Children's Book Reviews: Week of 4/14/2008

Begin, who illustrated Chronicle’s 2002 edition of The Wind in the Willows, invades that classic to produce a new series, billed as “friendship stories inspired by The Wind in the Willows”; she rewinds Kenneth Grahame’s narrative chronology and imagines how his characters became friends—or “buds.” This first installment, like the others based on “great-great-uncle Ratty’s diary,” tells how Mrs. B. becomes a nanny for the unruly Toady and brings along a “special someone,” her son, Badger. “Toady was horrified. 'I’m the only special someone at Toad Hall!’ he grumbled.” Many in the preschool set will recognize Toady’s toy-hoarding antics, which are cured in a concise but sorely predictable narrative. Begin’s watercolor-and-pastel illustrations render the duo almost in three dimensions, Toady like a rubber toy and Badger as a plush, with expressive faces and especially large eyes. Packaged in a small trim size, the stylized paintings in jewel-toned hues will appeal to the intended audience, though they’re a definite departure from the Ernest Shepard incarnations. Why Grahame’s turf must be pressed into service for dreary didactic storytelling, however, remains baffling. Ages 3-6. (Apr.)

Although it doesn’t sail to the heights of That New Animal, this newest dog-driven story from Jenkins and Pratt proves again that author and illustrator are brilliantly simpatico. Enthusiastic, obedient, talented and even bilingual, Dumpling is beloved by her humans. Unfortunately, her anteater-like nose is useless. And that means “no dog friends. None. Without a sense of smell, she couldn’t relate.” How Dumpling finally gains a friend (its identity is hinted at in the title), and holds onto her companion against all odds makes for a touching tribute both to the hunger for connection and to the vitality of the human-dog bond. Jenkins writes in a thoughtful, urbane tone that never feels forced; when she uses a word like “paroxysms,” it’s out of respect for her audience’s intelligence, not to win points with winking irony. And while Dumpling may have a malfunctioning nose, Pratt makes everything else about her marvelously expressive. Whether she’s dutifully sitting for a caress or springing for joy, Dumpling’s eager eyes, vigilant ears and sausagelike physique are like a valentine to all things doggie. Ages 4-8. (May)

Brighton (My Tour of Europe by Teddy Roosevelt Age Ten) follows the great silent actor and filmmaker Buster Keaton from his birth to vaudeville parents to his early 30s, when he emerged as a daring comic auteur. The helicopter-parented generation should find the stories of Keaton’s itinerant, rough-and-tumble showbiz life tantalizing: he got his start at age three when his father literally threw him across the stage (“Keep your eye on the kid!”), and he attended only one day of school (“Yep, I got expelled for wisecracking, and that was it. I never went back. Ever”). Brighton has created many picture biographies, and this may be her best effort yet. The tough-talking first-person narration has the cadence of someone who was treated as an adult almost from birth; the detailed images evoke the mise-en-scène of silent movies and give a dreamy grace to even the most slapstick moments. Readers of any age will close the book with an itch to see Keaton’s movies—or at least catch his most famous scenes on YouTube. Ages 5-8. (Apr.)

McFig and McFly start out as happy neighbors, and their children (a girl named Rosie and boy named Anton, respectively) quickly become soulmates. But the two men soon find themselves caught up in a competition to see who can build the bigger, better house: “Eyebrow windows versus fish-scale shingles... gabled dormers versus Dutch doors... It all got so fancy that neither McFig nor McFly knew what anything meant anymore, except that they had to outdo each other at any cost.” An expansive foldout center spread captures the two Gaudi-esque follies in full glory—and also signals the beginning of the end. With the passing of a generation, the madness stops, love blooms and the title’s parenthetical resolution is achieved. Drescher is ever the master of illustration-as-fever-dream, and his writing has the redolent, chummy feel of a fireside tale. But Rosie and Anton are rather pallid, passive reader-surrogates (they’re even drawn far more conventionally than the grotesque McFig and McFig), and kids may have trouble connecting with the story. The real audience for this mixture of cautionary themes and architectural detailing may be adults who have undergone renovation hell—or renovation envy. Ages 5-up. (May)

Just the title of this tongue-in-cheek catalogue of historical scofflaws is enough to attract readers. In her first children’s book, Lucke sustains kids’ interest with a larkish mix of humor, wordplay and historical references, served up with witty, full-spread paintings. Napoleon Bonaparte, for example, is portrayed as a spoiled child: “He saw Italy and said, 'Mine.’ He pointed to Holland, Spain, Austria, Russia, and England and said, “Mine, all mine,’ ” which, the author notes, earned him two timeouts on two separate islands. He is shown sitting petulantly, burning maps of Europe; Lucke renders him, like the other subjects, with an outsize head, and against a dramatic backdrop (in this case, in an entirely red room). A breezy narrative whips across the centuries, highlighting the “transgressions” of 14 historical figures, among them Cleopatra, Bach, Susan B. Anthony and Babe Ruth. Some ambiguous references might inspire readers to do a little more research: What exactly landed Louis Armstrong in a youth home? What kind of “time out” did Rosa Parks get for refusing to give up her seat on the bus? A lively path into history. Ages 6-9. (Apr.)

Yaccarino (Trashy Town) invites readers to jump into the Farley family station wagon for an old-fashioned road trip. Beginning in Maine and winding—page by colorful page—down the Eastern seaboard and across America, this informative, outsize paper-over-board book integrates text and eye-popping art to highlight ridiculous but true tidbits about each state. From funny outdated laws (in Atlanta it’s illegal to tie a giraffe to a telephone pole) to weird tourist attractions (e.g., West Virginia’s roadkill cook-off), the Farleys take one zany adventure. The often anachronistic factoids are matched by the vintage feel of bold ’50s-style graphic illustrations, complete with brightly colored speech bubbles. The Farley family members (Mom, Dad, Freddie, Fran and Fido) pop from each page, alongside cowboys, classic cars and superheroes. Presented as a diverting read-aloud, this book sneaks in a fair amount of history and geography, despite its meandering organization. A section at the end offers more traditional information (state flowers, capitals, square miles, etc.). Ages 7-10. (Apr.)

Despite its arresting cover and its focus on animal poems, this collection lacks consistency. The 14 poems highlight intriguing collective nouns and alternate between clever descriptions of real-life animals and off-the-wall fantasies about them. But often the poems’ meters are wobbly, the conceits are labored, and the rhymes are off-center or forced. Likewise, Huber’s intricate scratchboard illustrations, most of them enhanced with colored ink, are unevenly executed. They marvelously capture the delicate veins in a “charm of butterflies,” the bold black-and-white designs contained in a “crossing of zebras” and the terror of a scarecrow confronting a “murder of crows.” But when depicting other animals, like “a pounce of alley cats” or the armor-clad “crash of rhinos,” the figures seem rigid and awkward. Sometimes the illustrations do not match a poem’s content—only 17 of the author’s 22 “cartload of monkeys” are shown, and the “band of coyotes”giving a 1960s “psychedelic” concert “talking ’bout my generation” include, oddly, members tooting a kazoo and a hunting horn. A note from the author explains the etymologies of some favorite collective nouns. Patricia MacCarthy’s unfortunately out-of-print Herds of Words remains the exemplar of this concept. Ages 8-12. (Apr.)

Newbery Medalist Avi (Crispin: The Cross of Lead) sets this intriguing ghost story in 19th-century New York City, where a photographer’s apprentice has a horrifying run-in with a spirit bent on revenge. In the fall of 1872, 14-year-old narrator Horace Carpetine reluctantly becomes involved in his employer’s scheme to dupe a superstitious client, wealthy Mrs. Von Macht. The plan is to make a tidy profit by producing a double exposure and offering her an unusual portrait, one incorporating a superimposed image of her dead daughter, Eleanora. Events depart from the expected when the ghost of Eleanora literally enters the picture, and Horace discovers his ability to capture departed souls on film. Suspense builds as the Von Machts’ servant, Pegg, reveals secrets about the Von Macht family and explains that Eleanor’s angry spirit, brought back into the world through the camera lens, may want revenge on both Mrs. Von Macht and her husband. Mirroring both the style and themes of gothic novels of the period, the story takes ghastly and ghostly turns that challenge Horace’s belief in reason. Details about photographic processes add authenticity, while the book’s somber ending will leave spines tingling. Ages 8-12. (Apr.)

Percy Jackson’s fourth summer at Camp Half-Blood is much like his previous three—high-octane clashes with dark forces, laced with hip humor and drama. Opening with a line for the ages—“The last thing I wanted to do on my summer break was blow up another school”—this penultimate series installment finds Percy, Annabeth and the satyr Grover furiously working to prevent former camp counselor Luke from resurrecting the Titan lord Kronos, whose goal is to overthrow the gods. When the heroes learn that Luke can breach Camp Half-Blood’s security through an exit from Daedalus’s Labyrinth, they enter the maze in search of the inventor and a way to stop the invasion. Along the way they encounter a lifetime supply of nightmare-inducing, richly imagined monsters. Grover’s own quest to find the lost god Pan, meanwhile, provides a subtle environmental message. Percy, nearly 15, has girl trouble, having become something of a chick magnet. One of Riordan’s strengths is the wry interplay between the real and the surreal. When the heroes find Hephaestus, for instance, he’s repairing a Toyota, wearing overalls with his name embroidered over the chest pocket. The wit, rousing swordplay and breakneck pace will once again keep kids hooked. Ages 10-up. (May)

Dean (the A-List series) is as of the moment as Us Weekly when it comes to fashion and celebrity lifestyles. Her devotees will lap up this first installment of her new series, this time about the cutthroat lives of the middle-school set, daughters of Hollywood royalty. The chapters switch between four “rising eighths”—Mac, Becks, Coco and the about-to-be “discovered” Emily from Iowa. The story has zero girl-bonding sweetness and all the backstabbing, social-climbing and girls living life as if they’re adults that genre fans expect and love. There may not be a single redeeming value among these mocktail-drinking characters (with the possible exception of Emily), but with name brand–dropping every other sentence, sometimes in clever prose—“What in the world did Ruby Goldman have up her cropped James Perse sleeve?”—together with super-catty dialogue and gossipy prose, the page-turning becomes compulsive. Ages 12-up. (June)

SF author Doctorow (Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom), coeditor of the influential blog BoingBoing, tells a believable and frightening tale of a near-future San Francisco, victimized first by terrorists and then by an out-of-control Department of Homeland Security determined to turn the city into a virtual police state. Innocent of any wrongdoing beyond cutting school, high school student and techno-geek Marcus is arrested, illegally interrogated and humiliated by overzealous DHS personnel who also “disappear” his best friend, Darryl, along with hundreds of other U.S. citizens. Moved in part by a desire for revenge and in part by a passionate belief in the Bill of Rights, Marcus vows to drive the DHS out of his beloved city. Using the Internet and other technologies, he plays a dangerous game of cat and mouse, disrupting the government’s attempts to create virtually universal electronic surveillance while recruiting other young people to his guerilla movement. Filled with sharp dialogue and detailed descriptions of how to counteract gait-recognition cameras, arphids (radio frequency ID tags), wireless Internet tracers and other surveillance devices, this work makes its admittedly didactic point within a tautly crafted fictional framework. Ages 13-up. (May)

Spare and disturbing, Belgian author Moeyaert’s (It’s Love We Don’t Understand) novella makes few concessions to readers. American audiences will be grateful for the jacket copy, which identifies the setting as Belgium in the summer of 1939 and explains that the protagonist, 10-year-old Bing, misses his older brother, Mone, who has been drafted into the army; the information can only be intuited from very close attention to the text. Bing shares a dark secret with local soccer star Dani Bennoni. Bing uses this to try to force Dani to teach him to play soccer; he hopes that Mone will return to “a brother he can finally play soccer with.” When Dani refuses, Bing sets up an argument between Dani and village girls. Events unfold quickly and are told mostly in dialogue, from Bing’s point of view. The revelation of Dani and Bing’s secret—that Dani pays Bing to pull down his trousers—feels explosive, all the more so because it is handled as elliptically as every other development. Not a casual read, this may be best reserved for those interested in the art of story construction. Ages 14-up. (Apr.)

Signature

Reviewed by Jon J Muth

The day before Traces arrived on my doorstep, I saw a red fox dash across a field into the woods near my house. I wondered if it had some means of moving through the snow without leaving prints, because I couldn’t find any tracks.

We do not move through the world without leaving a wake. This is both a joy and a sobering reminder of our situation. It is also the subject of Fox and Kuskin’s delicate, graceful, new picture book.

Fox, the author of many excellent books, often for young readers, gives the book an energetic and distilled poetry. The opening and recurring line,“Something, someone was just here,” creates the rhythm and the words, and pictures interlace to address the mystery that holds our interest—who is it? She is such a fine writer that it’s a real delight when she steps fully into the wonder of children’s thinking and asks, do shadows sometimes stay, after we leave?

Children draw with an earnestness that is impossible to counterfeit. Its beauty cannot usually be coaxed out by an adult hand. The charming medallion sun, torn-paper clouds and watercolor ribbon of the horizon found on these spreads all feel like the naïve and studious work of a dedicated seven-year-old. Their matter-of-factness is disarming. By choosing to make the pictures this way, Kuskin, a poet who both writes and illustrates, is literally revealing the traces her hand leaves behind. This choice fits the premise of the book beautifully.

The illustrations are almost all double-page spreads, which work well in creating an environment to discover the passage of each creature who travels through it. The pictures are much fun and fit the story perfectly.

Near the end, in collage artwork describing “something” that leaves its traces in “scraps of paper waving,” we see a piece of newspaper headline with reference to the tragedy at the Beslan School in North Ossetia, Russia, in 2004. Another refers to Iraq, and another mentions Israel, the U.S. and the Palestinians. The wonder and sense of isolated discovery in the rest of the book—crinkly paper flowers, dinosaur feet leaving tracks, children’s shadows without their young casters—are left behind, and we are bounced out of the fictional dream.

The reason the red fox I saw left no prints is that the fox and its tracks were one and the same. When the fox left, its tracks went with it. All traces left with its intentions. Humans aren’t like this. Our traces resonate for a very long time.

I now want to read the book these two extraordinarily talented artists will create when they speak directly to the issue they’ve raised. Ages 7-9. (Apr.)

Jon J Muth, who received a Caldecott Honor for Zen Shorts, is most recently the author/illustrator of Zen Ties (Scholastic, Feb.).