Children's Book Reviews: 8/17/2009

Readers of classic children's books will find traces of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, Little Toot and The Story of Ferdinand in this story of “a friendly little tractor.” Otis the tractor loves to work as much as he loves to play. When he snores in the barn, his “soft putt puff puttedy chuff” consoles a motherless calf. Otis and the calf become pals, and Long (who reillustrated The Little Engine That Could) pictures them sitting under a tree in Ferdinand the bull's iconic pose. Yet this idyll cannot last. Otis's owner (no loyal Mike Mulligan) purchases a huge “brand-new yellow tractor” and puts Otis out to pasture, where “the weeds began to cover his tires.” Only when the calf gets stuck in a muddy pond does Otis rev to the rescue. Long fashions Otis's headlamps as eyes and accents the charcoal gray and fawn brown gouache with apple red, buttery yellow and denim blue. Resurrecting stories of sweet machines aiding helpless animals is not easy in an era concerned with fossil fuels and feedlots, but Long's story should inspire readers to revisit old favorites. Ages 3–5. (Sept.)

Harper's (Milo's Special Words) sweet if occasionally static tales introduce two ambiguous creatures whose mild sparring gives way to amicable truces. Mimi is the headstrong instigator of the duo, Lulu the problem solver. In the first story, Mimi, wearing a flouncy pink frock and boa, insists she only likes pink things, until Lulu, dressed head-to-toe in purple, offers to share her purple frosted cupcake. Lulu again makes peace when Mimi ignores her while allegedly chatting on the phone with another friend (“That's not even a real phone,” accuses Lulu) by craftily enticing Mimi with “a flying pink elephant ride.” In the book's flattest story, Lulu announces she must go home before they've had time to play princess, easing her friend's subsequent histrionics by lending Mimi her purple hair bow. As spare as the text, Harper's artwork sets these friends and minimal props against white backdrops, keeping attention on the characters and their changing emotional states. Deceptively simple, the stories reveal plenty about the tricky realities of early friendships and the rewards of compromise and generosity. Ages 3–6. (Sept.)

The lyrics to Paxton's folksong will be familiar to sing-along fans: “It went zip! when it moved/ And bop! when it stopped/ And whirr! when it stood still./ I never knew just what it was,/ And I guess I never will.” In this picture book adaptation, the boy receives the toy from his father, they enjoy it together, and the boy later passes it on to his own son with similar enthusiasm. Cox's (Stuff!: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle) supercharged spreads propel the song into the 21st century. Although the spindly, alien-looking toy is never completely visible, the rainbow-colored protrusions that are shown emit airbrushed beams, while sparks zoom and zip behind it, illuminating the night and leaving a trail of magic in its wake. In contrast to the toy's dramatics, father and son appear quite ordinary; the boy wears a red T-shirt and jeans, the father a shirt and necktie, clearly back from a nine-to-five job. The story's modern setting and the artwork's airbrushed quality may well attract children who wouldn't otherwise hear Paxton's music (four Paxton songs are enclosed on a CD). Ages 3–8. (Aug.)

Mull's (the Fablehaven series) mischievous story introduces a boy named Chad with a furry, goblinlike imaginary friend, Pingo, who sports polka-dotted boxers and a striped scarf. For a time, Pingo and Chad happily battle ninjas and concoct magical potions, but in adolescence Chad decides it's time to leave his pal behind, claiming, “If I stop believing in you, you'll disappear!” Not so. Undaunted, Pingo becomes Chad's “imaginary enemy,” leading nighttime “pirate raids” and filling his backpack with maple syrup and peanut butter while the teen flirts with a girl. As a lonely elderly man, Chad relents and tells a delighted Pingo that he wants to be friends again, leading to another round of adventures (the final illustration, which echoes the book's first, shows the duo playing in a tent fashioned from a blanket as a doctor pushes a wheelchair past Chad's room). The message about hanging onto the magic of childhood comes through clearly (indeed, Pingo even bears a strong resemblance to Chad), and Dorman's brassy, exaggerated cartoon art should have kids giggling over Pingo's antics. Ages 3–up. (Aug.)

While Heide's celebrated Treehorn found himself shrinking, her new Princess Hyacinth floats. The delight to be found in both books is not in explaining why these fantastical things occur, but in how children with even the most unusual problems solve them in ways that adults cannot imagine. To keep her from floating away, Hyacinth's protective parents have literally weighted her down with diamond pebbles and a crown with “the heaviest jewels of the kingdom.” Smith pictures Hyacinth yearning for freedom as she sits in her bathing suit watching swimmers while belted to a heavy bench, or stoically drags her heavy clothing around the castle. The quirky oil and watercolor illustrations seamlessly match Heide's wry, understated text, and when Hyacinth eventually does float away, it's her soul mate, named Boy, who lends a hand and opens a new, freer chapter in her life. Heide possesses the ability to tell a moralistic tale without a hint of didacticism and makes this singular tale seem like the story of every girl who meets a boy, shedding the protective rules of her parents in exchange for a life where she is “never bored again.” Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

Trixie Twinkle Toes Trot-a-Lot Delight, a white poodle, hates her “far too poodley” name—she prefers names like “Growler and Gripper and Chomper and Squasher.” She doesn't want to wear little pink ponchos and wishes her owner, Verity Brulée, would let her step in puddles like other dogs. “I want to catch sticks and roll in the mud. I want to be dangerous and daring,” Trixie tells a psychiatrist, one of several experts Verity consults (“But of course the psychiatrist could not understand her”). A brave rescue finally helps Verity understand Trixie's desires. Young readers will sympathize with Trixie and savor the details of her posh urban existence (“There was a maid to plump her pillows and a cook to prepare her nibbles and a butler to carry her over the puddles”). Child's (the Clarice Bean books) collages contain all the action Trixie's life lacks, sizzling with dizzying colors and patterns; her sentences lead adventurous lives of their own, curlicuing, shrinking, growing and spiraling into muddy puddles. Underneath the giggles, the tension between Trixie and her oblivious owner makes for a surprisingly absorbing read. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

Napoli (Ready to Dream) reworks folktale elements into a new and startling whole. After an earthquake, dark-haired Parisa is her town's lone survivor. Only menacing animals—Boar, Snapping Turtle, Bear, Owl, Snake, Wolf and Lion—remain. When she approaches them, they threaten her (Boar says her hands remind him of a hunter: “Run, or I'll gore a hole through you”). Swiatkowska's (My Name Is Yoon) oil paintings give these nightmarish scenes a luxurious richness, using thick brushstrokes, vivid forms and milky, dreamlike colors. At first, Parisa conforms to the animals' wishes, covering the parts of her body they object to. But she soon resolves to “just be with myself. And do what humans do.” She grows things, dances, laughs and cooks, and when she does, the animals come to her freely. Although it could be read as a defense of the special position of humans, Parisa's story is better understood as a statement about the courage to be true to oneself, and the way the world aligns itself with those who do. While the story contains some frightening images, the questions it poses are important. Ages 4–8. (Aug.)

Regan's (Monster Baby) parody specializes in terrible puns and broad humor, the kind young readers adore. At a poetry slam arranged by Yo Mama Goose, a kerosene lantern lights the proceedings as each animal takes the stage. Charley Horse rants about hay while Cow's wry “The Truth about Cows” quips (“We do not sing./ We do not type”). Duck ruffles feathers with her awkward rhyme scheme, and Lamb offers a Dr. Seuss takeoff (“I would not leave my friendly flocks./ I would not follow Wolf or Fox”). Only Turkey's hurt feelings throw a wrench in the competition (she objects to the invitation, which reads “Be there or Be-headed,” and refuses to perform). The puns fly thick and fast, and Meisel's (Harriet's Had Enough!) warm and goofy pen-and-ink spreads convey the story's humor and energy (though the do-rags and bandannas the animals all wear come across as lame rather than hip). Adults may groan, but kids should find this more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Ages 4–8. (Aug.)

Christian, the lion who was adopted from a London department store by the authors (and whose story has garnered worldwide attention via a popular YouTube video), narrates this scrapbook-style account, based on the authors' 1971 work, A Lion Called Christian. Captions and photographs (both in b&w and color) create an entertaining and lighthearted portrait of the lion, beginning with images of his “dad” and “mom” at England's Ilfracombe Zoo Park, followed by his life after being adopted by Bourke and Rendall (a section titled “Exploring!” shows Christian sheepishly chewing on a trash basket and rummaging through a drawer of clothes). When Christian finally ends up in Kenya, he declares, “My new home! Africa was very different. It was very hot and dry.” An endnote from Bourke and Rendall explains the circumstances of their moving reunion with Christian a year after leaving him in Kenya. Animal lovers in general as well as those already familiar with this true story should appreciate the intimate, visual presentation. Ages 4–8. (Aug.)

In this jaunty debut, “R Robot,” a stocky blue robot with a single antenna and mechanical pincers, has an important job to do at the factory: locate a missing robot “who was last seen at lunchtime the day before.” All of the robots—who resemble R Robot, other than some variations in size, color and appendages—join in the search for their missing friend, making a “big mess” in the process. When lunchtime rolls around, the robots discover that “Big Cooker” (a colossal barrel-shaped robot wearing a chef's hat) is malfunctioning and send in R to investigate. Readers are likely to guess the source of the clog and laugh aloud when R Robot, the headless missing employee and a spray of metallic detritus spew out of Big Cooker's backside. (R Robot uses the “extra head” he always brings to work “just in case” to fix up the missing robot, though the final page oddly shows the newcomer with an orange, not blue, head.) With charisma to spare, the robots—expressive even without defined facial features—carry the simple story line to its rollicking conclusion. Ages 5–8. (Aug.)

In this simple but well-done tale, Newbery Medal–winner Gaiman (The Graveyard Book) introduces Odd, a boy with an injured leg whose Viking father died at sea. Odd befriends the Norse gods Odin, Thor and Loki, who have been transformed into animals and exiled from Asgard. The gods, having previously tricked and bested the Frost Giants, are now receiving some of their own medicine. Showing great ingenuity, Odd figures out how to reach Asgard and then convinces the Frost Giant that ruling Asgard isn't so great (after all, admits the giant, his prize, the beautiful goddess Freya, “only comes up to the top of my foot. She shouts louder than a giantess when she's angry. And she's always angry”). The gods and the giant, though powerful, come across as self-involved and vaguely simpleminded, clearly in need of a resourceful young fellow like Odd to help set things straight. Although less original than Coraline or The Wolves in the Walls, this enjoyable story should appeal to Gaiman's younger fans. Final art not seen by PW. Ages 8–12. (Sept.)

In DiCamillo's fifth novel, a clairvoyant tells 10-year-old Peter, an orphan living with a brain-addled ex-soldier, that an elephant will lead him to his sister, who the ex-soldier claims died at birth. The fortuneteller's prediction seems cruelly preposterous as there are no pachyderms anywhere near Baltese, a vaguely eastern European city enduring a bitter winter. Then that night at the opera house, a magician “of advanced years and failing reputation” attempts to conjure a bouquet of lilies but instead produces an elephant that crashes through the ceiling. Peter learns that both magician and beast have been jailed, and upon first glimpse of the imprisoned elephant, Peter realizes that his fate and the elephant's are linked. The mannered prose and Tanaka's delicate, darkly hued paintings give the story a somber and old-fashioned feel. The absurdist elements—street vendors peddle chunks of the now-infamous opera house ceiling with the cry “Possess the plaster of disaster!”—leaven the overall seriousness, and there is a happy if predictable ending for the eccentric cast of anguished characters, each finding something to make them whole. Ages 8–13. (Sept.)

Despite an occasionally disjointed plot and roving points of view, this story of middle-school classmates who come together to honor their teacher and her war-injured brother entertains. Bo Whaley has a tough time living up to the high standards expected of the son of an Air Force base colonel. In Miss Loupe's sixth-grade class, however, Bo not only avoids trouble, but excels (his teacher's unconventional methods include frequent use of improvisational performance). Then Bo's angry and uncooperative cousin, Gari, moves in when her mom is sent to serve as a nurse in Iraq, and Miss Loupe learns that her brother has been seriously injured in Afghanistan. Soon, Gari, Bo and the rest of Room 208 are hatching a plan to help Miss Loupe, her brother and their dilapidated school on the North Carolina base. Holmes's (Letters from Rapunzel) story, told in third-person, bounces around some in its focus, alighting on different characters' thoughts at various moments. Still, Miss Loupe is the kind of teacher every kid dreams about, and the “all for one, one for all” mentality that comes through as the students band together is inspiring. Ages 9–12. (Sept.)

This bewitching first book in the Poisons of Caux trilogy introduces 11-year-old Ivy Manx, who lives with her apotheopath (healer) uncle Cecil in Caux, a once pleasant kingdom now “a hotbed of wickedness and general mischief” run by King Nightshade; his wife, Artilla; and the sinister Vidal Verjouce. Skills once used to heal are now used to poison, and only those who can afford one of Verjouce's Guild-certified “tasters” (who ensure food's purity) are safe. One year after the disappearance of her uncle, Ivy is forced to flee her home, pursued by agents of the Crown and the Guild, her travels taking her across Caux and revealing her fated role as her homeland's savior. Debut author Appelbaum's stylish, atmospheric prose is well matched by Taylor's warm interior illustrations (printed in green, along with the text), which offer rich, angular portraits. Caux is an enchanting, unusual setting that echoes the complexity of its heroes and villains alike. “High above the tallest trees, you can feel the land's misfortune,” Appelbaum writes. “You might feel it even pulling you in.” Ages 9–13. (Aug.)

Dyed-in-the-wings fairy fans will best appreciate Hanley's (The Seer and the Sword) novel vision of Feyland, a world of fairies, genies, leprechauns and gnomes. After her parents and brother take a portal to Earth and are captured by humans, Zaria Tourmaline, a fairy, is orphaned and left in the care of her teacher. Three years later, as Zaria is coming into her power, she can't shake her fascination with the land of humans. Zaria and her best friend Leona (who both learn they are exceptionally powerful fairies) use an unsecured portal to visit and explore Earth, but are spotted and recorded by humans, which leads to being disciplined by Feyland's High Council. Still, the girls can't resist the lure of Earth and, eventually, uncover a plot that threatens Feyland. Although magic in Feyland is regulated, rationed and taxed, spells and deceptions fly fast and furious (Hanley provides background about Zaria's world in chapter introductions). While the fact that the characters' surnames are all gems and minerals feels, ahem, precious, tween readers will appreciate the strong friendships between Zaria and her allies. Ages 10–14. (Aug.)

Choldenko's follow-up to her Newbery Honor novel Al Capone Does My Shirts picks up where the first volume ended. It's August 1935 and 12-year-old narrator Moose Flanagan's autistic sister, Natalie, is headed to a boarding school for special needs children, promising an easier life for him and his parents (“We've been three people and an octopus all of my life, and now the octopus is gone”). But since Natalie's enrollment was secretly engineered by the prison's most notorious inmate, it's an ominous development when Moose finds a note in his laundry that reads “Your turn,” written in Capone's script. It takes another 100 pages for the tension to ratchet up, but fans of the first book will enjoy getting reacquainted; Piper, the warden's manipulative daughter, and Darby Trixle, a noxious guard, provide lots of conflict for good-natured Moose. The hourly count bell, carping gulls and rumble of the fog horn form a soundtrack that Moose calls “the ticking of our own island clock.” Ages 10–up. (Sept.)

Teenage Ernie is overweight, his mother's matching physique and love of food make it hard for him to diet, and he's the target of a cruel group of jocks. But his best and only friend Will has it even worse (“That's life in the Manson family” is Will's frequent refrain). While Ernie has a caring mother and uncle to fall back on, Will's mother abandoned the family, and his father is arrested for child endangerment after Will's younger brother dies in a fishing accident with Ernie and Will. Will is also victimized by jocks at school, who mock him even after a suicide attempt. Ernie does what he can to help Will, talking with him and inviting him to his uncle's cabin for Christmas. But as the abuse from the jocks worsens, Will is driven to bring a gun to school. Hyde (Becoming Chloe) has created sympathetic, fully developed characters in likable Ernie and tortured and somewhat cerebral Will. The moment of crisis is chillingly believable and will have readers on the edge of their seats. Ages 12–up. (Aug.)

In 15-year-old Mia Morrow, Haycak creates a realistic portrait of a teenage girl whose life is spiraling out of control. First, Mia is caught shoplifting and, as punishment, must pay the store $300. Her penchant for partying and aversion to studying drive a wedge between her and her two best friends. Additionally, her alcoholic mother has relapsed, and her grandfather, the one person who seems to have faith in her, is dying. At first, readers won't necessarily sympathize with impulsive “bad girl” Mia, but her story is compelling enough to keep reading, if only to discover how low Mia will sink. With painstaking yet gratifying care, Haycak (Red Palms) eventually starts Mia along the path of self-realization and forgiveness. Mia finds common ground with her mother, discovering they are both “reaching for something outside themselves to cure what was wrong on the inside,” and forgives her friends as well as herself. Readers who stick with Mia until the end will be glad they did. Ages 12–up. (Aug.)

When 16-year-old Katrina leaves coffee and pastries for the homeless guy sleeping behind her grandmother's coffeehouse, she has no idea he's actually an angel named Malcolm, who will change her life by giving her coffee beans that will bring her what she most desires. Katrina is skeptical, even after her best friend, Vincent, drinks coffee from the first bean and gains fortune, and the second bean is eaten by the coffeehouse cat, Ratcatcher, who becomes famous for killing a huge wharf rat. Instead, she is too busy worrying about aggressive attempts by neighboring coffee shop Java Heaven to drive them out of business. When Vincent starts dating Heidi, daughter of the owner of Java Heaven, the friends have a falling out. Bits of Scandinavian culture lace Selfors's (Saving Juliet) smalltown America setting, and she ties up the loose ends nicely. Though this airy story is slow to start, the conclusion will satisfy. Ages 12–up. (Aug.)

Kids, adults, scholars—anyone interested in getting some behind-the-scenes info on children's books and their creators, past and present, will find much to enjoy in these eclectic offerings.

In 12 entertaining interviews (and one equally entertaining e-mail from Daniel Pinkwater declining to participate), Marcus's compilation explores the childhoods, writing processes and senses of humor of well-known writers for children, including Judy Blume, Beverly Cleary, Daniel Handler, Norton Juster and Jon Scieszka. Marcus's evident knowledge of his subjects' writing makes for some intriguing questions and answers (“I used to crack jokes a lot, but they would always land kind of flat,” says Louis Sachar. “One of the nice things about being a writer is that you get to rewrite—and take back all the stupid things you said”). Photographs, manuscript pages and even e-mail chains between the writers and their editors add fascinating tidbits. Ages 10–up. (Oct.)

Containing the entire text and artwork from Dahl's 1984 autobiography Boy, this reworked and expanded version also incorporates previously unpublished materials from the Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre in England, as well as excerpts that have appeared in earlier books. From harrowing accounts of a doctor's visit to have his adenoids removed (“He spoke gently, and I was seduced by his voice. Like an ass, I opened my mouth”) to school life (including several run-ins with a cane), Dahl's revealing writing, open and full of wicked humor, is certain to endear the beloved writer known to his family as “Boy” to a new generation. Ages 10–up. (Sept.)

Billing itself as “the first picture book ever done for modern children and their world” when it was published in 1926, this story of an industrious mechanical boy returns with a critical essay by professor and PW contributor Nathalie op de Beeck and a foreword from Harvard's John Stilgoe. Liddell's lithe hero uses drills, shovels, looms and electricity to demonstrate technology's seemingly limitless possibilities. The modern, playful artwork and some whimsical asides (“He isn't making anything but noise in this picture,” writes Liddell as Little Machinery gleefully operates a jackhammer) will delight the design-minded. In looking at how technology was depicted early in the assembly line–era, readers can see a clear conduit to children's ongoing fascination with trucks, tools and other mechanisms. (May)

Two strong new novels, both starring pastor's daughters, explore the sometimes thorny intersections of religion and family life.

Faith takes a front seat in National Book Award–finalist Zarr's (Story of a Girl) hard-hitting third novel. When 13-year-old Jody Shaw is kidnapped in broad daylight, her abduction rocks the once secure town of Pineview and her church community (“A thing like this changes the way you think about everything and everyone, and you can never go back”). Her disappearance provides an eerie backdrop to protagonist Samara Taylor's personal drama: her mother's alcoholism, which prompted a four-week stint in rehab, and her father's refusal to focus on anything (his marital problems, the inappropriateness of his relationship with a 26-year-old church member, his parental responsibilities) other than his role as pastor to a flock in need. Sam's questions regarding God's existence (“Do you just decide that you do believe, no matter what, and then force your mind shut when doubts try to come in?”) and her place in the world feel all-encompassing, aptly mirroring the mood of her close-knit community as they trawl for answers in Jody's case. Beyond delivering a gripping story, Zarr has a knack for exposing human weakness in the ordinary. Ages 12–up. (Oct.)

In her thoughtful debut, Zielin explores the pressures faced by a pastor's daughter (both her parents preach at her church) and the bonds that hold families and friendships together. Sixteen-year-old Emma believes in God, but isn't sure that she's actually experienced God in the way that fellow parishioners at Living Word Redeemer expect her to. She reads the newspaper more than the Bible and bristles when her parents give her brochures for conservative Christian colleges. Still, when a wealthy member of the church campaigns to remove her mother as pastor after a “prophecy,” Emma goes to bat for her beliefs and her family. Zielin gives Emma a wonderfully sarcastic voice (“Why couldn't I go anywhere without finding myself surrounded by people who thought choosing which item to get out of a vending machine required prayer?”) and delivers lively characters, such as Bear, a member of a born-again motorcycle gang who Emma meets at a “donut camp,” celebrating the opening of a doughnut shop. Along with Emma, readers will discover that faith, friendship and family often lead to unexpected kinds of victory. Ages 12–up. (Aug.)