Children's Book Reviews: Week of 4/9/2007

In a follow-up to the account of her baby girl's adoption from China (I Love You Like Crazy Cakes), Lewis pays tribute to her now school-age daughter by remembering each of her birthdays. The text reads almost like a diary, the entries teeming with emotional and thoughtful observations: "Every year on your birthday, I think about the day you were born, how the sun must have shone, or the moon looked so bright." Expressive watercolors evoke vivid memories, from the patriotic cake marking the girl's American citizenship (at age two), to the joy on the child's face as her kite catches the wind on her third birthday. While the author celebrates their days together (including Chinese festivals), she also points out the moments of her daughter's life before they met. Here, her voice becomes more wistful ("I think about the six Chinese girls who shared a big room with you in China. They knew you before I did"). By story's end, readers see a matured parent, secure in her love for her child. What may have been intended as a memento for her daughter to treasure when she is older, has brought a now-seasoned mother full circle on her own personal journey. Ages 3-6. (May)

Goldberg's (The Bee Season, for adults) elegant text and Sheban's (I Met a Dinosaur) enchanting illustrations in this tale of friendship between a Fisherwoman and the Man in the Moon are not to be missed. The omniscient narrator begins with a page-turning sentence: "Hardly anyone noticed when the Fisherwoman started fishing at night," and the tale develops like a beguiling dream. The moon, intrigued with the Fisherwoman, puts on "his traveling hat" and sunglasses disguise to visit her at home. They have tea together-he brings a sea cucumber sandwich, and another time a moon pie. One night, the Fisherwoman tells her visitor of her plan to reel in the moon and prevent the tides from eroding the village's fishing shacks ("Her bright-eyed guest was very impressed, but he did not share her fondness for fishing hooks"). The gentle humor in both text and images softens the environmental theme. Sheban's palette of cobalt blue and chestnut brown allow him to highlight the radiant moonlight. The round-faced moon's phosphorescent footprints glow like yellow coins on the pier, and he sends the woman a gift that helps her achieve her lofty goal. Like the artwork, Goldberg's text ripples with mystery and singular images: "Now everyone knows that on one night each month, there is no moon: From Iowa to India, the sky is dark, save for its starlight freckles." This elegant book is as captivating as moonlight shimmering on a quiet sea. Ages 4-8. (May)

Snyder's cheery collages add some oomph to this hunt-for-the-word alphabet book from the author behind the Words Are Categorical series. Cleary's rhymes point readers to the more obvious words attached to each letter: "D starts dalmatian,/ a dog who's been/ spotted./ E is for each/ evergreen/ Elvis potted." (Yes, as in the King himself.) A short intro also instructs readers to hunt for other representations of the letters (they'll find "D" on the Dalmatian's collar and an "E"-shaped topiary in Elvis's wheelbarrow), as well as other things not specifically referred to in the verse: dragonfly, daisy, daffodils, eggs. The pictures bubble with color and textures, but they're really more decorative than silly. (one Elvis does not frivolous make). Still, there's much busy, bright fun in these pages, and budding abecedarians should find plenty to charm them. Ages 4-8. (Apr.)

Droll text and playfully hyperbolic art serve up a piggish portion of humor in Polacco's (The Graves Family) tale starring a porcine pet with plenty of personality. Petunia's owner, a "brilliant pianist" who teaches musical prodigies, lives in a "scrumptious home" and wears delightfully flamboyant outfits. Elegant Ginger showers oodles of affection on Petunia, for whom she has installed a mud hole in the backyard, topped by a gazebo to make it "look like a spa." When Ginger is invited to be a guest soloist in London, the sitter she hires to tend to her pampered pet is a no-show, but Petunia takes care of herself-and then some. Disguised in Ginger's eccentric ensembles (which would turn Miss Piggy green with envy), Petunia presides over the prodigies' piano lessons. An inspired spread depicts the porcine impersonator striking the very poses Ginger assumed in an early group of vignettes. Though she wreaks comic havoc as a socialite, Petunia can do no wrong. She knocks over and shatters a statue in an art museum, and reveals it to be a forgery made of plaster rather than marble. At a dinner the mayor then throws in her honor, she ignores her silverware, slurps soup from a bowl and burps loudly, inspiring her admiring fellow diners do the same. In her pièce de resistance, Petunia, esteemed guest at the governor's ball, dances her host right into a huge vat of chocolate mousse ("It looked just like mud!") and everyone "that was anyone" follows suit. Polacco's porcine protagonist will also endear herself to readers, who will happily wallow in this lighthearted caper. Ages 4-up. (May)

Newcomer Yoo's sepia-toned pen-and-inks and watercolor wash, rich with shadows and spidery figures, provide a haunting obligato for her story of a boy's adventure alone in a deserted library. The cloth-covered, jacketless book and handsewn pages suggest the attention to detail and craft found within. Falling asleep among the shelves after his grandfather, the librarian, leaves the room, young JeJe wakes in the moonlight to find that his beloved red fish (which he carries about in a goldfish bowl) has disappeared. "He caught a glimpse of a little red tail flipping high over a shelf and so he followed it." Movement from one of the books on the shelf catches his eye. Inked in vermilion, the red fish and the red book stand out against the neutral background, as a series of wordless spreads follows. JeJe takes the book down, opens it, and is greeted by a fountain of fish just like his. Diving in, he travels through a wintry landscape, then sails across an ocean with a flock of flamingos in an image that recalls Japanese silkscreen landscapes. He and his fish land safely in the library just as JeJe's grandfather returns to fetch him. "He whispered to his fish that they would come back to the library very soon." Like Barbara Lehman's work, of which her fans might be reminded here, Yoo's exhilarating visual images don't really need words. They seem to call to a place beyond language, and shutting the book feels like awakening from a dream. Ages 4-up. (Mar.)

This resonant, moving story spotlights both the loving rapport between a girl and her grandfather, and the story of his family's escape to freedom. Grifalconi's (The Village of Round and Square Houses) narrator recalls accompanying her grandfather on a visit to his apple orchard. As the fellow waves hello to every passerby, the youngster asks how he knows so many people. He replies, "Don't know 'em by name-just by heart, Honey.... Ain't nobody a stranger to me!" And to her question, "Why's that, Gran'pa?" he responds, " 'Cause both me and my heart is free." The tale then travels back to a darker time, and Pinkney's bright palette similarly dims to sepia tones. The grandfather explains that, as a slave, he had carried apple seeds in his pockets that he planned to save for the day he could plant them in his own soil. But one day he realized that that wouldn't happen " 'til we struck out for freedom ourselves!" He and his wife ran away with their baby-the narrator's mother-and escaped across the Ohio River with the help of a member of the Underground Railroad. Pinkney's (The Old African) shadow-filled paintings depict their harrowing journey, and give way to glorious color as the man and his granddaughter reach his apple orchard in full bloom. The trees' luminous pink hues offer a stunning testimony to the power of those prophetic seeds. In a poignant finale, the girl then plants seeds of her own-a "seed of memory." An inspired collaboration. Ages 5-9. (Apr.)

For all its onomatopoeia, this book about noises proves remarkably understated. The title's merchant, aptly named Mister Bing, discovers his calling when a wayward twig falls on a tree stump. "Klackata!" Bing, delighted by the tone, takes the twig and stump to the market, where a mother buys them for her son. Walking home, Bing hears the "Trika, trika, trika, trok!" of raindrops, and sets out to mimic this percussion too; notably, he assigns accidental beauty a monetary value, and he doesn't think of sharing his pleasures for free. Soon he becomes famous for noisemaking sculptures, which resemble misshapen trumpets or modernist appliances à la Noguchi or Calder. The hollow vessels' names (such as the Zwippp) appear in display type, which emphasizes their visual and aural dimensions, and charmed gallery-goers think the work looks as good as it sounds. The entrepreneur's only, brief worry is a "missing TrooLOOOOlooo," stolen by a competitor who makes cheap knockoffs; the tale limps to a close as Mister Bing Junior inherits the business and the late Bing looks down from "a realm of infinite silence," criticizing his son's invention, the Bloopeeee. Avril pictures Bing as an architect type in I.M. Pei specs, bowler hat, red bow tie and green jacket. She composes trim, neat and tiny line drawings in airy, geometric white space; combined with the monochrome black print, the effect is elegant, modern and hushed. Just as Avril's calm drawings imply quiet over passion, Rozen's story of art-for-capitalism's-sake neglects the joy of listening. Ages 5-up. (Apr.)

Man's best friend and its feline counterpart receive some stunning paper collage treatment in Jenkins's (Actual Size) latest work. The two-in-one format offers wide-ranging facts presented in an easy-to-digest, conversational style (with a flip of the book, dog lovers and cat lovers can zero in on one or the other). Section headings in red typeface introduce substantial text blocks and lengthy captions, which touch on topics from ancestry and hunting skills to anatomy and body language. Both halves also include a spread of "amazing facts," and another entitled, "I wonder...." The latter offers explanations for the more unusual characteristics of each animal, such as why cats chase their tails ("They still enjoy acting out this hunting behavior") and why dogs might roll in manure ("A wild dog will roll in the dung of grazing animals to hide its own scent, allowing it to sneak up on its prey"). Jenkins's trademark cut- and torn-paper vignettes, with their subtle shadings and fuzzy or crinkled textures, are so carefully crafted that images of a few of the creatures (e.g., the English mastiff, the Siamese cat) could almost pass for photographs. The book's middle spread acts as a transition, depicting both a cat and dog stretched out on the same green rug, beneath the heading, "Friends or enemies?" (and alongside instructions to "turn the book over and start from the other side"). No matter what side readers are on, they'll come away with a better understanding of both species. Ages 6-10. (May)

Billed as Babbitt's first novel in 25 years, this book is really a charming collection of linked stories about the gentler side of pirate life aboard the Avarice. The tale-teller, Jack Plank, understands that "plundering" is not his strong suit: "You have to yell and make faces and rattle your sword.... Jack didn't seem to have a knack for it." So when the pirating economy slows, kindly Captain Scudder is forced to give him the pink slip. Put ashore with a small bag of gold florins donated by his shipmates, Jack finds himself on Saltwash Island, and convinces Mrs. DelFresno to take him in as a boarder. She's not too sure about renting a room to a pirate (his attire gives him away) but daughter Nina, 11, promises to help Jack quickly find a new occupation. Over the next eight days, however, Jack talks himself out of one profession after another by regaling his fellow boarders with colorful stories from his pirating past, featuring ghosts, mermaids and shapeshifters (but no violence), each of which demonstrates why he could never be a farmer, baker, jeweler or barber. Jack's lilting tales make an ideal read-aloud-so long as no one misses an up-close look at Babbitt's skilled pencil drawings. Perceptive readers will figure out long before Jack precisely what profession he's perfect for (the title gives it away), as Babbitt expertly weaves a message into Jack's tales: that stories are just as vital to a community as farming the land or baking bread. Ages 8-up. (May)

Frankly, I'm not fond of surprises, as the ones around here tend to be rather wicked." There are surprises aplenty in LaFevers's spirited debut, a sort of Indiana Jones for girls and a perfect blend of mystery and humor. Set in turn-of-the-20th-century London, it involves 11-year-old Theodosia Throckmorton, who "assists" her parents in their Museum of Legends and Antiquities. But Theo is the only one who can tell when ancient artifacts arriving at the museum bear a curse-and as new acquisitions arrive, she makes it her business to secretly remove any lingering curses by using recipes she finds in her constant research. Her mother returns home from a dig with the Heart of Egypt, a scarab amulet that was used as a death marker for the Pharaohs. When the amulet goes missing, Theo's search for it leads her to Lord Wigmere, the leader of an underground society that watches for magical artifacts entering England. The Heart of Egypt, it turns out, possesses a particularly nasty curse, "designed to weaken a nation, to make it easy to conquer." Crops begin to fail and a flu epidemic overtakes the nation. To break the curse, the Heart must be returned to the tomb from which it was taken-and, of course, it falls to Theo to recover the Heart. Loads of evocative Egyptian history and an oh-so-plucky, resourceful narrator make this the first volume in a series to watch. Ages 9-12. (Apr.)

Wells (Wingwalker) once again brings a historical period to life, this time the Civil War era in Virginia's Shenandoah Valley. "It is July 30, 1861. I, India Moody am twelve years old," announces the confident narrator. The war brings with it countless sacrifices (Julia, India's best friend moves to Ohio to wait out the war) and tragedies (the destruction of the land), along with the death of her beloved father. When her school closes, India's neighbor Emory Trimble tutors her ("smart as a snake, but too rattle-chested from his asthma to be more than a Sunday soldier"). Although India is expected to learn "scriptures, household economics, handwriting, declamation," she hungers for knowledge of science ("It is like... firelight to me") and strives to attend Oberlin College in Ohio, which Julia has told her accepts women. India is not unlike another of the author's determined heroines, Mary Breckenridge (the subject of Wells's biography, Mary on Horseback): when Emory later helps the medics and goes missing, India searches for him and along the way secretly saves a Yankee soldier. Her act of kindness leads to an unexpected opportunity. Wells's prose often says more than facts could ("Like a child's tantrum suddenly over with, there is a thick after-battle stillness in the air"). By story's end, India has become a woman, on her way to achieving both educational and romantic success-a testament to her tenacious spirit. Ages 12-up. (Apr.)

British novelist Durrant (Having It and Eating It, for adults) makes a splash this side of the pond with this cheeky romantic comedy for teens. The 14-year-old narrator sets the stage at the outset by welcoming readers to the "very private notebook of Constance de Bellechasse. Also known as Connie Pickles." In a series of entries that range from the woefully endearing to the downright hilarious, Connie recounts her attempts at finding a suitable man for her widowed mother. "Requirements: 1) Money. 2) Experience with small children. 3) French connections." As her matchmaking schemes grow progressively more complicated, so does her need to keep her intentions hidden from all parties involved. On top of everything else, her best friend, William, seems to have a crush on her; her neighbor Delilah is becoming a slut despite Connie's attempts to salvage Delilah's reputation; and the heroine's maturing body requires a bra. Although light and fluffy in the telling, Connie's quest is deep-rooted, and her eventual epiphanies feel tried and true. Readers will enjoy the zippy British slang peppered throughout, and the surprise mushy ending may well send eager hearts aflutter. Ages 12-up. (Apr.)

Australian author Herrick (By the River) takes readers to the present-day outback in this moving story told in verse, which unfolds through the first-person narratives of 16-year-old Lucy Harding and 15-year-old Jake Jackson. Though they are neighbors, their lives could not be more different. Jake has a happy and loving family; Lucy's home life is dismal. Her father drinks and blames Lucy for his unhappiness. "I was bad luck./ I was the cause of the drought,/ the bushfire,/ the floods./ He was stuck here because of me." Rather than stand up to him, Lucy spends her days trying to avoid him. Anything she cares about he destroys ("I was so happy watching the bird/ .../ I didn't see Dad raise the gun/ and fire"). When Jake's father finds another sheep ripped to bits, the man is convinced the culprit is a wolf, and Lucy tells Jake she knows where it lives. Herrick smoothly portrays how Lucy's thoughts about the wild creature allow her to work through her feelings about her father. While on their trek, Jake is injured, and the two spend the night in a cave where Lucy tells him about her unhappy home life. In Jake's friendship Lucy finds her inner strength ("What Jake and I got./ That can't be touched;/ it can't be broken./ My father can bash me/ all he likes,/ but I know now,/ he can't touch me"). Herrick's fully realized characters convey their hopes in this touching, well-written story. Ages 12-up. (Apr.)

Heathers meets I Shot Andy Warhol in this gritty ode to underground cool by award-winning screenwriter and debut Australian novelist Howell. The story's contagious blend of video store lingo, catty alpha girl politics and a twinge of real heart is both knowingly pretentious and fun. When 17-year-old Gem and her anti-establishment pals, Lo and Mira, form a group called Ug (short for Underground) in order to flaunt and elevate their fringe social standing, there's no doubt that each of their lives is about to change. "To be really Ug means you don't give a fig about the status quo. You can be ugly, or a virgin, or a lesbian, but whatever you are you revel in it." Ug's goal? To shock their cookie-cutter classmates by making a subversive film and airing it at a "Happening," à la Warhol's Factory. When the supposedly united trio's plan backfires (as Mira messes around with Gem's dodgy crush and Lo turns haughty and controlling), Gem decides to create and air a solo project about life as she sees it. Despite the friends' harried break-up, Gem realizes, "It's better to think that we're all different but we're also all people and people have to live together." With references to Valerie Solanas, Edie Sedgwick, Dostoevsky and Germaine Greer, teen misfits and film geeks will devour this renegade read with pleasure. Ages 14-up. (Apr.)

Clare's debut novel, first in the Mortal Instruments series, is a sprawling urban fantasy packed with just about every type of creature known to the genre, and still spacious enough to hold more. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray witnesses a killing in an "all-ages club"; when she confronts the attackers, she learns that they are spectral Shadowhunters, charged with killing demonic creatures called Night Children. Clary returns home to find her apartment vandalized and her mother missing, apparently kidnapped by creatures in the service of someone named Valentine. An attack by a slithering beast sends Clary to the infirmary at the Institute, hidden home of the Shadowhunters. There she befriends the hunter Jace, who tells her of Valentine's intention to find the Mortal Cup, one of three Mortal Instruments the Angel gave to the first Shadowhunters (the others are a mirror and sword). Great secrets abound both in Clary's past and in her own head-secrets that are gradually revealed to her about her mother, her mother's eccentric friend Luke, her relationship with Jace and, eventually, about Valentine himself. Clare's atmospheric setting is spot-on, informed equally by neo-gothic horror films and the modern fantasy leanings of Neil Gaiman. Werewolves, vampires, angels and fairies all fit in this ambitious milieu. At the core, though, this is a compelling story about family secrets and coming-of-age identity crises. Fans of the smart/chic horror typified by Buffy the Vampire Slayer will instantly fall for this new series. Ages 14-up. (Apr.)

Pyle (Lab U.S.A.) uses the graphic novel format to powerful effect as he explores a boy's coming of age. Dean Tollridge and his friends love "playing army," running missions through the woods behind their houses and combating imaginary Nazis. But reality invades the thoughtful boy's fantasy milieu (an accidental library discovery of what the Holocaust really looked like; a lengthy and harrowing encounter with a homeless vet) and suddenly playtime takes on an unwelcome gravity. Pyle uses color as a brilliant storytelling tool: blues and browns for the real world, camouflage greens and browns for make-believe war scenes, and vivid flashes of full color in moments of strong emotion. What is remarkable is how much of the story lives in the pictures that are not drawn, the words that are not said. From a book of relatively few pages and minimal dialogue emerges a very robust set of characters, right down to the conflicted parents whose concern for their child unfolds in minimalist conversations of doubt and best intentions. This is a very smart and humane graphic novel that, by the sheer force of its narrow focus, resonates with a broad emotional range. Ages 9-12. (May)

DC Comics' imprint of graphic novels for girls, Minx, starts off with a bang with this elegant story of art in the suburbs. As Jane walks past a sidewalk café in Metro City, a terrorist's bomb goes off. Her parents, overtaken by fear, move the family to the small town of Kent Waters. The popular girls at Buzz Aldrin High court her, but Jane wants to be an outsider. She finds three other girls named Jane, all of them unpopular in different ways-one is "Brain Jane," one an aspiring actress and one an athlete-and together the four of them make "art attacks" on the city, leaving the name P.L.A.I.N. (People Loving Art In Neighborhoods) wherever they go. They build pyramids on the site of a planned strip mall ("The pyramids lasted for thousands of years. Do you think this strip mall will?") and populate the police department's lawn with gnomes. But to a community consumed with elevated threat levels, the attacks seem more ominous than generous, and P.L.A.I.N. becomes an outlaw group. All the while, Jane continues to write letters to John Doe, the unidentified man whose life she saved during the bombing-and who sits in a hospital, comatose, his sketchbook serving as her muse. Castellucci (Boy Proof) and Rugg (co-creator of Street Angel) nimbly make their larger point-that fear is an indulgence we must give ourselves permission to overcome-without ever preaching, and without neglecting the dynamics of a page-turning coming-of-age story. Ages 12-up. (May)