Review by Booklist Review
Most Americans know the story of Paul Bun-yan, but few know that the stories were in part created by an ad executive named W. B. Laughead, who used these tall tales to encourage logging and, consequently, the removal of Indigenous people and the mass deforestation of their lands. Van Sciver tells this tale by featuring Laughead on a stalled train, telling some of the more famous Bunyan tales, while a few open-minded passengers explain to him the reality and harm of the situation. While the combined cartoon and folk art styles work well to capture the giant lore of Paul Bunyan, it seems like a missed opportunity that the exposition scenes, in which Laughead is confronted with the result of his actions, focus primarily on character reactions. Pithy back matter fills in some of those gaps with some great context about the history of Indigenous people in the region and the impact of clear-cut logging, though more information about the origin of Laughead's mythmaking would have been helpful. A mighty attempt to take on a giant topic of forgotten history.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Van Sciver (As a Cartoonist, for adults) and Spirit Lake Dakota/Mohegan/Muscogee member Myles (Thanku) dismantle the Paul Bunyan legend by forefronting the Indigenous foundations and sensationalist propaganda upon which the tale was founded in this enlightening graphic novel. Soft washes of watercolor, marker, and heavy ink render the tale over a single winter day in 1914 Minnesota when, during an unexpected train delay, a pale-skinned lumber advertising executive regales fellow travelers with a swiftly spun yarn of Paul Bunyan. The creators recall the story as it is most widely known, detailing how a giant lumberjack and his equally enormous blue pet ox became "a hero to all the other lumbermen." But rather than applause, the telling is met with audience derision: "Look at it now! Our land laid bare! And his PAUL BUNYAN is responsible for this!" Van Sciver and Myles present a frank and accessible depiction of the environmental and economic impact of boom-bust industries such as clear-cutting logging, particularly on Indigenous peoples, that formed the underpinnings of early American expansion westward, and how the Bunyan fiction perpetuated these systems. Essays by Pueblo of Laguna member Lee Francis and Deondre Smiles, of the Leech Lake Band of Ojibwe, feature throughout, providing contextual and historical information for the brief tale. Ages 7--up. (Aug.)
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Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 4--6--On a cold Minnesota day in 1914, the folks of a stopped train gather around a fire to tell stories. Inspired by their one-upmanship, an advertiser from the Red River Lumber Company shares the unbelievable origins and adventures of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. With dramatic flair, he claims this admired lumberjack was so large that nature itself shifted in his wake. His story captures his audience, as does this graphic novel with its narrative presentation and "old-time" cartoon style. Knowing that legends often upstage the truth, Van Sciver demonstrates the power of stories and wisely has characters interject at intervals to remind readers of the consequences of tall tales. But he rushes at the end to include important details about First Nations people and the invasion by the American government. While the format makes the topic engaging, those seeking more information about the history will need to look to the foreword and afterword, which recount the effects of colonization and how stories like Paul Bunyan's played a role. These provide First Nation perspectives, photographs, and information about William B. Laughead's marketing tool for American occupation. VERDICT This book uses a historical foundation to help readers reassess a myth that glorified greed. For fans of folklore and educators, it offers an opportunity for critical thinking with eye-opening results.--Rachel Forbes
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Review by Horn Book Review
Wait, Paul Bunyan wasn't born in Maine and cradled in the Bay of Fundy before making his way to Minnesota's north woods with Babe, his blue ox? It turns out his legend was promulgated in a Red River Lumber Company marketing campaign as a way to promote both the timber industry and, according to an introduction by Lee Francis IV (Pueblo of Laguna), "the common colonial theme of settling various lands and regions that once belonged to Indigenous peoples to make way for 'American civilization.'" This caution paves the way for the graphic-format tale, which imagines a train making its way through Minnesota's winter in 1914, stopped in its tracks by an accident up ahead. The passengers while away the time with stories. Red River's advertising manager delights many with his tales of Paul Bunyan (who looks, in the scratchy ink-and-watercolor panels, a lot like the storyteller in buffalo plaid). The yarns have some detractors, who make note of the clear-cut forests and the displacement of Native peoples -- and Van Sciver gives them the last word, effectively complicating the folk-hero narrative for both characters and readers. The book concludes with essays by Indigenous contributors Deondre Smiles (Leech Lake Band of Ojibwe) and the book's coauthor and illustrator Myles (Spirit Lake Dakota), and a map of the region from a Native perspective. It's a busy, thoughtful presentation that will leave readers with much to ponder about the making of this strand of the American mythos. Vicky SmithNovember/December 2023 p.91 (c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
The Paul Bunyan tall tale gets felled. In the winter of 1914, a steam locomotive chugs along through Minnesota until an accident halts the journey. The passengers--diverse in skin tone--exit the train and gather around a fire. Soon, stories start flowing to pass the time--tales of larger-than-life strong men Joe Mufferaw, Otto Walta, and George Knox. But these "small fry" are nothing compared to Paul Bunyan, who a timber advertising executive alleges "shaped this land himself." As the details about Bunyan get more and more outlandish, some listeners cry "malarkey." Others remain rapt. As the tracks are cleared and the crowds die down, a few passengers confront the executive with the truth: The timber industry's success comes at the cost of land stolen from Native Nations, and the Bunyan legend was a carefully constructed marketing ploy to justify the razing of trees. The introduction and backmatter delve more deeply into the myth and include multiple contemporary Native perspectives; young people are urged to "acknowledge…those who actually were living on that land," and a map charts villages, burial mounds, and sacred sites of the Mdewakanton Dakota. Readers will come away ready to question what other falsehoods they've been fed about the history of marginalized people. Full-color illustrations effectively use smoke cloud panel borders to delineate the tall tales. A heightened sense of scale makes Bunyan practically leap off the page in grandeur. An accessible and important reminder of how easily the truth can be co-opted. (bibliography) (Graphic nonfiction. 8-12) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
