Before Morning

I have been SO excited about this book, a recent library find. Rarely will I give a book a 15/15 rating (only Jabari Jumps has so far received that rating!), but this book gets pretty close. Before Morning marries poetry to intricate illustrations, creating an absolutely lovely book that celebrates snow, hard work, family love, and small delights—the kind that come when we pause to rest and embrace togetherness. Before warm weather springs forth for good, and before our next (and maybe last?) flurry of snow descends (later this week?!), do yourself a favor: go to your local library and take this book out, or order a copy on Amazon.

Joyce Sidman is a Newberry honor winner and a poet, and it shows: her prose is compact, intricate, and sparkling. Sidman partners with Caldecott-winning illustrator Beth Krommes to produce a book that’s illustrations add flesh and muscle to the beautiful bones of the text.

At its most basic, this story is an interpretive look at what happens to one, apartment-dwelling family and to the rest of their city when a snow fall “interrupts” the normal rhythm of life. I was so taken with the lyric beauty of the text and the intricate illustrations that I literally missed the story line the first time, which follows the mom (who works as an airplane pilot/attendant) through the night of the snowfall on her journey through the city and to the airport and then home. The text progresses through three distinct movements: pre-snow, during snow, and post-snow, showing how the snow transforms not only the landscape, but peoples’ way of being.

Before the snowfall, hurrying home with their dog, the mom is unwilling to pause enter a bakery with her son to buy a few treats. The sidewalks and streets are similarly filled with many others, rushing to or from some destination: pedestrians crowd the sidewalks, walking dogs and babies; bicyclists pedal down the streets beside lines of cars, headlights shining into the gathering dark; passengers fill each seat on the bus. As the snow falls, only a few residents venture out, bundled, to walk their dogs or take the bus. Flights are canceled or delayed. Airline passengers wait, get bored, or rest. The mom in the story doesn’t have a flight to operate or ride. After snowfall, the sledding slope (not the street) becomes the center of activity, and the mom is willing to stop at the bakery and bring home some treats to share with her family. The last illustration (facing the author’s note) shows three snow angels: the family has left their imprints in the snow, together.

Content: 5/5

The text sets up contrasts between hurry and rest, productivity and enjoyment, striving and peace, aloneness and community.

The text sets up contrasts between hurry and rest, productivity and enjoyment, striving and peace, aloneness/individuality and togetherness/community. It prompts me to ponder all the things we worship and seek as humans: productivity, clarity, quickness—and reminds me of the beauty we lose in the pursuit: togetherness, savoring of sweet things, movement prompted by joy rather than necessity.

[This story] prompts me to ponder all the things we worship and seek as humans: productivity, clarity, quickness—and reminds me of the beauty we lose in the pursuit: togetherness, savoring of sweet things, movement prompted by joy rather than necessity.

I’m reminded of these verses from Job 37: “So that everyone he has made may know his work, he stops all people from their labor. The animals take cover; they remain in their dens. The tempest comes out from its chamber, the cold from the driving winds. The breath of God produces ice, and the broad waters become frozen” (37:7-10).

What changed from before to after the snowfall? The landscape, yes, but also the perspective of those viewing the landscape. Before the snow storm, the mom is in too much of a rush to purchase her son baked goods; after, her frenetic pace slowed by the storm, she is willing to stop, buy the treats, and prioritize spending time with her family.  

Too often, it takes something outside of our control—an injury, accident, surgery, broken-down car, illness, birth, death—to cause us to slow down, look around, see (and maybe even rely) on the people around us, and enjoy what’s been there all along. After a snow storm—after anything that slows us down and interrupts our daily rhythms—we have the opportunity to see our world and in its inhabitants with new eyes. This is what rest does: it causes us to stop, to slow, to revaluate what matters most and where we want to invest our emotions, our time, and our energy. And even when these “storms” are unwelcome, creating frustration, delays, or even grief, there is a sweetness in the slowing. Due to the storm, the mom in the story seems to be unable to get a ride home on the bus. However, her need creates community and perhaps even a new bond of friendship. She gets a ride home with a snowplow operator. Without the storm, these two’s paths would likely not have crossed. The sweet part of moments of need and lack is that they bring us together in unexpected ways, helping us rely on each other.

Design: 4.5/5

Text and illustrations form a beautiful braid of meaning, their strands distinguishable and distinct, yet interwoven and creating something more beautiful than the sum of its parts. Each time I read this book, I find a new detail in the pictures that I’d previously missed, bringing the story to life in new ways.

To provide one example, Sidman writes, “Let [. . . ] all that is heavy turn light.” This line is paired with Krommes’ illustration of a park, its paths and statues covered in snow. Each statue represents something “heavy” in our world. There is the thinker (contemplating the deep questions of life), the war memorial, and the Olympian. All could be interpreted as symbols of striving: striving in thought, striving for peace (through violence and war), striving in body (pushing the body to its limit).

My only minor critique of the illustrations is this: it was difficult to distinguish the story’s main characters from each other, at times. Which was the mom, which was the dad, which was the kid? Age and gender are sometimes unclear with the characters, so that it took me several read-throughs (and some astute comparing of clothing—who was wearing the red scarf?) to figure out who was who. However, perhaps this is intentional. This story—like its message—demands to be studied, sat with, observed, and pondered.

Style: 5/5

Sidman is a poet, first and foremost, and it shows. She beautifully incorporates personification, assonance, and contrast in her text. Words like “urgent, quick, flurry, flight, heavy” are juxtaposed with “slumber, founder, slow, delightful, unknowing” to emphasize the beauty of pause.

• I LOVE Sidman’s descriptions like the following: “the deep woolen dark”.
• My favorite line may be “Let quick things be swaddled”.
• I looked up the meaning to founder, which Merriam Webster defines in the following way: “to become disabled (especially to become lame), to give way (collapse), to become submerged (sink), to come to grief (fail).” The word apparently comes from the Latin word fundus which means “bottom” or “base” (words like “foundation” and “found” come to mind!). More on this theme of “giving way” (aka yielding) in a later post!

Overall rating: 14.5/15

Use this link to purchase your own copy of Before Morning–either for yourself or as a gift for a little one in your life.

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