<p><p>emanuel Di Pasquale Was Born In Sicily In 1943 And Grew Up There. When He Was A Baby, His Father Died, And Later He Had To Drop Out Of School And Work In A Bakery To Help Feed His Family. At 13 He Came To America, Where He Eventually Became A Teacher. But He Never Forgot His Homeland, An Island With A Rugged Beauty, Rich In History And Tradition, Family Life And Festivals. This Evocative Collection Of Poems Is Di Pasquale's Tribute To His Native Country. The Author's Childhood Was A Time Of Wonder And Adventure Recorded Here In Brief, Stirring Images Of Village Life -- Waking Up At Dawn To See A Hawk Circling The Sky, Feeling Baby Crabs Scuttle Over His Sandy Toes, And Stumbling Over Stone Tools Resting Where They Were Left By A People Who Vanished Thousands Of Years Ago. These Poems Bring Sicily To Life, Weaving Words Into Music That Remains With The Reader. K. Dyble Thompson's Sensitive Black-and-white Illustrations Accompany The Lyrical Text.<p></p><h3>publishers Weekly</h3><p>while Warm And Bright, This Nostalgic Collection Of Mostly Untitled Poems About The Poet's Childhood In '40s And '50s Sicily Seems Better Suited For Adults Than Children. A Keen Observer, Di Pasquale Describes The Countryside And People He Remembers With Sharp, Quick Images. The Hills In Mid-march Are Red-headed Boys/ With Tough Crew Cuts. The Hawk Startles The Sun As It Stretch[es] Its Shadow Ahead Of Itself. Many Poems Address Universal Experiences Within The Grasp Of Children-learning From A Grandparent, Riding A Carousel, Visiting A Grave-but Many More Require Readers To Decipher Complicated Metaphors And References. For Example, When A Neighbor Butchers His Easter Lamb, The Speaker Think[s] Of The Easter Rebirth,/ When Christ Heals His Wounds,/ And I Jump From The Highest Stairs/ And Roll His Name/ On The Tip Of My Tight Tongue/ And Fall And Fall/ And Never Get Hurt,/ While Swallows Circle/ Like Black Halos/ Over My Head. Time Sequences Are Jumbled, Too, Making The Division Of The Poems Into Seasons Confusing. A Lengthy, Heart-tugging Poem About The Funeral Of The Speaker's Father Appears In The Section Titled Summer, But Then It Is Followed By A Poem About The Father And Child Watching Fireworks In Fall. Reproduced In A Steely Blue Gray That Matches The Type, Thompson's (my Name Is Maria Isabel) Pen-and-ink Drawings Bring A Gentle, Shimmering Light To The Wistful Verse. Ages 8-12. (apr.) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.</p>
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