Underwear

What We Wear Under There  
by Ruth Freeman Swain 
illustrated by John O'Brien 
Holiday House  2008 

A picture book history of undergarments over the ages that provides some basic coverage but nonetheless has a few holes.

This was a book on my radar some time ago that dropped off and resurfaced mysteriously.  All I could remember going in was how I thought this was the perfect subject for a picture book, something that might pair nicely with Fartiste, or perhaps even Captain Underpants. 

For the most part what we get is serviceable.  The book moves historically from breechclouts  and loincloths through the middle ages, hop skit fads, corsets and nylons, and diapers ancient and modern.  The problem for me occurs early on when we start getting some unfamiliar vocabulary and nothing to help us understand it. "During the Middle Ages in Europe, women wore coarse shifts over their loincloths for warmth."  Having only previously been told about loincloths as the single bandage-wrap ancient Egyptians wore, and with no idea what the shape and covering a shift looks like, all we are given as an illustration is a single panel showing a pair of knights jousting.  We sort of get a glimpse of a shapeless garment that might be a shift a couple pages later hanging from a clothes line, but not enough to really understand its coverage or purpose.  

Other unexplained and unseen garments include doublets, petticoats, bloomers and the actual Chinese pants that are constructed in a way that allowed for easy access when using the bathroom.  Pants that open when you squat and close when you stand up?  I have seen these pants and they are an interesting point in fashion engineering and would be the sort of thing a reader would also want to see. 

It's difficult to pin down the source of the problem here.  The book is clearly researched, with an easy-to-read text, but fails to really give us a sense of what the evolution of underwear looked like.  This is a picture book, so that point is unforgivable.  At the same time, working only from the text, an illustrator might have felt limited without doing the author's research all over.  I would like to think that an editor would make sure the illustrator had everything they needed in the way of source materials, or that the pictures illuminated what was hinted at in the text, but that isn't the case here.

So in the end Underwear: What We Wear Under There gives us a peek at at unmentionables but fails to provide enough coverage to satisfy.

Fiesta Fiasco

by Ann Whitford Paul
illustrated by Ethan Long
Holiday House 2007

Conejo, Iguana and Tortuga stop by the market on the way to their friend Culebra's party to purchase birthday gifts for him. Iguana thinks Culebra would like a globo but Conejo convinces him that a sombrero would make a better gift. Similarly when Tortuga considers a fine tazon Conejo insists on a camise. And when Iguana and Tortuga point out that their friend would like a nice libro Conejo instead thinks pantalones make more sense.

Conejo, being a trickster rabbit, knows that his friend Culebra is a snake and his excuses for each of the gifts -- "He can wear the pants once he grows his legs" -- allows him to appropriate the useless gifts for himself once they are opened at the party. Dressed in Culebra's hat, shirt and pants he is expelled for being a rude friend while Culebra, Iguana and Tortuga continue to enjoy the fiesta.

Shame-faced Conejo returns with proper gifts, the book, bowl and balloon originally considered at the market. Snake is happy and while the four friends settle in for some fine birthday torta they discuss whose birthday comes next. Mine! Shouts Conejo excitedly, and everyone knows exactly what to get him: a touristy outfit of a sombrero, camise and pantalones.

Telling the story with Spanish words peppered and reinforced throughout with pictures allows for an easy immersion lesson in bilingualism. It feels a bit awkward up front as the characters settle in at the market but quickly the words become familiar as the story gains it's momentum and pacing. The bright-colored cartoon illustrations are warm, humorous, and give very solid contextual clues about how the characters feel and what they are talking about.

There's a fine line between a book like this which feels like a tale told from the Mexican desert and the deliberate teaching books of Dora the Explorer. Whenever I see anything Dora I get this hinkey feeling climbing up my back, as if the books were intended to help gringo children better communicate with the children of their nannies and housekeepers. There's something that rings just a tad false about all that PBS bilingualism, even while I know that it's really intended for the Spanish speaking children in the audience. The wording and the lessons feel so deliberate in a way that the other educational programming doesn't and it sits poorly with me.

Not so much in Fiesta Fiasco, where the limited and simple vocabulary (with a pronunciation guide for parents on the copyright page) are aimed at playfully at introducing new language to readers for whom all words are new language. Like I said, it's a fine line, but one I think is well handled here in a non-pedagogical way.