Children's Book Reviews: Week of 5/19/2008

Although their title implies an aquatic variation of the Aesop fable, Donaldson and Scheffler (creators of The Gruffalo) turn out a different animal altogether. True, diminutive Tiddler is given to tall tales (“Sorry I'm late... on the way to school I was captured by a squid”). But while no one believes them, his stories save his life when he gets lost: a frightened Tiddler discovers that creatures have been passing on his improbable stories to one another in a kind of chain—and if he follows that chain in reverse, he'll end up right back home. Donaldson's rhyming text is crisp and clean, leaving plenty of metaphorical room for Scheffler's expansively imagined art. Always gifted at conjuring up entire worlds (even his spot illustrations feel animated and lovingly detailed), he creates an ocean effervescent with texture, color and vividly expressive personalities. And Tiddler is an excellent reader surrogate: spunky, wide-eyed and ultimately triumphant. Ages 3–5. (May)

“It's been a wonderful eight years... but I need a break,” says Brian, exhausted from school, soccer and broccoli-eating. Toting golf clubs, he boards a plane to Florida. At the Happy Sunset Retirement Community, Brian plays cards, naps in undisturbed turquoise pools and learns that retirement entails “looking at hundreds of snapshots of Myrtle's grandchildren, or watching long documentaries on TV”; he frowns at early-morning yoga and gags on “prune juice smoothies.” Drafted in crayony black line with daubs of gouache, Agee's (Milo's Hat Trick) orderly images of landscaped lawns, neat palm trees and low-rise condos ironically suggest a hushed relaxation antithetical to Brian's energy level. When a fellow retiree suggests Brian “think back to the good old days,” the boy fondly recalls acing a math test, hitting the perfect note at a violin lesson and playing with his dog, then decides to come out of retirement. “I love my job!” he concludes. Agee has perfected the art of satire that is not only devoid of archness but even makes room for sympathy. Witty and fresh, yet not irreverent. Ages 4–8. (June)

The impish conceit of this zany book is that America's 50 state birds are taking part in a “United Tweets” pageant emceed by a bald eagle (“And now we'll tell you a little something about each bird and the state they call home”). Talbott lists the nickname and state bird for each state, then supplies other information that is so random and delivered in such tongue-in-cheek fashion that fact may look like deliciously outrageous fiction. The Mississippi Mockingbird, for example, shown sporting an Elvis Presley haircut and jeweled cape, is said to be known as the “King of Song.” Throughout, birds tease each other from across the pages (“You wanna piece o' me?” “Eat my tail feathers!”), and in the end they all fight over which will be named “Top Tweet.” Short on ornithology and long on humor, this book is especially good at state trivia (for Minnesota, more than 10 popular items invented there, including Scotch tape and water skis; the state dance of South Carolina; etc.). Ages 6–8. (May)

Like a gallery show, pop artist Albert's first book immerses readers in his striking collages, which are constructed mostly from instantly recognizable materials like Cheerios boxes, KFC buckets and the like. The power of the art derives partially from the instant recognition of these items—viewers cannot help identifying these logos, no matter how elaborately they are reorganized or obscured. But Albert also puts his technique to political and social purposes: Ronald McDonald, Snap, Crackle and Pop, and Mr. Peanut are among the hundreds of characters in an elaborate Last Judgment; 56 icons, from Charlie Brown to Mr. Clean, represent the signers of the Declaration of Independence. Most spreads pair one or two works with an artist's statement, while the last pages explain Albert's process step by step, encouraging readers to make their own collages. Characters created for the author's Sir Real line of organic fruit juices (and a lengthy description of the company) appear as well, mostly in context; a photo of Sir Real juices on store shelves, however, crosses into product placement. Ages 7–up. (May)

Nagaraja, a Scottish Buddhist monk, makes his debut with 20 modern versions of Buddhist tales told in relaxed, straightforward prose. Some feature talking animals, Aesop-style, while others star hapless humans. In one, a rich miser is offered a small bowl of rice by a pauper, a gift which transforms him; in another, a magic stag forgives a human who has betrayed him. The earnest lessons these stories teach are reinforced by standalone morals at the conclusions: “All too often we open our mouths in anger.... A wise person thinks before they speak, and if they can't say something kind, they keep silent.” Tancredi's illustrations feature the hard-edged, big-eyed characters found in popular children's media, giving the book a slick look at odds with its lofty aspirations. Ages 8–10. (May)

Identical twins Ray and Jay Grayson prepare for yet another year of being perceived as “two peas in a pod, two ducks on a pond, two spoons in a drawer,” when their family moves from Colorado to Cleveland before the start of sixth grade. But when Ray gets sick on the first day of school and Jay discovers that Ray's school records have been misplaced, the two hatch a plan to alternate attendance, at least for the first week or so, and see what it feels like to be viewed as an individual. This slim story has all the elements readers have come to expect from Clements (Frindle): a school setting, likable secondary characters, supportive adults and a challenge to the audience to see things from a different perspective. While verisimilitude is never a priority in Clements's storytelling, this plot strains more than usual for effect: the Grayson parents seem particularly obtuse to their sons' switches, given how sensitive they turn out to be, and the case against twindom seems heavily (and gratuitously) stacked. The result: an entertaining story in a minor key. Final art not seen by PW. Ages 8–12. (July)

Acclaimed for her sophisticated juggling of art concepts, mystery, philosophy and storytelling, Balliett (Chasing Vermeer) outdoes herself with this ambitious novel. Like its predecessors, it asks readers to consider big ideas, this time using the mobiles of Alexander Calder as a springboard. Now in seventh grade, series heroes Petra, Tommy and Calder first see Calder's mobiles at an exhibit at a Chicago museum. There they are introduced to the “Calder game,” which invites participants to join five ideas or things that move in relation to one another, while looking for “balance, beauty, and surprise.” Three weeks later, Calder accompanies his father to a tiny town near Blenheim Palace in England, where an anonymous donor has installed a Calder sculpture in the ancient town square, much to the villagers' dismay. Curiously, Calder's own presence seems to inspire dismay as well—until he, and the sculpture, simply vanish overnight. The mystery is crafted more solidly than in either of Balliett's previous titles, and the setting—enriched by the hedge maze of Blenheim and the possible proximity of the pseudonymous British artist Banksy—proves completely enticing. And once again Helquist encodes his b&w illustrations with puzzle pieces. Motivated readers will treasure this provocative title. Ages 9–12. (May)

Longtime fans and new readers alike will revel in Jones's self-assured return to the realm she charted in Howl's Moving Castle, a riff on English and German fairytales, and its Arabian Nights–themed sequel, Castle in the Air. When bookish, utterly selfish Charmain leaves home to care for her ailing great-uncle's magical house, she surprises herself by discovering her own hidden talents—and ends up helping save the kingdom of High Norland from the fearsome Lubbock. Brought up by her doting parents to be utterly “respectable” (which in her case translates to being astonishingly useless), Charmain is an unlikely heroine. Yet she easily holds center stage, even when the flamboyant Wizard Howl (of Moving Castle fame) appears midway through the novel. Beguiling enough on their own, Charmain's big and small adventures (bickering with the boy who comes to stay; attempting housework with hilarious results; mediating the disputes of the disgruntled tiny blue men who work behind the scenes) gain an added urgency thanks to the lurking menace of the Lubbock, who is easily among the scariest villains Jones has ever created. A tale to luxuriate in. Ages 12–up. (June)

As riveting as Life as We Knew It and even grittier, this companion novel returns to the premise of that previous book to show how New York City responds to the global disasters that ensue when an asteroid knocks the moon out of orbit. This time Pfeffer focuses on high school junior Alex Morales, whose parents go missing after the catastrophe. It's up to him to find a way to keep himself and his two younger sisters alive while the planet is rocked by famine, floods, freezing temperatures and widespread disease. Once again Pfeffer creates tension not only through her protagonist's day-to-day struggles but also through chilling moral dilemmas: whether to rob the dead, who to save during a food riot, how long to preserve the hope that his parents might return. She depicts death and destruction more graphically than before, making the horror of Alex's ordeal all the more real. Religion also plays a larger role. A devout Catholic, Alex finds his faith in God shaken, but he relies on the guidance, compassion and sacrifice of church leaders in order to stay alive. The powerful images and wrenching tragedies will haunt readers. Ages 12–up. (June)

Vail (You, Maybe) again demonstrates a penetrating insight into the concerns of young teen girls, this time upending the conventions of the rich-girl novel. In the first of a trilogy about three sisters, 14-year-old Phoebe, the appealing narrator, and her two older siblings have been coached to view themselves and their über-successful investor mother as Valkyries (“Nobody—nothing—can intimidate us. We will never back down; we will never surrender,” their mother tells them over breakfast). Less a Valkyrie than a people-pleaser, Phoebe has joined her best friends to plan a lavish eighth-grade graduation party, for which Phoebe has picked out a Vera Wang gown. But when her mother gets fired abruptly for what could be shady dealings, Phoebe is forced to think about money for the first time, and to wonder how much effect it has on her friendships and popularity. Vail gets the relationships exactly right, from the shifting twosomes among the sisters to the changing attitudes among the eighth-grade friends and their parents, and most especially, the shifts in behavior within her protagonist. Readers will absorb this in one fell swoop. Ages 12–up. (May)

When a family fight breaks out in the front yard, Abby Savage is next door with a friend who can't avert his gaze. “He has that look in his eyes that explains exactly why Jerry Springer has been on the air for so long,” Abby says, with a wry detachment that characterizes her determination to break the Savage family pattern. Her mother is pregnant, (probably) by Steve the Guitar Player, who has also dated Abby's sisters, one of whom is also pregnant, also possibly by Steve. Abby's refuge is best friend and neighbor Cody, a gay teen in denial. She is trying mightily to not fall in love with Jackson, Cody's older brother, the other possible father of her sister's baby. A big soap opera fan, Abby views her life comically through a lens that includes amnesia, babies switched at birth and True Love. The humor bubbles consistently; note that the unsavory adults, underage drinking and harassment of gays (Cody is pelted with “butt plugs” at the homecoming dance) push this first novel to an older readership. Ages 12–up. (May)

Dean's first YA novel feels of-the-moment with its hopeful environmentalist message. At its start, Polly, the earthy, wistful 12-year-old protagonist, wakes up to find her teenage sister, wild child Bree, missing. The search goes on in the background as Polly and her friends fight to keep the bulldozers away from her beloved forest, a magical place where Bree could be hiding. Each chapter opens with a description of a medicinal and edible plant that Polly and her wise grandmother find in those woods. This premise sometimes bogs down with mentions of Bree's clichéd problems. But mostly Dean succeeds in creating a fast-paced story and sympathetic characters that eco-minded readers will appreciate. In their deep woods hideout, called Girlwood, Polly and pals uncover secrets about themselves and their world. “The forest could have been Fairyland... the dawn sky like a field of tulips, the new snow twinkling pink, green, and blue, as if even the ground they walked on was enchanted,” Dean writes in a typically lush passage. The best wrought element of the book, though, may not be in the forest at all—it might be the satisfying ending. Ages 12–up. (May)

Series addicts who worried that Gossip Girl's graduation spelled the end of the line can relax: she's still around, in a brand-new spinoff series, and her continued presence promises another generation of OMFG moments. Moving from Nantucket to a swanky penthouse in a prime Manhattan location, the triplet Carlyles waste no time establishing themselves as the ultimate triple threat, causing the reigning St. Jude's boys and Constance B. girls to fight for their Givenchy satchels, boyfriends and girlfriends on the playground of Fifth Avenue. Throughout, devoted readers of Gossip Girl's blog call her out as an imposter, inspiring responses in the snarky vein that won so many real-life readers in the first place: “All I'll say on the topic is this: people always question whether Shakespeare really penned all the great works attributed to him. But we'll never know, will we?” Ages 15–up. (May)

Burningham, a publicist for a New York–based publisher, starts out strong in this book of advice to the adolescent. “Know your parent” is her first bit of wisdom, and to this end she offers a witty set of profiles of the Hippie, the Schoolmarm, the Teen Wannabe, etc.; usefully, she identifies the parental types who fly off the handle and the types who are overprotective, then supplies coping strategies. Elsewhere, it's a mixed bag. Some of her counsel is welcome (how to handle a broken curfew or other misdemeanor); some is superfluous (if you hear your parents' footsteps, stop making out); and some just doesn't fly (if parents won't sanction one-on-one dating, girls should invite the boy over: “And after spending some time with them, your boyfriend will probably think your family is cool—just one more reason you're such a catch!”). Much of the best advice, including Burningham's tactics for negotiating in general, presumes a maturity on the part of readers—but if they can internalize her words, they'll be set for life. Ages 13–up. (May)

Imagine Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl writing a memoir—it would approximate Diamond's voice. Diamond, a blonde who began a modeling career in New York City at age 14, comes off as catty and haughty as she tells what she bills as a harrowing story of her modeling rise, fall and subsequent comeback—“like a phoenix from the ashes.” Given the popularity of shows like America's Next Top Model, her memoir is likely to have a built-in audience, but her writing can be crass (for example, she repeatedly mocks people's foreign accents) and her endless sarcasm grows annoying. The author presumes that such things as putting her tongue in a drink and then feeling “smug with the knowledge” that the woman who drains it has her “cooties” is funny. Readers primed to expect tragedy may find the “career-altering event” that “nearly ruins” Diamond almost laughable: unscrupulous stylists dye her long hair and give her a terrible cut, too. Ages 14–up. (May)