Have you seen Du Iz Tak? Carson Ellis’s oversized gouache and ink spreads are impressive to be sure, but it's her ear for entomological dialogue that shines in this one; well, I’ll let you be the judge. Not to give too much away, but at the emotional climax (***spoiler alert*** when the flowering plant that has been the focal point of the story bursts into bloom) a sampling of character exclamations reads:

“Iz unk gladdenboot!”
“Unk scrivadelly gladdenboot!”
[… silent contemplation from a sowbug as she/it puffs huge smoke rings on a pipe]
“Unk gladdenboot!”
“Su!”

Okay … so I’m being a bit disingenuous; I actually don’t have a clue what any of that means (does “gladdenboot” mean blossom, and “scrivadelly” beautiful?). But it's hard to deny Ellis has achieved something pretty remarkable with Du Iz Tak?: her visual storytelling is so rich in detail, so beautiful in its bizarre worldbuilding, that young readers can follow the plot without needing to decipher the invented language.

The character development here is some of the strongest one will find in a picture book this year, and it is achieved almost entirely through gesture and expression. There’s the trio of childlike beetle friends who build a Swiss Family Robinson-esque “furt” (a fort, complete with a Jolly Roger flag … that is, if pirates had antennae) in the growing plant; the helpful, jack-of-all-trades sowbug with a way-too-small bowler hat who loans the beetles a “ribble” (ladder) and then proceeds to fall asleep reading a book out on a chaise longue; the violin-playing grasshopper (any musicologists out there want to analyze Ellis’s musical notation?); the stick insect who stays hidden for most of the story (one of many visual Easter eggs Ellis leaves for readers to find and delight in). At the cataclysmic moment when a huge bird flies off with an interloping spider, watch the reactions from each character. Disappointment becomes terror melts into relief and then (when the plant blooms) awe, shown largely through the body language and countenances of myriad six-legged critters. Nicely done, Ms. Ellis.

I should probably admit that I have a bit of history with Ellis’s work. But remember, Caldecott committee members are allowed to consider “only the books eligible for the award”; in other words, if an artist has made work in the past that I as a Real Committee member have found problematic, or amazingly beautiful, or somewhere in between, no matter. I am charged with considering only the books published in 2016. Committee members can’t consider Ellis’s past work — they can look only at this title. Which is hard (really, really hard!), but essential to the process. (At the same time, it’s heartening to note that inclusiveness is now a part of the Caldecott manual — see page 25.)

Remember that the Caldecott Medal is “given to the artist of the most distinguished picture book for children”; four definitions of “distinguished” are listed alongside, one of which reads “Individually distinct.” Ellis's weird/wonderful Du Iz Tak? is nothing if not individually distinct. I don't really understand everything about it, but does that knock it out of contention? And more importantly, will the members of the Real Committee get it — and find it individually distinct — enough to land it a “scrivadelly” medal on the cover?

 

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