“This story begins with a boy and a pair of wet socks,” starts this biography of Arnold Lobel, author of the classic Frog and Toad series. It’s an appropriately offbeat beginning to the story of an offbeat person, as author/illustrator Emmy Kastner cleverly and effectively captures some of the charm and whimsy of Lobel’s own works to tell the story of his life.
It was when young Arnold was recovering from the illness possible brought on by his wet socks that he began extensively reading and drawing. Later, he “discovered worlds at the tip of his pencil,” and told stories to his classmates—who at first enjoyed them, but then began treating Arnold as “a bit of an outsider.” Arnold kept his stories to himself for a while.
He continued to read, however, and to live a delightfully quirky life (as an adult, he kept a gorilla suit in his closet). He went to art school, married a woman, tried but didn’t like the business world, and “set out to find his way as a professional daydreamer.”
He first illustrated other people’s books, but eventually started creating his own, even though “That was intimidating.” He trusted that young readers could handle big words (and Kastner delightfully shows characters marching across the page bearing banners of long words like “Vexatious”). Sometimes his words rhymed—which Kastner tells us through a rhyme of her own.
Kastner then shares the origins of his most famous books, and shows how Lobel put his whole being into the stories of Frog and Toad, “his inside, out.” And while it is up to reader to decide what makes the books special, she suggests it’s because we all have a little of both Frog and Toad in us.
Kastner also thoughtfully shows Lobel’s personal journey to coming out. We see an image of him, his children, and his wife, arms around each other, looking over the water, and know there is love here—but “A man who loved his family bravely let them know there was more love for him to find.” The next scene shows him leaning against another man in a boat; Arnold is reading while the other man fishes, and we see he has found “A new world with a new love.” Children who do not yet know what divorce is may need a little explanation here, but it is commendable that Kastner treats this in a way that would have been respectful no matter the gender of Lobel’s new partner.
There are small dashes of queerness elsewhere in the book, too, as images of parents reading Lobel’s books to their children include a two-dad couple and a person with a blue mohawk and earring who could be read as queer.
Of Lobel’s death from complications of AIDS, the book simply says “Arnold became very sick—the sort of ending that came far too soon,” which feels age-appropriate and again respectful. We learn, however, that he spent his last year doing what he loved, writing a clever new book whose page-rotating conceit Kastner echoes.
“We’ll find Arnold in his stories. And we can find ourselves there, too,” Kastner concludes, deftly conveying the key to his books’ ongoing appeal. In a reader’s note at the end, she says she hopes the biography is “both reverential and referential,” and I think she has succeeded admirably, making this a highly recommended title. It will be a welcome addition to any bookshelf that includes Lobel’s own stories.
Backmatter includes more details of Lobel’s life and a bibliography of his works.
