Children's Book Reviews: Week of 4/2/2007

Sherry, whose nature-themed, silk-screened apparel has won plaudits from Lucky magazine and other fashion arbiters, makes a winning book debut with this story of a squid with a fondness for braggadocio. "I'm a giant squid and I'm big," announces the cartoony blue hero, whose adorable googly eyes and pointy head defuse any taint of arrogance. In quick order and punchy sentences, the squid enumerates all the species he outranks in the ocean, size-wise (each statement and its accompanying illustration gets a spread): "I'm bigger than these clams./ I'm bigger than this crab." So outsize is this squid's ego that when the food chain kicks in, and he suddenly finds himself inside the belly of a whale (along with numerous other aquatic creatures), he's only temporarily nonplussed (indicated by several wordless spreads). "I'm the biggest thing in this whale!" he proudly declares at the end. Working in collage and watercolor, Sherry renders his hero and habitat in bright colors and bold, simple shapes that will be surefire eye magnets for preschoolers (and stickers featuring the characters enhance bathtub fun). The squid's unwavering sense of confidence should strike a loud and strong chord with youngsters who believe they're the center of the universe. Ages 3-up. (May)

The thing that may distinguish this perky little story for older readers from a Swiss team is the remarkable resemblance of its alligators to the protagonists of Alligators All Around. It's as if Maurice Sendak's alligator family, with their funny hats and crooked smiles, had emigrated to the sewers of New York and spawned grandchildren and great-grandchildren. In Federspiel's English-language debut, an enterprising kid in a red baseball cap named Mike offers refuge in Florida to 330 sewer-dwelling alligators, and pulls off a plan to ship them there. (When he worries about how to get above ground again to make the arrangements, his guide assures him, "There's a service entrance.") Despite some excess creativity—five creatures to lead Mike through the sewers when one would have been fine, and an invented feud between two alligator factions that plays clunkily—the escape from Manhattan is believably financed by treasure which has fallen through drainpipes ("Jewels, gold coins, walking sticks, silk shawls...") and Mike's natural boyishness makes a nice contrast to his surreal surroundings. Rappo's blocky figures, sunny colors and canny pacing form a good portion of the book's charm. Hitting a pleasing balance of action, imagination and urban legend, Federspiel's tale will brighten youngsters' bedtimes. Ages 3-up. (Mar.)

The unnamed narrator of Baryshnikov's buoyant foray into picture books assures his audience, "I love my grandma, really, but she just always embarrasses me." She leaps over neighbors, imitates the dog asleep with its paws in the air, and pretends to skate like the narrator's friend Maria—without having skates on. "See what I mean?" he asks plaintively. Grandma's one-word answer to questions about her behavior is always "because...," until the final spread, where she completes the thought: "Because... I-am-a-dancer!" Though the boy begins by rather glumly recounting a week in his life with Grandma, the illustrations eventually betray him, as he tries a jeté himself, smiling at her encounter with some break dancers, and finally, a whole-hearted embrace of her sashaying, cartwheeling antics that sends them both flying above the rooftops of their urban neighborhood. Baryshnikov's casual text is perfectly paired with Radunsky's customary off-kilter images. Thickset Grandma, with her ample bosom and large bottom, defies the stereotype of a conventional dancer's physique. (She also defies gravity, as even arching backwards, her straw boater remains firmly stuck to her wiry hair.) The white backgrounds put the focus on the dancers, making them appear as if suspended in air. Grandma's sublime expressions and her pleasure at using her body to convey her happiness is infectious. Roll up the rug before you read this book aloud—it will get everyone up and dancing. Ages 4-8. (May)

With a hi-ho the dairy-o, Palatini (the Bad Boys series) tells the story of just how tempting it is to abandon the "Rules and Regulations" that state "the cheese stands alone" in the dell. Like the familiar song on which the story is based, the narrative introduces the characters one by one—the "scurrying and sneaking" rat, the finicky cat, the dog for whom thinking is "not an easy thing," and a girl and her farmer parents—all of whom eventually decide to ignore the rules. With yet another artistic style, Johnson and Fancher (The Day Ocean Came to Visit) pump up the humor as they cleverly combine cartoon layouts, full-bleed paintings, speech bubbles and textured backgrounds with actual lyrics and music staffs strewn between blades of grass and bits of clothing. The rat in his green checked vest rubs his hands with sniveling worry like Uriah Heep. A sidebar gives "THe Cat's EviDencE" for his estimation of the rat's character. The dog, in his baseball cap with his pink tongue hanging out, is as genial and slow-witted as the story makes him out to be. The surprise ending features the rat ostensibly stealing away the cheese as the other characters prepare for their party snack, but the rat says directly to readers, "Shame on you for what you were thinking. I may be a sneaky rat... but I'm still one big party animal." Ages 4-8. (May)

In Winter's (September Roses) warm story, a Jamaican girl now living in New York City nightly dreams "of my island in the sun." Each morning, when she tells her mother that she wants to go home, Mama responds, "We are home, Angelina." The art's somber palette brightens dramatically as the youngster flashes back to images of her native land. Many spreads juxtapose city images with memories of Jamaica, such as a gray stretch of skyscrapers opposite the heroine's recollection of the beach (e.g., "The tall buildings hide the sun and the sky./ In my dreams the sun warms my head, and the sand warms my feet, and the sky is always blue"). The girl also remembers dancing at Carnival with her friends, their costumes "glowing like fire." When Mama reads about the upcoming Carnival parade in Brooklyn, she takes Angelina to be fitted for a sparkly costume, and the child practices a dance for the festivities. On Carnival day, the music and parade transport Angelina to a place that looks and feels familiar. "I'm home, Mama," she says. "This is my island in the sun," as Winter depicts a Manhattan festooned with green leaves and festive flowers. Youngsters will easily sense—and share—the girl's gradually lightening spirits and final exuberance. Ages 4-8. (May)

The baby rooster knows he has a job to do; he's just clueless as to how to go about it. His barnyard pals offer what they think is good advice, but when his lusty crows of "Cock-A-Doodle-Oink-Oink!" and "Cock-A-Doodle– Quack-Quack!" fail to rouse the farm, it's time to turn to the wise old owl. His suggestion: just listen to what the rooster at the farm next door says and copy that. Busby (Rosie's Zoo) uses bright acrylics and big, reassuring shapes to depict an agricultural enterprise that seems populated wholly by stuffed animals (even the landscape has a cuddly, plush-toy look). The feathered hero is a bit of an odd duck (he hatches wearing purple-polka-dotted long underwear) but he's a spunky little fellow, and it's clear that his comrades like him. The book's primary appeal, however, comes from all the variations of "Cock-a-doodle-doo" that British team Baddiel and Jubb have dreamed up. If the grown-up reading this book aloud has just a smidgen of theatrical presence, the misinformed crows should delight even the most solemn preschooler. But be warned: the little rooster's final false start—"Cock-A-Poodle-Poo!"—may result in paroxysms of laughter. Ages 4-8. (Apr.)

In Weston's (Lucky Socks) cute if rather woolly story, a hen becomes a welcome dinner guest in an unlikely place. When Mommy Fox goes off to find her five little foxes a chicken to eat for supper, she asks them not to leave the den. So of course they do: "They jumped. They romped. They rolled. They tumbled. They crept and leapt." Eventually—as any preschooler could have told them—all this moonlit merriment leads to a major meltdown. Luckily, Mommy Hen discovers the foxes, dries their tears and leads them safely back to their den. Mommy Fox realizes that eating Mommy Hen would be very bad manners indeed, and everyone settles down for a nice pot of vegetable soup. Fatus's (The Story Tree) naïf paintings bubble with a silly winsomeness, and there's a funny bit involving the little foxes' miscounting of one another, which leads them to the hysterical conclusion that one of their number is irretrievably lost. Ages 4-8. (Apr.)

Miles (Magnifico) and Bang (In My Heart) paint a reverent, informative picture of a majestic 24-year-old ursine matriarch raising her last litter of cubs. Readers accompany the bear (based on a real-life deceased grizzly nicknamed Blanche in British Columbia) as she digs a den, gives birth, nurses her three young and teaches them the ways of a remote wilderness. The narrative reads like observations from a naturalist's journal, often with informed speculation. "Wherever their mother went the cubs watched and followed. They padded along ancient grizzly paths where Old Mother had taken all the cubs she'd raised." While the objective, lengthy account with its unobtrusive tone may be better appreciated by older picture book readers, Bang's vibrant oils and chalk illustrations will give younger audience members the feeling they're onlookers in the same woods, watching the "old she-bear" as she teaches and protects her young. Five spreads in the middle of the book zoom in for exciting close-ups of an encounter with a hostile male grizzly. Rectangular inset vignettes within lightly outlined borders often appear within the full-bleed spreads. These scenes-within-a-scene give a more intimate view of the bears' activities (e.g., the vista of a deep blue lake edged with glowing fall foliage and snowcapped mountains contains a smaller portrait of the bear quartet curled up in their den). Audiences will be grateful for this gentle, genuine portrayal of a wilderness giant. Ages 4-8. (Apr.)

O'Connor (Me and Rupert Goody) blends her usual poignancy and insight in another tale set in a small North Carolina town. "The day I decided to steal a dog was the same day my best friend, Luanne Godfrey, found out I lived in a car," begins plucky Georgina. After her father "just waltzed off and left us with nothing but three rolls of quarters and a mayonnaise jar full of wadded-up dollar bills," Georgina, her mother and younger brother, Toby, were evicted from their apartment. The three now sleep in their old Chevy. Since her mother works two jobs, saving up for a place to live, Georgina takes care of Toby after school, while carefree Luanne attends ballet class and Girl Scouts with her new best friend. A poster announcing a $500 reward for a missing dog gives the heroine an idea for helping to secure lodging. She diligently writes in her notebook rules for stealing a dog, but they turn out to be more complicated than she anticipates. The devastated woman whose pet Georgina purloins (and who is not wealthy enough to furnish a reward) and a wise and caring homeless man Georgina meets also affect her plan. Speaking with at times heartbreaking honesty, this likable young narrator convincingly articulates her frustration, resentment and confusion as she comes to her decisions. O'Connor once again smoothly balances challenging themes with her heroine's strength and sense of humor. Ages 8-12. (Apr.)

Allusions to Little Women, sprinkled throughout this contemporary novel, may well pique the interest of Louisa May Alcott buffs. Frederick (the Patience Goodspeed books; the Spy Mice series) alternates the perspectives of Emma, Megan, Cassidy and Jess, members of a mother-daughter book club who are reading Little Women while adjusting to their first year of middle school. Emma, an aspiring writer, has grown apart from her former best friend, Megan, who gained entry into the popular crowd after her father's invention made the family rich. Despite her heightened status, Megan isn't altogether happy, since her mother scorns her dream of becoming a fashion designer. Meanwhile, tomboy Cassidy mourns the loss of her father, who was killed in an accident, and Jess misses her mother, who has gone to New York to pursue an acting career. All of the girls are less enthusiastic about the book club than their parents are, but as might be expected, their attitudes change as they become absorbed in Little Women and its author, who grew up in their hometown of Concord, Mass. The girls' increasing sensitivity to each other's problems is convincing, but the way in which each character finds happiness (during a whirlwind trip to New York City) is more dependent on lucky circumstance than personal achievement. Still, this club's success in uniting a group of disparate sixth-graders may well inspire readers to start one of their own. Ages 9-12. (Apr.)

After saving the world in The Extraordinary Adventures of Alfred Kropp, our regular-guy hero is unceremoniously returned to foster care in Knoxville, Tenn. Hounded at school as a freak, living with wretched "professional" foster parents, Alfred is bored and depressed. He believes he's hit bottom until he is kidnapped, first by rogue OIPEP agent Mike Arnold, then by the Office of Interdimensional Paradoxes and Extraordinary Phenomena itself, at which point his classmates' harassment seems idyllic by comparison. For reasons Alfred doesn't immediately understand, his presence is vitally necessary to foil Arnold, who, after being fired by OIPEP, stole two ancient artifacts from the agency's vault: a ring belonging to King Solomon, and a vessel containing thousands of demons that have been locked inside for 3,000 years (and are really pissed off about it). Teamed with Op Nine, OIPEP's top agent, Alfred heads out on a whirlwind mission to recover the artifacts, traveling to the Sahara, Chicago and home again as the planet erupts in his wake. The emotional core of this novel involves likeable Alfred's unresolved issues about the death of his mother at age 12, and his sense of loss is palpably heartbreaking. The villain Arnold's issues remain far murkier, his motivation subsumed by the same Hollywood action-flick pyrotechnics—explosive showdowns, multiple near-brushes with death—that made the first book a hit with kids who might otherwise be playing video games. Ages 12-up. (May)

With a series of breakneck twists and turns, Jinks's (the Pagan Chronicles) latest novel follows Cadel Piggott, a seven-year-old Australian boy with an incredible mind and a proclivity toward mischief: "He loved systems: phone systems, electrical systems, car engines, complicated traffic intersections." Following a string of disasters, which Cadel engineers (e.g., hacking into the city's power grid), his desperate adoptive parents take him to a psychologist, Dr. Thaddeus Roth. But instead of refocusing Cadel on more positive activities, Dr. Roth encourages the boy to develop increasingly destructive plans, such as orchestrating massive traffic jams and manipulating his classmates' emotions so that they turn on one another. Dr. Roth also stuns Cadel by revealing that he is employed by Cadel's birth father, Dr. Phineas Darkkon, a criminal mastermind serving a life sentence. From prison, Dr. Darkkon established the Axis Institute for the world's genetically talented and criminally inclined. Drs. Roth and Darkkon convince Cadel to join its small freshman class, and Cadel slowly uncovers a conspiracy of lies and betrayals that leave no aspect of his life untouched. Jinks has created an intricate, well-constructed and layered reality in this hefty novel, and as the complex deceptions that have shaped Cadel's life come to light, his emotional unraveling and awakening will likely engross readers. Ages 12-up. (May)

The conflict that fractured Australia in Tomorrow, When the War Began is over, and narrator Ellie Linton (who also narrated Tomorrow) is trying to get back to the farmer's life. But before the first chapter of Marsden's launch title in the Ellie Chronicles is through, her parents are brutally killed by militia from the other side of the new border. From there, though, the story becomes less action-packed than fans of the series have come to expect. Ellie, now alone with her friend Homer and young, impetuous Gavin, faces financial hardship and the possible loss of the farm. She decides to keep the family business going, making an enemy of the executor of her parents' estate. Meanwhile, she learns that Homer is involved in a vigilante organization called Liberation that rescues prisoners of war. When a terrorist group captures Homer during a rescue operation, Ellie's trek to retrieve him marks one of the book's few action sequences. The Tomorrow series attracted a following largely for its fast-paced nature and realistic portrayal of life during wartime. With this new offshoot of the series, Marsden takes his heroine in a more introspective direction, devoting most of the book to birthing calves and farmer's auctions instead of gun battles. It's a poignant and powerful read, but may be a disappointment to those seeking an adrenaline rush. Ages 12-up. (Apr.)

Cooney (The Face on the Milk Carton; Code Orange) fashions a compulsively readable, behind-the-scenes peek into the rise and fall of Lord and Lady Macbeth, told from the points of view of several of the play's minor characters plus a handful of invented ones. As the central tale proceeds inexorably from triumph to betrayal to tragedy, several subplots unfold. Sweet-natured Lady Mary (daughter of the Thane of Cawdor) was sent to learn the domestic arts from elegant but icy Lady Macbeth. Her circumstances take a turn for the worse when her father is declared a traitor to the king, her fiancé dies in battle, and she is offered in marriage to Seyton, Macbeth's henchman, a ruthless man who will do whatever it takes to acquire a fortune. Banquo's son fights in his first battle and then must determine where his loyalties lie when Macbeth's thugs kill his father. Sturdy, independent-minded Swin runs the kitchen with an iron fist but dispenses unexpected kindness on the sly. Meanwhile, embittered Ildred comes to terms with a terrible betrayal and eventually rediscovers a rewarding way to live. These briskly narrated plot lines and more unfold in bite-size scenes, each prefaced by a related quote from the Bard's play. Thus, each of Shakespeare's lines gets enough space so that it can be savored by readers who might otherwise be intimidated by the dense, unfamiliar language. This more human-scale vision offers an easy way in for readers new to the play, and will also reward those familiar with the grand tragedy. Ages 12-up. (Apr.)

This rare and timely memoir tracks Barakat's amazing story of survival, largely through her belief in the power of words to heal: "Stories may inspire us to join hearts and minds so that, with our collective wisdom, a solution for this conflict—and any other—is possible." As this haunting book opens, Israeli soldiers haul Ibtisam, then a teenager, off a bus in the West Bank in 1981 and detain her without explanation. Ibtisam secretly risks these trips out of her village in order to visit a post office box, where she receives letters from international pen pals—her only link to a saner, safer world. While detained, she flashes back to details of the Six-Day War, in poetic yet searing prose. Ibtisam was little more than three years old when her family fled Ramallah in 1967 to a refugee camp in Jordan, and her memory of it, in a chapter called "Shoelaces," brims with tension and emotion. The narrator's understated tone lacks self-pity and thus allows readers to witness her fear and hope. She poignantly relates the Palestinian experience to that of street dogs: "I knew that they were dying and that they had come to our door only because, like us, they were seeking refuge. But instead of understanding, we shot at them, the way the warplanes shot at us." Ibtisam's reverence for language informs nearly everything she does, and it keeps her alive, whether corresponding with her pen pals or crafting this memoir: "a thread/ of a story/ stitches together/ a wound." Ages 12-up. (May)

Writing in an unadorned, journalistic style, Australian writer Vincent recounts the three painful years of her adolescence following the death of both of her parents in an accident. Sandwiched between her older sister Tracy, who is named guardian of the other children, and her much younger brother, Trent, whose memory of his mother and father gradually fades, Erin quietly mourns her loss. At the same time, she struggles with a slew of new, very adult problems: trying to make ends meet and dealing with the resentful attitude of her sister, who is overwhelmed by responsibilities. As the days, months and years go by, Erin's grief surfaces in different ways. She goes through a religious phase (attending church regularly) but eventually gives up on God. At one point, she begins wearing her father's old shirt and a pair of baggy pants to school in place of the traditional uniform. After reading The Bell Jar, she identifies with Sylvia Plath and wonders if she might be better off in an asylum. Her intimate, honest narrative captures both Erin's strength and vulnerability. Rather than trying to answer questions about how to deal with loss, the author expresses the nature of grief, stressing that quick fixes simply do not exist, and there is no predictable sequence to the grieving process. Ages 14-up. (Mar.)