Doesn’t quite jell but worthwhile reading nevertheless.
In a simple tale based on Rachel Carson’s writings, the naturalist takes her great-nephew on a walk that reinforces the better parts of his emerging selfhood.
The story begins by stating that it is bedtime in Rachel’s cabin in the woods and a thunderstorm is brewing. On the next double-page spread, a little boy named Roger, dressed in Godzilla PJs, plays monster with a woman named Rachel whose relationship to him is explained only in the backmatter. Roger is scared when the lights go out—although he will not admit it—and he is rude to Rachel when she tries to comfort him. Throughout the book, Roger’s all-too-human, childish behavior swings rapidly through phases of obstreperousness, fright, and tenderness while Rachel’s attitude and speech unwaveringly resemble the wise woman of fairy tales. Her didacticism works for any age of reader when she is discussing luminescent ocean life but not so well when she reminds Roger he loves and protects the wilderness. After the storm, Rachel and Roger walk through woods to the sea. Here the text is lovely and lyrical. The climax comes when Roger discovers a struggling firefly in the seafoam and Rachel helps him rescue it. The tale is slightly long for a bedtime read-aloud, making it apt for slightly older preschoolers. When illustrating natural phenomena, the art—like the text—is magical. The human depictions are sometimes awkward.
Doesn’t quite jell but worthwhile reading nevertheless. (biographical note, science note, further reading) (Picture book. 3-5)Pub Date: Sept. 15, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-5247-0147-5
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Schwartz & Wade/Random
Review Posted Online: May 16, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2020
This is a tremendously moving story, but some people will be moved only on the second reading, after they’ve Googled “How to...
A hug shouldn’t require an instruction manual—but some do.
A porcupine can frighten even the largest animal. In this picture book, a bear and a deer, along with a small rabbit, each run away when they hear eight simple words and their name: “I need a hug. Will you cuddle me,…?” As they flee, each utters a definitive refusal that rhymes with their name. The repetitive structure gives Blabey plenty of opportunities for humor, because every animal responds to the question with an outlandish, pop-eyed expression of panic. But the understated moments are even funnier. Each animal takes a moment to think over the request, and the drawings are nuanced enough that readers can see the creatures react with slowly building anxiety or, sometimes, a glassy stare. These silent reaction shots not only show exquisite comic timing, but they make the rhymes in the text feel pleasingly subtle by delaying the final line in each stanza. The story is a sort of fable about tolerance. It turns out that a porcupine can give a perfectly adequate hug when its quills are flat and relaxed, but no one stays around long enough to find out except for an animal that has its own experiences with intolerance: a snake. It’s an apt, touching moral, but the climax may confuse some readers as they try to figure out the precise mechanics of the embrace.
This is a tremendously moving story, but some people will be moved only on the second reading, after they’ve Googled “How to pet a porcupine.” (Picture book. 3-5)Pub Date: Jan. 29, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-338-29710-2
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Scholastic
Review Posted Online: Sept. 29, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2018
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A funny tale about stress and an ever upping ante, with a comforting end.
Something is preventing Owl from falling asleep.
Owl leans back against his white pillow and headboard. “Squeek!” says something underneath the bed. Owl’s never heard that sound before, so he fastens his pink bathrobe and answers the front door. Nobody. It must be the wind; back to bed. Bidding himself goodnight, he climbs into bed—and hears the noise again. Time after time, he pops out of bed seeking the squeaker. Is it in the cupboard? He empties the shelves. Under the floor? He pulls up his floorboards. As Owl’s actions ratchet up—he destroys the roof and smashes the walls, all in search of the squeak—so does his anxiety. Not until he hunkers down in bed under the night sky (his bed is now outdoors, because the house’s roof and walls are gone), frantically clutching his pillow, does he see what readers have seen all along: a small, gray mouse. In simple illustrations with black outlines, textured coloring, and foreshortened perspective, Pizzoli plays mischievously with mouse placement. Sometimes the mouse is behind Owl or just out of his sightline; other times, the mouse is on a solid, orange-colored page across the spread from Owl, which removes him from Owl’s scene in a rather postmodern manner. Is the mouse toying with Owl? Who knows?
A funny tale about stress and an ever upping ante, with a comforting end. (Picture book. 3-5)Pub Date: April 19, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-4847-1275-7
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Disney-Hyperion
Review Posted Online: Jan. 19, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2016
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