Children’s Book Reviews: Week of 4/23/2007

by Staff -- Publishers Weekly, 4/23/2007

I'd Really Like to Eat a Child
Sylviane Donnio, illus. by Dorothée de Monfreid. Random, $14.99 (32p) ISBN 978-0-375-83761-6

When an adorable crocodile named Achilles scorns his mother's bananas and makes the startling announcement that gives the book its title, young readers may experience a frisson of tension, since they clearly wouldn't want to become a crocodile's breakfast themselves. In de Monfreid's double-page spreads, which suggest the horizons of prowling reptiles, Mama and Papa Crocodile proffer sausage, then chocolate cake in an effort to distract Achilles from his purportedly inappropriate craving. But Achilles heads for the river, where he discovers a girl alone on the bank. "Yippee! Finally, I'm going to eat a child," he thinks. "He crept up slowly and bared his beautiful teeth…" Achilles, next to the girl, barely reaches her knee; even the "RAAH" that comes out of his mouth is pint-sized. "A teeny-tiny crocodile!" she exclaims. "He's awfully cute!" Humiliated, Achilles slinks home to munch on bananas, vowing to grow big enough and strong enough to achieve his goal. The appetizing mixture of domestic breakfast concerns and fierce child-eating monsters will leave children hungry for more. "I'd really like to read that book," parents may hear them say. Ages 3-6. (Apr.)

Chocolate at the Four Seasons
Betty Paraskevas, illus. by Michael Paraskevas, based on a true story by Bonnie Timmermann. Little, Brown, $16.99 (32p) ISBN 978-0-316-01375-8

In real life, Chocolate the Chihuahua was one lucky dog. When his "Papa" had to go away on business, Chocolate was entrusted to casting director/producer Timmermann, who was staying at the Four Seasons Hotel and clearly had enough sway with management to ensure that Chocolate was treated like a rock star. Unfortunately, anyone expecting to find in these pages a canine version of Eloise may end up a bit disappointed. Chocolate is given the run of the hotel and effortlessly wins the affections of the staff and guests; a grumpy hotel manager in an early spread proves to be a narrative red herring. The story, which lacks much dramatic tension, is shaped around the big-eared little fellow "finding his voice"— shy and barkless when he arrives at the hotel, Chocolate checks out having gained enough confidence and social élan to serenade guests while sitting on the hotel lounge piano. But that development proves a rather weak driver of narrative momentum, especially given Betty Paraskevas's literal, earnest prose. Michael Paraskevas's (Hoppy and Joe) impressionistic, exuberantly brush-stroked compositions exude a California vibe. With a perky Chihuahua as his surrogate guide, he makes readers feel at home in a rarefied world of oversized sunglasses, toned bodies, haute cuisine and 24/7 luxury. Ages 3-6. (Apr.)

Wag a Tail
Lois Ehlert. Harcourt, $16 (32p) ISBN 978-0-15-205843-2

In Ehlert's (Leaf Man) snazzy cut-paper world, dogs are definitely allowed—at the farmer's market and, of course at the dog park—especially if they are graduates of the Bow Wow obedience school. As told from the pooches' perspective, various Bow Wow alums greet each other and brag about their good behavior (expressed in white talk bubbles, e.g. "We never drool") while their owners grab a coffee or browse the farmer's market stalls. When one peppy pup breaks the rules, the others keep their cool and later welcome their repentant pal for a romp at the park. Using colors as fresh as the fruits, vegetables and flowers she depicts, Ehlert patterns a collage-quilt featuring sewn-on button eyes, glued-on patches of fabric and a canine cast largely clipped with pinking shears (the ones belonging to the artist's mother and previously seen in her book Hands). As always, there's a lot to see in Ehlert's crisply textured compositions on oversize square pages, challenging young readers to dive right into her visual storytelling. Profiles of the dog protagonists appear on the end pages. And dog lovers can rest assured that the book's title is right on the money—Ehlert offers a generous helping of tail-wagging fun. Ages 3-7. (Apr.)

That Rabbit Belongs to Emily Brown
Cressida Cowell, illus. by Neal Layton. Hyperion, $16.99 (40p) ISBN 978-1-4231-0645-6

This effervescent collaboration introduces a spunky girl who embarks on fanciful adventures with Stanley, her old gray stuffed rabbit. One day, as Emily and Stanley are "launching themselves into outer space to look for alien life-forms," the chief footman to Queen Gloriana the Third arrives at the door, announcing that the royal wants Emily's bunny in exchange for a new gold teddy bear. Deeming the bear "horrible" ("It had staring eyes and no smile at all"), the outraged lass politely refuses the offer. Next, while the duo is motorbiking through the Sahara, an army captain extends the queen's new terms: in exchange for Stanley, she'll give Emily the teddy and 10 dolls that say "Mama, Mama." Still no deal. After the navy and the air force attempt to bribe the unyielding girl, special commandos sneak into her bedroom one night and steal Stanley. The infuriated youngster storms into the castle, where she rescues Stanley (miserable from the queen's attempts to clean him up) and hands the young monarch the new gold teddy, instructing her to play and sleep with him, and to "be sure to have lots of adventures. And then maybe one day you will wake up with a real toy of your OWN." Cowell (How to Be a Pirate) slyly slips a worthy message into her whimsical tale, which is given ample comic dimension by Neal's (Oscar and Arabella) zany and inventive mixed-media illustrations. Ages 3-7. (Apr.)

3 Tales Retold and Illustrated: The Three Little Pigs, The Three Bears, and the Three Billy Goats Gruff
Ed Miller. Holt, $17.95 (48p) ISBN 0-978-0-8050-7916-6

This workmanlike retelling of these three fairy tales breaks no new ground, but its three-in-one format makes it suitable as an introduction to the familiar stories. Miller's computer-generated artwork resembles stills from a retro Saturday morning cartoon. He includes occasional whimsical touches and tongue-in-cheek visual jokes (Papa Bear holds a newspaper with the headline "Wolf is soup!"), but overall, the flat illustrations lack depth and perspective. Oddly, the noses of many characters are in profile while the eyes face front, so the wolf's huffing and puffing is pictured as a lump underneath his muzzle. Although not as rhythmical as the originals, Miller's versions of the stories are nonetheless economically told. Familiar phrases remain intact ("This porridge is too hot!") but the tales' gory details have been minimized as much as possible. The wolf simply burps up the two little pigs he's swallowed and falls through the chimney "into the boiling turnip soup. Yowch!" Before she leaves the three bears' house, Goldilocks helpfully cooks more porridge, mends the chair and helps remake baby bear's bed. This is a serviceable but not distinguished rendering of three old favorites. Ages 3-7. (Apr.)

The Tale of Pip and Squeak
Kate Duke. Dutton, $16.99 (32p) ISBN 978-0-525-47777-8

Duke's (Aunt Isabel Tells a Good One) nimble narrative features plenty of peppy dialogue, yet the true charm of this tale is rooted in her whimsically detailed illustrations, rendered in watercolor, acrylic, pen and gouache. They depict a bustling mouse enclave in an attic, where the diminutive residents make merry use of abandoned items: a dressmaker's dummy is a climbing wall; a Mets baseball cap with the words "Opera House" taped to it sits atop an old-fashioned radio; and tiny cups hang from a tricycle's spokes in a makeshift Ferris wheel. Two mice brothers live in a home consisting of a shoebox flanked by two towers, one fashioned from a "Tinka Toys" box, the other from two "Clay-doh" containers. The former houses the studio of artist Pip; the latter the music room of songwriter and singer Squeak. The bickering brothers keep their distance, Pip complaining that the sound of Squeak's singing hurts his ears and Squeak insisting the smell of Pip's paint makes him cough so much "it was a miracle he could utter a note." Preparing for their annual party, at which Squeak aspires to sing his longest song ever and Pip to display his biggest pictures ever, the overly competitive siblings get into a tussle that suddenly (and rather inexplicably) becomes a jolly free-for-all that leaves their party room in shambles. The two cooperate to clean up the mess and stage their best-ever musical and art performance. As readers happily pore over the art's comical particulars, they will easily grasp the worthwhile message of this buoyant caper. Ages 3-up. (Apr.)

Gizmo
Barry Varela, illus. by Ed Briant. Roaring Brook/Porter, $16.95 (32p) ISBN 978-1-59643-115-7

Whimsy abounds in this jolly jumble of words and images, guaranteed to grab kids' attention and ignite their imaginations. Featuring ample onomatopoeia, alliteration and jaunty rhyme, Varela's (Palmers Gate) narrative introduces Professor Ludwig von Glink, who sets out to invent a perpetual motion machine. Though his elaborate "Gizmo" doesn't move for long, before it runs out of steam it produces "sounds of clanging and banging, and pinging and ringing, that were not entirely unpleasant, as well as tingly, tangly twitterings reminiscent of the call of the ring-necked pheasant." Undaunted, the cheerful prof decides to "work up some specs and see if I can make this mingle-mangle of intricate jury-rigged gimcrackery yet more complex. I'll bet dollars to doughnuts that'd add to the merriment." Adding a great deal to the merriment, Briant's (Seven Stories) bustling, comical art reveals the inventor, his wife and five children using a variety of gears, springs, toys, musical instruments and whatnot to create an ever-expanding contraption that eventually takes over the house, attracting a gaggle of ogling tourists. Alas, the city building inspector determines that the contraption has no practical purpose; "deeply offended by the pointless contraption, [he] concluded that the whole kaboodle must be on the verge of collapsion." But the director of the contemporary art museum lobbies to save the structure (which is, after all, "a case of art for art's sake") from demolition and it becomes an annex to the museum, making everyone—including young readers—quite content. Ages 4-8. (May)

The Secret Life of Walter Kitty
Barbara Jean Hicks, illus. by Dan Santat. Knopf, $16.99 (40p) ISBN 978-0-375-83196-6

Despite a promising title and endpapers picturing a chameleonic hero, this cat tale fails to deliver on its allusion to James Thurber's short story, "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty." Walter Kitty looks and acts like an ordinary cinnamon cat in a suburban home. He hangs out in the front-yard tree, digs in loose garden dirt and climbs uninvited onto people's laps and the supper table. When his owner, Mrs. Biddle, calls him "Wally," "Kitten" and "Baby," he shows up—particularly if treats and catnip are involved. All the while, he quietly maintains, "my real name is Fang." In his daydreams—too few and far between here—Walter becomes a pouncing tiger, a pirate ("Captain Fang"), and a fearless archaeologist on the Indiana Jones model. Using ink, acrylic and digital media, Santat (The Guild of Geniuses) pictures Walter grinning like the Cheshire Cat with steel-trap jaws; he sketches the feline as an astronaut, firefighter and top-hatted gentleman, and juxtaposes these energetic caricatures with prosaic images of Walter grooming or tracking mud across the linoleum. Yet the narrative does not expand on the cat's active imagination. Hicks (Jitterbug Jam) instead focuses on Walter's household behavior: "I don't know what Mrs. Biddle would do without me," the cat muses, licking plates clean and dusting the floor by sliding on it. Whereas Thurber's version satirizes middle-class complacency and pent-up aggression, Walter's tepid home life suits him fine, and his fantasy world remains undeveloped. Ages 5-8. (Apr.)

Didn't Didn't Do It
Bradford Morrow, illus. by Gahan Wilson. Putnam, $16.99 (32p) ISBN 978-0-399-24480-3

Morrow, an O. Henry and Pushcart Prize winner making his children's book debut, and veteran cartoonist Wilson (The Bang Bang Family) engage in some nifty word play reminiscent of the classic bit "Who's on First." A group of children set out to build a treehouse, but "it never got done." Why? First, a family of cute birds already occupied the tree. And second, the children's unusual names—Didn't, Doesn't, Shouldn't, Couldn't, Wouldn't, and Can't—seem indicative of an inability to move forward. The story and silliness unfold when two children first spot the birds and agree to abandon their portion of the construction: "Didn't didn't do it. Neither did Doesn't. Doesn't didn't do it because Didn't wouldn't." (The contraction names are set in colored type to distinguish them from the regular contractions that appear in the text. Additionally, the colors match the children's clothing, helping keep the characters' identities straight.) Can't soon follows suit, Wouldn't and Shouldn't fight over tools, little Couldn't eats the plans, and pretty soon everyone realizes they'd be much happier just sitting on a branch surrounded by their feathered friends. Wilson's loopy, oozy cartoons keep the merriment moving along—as always, his kids appear to be 6 and 76 simultaneously—but the real fun is in watching words collide. Ages 5-up. (May)

Who Put the "B" in the Ballyhoo?: The Most Amazing, Bizarre, and Celebrated Circus Performers
Carlyn Beccia. Houghton, $16 (32p) ISBN 978-0-618-71718-7

This abecedarium of circus posters introduces a collection of turn-of-the-century sideshow acts. It's clear that newcomer Beccia's own interest lies with circus posters as an art form; her most enthusiastic audience may be type designers and graphic artists. For younger readers, the flat, folk-Gothic style paintings soften the impact of occasionally disturbing images (a tattooed man, a bearded lady, a part mermaid/part monkey creature). For the letter "w," Waino and Plutano, the "Wild Men of Borneo," are painted as peculiar caricatures against a mustard-colored background. Beccia's verse description, with shaky meter, says, "W is for Wicked/ A Devious Duo/ Can't behave, too depraved/ They belong in Borneo." In the text below each page's plate, Beccia works to demystify the circus ("The brothers' real names were Barney and Hiram, and they were natives of Long Island, New York"), but doesn't go into seemingly necessary detail (such as why the inhabitants of Borneo were thought so depraved). She explains the derivation of expressions like "hold your horses" (yelled by the crier at the head of the circus procession, who knew what happened when horses saw wild animals) and "jumbo" (the elephant's name gave rise to the adjective that means "big," not the other way around). Though modern circuses are certainly tamer than the turn-of-the-century versions explored here, today's readers may be as entranced by Beccia's depictions of such spectacles as their forebearers were by the real thing. Ages 6-10. (Apr.)

Fiction

My Last Best Friend
Julie Bowe. Harcourt, $16 (160p) ISBN 978-0-15-205777-0

Starting fourth grade is a lonely business for Ida May since Elizabeth, her "last best friend," moved away. To make things worse, mean Jenna Drews, daughter of the PTA president, is making Ida's life miserable by taunting Ida every chance she gets. Ida wishes that she could find a new best friend in Stacey Merriweather, a girl with a "big-crayon" smile, who has just moved to town. But part of Ida fears that if she gets close to Stacey, the girl might disappear just as Elizabeth did ("Trust me, you don't want to get too close to big-crayon smiles. That's because people with big-crayon smiles don't stick around very long," Ida laments). In this heartfelt, slice-of-life story, first-time novelist Bowe explores both the uncertainties and rewards of friendship as she traces her wistful heroine's first few weeks of school. Ida's hurt at being bullied by Jenna is skillfully evoked, but what readers will feel most strongly is Ida's yearning to share simple pleasures like "Messy art projects. Corny jokes." and "Mild cheddar cheese" with someone special, who likes her just for who she is. Throughout the novel, Ida cautiously approaches Stacey, using anonymous notes as a vehicle to introduce herself to the newcomer. Stacey's replies to the secret messages reveal that she has told some "emergency" lies about her living situation and may have to leave town soon, just as Ida has feared. If the book's resolution is a little too tidy, Bowe's characters emerge fully formed. Ida embodies the universal longing to connect with a kindred spirit. Ages 7-10. (Apr.)

Call Me Hope
Gretchen Olson. Little, Brown, $15.99 (288p) ISBN 978-0-316-01236-2

Anyone who equates child abuse only with physical blows may think in broader terms after reading this moving story of a sixth grader tormented by her mother's hurtful words. Hope, whose father left when she was a baby (because she "cried all the time," according to her mother), has been called stupid so many times she gets a "stinkin' stomachache" every time she hears the word. She can't seem to do anything to please her mother, but luckily there are others—Hope's teacher, her school counselor and classmate Brody, for instance—who believe she does have value. Hope reaches a turning point after making friends with two women who run a used clothing store. Deeply affected by their kindness and inspired by Anne Frank's diary, Hope gradually begins to believe in herself, even when her mother dishes out her cruelest punishment by not allowing Hope to participate in the Outdoor School program. Without giving too pat a solution to Hope's internal and external conflicts, Olson (Joyride) provides signs that her protagonist's future will be considerably brighter than her past. Children who can identify with Hope's predicament will find solace in this book as well as tips for survival, listed by Hope in the final chapter. Ages 8-12. (Apr.)

The Book of Lies
James Moloney. HarperCollins, $16.99 (368p) ISBN 978-0-06-057842-4

Moloney (A Bridge to Wiseman's Cove) starts off with an interesting premise before meandering into pedestrian fantasy territory. A boy is brought to an orphanage and implanted with a false memory and given the name Marcel. He meets a girl named Bea who tells him of the magician Lord Alwyn who lives in the tower above the orphanage. Bea shows Marcel a book created by Lord Alwyn when he was "Master of the Royal Books"; this "book of lies" magically displays any spoken words that are untrue. Then a note arrives from someone claiming to be a friend of Marcel's father, asking him to flee; Marcel and three friends manage to escape the orphanage. He and a girl named Nicola learn that they are siblings—and heirs to the throne, which is currently held by the usurper Pelham who ousted their parents. Starkey, the man who wrote the note to Marcel, enlists their help in freeing the "real" king and queen; his motives seem suspicious from the start, making the tale's twist less than surprising. Opening chapters are atmospheric and creepy, and the book of lies itself is one of the most fascinating characters. However, clichés abound—lengthy travel sequences, prophecies of doom, complex monarchial trees—which may disappoint some readers in the end. Ages 8-12. (Apr.)

The Traitor King
Todd Mitchell. Scholastic, $16.99 (368p) ISBN 978-0-439-82788-1

Mitchell's debut novel combines classic fairy-myth elements with quirky family dynamics and two likeable protagonists, to fine effect. Eleven-year-old Darren Mananann and his older sister Jackie, along with their parents and a handful of aunts and uncles, make their way to Uncle Will's house in the woods, only to find Will missing. Darren has been having strange, frightening visions; an overheard conversation about family secrets convinces him that his family is somehow different, and he soon learns that all of the Manananns are able to send their shadows away from their bodies. While Darren and Jackie search for Uncle Will, they are pursued by a "skeleton man," a bald man with sunken eyes who leaves a "stench of rotting pumpkins" in his wake. Soon after, they cross over into another world called Tir na N'Og, where a brownie (an elfin creature) named Nim Bol helps them locate their uncle, who has been turned into a tree. The Mananann family indeed has deep roots in the land of the fay, and the kids learn of their connection to the Traitor King, who separated the two worlds. They journey back home to find pieces of a magical staff that can reunite the two and transform Uncle Will back to his old self. There's a light dose of environmental allegory in the story, but by and large it's a purely fun journey, infused with enough humor to keep the pages turning. Ages 9-12. (Apr.)

H. I. V. E.: Higher Institute of Villainous Education
Mark Walden. Simon & Schuster, $15.99 (320p) ISBN 978-1-4169-3571-1

Mischievously talented teenagers star in Walden's debut novel, which envisions the educational training of future megalomaniacs and criminal masterminds. Otto Malpense, a 13-year-old orphan, awakens aboard a helicopter with no memory of how he got there. He soon discovers that he and a few hundred other teens have been abducted by the Higher Institute of Villainous Education, a secret school committed to nurturing youth with "a special talent for the supremely villainous." Dr. Nero, the institute's founder, introduces the new students to the institute, located in a sprawling underground complex on a volcanic island. Otto, who has a photogenic memory, quickly befriends Wing Fanchu, a martial arts expert; Laura Brand, an expert with electronics); and Shelby Trinity, a dextrous jewel thief. The foursome conspire to escape their captors, and engineer a plan to return to their old lives. The multicultural array of staff and students Walden has created exude a cartoonish brand of over-the-top villainy reminiscent of Austin Powers or James Bond. Despite the villains' lack of bite (save for the giant man-eating plant) Walden's characters are memorable, if a bit cliched in execution. Otto and the others ultimately decide to stay at the institute; readers may well anticipate getting answers to several threads left open for subsequent installments. Ages 10-14. (May)

In Search of Mockingbird
Loretta Ellsworth. Holt, $16.95 (181p) ISBN 978-0-8050-7236-5

A teen's yearning to connect to her long-deceased mother is at the core of Ellsworth's (The Shrouding Woman) novel. Erin, whose mother died when she was three days old, cherishes her mother's worn paperback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. This book and a few black-and-white photographs are her sole connections to her mother's life. The day before her 16th birthday, Erin's father gives her the diary her mother had kept at 16. After reading a few entries, Erin learns that she shares many similarities with her mother, including their mutual dream of becoming writers. She then discovers that her mother once wrote to Harper Lee asking, "How do you know if you have what it takes to be a writer?" Erin decides she has to meet Harper Lee in person; she sneaks out of the house and boards a bus to Monroeville, Ala. "She'll be there, sitting in her porch swing, waiting to talk to me." The story bogs down during the road trip, with a great deal of attention given to the adults who offer Erin help along the way. When Erin arrives at her destination, she accepts that traveling to Monroeville won't bring her closer to her mother; only her father can fill in the blanks. Erin's journey of self-discovery gives her the courage to confront her own failings and the maturity to accept her father's plans to marry. Though Erin's voice seems younger than her years, readers will root for her while reaching for a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. Ages 10–14. (Apr.)

Ben and the Sudden Too-Big Family
Colby Rodowsky. FSG, $16 (128p) ISBN 978-0-374-30658-8

Ben Mitchell's philosophy that "some things in life are all right and some things are not all right" holds true in this slice-of-life novel, as Rodowsky (That Fernhill Summer) comically depicts how the world of her 10-year-old protagonist is turned upside down when he becomes part of a "sudden, too big" family. Ben, whose birth mother died when he was a baby, thinks it is "cool" that his father is marrying Casey, the proprietor of a bakeshop, but that's before he realizes how many new people are destined to disrupt his contentedly quiet life. Ben is soon overwhelmed by the aunts, uncles and cousins who are now part of his family. And to make things more complicated, his father and Casey decide to adopt a baby from China. Some events—like traveling overseas to pick up baby Maudie Mingmei—turn out to be exciting for Ben, while other occurrences (such as having to vacation with his new relatives instead of attending soccer camp) are not as fun. Ben's misgivings about being embraced (figuratively and literally) by relatives whom he barely knows will draw sympathy from readers, as will his misfortune at getting stuck having to entertain the least appealing member of his new family—gloomy Great Aunt Nora—at a family reunion. Encapsulating the noise, chaos, mess and love that are all parts of being in a large family, this novel shows how some "not all right" predicaments turn out "all right" in the end. Ages 10-up. (Apr.)

Nonfiction

An Inconvenient Truth: The Crisis of Global Warming
Al Gore. Viking, $23, $16 paper (192p) ISBN 978-0-670-06271-3; -06272-0

Much as Eric Schlosser revised his Fast Food Nation findings into the child-centered Chew on This, Gore produces a new edition of An Inconvenient Truth, "adapted for a new generation." "Earth is sometimes called the Goldilocks planet—neither too hot like Venus with its thick poisonous atmosphere nor too cold like Mars," Gore writes, then delivers resounding evidence that things are no longer just right. Captioned color photos compare thriving coral to bleached reefs—victims of rising ocean temperatures and pollution—and place images of former glaciers side-by-side with today's snowless plains or lakes. Where some images celebrate astronauts' views of the Earth from space, others show a refuse dump in Mexico City and Tokyo's astonishing urban sprawl; one startling snapshot shows dull brown, clearcut land in Haiti ("98 percent of their forests have been cut down") abutting the still-green, forested Dominican Republic. Although lighter on textual explication of climate change, this children's text hews closely to the original and to Gore's famous slide show; that said, the urgency of conservation fails to come across in the pedestrian prose, which might fail to inspire its audience. For all his subject's vital importance, Gore provides just two brief pages on ways to "Take Action." Readers will want to browse the amazing pictures, but will have to look elsewhere for ideas on making a difference. Ages 11-up. (May)