Tag Archives: swan laurel snyder julie morstad
recent non-fiction picture books that will make you cry (in a good way)
The Case for Loving by Selina Alko, illustrated by Sean Qualls and Selina Alko.
This book. It’s by an interracial couple about an interracial couple in the past, the Lovings, who went to court to fight for the legality of their marriage and changed everything. Qualls and Alko combined illustration techniques to create a truly special, collaborative book with love at its center.
Growing up Pedro by Matt Tavares.
Even if you’re not a baseball fan, I guarantee this story of two brothers looking out for each other will get to you. Pedro Martinez was once a kid growing up in the Dominican Republic, dreaming of the major leagues. This is the story of how he got there and the relationship with his older brother that sustained him.
Enormous Smallness by Matthew Burgess, illustrations by Kris Di Giacomo.
This biography of E.E. Cummings is moving because of its beauty—in illustrations and layout design and in poetry. Not only that, but it’s infused with spirit and the idea that you can accomplish your dreams with courage and by staying true to yourself. Yes.
Swan by Laurel Snyder and Julie Morstad.
The perfect combination of joy and melancholy, this tribute to Anna Pavlova’s life (and death) brings sweet, satisfying tears.
Ivan the Remarkable True Story of the Shopping Mall Gorilla by Katherin Applegate, illustrated by G. Brian Karas.
If you loved the middle grade novel, The One and Only Ivan, then you’ll love this pared down picture book version for younger readers. It gives us the real life story of a gorilla captured from his home and family, living an isolated shopping mall experience, and then finally finding a new home and companions.
Firebird by Misty Copeland, illustrated by Christopher Myers.
This book will make you feel things because of who wrote it (principal ballerina Misty Copeland) and how she did so. And it will make you feel things because of who it’s addressed to: young people with dreams that seem far away to impossible. Plus those vibrant, fiery illustrations that dance on the page.
And finally, one to look forward to!
Finding Winnie by Lindsay Mattick, illustrated by Sophie Blackall (out in October!).
This is the origin behind the origin of Winnie the Pooh, the real life bear named Winnipeg. It’s a beautiful example of a story within a story—a mother telling her son a bedtime tale about their family history: a veterinarian in the army during World War I and the bear cub he bought for twenty dollars at a train station. It’s a masterful book and has so much to say about those moments when one’s “heart makes up one’s mind.”
Thanks to Little, Brown and Company for the image of Finding Winnie.
Any tear-inducing (in a good way) non-fiction picture books to add to the list?
swan: the life and dance of anna pavlova + laurel snyder author interview

“Every day must end in night.Every bird must fold its wings.Every feather falls at last, and settles.”
This Picture Book Life: Tell us about your history as a dancer, specifically with ballet. What was the first time you saw a dance performance?
TPBL: What influence did Anna Pavlova have on you? What drew you to her and her story?
LS: She was definitely an influence, though I’m not entirely certain how it began. I remember my best friend and I had these paper dolls, and we’d fight over them! The Swan was always my favorite, but if memory serves, Susan preferred Les Sylphides. Then, at some point I got my hands on an old book of photos, that included a portion of Anna’s diaries, and I became obsessed. I loved the rags-to-riches quality of her story. She was this impoverished washerwoman’s kid, who became a kind of princess. I was also a little obsessed with the idea of boarding school, and I loved history, so for me, Anna’s saga was utterly dreamy.
Now, as an adult, I’m drawn to the idea that Pavlova really was a missionary for dance. That she wanted to spread the word, share it with the world! It had changed her life, and she wanted to spread that passion. But I don’t think I grasped that as a kid. When I was ten, it was just the transformation of Anna herself that I loved. And the idea of having a grand passion. I wanted to be devoted to something myself!
TPBL: How was your manuscript paired with Julie Morstad (*swoon*)?
LS: That was sheer genius on the part of the folks at Chronicle. My editor Melissa was the person who introduced me to her work, and I fell in love at first sight. I was over the moon when Julie agreed to do the project, and when the first sketches came in, I burst into tears. She really did capture the pictures in my head. I’m not sure how that happened. It’s a kind of magic.
TPBL: Tell us about the spread in which Anna is told she cannot attend ballet school. The thing is, you don’t tell us explicitly that’s what she was told. How did you go about writing those lines and how did you decide on the strategy you used to communicate that information so subtly?
LS: That’s a really good question! My first genre is poetry– and this book began that way, as a sort of poem. I didn’t begin with a story so much as a tone, an emotional thread. I wanted to share my sense of Anna as a girl. Loneliness, coldness, and then the dazzle of that first ballet, and the hard work of her training. For that kind of emotional/image narrative, a poem just made sense.
TPBL: I appreciate how you deal with death in SWAN. Tell us about spending time with Anna’s death in the closing spreads. What relationship does death have to Anna’s life and dance and/or to your own philosophy of writing picture books or this one in particular?
LS: Actually, the publication of this book probably hinged on the fact that I couldn’t imagine the story without the death/end. Long before I had a contract, I wrote the manuscript, but I knew I couldn’t deal with the idea of her death being left off, and I also knew most editors wouldn’t want to include it. I kept imagining people saying, “Why don’t we just end it HERE, when she’s blossomed into a swan! Isn’t that NICE?”
So I reached out to an editor I’d been following online, who seemed to feel like I did about such matters. I asked her whether a picture book biography could include a deathbed scene. And that was the beginning of my poem becoming a book.
LS: I feel very very strongly that most kids can handle big ideas and sad moments. Some kids– and I was this way myself– crave sadness. Often, kids ARE sad, and when you ARE sad, it can be terrible to be constantly surrounded by balloons and smiles. Sometimes, the most comforting thing is to know that sadness enters everyone’s life, and that you aren’t alone. Books are such a good way to encounter the sadness of others. They help us build empathy, and also keep us company.
But also, this isn’t just about sadness. It’s important for kids to hear stories of good deaths. Anna’s life was a good life, and her death was a good death, in a way. She changed the world, lived on her own terms, and died surrounded by the art she loved. She was mourned deeply, and this book is a part of that. Mourning isn’t just sadness. It’s missing, a celebration of a life well-lived.
If we teach kids only about death as atrocity, we make it a terrifying thing. Which is awful, because of course we’re all going to die. Anna lived well, and was mourned deeply by millions of people. Her gift continues now, far beyond her life. I can’t think of a happier ending for anyone, really.
Big thanks to Laurel Snyder for writing the book and sharing her answers! I leave you with this footage of Anna Pavlova dancing “The Dying Swan.” I’m so glad this exists.