Children's Book Reviews: 9/7/2009

The crayoned illustrations of debuting talent Lord are a terrific match for Waddell's (Bee Frog) effortless channeling of a very young storyteller. A boy named Hal and his dog, Billy, are playing in the backyard when a huge T-Rex crashes through the fence (“ 'I'm hungry and I've come to eat you!' roared the Super Hungry Dinosaur”). How Hal brings the Super Hungry Dinosaur to heel—and teaches him that Mom's spaghetti and meatballs are far more satisfying than eating humans or pets—is told, as a child would, through the simple accumulation of over-the-top events, brisk dialogue and lots of evocative sound effects (“Grrrrrrr!” “Slurp!” “Burp!”). Taking her cue from children's drawings, Lord maintains a single, stage-like perspective, frequently breaking up the action into sequential strips (a chase scene involving a clothesline, trampoline and garden hose takes up several pages). She also pares down details, giving the pictures a distilled comic urgency. Her obvious glee at drawing the green, ravenous dinosaur is infectious and should inspire readers to grab their own box of crayons. Ages 3–5. (Sept.)

This genial if cutesy adaptation of the authors' bestselling Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World gets an energetic boost from James's digitally rendered art. Animal-loving readers will be charmed by the realistic, closeup depictions of young library patrons and their tender (and sometimes not-so-tender) interactions with Dewey, who is based on a real-life feline adopted by Myron after it was abandoned in the book drop of her Iowa library. The narrative becomes overly precious, though, when it ventures inside Dewey's head: “ 'Babies are wonderful,' Dewey thought. “Cute and SMELL-icious, too.” And as he joins story hour he thinks, “Wowzy whiskers, this looks fun.” Despite being manhandled by some young patrons, the cat confides to his toy mouse that he is determined to help people (“I'm ninety-two percent convinced that that's the reason I'm around”) and makes good on his promise by cheering up a sad girl who's reading alone. He then proclaims himself a “REAL library cat,” which (the story concludes, on a well-worn note) “felt... purr-fect!” Ages 3–6. (Sept.)

Fu, a rebellious Chinese farm boy, accidentally provokes the warrior Chang, who challenges him to a duel. With one night to prepare, Fu seeks tutelage from a silver-bearded Master, but the training takes a surreal turn when the Master instructs Fu not in swordplay but in how to pour tea. The Master's neck stretches toward Fu like the body of a serpent as he says, “Just as bamboo grows upward to meet the sun's rays, you too must have purpose when pouring tea.” Fu finds himself rowing downstream on a tea leaf; later he appears inside a teapot, looking up at a gigantic Master. “This is crazy,” thinks Fu, but his magical lessons, which teach him the virtue of mental focus, enable him to face Chang armed only with a tea set. Rocco (Wolf! Wolf!) paints rice paddies and jagged mountains with a palette of hazy yellow-greens and browns, using panels and dramatic perspectives to cinematic effect. While the intricacies of the tea ceremony may be unfamiliar to readers, Rocco's prose is concise and he has a wealth of ways to convey information visually in this off-beat tale. Ages 3–7. (Sept.)

Donaldson and Scheffler, the team behind Room on the Broom and The Gruffalo, find a roundabout route to Christmas in this bouncy tale. Stick Man is just that, a brown stick with twig arms and branch legs. His story is delivered in perfect meter: “Stick Man lives in the family tree/ With his Stick Lady Love and their stick children three.” One spring day, Stick Man unwillingly joins a dog's game of fetch, is sent downstream by children and woven into a swan's nest. As the seasons change, Stick Man travels farther from home, futilely protesting (in vehement Green Eggs and Ham style), “I'm not a mast for a silly old flag,/ Or a sword for a knight... or a hook for a bag.” In his darkest hour, he nearly becomes kindling, only to have Santa arrive down the chimney. Donaldson and Scheffler's poignant, suspenseful profile of an inanimate object recalls Laurie Keller or The Velveteen Rabbit. Donaldson's rhymes never skip a beat, and Scheffler personalizes the many animals, people and settings in his witty watercolors. This yarn could become a December perennial. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

Kimmelman's (Everybody Bonjours!) picture-book biography of Teddy Roosevelt's daughter is as much about her father's accomplishments as it is about Alice's unruly behavior. The conversational narrative emphasizes that soldier, diplomat and politician Roosevelt “could handle almost anything,” be it governing the U.S. or international diplomacy. “But,” reads the book's repeated refrain, “Teddy Roosevelt didn't always know how to handle his oldest daughter, Alice,” who is shown jumping on the sofa, riding a pig and driving a speeding automobile. Speech balloons present Roosevelt's repeated admonishments of his rambunctious offspring, and the typeface is sometimes creatively arranged, as when it snakes across the page in a passage about Alice's pet snake. Gustavson (The Yankee at the Seder) adeptly captures the young woman's shenanigans—and her irrepressible spirit—in lifelike oil paintings that range from spot art to full-spread scenes and include some inventive perspectives. One scene shows her happily perched on a rooftop with a teacup and umbrella, and a view from above later spotlights the havoc the escaped snake creates in the White House. A lively, fictionalized portrait of a very independent girl. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

In this latest story to feature Elmer “the patchwork elephant,” McKee subtly instructs readers on the making and keeping of friends. Deep in the jungle, the elephants are preparing for Elmer's Day, painting their hides in kaleidoscopic patterns (Elmer, in contrast, rolls around in brownish-gray “elephant-colored” berries “until he looked just like an ordinary elephant”). Although Elmer's Day sounds self-indulgent, the herd is enthusiastic—so enthusiastic that a lion, tiger, giraffe and other animals request peace and quiet. The jubilant elephants promise to hush, but like excited children, they can't help getting louder. Elmer solves the problem very simply: he invites all the animals to participate. Soon, “the other animals were just as messy and noisy as the elephants,” and they even wear elephant masks to participate in the elephant parade. McKee illustrates in a loose, folk-art style. Elmer visually clashes with the foliage and his friends, and the whole enterprise exudes cheery, unassuming goodwill. The elephants' nonexclusive event provides a model for any peaceable kingdom. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

A green, sharp-clawed goblin who has exiled himself from society reveals his warm heart when he stumbles upon a farmer whose grief has overcome his will to work. The goblin waits for night, then pitches in: “He dug where digging was needed. He chopped where chopping was needed.” Sturdy ink and watercolor drawings by the Caldecott Medalists recall pages in a medieval book of hours, a thin panel along the top showing a sequence of actions, while the main panel captures a single instant. The goblin cares tenderly for the farmer's wife and child, too, trying unsuccessfully to serve without being discovered. Gathered at their table, the family sits “staring at the chair that had been empty all winter,” then sets food there for the goblin, who watches fearfully from outside. Readers will understand that the family is bereaved, and that just as the goblin provided each family member with what they needed, they are doing the same for him. Acceptance and healing are less common picture book themes; Fox (Time for Bed) handles them with particular grace. Ages 5–8. (Sept.)

When Terry, a young Irishman, is wakened by the sound of wailing outside, he's worried that a banshee (the Gaelic omen of death) is coming for his frail brother, Liam. Reasoning that even a ghost may be open to a bribe, Terry ventures into the backyard with his “best thing,” a prized peacock feather: “I'd give it to her. Then I'd ask her to go away and leave our family be.” Bunting's evocative prose (“It's December in Ireland. Cold. The linoleum is ice under my feet”) and McCully's moody nocturnal scenes, lit by harsh moonlight, make Terry's fears and ruminations vivid. And all the pieces of a ghost story are there: a remote, dead-of-night setting in a land well-known for magic; the sense of isolation that fear can trigger; eerie backstories and details (a banshee, readers learn, wears “a long black robe, like a nun's, only hers was made of cobwebs”). But these elements don't quite coalesce into a genuine chill. Ultimately, it feels like Bunting and McCully (who previously teamed up for That's What Leprechauns Do) want to reassure readers rather than leave them with goose bumps. Ages 5–8. (Sept.)

Rich watercolors and as-it-happens writing bring the story of India's royal elephants into sharp focus. On the Lewins' (Gorilla Walk) first trip to India, they hear about Drona, a beloved elephant chosen to head the parade of a religious festival. When they meet Drona face-to-face, they agree: “He is magnificent. We feel his aura strongly.” But between their first trip and their second, Drona is killed in an accident, and the focus shifts to Balarama, the newly chosen lead elephant. How will Balarama cope with the noise and the crowds? The Lewins' watercolor spreads emphasize India's brilliant light, deep purple shadows and the way the elephants dwarf their human handlers. They are honest about the cruelty of past capture methods, but include anecdotes to offset the story's sober moments (as when Drona tips over a truck carrying bananas “and ate all but one case”). Loose sketchbook spots appear intermittently, which will either provide light relief or distract from the more ambitious and realistic spreads. Still, for a clear view of a tradition dating back centuries, it's a valuable contribution. Ages 6–11. (Sept.)

“My name is Constance. I am locked up in an evil mansion,” the narrator begins, but the illustrations tell a very different tale: the “evil mansion” is her family's charming, ivy-covered cottage with a swimming pool. Humorous disparity between the text and illustrations forms the linchpin of this wry French import. The histrionic narrator, Constance, complains of her wretched life with her parents who “are terrible people—unfair and mean,” yet they are shown bestowing gifts and generally kowtowing to this diminutive terror. Her “sweet and gentle” cat, Tiny, is huge and as ill-behaved as his owner. While the plot is slight—Constance and Tiny run away, only to be returned by bandits, aka kindly police—the pleasure lies in the naughty ironies. Héliot's (Piano Piano) line drawings are elegant and employ a restrained palette of black, white, gray and red. Charles Addamsesque gothic touches add a cautionary flair: Constance's red-ringed eyes have an evil, zombielike look, while Tiny's ears evoke the sharp angularity of devil's horns. Also out in September: Constance and the Great Escape. Ages 7–up. (Sept.)

While Ruelle admits in her afterword that “many of the details of this story are destined to remain forever uncertain,” she and DeSaix (who also collaborated on Hidden on the Mountain) have pieced together a fascinating history of how the North African Muslim community of Paris and the Grand Mosque secretly harbored Jews and others after the Nazi invasion (“It was... an oasis hidden behind high walls right in the middle of the city”). The story isn't always easy to follow—it is by necessity episodic—though Ruelle and DeSaix provide ample detail and explanation, as moody oils provide the emotional and narrative ballast. Working mostly in double-page spreads, she masterfully conveys how the compound's serene, exotic interiors offered reassurance during desperate times. In one of the most striking images, a Jewish girl stands solemnly in front of one of the mosque's elaborately tiled walls; it's as if the mosaic's beauty and scale had a talismanic power, capable of warding off an otherwise horrible fate. Ages 8–up. (Sept.)

In the second early chapter book starring this perennial sourpuss, Bad Kitty's day starts off with a special alphabetical “Birthday Breakfast” that includes Aardvark Bagels, Clam Doughnuts and Eel Fritters. Each chapter focuses on a different part of the day's festivities (Bad Kitty is excited about the prospect of presents, but less so about looking through an old photo album and decorating the house). Eventually, some aptly named guests such as Strange Kitty, Chatty Kitty and Stinky Kitty arrive, and the story becomes a whodunit when Bad Kitty's presents vanish and the prime suspect ends up being the lovable slow-wit, Puppy. The appearance of Bad Kitty's Mama, who sports a pearl necklace and a vacuous expression, offers—briefly—a softer side of the feline. Bruel has fun with the format, using footnotes, different font sizes, comedic/informative interludes about cat behavior (“Uncle Murray's Fun Facts”) and lengthy side stories that take place in corner panels to add to the story's freewheeling atmosphere. But as usual, it's Bad Kitty's unapologetic, curmudgeon nature that delivers the laugh-out-loud funny. Ages 7–10. (Sept.)

Readers are returned to the Renaissance city of Pergamontio in this funny, lightweight mystery, set before the events of Avi's Midnight Magic, with 10-year-old Fabrizio having just begun serving Mangus the Magician. When hundreds of neatly printed handbills proclaiming “The kingdom needs a strong ruler! Establish true authority! Do not fear a change!” mysteriously appear, the superstitious King Claudio and his pompous “Primo Magistrato” DeLaBina believe it's the devil's work (Claudio and DeLaBina have “been successful in keeping Pergamontio free of all modern ideas, technologies, and heresies”). Mangus is accused of creating the fliers with black magic, and is placed under arrest and threatened with death. But when DeLaBina is murdered, it's up to the Sancho Panza–like Fabrizio and his new friend, the printer's devil Maria, to discover which of Pergamontio's scheming nobles is responsible for all of the skullduggery. Combining action, silliness and enough step-by-step explanations to help readers figure out the mystery, this enjoyable historical tale should appeal to the author's many younger fans and send them off to read—or reread—Midnight Magic. Ages 8–12. (Sept.)

After her mother dies of AIDS, 13-year-old Emmy is left to grapple with the virus her mother unknowingly passed on to her through pregnancy. When Emmy acts out, her father and his second wife, who are expecting their first child, send her to sleepaway “Camp Positive,” for HIV-positive girls. Despite her reluctance, Emmy begins to find solace with girls who face similar obstacles, but a friend leaving camp because of declining health, sparks stark realizations: “You couldn't ever get away from AIDS, ever. You couldn't ever change anything.” Emmy's most transformative moment—a conversation with a camp counselor who tells her, “I'm not saying this disease is easy. It's not easy at all. And I can't explain everything that happened, except to say that life is weird”—leads to a convincing baby step toward Emmy finding peace. Sheinmel (My So-Called Family), who reviews for PW, occasionally crosses into political territory, but Emmy's plainspoken narration and reflections on the loss of her mother and her illness (“People had to be nice to me because I was the one with the saddest life”) are wrenchingly authentic and quietly powerful. Ages 9–14. (Sept.)

In this first book in the Century Quartet, Baccalario offers an uneven tale of four children discovering their crucial roles in an event of global proportions. When 12-year-old Elettra's father mixes up the reservations at her family's hotel in Rome, she is forced to share her room with Harvey, Sheng and Mistral (visiting from America, China and France, respectively), who all share the same birthday. After they inadvertently cause a blackout across Rome, the new friends head out into the city, where an encounter with a doomed old man lands them a briefcase full of clues, hints about their shared destiny and the attention of Mahler, a ruthless killer armed with a magical violin. As the children crisscross Rome to unravel the puzzle, they are fed information about the secret history of the world and the momentous events that they have been chosen to be part of. The children feel underdeveloped and have basically been reduced to the role of pawns of fate and of the adults who are manipulating them, but there are some genuinely exciting moments and the premise is intriguing. Ages 10–13. (Sept.)

In Higgins's witty “polyquel” to The Black Book of Secrets and The Bone Magician (it “contains elements from both stories as well as mysteries all of its own,” per her postscript), young Hector finds himself homeless and penniless after his father is blackmailed and disgraced. When his father dies of heartbreak, Hector seeks revenge against the man who ruined them. The titular villain, Gulliver Truepin, is not as gruesome as his nickname suggests: he's a one-eyed con artist who wants a fake eyeball—each with a different jewel at the center—for each day of the week. Through a series of coincidences, both characters end up at Withypitts Hall, under the cruel watch of Lady Mandible. As Hector plots vengeance and Truepin works out yet another scheme, they both get caught up in Mandible's own plotting, the assorted plans all colliding on the night of an extravagant feast. Higgins fills her book with deliciously nasty bits (Mandible paints using blood leeched from a servant), riddles and a Dickensian atmosphere that's both stark and delightful. Some familiar faces appear, but this story works beautifully on its own. Ages 10–14. (Sept.)

British author Hardinge's latest feat is a luminous example of gifted storytelling at its best. Set on Gullstruck, an enchanted island of dueling dormant volcanoes, lush jungles and warring tribes, two sisters in a shunned race of perpetually smiling Lace people possess a secret. Arilou, first in line to become the next Lady Lost (a hallowed figure with a propensity for out-of-body travel), shows no sign of being the mystic she is believed to be. Hathin, Arilou's official “translator” and unofficial guardian, attempts to hide their deceit at all costs. But when a Lost Inspector comes to town to authenticate Arilou's identity, their ruse—and the fate of the Lace people—is in danger. The detailed tale that unfolds is epic, but unlike some long-for-long's-sake snooze fests, this journey feels effortless and wholly satisfying. Deliciously complex yet easily digestible, Hardinge's (Well Witched) prose is what makes the reading so enjoyable (“While Arilou's name was meant to sound like the call of an owl... Hathin's name imitated the whisper of settling dust”). Every turn of phrase (like the book itself) is thick with poetry and meaning. Ages 10–up. (Sept.)

In this powerful, finely crafted novel, Paterson unveils the experience of Muslim Albanians in the Kosovo war through her memorable heroine, Meli, who turns 11 just as her family flees genocide. Through Meli's gaze, Paterson skillfully defines the culture of Kosovo, including the strictly defined gender roles, large extended families and social hierarchy that pits Serb against Albanian and looks down on families, like Meli's, from the countryside. News of the murder of 70 members of an Albanian family and the brief disappearance of Meli's 13-year-old brother, Mehmet, drive her family into exile: first in a mountain camp, then as refugees in Macedonia (“They might die, but they would at least die together,” thinks Meli as her family is crammed into a crowded train) and finally to the United States. Lest readers feel distanced from the prejudice at the heart of this story, after 9/11, Meli and Mehmet endure taunting based on their heritage. Spanning vast distances and several years, Paterson offers a realistic and provocative account of these refugees' plight, balanced by the hope of new beginnings and the resilience of the human spirit. Ages 10–up. (Oct.)

Celebrated New Zealand writer Gee (The Fire Raiser) returns to YA fantasy with this gritty, dystopian tale, the first volume in the Salt Trilogy. Hari lives in Blood Burrow, a hellacious, rat-infested slum. Long ago his dark-skinned people were conquered by Company (a fair-skinned, corporate society from across the ocean) and gradually forced into slavery (“Who joins Company joins history. Your time begins,” drones a clerk as new workers are branded with acid). Pearl is a pampered daughter of Company, her only purpose in life to be married off to cement one of her father's political alliances. When both young people, who share rare psychic gifts, revolt against their fates, they find themselves on a desperate journey across a hostile landscape, with the forces of Company at their heels. Later, as Company teeters on the brink of civil war, they must overcome their mutual distrust to save Hari's father from a horrific fate and destroy their enemy's deadly secret weapon. A compelling tale of anger and moral development that also powerfully explores the evils of colonialism and racism. Ages 12–up. (Oct.)

Written in screenplay format like his Printz Award–winning Monster, Myers's historical novel is set in 1863 New York City during the Civil War draft riots, which began as a protest against conscription and resulted in a clash between the city's Irish and African-American populations. The streets are no longer safe for 15-year-old Claire, whose parents (her father is black, her mother Irish) run the Peacock Inn restaurant/tavern. “I don't see why you have to be a black person or a white person,” Claire says, after being cautioned to stay inside. “Why can't you just be a person?” But when the Colored Orphan Asylum is looted and burned, Claire feels an obligation to help. Myers writes poignant dialogue, laying bare the prejudices of the period, while exploring Claire's emotional transition out of childhood. Stage directions (“CLOSE-UP of MAEVE. Her face is a picture of incredible anger as she screams at the POLICE”) pull readers into both the setting and characters, though the transitions between scenes are occasionally jarring. Readers should find this story moving—a direct result of Myers's empathetic portrayal of those on both sides. Ages 12–up. (Sept.)

Chadda's fast-paced debut introduces 15-year-old Billi SanGreal, who is drafted into the modern remnants of the once-great Knights Templar by her fanatical, emotionally distant father, leader of the order (“How was school?” he asks while she's still “covered in slimy gore” after an exorcism). Though skilled in weaponry and educated in obscure religious history, Billi is a poor fit for the Templars: the lone girl in an otherwise all-male organization, of Muslim extraction but surrounded by Christians and lacking the unblinking ruthlessness required by the eternal war between the Knights and the forces of darkness. Nonetheless, she finds herself standing between the Angel of Death, Michael, who has become blinded by imagined glories of enforced salvation, and the multitude of innocents Michael would happily slaughter in the name of God. Scenes of spiritual warfare are gripping (and often gruesome), as is the undercurrent of supernatural romance. Chadda offers an original take on familiar creatures like vampires, the undead and fallen angels, but it's Billi's personality and tumult of emotions that will keep readers hooked. A promising beginning to both this series and Chadda's career. Ages 13–up. (Sept.)

Four teens escape boarding school for a day when 17-year-old Destiny Faraday happens upon a pink convertible with the key in the ignition (conveniently, the glove box also contains a bundle of cash). These truants aren't out for a joyride: their quest is for a “fair day” in which everybody gets something they dearly deserve. Rather improbably, this is what happens. The coincidences involved in making this so push Pearson's (The Adoration of Jenna Fox) story in genre-bending ways. Is this a fantasy? A meditation on chance and coincidence? (“Can there be such a thing as a pattern to coincidence?” muses Destiny.) What keeps the pages turning while one's disbelief is in constant suspension is the mystery element—there's a dark secret lurking in Destiny's backstory that dribbles out as the day goes on. The big reveal is well orchestrated, but the way the story wraps up treats casually what readers will have learned is serious mental illness. Those willing to let that go will be carried along by the story's supernatural momentum and its affirming message about the redemptive power of friendship. Ages 14–up. (Sept.)

In this dark tale constructed as a journal by 12-year-old orphan Will Henry, Yancey (the Alfred Kropp series) presents the story of the boy's apprenticeship to an enigmatic 19th-century “monstrumologist,” Doctor Pellinore Warthrop. Purportedly found in 2007 amid the personal effects of the recently deceased Will (at age 131), the memoir opens as a corpse is delivered to Warthrop by a grave-robber one night in 1888. What appears to be a horrific desecration of the body foreshadows a plague of headless, man-eating anthropophagi. Will, left in the doctor's care since his parents' death, is drawn into the effort to save his town and find out how the creatures reached America, and both Will and Warthrop are forced to confront their own family histories and obsessions. Yancey's elegant depiction of an America plagued with monsters, human and otherwise, spares no grisly detail (in describing feeding anthropophagi: “The head is the most coveted prize. The first to reach her seizes it and wrenches it from her neck... a steaming geyser shoots into the air and paints crimson their teeming alabaster bodies”). Horror lovers will be rapt. Ages 14–up. (Sept.)

From recipes to food-for-thought, some fall picks.

Following Karmilowicz's My A to Z Recipe Box, this sturdy box contains 50 recipe cards with colored tabs for easy perusing. Among the offerings are main courses like Easiest Cheesiest Mac and Cheese and Veggie-licious Quesadillas, side dishes including Fruity Cheese Kabobs and healthful treats like zucchini cupcakes, all of which can be easily brought to school (tips on storage are also provided). The illustrated recipes are simple enough for kids to create with adult supervision, and the range of ideas should appeal to those tired of PB&J. Blank recipe cards are included for original creations. Ages 3–up. (Aug.)

With this book's basic approach to cooking, even the youngest chefs will be able to take part. Simple recipes include such crowd-pleasers as Buttermilk Power Pancakes, Skyscraper Sandwich and creamy mashed potato soup. Chick and Dee from chickaDEE magazine and a personable cast of cartoon friends create a playful atmosphere, as they appear in comic strips and interact with ingredients—a green monster assures readers that his “Grrr!” is “just my tummy! I'm a friendly monster!” The zany spirit of the cartoon personalities may contribute to a messy kitchen, but the diversity of recipes should lead to some happy eaters. Ages 6–12. (Oct.)

Paula Deen's second cookbook for kids organizes recipes according to occasions that might occur during the school year (a sleepover, a Christmas party). In addition to the recipes, Dean offers suggestions (“[a bake sale] is a great way to raise quick cash for a good cause”) and personal reflections (“Fondue parties were all the rage when I was much, much younger”), while sections on manners and cooking lessons include more tips. Clearly labeled ingredients and tools make the preparations comprehensible, and the illustrations of friends and family give the book an inviting feel. Ages 7–up. (Sept.)

This 13-year-old British author's guide to hosting a successful sleepover pairs creative food ideas with activity suggestions, amid photographs of the author and friends, as well as cartoons of girls sampling food and telling jokes. Recipes include “Pineapple and strawberry ice slushies” and “Pile-it-in-Pitta,” as well as ideas like “Tuna pasta mini pots” in the case of “bare cupboard” situations. With equal emphasis on food and fun and game suggestions both familiar (like Truth or Dare) and novel, this book should help get the party started. Ages 8–11. (July)

This youth-friendly version of Pollan's bestseller, with updated facts, assorted visuals and a new introduction and afterword, is as enlightening as it is accessible. The adaptation uses the same “four meal” format of the original book, as Pollan describes the impact of humans' heavy corn consumption, explores the organic food industry, takes part in the system of farming practiced at Polyface Farm and hunts mushrooms and wild pigs. Much of the appeal lies in Pollan's hands-on methods and sensitive articulations as he assists readers in navigating the complexities of the production and consumption of food. Conscientious readers will grasp the important lessons. Ages 10–up. (Oct.)

This joyful recipe book features fresh, healthful ingredients and encourages ambitious young chefs to collaborate on such mature dishes as Grape-and-Pignoli Breakfast Cake, Crunchy Wasabi-Lime Salmon with red cabbage and sugar snaps and orange-ginger sweet potato puree. Each recipe includes colorful photographs of teens selecting and preparing the foods, emphasizing the creative potential behind cooking with diverse flavors and the importance of using a natural cornucopia of fruits and vegetables in season (the “fresh” in the title is an acronym for farmer friendly, ripe-ready, easy-exciting, sustainable and honest-healthy). A prime pick for adventurous eaters and a potential catalyst for those in a junk food rut. Ages 12–up. (Oct.)