Children's Book Reviews: Week of 4/13/2009

What's almost as important as reading? Schoenherr (Cat & Mouse) tells readers that it's respecting and caring for the books themselves. An anthropomorphized animal cast, meticulously rendered in ink and acrylic—and reminiscent of vintage Golden Book characters (the girls even wear pinafores)—serve as role models of thoughtlessness. Big, friendly type, a soupçon of slapstick and a pinch of wordplay help take the sting off the scolding (which centers on library books but also applies to privately owned books). White backdrops and minimal propping encourage readers to focus all their attention on the characters' breaches of etiquette. “No dog-ears, please,” admonishes the left hand side of one spread, while on the right side a puppy is caught folding down the edge of a page. “Don't censor, delete, or deface,” is the warning given to a shifty-looking fox who is striking out some lines of text with a thick black marker. Simple, direct and knowingly funny, this book is worthy of a permanent spot on the desks of youth librarians everywhere. Ages 2–4. (May)

Although Gorbachev's (Turtle's Penguin Day) whimsical characters are more original than the accompanying text, children who worry about getting lost will find the ending to this simple story extremely satisfying. When the excitable Mrs. Duck points out that one of Mother Hen's seven chicks is gone, the entire neighborhood comes together to find it. Expert watercolor and pen drawings produce an amusing cast—uniformed police dogs, a detective cat, eager beaver firefighters and a plethora of folksy neighbors in overalls and layered skirts. The book's strength rests less in its plot than in the visual details that invite subsequent readings. On nearly every page, increasing numbers of professionals with sirens, flashlights, helicopters, ladders, vehicles and walkie-talkies swarm Mother Hen's house with stoic determination, in contrast to Mrs. Duck's laments (“It's awful, awful, awful!”). Mrs. Duck loudly runs amok until she finds the seventh chick sound asleep in the laundry. A parting image that shows a baby chick asleep in an apron hanging from the clothesline suggests that another search will begin soon. Ages 3–5. (Apr.)

Martha, a young otter, is a girl of many accomplishments and social graces (“She does give hugs. She does share her snack. She does make presents. She does read stories”). But apologizing is definitely not her thing, and after a spectacular day of misbehaving, her family draws the line. No apology? Then no cookies, piggyback rides or hugs. Can Martha rise to the occasion? Comparisons to Olivia may be inevitable, and while Martha isn't playing in that league, she has plenty of charm. Whatley's minimalist composition approach, used to great effect in Diary of a Wombat, returns, though his single-plane perspective grows monotonous. But he never overplays his hand, and his astute portraits (the family members are especially good at upturned noses of disapproval) should elicit giggles. Berger (Junior Goes to School) is a sly, sharp writer who clearly understands just how much is at stake for her heroine, which should make the message go down easy with readers. Ages 3–6. (May)

Taking the idea of “fitting in” literally, Puzzlehead and his friends Mo, Bob, Sue and Stevie use their heads—literally—to figure out how to play. (The whole gang, with oversize heads in unusual geometric shapes, seems to exist in only two dimensions, like paper cutouts.) “Come spin with me, Puzzlehead,” cries Bob, whose T-shaped head fits perfectly into a kind of whirligig, which he spins around on. “That will make me too dizzy,” Puzzlehead replies glumly. At last Puzzlehead locates a space into which his head fits neatly. Though once installed (upside down), “there was not much to do in his perfect Puzzlehead place.” Yang's (the Joey and Jet books) stylish pages are full of typographic whimsy, with dialogue bunched by the heads of the speakers, big capital letters used for emphasis and entire sentences set in curvy lines that match the arc of the action. A clever conclusion brings the whole gang back together and delivers the story's message that—regardless of their shape—a few heads are better than one. Ages 3–6. (Apr.)

Simple, graceful text and images of contentment distinguish this story about the arrival of a younger adopted sibling. Heo's heroine is a girl with black hair and rosy cheeks who finds plenty to do as she waits for her mother to return from Korea with her new baby sister. “Daddy and I say goodbye to Mommy. I have nine days and eight nights.” As Mommy and the girl embrace at the airport gate, Heo's folk-naïve perspective makes the whole airport appear to swell with anticipation—even the colorful airplanes outside look happy. As the girl counts down (“I have six days and five nights,” etc.), rhythmic text confers a feeling of calm. On subsequent days, her father buys new furniture, and her grandmother sews for the baby, as wordless scenes show Mommy's progress in Korea. “At last!” the girl cries, as the family greets Mommy and the tiny bundle. “I have no days and no nights.” Heo (The Green Frogs) writes as if the baby's arrival will be unambiguously joyous, and children who read this book will feel this way, too. Ages 4–8. (May)

Eight-time world pizza dough–tossing champion Gemignani serves up a fictionalized account of just such a championship run. “Hold the anchovies!... This looks important!” Tony says when an invitation to compete in the World Pizza Championship arrives at his pizzeria. He and a co-worker cross the country in the “Pizzamobile,” collecting the remaining four members of their team. In Italy, they clinch the prize with a nifty feat, showcased in a foldout spread: they form a human pyramid—the top fellow reaches his perch via unicycle—while tossing dough. Vivid colors dominate Trueman's (One Beetle Too Many) stylized mixed-media illustrations, which give the team (and their feats) a larger-than-life, modern folk hero quality (whirls of dough, flour and limbs mostly succeed at conveying the movement inherent in this activity). The pizza-obsessed will enjoy facts about quirky pizza toppings around the world, photos of Gemignani's championship team and illustrated dough and pizza recipes, with detailed tossing tips. Enthusiastic narration and pizza puns aplenty (“It's a good thing I ordered an extra-large van”) help make this light, delectable fare. Ages 4–8. (Apr.)

The lure of fairies never fades, and the idea that they lurk nearby, waiting to be found, is still exciting to children. And Unzner's (Princess Me) use of photographs (some of which feature fairy-seeking kids) as backdrops for her delicate fairies drives that notion home. Her creations are more cute than beautiful—they have button noses and frizzy hair, and appear fairly rambunctious, even as they evade the children looking for them. Debut author Paquette combines guidebook narrative (“We can see where they live if we know how to look for them”) with warmer passages that include readers in the search (“Did you feel that tingle? I think something magical is about to happen”). Text and art work in tandem to create gentle suspense—scenes, such as one in which fairies retrieve a lost slipper just behind the retreating shoes of the searching children, will prompt giggles, and the promise of a fairy encounter is sweetly fulfilled at the end. Though Unzner's sketchy hand-drawn fairies ultimately feel superimposed on, rather than part of, the photographic landscapes, readers should still be enticed by the idea of magic infusing the natural world. Ages 4–8. (Apr.)

This fresh, funny launch of the 43 Old Cemetery Road series introduces an eccentric cast with pun-tastic names. I.B. Grumply, a cranky children's book author with writer's block, rents a dilapidated Victorian mansion (from realtor Anita Sale) in the town of Ghastly in hopes of writing an addition to his Ghost Tamers series (publisher: Paige Turner). He discovers that the owners have left their son Seymour behind while—in one of several ironic twists—they tour Europe debunking the existence of ghosts. Seymour does indeed “see more” than others: he has befriended Olive C. Spence, a feisty ghost who has vowed to haunt the house until she accomplishes what she couldn't in life—publish a book. As in the “Regarding the...” series, written by these sibling collaborators, the story unfolds through characters' correspondence (“The man is impossible! I should've dropped THREE chandeliers on his head,” Olive writes Seymour about Grumply) as well as other documents, including illustrated pages from the local tabloid. Despite a slightly sappy denouement, the story is light enough for more tentative readers, with many humorous details to reward those who look closer. Ages 8–12. (Apr.)

This fast-paced U.S. debut for British author Cheshire launches the Saxby Smart, Private Detective series starring a chipper crackerjack sleuth. The protagonist immediately pulls readers into the action, as Saxby explains, “Unlike some detectives, I don't have a sidekick, so that part I'm leaving up to you—pay attention, I'll ask questions.” He involves readers each step of the way, asking about their deductive progress (“Have you figured it out?”), before disclosing his own hunches and findings. Of the three mysteries presented in this volume, the first—involving the connection between a Japanese samurai mask and the bad luck plaguing a friend's father—is the most creatively convoluted. Saxby's resourceful tactics and comedic overstatements will keep kids entertained; his classmates (who play key supporting roles), excerpts from Saxby's notebook and Alley's (Paddington and the Christmas Surprise) cheery b&w line art further enliven these mysteries. Ages 8–12. (Apr.)

Using spare free verse, first-time novelist Burg (Pirate Pickle and the White Balloon) beautifully evokes the emotions of a Vietnamese adoptee as he struggles to come to terms with his past. Although he loves his American parents and new little brother, Matt misses the family he left behind two years ago, in 1975, when he was airlifted out of Vietnam. He feels guilty for leaving behind his toddler brother, who was mutilated by a bomb, and yearns for his birth mother, who pushed him “through screaming madness/ and choking dust” into the arms of soldiers. (“My parents say they love me./ He says/ I'll always be his MVP./ She says./ I'm safe, I'm home./ But what about my mother in Vietnam?”) Matt's baseball coach and Vietnam vet piano teacher help ease his pain, but it is the patience and unconditional love of his new parents, gently emerging throughout the story, that proves the strongest healing force. The war-torn Vietnamese village that appears in Matt's recurring nightmares sharply contrasts with the haven he has in America. Burg presents lasting images of both. Ages 11–up. (Apr.)

The tougher side of catching a boyfriend is depicted with humor and understanding in this first novel. Sharp-witted, accident-prone Jory Michaels knows she is klutzy, but she is more apt to blame her “Super Schnozz” than her clumsiness for her nonexistent love life. The summer after her junior year in high school, she hopes to decrease her “99.9 percent” chance of “dying a virgin” by saving up for a nose job and winning the heart of cute classmate Tyler. Nothing goes as planned, and the results are simultaneously painful and hilarious. Salter captures the awkwardness of adolescence while driving home a message about self-acceptance. Jory's all-too-perfect athlete brother and image-conscious mother act as effective foils to the heroine, while her friends Megan and Hannah are reminders that no one is perfect. If Jory's missteps and disasters become a little redundant, her responses to misfortune remain fresh. Ages 12–up. (Apr.)

Fourteen-year-old Hector has no shortage of problems: “My mum was a hippie, my dad was nowhere, my school was a dung heap; I was bullied by Neanderthals and ignored by the girls, and my friends were the Wretched of the Earth.” But when he learns he has a brain tumor—a vocal one, no less, that waxes philosophical and occasionally assumes control of Hector's movements—he may have hit rock bottom. Except that “Jack Tumor” helps Hector “snog” the hottest chick around, humiliate the school bullies and transform his normally spaced-out mom into something resembling normal. Though the story can ramble painfully, McGowan injects plenty of humor, phallic references and British slang into this edgy coming-of-age tale. His story is geared toward male teens who will get the many sexual innuendos, though when he's not lusting after girls, Hector's musings seem pretty mature for his age. As Hector grapples with love, friendship and death, a broad range of readers should find the trip worth it. Ages 12–up. (Apr.)

From lighthearted board books to more serious poetry, these selections explore the most important of all relationships.

The 10-year-old author of How to Talk to Girls and, most recently, How to Talk to Moms, now offers insight on fathers. Chapters include “The Two Sides of Dad” (a good side and a bad side—“It totally depends on his mood and your attitude”); “What Dads Like” (“honest, helpful, good kids”); and “The Power of the Father” (“If you are playing chess, Dad won't go easy on you”). While the dad characteristics aren't universal, with Acedera's understated line art and an attractive design, this is a tailor-made gift. All ages. (May)

A curly-haired toddler—passable as either a boy or girl—celebrates “mommy” and “mama,” and the activities and tender moments they share. During a playground trip, “Mommy and I go round and round,” on a playground wheel that resembles a giant birthday cake; on the opposite page, “Mama and I slide to the ground.” The bright colors (a green claw-foot tub has froglike feet) and pleasing verse offer a simple lesson about love that same-sex parents should embrace. Newman (Heather Has Two Mommies) and Thompson's (Molly and Her Dad) Daddy, Papa, and Me is also available. Ages 1–3. (May)

In this lullabyesque tale from the team behind I Love You Because You're You, a kangaroo mother comforts her daughter throughout all her new experiences, such as going to school and running in a race. McPhail's illustrations—the two kangaroos splashing in the rain, the little kangaroo learning how to share a red ball with friends—are just as soothing as Baker's text (“Mama's right here/ And I always will be”). The sweet affection shared between mama and child is sure to make it a favorite. Ages 2–5. (Apr.)

Animal mommies affirm their affection in cheerful, warm illustrations reminiscent of early animation. A polar bear mommy keeps her baby “feeling snug” under a night sky with pastel stars; a duck mother keeps track of her six yellow ducklings (“Mommy listens, Mommy hears”); and a blue whale mommy “chases off” her baby's fears (a toylike submarine). Finally, a mommy elephant “shares her love” with her baby, their trunks entwined, as two red hearts float overhead. The basic text is low-key, but the artwork is endearing. Ages 3–5. (Apr.)

Each page of this gentle book features a different child and father spending time together throughout the seasons: “When it's only my dad and me... we rake the leaves high.” Panels fold out twice to reveal more activities (like jumping in said leaves). Throughout, readers learn other words for “dad”: “When it's only my aba and me... we take morning hikes” (a note reads, “Aba means 'dad' in Hebrew”). The multicultural component should broaden the book's appeal. My Mom and Me is also available. Ages 4–6. (Apr.)

Smith's (Keeping the Night Watch) deeply personal collection of poems, accompanied by free-form collages, forms a distinct narrative arc, with early poems striking an easy tone. “I know Batman has/ a really cool car./ And Spider-Man can swing on a web/ like Tarzan./ But I have a better superhero than that,” says the girl, wrapped in her mother's lavender shawl. But after the mother's death, the poems draw on complex emotions (“I WANT my mother,/ so I took a picture of her/ and slapped the word 'WANTED,'/ in big block letters across it”) and memories that lead, eventually, to rejuvenation. Ages 8–13. (Apr.)

The latest in Scholastic's growing retro-themed series, this quaint book provides step-by-step instructions for a variety of me-and-my-dad activities, from “Make an Artificial Eye” (with a cardboard tube) and “Hold a Garage Sale” to “Create Your Own Solar System” (a hanging mobile), among others. Good-natured kids who have enjoyed the previous books in the series as well as the bar-setting Dangerous Book for Boys (and who are still game for hanging out with dad) should be entertained. Also available: Things to Do with Mom. Ages 8–up. (Apr.)

Two spirited middle-grade heroines return in a pair of sequels.

In the second installment of a planned trilogy, McGhee again focuses in on the everyday life of the upstanding title character from Julia Gillian (and the Art of Knowing), as she seeks to add to her list of accomplishments. Fifth grade is proving to be harder than Julia Gillian anticipated—there is a strict new lunchroom monitor, her best friend is becoming more independent and Julia Gillian can't master the trumpet. Though she wants to solve her own problems, Julia Gillian ends up lying to cover up for her inabilities, which makes matters worse (“That was the problem with being a liar and a hider. Once you started, you just had to keep going”). While the day-to-day narration can be repetitive and the resolution comes a bit quickly and conveniently—Julia Gillian comes clean, learns to play the trumpet and realizes the lunch monitor is not as bad as he seemed—her inner conflicts and fears remain highly relatable. Generously spaced text and frequent, creative use of Kozjan's loose art, which exudes personality, should appeal to new and reluctant readers alike. Ages 9–12. (Apr.)

Tarshis proves she “gets” adolescent female friendships (not to mention seventh grade) in this funny and empathetic follow-up to Emma-Jean Lazarus Fell Out of a Tree. For the first time, the intensely analytical Emma-Jean has friends among her peers (as she refers to them) and, like them, she is preoccupied with the girl-invite Spring Fling. Emma-Jean considers asking basketball star Will, though they have little in common—he's been kind to her and causes a “fluttering of her heart.” But she ends up sorting out the dance-related woes of fragile Colleen (whose point of view is explored in certain chapters). Fans of the first book will be pleased that the deadpan narration (“as a single cell can reveal the DNA code of an entire organism, the look in Kaitlin's eyes told Emma-Jean everything she needed to know”) and Emma-Jean's observations are as amusing as ever. (“Adolescent males engage in conspicuous displays to attract the attention of females,” is her explanation of cafeteria boisterousness.) Her blossoming appreciation for emotions that logic can't explain, sympathetic supporting characters and an uplifting finale will warm hearts. Ages 10–14. (May)