Peter Sis

Born in Czechoslovakia in 1949, PETER SÍS is an internationally renowned author and illustrator of many books for children. He has now received, among many other awards, three Caldecott Honours, the Bologna Ragazzi Nonfiction Award, the Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis, and the MacArthur Foundation “Genius” Award. He also received the Hans Christian Andersen Award in 2012 for his lasting contribution to children’s illustration. He has lived in New York City in America since 1984. The Pilot and the Little Prince is published by Pushkin Children’s Books in July 2014.  A tapestry designed by Peter Sis in memory of Seamus Heaney on behalf of Arts for Amnesty will be unveiled in Dublin in April.

“Peter Sís is a genius. That word may be so overused as to be almost meaningless, but I have no other explanation for the seemingly endless depths of his fertile imagination.”  Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

 

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Radical Revenge

We all know what it’s like to want revenge, but where does that urge come from?  Why is it so hard to give up?  And why can some people only satisfy it through extreme and brutal acts?  In her new book, Radical Revenge, Renée Danziger draws on psychoanalytic thinking to offer a fresh perspective on […]

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Light to Life

In this fascinating, revelatory new book, biologist Raffael Jovine takes us on a journey of discovery into the intricate, beautiful and often surprising processes that convert energy from the sun into life and how all-important these are to our survival. Despite the unprecedented challenges the Earth faces from global warming, habitat loss, air pollution and […]

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The Art of Repair

It all started with a pair of socks… White, woollen – my favourite pair. The heels had become thin and threadbare; then a small hole appeared on one of the toes. Too precious to throw away, I decided to mend them. I chose a ball of yarn from my mother’s wool collection and she found me her old darning mushroom, which had once belonged to my granny, and explained the basics. I remember the feeling of it: threading the needle with a strand of contrasting grey wool, while pulling the heel over the domed wooden mushroom; weaving my needle in and out of the surviving strands; making little bridges back and forth like a lawn mower; slowly closing the hole. The process was instinctive. I can still recall the feeling of pride and achievement when I had finally finished. Sure my darn looked a little rustic, but I had given my socks
a new lease of life, a second chance.

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