Children's Books: Children's Reviews, Week of 7/24/2006

by Staff -- Publishers Weekly, 7/24/2006

Picture Books

McCarty's (Hondo and Fabian) silvery-white pencil illustrations and unadorned sentences make for an evanescent airplane journey. A vintage twin-engine aircraft (the popular Douglas DC-3, introduced in 1935) soars into fluffy gray-and-white clouds as the book begins. "On the ground/ a small boy/ looks up./ He wonders/ what it would be like/ to be on that flight." Readers see a boy with a dandelion puff of light hair, knee-deep in fuzzy lichen-gray grass, then inside the plane, gazing out the window with a look of wonderment. The plane passes over an olive-gold convertible and "a train/ speeding down the tracks," allowing for another '30s reference to the famous Santa Fe Super Chief passenger line. This is no ordinary voyage, however, because the mysterious plane "would fly into/ outer space." McCarty shows it leaving Earth's orbit and gliding over a cratered but soft-focus Moon surface. The young passenger, in luminous astronaut gear, steps out and takes some weightless hops before climbing back aboard. In a haunting image whose layout recalls Andrew Wyeth's Christina's World, the child runs home through the soft grass, then into the arms of his mother, who has been taking laundry off the line as an airplane flies high above. McCarty's narrative unfolds in a whisper, with quiet words and cushiony layers of soothing gray. Despite a potentially exciting blastoff, the classic machines never sputter or roar, and every detail seems well-insulated in reverie. This bedtime story for flight fans has the loft of a goose-down pillow. Ages 3-6. (Sept.)

Jenkins (That New Animal) extols the limitless love of parents in her accounting of the numerous patience-stretching antics of young children, which may appeal more to the caregiver than the child. "Love you when you pour cereal on the floor./ And when you ask for every toy in the whole store,/ one after the other." This observant tally of misdeeds ranges from small annoyances, such as interrupting, to larger misdemeanors like putting crayons in the dryer or spreading jam on the computer. The same mother and child—two white, upright cats with wide, deep-set blue eyes and outsize ears—feature in illustrations that Ruzzier (The Room of Wonders) fans will quickly recognize. His earthtone colors and spare backdrops fill small, uneven portholes, surrounded by white space. What the slightly offbeat paintings lack in the warm and fuzzy department is made up for in the book's reassuring message and wry humor (e.g., one spread reads, "Love you when you paint the walls..."—a turn of the page reveals, "and the dog"). The quirky art and missing first-person pronoun confer a subtly avant-garde quality, while the tone evokes a parent heaving an exhausted sigh. But the mother's love never wavers and culminates with a big hug and comforting tuck-in scene. "Love you, always. Yes, I do." Youngsters will smile at both the kitten's tolerance-testing tricks and also the knowledge that a parent's devotion will withstand a bit of a whine and other transgressions. Ages 3-6. (Sept.)

Schwartz's (Oscar: The Big Adventure of a Little Sock Monkey, reviewed June 26) spry story introduces a pony-tailed gal with oodles of personality and an answer for everything. Jenna, sporting a flowered frock, sets out for the market and meets a baby elephant, who tells her she has "a very funny trunk." Jenna insists, "I am not an elephant. I am a big girl and this is my nose." When the elephant asks her if she uses her nose as he uses his trunk (a series of images across the spread demonstrate the fellow picking up peanuts and spraying water on his back), Jenna cites a trio of things for which she does use her nose: smelling daisies and roses, freshly baked cookies and her mother when they hug. The elephant proclaims her "a very nice girl with a very nice nose," and asks if he can accompany her to market. Joining them in turn are a robin (inquiring about the girl's strange beak), a fly (wondering where her 100 eyes are) and a goldfish (calling her ears "goofy gills"), who are intrigued to learn what Jenna does with her mouth, eyes and ears. As she specifies how she uses her senses, readers get a heartwarming glimpse of Jenna's life with her loving parents, baby sibling and pooch. In an endearing denouement, the engaging entourage reaches the market, where Jenna purchases a treat for everyone. Ages 3-6. (Aug.)

Two-time Caldecott winner Wiesner (Tuesday; The Three Pigs) crafts another wordless mystery, this one set on an ordinary beach and under an enchanted sea. A saucerlike fish's eye stares from the exact center of the dust jacket, and the fish's scarlet skin provides a knockout background color. First-timers might not notice what's reflected in its eye, but return visitors will: it's a boxy camera, drifting underwater with a school of slim green fish. In the opening panels, Wiesner pictures another close-up eye, this one belonging to a blond boy viewing a crab through a magnifying glass. Visual devices—binoculars and a microscope in a plastic bag—rest on a nearby beach towel, suggesting the boy's optical curiosity. After being tossed by a wave, the studious boy finds a barnacle-covered apparatus on the sand (evocatively labeled the "Melville Underwater Camera"). He removes its roll of film and, when he gets the results, readers see another close-up of his wide-open, astonished eye: the photos depict bizarre undersea scenes (nautilus shells with cutout windows, walking starfish-islands, octopi in their living room à la Tuesday's frogs). A lesser fantasist would end the story here, but Wiesner provides a further surprise that connects the curious boy with others like him. Masterfully altering the pace with panel sequences and full-bleed spreads, he fills every inch of the pages with intricate, imaginative watercolor details. New details swim into focus with every rereading of this immensely satisfying excursion. Ages 5-8. (Sept.)

As they did in I Stink! and I'm Mighty!, these creative collaborators introduce a spunky anthropomorphic character—in this case a backhoe loader who relishes his dirty work. "Who's got a boom, a dipper stick, and a bucket with a row of chompers? Me! And that's just my rear end," he announces proudly. After a flatbed truck carries him to a lot filled with discarded items, the backhoe digs in with gusto, providing an alliterative countdown as he cleans up 10 torn-up truck tires, nine fractured fans, eight busted beach umbrellas, etc. "Hope ya like noise," he says gleefully, as he drops his load in a dumpster, creating quite a din ("Clank! Bang! Bong! Clunk!"). The cheerful, chatty fellow then uproots a tree stump ("Aw Stumpie—loosen up") and fills in the hole, a job he deems a "piece of cake. Make that a mud cake with dirt sprinkles and a scoop of Rocky Road." After taking a mud bath and flattening out the lot, the machine, much to his delight, is dirty indeed. Energetic illustrations capture these mucky goings-on with a large dollop of humor, as type of varying sizes cavorts playfully across the pages. Abundant sound effects make this a high-spirited read-aloud. Ages 4-8. (Sept.)

Fourteen picture book creators try their hands on an age-old question in this intermittently funny compendium. Each participant faces the challenge in a full-bleed spread. Some take a wordless approach. Jerry Pinkney pictures an elaborate picnic; a ruffled hen in a bonnet crosses a country lane as a hare checks its pocketwatch and a squirrel and box turtle sip tea around a gingham tablecloth. Chris Sheban anthropomorphizes his chickens less quaintly: baseball-playing birds exchange a glance in regard to a freshly broken window and their escape route. Other artists pair a picture and punch line. Mo Willems, no stranger to birdy humor, imagines cops interrogating a sweaty hen ("I just did it to get to the other side! Honest!"). Harry Bliss demands that readers "Ask the mutated zombie chickens from Mars!" and shows drooling, bloodshot-eyed leghorns in pursuit of a live one. Lynn Munsinger's straightforward reply ("Because the light said 'walk' ") headlines a commanding scene of city chickens shopping, rollerblading, flapping to work and cackling on cell phones. The best responses, like Munsinger's, include unpredictable details that invite lingering. Otherwise, this is a very fast read, notable more for its guest stars than their contributions (the assembled creators make light remarks in a "Why did the artist cross the road?" afterword, and the book includes a poster). Few of the entries lay an egg, but no one provides a definitive response—except perhaps Chris Raschka's ink-wash sphinx, who intones, "You tell me." Ages 4-up. (Sept.)

In the first half of his story about a feral cave-girl and her canine companion, Wormell (George and the Dragon) eloquently articulates the warring emotions that come with self-reliance: yearnings for mastery and fears of abandonment. He describes the cavegirl's existence in brisk, almost clinical terms: "The little girl had no one to brush her hair, or wash her face, or tie her shoelaces like you do. So her hair was a terrible mess and her face quite grubby." Expansively rendered full-spread paintings underscore her vulnerability, placing her in an indifferent, lunar-like wilderness. But in spot illustrations akin to sketches from an anthropologist's notebook, Wormell beautifully showcases her competence. The confident girl sports an animal skin, expertly wields a handmade spear and eats bugs without blanching. This powerful immersion in an abandoned child's life goes awry, however, when Wormell attempts to steepen its dramatic arc. The heroine discovers that a mother bear has left a tiny cub inside her cave, and that the girl has come between them. Is it possible that being alone is not the girl's fate after all? The answer to that question, though framed by a visually dramatic snowstorm and intended to reassure, abruptly shifts the narrative from a realistic survival story into a fairytale with a happy ending (in which bear, cub, girl and canine curl up together). Ages 4-up. (Sept.)

Deftly blending surefire ingredients—nostalgia, father-son bonding and on-field action—Bildner's (Shoeless Joe & Black Betsy) story tells of the 1958 championship NFL game between the New York Giants and the Baltimore Colts, played at Yankee Stadium. But before kickoff, the author provides plenty of compelling pre-game background. After Sam's father loses his factory job, he finds new work with longer hours, and he and his son can no longer attend the games of their beloved New York Giants baseball team. Then comes the devastating news that the Giants are relocating to California. Sam, who sells newspapers at a local store, begins reading about the "other" New York Giants and follows their games on the radio, but Pop appears to have no interest in football. When Sam's boss must let him go, he hands the lad tickets to the championship game, and thus treats father and son to the sports event of a lifetime (despite the fact that the Giants end up losing in sudden-death overtime). Sam also discovers that his father knows far more about these Giants than he has let on. Bildner's informative afterword emphasizes the significance of this game in football history, especially its role in kicking the sport into the national spotlight. Pullen (The Toughest Cowboy) nicely showcases the big names of the era (Unitas and Berry, Gifford and Huff, etc.). An intriguing balance of realism and caricature, his artwork scores a win, especially with its evocations of the ingenuous protagonist's profound emotions. Ages 5-up. (Aug.)

Fiction

In an alluring companion novel that some readers may argue even surpasses Ella Enchanted, Levine gives a visionary rendering of the Snow White tale that challenges conventional ideas of beauty. Fifteen-year-old narrator Aza is anything but pretty. In fact, she is so unsightly that her loving innkeeper parents (who found Aza abandoned as a baby) keep her hidden from most of their guests. However, Aza possesses two special gifts and when, through a series of events, she winds up in the royal court, her talents draw notice. She has a stunning singing voice (something prized among her fellow Ayorthaians), and she has the ability to throw her voice, so that it appears that someone else is singing (a talent that comes in handy when the vocally challenged queen is asked to sing in public). After Aza is made lady-in-waiting, she discovers a magic mirror that has the power to make her the fairest in the land. But becoming a raving beauty brings more heartache than joy—and could even cost Aza her life. Readers will instantly fall in love with the heroine, whose heart proves to be as warm as her voice. They will eagerly follow Aza's circuitous journey, one that leads to a tribe of gnomes (who may be distant relatives), lures Aza into a deadly trap and eventually brings her back to court, where she reunites with the man she adores, a prince who recognizes her inner beauty. Ages 8-14. (Sept.)

Funke reaches out to newly independent readers with this first-in-a-series installment about beleaguered nine-year-old Tom, who bests his nasty older sister, Lola, by honing his ghosthunting skills. Sent to the cellar for orange juice, Tom, a 'fraidy cat, encounters an ASG, (Averagely Spooky Ghost), who nearly scares him out of his skin. No one in his family believes him except his sympathetic grandmother who "listened to him without constantly frowning—unlike his parents." Grandma also has a friend, Hetty Hyssop, who specializes in spectral exorcisms. Turns out that the ASG is being bullied himself, cast out of his familiar haunt by the IRG of the title. Tom and Hetty conspire to put things right and give Lola her due, too. The story is not really funny enough to appeal to kids who want humor, and not scary enough to raise goosebumps; the text tends to rely on exclamation points to inject excitement. Funke's half-tone illustrations add appeal for readers just getting the hang of chapter books but, overall, this is a somewhat pedestrian offering from the talented creator of Inkheart and The Thief Lord. Ages 7-10. (Aug.)

Carter's (Crescent Moon) loosely connected short stories follow the on- and off-the-field travails of some members of the Argyle West high school football team (in Wisconsin), and the girls who love them. Tight end Kenneth Bauer and his girlfriend, Sarah, who edits the Purple Cow Literary Magazine, appear in several stories and are upstanding students, but even those less likely to succeed get their day in the sun here: "Big Chicago," a tough-looking transfer student stands up to bullies picking on an autistic teen and, as a result, finds he's valued for more than just his blocking abilities. Mouthy feminist Shauna, who loudly decries the sexist tradition of players signalling their "chosen female" by leaving their practice jersey on the girl's desk on game day, comes around when good guy Lenny leaves his jersey on her desk. Even the teachers come off as caring and conscientious. (The only irredeemable character, in fact, is the quarterback, whose fatal flaw is egocentrism.) There are no drugs in this school, the violence is restricted to knocking heads together on the field, and the sex limited to necking. The quaint and gently humorous goings-on makes these stories appropriate for even young middle schoolers as, despite the title, the thread that ties these stories together is neither love nor football but doing the right thing. Argyle High emerges as a safe, friendly and mostly fun place to go to school. Ages 12-up. (July)

Rosoff's (How I Live Now) intriguing, stylized novel explores the nature of fate and one teen's attempt to escape his own destiny. After witnessing his baby brother's brush with death, 15-year-old David Case becomes obsessed with his own mortality and decides to trick fate—and thus prolong his life—by changing his identity. He renames himself Justin Case, exchanges his wardrobe for thrift-shop clothes and befriends an imaginary greyhound, but his efforts to become someone else do not prove effective in quelling his fear that something horrific lies just around the corner. In the meantime, an eccentric young woman photographer discovers him and (much to the hero's horror) turns him into a poster child for "doomed youth." An omniscient, third-person narrative coupled with brief commentaries from all-seeing Fate give the story a surrealistic if not allegorical quality. Children seem older and wiser than their years; adults—especially Justin's mother, who is shockingly blasé about the alterations in her son—are cast as naïve and out of touch. Geared to mature readers with a philosophical bent and an appreciation of irony, the novel shows how, by focusing on his inevitable end, Justin Case almost misses the opportunity to enjoy the gifts fate has to offer: namely, survival, love and friendship. Ages 14-up. (Aug.)

Australian author Burton's engrossing first novel delves into the psyches of three teenage girlfriends during their last year of high school. Nat, one of two narrators, neatly divides people into two categories, the swimmers ("always knowing where they're headed") and the drifters ("They don't sink, and they don't swim"). Not knowing what she wants to do after graduation, Nat considers herself to be a drifter until she falls in love with Josh, a fellow employee at a health food restaurant. However, the relationship is not destined to last. Meanwhile, Lise, the second narrator, whom Nat deems a "swimmer," is much less stable than her determined, focused personality suggests. After becoming a vegetarian, she takes her dieting to an extreme, and her friends start to wonder if she is becoming anorexic. Alternating the two girls' points of view, Burton skillfully captures universal doubts and insecurities that are a part of growing up as both girls struggle with obsessions. Nat and Lise emerge as clearly defined, vulnerable characters whose hurt and anxieties will be strongly felt. Their close friend Sofia, who exudes confidence and common sense, provides a comical and refreshing contrast to her more introspective pals. Although psychologically intense, the book remains optimistic, hinting in the end that the girls will overcome their obstacles even as they choose different paths. Ages 12-up. (July)

Lipsyte's (The Contender) latest sports drama is a riveting and chilling look inside contemporary high school football, starring captain and wide receiver Matt Rydek. Matt's intense focus on winning a scholarship is driven in equal measure by his love of the game and his desire to escape from his maniacal father. As the novel opens, the local gym owner injects a syringe of "all-pro cocktail" into Matt's buttocks. Steroids use, however, is not the most frightening aspect of the book. The real action begins during the last week of football camp, before the start of the season. Nearmont High's coaches are excited by the arrival of Chris Marin, a talented sophomore transfer student. Less thrilled is Matt's co-captain, Ramp, a brutish homophobe, whose starting position Chris could win. On the last night of camp, the traditional hazing turns into a sexual assault, which all the seniors witness. The adults, fearing scandal, hear rumors but adopt a "don't ask, don't tell" policy, mirroring their stance on steroid use. As co-captain, Matt knows he would risk everything—his friends, his senior season, his future—if he goes to authorities. Lipsyte exposes the underbelly of high school sports—where racism, drug use, misogyny and bullying are shrugged off so long as the team wins. Matt has a soul-crushing choice to make and Lipsyte's careful rendering of the world in which Matt moves gives his story an awful and terrifying ring of truth. Ages 14-up. (July)

When Reed leaves her troubled Pennsylvania home and begins posh Easton Academy as a scholarship student, she immediately attracts the attention of cute senior Thomas Pearson. She also quickly comes to the attention of the popular Billings Girls, who can be nice, mean or indifferent towards her, depending on the day. Reed puts up with their behavior knowing that if she "could just enter that inner sanctum, every door at Easton would open up to me." Keeping up academically proves a challenge, but Reed also faces other tests, such as stealing an exam for the Billings Girls—or figuring out why they warn her about her now-boyfriend, Thomas, who has his own connections to their circle. The set-up seems scripted and the Billings Girls themselves are stereotypical (Noelle is the Alpha girl, Taylor is the brain, etc.), but Reed is more complex than most of this genre's narrators. She has an abusive mother "who likes pills with her bourbon," and admits that her connection to Thomas, the son of alcoholics, is partly due to finding "someone who understood." Of course, when Thomas accuses her of using him to get to the Billings Girls, he is somewhat right about that, too. The conclusion leaves plenty of questions—including where Thomas has disappeared to. Readers will no doubt eagerly await the next installment in Brian's (The Virginity Club) Private series, Invitation Only, due out this fall. Ages 14-up. (July)

Nonfiction

Drawing on meticulous research, Bruchac (Wabi) presents Jim Thorpe's (1887–1953) complex story, focusing on his years at Haskell and Carlisle Indian Schools, as a kind of imagined autobiography. Thorpe excelled at football, baseball and track, winning two gold medals in the 1912 Olympics for the latter. An error-ridden press story stated that he had played summer Class D baseball in North Carolina in 1909 and 1910, earning nominal pay; the piece unleashed a chain of events that culminated in Thorpe signing a proffered "confession" and being stripped of his Olympic honors. By adopting an equanimous, measured voice to serve as Thorpe's first-person narrative, Bruchac shines new light on facets of the Sac and Fox Indian's amateur career, from highlights of Carlisle's wins against college football's greats, to the mishandling of funds endemic at both the Bureau of Indian Affairs and the Indian schools. Bruchac illuminates Thorpe's complicated relationship with his Carlisle football coach, Glenn "Pop" Warner, whose own flaws emerge. (Warner led his winning teams while controlling proceeds from ticket sales and, arguably, Thorpe's amateur status.) In a cogent author's note, Bruchac explains that his research revealed many errors in previous books about Thorpe; and although he calls this a "novelized" account, he quickly points out that "this is not a work of fiction" and "much of the dialogue is taken from research." A selected bibliography and a peppering of period photographs round out an impressive work of scholarship. Ages 10-up. (July)