Product Description

‘A child comes to terms with the fact that she and her family are leaving the prairie. . . . As she talks herself into acceptance, her Mama helps her let go, commenting that the baby will need someone to tell him where he came from. So the girl gathers mementoes—a bag of earth and a piece of cottonwood tree. . . .A novel hides in these few pages. As with Sarah, Plain and Tall, the subext vibrates. So much is told in each perfectly chosen phrase. The story is deep and specific, but the pain and denial of a child leaving a known and loved place is all too universal. Moser’s finely-wrought engravings, enhanced by moody tints, record the departure.’—SLJ.

1995 "Pick of the Lists" (ABA)

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #104202 in Books
• Published on: 1998-03-31
• Released on: 1998-02-14
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 32 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780064434928
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

From Publishers Weekly
Newbery Medalist MacLachlan's minimal, deeply resonant text centers on a girl whose parents have sold their farm on the prairie-clearly not by choice. As she anticipates all that she will miss and devises plots to avoid moving ("Or maybe/ I'll live in a tree./ The tall cottonwood that was small/ when Papa was small..."), the child pieces together the sights, sounds and tactile sensations of the only life she has ever known. Her parents' attempts to soften the blow don't appease the determined narrator: "Mama says there's an ocean/ In the new place./ And Papa says there are trees./ I don't need trees,/ Only the one./ I don't need an ocean/ I've got an ocean of grass." But there are words that do offer solace: "What you know first stays with you, my Papa says./ But just in case I forget/ I will take a twig of the cottonwood tree/ I will take a little bag of prairie dirt/ I cannot take the sky." Echoing the mournful tone of MacLachlan's poem are Moser's etchings, which place the story in the Depression. Finely detailed, each tinted subtly with a different color, the illustrations project austerity; they may be a bit severe for the average picture-book audience. The especially handsome book design weights every word with significance. Despite its somber tone, the first collaboration between this deservedly acclaimed duo touches the heart. All ages.
Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From School Library Journal
Kindergarten-Grade 3?A child comes to terms with the fact that she and her family are leaving the prairie. She recalls the people and places she will miss?the blacksmith, the ocean of grass, the drifting snow in winter. As she talks herself into acceptance, her Mama helps her let go, commenting that the baby will need someone to tell him where he came from. So the girl gathers mementos?a bag of earth and a piece of cottonwood tree. There's no happy ending, no real anticipation of the new place?just a sense that the strength of family will carry them through. A novel hides in these few pages. As with Sarah, Plain and Tall (HarperCollins, 1985), the subtext vibrates. So much is told in each perfectly chosen phrase. The story is deep and specific, but the pain and denial of a child leaving a known and loved place is all too universal. Moser's finely wrought engravings, enhanced by moody tints, record the departure. The child is caught defiantly off center at first and later in the midst of the packing up. The people and places to be missed are given a solid reality. There is nothing sentimental in either text or illustration. These are strong people dealing with necessity. While this may not be the sort of light, charming book that has immediate group appeal, someone will find it. And for that someone, it will be just right.?Sally Margolis, formerly at Deerfield Public Library, IL
Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.

About the Author
Patricia MacLachlan was born on the prairie, and to this day carries a small bag of prairie dirt with her wherever she goes to remind her of what she knew first.She is the author of many well-loved novels and picture books, including Sarah, Plain and Tall, winner of the Newbery Medal; its sequels, Skylark and Caleb's Story; and Three Names, illustrated by Mike Wimmer.She lives in western Massachusetts.

In Her Own Words...

"One thing I've learned with age and parenting is that life comes in circles. Recently, I was having a bad time writing. I felt disconnected. I had moved to a new home and didn't feel grounded. The house, the land was unfamiliar to me. There was no garden yet. Why had I sold my old comfortable 1793 home? The one with the snakes in the basement, mice everywhere, no closets. I would miss the cold winter air that came in through the electrical sockets.

"I had to go this day to talk to a fourth-grade class, and I banged around the house, complaining. Hard to believe, since I am so mild mannered and pleasant, isn't it? What did I have to say to them? I thought what I always think when I enter a room of children. What do I know?

"I plunged down the hillside and into town, where a group of fourth-grade children waited for me in the library, freshly scrubbed, expectant. Should I be surprised that what usually happens did so? We began to talk about place, our living landscapes. And I showed them my little bag of prairie dirt from where I was born. Quite simply, we never got off the subject of place. Should I have been so surprised that these young children were so concerned with place, or with the lack of it, their displacement? Five children were foster children, disconnected from their homes. One little boy's house had burned down, everything gone. "Photographs, too," he said sadly. Another told me that he was moving the next day to place he'd never been. I turned and saw the librarian, tears coming down her face.

"'You know,' I said. "Maybe I should take this bag of prairie dirt and toss it into my new yard. I'll never live on the prairie again. I live here now. The two places could mix together that way!" "No!" cried a boy from the back. "Maybe the prairie dirt will blow away!" And then a little girl raised her hand. "I think you should put that prairie dirt in a glass bowl in your window so that when you write you can see it all the time. So you can always see what you knew first."

"When I left the library, I went home to write. What You Know First owes much to the children of the Jackson Street School: the ones who love place and will never leave it, the ones who lost everything and have to begin again. I hope for them life comes in circles, too."

Customer Reviews

I haven't forgotten what I knew first
For any of you who have left home..what you knew first..this book will deeply touch you. As I read this in the bookstore, tears came to my eyes. It's a story of a little girl who struggles to understand why she and her family must leave the only place they know. Though change has its sadness,this book shows the sweetness of memories you take with you forever. This is a good book for a child going through such a change or for an adult who still recalls all those familiar things of home.

Sweet, beautiful story of a child facing change
I love this book for the way the illustrations and story compliment each other so well. The story narrated by a small child facing the prospect of moving to a new home is achingly beautiful. You can feel the child's pain and anxiety about moving to a new place and being afraid of forgetting the old place and the memories therein. The child tells about all the things she will miss and then devises a plan to stay and not go with her family and baby brother. It is a story for anyone who has ever had to face a painful change in his or her life. I could read it again and again.

A nice poetic read
Great for my students as we read about the Great Plains and the move west. Very sentimental.