Suitcase of Seaweed, I'm breaking down that difference. I'm saying, "We're the only two Asians in the room and I notice her and I feel an affinity for her. I feel that we have something in common. Immediately we connect. It doesn't matter that I'm fat; it doesn't matter that she's thin and tall. We connect. I look at her and I see myself as if I'm looking in a mirror." Some people have asked me, "Isn't this inconsistent? How can you be upset that people are lumping you together when you lump yourself with others?" I think the difference is that in one case it's people—other people—looking at us and lumping us together and in the other instance I'm doing it myself. I'm recognizing it. Maybe that doesn't seem like a big difference but it's a question of self-definition versus being defined and limited by others.

[Sanderson]: You grew up in the midst of different cultures. Although you didn't speak Korean during your childhood, you've expressed that you wish you spoke more today. How did your family's cultural differences define your identity and the language that you used growing up?

I grew up speaking English because my mother spoke Korean and a little bit of English (but no Chinese), and my [Chinese American] father spoke English and a little bit of Chinese (but very little Korean). English was the common language. But also, I didn't really want to speak Chinese or Korean, because as a very young child I remember thinking, "I don't like it when people make fun of me for being Asian. Why would I want to be even more Asian?"

My parents didn't teach me Chinese or Korean because they felt that it was "the American way": being born in America, they wanted me to have all possible opportunities, and making me as "American" as I could be would give me more opportunities. The irony of it is that I'd have more opportunities today if I spoke those languages!

How has language defined who I am culturally? If I spoke Korean, undoubtedly I would be more Korean, because the Korean community in most parts of America is very tightly knit, and if you don't speak Korean, you don't fit in.

I remember going with my mother to Korean shops, both as a young child and as a teenager. When she spoke to the Korean shopkeepers, they responded to both of us. I would look at them blankly, and I could tell they were saying something like, "What's the matter with her? Doesn't she speak Korean?" And my mother would apologize profusely in Korean. "Oh, no, no, no. She doesn't speak." And I would hear her explain how I could speak French and German. They would look at me strangely, and I felt embarrassed for my mother. When I was in high school, I remember saying, "Maybe I should just not stand by you. Or, you could pretend that I'm deaf-mute or something." She didn't think that was very funny. I wish I had learned the language, now, because it would allow me to feel more completely linked with a whole other culture.

[Sanderson]: Would you respond to a few of my students' questions about your writing? They ask, "How do you get started, writing poetry, and once you get started, how do you do this figurative language stuff?"

I think you have to begin with reading. That's the way Myra taught me. She used to nag at me, "Read, read, read. You need to read more books." I would reply, "Yes, I'm reading. I'm reading a lot." And she would say, "You need to read even more." At one point, while I was studying with Myra, I would check out 40 books a week from the library and read them quickly, trying to digest as much as I could. I was reading to expose myself to what was out there, hoping to absorb some sense of how people put music in language. In the beginning, I focused on David McCord. I also read John Ciardi, Lilian Moore, Valerie Worth, Arnold Adoff.

[Yokota]: It seems like you're going right down the list of poets who have won the NCTE Excellence in Poetry Award.

By reading a ton of poems, I saw how people could write about the same thing in totally different ways. For example, I might be reading a Gary Soto poem, and, all of a sudden, I will think, "Well, when I do dishes, it's not quite that way. When I do dishes, we stand there afterward and we compare the lines in our hands. Our shriveled-up red hands." Reading a poem, someone else's poem, can take me back to one of my own experiences.

One thing I like to tell kids is—and I try to show this by example—the language doesn't need to be fancy. If I have a choice between a one-syllable word and a four-syllable word I'll often use the one-syllable word. Instead of saying bawl or whimper, I'll use cry. I like the language really plain.

When I do workshops in schools, I focus on metaphor and simile because I think that children are naturally good at writing them. It's something that a child in kindergarten can do and also something that is still interesting to a senior in high school. But I don't want them to come up with unnatural images. I want them to pluck images from their own world.

[Yokota]: Would you describe how you work with students in a writer's workshop?

I want them to work quickly, not to have time to worry about writing. After sharing examples of what I want them to do, I give them one minute to come up with a mental image and a second minute to draw the image. Drawing is a great prewriting tool, especially for reluctant writers. After they've had a chance to come up with an idea, some students will share their ideas. Then, it's time to write. I give students permission to copy other students' ideas, because of the time limits I put on them; besides, when two or more students write on the same idea, they'll almost always come up with totally different poems, and it's good for them to see this. We all write for five minutes. I write with them, so they can see me struggle, too. My teaching style is very direct and rather demanding. I truly expect that they'll come up with good first drafts—at least drafts that are better than they thought they'd be! And the students always come through.

[Sanderson]: What can we look forward to seeing in publication next?

Coming out in October 1999 is Behind the Wheel, a collection of poems about driving. The first poem in that book is called "Ask a Friend." It goes like this:

You don't always need
to go it alone.
Ask a friend
to give you a ride,
to help you out,
to get you home.
When you've found some better times,
you won't forget, you'll pay him back.
Let your friends be good to you.
Go along for the ride,
face in the wind.

I like to think of myself as a very independent person. But one small way in which I think I'm finally growing as a person is that it has become easier for me to say, "I don't have to do everything in the world." I can let others help me, and then I can pay them back.

I'm hoping that students and teachers will realize that they don't have to "go it alone." Perhaps we can relate this concept to poetry and realize that we can use words to reach out to others.

Kathleen Odean (essay date July-August 2003)

SOURCE: Odean, Kathleen. "Unanimous Verdict." Book (July-August 2003): 31.

[In the following essay, Wong comments on her change of career from lawyer to poet.]

Janet S. Wong, who left a four-year law career to write kids' books, does have a regret: "I miss my expense account," she quips. The author of thirteen books, including the new Minn and Jake, Wong practiced just long enough to pay off her student loans before taking time off to write, with the encouragement of her attorney husband. A year and a half later, she had a book accepted. "Twenty-five rejection letters later, I finally clicked," says Wong, who is forty. "And now I'm paid to daydream and write." Is she happier as a writer? "As a lawyer, I felt like I was becoming a mean person," she says. "I wanted to do something important with my life, and I can't think of anything more important than writing books for kids." Case closed.

TITLE COMMENTARY

GOOD LUCK GOLD AND OTHER POEMS (1994)

Hazel Rochman (essay date 15 November 1994)

SOURCE: Rochman, Hazel. Booklist 91, no. 6 (15 November 1994): 600.

Fresh, honest, and not at all reverential, these poems [Good Luck Gold and Other Poems ] are simple dramatic monologues about growing up Asian American. The lines are short and very easy to read; the voices are strongly personal. The ethnicity is strongly individualized, but whether the subject is food, family, or immigration, Wong moves beyond stereotype. This Asian isn't quiet and good at math ("Me. I like to shout"). The pain of being an outsider and the sting of bigotry are both individual and universal ("Ching chong Chinaman / Those kids over there / are laughing at me"). In a scene in a railroad cafe, where no one will serve a Chinese child and her father, she pulls him by the hand to get out of there. "We're not equal. We're better," she says.

Barbara Chatton (essay date January 1995)

SOURCE: Chatton, Barbara. School Library Journal 41, no. 1 (January 1995): 133.

Most of the 42 poems in this collection [Good Luck Gold and Other Poems ] give readers insight into the experiences of Chinese-American children. Starting with the "Good Luck Gold" of charms on a bracelet, they explore feelings about food, language, shopping, the importance of grandparents, and holidays. A number of the selections reflect on serious themes such as racism, the death of loved ones, divorce, and illness, all of which represent universal experiences. A variety of poetic forms are used, including rhymed poetry and free verse, a vivid haiku about a family eating with chopsticks, a dialogue between a Korean-American and another child about being American, and a question-and-answer poem in which a grandmother talks about why she wears jade. Children who live in cities with Chinese-American populations will recognize some of the images described—the ducks hanging in grocery-store windows, dim sum stands, parades with firecrackers and dragons. For others, these pieces provide an introduction to the sights and sounds of Chinese-American neighborhoods.

Sylvia M. Vardell, Nancy L. Hadaway, and Terrell A. Young (essay date April-May 2002)

SOURCE: Vardell, Sylvia M., Nancy L. Hadaway, and Terrell A. Young. Book Links 11, no. 5 (April-May 2002): 53.

Wong takes the experiences that came with growing up Korean, Chinese, and American and fuses them in her poetry for children [Good Luck Gold and Other Poems ]. She captures moments with her Asian grandfather or with English-speaking classmates with powerful feeling and simple language, such as in the poem "Speak Up."

A SUITCASE OF SEAWEED AND OTHER POEMS (1996)

Hazel Rochman (essay date 1 April 1996)

SOURCE: Rochman, Hazel. Booklist 92, no. 15 (1 April 1996): 1362.

As she did in Good Luck Gold (1994), Wong writes in simple, casual free verse about herself [A Suitcase of Seaweed and Other Poems ]. This time she has divided the small collection into three parts: Korean, Chinese, and American poems. At the start of each section is a page of autobiography as interesting as the poems. Her Korean mother met and married Wong's father when he was in Korea with the U.S. Army. He is Chinese but came to this country when he was 12. Wong was born here. Some of the poems are flat, but the best of them show a mix of feelings. Koreatown is growing, spreading—and "splitting." Korean women, furious with their families, come to the beauty salon to change their "stubborn, straight, heavy hair" and get themselves a perm. The poems overlap their ethnicity and subject, of course, and young people will recognize many of the situations, whether Wong is imagining her parents' "Love at First Sight" or chafing at their high expectations and their disappointment.

Nancy Vasilakis (essay date July-August 1996)

SOURCE: Vasilakis, Nancy. Horn Book Magazine 72, no. 4 (July-August 1996): 475-476.

Wong's mother is Korean, her father is Chinese, and she herself has grown up in this country, as she explains in the brief biographical essays that preface this collection's [A Suitcase of Seaweed and Other Poems ] three sections: "Korean Poems," "Chinese Poems," and "American Poems." The quiet, lyric poems acknowledge proudly, subtly, and with occasional touches of irony and humor the distinct strands within the weave of cultures of which she is a part. Her mother is the commanding figure of the Korean poems, first introduced as a laughing village girl meeting the man she will marry, then shown praying, styling hair, and toasting marshmallows—or perhaps grasshoppers!—around a campfire. In the other two sections the author reveals more of her inner self at epiphanous moments: while pouring tea for her grandfather "like an offering to the gods," for example, or upon recognizing another Asian face in a room full of strangers. A few of the poems are set in rhymes, but the best of them are written in free verse that is wistful, revealing, and direct: "Our family / is a quilt / of odd remnants / patched together / in a strange / pattern, / threads fraying, / fabric wearing thin—/ but made to keep / its warmth / even in bitter / cold."

Sharon Korbeck (essay September 1996)

SOURCE: Korbeck, Sharon. School Library Journal 42, no. 9 (September 1996): 237.

Wong was born in America of Chinese and Korean heritage, but the basic subjects she addresses [A Suitcase of Seaweed and Other Poems ] in neat stanzas of free verse aim at the heart of any family, any race. The quiet, touching poems are divided into three sections, each honoring another part of her ethnicity. The Korean section deals with such diverse topics as hospitality, acupuncture, or the spicy kimchi that was a frequent dinner food. The author learned about Chinese culture from her father's parents, whose presence plays a large role in these poems of family. As an American, Wong writes poems of realization and identity. Whether the words are about customs or careers, they provide a sense of who the author has become because of her pride in her bloodlines. People may ask Asian-Americans "Where are you from?" This collection, appropriate for YAs of any culture, may make this question less relevant and important as they realize the commonalties among cultures.

BEHIND THE WHEEL: POEMS ABOUT DRIVING (1999)

Roger Sutton (essay date November 1999)

SOURCE: Sutton, Roger. Horn Book Magazine 75, no. 6 (November 1999): 755.

It's difficult to believe that the theme of driving offers much range for a single-author poetry collection, particularly when, as here [Behind the Wheel: Poems about Driving ], the mood is predominately reflective and the flashes of humor, gentle. But despite the occasional patch of fog, the mostly free verse is conversational and unfussy, as when the poet compares herself to her trusty Honda: "You don't have to pamper me. / Don't have to worry / someone will steal me away." The timeworn idea that "driving is like life" is simply a given here, and Wong relies on telling particulars rather than heavy universals, as in a poem about family: "Sometimes you wonder if they care. / But when you mess up—WOOMPH!—/ they're there, like air bags, / in your face." Several of the poems feature the poet's grandmother; one of the best in the collection, "Neighbors," compares the tight-knit quality of Grandmother's village to the isolation of the speaker's contemporary suburb, where "the good quiet neighbors … follow us home/down our hill. / Their headlights/throw shadows, / our big empty heads / bobbing on the dash."

Sharon Korbeck (essay date December 1999)

SOURCE: Korbeck, Sharon. School Library Journal 45, no. 12 (December 1999): 162.

Wong presents driving as a metaphor for life [Behind the Wheel: Poems about Driving ]. She makes the rather obvious analogy in the poem "Behind the Wheel" : "Everything you need to know / you learn right here / behind the wheel. / Watch out for the other guy. / Keep your eye on your rear. / Thank the old lady who lets you in. / Don't steal someone else's spot. / When you rush to park and end up hopeless, crooked—/ just start over." Many of the poems are simply memories of driving-related events, e.g., taking grandma to the store, a first hitchhiking attempt, and dreaming of luxury cars at the auto show. These glimpses are a bit distant, not really enticing readers to slip inside the memories. The metaphors continue throughout the book, often becoming tiresome. In "Restraint," parents are compared first to seat belts, and then to airbags: "…when you mess up—WOOOMPH!—/ they're there, like air bags,/in your face." There is the obligatory, somewhat preachy poem about drunk driving, a little too light to have much impact. Not entirely convincing, these poems don't succeed as extended views of life.

Gillian Engberg (essay date 1 January 2000)

SOURCE: Engberg, Gillian. Booklist (1 January 2000):913.

"Forget kindergarten, / sharing. / Everything you need to know / you learn right here / behind the wheel." As in her previous poetry collections, Wong uses simple, personal free verse to explore the spaces between family and self, this time through distilled moments in the car and on the road [Behind the Wheel: Poems about Driving ]. In one poem, a grandchild connects a car crash with the financial crash that took her grandmother's savings; in another, a daughter criticizes her father for picking up a hitchhiker and, in her sullenness, realizes she looks "not at all like my father's daughter" The poems are mostly intimate, first-person monologues, but there are some narrated vignettes and very funny radical suggestions for reshaping the rules of the road (in "Insurance for Teenage Drivers: A New Plan," the speaker suggests that, as punishment for violations, young offenders should: "Direct traffic, / head shaved bald … flanked by parents / dressed in pajamas"). Wong's brief, clear lines will be accessible even to the most reluctant poetry readers, and readers of all ages will be moved by the intersection of poignancy and humor as she describes the thrilling freedom of the car and an emerging adult's awareness that, although she's traveled, her road still leads to home.

THE RAINBOW HAND: POEMS ABOUT MOTHERS AND CHILDREN (1999)

Sharon Korbeck (essay date April 1999)

SOURCE: Korbeck, Sharon. School Library Journal 45, no. 4 (April 1999): 128.

Like the presence of a mother's hand, Wong's thoughtful and reflective volume [The Rainbow Hand: Poems about Mothers and Children ] is comforting and easily accessible. The poems are solid and steady reminders of the connections between mothers and children. In the brief lines, which are boldly paired with [Jennifer] Hewitson's striking and colorful scratchboard illustrations, children see only glimpses of life, but meaningful ones. A daughter notices, and loves, her mother's white hairs that "…grow back like daisies / poking through dark mulch." A mother cradles her child with "…her fingers curved / like a rainbow." In "Mother's Day" a boy gives his mother a hastily wrapped rock as a gift, and the caring woman immediately finds a purpose for it. Upon hearing her mother say, "When I was ten …, " a girl wonders, "When she was ten, could she have been / such an amazing freak?" Universal love, discipline, strength, and emotion are all in evidence here.

GraceAnne A. DeCandido (essay date 1 April 1999)

SOURCE: DeCandido, GraceAnne A. Booklist 95, no. 15 (1 April 1999): 1412.

These 18 short poems [The Rainbow Hand: Poems about Mothers and Children ] are limpid reflections on mother and child, some from the mother's point of view, some from the child's. All of them hold a kernel of truth that readers of all ages will recognize. A child walking "In Mother's Shadow" delights that she stops to rest "the very moment / my shoes grow / heavy." In another, a child compares plucking her mother's white hairs at her mother's request to plucking daisies. A tiny poem compares mother to an onion: golden good for you, sometimes surprising in sweetness, or making you cry. A mother breathing slowly in sync with her infant or shielding her baby's eyes with "fingers curved / like a rainbow" are poems lovely in their simplicity. Jennifer Hewitson's illustrations are both sweet and powerful-strong scratchboard lines with pastel washes that make arresting images. The mother and child in "Smother Love" are a sculptural single shape; in the "Rainbow Hand" image, the lines of the mother's and baby's faces and the curves of the mother's hands echo the rhythm of the poem. Children from tots to teens, and beyond, will find their own tangled feelings here.

Publishers Weekly (review date 3 May 1999)

SOURCE: Publishers Weekly 246, no. 18 (3 May 1999): 78.

Janet S. Wong draws from her experiences as both child and mother in The Rainbow Hand: Poems about Mothers and Children, illus. by Jennifer Hewitson with boldly graphic color scratchboard renderings. Whether or not the poems allude to her Chinese-and Korean-American heritage, their focus on the ambivalence and tension found in the most fiercely loving relationships extend the perspective to the universal.

Horn Book Guide (review date fall 1999)

SOURCE: Horn Book Guide 10, no. 2 (fall 1999): 376.

Eighteen free verse poems about mothers and the experience of motherhood [The Rainbow Hand: Poems about Mothers and Children ] are told from the perspectives of both parent and child. The author's mother inspired the poems, but they transcend any particular relationship to become an honest portrayal of mother/child universalities. Stylized scratchboard and watercolor illustrations complement the poems.

BUZZ (2000)

Carol Ann Wilson (essay date May 2000)

SOURCE: Wilson, Carol Ann. School Library Journal 46, no. 5 (May 2000): 158-59.

Buzz is the sound of a bee outside a little boy's window as he awakens one morning. It's also the sound of his parents alarm clock, his father's shaver, the blender whirring his banana shake, and myriad other activities that culminate in the doorbell's "Buzz" that announces his Grandma's arrival and Mommy's swift departure "so she can fly BUZZ outside like a busy bee." From the black-and-gold striped endpapers to the bold typeface of the oft-repeated sound, and right down to the mother's bee-striped socks, the concept underlying this book will be apparent to even the youngest listeners. The comfort that is derived from the familiar and routine is reflected in the retro-looking illustrations (created with a variety of print-making techniques) that have the flat, bold quality of graphic art. While the text is simple and straightforward, it drives the story along and occasionally offers moments of whimsy and lyricism. The lifestyle portrayed here is decidedly middle class, with its coffee grinders, gardeners, and automatic garage doors, but this child savors the morning's events in a way that is universally appealing. Storytime audiences will "buzz" right on cue with this charming vignette of one family's bustling a.m. schedule.

Horn Book Magazine (review date May-June 2000)

SOURCE: Horn Book Magazine 76, no. 3 (May-June 2000): 304-05.

Not every writer can make a smooth transition from one genre to another, especially when there's a vast difference in intended audience, but here [Buzz ] an established poet for young adults proves that she is more than able to do so with her first picture book for preschoolers. Wong's poetic vision serves her well in this story of early-morning family rituals written from the point of view of a young child. Everyone, it seems, is in a hurry to get somewhere—all except the narrator, who opens the story by leisurely observing a bumblebee buzzing around the garden outside his bedroom window. Next it's his parents' alarm clock buzzing, then his father's razor buzzing, and then the kitchen blender buzzing as he and his mother make a banana shake for breakfast. The boy gets into the spirit of things by buzzing his toy airplane around the breakfast table. Wong has selected just the right onomatopoeic word to reflect the mechanics of a busy morning. She artfully brings the conclusion back to the original image of the bumblebee when the mother rushes out for work "like a busy bee"—in black-and-yellow-striped socks. Beginning with a window-screen background on the book jacket and black-and-yellow-striped endpapers, Chodos-Irvine effectively uses pattern and color in a flattened perspective to balance the sounds and sights of the child's morning. While her bold style suggests picture books of an earlier era, it works remarkably well for this obviously modern family that includes an Asian mother and a white father living life in the fast lane.

Publishers Weekly (review date 5 June 2000)

SOURCE: Publishers Weekly 247, no. 23 (5 June 2000): 92.

Wong turns from the nearly surreal, hypnotic world of Night Garden to this wide-eyed, cheerful tale [Buzz ] offering a boy's view of a busy weekday morning. From the opening spreads, an industrious bee acts as the guiding spirit and its buzz as the leitmotif: the boy translates its hum to the "BUZZZbuzzzBUZZZbuzz" of his parents' snores, an alarm clock, a coffee grinder, a doorbell and his toy airplane's ill-fated flight over the breakfast table; bold type emphasizes the onomatopoeia. It's a hectic household, but Wong's story emphasizes the boy's reassuring routine in her insistent staccato prose: "BUZZZ I run to the front door when Grandma comes and I kiss Grandma hello and I kiss Mommy goodbye so she can fly BUZZ outside like a busy bee." In her first children's book, [Margaret] Chodos-Irvine combines the appealing blocky shapes of cut-paper collage with the delicacy of woodcuts on backgrounds such as the parents' clothing and the wallpaper. She knowingly shows a boy managing his world, whether it is in the image of his small body's outsize shadow filling the door of his parents' bedroom as he shouts "Wake up!" or the boy aping his father as he shaves (using a toy car as his razor). This joyful book will strike a resonant chord—especially for the many children with two working parents.

Kathy Broderick (review date July 2000)

SOURCE: Broderick, Kathy. Booklist 96, no. 21 (July 2000): 2044-045.

A young child relates [Buzz ] the simple morning events that happen in his house, all of which seem to make a buzz. There's the bee outside, the alarm clock. Daddy's electric razor, the neighbor's lawn mower, the blender, the garage door, the coffee grinder, the clothes dryer, Mommy's blow dryer, and finally the doorbell. Then Mom flies out the door, buzzing like a busy bee. [Margaret] Chodos-Irvine uses various print-making techniques, including one that produces a collage effect, to make her fine, rerrolooking illustrations come alive. The writing flows, the pages turn naturally and easily in a good rhythm, and there is great movement on each double-page spread. Beginning and ending the book with a bee is a nice touch. A great sensory experience for very young children.

Janice M. Del Negro (review date July-August 2000)

SOURCE: Del Negro, Janice M. Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books 53, no. 11 (July-August 2000): 420.

A little boy comments on the busy morning [Buzz ] minutes when he and his parents are getting ready for their day. The boy is the first one awake, and he notes that outside his window "a bee eats breakfast in a big red flower," while his parents' alarm clock ("BUZZZbuzzzBUZZZbuzzz Mommy and Daddy snore") announces that it's morning. From the buzzing of "Daddy's silver razor" to the buzzing of the gardener, who "mows grass across the street," to the buzz of the blender as it whips up a banana shake, the little boy contentedly organizes his day around familiar morning sounds. The end circles back to the beginning as the boy kisses Grandma hello and Mommy goodbye "so she can fly BUZZ outside like a busy bee." [Margaret] Chodos-Irvine's use of various print-making techniques results in illustrations that are strongly geometric and graphically clean, in springtime colors that suit the cheerful tone of the text. The humor in both text and pictures contributes to the light-hearted atmosphere, and the gentle predictability of the chronology of events is reassuring. Participatory buzzing is optional.

NIGHT GARDEN: POEMS FROM THE WORLD OF DREAMS (2000)

Kirkus Reviews (review date 15 December 1999)

SOURCE: Kirkus Reviews 67, no. 24 (15 December 1999): 1966.

From Wong (The Rainbow Hand ), a collection of 15 soulful poems [Night Garden: Poems from the World of Dreams ] that commands attention and keeps until the end, with a canny, singular take on the familiar imagery of dreamtime.

These are episodes of remembrance and genesis, falling and flying, of speaking an unknown language with facility, of the bite of an inexorable nightmare. Short and vivid, the poems urge readers to "pull / at the air around you / when you wake, / pull and gulp it down" to keep alive the presence of the departed who have just visited the dreamer. Wong can be skip-quick to suggest evanescence, or her words can flutter with fear; she can be exquisitely funny, as when a sibling eavesdrops on a sister who is talking and laughing in her sleep—about the eavesdropper. [Julie] Paschkis is equal to the task of illustrating these poems, with two-page spreads presented as mirror-image two-toned diptychs, bursting with glyphs and portents across dream-crazed backgrounds, with the text scrolling across one page and the full-color image undulating from the other.

GraceAnne A. DeCandido (review date 1-15 January 2000)

SOURCE: DeCandido, GraceAnne A. Booklist 96, no. 9-10 (1-15 January 2000): 920.

This collection of 15 poems [Night Garden: Poems from the World of Dreams ] takes on the distorted and sometimes dark world of dreams. Wong, an accomplished and versatile poet, finds dream images that children will know: dreaming about flight ("Flying" ) or being afraid of things on TV ("Nightmare" ), Sometimes, friends who have almost been forgotten appear ("Old Friend" ). The illustrations are magnificent: gouaches that are equal parts William Morris pattern and Magritte/Bosch surrealism. Each poem faces an illustration by Julie Paschkis on the opposite page; both poem and picture are placed on a double-page spread of wild pattern echoing the images of the poem.

Barbara Chatton (review date March 2000)

SOURCE: Chatton, Barbara. School Library Journal 46, no. 3 (March 2000): 232.

In the title poem [Night Garden: Poems from the World of Dreams ], Wong compares the bed in which dreams happen with the tangled roots and blooms of a garden bed. The 14 poems that follow are about the people who appear in dreams, eating, swimming, flying, running, and falling. The poems use sound qualities—repetition, alliteration, and occasional rhyme—to capture each dream. Even poems about nightmares and anxieties are couched in gentle language that evokes wonder and thoughtfulness rather than fear. Paschkis's paintings highlight the gardening metaphor. The selections are set against background frames of earth-toned colors, filled with animals, humans, and plants reminiscent of the organic creatures of Hieronymus Bosch. The frames are symmetrically balanced to enclose a small painting on the left-hand page and a similarly shaped space for the poem on the right. Pictures of children of many cultural backgrounds add to the universal quality of the book, as does the last poem, "There Is a Place," which suggests that a storyteller lies inside each of us and comes out as we sleep. Children will enjoy capturing their own dreams and giving them shape and meaning after they have experienced these poems. This is a particularly fine collection for libraries in which young writers and painters are encouraged.

Publishers Weekly (review date 13 March 2000)

SOURCE: Publishers Weekly 247, no. 11 (13 March 2000): 84.

In this absorbing volume [Night Garden: Poems from the World of Dreams ], Wong (A Suitcase of Seaweed and Other Poems ) and [Julie] Paschkis (Play All Day) examine the familiar yet surprising qualities of dreams. The poems recall a weightless feeling of flying, an anxious sense of being late or an unexpected visit from a dead or living acquaintance ("I had forgotten you, friend. / Is that why you came / into my dream?"). "Gently Down the Stream" alludes to the phrase "life is but a dream" and describes swimming in clear water; the accompanying illustration pictures a sinuous orange-and-turquoise fish with a peaceful human face. Wong seldom abides scary dreams, but she does include "a news-at-seven true nightmare," which Paschkis supplements with beastly imagery of snakes and howling sleepers. Paschkis's gouaches at times suggest an illuminated manuscript, elements from medieval tapestries or elaborate Arts and Crafts-era wallpaper. The artist responds to each poem with a multicolor image framed within a monochromatic, repetitive motif. She creates a host of weird creatures, from a hunched man in a long-nosed white mask to a turnip-headed being with pea-pod arms; to indicate the mysterious workings of the imagination, she shows strange flowers sprouting from a restful figure. Paschkis's swirling imagery and Wong's quiet yet haunting words skillfully simulate the reveries they recount.

Cyndi Giorgis and Nancy J. Johnson (review date March 2001)

SOURCE: Giorgis, Cyndi, and Nancy J. Johnson. The Reading Teacher 54, no. 6 (March 2001): 633-34.

Janet Wong's mode of expression is enchanting poetry. Night Garden: Poems from the World of Dreams takes readers from the depths of the earth with dreams waiting to bloom, to the heights of soaring birds flying free. It tells tales of fears in the night that are offset by dreams of "soft and fuzzy things." The 14 poems are illustrated by Julie Paschkis, who brings a mystical quality to the verse with her surreal characters and monochromatic, repetitive motif found on each double-page spread. The dream poems illustrate the power of imagination—even when asleep.

Kathleen Armstrong, Mingshui Cai, Cyndi Giorgis, and Kathryn Mitchell Pierce (review date March 2002)

SOURCE: Armstrong, Kathleen, Minshui Cai, Cyndi Giorgis, and Kathryn Mitchell Pierce. Language Arts 79, no. 4 (March 2002): 352.

Dreams sprout and grow wild like dandelion weeds in the night garden of a girl's mind [Night Garden: Poems from the World of Dreams ]. In her blooming dreams she sees the face she wears inside, savors her favorite turnip cake, swims gently down a stream like a fish, or runs away from scary scenes on TV. Her subconscious is like a museum housing thousands of paintings "seen nowhere else in the world" or a library "filled with brand new books" to tell stories only she could know. With phantasmagorical images and freely flowing rhythms, this night garden of dreamy poetry invites readers to take a walk through intricate paths and be mesmerized by its visions. The surrealistic touches of gouache illustrations create a mysterious ambient and add another fascinating dimension.

THE TRIP BACK HOME (2000)

Ellen Mandel (essay date 15 November 2000)

SOURCE: Mandel, Ellen. Booklist 97, no. 6 (15 November 2000): 651.

Recalling her childhood trip to rural Korea with her mother to visit her grandparents and aunt, [The Trip Back Home ] Wong measures her words to reflect the simple pleasures of the reunion. The pages reveal the farmers' way of life: Grandfather makes the charcoal that heats the house through tunnels under the floor; Grandmother markets in outdoor stalls and cooks in a stove lit with pine branches. The foods and their preparation, including persimmons stored on the roof, are described, as are the leisure-time activities—telling stories, playing cards, reading. There's no hustling to tourist attractions, just time together, paced to the daily rhythms of the family from whom the author has been separated. The gifts given on leave-taking are all the more meaningful for the memories they trigger of the cherished visit—a charcoal drawing of the neighboring hills, a necklace of dried persimmons, and an original poem written in Korean. This tender story of family love is expressively pictured in bright watercolors: jewel-tone clothing, colorful vegetables, and homey objects sparkle against the grays of the hills and the browns of the fields and the house. Bridging cultural and generational gaps, this beautiful, lyrically written picture book has much to say to children, no matter their nationality.

Wendy Lukehart (review date December 2000)

SOURCE: Lukehart, Wendy. School Library Journal 46, no. 12 (December 2000): 128.

A gentle celebration of family bonds [The Trip Back Home ]. Drawing on her own visit to her mother's homeland, Wong relates the excursion of a young American girl and her parent to stay with relatives in Korea. The travelers first carefully select gifts for their hosts: leather work gloves for grandfather, a pretty apron for grandmother, and an alphabet book for the child's aunt. In return, "they gave us hugs." The child participates in daily routines such as heating the house with charcoal placed in a floor tunnel, feeding the pigs, going to the outdoor market and playing cards-all in a warm, familial setting. Author and illustrator harmonize well, painting the patterns and flavors of rural life [Bo]. Jia's brown-and-gray watercolor backgrounds are punctuated by spots of bright color in the clothing, rows of vegetables, and in a few special treasures. In a bittersweet, circular closing, gifts are given to the travelers, and "we gave them hugs."

Judy O'Malley (review date December 2000-January 2001)

SOURCE: O'Malley, Judy. Book Links 10, no. 3 (December 2000-January 2001): 24.

Poetic text [The Trip Back Home ] describes a young girl's journey with her mother to Korea, where her mother was born and raised. The pair's greeting by the family, and the day-to-day rhythms of life in a rural village, to which the young girl quickly becomes acclimated, offer many details about the culture, but the information is intrinsic to the family story, never seeming tacked on or intrusive. The art and text also weave together seamlessly, sharing a gentle, soft focus.

Horn Book Guide (review date spring 2001)

SOURCE: Horn Book Guide 12, no. 1 (spring 2001): 54.

Simple and poetic, this [The Trip Back Home ] unadorned story of a young girl's trip to Korea to visit her relatives has an appealing circular structure in which gifts and hugs are exchanged at the beginning and end of the visit. The rural household is very traditional, with no hint of contemporary life. Based on Wong's own experience, the themes of family love and nonverbal communication are lovingly portrayed in the text and the quiet watercolors.

GRUMP (2001)

Kirkus Reviews (review date 1 January 2001)

SOURCE: Kirkus Reviews 69, no. 1 (1 January 2001): 60.

A weary mom and her tireless tot are the subject of Wong's (This Next New Year, 2000) humorous and poignant tale [Grump ]. The scenario is familiar: a mom, tired and slightly crabby, eagerly awaits baby's naptime. However, her energetic infant has other ideas. Lunch becomes a science experiment as baby mixes this and that, eventually deciding to wear the concoction rather than eat it. After an exasperated Mom cleans up, she marches baby upstairs for a nap. Naturally, just as mother reaches the nursery door, baby awakens. The conclusion is predictable—at least for sleep-deprived parents—and the mother falls asleep reading baby a story while baby remains cheerfully awake … until snuggling up on her lap for a comfy snooze. Wong hits upon a universal truth of motherhood: as mom's energy wanes, baby's waxes accordingly. Her short, gently repetitive verses neatly capture the swinging moods between infant and parent. Although young children are unlikely to catch the wry humor, beleaguered mommies may appreciate the jests. Wong's imagery has high giggle appeal for gleeful tots, making the poetry accessible for the littlest listener: "Mommy's stomping / Jumping, chomping / Long arms dragging like a chimp." Wallace's watercolors adroitly capture the nuances of the story, depicting both the increasingly frenzied dismay of mom as well as the sweeter, more sentimental moments. An enjoyable romp for little ones and a compassionate reassurance for their exhausted parents.

Diane Roback, Jennifer M. Brown, and Jason Britton (review date 1 January 2001)

SOURCE: Roback, Diane, Jennifer M. Brown, and Jason Britton. Publishers Weekly 248, no. 1 (1 January 2001): 91.

Mommy has reached the end of her rope [Grump ]. She's "tired and frumpy / Grouchy chumpy / Oh, what a grump!" But Baby, of course, is just getting started, happily "making gravy / Applesauce and ketchup gravy" and dumping it on his head and the floor. Exhausted Mommy declares naptime—but Baby won't cooperate, at least not until Mommy herself drops off to sleep while reading Baby a book. This slice-of-life book should strike a chord with frazzled mothers of toddlers, especially the implacable expression of [John] Wallace's (Tiny Rabbit) Baby and Wong's (Night Garden ) repetition of the line "Baby's going to take a nap now" three times in a row, as if saying it would only make it so. Toddlers may be too wrapped up in themselves to be charmed by the parental sense of irony that informs the book, but Wallace's delicate watercolor vignettes with their sunny translucency keep the mood upbeat.

Elaine A. Bearden (review date February 2001)

SOURCE: Bearden, Elaine A. Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books 54, no. 6 (February 2001): 241-42.

Wong focuses on a mother's long day [Grump ] : "Look how tired this Mommy is / Tired and frumpy / Grouchy chumpy / Oh, what a grump!" "Smart, good Baby" may be happy, but he makes messes with abandon and then refuses to go to sleep: "Baby's eyes are getting heavy / Heavy sleepy baby eyes / Mommy starts to tiptoes out—/ And oh of course that baby cries … Play with me !" Wong's minimal text (in tasteful baby blue) neatly accents [John] Wallace's sparse line and watercolor illustrations, both floating on a sea of white space in an attractive layout. Unfortunately, the expressions often don't synchronize with the text, and there's frequent visual repetition, dulling the impact of the art. Families will be familiar with this scenario, but since Wong writes for knowing adults, it is doubtful most toddlers will last past the first pages.

Hazel Rochman (review date 15 February 2001)

SOURCE: Rochman, Hazel. Booklist 97, no. 12 (15 February 2001): 1142.

New mothers will appreciate this [Grump ] as much as their babies. Wong's very simple bouncing rhyme starts off far from the usual soothing lullaby. This mom is frazzled, "Tired and frumpy / Grouchy chumpy." Wallace's clear watercolor scenarios with lots of white space show Baby dumping his applesauce and gravy and making the mess that sees Mommy stomping, jumping, chomping as she cleans up all day. Then it's naptime and loving Mom reads to her baby, but it's not Baby who falls asleep. Both the situation and the words with their rhythmic bumps and gentle grumps are just right for lapsit sharing.

Joy Fleishhacker (review date March 2001)

SOURCE: Fleishhacker, Joy. School Library Journal 47, no. 3 (March 2001): 224.

A poetic yet accessible text [Grump ] blends with appealing watercolor paintings to tell the tale of a bright-eyed baby and his exhausted parent. Poor Mommy is "Tired and frumpy / Grouchy chumpy / Oh, what a grump!" Baby, however, is busy "Making gravy / Applesauce and ketchup gravy" and then dumping it over his head. As his disgruntled mother scrubs the floor on hands and knees ("Sponging all the spots away / Wash and wash and wash / All day"), the child rides on her back and smiles. Finally, it's time for Baby's nap, but just as the mother is about to tiptoe out of the room, he starts to cry. The two sit together in a chair to share some stories, and before long, Mom is fast asleep. Quietly, the youngster settles more comfortably in her lap and closes his eyes. Filled with rhythm, repetition, and simple word-play, Wong's language is inviting and fun to read aloud. The illustrations consist of a series of vignettes that depict the interaction between mother and son set against plain white backgrounds. The bright colors and clean lines will capture the attention of young listeners.

Horn Book Guide (review date fall 2001)

SOURCE: Horn Book Guide 12, no. 2 (fall 2001): 244.

Tired and slightly grumpy Mommy tries to put her baby down for a nap and soon is asleep herself [Grump ]. The rhythmic, alliterative text tells the gentle tale in a way that will captivate even a wide-awake toddler. Soft ink and wash illustrations capture Mommy's harried state and the sleepy bliss that she and her baby finally find together.

THIS NEXT NEW YEAR (2001)

Elizabeth Bush (review date September 2000)

SOURCE: Bush, Elizabeth. Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books 54, no. 1 (September 2000): 42.

A young boy catalogs his preparations for Chinese New Year [This Next New Year ], a holiday that his family enthusiastically celebrates even though, as he explains, he is "half Korean." While his friend Glenn (French and German) marks the day with Thai food, and Evelyn (Hopi and Mexican) looks forward to "red envelopes stuffed with money from her neighbor who came from Singapore," the narrator focuses on all the rituals that will ensure good fortune in the coming year. He observes that his palms are itching (a sure sign that money's coming), helps his mother scrub the house "rough and raw so it can soak up good luck like an empty sponge," and even cleans the dirt out "from the corners of my big toenails so the luck can squeeze itself in here." Unfortunately, Choi's paintings aren't quite up to the standard set by the ebullient text; figures are stiff and doll-like, and her overuse of shortened foreground makes the scenes repetitively flat. Nonetheless, the narrator's joyous obsessions offer a delightful contrast to more staid primary-grade explanations of Chinese New Year, and listeners will chuckle at his ambitious list of good intentions that, like their own, is unlikely to last until the next new moon.

Kirkus Reviews (review date 1 September 2000)

SOURCE: Kirkus Reviews 68, no. 17 (1 September 2000): 1294.

The lunar new year doesn't begin on the first of January; it begins on the day of the first new moon [This Next New Year ]. This celebration is commonly called the Chinese New Year but it is one celebrated by many cultures. A young boy (who is "half Korean") explains in a simple way his own family's traditions, which include a big bowl of duk gook, the Korean new-year soup, and then he tells about his friends. There's Glenn, "who is French and German" and "who celebrates … by eating Thai food to go." His other best friend Evelyn, "part Hopi and part Mexican," receives red envelopes "stuffed with money from her neighbor who came from Singapore." Going through his preparations, he literally cleans up the house, his clothes, and his own body, getting rid of all the bad luck to make room for the good. Wong's (Night Garden, 1999) poetic voice creates art from the ordinary: "A river of leaves from the plant that died even thought I meant to water it soon—gone." A new year vow becomes, "I will not say one awful thing, none of that, can't do, don't have, why me, because this is it, a fresh start, my second chance." [Yangsook] Choi's (Nim and the War Effort, 1996) lively, two-page spreads in bright colors, perfectly complement the energetic text, adding visual reinforcement to the scenes described by the narrator.

Gillian Engberg (review date 15 September 2000)

SOURCE: Engberg, Gillian. Booklist 97, no. 2 (15 September 2000): 251.

A young boy prepares for Chinese New Year [This Next New Year ] with rituals and wide hopes, in this illustrated, free verse poem. The narrator, who is half Korean, describes how he and his friends, like so many people in a multicultural society, celebrate the holiday with a modern blend of adopted and inherited traditions: the boy's mother makes traditional Korean new year soup; Evelyn, part Hopi and Mexican, loves the money-stuffed red envelopes from her Singaporean neighbor; and Glenn, part French and German, "calls it Chinese New Year, too, even though he celebrates it at his house by eating Thai food to go." At home, the boy cleans the house, "so it can soak up good luck like an empty sponge," grooms himself, and pledges to be brave and positive—"none of that can't do, don't have, why me." [Yangsook] Choi's smooth, brightly colored paintings-filled with firecrackers, dragons, and other cultural symbols ably illustrate the optimistic activity and the yearning in the accessible, rhythmic text. Children of diverse backgrounds will connect with the boy's earnest desire to help change the family's luck and realize his own potential.

Anne Connor (review date October 2000)

SOURCE: Connor, Anne. School Library Journal 46, no. 10 (October 2000): 142-43.

A Chinese-Korean boy relates [This Next New Year ] how he and his friends celebrate the "lunar new year, the day of the first new moon." One child celebrates the holiday with "Thai food to go," while a non-Asian child likes to get "…red envelopes stuffed with money from her neighbor who came from Singapore" The narrator's mother cooks a special Korean soup, and his family observes the traditions of house cleaning, lighting firecrackers, and being extra good to ensure a lucky new year. Wong carefully and clearly presents the reasons behind the rituals in a manner understandable to young children. She explains in an appended note about her own confusion as a child about the timing and meaning of the holiday. [Yangsook] Choi's vibrant, somewhat primitive paintings realistically capture the details of and preparations for this hopeful time of year. Youngsters will enjoy the bright colors and the sense of motion and activity conveyed as the boy helps his mother clean, flosses his teeth, and cringes from the noise of the firecrackers. A good choice for anyone getting ready to celebrate Chinese New Year.

Horn Book Magazine (review date November-December 2000)

SOURCE: Horn Book Magazine 76, no. 6 (November-December 2000): 751.

In a spare, lyrical narrative a Chinese-Korean boy reflects on what the lunar new year [This Next New Year ], otherwise known as Chinese New Year, means to him. He and his family have had their share of trouble ("our luck is long overdue"), but by sweeping last year's dust, mistakes, and bad luck out of the house, he hopes to make room for good luck and "a fresh start, my second chance." The concepts of renewal, starting over, and luck, which inform many of the rituals, will resonate with young readers, and the narrator's personal impression of the celebration makes this a refreshing departure from the standard nonfiction holiday-introduction fare. Though the boy mentions a few of his family's customs ("my mother cooks duk gook, the Korean new year soup") and the things his non-Asian friends do to acknowledge the new lunar year, this is primarily an imaginative appreciation of the emotional associations of the holiday. Choi's festive, richly colored but somewhat flat illustrations enhance the text's poetic language with unexpected, fanciful touches. An author's note provides additional facts about the lunar year and about some of the symbols associated with Wong's own half-Chinese, half-Korean family's new year traditions.

APPLE PIE 4TH OF JULY (2002)

Diane Roback, Jennifer M. Brown, and Jason Britton (review date 8 April 2002)

SOURCE: Roback, Diane, Jennifer M. Brown, and Jason Britton. Publishers Weekly 249, no. 14 (8 April 2002): 226.

The author and artist teamed for Buzz return for this carefully honed story [Apple Pie 4th of July ] about a girl's experience as a first-generation Chinese-American. Readers first encounter the unnamed narrator as she looks unhappily out the glass door of her parents' market, open for business even on the Fourth of July. Hearing the "boom, boom, boom" of the approaching parade, sniffing the apple pie baking in a neighbor's oven, she is distracted by the cooking smells from the store's kitchen, where her parents are preparing chow mein and sweet-and-sour pork. "No one wants Chinese food on the Fourth of July," she tries to explain, and her prediction seems right as the afternoon lengthily unfolds with almost no customers. "My parents do not understand all American things," she reminds herself, "They were not born here." But the evening brings a steady stream of patrons, and the holiday concludes with the family watching fire-works (invented by the Chinese) and eating—what else?—apple pie. The well-paced text—heavily freighted at the beginning and swift by the end—reflects the girl's changing emotions and moods. The art resembles cut-paper collage. [Margaret] Chodos-Irvine deploys sharply defined objects in a range of colors and patterns to construct harmonious, forthright compositions that will likely prove inviting to readers of many backgrounds.

Alicia Eames (review date May 2002)

SOURCE: Eames, Alicia. School Library Journal 48, no. 5 (May 2002): 132.

This simply told story [Apple Pie 4th of July ] explores a child's fears about cultural differences and fitting in with understanding and affection. A Chinese-American girl helps her parents open their small neighborhood grocery store every day of the year. However, today is the Fourth of July and her parents just don't understand that customers won't be ordering chow mein and sweet-and-sour pork on this very American holiday. As she spends the day working in the store and watching the local parade, she can't shake her anxiety about her parents' naivete. When evening arrives along with hungry customers looking "for some Chinese food to go," she is surprised but obviously proud that her parents were right after all: Americans do eat Chinese food on the Fourth of July. Nighttime finds the family atop their roof enjoying fireworks and sharing a neighbor's apple pie. Done in a "variety of printmaking techniques," [Margaret] Chodos-Irvine's illustrations are cheerfully bright and crisp, capturing the spirit of the day as well as the changing emotions of the main character. This second successful collaboration by the creators of Buzz is one you won't want to miss.

Gillian Engberg (review date August 2002)

SOURCE: Engberg, Gillian. Booklist 98, no. 22 (August 2002): 1963.

"No one wants Chinese food on the Fourth of July," says a young Chinese American girl, [Apple Pie 4th of July ] sulking because she's stuck at her parents' food store, missing the parade and the holiday clamor. At first the day feels interminable: there are only a few customers, no one buys the homemade Chow Mein, and the girl thinks, "My parents do not understand all American things. They were not born here." But then, at dinnertime, hungry celebrators crowd in; they want Chinese food, and the line stretches down the block. Later, when the store is closed, the girl joins her parents on the roof for fireworks and a neighbor's apple pie. Wong's message is clear; Chinese food is American. But this powerful, simple reminder is gracefully woven into an appealing story with believable characters and emotions, written in the girl's spare, lyrical voice. [Margaret] Chodos-Irvine, who also illustrated Wong's attractive Buzz (2000), captures the story's uncluttered, elemental qualities in opaque prints that resemble paper cutouts. Vibrant, colorful spreads keep the focus on the girl, using body language to accentuate first her discomfort and boredom, and then her pride as she hands out cartons of takeout.

YOU HAVE TO WRITE (2002)

Julie Cummins (review date July 2002)

SOURCE: Cummins, Julie. Booklist 98, no. 21 (July 2002): 1841.

It's the dreaded class task [You Have to Write ] : write something! "You have to write. You hate to write." Wong's poetic text, which encourages kids to use their own experiences, is practical and also sometimes amusing. The with-it rhymes set the tone while gouache illustrations depict four diverse kids as they sift through the advice, thinking and envisioning. One scene shows the students at their desks picturing different locations they might write about. A variety of page compositions effectively exemplify various choices by using overlapping scenes and album-like framed images. "Take your mind for a walk" and "think about the plain, the everyday." The direct, you-can-do-it approach will stimulate kids to write and also help them with that dismaying assignment. Lots of classroom teachers will find this a great motivator.

Adele Greenlee (review date July 2002)

SOURCE: Greenlee, Adele. School Library Journal 48, no. 7 (July 2002): 112.

This book's [You Have to Write ] gentle but direct approach to creative writing may not appeal to all youngsters, but it may help some students to address some common struggles and to find their own voices. Through free-verse poetry, Wong targets a group of youngsters looking for good topics for a writing assignment. "You want it to be good,/to make us cry/or bust up laughing/when the room is quiet." They are encouraged to look around, and not to be discouraged by the worldliness or experiences of others. "Wait. Did you forget who you are? / Who else can say what you have seen? / Who else can tell your stories.…" A photo albumlike page shows a variety of pets, holidays, hobbies, vacations, and family outings that could be possible topics. "Reach inside./Write about the dark times. / … Write about the bright times. / … Take your mind for a walk / back to this morning, / back to yesterday.…" Examples are given of parents fighting, a wet library book growing mildew, childhood fears of storms, and taking out the trash. For "Weave / them together—/ half of Draft 1, a word from Draft 4, / a whole line from number 5. / Try. Because you have to write, / and you want it to be good," the illustration shows each child laying out stretches of many drafts on the floor. The simple realistic gouache paintings are rather ordinary but appropriate for the "writing from life" philosophy that is espoused.

Laura Tillotson (review date December 2002-January 2003)

SOURCE: Tillotson, Laura. Book Links 12, no. 3 (December 2002-January 2003): 15.

Writers young and old will relate to this entertaining, hands-on exploration of the writing process [You Have to Write ]. In poetic text along expertly focuses on the nitty-gritty frustrations and insecurities that come with writing. "No one else can say / what you have seen and heard / and felt." "Reach inside. Write about the dark times." [Teresa] Flavin's cheerful illustrations feature four young writers and lots of paper flying everywhere.