Mind's Eye - by Ellen Orleans

I was immediately drawn to David Wiesner’s FLOTSAM not by its splendid watercolors and ocean themes, but—right on the story’s first page—by a drawing of an LBI beach badge pinned to a canvas tote.

As a long-time summer visitor to Long Beach Island (that is me at the beach on the right), I know these badges well, and thereby also knew, through this level of accurate detail, that this section of the Jersey Shore must also be close to the author’s heart.

The beach badge is just one example of the marvelous minutiae that fills Flotsam (its inside covers are also not to be missed.) From dune grass and rocky jetties to brightly colored beach umbrellas, Wiesner’s pages are chocked with alluring detail—both highly accurate and highly (we assume!) whimsical (who does that tentacle venturing out of the boy’s pencil box belong to, anyway…?). Wiesner not only captures the look of the beach (I can hear waves crash and seagulls squawking!), but—and here’s the first take-way—demonstrates the value of close observation.

And observe his protagonist does. In the opening (un-numbered) pages of this textless story, an inquisitive boy peers through a magnifying glass at a crab, binoculars and even a microscope (neatly sealed in a large Zip-lock bag) at his side.

When the boy walks closer to the water to look at a larger crab, he is tumbled by a rouge wave which washes up a Melville Underwater Camera (Wiesner named it in honor of Herman Melville.) When developed, the photos in reveal a fantastical underwater world of an octopus’ living room (a submerged moving truck seen just in the background), bands of tiny space aliens surrounded by dominant seahorses, islands atop starfish, and shell towns atop the backs of turtles. The world, Wiesner playfully reminds us, is a splendidly mysterious place.

The final photo in the camera roll depicts a girl, holding a photo of a boy, who’s holding yet another of another girl, each smaller than the rest. Ever resourceful, the boy examines this photo first with his magnifying glass, then with the microscope, revealing increasingly smaller images that cross oceans and travel back in time. Here, Wiesner underlines both our connection to the larger world and our responsibility to future generations.

After his parents pack up their beach chairs and walk home, the boy remains at the beach, where he takes a picture of himself holding the photo of the children who came before him, then tosses the camera back into the ocean for the next starfish, sea turtle, or squid to find, for the next child to discover.

Flotsam: The Fish Knows the Secret

While I’ve never seen mechanical fish while swimming in the Atlantic Ocean or spied octopi reading in sea floor living rooms, I have experienced a lot of beach magic: burrowing sand crabs, barnacle worlds clinging to rock jetties, tight flocks of {terns} Sanderlings that appear and disappear as they wheel in the sea air. The vastness of the sea amplifies my sense of wonder; Wiesner’s microscope and magnifying glass the perfect metaphors.

Another running, unsaid (well, everything in this story is unsaid) commentary in FLOTSAM is that adults often miss the magic. When the boy brings the mysterious roll of film to the clerk at the one-hour photo shop, she never gets off the phone while helping him, and hence misses the story of a life time. And while the boy’s parents support his curiosity, they are in their own worlds while he discovers new ones.

Even the title, FLOTSAM, another word for debris or refuse, begs the question: What do we value? Sunday afternoons in box stores instead of box canyons? Netflix instead of night sky? More video games? Fewer state parks?

As a staffer and volunteer for Boulder’s city and county Open Space, I lead hikes for children and adults. While I love learning the names of birds, trees, and flowers, on my hikes I emphasize something else: close observation. Sometimes we sketch pages in nature journals, other times we take photographs. Another activity includes a pack of color swatches from a book of abandoned paint samples. I generally pass out all the samples, allowing participants to choose whichever they want as they try to match their color to flowers, lichen, rocks, or other objects that pass as we hike.

For a recent kids’ hike, though, I handed out only greens. Initially, I was concerned that limiting the color selection to four dozen shades of green would be too challenging to the early-elementary kids who comprised this “Five Senses Nature Hike.” But the children loved it, carefully comparing pine, emerald, kelly, pea and sea green the grasses, pine needles, stems, and leaves they saw.

Another event I developed is simply called “The Magnification Hike,” and I thought of it when I re-read Flotsom and saw the boy’s bulging eye through the magnifying glass. For this hike, I’ve devised and borrowed several “looking activities,” but really, the big hit of the hike is the magnifying glass. I put on in every child’s hand and off they go. They are thrilled by things we usually step right over: Ants in dirt! Bugs on a rock ! Tiny, tiny hairs on a flower stem.

Consider Flotsam an invitation to take a closer look. And please, let me know what you find.

Interview Beachcombing with David Wiesner

The Origin of a Wordless Author

David Wiesner Pod cast