Kamishibai Man

Kamishibai men in were kind of like our ice cream truck drivers if they also told illustrated stories while they dished out popsicles. One day an elderly kamishibai man decided to dust off his bicycle and sets off to a large city with his pictures, candies, and - of course - stories. He discovers a lot has changed since his retirement, which was precipitated by a drop in demand for his talents by children who favored television. But as be begins to spins his tales, he discovers that he's brought back a lot of fond memories among his former - now adult - customers. This is a really charming story, and of course because this is a Say title, the illustrations are magical. Say also slides in a gentle-but-pointed message against TV that I appreciated.

My wife and I perform kamishibai stories at local schools, libraries, and cultural festivals, and we always take Kamishibai Man along to show audiences. The illustrations are warm yet detailed; you get a good sense of what it must have been like to watch the original kamishibai men, back in the days before TV. And the story's mix of nostalgia and hope is touching. Highly recommended.

This story, set in old Japan, is that of a story teller (Kamishibai). Jichan,or grandfather in Japanese, and his wife had no children. So, he enjoyed telling his stories to the young children and selling his candies. But all that changed when television came around. The children stopped coming to listen to his stories and he was even shushed by a child when calling for them to come. Though it saddened him, Jichan stopped coming around and being the Kamishibai Man. That is until one day many years later when he decided to give it one last shot. Find out what happens when Jichan returns to the city. See the surprises that are in-store for him.

Like all Allen Say's work, this book is splendidly illustrated. I love the story. It brings me back to my childhood in Hong Kong, where we kids sat outdoor and enjoyed bowls of sweetened soybean gelatin dessert bought from the door-to-door vendor while lapping up our mothers' gossip and real-life tales. The affordability of refrigerator in each home pretty much replaced the vendor. I remember as a little girl, I too had gone by my window one day and shushed the old man for clacking his clappers and yelling to sell his goods. Children and adults will both enjoy the stunning drawings, reading the words aloud, and appreciate the "once upon a time" story.

This book is absolutely amazing. It's like walking through a museum in many ways -- and don't we parents feel great when we take our kids to a museum? We feel like it's worth the admission price to ensure our children know how to appreciate history, art, and beauty. In the introduction, Allen Say writes, "When I think of my childhood in Japan, I think of kamishibai. It means 'paper theater.' Every afternoon, the kamishibai man came on a bicycle that had a big wooden box mounted on the back seat. The box had drawers full of candies and a stage at the top. We bought candies and listened to the man's stories." Say was born in Yokohama in 1937, into a very different Japan than what exists now. Back in the days where people didn't have televisions in their homes, children would eagerly anticipate listening to the kamishibai man's stories. "Clack! Clack!" He would beat his wooden blocks together until he'd drawn a crowd of listeners. His stories were cliffhangers, ending with "to be continued." So the children would return the next day to hear what happened next. In this book, an old man who has retired to the countryside remembers his days of being a kamishibai man. "I've been thinking how much I miss going on my rounds," he says to his elderly wife. So, she makes him some candies, and he rides his bike back into the city, humming along the way (until he reaches the urban metropolis). Much has changed. The trees and quiet parks have been replaced with concrete and buildings. "Who needs to buy so many things and eat so many different foods?" he wonders to himself. The cover of the book shows you what his theater looks like. (Oh, don't you love that picture?) He takes out his wooden blocks and clacks them together, just like in the old times. In his mind, he's seeing the happy faces of children running to him. Thus begins a story within a story, and Say changes his style of artwork to preserve the style of the kamishibai man's illustrated cards. He tells the story of what it was like for him when TVs came along and began to replace his job as entertainer. In a poignant scene, a little girl comes to her window and shushes him! You can see her siblings inside, sitting mesmerized in front of a television set. The sadness on the storyteller's face expresses the end of an era. But as the elderly man finishes his story, he looks up to see that he's surrounded by clapping middle-aged people, who remember him. "We grew up with your stories!" one of them shouts. They applaud him, and he's even filmed by a news station (which is ironic, isn't it?). The facial expressions in the artwork are stunning; you have to look at each picture carefully to notice all the exquisite details. I've watched my five-year-old stare and stare at these pictures. This would be a great addition to school libraries and classrooms -- teachers will love to read it out loud because it's captivating and full of dialogue. In the afterword, a Japanese folklore scholar explains more o