Visually, this is such a stunning book. I love the dominance of blues, like the night sky, the early morning sky. It is a cold color that contrasts perfectly with the warmth of the story. The relationship between the father and son is sweet and I connected with this emotional element. The kindness shows up in the writing as well as the images. A great example of this tenderness is when the father asks if the boy wants to put the bait fish on the hook. The boy does not want to hurt the little fish and declines.
The father tells stories about his life in Vietnam, fishing, and war. The child enacts some familiar stories as he makes a fire and lights it with just one match. These stories are full of acts of kindness. In fact, I think that kindness is the second big theme that connect all these books. Kindness toward best friends, classmates, strangers, and family.
There is one page where two panels highlight others in the community who fish at the same pond. The Hmong man who tells funny jokes, and the Black man who shares his collection of colorful lures. In the images, everyone is smiling, there are high fives and laughter. I enjoy this portrayal of a community of diverse people coming together for a common reason, fishing. Poems Find and share the perfect poems. A shipping container of rubber duckies made in China for the US washed overboard in , and some of them traveled and washed ashore over 17, miles over 15 years.
What little of science I know: its plastic skin invincible against salt water, but not the sun— we can only ask so much.
Will it fade or brown? What I mean to say is I would want one of these for my daughter: its internal clock set to the mercy of the currents that have been predictable for centuries, but mercy is not the word anyone would choose.
Sometimes not making sense and floating are the same. Each wave is its own beginning and ending. Through international waters, you could have caused an incident: no one knowing you, never reaching the hands that hoped for you. Rough immigrant, or free refugee— floating flagless, fading border, stamped with words but not your name.
Immigrant Blues People have been trying to kill me since I was born , a man tells his son, trying to explain the wisdom of learning a second tongue. Li-Young Lee Academy of American Poets Educator Newsletter. Teach This Poem. Follow Us. Find Poets. Poetry Near You. Jobs for Poets. Read Stanza. Privacy Policy. Press Center. First Book Award.
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