Children's Books Reviews: Week of 12/24/2007

Where Portis's Not a Box featured a plain brown wrapper, this winning sequel proffers a faux wood-grain cover. And where the earlier title featured a deceptively boxlike, hollow rectangle (which an inventive rabbit treated as a rocket or a race car), this follow-up introduces a little pig holding a long, forked object. An unenlightened voice offstage suggests, “Hey, be careful with that stick.” The pig corrects the false impression (“It's not a stick”) and demonstrates the item's many uses. Portis traces pig and plaything in a heavy black line on negative space, then superimposes jaunty blue line drawings that act as overlays to reveal the pig's imaginings. The pig stands astride the stick, and a rearing horse shape appears. The pig holds the stick at its midpoint and it becomes a paintbrush, aiming toward Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night. Where the offstage warnings appear in white italics on a gray ground, implying a drab rejection of fantasy (“Watch where you point that stick”), the pig's statements are printed against a deep and dreamy blue. Portis repeats her previous formula down to the conclusion, where the pig calls the DIY toy “my Not-a-Stick!,” once again appealing to those who think outside the box. Ages up to 6. (Jan.)

Parker, who illustrated Ballet of the Elephants and Action Jackson, makes his writing debut with a biography of famed jazz pianist Art Tatum, which takes some creative license in its straightforward, first-person narrative. “Bad eyes can't keep me from playing the piano,” says a young Tatum. “My hands get to know the keys, the short black ones on top and long white ones below. I play more and more. And more.” The uncluttered storytelling offers a chronological journey of Tatum's rise to fame: his first recital in church; a night of playing moon-themed songs while neighborhood children catch fireflies; his first gig at a bar. From the twins next door who help him walk to school to a café owner who lets him use his player piano, the story incorporates the people who were important in Tatum's early life—his hardworking parents, foremost. A subtle sophistication shines through Parker's easygoing yet dynamic watercolors. Roughly hewn sketch lines give the characters an almost abstract quality, but their faces and gestures project emotion nonetheless, as in vignettes of a bartender smiling contentedly or Tatum's mother sitting in the shadows by a radio, both listening to Tatum play. Parker's unhurried account could inspire visions of jazz greatness among young musicians. Ages 4-8. (Jan.)

With biblical references and a reverential tone, this lyrical story of Muhammad Ali paints the fighter (and the history of African-American boxers) in mythic proportions: “In the beginning was Jack Johnson.” A subsequent spread features posters of Joe Louis and Sonny Liston, but the grand introduction is saved for Ali, shown running in the rain by night: “And the heavens opened up,/ and there appeared a great man/ descending on a cloud, jump-roping/ into the Kingdom of Boxing./ And he was called Cassius Clay.” Roca's (Twenty-One Elephants and Still Standing) strikingly realistic oil illustrations pack a powerful punch, and his use of light recalls Edward Hopper. He also captures subtle and overt emotions in facial gestures—Ali exudes braggadocio before his match with Liston, and in another scene, white reporters' faces register skepticism at his boasts. Winter's (Diego) cadenced, non-rhyming verse highlights just a few episodes from Ali's career and glorifies him as a king and near-miraculous savior, rather than emphasizing hard work on his part, but the result is no less inspiring (“Muhammad Ali was a new kind of boxer—/ and a new kind of person./ And he was creating a new way/ for African Americans to be”). Alongside the veneration is the subtle message that children, too, can achieve all that they imagine. Ages 4-8. (Jan.)

Carbone's (Stealing Freedom) powerful first picture book, based on a true story, is set in 1838, when James, a young slave, decides to escape his master's Virginia farm and reluctantly tells his noisy dog, Zeus, to stay behind (“One skinny old hunting dog wasn't worth staying for. Not when there was freedom to be had”). Ignoring the boy, Zeus comes anyway and saves James's life several times, helping him escape his master's lackeys, kill vicious slave-catching dogs and cross the Ohio River when James's canoe sinks. Dramatically illuminated by sunshine and moonlight, Lewis's (Coming on Home Soon) watercolors highlight the characters' peril—in one scene, James tenses as he's about to be whipped by his captor; equally upsetting is the sight of James and Zeus fending off the pack of dogs. Carbone's colloquial narrative offsets the harsh reality (“Ropes that are slimed up with dog spit are mighty easy to untie!”) and emphasizes the sometimes strained but tender friendship between boy and dog. This emotionally charged account will move children and parents alike, right through the quietly triumphant denouement. An author's note provides details about the real James Smith's later years. Ages 5-8. (Jan.)

Snappy language and varied rhyme schemes energize Grimes's (Talkin' About Bessie) verses describing step-sibling rivalry in a newly blended, interracial family. After his mom's wedding, Xavier bemoans his circumstances: “Everyone in this house/ is a step, now./ Stepmom./ Stepdad... / In my mind,/ I turn them into steps/ I can climb./ And when I reach/ the top,/ I rule.” Benny (America's White Table) intersperses surreal illustrations with more realistic scenes; those that vivify Xavier's imaginary life are more compelling (instead of showing steps, he displays the rest of the family as figures at Mount Rushmore, with the life-size narrator scaling the representation of his stepfather). Throughout, the illustrator favors outsize characters with enormous eyes and mouths, exaggerating Xavier's shifting emotions (and taking advantage of the book's large trim size). The stylized characters also complement the humor and the deft poetic shifts as Grimes traces Xavier's tumultuous route to friendship with his new stepbrother, Chris (“I'm sick of Mr. Perfect!/ Just be a normal kid!” he explodes, only to be moved by Chris's response: “ 'Unless I'm perfect,' whispers Chris,/ 'my dad might go away./ Normal wasn't good enough/ to make my mama stay' ”). Although the story arc is predictable (guess who has a baby?), the art and poems capture and memorably convey a range of emotions. Ages 5-10. (Jan.)

Set in the early 1960s, Faulkner's (The Pirate Meets the Queen) thought-provoking tale presents a study in contrasts and uncomfortable realities. Initial spreads open buoyantly, with cheery scenes of two barefoot cousins playing marbles and enjoying soda pop. An acquaintance tells Jelly and LuLu, the narrator, about her trip to the big city, where she saw “a sign, clear as day, hanging over a water bubbler that read colored.” Jelly and Lulu are entranced: “Cherry, lemon, orange and apple—all those flavors in one gulp!” Lulu imagines. Only older readers might have registered unease at the cover art, featuring rainbow-hued water gushing from a fountain, a gallows-like frame supporting the “colored” sign above it. The cousins' eventual visit to the city coincides with a civil rights demonstration, where police with batons and firemen with hoses face off against protesters. Pen-and-ink and watercolor illustrations introduce irony and symbolism that may be lost on younger audiences, e.g., a billboard advertises Snowy White soap, “100% pure”; wrought-iron ornamentation announces the city's name as Eden. The climactic scene of a policeman, replete with snarling dog, screaming at the (white) cousins just as they are about to taste the magical water, cracks any veneer of innocence. As it does for the characters, this disturbing lesson leaves readers with lots to ponder. An eloquent afterword bridges the gap between the readers' experience and their knowledge of the civil rights era. Ages 6-8. (Jan.)

This paean to the legendary pugilist offers a multifaceted portrait of the fighter as brazen, charitable, fiercely competitive and deeply spiritual. Smith's (I Am America) poetry recalls the rhymed, rhythmic chants Ali used to inflate his image and taunt opponents (“Fighting opponents and hatred/ with two glowing gloves,/ you spoke your mind freely/ while radiating love”). Each of the dozen chapters represents a period in Ali's life, from his birth through his boxing years, his conversion to Islam and retirement and diagnosis with Parkinson's. The fight scenes don't sugarcoat the violence: “when his rock-solid fist,/ released from way back,/ slingshot your cheek/ and broke your jaw with a crack.” While some rhymes feel forced (“Each victory inching you/ closer to Sonny/ Liston, the champion,/ for title and money”), Smith's chronicle of Ali's life is nonetheless remarkable in its use of a compact, verse format to convey a great deal of biographical material. Collier's (Lift Every Voice and Sing) dynamic collages capture the emotional weight of both Ali's triumphs and failings; memorably, he depicts the fighters' blows as small ball bearings with fiery tails that radiate outward, heightening the sense of impact. Bold quotes from Ali and others seem to shout across the spreads and, along with Collier's artwork, provide a visual respite from the lengthy columns of verse. This unique and thorough tribute to a complex American hero should readily enthrall those seeking a less conventional biography. Ages 10-up. (Dec.)

At the beginning of third grade, Kaline Klattermaster has a lot of troubles. His father has disappeared from home, and Kaline's ditzy mother won't say where he is. At school Kaline is tormented by bullies and needs to follow all sorts of rules, such as keeping his bottom on his seat and writing “consistently” with the same hand. When things become overwhelming, Kaline escapes into an imaginary world, where he has a magnificent tree house and two friendly older brothers. In her children's fiction debut, bestselling novelist Kimmel (A Girl Named Zippy) creates some memorable moments, especially near the end, when Kaline bonds with Mr. Osiris Putnaminski, his eccentric white-haired neighbor, who looks “like a CRAZY SANTA CLAUS” and provides help when it's needed most. However, the narrative abruptly jumps from Kaline's fantasies to his down-to-earth concerns about family and school; the shifts are problematic and confusing. Gimmicky devices (like the frequent use of capitalization) are more distracting than effective, and at times Kaline comes off as much younger than his years. His mispronunciation of words (“pangemonia,” “The Declamation of Inkpendence”) and academic struggles contradict the precociousness offered as an explanation for his having started school a year early; if anything he seems to have some sort of disability. However much readers may sympathize with Kaline's circumstances, they are likely to have trouble relating to the character and understanding what makes him tick. Illustrations not seen by PW. Ages 7-12. (Feb.)

Set in Atlanta in 1947, Coleman's (Born in Sin) novel looks at charged emotions in the segregated South. Twelve-year-old Clyde lives in the “mill village,” where his mother works long hours to support their family. Clyde looks forward to letters from his older brother Joseph, a WWII marine who is a guard on the Freedom Train, which is carrying the Constitution, Declaration of Independence and other significant documents on a nationwide tour. William, an African-American boy who's adept with a slingshot, rescues Clyde from a pummeling by the class bully; initially conflicted about befriending William, Clyde realizes that he doesn't want to be someone “who don't want to speak up when something ain't right.” Coleman convincingly depicts Clyde's gradual awakening to the racism that surrounds him, as well as the prejudice his impoverished family faces (“People kept staring at us like we was the monkeys at a show,” Clyde thinks when his father treats them to tea at a fancy department store restaurant). Despite the book's somewhat sluggish pace, historically minded readers should enjoy this snapshot of America's past. Ages 8-12. (Jan.)

Belton's (Store-Bought Baby) latest, a hopeful tale of social change, pays tribute to the legendary Paul Robeson, gifted athlete, scholar, actor, baritone and civil rights crusader. The author initially sets a somber scene: in Little Catfish's hometown, shops are boarded up and the Regal Theater, whose marquee once heralded appearances by such stars as Robeson, Duke Ellington and Marian Anderson, is now a community center. Odell Davis, the theater's elderly caretaker, becomes a mentor to Little Catfish, regaling him with tales of Robeson's accomplishments, and paving the way for a rebirth for the town as the Royal is restored, stores reopen and trees are replanted. Belton shifts between a third-person narrator whose measured words recall a honeyed movie voiceover (“And so it happened just that way. Without anybody realizing it at the time, something new on that street got planted”) and the more conversationally expressed viewpoints of Little Catfish and an older, rebellious boy. An earnest, if heavy-handed, entreaty to simultaneously look forward and remember past heroes. Ages 8-12. (Jan.)

Cohn (Gingerbread) delves into her darker side as she probes a teen's suicide and the painful repercussions for her loved ones. After her best friend and first cousin, Laura, kills herself with an overdose of prescription drugs, 17-year-old Miles is shattered: the person Miles believed would always be there for her has left without even saying goodbye. And when her flaky mother flees town to mourn with her boyfriend in London, Miles is left alone with Laura's father to endure a summer of grief at his D.C. estate. A prescription-drug addict herself, Miles must embark upon a journey of self-discovery if she is to survive. Cohn once again excels at crafting a multidimensional, in-the-moment teenage world, this time without recourse to her usual witty style. There is a bleakness to her language that superbly suits this sad, somber tale. Her work is heartbreaking, at times excruciating to read, but it rings with authenticity. In pursuing Miles's responses, she spares few details, neither the methods via which Miles and Laura procure their pills nor the actual medical causes of Laura's supposedly peaceful death. The tragedy of teen suicide has been the subject of countless novels, yet rarely has it been discussed with such gritty realism. Ages 12-up. (Mar.)

This book about a former misfit who must face her troubled childhood is dark and engrossing, thanks to Zarr's (Story of a Girl) full-bodied characters and creative storytelling. Through well-timed flashbacks, thin, popular high school senior Jenna remembers being fat Jennifer, who along with her best friend, Cameron, endures teasing in elementary school and a hard home life (her single mother is almost never home, and his abusive father traumatizes both children). After Cameron moves away, Jennifer's cruel classmates tell her he has died, and her mother corroborates the story; readers may find it hard to believe the subsequent revelation that she has, in fact, lied. But they will appreciate how honestly Jenna reveals the toll it takes on her when Cameron suddenly reappears, transferring into her senior class (she starts stealing and binge-eating again); their rekindled connection forces her to decide if “Jenna” is really who she wants to be. There is harsh material here, in the characters' presents as well as their pasts: Cameron is now an emancipated minor, and Jenna's family temporarily takes him in when he becomes homeless. Flashbacks to a horrifying episode with Cameron's father are revealed slowly and carefully, filling readers with a sense of dread, but ultimately her memories teach Jenna something surprising about her own strength. Other realistically flawed characters, from a mother who must learn truly to help her daughter to Cameron himself, round out this complex and bittersweet story of friendship and the meaning of “unfinished business.” Ages 12-up. (Feb.)

When teenage dino-enthusiast Tyler Lyson found a few dinosaur vertebrae on his uncle's South Dakota ranch in 2000, he didn't yet know that the bones belonged to one of the best-preserved dinosaurs ever located—dubbed a “dinomummy” because some of the hadrosaur's scaly skin had been fossilized as well. Lyson contacted Manning, a paleontologist at the University of Manchester, to help recover and study the hadrosaur, which came to be nicknamed Dakota. The first half of the book, which features realistic, computer-generated depictions of colorful, active dinosaurs, conjectures what Dakota's life might have been like 65 million years ago, and sets up the mystery of his death (“Strangely, there are no signs of injury to this body. If he was killed by the Tyrannosaurus rex, why wasn't he torn to pieces? Why wasn't he eaten?”). The rest of the book focuses on the discovery and excavation, as well as what scientists learned, including their explanation for why Dakota's body remained so well preserved. Although dino enthusiasts on the younger end of the target audience may need parental help with some terms and information, they should be captivated by both the dramatic account of prehistoric life and the up-close look at a modern dig (not to mention the attention-getting die-cut cover, through which a luminous dino-eye peers). Both Manning and Lyson found their first dinosaur bones when they were children, backing up Lyson's claim that “anyone can hunt for and find dinosaurs”—a message that will go over big with readers. Ages 6-up. (Dec.)

Nelson (Steel Drivin' Man: John Henry, The Untold Story of an American Legend) offers a highly accessible version of his research into whether or not the John Henry of folksong fame was a real person. Piecing together a panoply of facts and personal anecdotes that go back to his boyhood, the author models the study of history as an active and passionate pursuit: “For years I had been following a trail, and it was stone cold.... And then... I suddenly saw it, the clue that changed everything.” This cliffhanger at the end of the first chapter draws readers into Nelson's journey through the song lyrics, old prison documents, maps, photographs and other primary and secondary sources. From “trackliners” (workers, often African-American, who aligned rails) to steam drills to Civil War history, the first-person narrative follows Nelson as he plays detective. Seemingly diverse information presented in each of nine chapters becomes knit together by the conclusion, and visually unified by an aesthetically pleasingly layout that features a reddish brick palette with tinted photos and prints. One graphic—and telling—photo reveals the remains of two African-African men discovered on the grounds of a Virginia prison: John Henry, posits the author, was part of a huge prisoner work force hired out to tunnel through mountains for the railroad companies. Convincing and dramatic, this volume makes a good case that history is a living science. Ages 10-14. (Jan.)

Keller, executive editor of the New York Times, offers a balanced, thoughtful account of Mandela's political activism and accomplishments and his pivotal role in South Africa's modern history. The book's title is a translation of Mandela's birth name, Rohihlahla, which, both fittingly and ironically, refers to a troublemaker. As bureau chief for the Times in Johannesburg from 1992 to 1995 (he won a Pulitzer Prize for his work there), Keller witnessed Mandela's campaign for president and South Africa's transition from apartheid to granting full citizenship—and voting rights—to black and white South Africans alike. Keller's personal experience and contact with Mandela imbues his often graceful prose with immediacy and offers insight into the leader's personality (“In my time watching him at work, I often marveled at his ability to wear down hostility through endless patience, gentle humor, and charm”). Reprints of 15 pertinent Times articles, four written by Keller, give additional dimension to the biography, although the graphically intense design—packed with dramatic photos, swathes of paint,handprints and images of the African continent—may be somewhat cluttered (color art not seen by PW). A solid portrait of an awe-inspiring man. Ages 10-14. (Jan.)