Children's Book Reviews: 6/29/2009

Steggall's (The Life of a Car) virtuoso torn-paper collages follow a boy and his family on a train trip through the British countryside to the coast, where an unnamed (but grandmotherly) relative greets them with open arms. As the title hints, the economical text is strictly impressionistic: “Whoooooosh! Whoooooosh!... rocking and rolling and rushing and racing, skimming the sky, skimming the sky.” The detail-rich, full-spread pictures, however, are stunning in their evocation of the real world. Sleekly handsome, the long red, black and white–striped train cuts quite a figure, its boldly graphic exterior and zigzag shape playing counterpoint to lush hills, rippling waters and workaday towns. Steggall's tour de force appears near the end, when the train crosses a classic masonry arch bridge spanning an estuary. It's an image that's both postcard-perfect and triumphantly dynamic—a tribute to both the joys of trainspotting and the ingenuity of the human race. Ages 2–5. (July)

Debut author Braeuner is doubly fortunate: she won the Cheerios New Author Contest and got Neubecker (I Got Two Dogs) as her first collaborator. The end result, however, is mixed. Readers will appreciate how their fictional peers run the dog-washing enterprise with no help from grownups—although there are comic mishaps, these kids clearly have their act together. But Braeuner's predictable wordplay and rhymes don't do much to convey the giddy fun of an enterprise that involves hoses, soap and shaggy, rambunctious pets: “Slippery, slobbery,/ do a good jobbery./ Wash all that dog smell away.” Neubecker tackles the material with the confidence of a pro. While he's always been good at conveying the bustle and telling details of a crowd, he's even better here when he fills a spread with a limited number of large-scale figures engaged in a focused action: two kids and four sundry dogs in full gallop, a trio of kids hosing down a towering but eager pooch. Ages 2–6. (July)

Another Emberley gets into the book-creating act with this takeoff on the cumulative song, “There Was an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly,” which features jaunty rhymes yet an intermittently bumpy rhythm. Songwriter Adrian, Rebecca's daughter and Ed's granddaughter, collaborated on the music (the song will be available for download from Scholastic's Web site). The splotchy purple monster's initial snack—a tick—doesn't agree with him (“I don't know why/ he swallowed the tick/ 'cause it made him feel sick”), and the ants he ingests to catch the tick “had him dancing in his pants.” After downing a lizard, bat, jackal and bear, the monster feels “like he was dyin',” so he tries to swallow a lion—an attempt that doesn't end well. Stylized computer-scanned collage art amplifies the narrative's inanity, portraying the monster (and the accumulating contents of his belly) with electric hues against a black background. Timid readers may find the wild-eyed monster and sharp-toothed lion scary, but most will hone their sense of schadenfreude on the creature's exaggerated discomfort and find this creepy, crawly fun. Ages 3–5. (July)

Color and sound propel Rockwell's story of a train-crazy cat. Allan loves everything about trains—especially the noises they make—and he even lines up his cereal to resemble railroad cars: “He'd go 'Whooooo-whooo!' so that he sounded just like a train—sometimes with his mouth full.” Allan is ecstatic when his parents surprise him with his first-ever train ride. Rockwell (Big George) credibly conveys the young cat's enthusiasm (“Walking between the cars was noisy and shaky and exciting”), and readers will similarly sense Allan's letdown as the train slows to a stop, though the cat's disappointment is short-lived. They have arrived in “Trainland,” and “everywhere he looked Allan saw trains going this way and that.” Animation artist van der Baan's coloring imbues Rockwell's art with a dazzling palette and almost painterly textures (in one scene, the gleaming train rides over a stone and metal bridge, with boaters and fishermen in the creamy purple water below). Though the plot is thin, younger train enthusiasts should appreciate and enjoy the journey. Ages 3–7. (July)

A pampered poodle runs away from her high society owner and meets up with a scrappy stray mutt who knows the city like the back of his paw and becomes the love of her life. While Disney doesn't have a lock on that idea, Shields and Harbour, who previously collaborated on The Starlight Baby, must have known Lady and the Tramp would serve as a benchmark—and sadly, this book doesn't offer much competition. The story is long on biography and romance and short on adventure—as Shields puts it during Esme and Sam's moonlit stroll through the park, “They walked and they talked, and a sweet night bird sang./ They talked and they walked, as the old church bell rang.” While Harbour's visual refinement and vintage sensibility fits the world of penthouse poodle Esme, she seems at a loss for conveying the streetwise brio and outsider existence of Sam. The Manhattan scenery provides ample inspiration for Harbour's skills and versatility as a colorist, but the renderings have a generic feel and do little to convey a night of life-changing adventure. Ages 4–8. (July)

In this uplifting story from the authors of Four Feet, Two Sandals, a boy moves from a Sudanese refugee camp to the U.S. with his mother and sister. “You will be Sangoel. Even in America,” an elder tells him. Yet everyone at his new school mispronounces his name. “In America I have lost my name,” he says sadly, and when Mama suggests adopting an American name, the elder's words “sang in his memory.” Inspired by his soccer team T-shirt (on which a ball replaces the letter “o”) the resourceful child draws a sun and a soccer goal on a shirt beneath the words, “My name is” to help his friends learn how to say his name correctly. Stock's (the Gus and Grandpa series) loose watercolors convey Sangoel's deep-felt emotions, though occasional collaged elements present some jarring juxtapositions (in the scene in which Sangoel and his family leave the camp, a few of the refugees bidding them farewell have photographic heads stuck on their painted bodies, while the others are entirely painted). A concluding note succinctly explains the plight of today's refugees. Ages 6–10. (July)

In this debut for both collaborators, Barton takes on the dual persona of popular historian and cool science teacher as he chronicles the Switzer brothers' invention of the first fluorescent paint visible in daylight. The aptly named Day-Glo, he explains, started out as a technological novelty act (Joe, an amateur magician, was looking for ways to make his illusions more exciting), but soon became much more: during WWII, one of its many uses was guiding Allied planes to safe landings on aircraft carriers. The story is one of quintessentially American ingenuity, with its beguiling combination of imaginative heroes (“Bob focused on specific goals, while Joe let his freewheeling mind roam every which way when he tried to solve a problem”), formidable obstacles (including, in Bob's case, a traumatic accident), a dash of serendipity and entrepreneurial zeal. Persiani's exuberantly retro 1960s drawings—splashed with Day-Glo, of course—bring to mind the goofy enthusiasm of vintage educational animation and should have readers eagerly following along as the Switzers turn fluorescence into fame and fortune. Ages 7–10. (July)

Upon encountering sixth-grader Svetlana Grimm, it's easy to think of her as slightly delusional. She sleeps under her bed, eats only red foods, has a heightened sense of smell and believes she has psychic abilities. Naturally, she thinks she's a vampire, if not a predatory one (she prefers strawberries and red velvet cake). But Harris makes it clear that Svetlana, whose given name is Stephanie (“How could my parents have been so cruel?” she moans) isn't just a supernatural wannabe—she discovers she can communicate telepathically with her vampirish (perhaps literally) science teacher, Ms. Larch. Harris sets up deliciously sinister scenes between Svetlana and her teacher, whom Svetlana suspects is involved in the disappearance of three classmates. Reluctant heroine Svetlana has plenty of personality and wit (“I could handle a little ESP and a steady diet of watermelon, but I wasn't going to get into any kind of life and death struggle”), and although Harris leaves the door open for sequels, his fast-paced debut stands on its own. Ages 8–12. (June)

LaFleur's moving debut offers a convincing first-person narration of a girl coping in the wake of tragedy. When 11-year-old Aubrey's mother drives away one morning, leaving her alone in their house, Aubrey resolutely takes care of herself for a week, buying canned food (and a pet fish) with birthday money and watching TV. After Aubrey's concerned grandmother arrives (Aubrey hasn't been answering the phone) and takes her home with her to Vermont, the devastating circumstances behind her mother's departure become clear: Aubrey's family has recently been in a car accident, in which both her father and little sister were killed. Aubrey grapples with her abandonment by displaying psychosomatic symptoms—she gets frequent bouts of nausea—and through symbolic gestures (she periodically composes letters to her sister's imaginary friend, which are interspersed throughout). With the support of a neighbor her age, her grandmother and a school counselor who encourages her to write letters to her family, Aubrey begins to accept her loss and to understand her mother's complex motivations for leaving. The relationships at the center of Aubrey's struggle—with her mother, grandmother and with herself—are fleshed out with honesty and sensitivity. Ages 9–14. (June)

After the town is abandoned, the sole residents of downtrodden Paisley, Kans., are precocious 13-year-old Spencer Honesty and his mother, who is still a paid employee of Paisley's post office. Spencer spends his time talking to his make-believe, poetry-writing Indian friend, Chief Leopard Frog, and taking photographs of the empty town. But when ghostly ex-residents appear in his photographs, Spencer begins to see artistic potential in his isolation. Paisley, with its numerous spiders, reptiles and vacated buildings, emerges as just as vivid a character as Spencer; others, including Spencer's departed crush, Maureen, and the wheeling-and-dealing owner of an oddities catalogue who takes an interest in Chief Leopard Frog's carved talismans are more peripheral, developing through letters they exchange with Spencer. Spencer's frequent musings on solitude, art and life are thought provoking and often funny (artists who got famous by painting objects like chairs were simply “stuck in their rooms,” he reasons. “What else was there to look at?”). Despite the need for suspension of disbelief throughout, the highly fortuitous outcome comes across as a stretch—but it's a fun ride getting there. Ages 12–up. (June)

Readers don't need to be Jane Austen fans to appreciate Hubbard's debut, a time-bending tale with some Pride and Prejudice elements. Awkward, plain-Jane teenager Callie is on a school trip abroad when she spies a pair of “totally classic” Prada shoes in a shop window and buys them on impulse, hoping to impress more popular girls on the trip. Unfortunately, moments after trying the shoes on, she trips, falls and blacks out. The next thing Callie knows, she is in 19th-century England, where she is mistaken for a duke's childhood friend arriving for an extended visit. With nowhere else to go, Callie stays at the duke's castle, and during the next four weeks, she becomes good friends with the duke's cousin, develops a love/hate relationship with the duke and shocks nearly everyone in the castle with her feminist ideology and numerous faux pas (“You could have heard a pin drop when I asked if they had ketchup,” she says). Part comedy of manners, part romantic fantasy, this fast-reading, playful novel takes the idea of feeling out of place to a hilarious extreme. Ages 12–up. (June)

Amy used to sleep around, party hard and have a wild time with her best friend Julia—until Julia dies in a car accident. Readers meet 16-year-old Amy fresh out of rehab—a recovering alcoholic who is also trying to recover her will to live. Amy feels lost without Julia: she has no real friends and believes her parents not only don't know her but don't want to. The events leading up to Julia's death—which give Amy the impression that she killed her—unfold during Amy's post-rehab sessions with her therapist and her parents. Amy's letters to Julia sit between straight narrative chapters, and throughout Amy marks time by counting the days since Julia's death. The teenager's initial, severe alienation may account for the flat affect in the first half of the story, though as Amy reawakens to the possibility of moving on and life becoming meaningful again, Scott's (Living Dead Girl) prose becomes layered with emotion, some of it achingly sad. Amy's story stays mainly in guilt, despair and anger throughout, but shifts slightly toward hope as Amy moves through her grief. Ages 12–up. (June)

Fifteen-year-old Tory Tyson knows that finishing high school isn't going to help him launch his hip-hop career as “Terror Tory” or vault him into fame and fortune. He doesn't understand why his mom is pushing him to finish school and to get him to understand the Christian faith she discovered five years ago. All he wants is to get a record deal as a rap music producer—so he pins his hopes on the “Unsigned Hype” demo contest at a local radio station. What he hasn't bargained for is all the attention he starts receiving after his beats are played, when only his family continues treating him the same, and that the one girl he truly wants isn't impressed by his newfound celebrity. This debut novel has an authentic voice, taking readers into the world of New York City hip-hop through the wide eyes of a kid who's still refreshingly innocent. Tory's Christian conversion is telegraphed from the very beginning, but readers will come to love the characters who mentor him along the way, despite the novel's didactic moments. Mattison's is a fresh voice in Christian YA fiction. Ages 12–up. (June)

Morgan and her football star boyfriend Cam have been “attached at the hip since kindergarten,” but now their love is threatened by the Otherworld—a land of fairies. Morgan has always possessed the ability to see into the future: who will get into Harvard, who is gay and whose relationships will last (“It's not my fault. I just deliver the mail; I don't write it,” she says). As the teens' sweet 16 approaches (they share a birthday), Cam begins to grow wings, and his odd cousin Pip appears to explain that Cam must return to the Otherworld, enter into an arranged marriage and become king of that realm. While plotting to save Cam as he shrinks into a fairy, Pip and Morgan develop their own romance. The plot of Balog's debut novel unfolds quickly, without much suspense, and while Morgan's voice is often entertaining, she feels somewhat remote as a narrator—it's difficult to get a sense of her as a character. An intermittently gripping if not especially memorable addition to the urban faerie genre. Ages 12–up. (June)

In this debut YA, Hollings adds to the Mean Girls subgenre by introducing Amelia Warner, a master backstabber and experienced liar, whose academic father can't afford the A-list life she desperately wants. Chapters alternate between the viewpoints of conniving Amelia (actual name: Ann), nouveau riche Courtney Moore (Amelia's wealthy target) and Amelia's brother, Zach, whose main appeal appears to be his looks. The plot basically revolves around Amelia piling lie upon lie in order to further dupe and con sweet-natured Courtney into inviting Amelia to stay at her spacious Manhattan apartment and buying Amelia everything from a Cartier watch to cocktails at the Carlyle Hotel. None of the characters is especially sympathetic—not even Courtney who is frustratingly gullible—and Amelia's lies are haphazard rather than clever. Hollings's prose does the usual name-dropping for every article of clothing mentioned and top-tier restaurant and club visited, giving the book the air of a manual for social climbers like Amelia. It's easy to envision readers Googling everything from Harry's Bar in Rome to Cohiba cigars to polish their own repartee. Ages 14–up. (June)

From shapes to postcards to A–Z, these concept books offer fresh and engaging fun.

Fold-down tabs expose the silly side of very young wild animals in this concept book that follows Bums, Tails and other titles in the series. “Meerkat babies” are revealed to be lounging in sunbathing attire on a beach blanket, as they “soak up the sun,” while “crocodile babies... know how to bite” (onto pacifiers). And “Fox babies... stay up all night” shaking maracas and a tambourine. The flaps add a peek-a-boo dimension that children should enjoy, as well as enhance the bright colors and big personalities of the featured animal babies. Ages 2–5. (July)

MacDonald (Alphabet Animals) uses die-cut pages to demonstrate how geometric shapes can build larger, recognizable forms. Against a bright yellow backdrop, two black circles peer back as the text reads, “Do you know what I am? I lived a long, long time ago.” Little by little, the creature is given shape: “I had round eyes” (when the page is turned and circles added, the black pupils of the creature get yellow irises. Next up: “Lots of sharp teeth” (nine white triangles), “a fierce glance” (a wide crescent) and “many, many scales” (lime green diamonds), bring the animal to life. The final fold-out spread reveals the prehistoric creature in full. Younger readers might not fully grasp the concept, but the nifty design produces a satisfying effect. Ages 3–7. (June)

Zany creatures—from furry monsters to more recognizable animals—celebrate different kinds of glittery lines that offer plenty of eye candy. The textural lines seem to have minds of their own as they shimmy across the pages, creating patterns and informing the simple, rhyming verse. On one spread, a mummy's bandages are unwrapped (“lines that curve/ lines that curl”), while on the following page a pink whale's blowhole makes “underwater lines that swirl.” Later, a red cat's paw loops through “lines with doggies at the end” (the accompanying image shows nine pink dachshunds on leashes). The creatures—and even a mean-looking thundercloud—brim with personality and create a sense of playful irreverence. Ages 4–8. (July)

Complete with a fold-out map to track their progress and stickers that resemble stamps, this compact book follows two cute, affectionate monkeys (rendered in a vaguely manga style with chunky outlines) named Kiwi and Pear as they jet around the world. Postcards with rhyming text explain how the pair have spent their time, followed by fold-out illustrations of their activities: “We paddle down the Amazon,/ then hike the Andes with backpacks on” (the fold-out shows Kiwi and Pear leading a friendly llama). In Paris, sporting red berets, they “bike for an hour,” then “climb the Eiffel Tower.” Their final voyage blasts them into outer space on a rocket before they return home. A sweet and rather cuddly introduction to some noteworthy global locations. Ages 4–8. (July)

It's the details that make this ABC book stand out from the crowd. Featuring historical and cultural highlights of Great Britain (Giant's Causeway, punk music, vindaloo), each letter of the alphabet gets a uniquely stylized treatment in Bate's mixed media art. For “H is for Holmes,” Sherlock peers at readers through a magnifying glass, complete with pipe and deerstalker hat, while in “N is for Nessie,” the benevolent-looking creature hovers in murky light-infused water. Readers will also get a kick out of the 58-letter name of a Welsh village that begins with L (the glossary provides a rough pronunciation, as well as extra information on the other topics). The diversity of subjects makes it a prime pick for Anglophiles of all ages. Ages 5–8. (July)