The third book I translated in 2025 was Born Bad, written by CK Smouha and illustrated by Stephen Smith. This book was first published in the UK in 2018, and I submitted the Chinese translation in July 2019. The Chinese version was almost published in 2023, and finally came out in 2025.
This book is CK Smoha’s picture book debut. The writing style is simple and plain. The “wolf” appears directly as the protagonist, and then a series of dialogues are carried out with other animals. It is a bit like a philosophical dialogue, and also has a sense of drama. The dialogue naturally includes all kinds of knowledge about the relevant animals. It seems playful and humorous on the surface, but it is full of metaphors about reality behind it.
For example, the wolf wondered, “whether a leopard can change his spots?” The leopard replied, “I was born spotty and you were born bad.” The implicit knowledge point here is that the leopard’s spots are the distribution of fur pigments controlled by genetic genes. This is indeed innate. But is the “bad guy” really born?
For example, in reality, different patterns actually serve camouflage and ecological adaptation, and are part of diversity. But when the wolf pointed out that the chameleon’s color change is just for camouflage, the chameleon angrily retorted: ” I can be bright when I’m angry and dark when I’m sad. You’re not bad, you’re just ignorant!” — The implicit knowledge point here is: Chameleon’s color change is not only for camouflage, but also reflects emotions, light, body temperature changes or social signals. In fact, isn’t it the same for humans?
The following flounder, mimic octopus, seal babies and adult seals, metamorphosis of salamanders, reed frogs, etc. all involve very interesting knowledge points and associations. I really like the lesson that the flounder mother gave to the little flounder: “If you spend all your days lying on the ocean floor, your eyes will move to the top of your head.” — This is indeed an interesting “metamorphosis” phenomenon. Does this remind you of “lying flat”?
What surprised me most was the confession of the reed frog: “I grew up as a girl, and one day I woke up and I was a boy! At first I found it very confusing, but now I’m cool with it.” — This contains scientific truth and is a perfect combination of the natural characteristics of animals and literary metaphors.
So, what choices will the natural bad guy “Wolf”, who is inspired by (but not simply judged by) these animal companions, make?
This book deals with quite complex topics in a way that is easy for children to accept: identity, body changes, the eyes of others, self-acceptance… As a book review on Amazon said, “It celebrates diversity through humor and helps children understand differences.”
Stephen Smith’s illustrations are one of the most eye-catching highlights of this book. His art style is based on bold, bright colors and high contrast, creating a strong visual impact. He uses mixed media techniques and combines multiple art forms to make each illustration rich in layers and three-dimensionality. The whole book is a combination of pop and comic styles, and with the light tone of the story, it is especially suitable for reading with children to explore the relevant animal knowledge behind it, and there is also a certain space for adult interpretation.
I know that it is not easy for the Chinese version to keep the title “天生大坏蛋”! The word “坏 — bad” seems to be difficult to use in the title of a book now. In fact, this book is particularly suitable for use in the classroom to discuss topics such as “self-awareness” and “the diversity of good and evil” with children. By the way, you can also expand some interesting (and a little unpopular) animal knowledge.
My favorite part of the book is the words that the salamander said at the end to encourage the wolf:
“Everyone’s friends in this room”, said Salamander. “We won’t judge you.”
To accept your true self, you need courage, but you also need a truly friendly environment.
I finished reading a new book by Leonard S. Marcus over the weekend: “Earthrise: The Story of the Photograph That Changed the Way We See Our Planet”
This book was just released in the U.S. on March 4, 2025. It’s available on Kindle, and the title could be translated into Chinese as 《地球升起：一张改变人类视野的照片》. The term Earthrise is quite interesting — it parallels Sunrise and Moonrise, which would suggest translating it as “地出” (like “日出”), but that sounds odd. Translating it as “地球崛起” (like Rise of the Planet of the Apes) would be strange too. So I’d say just go with “地球升起,” which reflects the original name of the iconic photo featured on the cover.
Earthrise cover
As a children’s book historian, Marcus has written several history books for young readers. Earthrise follows the same narrative approach as his previous work, “Mr. Lincoln Sits for His Portrait” (2023) — using a single famous photograph as an entry point to explore the deeper historical context behind it.
To put it simply, Earthrise tells the story of the iconic photo taken on Christmas Eve, 1968, during the Apollo 8 mission by astronaut Bill Anders as he orbited the Moon. This photo shows the Earth rising over the Moon’s horizon — one of the most consequential and widely viewed images in human history. Marcus unpacks the story behind this photo, combining vivid details, historical context, and personal perspectives to reveal how it changed humanity’s understanding of our place in the universe.
Marcus is a master storyteller. He opens the book with a compelling idea: this photo changed how we see ourselves and our planet. From there, he skillfully unravels a narrative full of tension and conflict — starting with the Cold War space race, including the Soviet Union’s launch of the first satellite, Sputnik; Yuri Gagarin becoming the first human in space; and President Kennedy’s declaration of the Moon landing goal. Marcus maintains a brisk, engaging pace, punctuating the narrative with rare historical images and detailed accounts of the personal sacrifices made by the astronauts and their families.
Interestingly, Marcus begins the book by referring to the “Sputnik moment” — a term that has recently resurfaced in the wake of DeepSeek’s success. Some Western media outlets have described DeepSeek’s breakthrough as a new “Sputnik moment.” But what does this really mean for humanity? Marcus’s account of the original “Sputnik moment” invites us to reflect on how technological rivalry can drive both competition and cooperation — just as the Cold War space race eventually gave way to space collaboration in the 1970s.
How exactly did Earthrise change humanity’s view of the world — even our worldview? I recall that a global historian once suggested that we could try to rewrite human history from the perspective of standing on the Moon and looking back at Earth.
Bill Anders, the astronaut who took the iconic photo, famously said:
“We came all this way to explore the Moon, and the most important thing is that we discovered the Earth.”
This was a completely new perspective. For the first time, humanity saw Earth not as a vast, endless expanse — but as a small, fragile, and beautiful planet. It inspired humility and awe.
Marcus also pointed out that the “Earthrise” photo made people feel the uniqueness and preciousness of the Earth. The visual impact of viewing the Earth from the lunar orbit prompted people to have a strong “home consciousness” and rethink the definition of “home”. Another astronaut, Jim Lovell, could completely cover the Earth by blocking the window with his fingers. This simple action made him deeply feel the smallness and loneliness of the Earth:
” Just think, over five billion people, everything I ever knew was behind my thumb.”
Earthrise is not just a photograph; it’s a metaphor. It reminds humanity that we are all passengers on “Spaceship Earth,” a fragile and limited vessel that we must protect together. The idea of “Spaceship Earth” sharpened humanity’s awareness of limited resources and environmental vulnerability. It reinforced the idea that we are not just citizens of individual nations, but members of a shared global community with a collective responsibility.
One of my favorite lines from the book comes from Jim Lovell’s realization: “Then I remembered a saying I often heard: ‘I hope I go to Heaven when I die.’ I suddenly realized that I went to Heaven when I was born! I arrived on a planet with the proper mass to have the gravity to contain water and an atmosphere, the essentials for life. I arrived on a planet orbiting a star at just the right distance to absorb that star’s energy—energy that caused life to evolve in the beginning.”
Yes, people on Earth imagine that Heaven is such a wonderful place, but in fact, we have been in Heaven since the moment we were born!
Many people think that the Earth is not so good anymore and are ready to migrate to other planets, but think about it, which planet is more suitable for “Earthlings” than Earth? Instead of trying to migrate, it is better to try not to destroy the Earth, right?
Having followed Marcus’s work for some time, I think the core message of Earthrise is this:
Earthrise is not just a famous photograph — it’s a symbol that reminds humanity to re-evaluate the planet we inhabit. It reveals Earth’s isolation and uniqueness in the universe and challenges us to embrace a mindset of global care, peace, and sustainability.
Think about it, if people stay in a village for their whole lives, the people in the village on the other side of the river may be “enemies”. But if you run a thousand kilometers away and look back, the people in the next village are “fellow villagers”. When fellow villagers meet, their eyes are filled with tears. If people stay in the same country for their whole lives, is there a similar situation? When we have the opportunity to turn a few somersaults and run to space hundreds of thousands of miles away, the people in the “enemy country” become neighbors and fellow villagers. When we meet, won’t our eyes be filled with tears?
How do we see the world, how do we see ourselves? — It depends on where you stand.
Finally, I’d like to note the book’s dedication (which I almost missed):
“In Memory of Amy Schwartz—Shining Light, Beautiful Spirit”
Amy Schwartz (April 2, 1954 – February 26, 2023) was Marcus’s late wife. The dedication carries a quiet yet profound sense of loss and remembrance — a reminder that, just as humanity must cherish the Earth, we must also treasure the people and memories that give meaning to our lives.
The original text was written in Chinese on March 8, 2010, as a postscript to Leo Lionni’s series of translations, and was also published on Sina Blog.
Over the past year or so, Leo Lionni has occupied a very important position in my life. I often repeat what he said, put one or two of his books in my bag wherever I go, and search for all the information about him whenever I think of him… But more often, I will stare at the pages where he wrote and drew for a long time, thinking absentmindedly: What on earth is this guy trying to say here?
I feel very lucky to have translated nine of Lionni’s picture books in more than a year. It is very satisfying to have in-depth exchanges with this master in this way. As the translation work is coming to an end, the editor asked me to write a little about Lionni, but for a long time I didn’t know where to start. Everything about Leo Lionni is there, in his books: the little black fish, Alfred, Cornelius, Matthew, Alexander… They are all him, what else is there to say? I will talk about some anecdotes in Lionni’s life — mainly those that have had some influence on my understanding in translation.
On a warm day about thirty years ago, in a farmhouse in Tuscany, Italy, an old man in his seventies was chatting with someone on the phone, but his mind gradually wandered, and he was seen scribbling on a notepad. The drawing looked like the graffiti of naughty children. It was roughly a lizard, and it looked like a crocodile when you looked left and right, but from the perspective of natural science, it was neither, because it was a reptile that walked upright! It is said that this is how Lionni’s “Cornelius” the Crocodile was first created.
When I first came across this book, I wanted to translate Cornelius as “鳄鱼小克 Crocodile Little K”, perhaps children would like it more. But as I learned more about Lionni, this name seemed to have a deeper meaning. On the surface, it is just similar to crocodile, but if you think about it carefully, it is a common name in Italy, and the most famous one is usually translated as Cornelius, a centurion in the New Testament of the Bible, and the first non-Jew to convert to Christianity. Is this just a coincidence? To be honest, I don’t know, but I think it’s better to keep the name Cornelius for this unique crocodile, and leave the judgment of whether it is a coincidence to the readers.
Italy is Lionni’s second home.
He set foot on this land when he was 15 years old. Before that, he went to high school in Philadelphia, USA for one or two years, and even earlier in Amsterdam, his hometown in the Netherlands. He completed his studies in Italy and obtained a doctorate in economics from the University of Genoa with a thesis on the jewelry trade. Although he was better at painting and designing, it was not difficult for him to complete such a thesis because his father was a jewelry designer and a Sephardic Jew.
At the age of 16, he met his other half, Nora Maffei, there. Five years later, they got married and stayed together for life. His father-in-law was one of the founders of the Italian Communist Party. When Leo met Nora, Mr. Maffei had been under house arrest and imprisoned because the Italian Communist Party was being persecuted by Mussolini’s dictatorship. This political situation had a strong impact on Leo, because not long ago he was still playing basketball freely in a middle school in Philadelphia.
Still in Italy, Leo began his career as an artist and designer. His slightly manic paintings in his youth were highly regarded by the leading futurist poet Marinetti, and were recommended to tour around Italy. He was even hailed as “the direct descendant of the aerodynamic painting school” and “a great futurist.” Although he never thought so, he believed that he was closer to the Dutch De Stijl and was a genuine Bauhausist in terms of design concepts. This style was vividly displayed in Lioni’s first picture book, Little Blue and Little Yellow, and his late work, The Dream of Matthew, may be a more direct interpretation of his artistic pursuit. In that story, the sweetheart (later wife) of the mouse artist Matthew was named Nicoletta, who was also full of Italian flavor.
When the Nazis took control of Italy, Leo, who was half Jewish, had to leave with his wife and children and go to the United States across the ocean, where he achieved amazing success. But about 20 years later, he still decided to come back and settle down again, as if this was the land he had been dreaming of.
When Leo Lionni was nearly 50 years old, he was already successful. He had been famous in the advertising design industry for a long time. Later, he served as an Art director in the printing and magazine industries. The most famous one was that he served as the design director of Fortune magazine for ten years. During this period, he also held his own personal exhibitions and design exhibitions in Europe, Japan and the United States many times. He once served as the president of the American Society of Graphic Arts and served as the chairman of the 1953 International Design Conference. In addition, he had a bunch of titles that were too numerous to count. But at this time, he decided to resign, take a break for a while, and then move to Italy. It is said that he has signed a contract to do design for a small magazine there, who knows what the name is! At least compared with his situation in the United States, the salary of the new position will be reduced to a negligible amount. People around Lionni were shocked: Is this guy mentally ill?
During this period, a story that is well known to many readers who love Lionni’s picture books happened. During a short train trip, Lionni told stories to his 5‑year-old grandson and 3‑year-old granddaughter using blocks of color torn from magazines. The wonderful story won the hearts of the children, and after some sorting and production, it became the classic “Little Blue and Little Yellow”. From then on, Lionni had another identity: a master of children’s picture books. This seems to be a purely accidental event, but it is a natural outcome for this artist who is slowing down and re-examining his life. He closed a window, and another door opened to him.
Lionni’s picture book editor described his life and creation in this way: Lionni divides his life into two worlds. He usually stays in a farm in Tuscany, Italy in spring and summer, and comes to New York in autumn and winter. Most of his picture books are completed in a farmhouse very close to nature, and he gets inspiration from this natural world. It is said that the inspiration for “Swimmy” came from a pool of minnows there, and the prototype of the field mouse Frederick originally appeared in his garden. The little field mouse poet always meditates on his own, collecting sunlight, colors and words, and when it is special, it gives people warmth and magic in a special way. That is another state of existence, perhaps one that is closer to the essence. Is this what Lionni collected in spring and summer and brought to New York in winter?
His editor was very impressed that Leo seemed to have not been influenced by the traditional children’s book industry in his picture book creation, and the relationship between him and the editor was also unique. Leo was naturally willing to tell the editor what ideas his next book might be based on, but no one knew the specific content of the book until he took the finished book to the publisher. Leo was very confident that his nearly perfect creations could surprise everyone, and in fact, it was true every time. The artist and design master even designed the fonts. He always chose a very old-fashioned font (Century Schoolbook) because he felt that this printed font was most easily recognizable to children. As for what font size to choose and where to put it on the page, the designer had already carefully arranged it.
People often talk more about Lionni’s paintings, but he is also very particular about words. Editors praised him as the “Aesop of the 20th century”. In addition to praising the profound meaning of his stories, they also praised his concise, clear and poetic words. Although the words in his picture books can be read or understood by children directly, they are not the kind of tone that is specifically spoken to children, because his stories are told to everyone. When I repeatedly ponder the seemingly simple words written by Lionni, sometimes I feel that they are quite old-fashioned, more like European English than American English. Its strict grammar is a model, but its choice of words is very personal. He does not seem to choose some common words as a matter of course, but prefers to choose some more original and interesting words with more symbolic meanings.
Once, in a conversation with the Japanese publisher Mr. Tadashi Matsui about Leo Lionni’s picture books, he offered two fascinating insights. First, he believed that all of Lionni’s books revolve around a single fundamental question: “Who am I?” Second, Lionni had studied a branch of Hinduism in depth, which had a significant influence on his creative work. The first insight, in particular, greatly helps us understand Lionni’s body of work as a whole. For example, Little Blue and Little Yellow can be seen as a story of the dissolution and reformation of the self; Swimmy is about a leader within a collective; Cornelius is a pioneer ahead of his time; Frederick is a poet with magical powers; Matthew’s Dream tells of an artist discovering both the world and himself. And stories like Alexander and the Wind-Up Mouse, A Color of His Own, and Fish Is Fish all depict a journey toward self-recognition. When you think about it carefully, each of these characters is, in one way or another, a reflection of Lionni himself.
As for the second insight, I have yet to find any in-depth materials about it. However, from a different perspective, some who practice yoga have come to regard Lionni’s works as spiritual readings. Books like “Frederick” and “A Color of His Own” are even included on recommended lists of “yoga books.” Re-reading “Frederick” from this new angle, the message does seem to resonate—it encourages readers to seek peace and happiness within themselves, rather than relying entirely on the material world around them.
No matter how the adult world elevates Leo Lionni, children have their own opinions about him. They are fascinated by Leo Lionni’s works and deeply love the protagonists in those stories.
An American writer and educator named Vivian Paley wrote a book called “The Girl with the Brown Crayon” (the Chinese edition is titled “A Year of Reading Picture Books Together” — 《共读绘本的一年》), in which she recounts how she, as a kindergarten teacher, spent over a year sharing Leo Lionni’s works with her students. It all began with a little girl named Reeny, who was utterly captivated by “Frederick”. To her, nothing else mattered—not beyond Frederick and his creator, Leo Lionni. Vivian and the entire class read all 14 Lionni books available in the kindergarten library, and even that wasn’t enough. So they read them again, acted them out, drew pictures, and talked—every day—about Lionni, about Frederick, Cornelius, Swimmy, Tico the bird… And just like that, a whole year passed. Looking back, it felt like a dream—a very sweet dream. When Leo Lionni passed away in 1999, Reeny, who was by then in fifth grade, called Vivian. She said she missed Lionni terribly, and she missed those days when it felt like everyone was together with him. As she spoke, sadness crept into her voice. Vivian wanted to comfort her, and suddenly remembered a question they had once discussed in class: among all of Lionni’s characters, which one “was” Leo Lionni himself? The children had debated the question for a long time. Frederick received the most votes, followed by Cornelius, but no one was entirely sure. Vivian had promised them she would ask Lionni in person one day. And later, she actually did—but by then, those children had already moved on from kindergarten.
Vivian brought up the matter again, and Reeny immediately became excited.
“Did he tell you?” She held her breath and dared not say another word.
“I was visiting him in New York at the time. He walked over to a stack of his own books, picked up Swimmy, and with a brown crayon, he drew a big circle around Swimmy. Then he drew a horizontal line beneath it. Finally, on that line, he wrote a single large word: Me. That was Leo Lionni himself.”
“Nobody thought of the black fish,” Renee yelled. “But we should have, right? I mean, because we were just like those other little fish, we were always around him. He could take us anywhere. He made us feel like a big, big fish—stronger together.”
She laughed with a triumphant smile. “Of course—he was Swimmy.”
English 
简体中文