Children's Book Reviews

Continuing to innovate, Sabuda enhances the already powerful enchantments of J.M. Barrie's classic 1902 tale with astonishing paper engineering. Illustrations suggest a hybrid of period styles, somewhere between arts and crafts, with their rich patterning, and art nouveau, with their Tiffany glass–like outlines and colorations. At first Sabuda's techniques look familiar if splendid. Pop-up story booklets are tucked to the side of imposing pop-ups that dominate a full spread: enormous clouds (these are shaped like characters) billow over a 3-D London nightscape on the opening spread; to the left, the text begins on narrow pages that unfold to include pop-ups of Nana, Wendy stitching Peter's shadow and more. As the book continues, Sabuda's work becomes more surprising—Captain Hook slides down a hollow tree—until, on a final climactic spread, an entire pirate ship pops up, masts, Jolly Roger and all. Not to be missed. All ages. (Nov.)

DePaola's timeless Tuscan heroine trades in her magic spells in a pop-up book that will be best appreciated by kids who already know Strega Nona, Big Anthony and the rest. There's little storytelling: the initial spread has a small autobiographical inset “by” Strega Nona (complete with pop-ups) and a text box in Strega Nona's voice, declaring her intention to pass along her own and Grandma Concetta's secrets “for a magical life.” The first of these is “famiglia—family”; accordingly, Sabuda and Reinhart (Encyclopedia Mythologica) supply a towering tree from which ancestors' portraits bloom and from which a swing hangs, holding Strega Nona. Elsewhere, Strega Nona's friends dine under a grape arbor; Big Anthony slides into the village square on an avalanche of pasta; Strega Nona's pasta pot overflows with red hearts (her “secret ingredient” is love). Don't look for Sabuda and Reinhart's most jaw-dropping work: built for relatively young hands (though not for toddlers), this book has few movable parts, and the interactive elements, like lift-the-flap shutters and doors on village houses, are clearly labeled for durability's sake. All ages. (Oct.)

Not as clever as van Lieshout's Bloom! A Little Book About Finding Love, this small-format, paper-over-board picture book features a seal hero who wakes up feeling sad. With sparse b&w cartoons splashed with blue and yellow and in succinct text, van Lieshout deftly depicts the downhearted seal as he looks out at the horizon, sobbing: “Don't bother rising today, sun.” But he feels worse when the sun heeds his request and floats toward him instead. Like a circus seal, Splash bounces the yellow sun higher and higher, eventually pushing it into place and recovering his own spirits: “The sun is up... and so am I.” As in Bloom, the book's chief strength is the interplay of the expressive drawings and the concise text, supported by gutsy typographical treatment. Words grow to Brobdingnagian heights (“Why me?” dominates a spread of a miserable Splash alone on a tiny ice floe) and create movement (as in “boing,” shown multiply in yellow, in various sizes, to reinforce the bouncing ball). The design, credited to Molly Leach, deserves top marks. All ages. (Oct.)

In this less frenetic, oversize cousin to the Where's Waldo? books, German author/artist Berner wordlessly portrays the ways people and places change over the course of the four seasons. Each of four sections moves readers toward and then away from a city center; the environments are host to a large cast of genial and mostly recurring characters, all of whom seem to have drawn their wardrobes from the Hanna Andersson catalogue. The wealth of mini-narratives that unfold both within the chapters and across the book may leave some yearning for Martin Handford's mischievousness (although one couple does meet, thanks to a banana peel); others may find that while Berner's pictures are far less populated than those in the Waldo books, it's actually more dizzying to focus on many different characters rather than one guy in an unchanging striped shirt and woolly hat. Gradually, however, the liveliness of the pictures and the kindly intentions Berner has for her crew prove winning, and readers of all ages will find themselves flipping pages back and forth to compare, contrast and savor. Ages 2–5. (Nov.)

Rylant and Stringer (previously paired for Scarecrow) celebrate winter wonderlands in a cozy, lyrical tribute. Whether they encounter heavy snow that buries “cars up to their noses,” or the best snow of all, the kind “that comes softly in the night, like a shy friend afraid to knock, so she thinks she'll just wait in the yard until you see her,” kids embrace the precipitation. Author and illustrator largely look through a nostalgic lens. Rylant wistfully observes the snow's fleeting beauty and the passage of time; Stringer casts a granddaughter and grandmother duo in the lead roles. The result can feel more like a stroll down memory lane (or a preparation for one) than a childlike, in-the-moment romp. Stringer takes full advantage of the book's oversize dimensions and offers a range of perspectives. Her acrylic illustrations brim with blue-white crystal creations—flurries, drifts and snowflakes, no two alike. And when winter asserts itself at twilight, Stringer also shows grandmother and granddaughter staying warm inside, happy to be together: “It's the snow's turn now,” Rylant says as Stringer offers an aerial view of the house, “We'll watch it fall.” Like snow, the ending achieves a perfect silence. Ages 3–7. (Nov.)

Ballet and fairy tales, a sure-fire combination for romantically minded young readers, receive the friendliest of treatments in this handsome, oversize volume. Ella Bella is captivated when Madame Rosa instructs the class (“my darlings”) to “imagine you are fairies” and plays the music from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty ballet. Intrigued, Ella stays after class, opens Madame Rosa's music box and, “just like magic,” the music starts and she dances herself into the fairy tale. The Lilac Fairy guides her through the various dramas and happy ending. Mayhew's (Katie Meets the Impressionists) light touch keeps the story from being overblown or fussy: when Ella sees the spindle being proffered to Princess Aurora, she “remembered the bad fairy's spell. 'Don't touch it!' she called. But Aurora did not hear.” The breezy, dynamic lines of his illustrations, as well as the subdued colors, make the magical turn of events seem entirely natural. While Mayhew offers no surprises, his easygoing delivery is bound to engage anyone whose imagination is inspired by music, dancing, princes and princesses. Ages 4–8. (Nov.)

Call it a book or a toy, this meticulously engineered title will thrill art-loving, visually oriented children (and their parents). A sturdy pocket inside the back cover holds 2,000 translucent, easily reusable stickers in a host of basic geometric shapes and sizes (think of classic Colorforms); in standard printers' versions of red (magenta), blue (cyan) and yellow, the stickers can be overlapped to produce secondary colors—it's instant color theory, literally at a child's fingertips. To jump-start readers' imaginations, the book's heavy, laminated pages contain examples of complicated figures assembled from the shapes (rocket ships, animals, scarecrows); extrapolating, precocious children might begin to recognize geometric shapes as fundamental elements in the objects around them. Other spreads evoke backdrops via a few gray lines and one or two objects that could be replicated with the stickers (the printed colors are exact matches for the stickers, too). Unobtrusive, deceptively basic questions on these spreads stretch a younger child's thinking: “Can you add more trees to make a forest? What animals live in the forest?” Blank pages invite unfettered play. Car trip, anyone? Ages 5–up. (Nov.)

Mini superhero Urso Brunov, the brave bear “no taller than your very own thumb,” is back on duty (following The Tale of Urso Brunov). His mission: to rescue two lost polar bear cubs and return them to their home in the Land of Rainbow Lights. Natchev's soft, detailed watercolors complement Jacques's formal tones; together they create a traditional storybook universe in which the hero overcomes obstacles to complete his assignment. In the less than gripping tale, however, the obstacles pose no real dangers for masterful, fearless Urso Brunov. He solves almost every crisis by reminding the cubs of his reputation, blowing his bugle and summoning aid from another creature. Natchev garbs Urso Brunov in a Cossack-style uniform, which, together with the textural art, suggests the ambience of Eastern European picture books of generations past. The art provides plenty of visual variety, from snarling wolves baring sharp teeth to rainbow-colored geese soaring through the night sky, which helps hold readers' attention but cannot overcome repetitious sequences and a prolix text. Ages 6–8. (Oct.)

Adding to their books about animals who respond to dire situations with inspiring behavior, the Hatkoffs (Owen and Mzee) team with the conservation director of Wildlife Direct, Kahumbu, to describe how a 31-member mountain gorilla family mobilizes itself to rescue and then raise Miza, orphaned under mysterious circumstances before she is two. The story is more ambitious than any the Hatkoffs have previously told, and they only partly fulfill their crowded agenda: explaining the dynamics of a gorilla family and the needs of the young; explaining the role of park rangers; and explaining the danger of extinction (the mountain gorillas of Virunga National Park in the Democratic Republic of Congo, where Miza's family lives, make up 380 of the world's 700 remaining mountain gorillas, and they are threatened by poachers, people who steal coal or lumber from the park, and militias). The photos vary in quality: a few are crisp, but sections of a number of photos look bleached out. Kids will feel the emotional impact, but they will also hear the authors straining: “[Miza's story] also reminds us of the adage, 'Seek and ye shall find,' ” they conclude. “And that is the true story of looking for Miza.” Ages 7–up. (Oct.)

It's not just the jacket that's strikingly similar to Melissa Marr's Wicked Lovely: debut novelist Livingston, too, delivers a lost-now-found faerie princess; a dark, brooding changeling love interest; faerie royalty and warring faerie courts (summer and winter), with accompanying threats to the human world. As a read-alike, this book inescapably invites comparison, and fans of Marr (or Holly Black) may be disappointed. The author offers a promising variation: she uses Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream as a window onto the faerie world (17-year-old heroine Kelley Winston, an aspiring actress, steps from understudy into the role of Titania). But the Shakespeare device will also be familiar to many YA readers, and it embellishes rather than advances the plot. The shining performance belongs to Sonny Flannery—neither human nor faerie, he is a member of the changeling guard that watches the gates between the human and the fey realms. Sonny is detailed to the gate in Manhattan's Central Park, where he and Kelley meet. Readers may want less Kelley, who comes across as naïve, and more Sonny, finding in him a worthy hero and romantic interest. Ages 12–up. (Dec.)

The last word is “Hope,” yet Reeve (Mortal Engines) injects deep cynicism into every other phrase of this Arthurian fable. As he tells it, Myrddin the “enchanter” is a charlatan of high degree, possessing no magic but a mastery of storytelling and fraud. Gwyna, the narrator, is perhaps nine years old when Myrddin sees her swim down a river to escape a house set afire by callous, marauding warlord Arthur. Myrddin promptly disguises her first as the Lady of the Lake and then as a boy apprentice. Gwyna soon learns to trust no one, doubt everything and scorn both male and female roles. She even becomes skeptical of the empire-building ambition behind Myrddin's efforts to recast Arthur's unremarkable exploits as the stuff of legend. Nodding to canon and history while not particularly following either (Lancelot and Morgan le Fay are notably absent), Reeve, like Myrddin, turns hallowed myth and supple prose to political purposes, neatly skewering the modern-day cult of spin and the age-old trickery behind it. Smart teens will love this. Ages 12–up. (Nov.)

Two misfits form an important friendship in Zemser's (Beyond the Mango Tree) hilarious—and surprisingly moving—novel. Elaine Hamilton prepares gourmet French meals for her family nightly, writes letters to Julia Child (but does not mail them) and dreams of the Cordon Bleu; Lucida Sans, who named herself after the typeface, occupies herself with “getting attention—and lots of it,” as she wishes chiefly to be famous. After they meet (when Lucida accidentally triggers a fire at a town festival), Lucida quickly convinces Elaine to join her schemes, such as punking her rival (and sometimes boyfriend) into performing for a fake audition. Finally noticing Elaine's chef skills, she gets her shy friend to tape a cooking show. Zemser knows how to write kooky: Lucida constantly dresses in costume and her narcissistic sometimes boyfriend writes terrible plays: “Some of them don't even have characters,” carps Lucida; over-the-top scenes include a last-minute appearance by Julia Child, who whispers a secret tip in Elaine's ear. Readers will laugh throughout, but Zemser never loses sight of Elaine's frailties and hopes. Ages 12–up. (Oct.)

Set in a futuristic fantasy city, this book puts a fun spin on fairy tales: fairies exist, but you may wish they did not. Charlie has a parking fairy, which means any driver Charlie is with can always find a choice spot (which in turn means that every time the brutish star jock at school gets behind a wheel he nabs Charlie). Charlie walks everywhere, hoping to ditch her fairy and the jock—but then she racks up tardiness demerits at her strict sports school. When Fiorenze, whose all-boys-will-like you fairy has captured Charlie's crush, also wants to get rid of her fairy, they team up to steal secret research compiled by Fiorenze's mother, an expert on fairies. It takes Larbalestier (the Magic or Madness trilogy) a long time to reach this point, but from here the pace quickens. The girls switch fairies, creating more trouble and pushing the girls to some serious (and seriously funny) extremes. Suggesting rather than exploiting the fictional possibilities of Charlie's city, which has as many rules as it has fairies, this vividly imagined story will charm readers. Ages 12–up. (Oct.)

Set in the '80s, this smart, bold confessional addresses a volatile topic—a high school student's affair with a married teacher. High school junior Edna feels particularly vulnerable. She has irrational fears that she may be partially responsible for her mother's cancer and for the long-ago death of her six-year-old autistic brother. Her flirtations with art teacher Mr. Howland are a welcome distraction at first, but when their mutual infatuation spins out of control, leading to risky displays of affection and rendezvous, Edna wants out. Debut author Levchuk creates a distinctive and memorable voice for Edna—her hidden concerns and her secrets come to make emotional sense for readers as Edna begins to understand and move past them, while her wit and wry candor hint at a reserve of deep, even flinty optimism. Ages 14–up. (Nov.)

What's a straight boy from New Jersey doing in a place like Dishes, a gay bar in a predominantly gay Maine tourist town? The answer, as revealed in this savvy coming-of-age novel: trying to make a connection with his absentee dad. But it isn't easy for college dropout Danny to develop a relationship with his father, Jack, who was 17 when Danny was born and who still lives like a teenager. Even though they share an apartment and work at the same bar (Jack mixes drinks, Danny washes dishes), they don't have much in common. But while Jack stays out most nights, Danny gets to know other people in town: his mostly gay co-workers and customers, and a girl he meets while out for his daily run. Taking a departure from sports-themed fiction, Wallace (Wrestling Sturbridge) looks beneath stereotypes about gays and teen fatherhood as he shares Danny's induction into a new subculture. The author's ear for dialogue and sharp timing will keep readers turning pages to find out who will grow up first, Danny or his dad. Ages 14–up. (Oct.)