1. Bibliography
Say, Allen. 2005. Kamishibai Man. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN 978-0-618-47954-2
Say, Allen. 2005. Kamishibai Man. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN 978-0-618-47954-2
2. Plot summary
On the outskirts of a large Japanese city live an old man and his wife. Although childless they call each other “Jiichan” and “Baachan”, Grandpa and Grandma. Retired, Jiichan has grown restless and “miss(es) going on my rounds.” He comments that his bicycle is still in good working order and Baachan replies that “one day won’t hurt, I suppose. Should I make some candies?” And so, his homemade candies packed in a drawer of the large wooden box strapped to his bicycle, he peddles “down the hillside in the first light of morning” and over the “rickety old bridge.” When he gets to the city he finds it greatly changed; trucks blasting their horns, tall buildings, and many, many cars. Still, he finds a vacant lot, props up his wooden stage, checks the picture cards inside, and opens the drawer containing Baachan’s “good candies, just like the old days.” He begins to reminisce, out loud, about the children who used to listen to the stories of the “kamishibai man” and buy the candies “red ones and green ones and the soft ones on sticks.” Sadly, he remembers how they drifted away as television became popular until one day not one child came to listen to the stories of the kamishibai man, and so, he packed up his wooden picture box and his candies and never returned. When he looks up from his recollections he is surprised to see a crowd of adults listening raptly; the children-now grown-who always gathered to hear the stories of the kamishibai man. “Will you be going out tomorrow?” Baachan asks that evening; and the kamishibai man smiles.
3. Critical analysis
Kamishibai (paper theater) and the kamishibai man himself are cultural markers. A well-known sight in the cities of Japan before World War II, kiamishibai means paper theater in Japanese. The kamishibai man traveled the city on his bicycle telling his stories in installments using picture cards that slid out from a wooden box one-by-one and always ended “with the hero or heroine hanging from a cliff or getting pushed off it.” Introducing the kamishibai man to readers who weren’t lucky enough to grow up in Japan author Allen Say enhances his story with full-page watercolor illustrations in the same style as the kamishibai paintings; so perfect, precise, and detailed they resemble photographs. He opens his story with the kimishibai man, wearing wooden sandals, sitting, sadness in his posture, on the porch of his wooden, stilted house; his wife kneeling behind him holding a paper fan while his bicycle sits idle beneath a bamboo screen. The kamishibai man misses telling his stories and seeing the children’s faces light up. Deciding he has been retired long enough, he straps the kamishibai stage to his bicycle, packs the homemade candies Baachan has made and sets out across the bridge into the city where everything has changed. Huge trucks drive menacingly close behind him while on every post and building signs advertise in Japanese. He hunches over the handlebars of his bicycle, going as fast as he can while “a car horn blasted at him, then another. Why are there so many cars all of a sudden? Look at these tall buildings! You’d think I was in another country1” Finding a vacant lot he opens his wooden case to organized his pictures and inspect the candies his wife has made, “Thank you Baachan-you make good candies, just like in the old days.” He smiles, his eyes brightening behind his thick, round, glasses then “from the top drawer he takes out two wooden blocks, and holding one in each hand hits them together. A sharp, loud clack rang out.” And so, just like in the old days the kamishibai man begins his story. However, this time his story is about his memories of telling stories to the children. The illustrations take the reader back to another time, the children gathered round him, some on tip-toe to see, girls in skirts and ankle socks, the boys in short pants; their dark eyes and black hair shining in the sun, all turned toward the kamishibai man, listening raptly. He tells sadly about the coming of television, “It wasn’t long after that when television antennas started to sprout from the rooftops like weeds in the springtime.” And the children “started to act as though they didn’t know me anymore.” When he comes to himself, a crowd has gathered; not children, but adults; some in business attire, some of the women in kimonos, and they shout for the old stories; “tell us Little One Inch again! and The Bamboo Princess! The Peach Boy.” And then they begin to applaud and buy his candies; hungry for the old days and the old stories. A man with a movie camera approaches and bows; and as the story closes Jiichan and Baachan sit on the floor at a low table drinking tea from cups with no handles, chopsticks lay horizontally below the individual bowls containing the evening meal of fish and vegetables. They both smile gently and talk quietly about the story of the kamishibai man on the evening news. “Will you be going out tomorrow?” Baachan asks. “You need more sweets.” And Jiichan replies, “could you make it twice the usual amount?” The Kamishibai Man has found a new audience; the same children, now grown and nostalgic for the old days; just like the kamishibai man. Children of all ages will love Kamishibai Man and the story of his comeback. An afterword is included by Japanese folklore scholar Tara McGowan on the history of kamishibai.
4. Review excerpts
School Library Journal: “Grade 1-5–An elderly kamishibai (paper theater) man decides to return to the city and spend the day on his former rounds. His wife makes candies for him, just as in the past, and he sets off on his bicycle. Things have changed–there's traffic with honking horns and he wonders, Who needs to buy so many things and eat so many different foods? when he sees the shops and restaurants replacing beautiful trees that have been cut. He sets up his theater and begins to tell his personal story of being a kamishibai man in a flashback sequence. Soon he is surrounded by adults who remember him and his stories from their youth. Ironically, that night he is featured on the news on television–the very technology that replaced him. Say's distinctive style and facial expressions are especially touching. A foreword gives readers a glimpse of the importance of the kamishibai man in the author's early life, and an afterword provides a historical look at the forgotten art form. The power of the story and the importance of the storyteller are felt in this nostalgic piece that makes readers think about progress. Those interested in storytelling and theater will be especially impressed with this offering, but it will have broad appeal.”
Booklist: “Gr. 1-3. In a foreword, Say explains that Kamishibai means "paper theater" and that years ago Kamishibai men were itinerant storytellers who traveled around Japan on bicycles with a big, wooden box mounted on the back seat. The box contained a miniature theater, and beneath it were drawers of candy that the performer sold to eke out a living. As a storyteller spun his tale, he used picture cards to illustrate dramatic points, finishing each time with a cliffhanger designed to entice the children in his audience to come back another time to hear the continuation of the story. Say's lovely new book is about an elderly Kamishibai man, long retired, who, missing his rounds, decides to pedal back to the old neighborhood for one last performance. The story-within-a-story that emerges reveals why this unique type of performance art has all but disappeared. The quietly dramatic, beautifully evocative tale contains a cliffhanger of its own, and its exquisite art, in the style of Kamishibai picture cards, will attract even the most jaded kid away from the TV to enjoy a good, good book.”
5. Connections
Reader’s advisory suggestions for those who liked Kamishibai Man:
The Bicycle Man by Allen Say
Grandfather’s Journey by Allen Say
On the outskirts of a large Japanese city live an old man and his wife. Although childless they call each other “Jiichan” and “Baachan”, Grandpa and Grandma. Retired, Jiichan has grown restless and “miss(es) going on my rounds.” He comments that his bicycle is still in good working order and Baachan replies that “one day won’t hurt, I suppose. Should I make some candies?” And so, his homemade candies packed in a drawer of the large wooden box strapped to his bicycle, he peddles “down the hillside in the first light of morning” and over the “rickety old bridge.” When he gets to the city he finds it greatly changed; trucks blasting their horns, tall buildings, and many, many cars. Still, he finds a vacant lot, props up his wooden stage, checks the picture cards inside, and opens the drawer containing Baachan’s “good candies, just like the old days.” He begins to reminisce, out loud, about the children who used to listen to the stories of the “kamishibai man” and buy the candies “red ones and green ones and the soft ones on sticks.” Sadly, he remembers how they drifted away as television became popular until one day not one child came to listen to the stories of the kamishibai man, and so, he packed up his wooden picture box and his candies and never returned. When he looks up from his recollections he is surprised to see a crowd of adults listening raptly; the children-now grown-who always gathered to hear the stories of the kamishibai man. “Will you be going out tomorrow?” Baachan asks that evening; and the kamishibai man smiles.
3. Critical analysis
Kamishibai (paper theater) and the kamishibai man himself are cultural markers. A well-known sight in the cities of Japan before World War II, kiamishibai means paper theater in Japanese. The kamishibai man traveled the city on his bicycle telling his stories in installments using picture cards that slid out from a wooden box one-by-one and always ended “with the hero or heroine hanging from a cliff or getting pushed off it.” Introducing the kamishibai man to readers who weren’t lucky enough to grow up in Japan author Allen Say enhances his story with full-page watercolor illustrations in the same style as the kamishibai paintings; so perfect, precise, and detailed they resemble photographs. He opens his story with the kimishibai man, wearing wooden sandals, sitting, sadness in his posture, on the porch of his wooden, stilted house; his wife kneeling behind him holding a paper fan while his bicycle sits idle beneath a bamboo screen. The kamishibai man misses telling his stories and seeing the children’s faces light up. Deciding he has been retired long enough, he straps the kamishibai stage to his bicycle, packs the homemade candies Baachan has made and sets out across the bridge into the city where everything has changed. Huge trucks drive menacingly close behind him while on every post and building signs advertise in Japanese. He hunches over the handlebars of his bicycle, going as fast as he can while “a car horn blasted at him, then another. Why are there so many cars all of a sudden? Look at these tall buildings! You’d think I was in another country1” Finding a vacant lot he opens his wooden case to organized his pictures and inspect the candies his wife has made, “Thank you Baachan-you make good candies, just like in the old days.” He smiles, his eyes brightening behind his thick, round, glasses then “from the top drawer he takes out two wooden blocks, and holding one in each hand hits them together. A sharp, loud clack rang out.” And so, just like in the old days the kamishibai man begins his story. However, this time his story is about his memories of telling stories to the children. The illustrations take the reader back to another time, the children gathered round him, some on tip-toe to see, girls in skirts and ankle socks, the boys in short pants; their dark eyes and black hair shining in the sun, all turned toward the kamishibai man, listening raptly. He tells sadly about the coming of television, “It wasn’t long after that when television antennas started to sprout from the rooftops like weeds in the springtime.” And the children “started to act as though they didn’t know me anymore.” When he comes to himself, a crowd has gathered; not children, but adults; some in business attire, some of the women in kimonos, and they shout for the old stories; “tell us Little One Inch again! and The Bamboo Princess! The Peach Boy.” And then they begin to applaud and buy his candies; hungry for the old days and the old stories. A man with a movie camera approaches and bows; and as the story closes Jiichan and Baachan sit on the floor at a low table drinking tea from cups with no handles, chopsticks lay horizontally below the individual bowls containing the evening meal of fish and vegetables. They both smile gently and talk quietly about the story of the kamishibai man on the evening news. “Will you be going out tomorrow?” Baachan asks. “You need more sweets.” And Jiichan replies, “could you make it twice the usual amount?” The Kamishibai Man has found a new audience; the same children, now grown and nostalgic for the old days; just like the kamishibai man. Children of all ages will love Kamishibai Man and the story of his comeback. An afterword is included by Japanese folklore scholar Tara McGowan on the history of kamishibai.
4. Review excerpts
School Library Journal: “Grade 1-5–An elderly kamishibai (paper theater) man decides to return to the city and spend the day on his former rounds. His wife makes candies for him, just as in the past, and he sets off on his bicycle. Things have changed–there's traffic with honking horns and he wonders, Who needs to buy so many things and eat so many different foods? when he sees the shops and restaurants replacing beautiful trees that have been cut. He sets up his theater and begins to tell his personal story of being a kamishibai man in a flashback sequence. Soon he is surrounded by adults who remember him and his stories from their youth. Ironically, that night he is featured on the news on television–the very technology that replaced him. Say's distinctive style and facial expressions are especially touching. A foreword gives readers a glimpse of the importance of the kamishibai man in the author's early life, and an afterword provides a historical look at the forgotten art form. The power of the story and the importance of the storyteller are felt in this nostalgic piece that makes readers think about progress. Those interested in storytelling and theater will be especially impressed with this offering, but it will have broad appeal.”
Booklist: “Gr. 1-3. In a foreword, Say explains that Kamishibai means "paper theater" and that years ago Kamishibai men were itinerant storytellers who traveled around Japan on bicycles with a big, wooden box mounted on the back seat. The box contained a miniature theater, and beneath it were drawers of candy that the performer sold to eke out a living. As a storyteller spun his tale, he used picture cards to illustrate dramatic points, finishing each time with a cliffhanger designed to entice the children in his audience to come back another time to hear the continuation of the story. Say's lovely new book is about an elderly Kamishibai man, long retired, who, missing his rounds, decides to pedal back to the old neighborhood for one last performance. The story-within-a-story that emerges reveals why this unique type of performance art has all but disappeared. The quietly dramatic, beautifully evocative tale contains a cliffhanger of its own, and its exquisite art, in the style of Kamishibai picture cards, will attract even the most jaded kid away from the TV to enjoy a good, good book.”
5. Connections
Reader’s advisory suggestions for those who liked Kamishibai Man:
The Bicycle Man by Allen Say
Grandfather’s Journey by Allen Say
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