Children's Book Reviews: Week of 6/15/2009

As infectious as a baby's first smile, this celebratory book will enchant any family with a newborn to love. While ostensibly exploring a baby's anatomy, Adler's sunny poem and Nakata's ebullient watercolors demonstrate not only a baby's exploratory joy but also the palpable delight a baby brings to a family. The satisfyingly predictable pattern of verse lends itself to interactive hugs and tickles. A closeup illustration of the roly-poly baby (“Baby's got eyes,/ bright little eyes”) is followed by a page divided into four illustrations (“Round as pies eyes./ Just the right size eyes./ Like an owl—wise eyes./ Peeka-peeka-boo”). The question “Who loves baby's eyes?” (later asked about nose, ears, tummy, etc.) is answered at the turn of the page (“Me, I do.”) as Nakata shows the baby interacting with different family members. A final verse and spread featuring the whole clan—parents, grandparents, brother and even the dog—provides an adulatory conclusion. Although the book is recommended for those under age two, it is especially suitable as a new-baby present for any member of a warmhearted family. Up to age 2. (June)

Piggybacking this story-in-verse onto “Old McDonald” works surprisingly well in this children's book debut for Tobin and Coverly. “Sue MacDonald had a book./ A E I O U/ The words made sense last time she looked./ A E I O U.” The ponytailed schoolgirl spends the book chasing down the mischievous vowels that have escaped from her book, rendering it unreadable (the gesture toward educational content ends here—the rest is all hijinks). Cartoonist Coverly draws the vowels with Krazy Kat noses, googly eyes and miniature hands and feet. Ink and watercolor spreads alternate with vignettes, and the pace never flags. Sue's dramatic captures give her temporary superhero status: she swings through the trees, hitches a ride in a balloon and tracks through the sewer. As she pursues each vowel, Tobin adeptly highlights the letter in question in the accompanying text (as Sue rescues the “I” from an encounter with thugs in a skyscraper: “Scary climb/ nick of time,/ saved him from a life of crime”). The cartoony illustrations and smart verse make for an engaging read-aloud—or sing-along. Ages 4–7. (July)

Despite the axiom about elephants never forgetting, Monty is a young elephant who needs some help when it comes toremembering things. When Monty finds a blue bucket, he misidentifies it as a forget-me-not (his mother had told him that the flowers help elephants “remember to stay with the herd”) and finds himself separated from his fellow pachyderms. Carrying the bucket—a gift for his mother—with his trunk, Monty encounters members of several other species, who warn him that he won't fare well if he's alone when the rain arrives, prompting him to try to remember where he belongs. Monty's expected reunion has a child-pleasing twist: when the rain begins, he takes shelter beneath “trees” that are actually his mother's sturdy legs. Though they often border on cutesy, Broad's mixed-media illustrations do include some playful images—flamingos hold striped parasols, cartoonlike insects cavort throughout and Monty's mother wears the bucket (“It's the prettiest forget-me-not I've ever seen”) on her head as the herd munches on flowers that have bloomed in the rain. An amiable if not especially memorable story. Ages 4–7. (June)

Swimming champ Phelps provides a playful account of what his preparation for the Beijing Olympics entailed. The text jumps from one analogy to the next, beginning with the six years he trained: “That's a kindergartener's whole life! That's the same as 42 dog years!” Some comparisons wow more than others, as when Phelps equates the 12,480 miles he swam while training to swimming the full length of the Great Wall of China three times (“Perfect! Now do it two more times,” says his coach in the accompanying illustration, which shows the Great Wall as a pool that zigzags across mountains into the distance). Humorous but less compelling spreads demonstrate the time he spent napping during these training years. Many of the comparisons are downright silly, including the one that inspires the book's title, in which Phelps tallies the number of dinosaurs he could hypothetically leg-press in a single workout (nine tons worth). Debut illustrator Jenkins's digital cartoons comically mine this and other quirky references, depicting Phelps as a cheerful, larger-than-life caricature. Sports fans with a love of statistics should be both amused and impressed. Ages 4–8. (June)

The unlikely hero—a sharp, wooden stick—of Lechner's (Sticky Burr) fable about expressing oneself has an extraordinary mind (a watercolor spot shows a thought balloon above the stick that reads “a2+b2=c2”). Because he can't speak, though, he can't share his knowledge and feelings. “When he came across a frog writing a poem, he wanted to share a simile about the sun being like a dragon. But he could not.” Then the stick realizes that his sharp end leaves a line in the sand. He can draw, and, for the first time, the world recognizes his existence: “As he scribbled, the plants and animals gathered around and watched in rapt attention.” The stick's sand drawing is a tapestry of fantasy elements: a castle, a dragon, woodland creatures on sailing ships. When the rain soon washes it away, “the stick didn't care.... He knew at last he had found his voice.” It's a triumphant moment. Our best gifts, Lechner seems to say, may not lie where we expect, but it is only in their pursuit that we find ourselves. Ages 5–8. (July)

Cassidy Li is going to be Star of the Week in her kindergarten class, and that means she gets to bring a snack (the titular brownies) and chronicle her life story on a poster. But as she reviews snapshots depicting favorite activities, pets, friends and family, she also realizes that, as a baby adopted in China, “something is missing. I don't have any photos of my birthparents.” Her solution: adding a hand-drawn portrait of them to the photographic collage. Debuting author Friedman, who is also the wife of Roth (The American Story) and the parent of a Chinese daughter, doesn't try to smooth over the bittersweet elements of Cassidy Li's story, although she often veers into giving her heroine the voice and viewpoint of an empathic adult rather than that of a six-year-old (“Dad says our family loves my birthparents very much even though we'll never know them”). Roth's affectionate domestic vignettes bolster the story's authenticity considerably, and his vivid portrayal of the confident, thoughtful Cassidy Li speaks volumes about the unconditional love in her life. Ages 5–9. (June)

This lively collaboration by the creators of Make Your Mark, Franklin Roosevelt highlights a unique historical episode, following a 19th-century giraffe, a gift from the viceroy of Egypt to Charles X, as she journeys from Africa to France. Fanciful flourishes fill Spencer's watercolor, gouache and ink art: after being captured in the wild, Zarafa perches on a camel as it carries her to a Sudanese village; she patiently tolerates costumed monkeys climbing on her neck while sailing down the Nile to Alexandria; and she pops her head through a freshly cut hole in the deck of the ship that brings her across the Mediterranean to France. There, over time, the affable animal finishes the trip on foot, accompanied by a pair of handlers, Hassan and Atir (as well as scientist Geoffrey Saint-Hillaire), cheered by admiring crowds along the way (“Hundreds—no, thousands—of visitors came to see Zarafa in the King's Garden.... Zarafa had been more that a gift to the king. She had also been a gift to the people of France”). St. George's breezy, conversational text (“Was she worn out? Not Zarafa!”) moves this voyage along briskly. Ages 6–8. (June)

This ambitious early chapter book might alternately be titled Be Careful What You Wish For. Third-grader Max has a lot on his plate since his parents have divorced and he moves to a new apartment with his mom and sister. Bullies rattle him at his new school, and occasional calls from his overbearing dad do little to reassure him. But Max has the perfect refuge: his elaborate imagination, where he spends “Adventure Time” with his trusty dreamed-up dog, King, and where he discovers a store that grants wishes (“Here by himself on his bed.... he could create whole worlds. He could go anywhere and do anything”). Things go awry when Max wishes for a “real, live dog,” which shakes things up for Max's family in unexpected ways. The pacing stumbles a bit as Tolan (Surviving the Applewhites) plays out scenarios that emphasize the important role of a rich imaginary life, and the wishing device doesn't feel especially fresh. But Max is a complex yet relatable character, and Bates's gray-scale pencil-and-gouache artwork conveys plenty of emotion. Ages 7–10. (June)

National Book Award–winner Whelan (Homeless Bird) sets this straightforward and thoughtful story at an asylum for the mentally ill in 1900. Narrator Verna and her younger sister, Carlie, move to a house on the hospital grounds with their psychiatrist father and dour busybody Aunt Maude (the girls' mother died of typhoid). Verna immediately feels a kindred spirit with Eleanor, the cheerful asylum patient who begins working as a maid for the family. Jealous of the girls' affection for Eleanor, Maude grows increasingly vindictive, until Papa is forced to send her packing. Fearing the appearance of impropriety, given that he and Eleanor (of whom he's clearly grown fond) are both single, Verna's father dismisses her, which sends the young woman spiraling into depression. Though overwrought imagery (“Eleanor was always on my mind, a singing bird hidden high in a treetop”) occasionally bogs down the narrative and an abrupt, inconclusive ending will leave some readers feeling cheated, Whelan adds authentic period flavor and crafts affecting moments—some in the asylum's locked garden—between the sisters and the recovering Eleanor. Ages 8–12. (June)

Newbery Medalist Naylor's (Shiloh) reflective, resonant novel shapes credible portraits of two Kentucky girls participating in a seventh-grade exchange program. Since her parents' house is too cramped, outspoken Ivy June lives nearby with her bighearted grandparents in aremote mountain hollow, with no indoor bathroom or phone. More reserved Catherine attends private school in Lexington, where she shares a rambling home with her family. In thoughtful, articulate journal entries interspersed with third-person chapters, the girls, who spend two weeks together with each family, share their initial expectations and subsequent impressions (“if Mammaw ever saw the stuff they put on our plates, she'd give it to a dog,” Ivy June writes about the cafeteria food). The bond between the girls strengthens when they simultaneously experience traumatic events (Ivy June's coal miner grandfather becomes trapped underground; Catherine's mother undergoes emergency heart surgery). Leaving the hollow, Catherine responds to a comment that she'll have a lot to tell when she arrives home: “To tell it's one thing.... To be here—that's something else.” Naylor's deft storytelling effortlessly transports readers to her Kentucky settings—and into two unexpectedly similar lives. Ages 9–12. (June)

In screenwriter Taylor's entertaining, if ephemeral, debut novel and B-movie takeoff, 14-year-old Toby Magill gets a summer job at the new Killer Pizza franchise in town (specialties include the “Fangtastic Hawaiian” and “Vampire Stakes”), where he hopes to hone his own cooking skills to fulfill his dream of becoming a famous chef. After a few enjoyable weeks, he and his fellow employees, the intelligent Annabel and the gruff Strobe, learn that Killer Pizza is a front for a secret organization that hunts monsters. The teens soon embark on a training course to become Monster Combat Officers, learning the ways of the strange creatures known as guttatas that are terrorizing their small town. Taylor keeps the action coming at a brisk pace, though there's never a real sense of true danger—even the teens mutated by the guttatas in the opening scenes are rescued. Older readers might question some plot holes (not to mention the idea of recruiting young kids to fight monsters), but most will find the book a fun diversion. Ages 10–14. (June)

Ford's dark and stellar debut, which nicely updates many classic mystery tropes, tells the story of high school valedictorian Christopher Newell, who takes a summer job at the hospital morgue before heading to college. Naturally, he stumbles across something he shouldn't—$15,000 in cash and a dead body that the medical examiner has ruled a suicide, even though the body had been shot five times in the torso. Certain that the medical examiner and the sheriff are connected, Christopher starts to investigate alongside Tina, a sexy young reporter for the local paper. The plot covers a wide range of characters, including Christopher's ex-neighbor (and crush), Julia; her police officer older brother, Tim; the town's mayor and his daughter; and Christopher's best friend, Mike, an amateur bookie. Christopher and Tina uncover interlocking mysteries involving blackmail, corruption and murder, which span years of the town's history. Ford spins a tale that's complex but not confusing, never whitewashing some of the harsher crimes people commit. The result is a story that holds its own as a mainstream mystery as well as a teen novel. Ages 12–up. (June)

Whitbread winner Gavin (Coram Boy) holds nothing back when plotting her layered novel about human trafficking, and the end result is shocking, though the story is occasionally confusing to wade through. The book follows Nettie, a spoiled 12-year-old, as she adapts to a gargantuan new home in present-day London and, later, to a prestigious school after years of homeschooling. Nettie's privileged setup takes a dark turn when her beloved live-in tutor, Miss Kovachev, disappears, leaving behind a mysterious journal. With the help of the doorman's son, Nettie attempts to find her and uncovers some sinister family secrets. Nettie's discoveries are sandwiched between excerpts from Miss Kovachev's diary: her leaving Bulgaria in shame; her arduous journey to London while pregnant; and her involvement in an undercover investigation attempting to link Nettie's father to an international trafficking ring. While Nettie is infuriatingly naïve as a heroine, she feels realistic, given her sheltered upbringing. Though it can feel like Gavin is trying to cover too much ground at once, a slow stream of revelations and the book's rich sense of setting give it the air of a modern gothic mystery. Ages 12–up. (June)

More trials are in store for the Ohio teens featured in Battle of Jericho and November Blues in this final book in Draper's trilogy. This time the focus is on Arielle—whose mother has recently married a wealthy, controlling man who treats his stepdaughter and wife more like property than family—and Kofi, a promising student whose chance for success is threatened by his prescription drug addiction. While fighting deeply personal battles during their senior year, Arielle and Kofi are drawn into school dramas concerning the inexplicable disappearance of student property as well as recurring fire drills, a prank that eventually leads to a deadly situation. As in her previous novels, Draper shows mastery in building suspense and articulating adolescent emotions and reactions (“Kofi could feel Dana tense up, in the same way some people reacted to a snake—with great fear and the need to put distance between themselves and the reptile”). If the shocking climax, which culminates with a school shooting, appears a little contrived, powerful final events will leave readers pondering the definition of heroism. Ages 12–up. (June)

In the sequel to 2008's Gone, things have only gotten worse for the kids trapped in the small area around Perdido Beach, Calif. After three months, they still have no contact with the outside world, more dangerous mutant animals are cropping up and food supplies are becoming perilously scarce. Even as Caine starts to recover from the confrontation with the town leader (and half-brother) Sam, the evil gaiaphage exerts its influence, manipulating Caine and others in a plan to gain more power. The ongoing divide between kids who have developed powers and ones who haven't also threatens to lead to violence. Grant throws everything at the children, from gory deaths every bit as nasty as in mainstream horror to sexual tension, eating disorders and drug use. The large cast of characters—from a variety of racial and sexual backgrounds—might be hard for some to keep track of, but readers looking for intense, nearly nonstop action and emotional drama will find lots to enjoy, even as the climactic ending sets up another sequel. Ages 12–up. (June)

For amateur scientists, here are some enticing picks.

With gentle interactive elements and rhymed verse, this picture book strikes a reflective tone while providing an effective lesson on the moon and its phases. A boy, a girl and a dog gaze up at the moon and wonder “just why her face is curved, or round,/ or why she sometimes can't be found?” During each of the moon's phases, the children are pictured engaging in various activities while the moon shines above them, peeking through die-cut pages: “Now WAXING GIBBOUS, fat with light,/ she's nearly round—up late at night.” The pages also have side tabs that show the moon in its corresponding phases. Evans's bright, chunky linoleum block print and watercolor illustrations present the moon as a constant presence in the children's lives, sometimes as a pale backdrop for everyday events, at other times a source of wonderment. Ages 6–9. (July)

With more than 30 scientific experiments, ranging from more traditional science-fair projects—like making a rocket out of a sports drink bottle—to a recipe for an apple pie sans apples (sugar reacts with cream of tartar to produce a chemical that tastes like apples), this fun book has plenty of ideas to sample. Also offered are magnified images, including a sticky note (blown up, it looks like an “alien landscape”) and a silk worm that resembles a (scary) Jim Henson creation. In between experiments, Hammond explores the science behind the subjects: a section about sound emphasizes that “sound is a form of ENERGY... it travels in waves.” The active approach to science and scrapbook-style design, with plenty of photos, notes and asides, should win over curious kids. Ages 7–10. (July)

This witty and informative book uses the “Big Thing, Little Thing” rule (which explains how the length, surface area and cross section of an object or creature are relative to its volume and weight—thus, there are no “car-sized spiders”) to explore how size affects living things. Davies's often humorous text and Layton's energetic illustrations demonstrate why humans don't have superpowers (“we'd need toes tens of thousands of times bigger than a gecko's to hold us on the ceiling”), and later spreads discuss the advantages and limitations of being very small or very big (“Small animals have a bigger outer surface area for their volume than big animals, so they have trouble keeping warm”). The spot-on comic delivery and readily comprehensible explanations make this a prime pick for readers curious about physical science in the natural world. Ages 8–up. (July)

This expansive photographic reference book is divided into broad sections, like “Space” and “Society and Culture,” with each subsection posing a specific question. “How many trees make a forest?” introduces a section on rainforests, followed by photographs, maps and facts about rainforest ecosystems. In a spread about bacteria, a checklist gives “Reasons to like bacteria” next to a wedge of blue cheese (also pictured is an unsightly reproduction of an erupting pimple). A few questions feel contrived—“What's the connection between a slug and an octopus?”—but those growing up in the age of Google will appreciate the information explosion. Ages 10–up. (July)