Children's Book Reviews: 8/24/2009

DePaola's bighearted witch returns in a winning tale about generosity and cooperation. When the full moon shines at the end of May, Strega Nona enlists Big Anthony and Bambolona to help plant her annual vegetable garden. After singing to the moon, bidding it to “let the moonbeams shine from thee,/ To make my garden grow,” she adds her familiar “ingrediente segreto—secret ingredient”: three kisses she blows to the moon. In a diverting subplot, Big Anthony, who wants to impress bossy Bambolona with his green thumb, grows his own (considerably more slapdash) garden next door (he blows six kisses to the moon “just to be sure”). In the fall, both gardens flourish, and Big Anthony anonymously leaves huge piles of veggies outside Strega Nona's door. She, too, decides to share her bountiful harvest, hosting a feast for the grateful villagers. Readers get an introduction to some basic Italian words throughout, defined within the text or, in the case of the vegetables, in dePaola's signature, cheerful acrylic illustrations. Without an ounce of moralizing, dePaola demonstrates the benefits of sharing (not to mention eating locally). Ages 3–5. (Sept.)

Where Harold used his purple crayon to get out of scrapes, Jeremy's blue pen causes him problems after he designs a cantankerous, linebacker-sized monster who demands a long list of items before commanding, “Draw me a hat. I'm going out!” Jeremy draws a magnificent red top hat and the monster waddles out the door, only to return later that night and commandeer the bed. “The next morning, Jeremy drew a bus ticket and a suitcase,” and he last sees his tormentor watching him from the bus's back window. McCarty, who favored atmospheric, silver-gray pencil drawings in books like Moon Plane, floats this story's action in white negative space. Yet even if the pen, ink and watercolor illustrations have a sharper edge, the monster's wide-set pinprick eyes and squat, potato-shaped body echo McCarty's Hondo and Fabian. The monster is obnoxious, but it's also a catalyst: after it leaves, Jeremy quits his seclusion and plays with other kids. Jeremy's creation has attitude to spare and although it's annoying, readers may lament its hasty departure. Ages 3–6. (Sept.)

In Caldecott Medalist Hogrogian's (One Fine Day) wordless watercolor spreads, a group of animals brings color back into a bleak world—a world ostensibly ruined by humans. On the title page, a black cat with white paws sits in a brown wasteland of withered grass and broken bottles, looking through its paint box. On the next, it sets to work at the far edge of the panel, painting green leaves and grass. As it uses a rag to wipe blue over the brownish sky, it's joined by a mouse, who adds some red flowers with a smaller brush. By the end of the book, a community of animals celebrates together in the verdant, blossoming world they've recreated. The spreads are paced as carefully as a dance, as animals gradually appear one after another, first observing, then embarking on projects of their own. In Hogrogian'ssilent yet richly imagined vision of the Peaceable Kingdom, the animals do not just inhabit their world but work together to help mend it—a vision of possibility. Ages 3–6. (Sept.)

Tackling a topic no smaller than the world itself, Scanlon (A Sock Is a Pocket for Your Toes) and Frazee (A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever) invite children to explore a variety of its settings, starting with a beach where a young interracial family plays: “A moat to dig, a shell to keep/ All the world is wide and deep.” Tucked into a corner of the scene is a farmer's market, which becomes the focus of a subsequent spread (“Tomato blossom, fruit so red/ All the world's a garden bed”). This clever linking of Frazee's blithesome watercolor and pencil-streaked illustrations echoes the book's larger goal: to show the world's connectivity. The lively verse is consistently reassuring, even as life's stumbling blocks get their moment (“Slip, trip, stumble, fall/ Tip the bucket, spill it all/ Better luck another day/ All the world goes round this way”). Frazee's warm, endearing vignettes—a mother studying with her baby, grandparents embracing in their bathrobes—are a joyous counterpart to Scanlon's text. Together they create an empathic, welcoming whole. Ages 3–7. (Sept.)

Ostensibly, this is a familiar story of a dog that works its way into the hearts of a couple by virtue of its innate cuteness and quirky heroism. But what Jordan (Action Jackson) has really written is a portrait of an idiosyncratic, childless marriage. Mrs. Portly, an amateur painter, impulsively adopts Snack at a farmer's market, trying not to think about “persnickety” Mr. Portly's reaction. Given what Mrs. Portly reveals in her anxious conversations with Snack, it doesn't look promising: “Don't bark before Mr. Portly wakes up,” Mrs. Portly tells Snack, as Davenier (Just Like a Baby) shows a worried look on both sides of the conversation. “Don't get hair on Mr. Portly's suits. And never, ever put so much as a paw in the living room.” The more the idyllic relationship between mistress and pet deepens, the more readers may suspect it might be better if Mr. Portly never returned from his fishing trip. Have no fear: the resolution is indeed happy for all concerned, and Davenier's customarily luminous watercolors keep the action from straying too far into Updike/Cheever territory. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

“12:00 Lunch, 1:15 Nap, 2:25 Playground...” read Mama's instructions, posted to the fridge. But when three children spend the afternoon with Nana, the schedule is forgotten. No TV for them: it's stories (“Fairies, dragons everywhere./ Creepy things under the stairs”), potato sack races, dancing to music from a record player and making “peeny butter fudge” (recipe included). The only moment of doubt occurs when Mama comes home to find three fudge-splattered children and a wreck of a kitchen. But the smell of fudge triggers a mental photograph of Mama making fudge as a child (“My mother taught me,” Nana tells the children, “and I taught yours”), and the story ends with a hug. Cepeda's (Mice and Beans) smudgy, intensely colored paintings keep the action moving and convey a house overflowing with warmth. The Morrisons' (The Book of Mean People) slant rhyme text is occasionally slapdash (“Peeny butter, peeny butter/ Nana is the best grandmother”), but versifying rules are for grownups. This is a vision of family life that many kids, rushed from soccer practice to violin lessons, will regard with envy. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

Each year, before the High Holy Days, the saintly rabbi in the Ukrainian town of Nemirov disappears. His congregation is convinced that he literally ascends to heaven to plead their case before God. But a skeptic discovers the truth, and it has nothing to do with miracles, and everything to do with being a mensch. Drawn from Peretz's opus, this tale will probably be an old acquaintance to frequenters of youth Shabbat services. But Kimmel (The Mysterious Guests: A Sukkot Story) and Weber (Maple Syrup Season) make it fresh again. Kimmel's wise, reassuring voice embellishes the story with wonderful details (to ready for his journey, the rabbi dresses in “a linen blouse and trousers, tall boots, a wide leather belt, a long woolen coat, and a greasy sheepskin cap”), while keeping the narrative taut. And as usual, Kimmel brings out the best in his collaborators: without veering into false sentimentality or Fiddler on the Roof stereotypes, Weber's colorful, openhearted drawings immerse readers in a lost world where piety defined life and the quest for truth was the biggest adventure of all. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

“Different can be wonderful and beautiful,” gushes an author's note on the back of this cumbersome story starring an oversize, bright-green hippopotamus who is born into a family of gray hippos that travel with a circus. When the circus owner pronounces Greenie “too big, too green, and just too different” for the circus, the hippo heads for New York City in the hopes of finding other green hippos and fitting in. Though he's sad when children at a Central Park playground also dismiss him as different and call him a monster, Greenie is finally befriended by an accepting boy named Charlie who “had never seen anyone as beautiful,” announcing, “Of course you're not a monster.... That's the silliest thing I've ever heard. You just look different, that's all.” There's nothing subtle about Steel's (the Max and Martha series) belabored narrative or Spengler's (Animal Strike at the Zoo. It's True!) brash illustrations, dominated by electric primary colors. The heavy-handed message is impossible to miss. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

Through bilingual commentaries on 13 of Rivera's paintings, the artist's daughter provides an anecdotal portrait of her childhood with her father. All of the works feature children and will give readers a sense of Rivera's range as an artist. Several are portraits of the author, and they frequently depict domestic scenarios and Mexican traditions. One novel inclusion is Rivera's cover illustration for the book Fermín (“The story of Fermín was very important to my father. He wanted to show that all children, even those who grow up with very little, can become leaders”); another is a mural he created for the Secretariat of Public Education in Mexico, which portrays conditions that presaged the Mexican Revolution. The visual showstopper, however, is the detail from Rivera's sprawling mural, “Sueño de una tarde dominical en la Alameda,” on the endpapers, a surreal vision of city life that features a cameo by the artist as a boy, a frog and snake peeking out from his pockets. The personalities of father and daughter alike, as well as the vibrancy of Mexican culture, shine brightly in this personal, insightful book. Ages 6–up. (Sept.)

In the first book in the Nathan Abercrombie, Accidental Zombie series, fifth-grader Nathan knows what it's like to be an outcast: he sits at the Second Besters table at school with kids who “score somewhere around minus two on a popularity scale of one to ten.” Then, he is doused with “Hurt-Be-Gone, the world's first all-natural, totally safe emotion killer,” which turns him into an almost-zombie. Unable to sleep or feel pain, Nathan masters the toughest video game on the market and leads his school to a track meet victory by doing hundreds of pull-ups. Lubar (True Talents) entertains with a “Wouldn't it be cool if...” kind of story that kids often try to write and especially love to read. Gross-out moments abound, such as when Nathan gets a fork stuck in his nose and later watches as his thumb pops off and is almost eaten by a dog. The over-the-top narrative will appeal to readers who like their humor twisted, and might even have some wishing that they, too, could be a half-dead zombie. Maybe. Ages 8–12. (Aug.)

Feinstein's fourth mystery starring teen reporters Stevie Thomas and Susan Carol Anderson veers into fantasy—the Washington Nationals (currently with the worst record in Major League Baseball) are in the 2009 World Series. As in the previous books, the play on the field serves as backdrop for Stevie and Susan's adventures in journalism. This time, they stumble into an investigation of a journeyman pitcher, Norbert Doyle, who is starting game two against the Red Sox without ever having recorded a major league win. Before his meteoric rise, the career minor leaguer sat for an interview with Stevie and Susan, during which he revealed a tragic incident from his past. But now that Doyle is the story, his version of events is falling apart. Relying more on luck than shoe leather, the junior sleuths unravel a convoluted tale involving charges of marital infidelity, drunk driving and corrupt police. Sports fans will enjoy all the trivia Feinstein works into the narrative, but his habit of having real-life sports stars make cameo appearances can be problematic—three of the Nats mentioned by Feinstein are already gone, including manager Manny Acta, who was fired in July. Ages 10–up. (Aug.)

Drawn from Pellegrino's work with Central American refugees, this dramatic novel opens in 1984, during the violent conflict between indigenous Guatemalans and the government, which (an author's note explains) resulted in the death of some 150,000 people and the destruction of hundreds of villages. More than 200,000 fled Guatemala, including narrator Tomasa, her father and two younger siblings, whose village burns as they escape. At once lyrical and starkly realistic, the tale chronicles this close-knit family's harrowing, furtive journey across their country, through Mexico and finally into the U.S. In the final stages, they are aided by Sanctuary Movement volunteers who shepherd refugees to safety. In Phoenix, the travelers have an emotional reunion with Tomasa's mother and older brother, Carlos, who both fled earlier, fearing Carlos would be forced to join the army. Fables Papa tells his children and Tomasa's dream sequences occasionally cause the pace to slacken, and Pellegrino's (Too Nice) imagery can be clunky (“The quiet in our village relaxes like a taut thread which has been cut”). Yet Tomasa's voice should easily draw readers into this eye-opening story. Ages 11–14. (Aug.)

Launching a planned four-book series, Westerfeld (the Uglies series) explores an alternate 1914 divided between Darwinists, who advocate advanced biotechnology, and Clankers, masters of retrofuturistic mechanical engineering. Austria-Hungary's Prince Aleksandar is whisked away into the night by trusted advisers; he soon learns that his parents, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and Countess Sophie, have been murdered and that he has been targeted by prowar Germans. Half a continent away, Deryn Sharp successfully passes as a young man to join the British Air Service; her bravery during a catastrophic first flight aboard a genetically enhanced jellyfish (“The creatures' fishy guts could survive almost any fall, but their human passengers were rarely so lucky”) earns Deryn a post on the living airship Leviathan. The fortunes of war lead Aleksandar and Deryn to the Swiss Alps, where they must cooperate or face destruction at the hands of the Germans. The protagonists' stories are equally gripping and keep the story moving, and Thompson's detail-rich panels bring Westerfeld's unusual creations to life. The author's fully realized world has an inventive lexicon to match—readers will be eager for the sequels. Ages 12–up. (Oct.)

In this suspenseful psychological thriller, 18-year-old Matt Duffy, a private with memory problems following a traumatic brain injury, receives the Purple Heart in Iraq and gradually unravels the contradictory events that led to the honor. McCormick (Sold) sharply draws the culture of the Green Zone hospital, the camaraderie of the enlisted men and (via phone calls and letters) the gulf between life at home versus on the front. Friendship, bravado and juvenile antics counteract the soldiers' guilt, paranoia and unease around Iraqis (“ 'Enemy' was the official term. 'Insurgents' was okay, too. Everybody called them hajis, though”). Strong characters heighten the drama, especially likable Matt, but also the sympathetic hospital psychiatrist who balances complicated allegiances and legal obligations, and flinty Charlene, the sole female member of Matt's squad. As Matt remembers more and more, tension builds and he becomes confused about interpretations of the truth (and when to reveal them) within the chain of command. McCormick raises moral questions without judgment and will have readers examining not only this conflict but the nature of heroism and war. Ages 12–up. (Sept.)

Kraus's stark debut never quite feels completely comfortable in its own skin, but still delivers a moving story and points to a huge amount of potential for the author. When the summer begins with two accidents in which children are hit by a truck—one is killed and the other loses his arm—a curfew is imposed in Kraus's unnamed town. Determined to enjoy themselves, three 12-year-olds—Reggie, James and Willie (the maimed first victim of the mysterious driver)—go on adventures including breaking into school, stealing the skeletal “monster” an older boy keeps in his barn and investigating the school bully's possible ties to the killer. The bully, Mel, is easily the most intriguing character, volatile and socially inept, but also brilliant and artistic. Kraus meshes the uncertainty of adolescence with the dangerous knowledge of an adult world in which people have affairs and kill children—the boys' growing awareness of this world is the true horror. An unnecessary framing sequence and the general absence of girls (even as objects of the boys' attention) undermine the book's intensity, but the tragic ending is still powerful. Ages 12–up. (Aug.)

Shields, author of the Mermaid S.O.S. series, takes a gothic turn in this absorbing romance. Upon her beloved grandmother's hospitalization, 16-year-old Evie is sent to one of England's most prestigious boarding schools, the Wyldcliffe Abbey School for Young Ladies, located amid gloomy moors (“Towers and battlements jutted up crazily to the sky.... It was as though I had blundered back into a bygone age”). Despite a meandering beginning, the story accelerates with the interlaced historical narrative of Lady Agnes, whose family built the abbey that has become the school. Evie's scholarship and the required chores that accompany it isolate her from her rich, snotty classmates, but life seems to improve when she meets the alluring Sebastian. Odd visions and fainting spells begin to plague Evie, and further investigation uncovers the dark truth about Sebastian. As Evie explores Wyldcliffe's twisted history, she navigates questions about love, life and betrayal. Though the ending is tinged with a modern girl-power supernatural twist, the fresh take on classic ghostly romances will leave readers hungry for more. Ages 12–up. (Aug.)

Readers will get chills paging through Larbalestier's (How to Ditch Your Fairy) suspenseful novel about a compulsive liar who becomes a suspect in her boyfriend's murder. Micah admits it is hard to believe a girl who has pretended “she's a boy, a hermaphrodite, or that her daddy's an arms dealer,” but when Zach, the popular boy who was secretly seeing her “after hours,” is found dead, Micah claims innocence, promising to tell readers her story with “No lies, no omissions.” But the supernatural tale she tells may be her wildest yet. Micah composes her story in short sections labeled “Before” and “After” (the murder), as well as “History of Me,” “Family History” and other categories. This is a well-paced novel with a masterfully constructed unreliable narrator, confessing to lies she has told readers along the way (“You buy everything, don't you? You make it too easy”) and explaining how she makes lies believable. Could Micah really be innocent, or is she a confused girl who killed out of jealousy? Is she even human? Readers will be guessing and theorizing long after they've finished this gripping story. Ages 14–up. (Oct.)

Aliya, Gillian and Miya have specific reasons for wanting to make contact with the spirit of Trevor, a boy killed in a car accident. Aliya, his “secret” girlfriend, wants to say good-bye; Gillian wants to find out the whereabouts of money owed her; and Miya needs to make amends for harsh words spoken to Trevor shortly before his death. Connected by their common desire and pooling their knowledge of various forms of magic, the girls hold two séances that have shocking consequences. Those interested in the occult will likely be drawn to this novel, but the execution of this eerie story has mixed results. A convoluted subplot pertaining to Trevor's involvement in a dating service comes off as strained, and the female protagonists perhaps too pointedly represent three different ethnic groups, belief systems and branches of spiritualism (Islamic, Caribbean, Japanese). On the upside, Jolin (In the Name of God) gives each of the girls compelling internal conflicts, and her provocative open ending will leave readers debating just how successful the girls are in their attempt to bring Trevor back from the dead.Ages14–up. (Aug.)

A handful of new titles explores simple concepts such as opposites, numbers and the alphabet.

Zuckerman's striking animal photographs are put to excellent use in this book—part abecedarian, part guessing game. Each letter is given two spreads. The first shows the letter in upper and lower case next to an animal; the second reveals the animal's name and offers a different view of the creature. Some touches are especially clever: a kangaroo and a lion seem to stare at each other during an interlude between K and L, and while the rest of the book features stark white backgrounds, the letter N is shown against black—a page turn uncovers a group of nocturnal animals. All ages. (Sept.)

Using flaps and textures, Yoon's smart counting book also introduces some common animals and emphasizes asking questions. The book's title serves as its opening line, appearing opposite a number one imbued with sufficient elephantine characteristics (a stumpy trunk, gray skin and broad ear) to clue readers in to what animal waits behind the flap. Two flocked cows and six chickens with foil combs feature on subsequent flaps, as questions and answers (“Which dinosaur is the closest relative of the chicken? The Tyrannosaurus Rex!”) lend added interest throughout. Ages 1–4. (Oct.)

Cabrera's (Old MacDonald Had a Farm) version of this familiar schoolyard song takes readers all the way up through the number 20, as her rabbit heroine helps some animals get ready for a big party. Though the rhymes are occasionally a stretch (“15, 16, in the kitchen”),the lively images, thick with paint strokes, create a cheerful atmosphere. Additionally, the opening challenge to find four small chicks on each spread will keep readers entertained as they read along. Ages 2–5. (Sept.)

This book about opposites, which introduces a quirky cast of bug-eyed cats, asks readers to supply missing words to complete rhyming sequences (“This cat is dirty/ This cat is clean/ This cat is nice/ This cat is...”). There are some odd juxtapositions and several of the felines have decidedly off-putting appearances, including a “bad” cat with flames blasting out of its ears. But the rhyme schemes and artwork make the missing words clear on each spread, and kids should enjoy filling (or shouting) in the answers. Ages 2–5. (Aug.)

This bilingual companion to the alphabet book ABeCedarios also features images of Oaxacan sculptures (albeit from a different group of artists), but instead focuses on opposites. Wood statues of various animals face each other on each spread, colored with bright spots and stripes and set against equally vivid backgrounds. In a nod to Aesop, an orange hare (“Fast / Rápido”) is seen across from a turtle (“Slow / Lenta”), while a spotted dog and a black wolf both sit beside chalky images of the sun and moon to demonstrate day and night. Direct and charming. Ages 2–5. (Aug.)

Part of the Math Is Fun! series, this intro to telling time has a familiar beginning (“Hickory dickory dock,/ a mouse ran up the clock”), but things soon take a dramatic turn. When the clock strikes two, a farm cat awakens and pursues the mouse, and additional barnyard animals (as well as a family of farmers) join the chase each hour. Just when things have calmed down (“Hickory dickory dell,/ by midnight, all was well”), the clock strikes one once more, and it looks like the chase may begin again. A concluding note offers some time-telling basics. Ages 5–8. (Sept.)