A love,y little series, giving enough information to be of interest and as a good starting point, but not enough to overwhelm young readers. The covers are appealing and the drawing style engaging.

Rating 2.5

This biographical narrative for children about Harriet Tubman, the great African American Underground Railroad “conductor”, who led hundreds of slaves to freedom is a new offering in the Little People, Big Dreams series. As the series’ title suggests, this picture book makes a point—right from the start—of presenting Harriet (known as Minty in childhood) as a little person already aspiring to a great enterprise. While the rest of her family sleeps, she stands at the window: awake and dreaming of a life away from the plantation, gazing at the North Star that will eventually light her way north to freedom. In thirty sentences total, author Isabel Sanchez Vegara outlines some key events in Tubman’s life: the selling of her three sisters and the frequent beatings she endured in childhood; her being hit on the head when she tried to assist a slave [an event that apparently occurred in her teens]; her brave escape to Philadelphia where she met up with people committed to ending slavery, and her subsequent journeys south (19 times in eleven years) to guide other slaves to freedom; her work as nurse, spy, and military leader during the Civil War, and, finally, in later life, her speaking publicly about women’s rights.

Given the book’s remarkable, legendary, and iconic subject, Vegara provides a pretty bland telling. There are already dozens of books out there on Tubman, and I don’t think this new one offers anything fresh or special to young children. The more violent aspects of Harriet’s story have, not surprisingly, been considerably toned down. However, I believe that in over-sanitizing Tubman’s biography for a young audience, important opportunities have been missed. Regarding a particularly critical event in Harriet’s life, the author writes—in the passive voice: “One morning, while protecting a slave who was trying to escape his overseer, she was hit on the head.” Which begs the question: by whom? The perpetrator of the violence is more or less left out. The fact is: an irate slave owner THREW a heavy metal weight at her, leaving a dent in her skull. Reports suggest that she was comatose for some time, appeared to subsequently suffer from temporal lobe epilepsy and violent headaches, and was frequently overcome by periods of excessive sleepiness. While I don’t see even the watered-down contents of this book being appropriate for kindergarten and grade-one students (five and six year olds), my experience with seven-and-eight-year-old children tells me that they are capable of handling a more direct and truthful telling of Harriet’s experience with an angry white man—presented in the active voice. The fact that Harriet was so committed to the idea of freedom and accomplished so much in spite of her injuries at the hands of another should have been seized as a further source of inspiration to kids.

I also have pretty mixed feelings about the illustrations in this book, which have apparently been created with a mix of ink, marker, and digital techniques. The artist Pili Aguado’s colours are bold, and the style is naïve, childish, and folk-arty, so rules of proportion and perspective aren’t always observed. I don’t have a big problem with that (and I quite like some of the outdoor scenes the artist has rendered), but the lack of historical accuracy bugs me. When we first see Harriet and her (sleeping) family, the setting looks remarkably contemporary. Her parents and siblings, who appear to be dressed in jersey pyjamas, lie under colourful print quilts in a brightly painted room. Harriet’s mother seems to be wearing lipstick, and some members of the family, including Harriet, have noses that resemble those of koala bears. Later in the book, nineteenth-century river (paddle) boats resemble ocean liners (think: the Titanic). The male characters are often dressed entirely in black and resemble modern stage hands (set changers). Then there’s the problem of Harriet looking exactly the same—i.e., like a child—throughout. An image near the end of the book—of Tubman on a twenty-dollar bill—is also problematic. Announced in 2016, the US treasury project of replacing an image of slave-owner, Andrew Jackson, (who, by the way, is also known for his cruel policies towards Native Americans) with one of a slave-liberator, Harriet Tubman, is apparently on the back burner until at least 2026. (The original plan was to have the bills in circulation by 2020). The current Treasury Secretary, Steven Mnuchin, has done nothing but prevaricate about the matter for the last year or so, possibly because his boss is such a great admirer of Andrew Jackson. (Jackson’s portrait presently holds a place of honour in the Oval Office.)

While I understand Isabel Sanchez Vegara’s interest in providing young children with stories of brave and inspirational female figures, I’m not impressed with what I see here—the first book that I have encountered in the series. The thinness of the narrative and the lack of historical accuracy in the accompanying art by Pili Aguado make me conclude that it’s not a bad idea to give this one a pass.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with a digital copy of this book for review purposes.

Beautiful art and a difficult, challenging story told in a way that children can understand. Simple and straightforward