Children's Book Reviews: 7/27/2009

Droll text and exuberant illustrations render a toddler's tantrum in all its magnificence. “Finn likes peaches. Usually,” the book opens, as tiny egg-shaped Finn sits on a chair, dangling his yellow boots and holding his peach. “But today, Finn doesn't like peaches. Today, Finn doesn't like anything.” Finn's parents attempt to placate him as he glowers; his mother, kneeling, proffers peaches, his father holds out toys—even the dog grins. No dice. Finn's tantrum roils the house (“Tidal waves sweep through the living room. Hurricanes rage in the dining room”) until, suddenly, it's over (“It lasts until it doesn't”). Elliott (On the Farm) and Ering (The Story of Frog Belly Rat Bone) operate like the left and right hands of a single comic mind; each tongue-in-cheek line of text is deftly countered with raw charcoal scrawls, wild strokes of paint and crazed scribbles. Small readers will giggle at the realization of their angry feelings—complete with rippling lengths of toilet paper, floods of tears and flying crockery—while parents will blanch at the brilliant exposition of the power their children hold over them. Ages 2–4. (Aug.)

Other than some squeaks, hoots and one enormous roar, Pinkney's (Little Red Riding Hood) interpretation of Aesop's fable is wordless—as is its striking cover, which features only a head-on portrait of the lion's face. Mottled, tawny illustrations show a mouse unwittingly taking refuge on a lion's back as it scurries away from an owl. The large beast grabs and then releases the tiny creature, who later frees the lion who has become tangled in a hunter's snare. Pinkney enriches this classic tale of friendship with another universal theme—family—affectingly illustrated in several scenes as well as in the back endpapers, which show the lion walking with his mate and cubs as the mouse and her brood ride on his back. Pinkney's artist's note explains that he set the book in Africa's Serengeti, “with its wide horizon and abundant wildlife so awesome yet fragile—not unlike the two sides of each of the heroes.” Additional African species grace splendid panoramas that balance the many finely detailed, closeup images of the protagonists. Pinkney has no need for words; his art speaks eloquently for itself. Ages 3–6. (Sept.)

Mother Goose rhymes are recast with a distinctly maritime theme, taking readers up and down America's waterways, from coast to coast. “One Potato, Two Potato,” here “One Flamingo,” becomes a musing on collective nouns for coastal species: “Seagulls form a colony, and curlews form a herd./ But cormorants are called a gulp—they're such a silly bird.” And rather than sugar and spice, little gulls are made of “Mischief and daring and one pickled herring,/ that's what little gulls are made of.” Most of Nolan's (the Down Girl and Sit series) rhymes are only passing clever, and McLennan's (The Rainforest Grew All Around) images possess a safe, generic feel—there aren't many flights of imagination on display. But this might be a nice one to tuck into the beach bag, with an eye toward turning time under the beach umbrella into teachable moments. Ages 3–7. (Aug.)

The rival towns of Left and Right provide the fanciful medieval setting of this middling fable by the creators of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. Recalling etchings, Ron Barrett's pen-and-ink art humorously depicts the towns' separatist stances (“We proudly serve leftovers” announces a sign at Lefty's restaurant, while the words on Right's clock tower, which displays only the right side of the clock face, boasts “Always the Right Time”). Mayhem erupts when someone inadvertently does the unthinkable and crosses the dotted yellow line separating the two towns. Armor-clad members of the Order of the Ambidextrous Knights of the Dotted Yellow Line begin firing the only ammunition they have: thousands of marshmallows. A knight finally “realized how silly the whole thing was” and suggests that the divisive line between the towns be wiped out, which ends the marshmallow attack—and the longstanding enmity. Many of the tale's particulars are silly indeed, and the message about respecting differences ends up getting buried beneath the fluff. Ages 3–8. (Aug.)

Bartleby Huddle, a winsome three-year-old with jug-handle ears, is the joy of his opera-singing mother, his cello-playing father, his tap-dancing sister and their enthusiastic poodle. But he won't talk, no matter how much they clamor to show him how. It's not until Grampy Huddle visits on Bartleby's birthday that the boy's real soul mate is revealed (no coincidence that Grampy has jug-handle ears, too). Out on the porch swing “they listened to the lilacs swish in the breeze. They swung. They held hands... And they didn't say a word.” Hawkes's (The Road to Oz) clear, sunny watercolors lift the story to pleasing heights, like the balloons at Bartleby's birthday party. There, like an oracle, Bartleby speaks at last: “Listen!” is his first word—and his family does, hearing sounds they've never heard before. The story brightens considerably when Cruise (Only You) introduces Grampy. The dual themes—accepting children as they are, and understanding the meaning of silence—could easily compete for readers' attention. Fortunately, in this duo's hands, they appear as a satisfying whole. Ages 4–8. (Aug.)

While this variant of Aesop's “The Fox and the Grapes” is decidedly more entertaining than the original, the moral of the fable is less clear. Palatini's distinctive characters are all amiable, except for the condescending Fox, who prides himself on being “Sly. Clever. Smart.” With expert watercolors, Moser (who collaborated with Palatini on The Three Silly Billies) subtly retains the lifelike appearances of the animals without sacrificing individualistic expression. Fox's enthusiastic plans to get the grapes are filled with convoluted equations and graphs: “Bear stands—here. Beaver stands on Bear's head—there. Porcupine stands on Beaver's tail. I stand on Porcupine.... Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.... and—voila! Grapes!” When the other characters explain their infinitely simpler plans to get the grapes, Fox turns “with a huff and a sniff” and says, “I, for one, wouldn't think of eating those lousy, rotten, stinkin' grapes now.” The traditional sour grapes ending feels tacked on, given the “Pride goeth before a fall” theme Palatini effectively develops throughout the story. Ages 4–8. (Aug.)

The lonely Nobble (an implike creature with “two lovely wings and little claws on his fingers and a bunch of nice toes”) has never met another living being, but after a long journey he is found by a girl who, in turn, leads him to another Nobble. The Nobble-meets-Nobble romance charms, as does the creature's E.T.-like naïveté. Because he's never met anyone else, he not only must learn what a door is but also what knocking is, and the importance of saying “Who's there?” instead of “Where when?” Caldecott Medalist Gammell, working in an eerie rather than sprightly mode, renders the Nobble as Williams describes him, but avoids visualizing some of the text's more fanciful images (as when the Nobble takes walks “on the bumps under the word asparagus or,... in the river that runs along beneath piano strings”). Instead, he paints the Nobbles in cloudy alien landscapes of gray, shot through with spidery filaments. Williams's text (there's a good deal more than in the average picture book) looks dense but reads lightly. Once past the initial dreariness of the Nobble's solitary existence, the story moves swiftly toward its end, with sweetly poignant giggles throughout. Ages 6–9. (Sept.)

Tired of being ignored by classmates, Newt and his two best friends decide to create Halloween costumes that will make them stand out and let them discover their “inner other.... who we would be if we didn't have to be us.” But before Halloween arrives, 10-year-old Newt's world shatters: his football star brother, Chris, is knocked unconscious in the season's final game and lies comatose in the hospital. At the last minute, Newt fashions a superhero Halloween costume from Chris's old clothes and dubs himself Captain Nobody. Wearing this outfit during the ensuing days, Newt ushers home a lost man with dementia, foils a jewelry-store robbery and inadvertently brings traffic to a standstill, clearing the freeway just in time for a plane's emergency landing. Despite his spotlight-grabbing heroics, the frustrated boy laments, “I can't even save my own brother.” Though Pitchford (The Big One-Oh) builds suspense adeptly, the novel takes some improbable turns. Yet the young narrator's earnest voice—and his raw sense of helplessness—are real and affecting. Ages 8–12. (July)

Corbett (Free Baseball), a journalist and PW contributor, writes an energetic story of a boy whose passion saves the spirit of his small town of Steele, Pa. Twelve-year-old Wil cannot wait to take over his brother Sonny's paper route, a job that has been in his family for decades. So when the publishers of the Cooper County Caller decide to cut costs by eliminating delivery to Steele, Wil takes action (“He has a tendency to argue his point until the other person collapses from fatigue,” his mother remarks). But Wil discovers that he has more to contend with than losing his job when the town clairvoyant gives him some ominous advice—“You must watch carefully.” His suspicion mounts when the Cooper County Fair opens and no one is able to win the large cash prize in the Cover the Spot game. In addition to trying to save his route, Wil assigns himself the task of solving that mystery (“Steele Boy Opens Investigation,” reads one of the headline-style chapter openers), bringing his community together in the process. Corbett's graceful dialogue, lovingly drawn characters and clever plot form a timely and refreshing tale. Ages 10–up. (Sept.)

British poet Agard pulls off the formidable task of modernizing Dante's 14th-century Inferno for a teenage audience. This heavily illustrated version features a young black protagonist (wearing a hoodie emblazoned with the word Hell) who travels to the underworld with fable master Aesop as his guide. He encounters sinners of a contemporary variety, as the streetwise narrative echoes the format and rhyme scheme of the original “He caused a child's death in a stolen car./ But did he stop? No. And that's because/ he had drunk himself over the limit by far.” Agard also offers commentary critical of modern politicians and events. In Hell's Seventh Circle, readers find “that smooth duo who caused much blood to flow/ between the Tigris and Euphrates” (unmistakable are the silhouettes of President Bush and Prime Minister Blair). Kitamura's edgy illustrations, rendered in black, white and grays, jump from the page. Cutouts, geometric motifs and cartoon-styling create a youth-friendly yet still-haunting effect. While this fresh take will be most appreciated by those familiar with Dante's work, its potential to ignite curiosity about the original should not be underestimated. Ages 11–13. (July)

Psychology major Leigh Nolan wants to devote her life to analyzing people, but in her first year at a small, highly liberal college, she has her hands full trying to decipher the meaning behind her own idiosyncrasies. Why is she so reluctant to buy a parking sticker when the tickets she has accumulated will cost far more than a decal? Why can't she pinpoint a happy moment that she's experienced? Why hasn't she had sex with the boy she's been dating for over a year? In a romantic comedy that at the same time deals frankly with sexual issues, first-time author Thompson pokes fun at academia as she explores Leigh's muddled feelings about her boyfriend and his good-looking roommate, Nathan. Ironies abound in this novel, and the supporting cast of offbeat characters—Leigh's unconventional parents (“My mom teaches shamanistic dance at the local Y, and my dad takes a weeklong vow of silence every year. Their view of 'normal' is a little skewed”); her arty roommate, Ami; and Rebekah, the smart-alecky, all-too-worldly middle schooler Leigh mentors—add depth. Ages 12–up. (Aug.)

An Irish-American backdrop gives this girl-struggling-to-find-herself story a colorful twist. Sheltered by her “Da” and a band of burly uncles, Molly has never had to stand on her own two feet. When it dawns on her that she is being pushed into things she doesn't want to do by her edgy best friend Vanessa and boyfriend Trevor (both of whom end up betraying her), Molly decides it's time to follow her father's advice to “be wise and wide. Guard yourself like a leprechaun would protect his treasure.” The opportunity to do something totally for herself comes from her nine-year-old neighbor, who introduces Molly to the Girl Corps, an organization dedicated to helping young girls become strong, confident women. As the newest (and oldest) member of the group, Molly struggles to meet the high expectations of her stern leader, but lessons in responsibility and self-respect prove fruitful. Beyond the girl-power message, Goldblatt's (Stray) intimate novel effectively conveys Molly's uncertainties and internal growth as she becomes more inclined to do what she believes is right. Ages 12–up. (July)

This first collaboration between bestselling mystery author Faye Kellerman and her teenage daughter Aliza has an enticing premise but falls short. After a van accident in the desert during a school trip, high schooler Kaida Hutchenson and two classmates seek shelter in a cave and have the mysterious sensation of falling as they seek an exit. Kaida then wakes up in her own bedroom, thinking the past events are a dream. Everything seems normal (she awakens to Metallica on the radio) until she witnesses a white-robed “cleanup crew” take away an injured man who's been hit by a car. With some investigation and help from a cute boy, Kaida discovers that she is in an alternate dimension where medicine and health care are illegal, and where those who go against the natural order of the world are dealt with in a Big Brother–like manner. Though the slow-building mystery is handled deftly, the execution of the mirror world feels simplistic, with the authors basically sidestepping the broader ramifications that a lack of medicine would have had on human society over time. Ages 12–up. (July)

Portman's second novel (after King Dork) offers the story of Andromeda Klein, a tarot and occult–obsessed loner contending with typical teenage challenges—a cruel social order, being summarily dumped by her crush—as well as with the recent death of her best friend, Daisy; the possibility that her occult practices are having real-world consequences; and her library's decision to purge its shelves of little-read books that happen to be her favorites. Andromeda is also hard of hearing, and her ongoing misinterpretations give the book its appealing, idiosyncratic voice and unique lexicon (discombobulated becomes “action-populated,” and “bacon” means pagan). Portman's depiction of Andromeda's struggles in her claustrophobic world is skilled and affectionate; despite her strangeness, readers will identify with her feelings of isolation. The frequent references to the occult make for a slow, intricate and arcane journey and are likely to limit the book's audience. However, those up for the challenge will find plenty of food for thought. As Portman writes, “Most magical writing is deliberately obscure, designed to hide crucial matters from the uninitiated yet reveal them to those who know how to read the texts properly.” Ages 14–up. (Aug.)

In this powerful debut, Borris follows a group of teenagers, each of whom has attempted suicide. Jin-Ae (a studious lesbian), Frank (a dejected sports lover), Nirvana-obsessed Audrey and lonely narrator Owen meet in a chat room and make a pact to take a cross-country “Celebrity Suicide Road Trip,” stopping at the graves of Hunter S. Thompson, Kurt Cobain and others (“We're visiting our suicide family—our people,” says Owen). They plan to kill themselves when they reach Death Valley. The well-developed characters have distinct reasons and histories that led to their earlier suicide attempts (a breakup, the death of a sibling). Their conversations over the weeks are tense, candid and often tempered with snarky humor: “Nothing like a four-way suicide pact to get you going in the morning,” says Jin-Ae. Interspersed with chat-room flashbacks and Top 10 lists, Owen's delicate and insightful narrative voice carries the novel: “I suppose it doesn't matter what form love takes; maybe we just need to take it when it comes.” It's a strikingly real account of an improvised family and the ways people change and grow. Ages 14–up. (July)

Here are a few encyclopedic books that will have kids flipping the pages instead of clicking the mouse.

This updated visual dictionary, first published in 2005, features more than 700 clearly labeled images of inanimate objects, food items and living things. A section called “The Living Room” contains common items including a remote control, telephone and DVD player. Among the animals living “In the Forest” are a slug, owl and stag. Though the items are sometimes inconsistent in their scale (a pink roll of toilet paper is as large as the toilet beside it), the artwork (and assorted reader-directed questions) will engage the curious. Ages 4–8. (June)

Beginning with the formation of the Earth, this guide to “firsts,” organized geographically, features playful illustrations and captions that highlight a hodgepodge of world events. For a section on South America and Antarctica, a bag of coffee beans symbolizes “Brazil's first coffee plantation,” and an illustrated primate in Madidi National Park represents “the first species of monkey to be named by auction.” A spread on African firsts cites such events as Zimbabwe hosting the “All-African games for the first time in 1995” and the filming of Star Wars in the desert near Tawzar (beside an image of R2-D2 and C-3P0). Trivia fans will find plenty to pore over. Ages 6–10. (July)

The breadth of information contained in this colorful encyclopedia (there are more than 4,000 entries) make it worthy of any child's desk. Broad categories like “Space,” “Living World,” “Culture,” and “The Human Body” are explored through detail-rich subsections accompanied by plenty of photographs, drawings and diagrams. Overarching questions such as “What is government?” provide comprehensible examination of difficult concepts with plenty of cues to launch additional exploration into the extensive range of topics. Ages 7–up. (July)

The vibrant flag images included in this flag-shaped, coffee-table–appropriate book are treated as works of art in and of themselves, with many taking up a full page (spot art depicts native peoples, sites and animals). The symbolic components of each flag are analyzed (the flag for Papua New Guinea features a yellow bird found nowhere else in the world), and statistical, sociological and geographical information is given for each country. Flag aficionados and students of geography should appreciate the attention paid to each stylized form. Ages 8–12. (Aug.)