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CLAUDIA & MOTH

Not a must.

Sometimes only a butterfly will do.

Claudia single-mindedly loves butterflies. She reclines in her room—a thin, smiling white girl in a summery dress—looking up at mobiles of paper butterflies that she cut out herself. Her mother won’t let her bring home a live butterfly from the park, but her father gives her a paint box, and she paints huge, poster-size butterfly portraits. When winter arrives, she despairs: “there was truly nothing left to paint.” Making butterflies in the snow in the park with her pet dog doesn’t compensate. The emergence of a moth from her sweater drawer perks her up, but he’s not quite a butterfly, so she paints him—literally paints his wings to resemble a butterfly’s. When he escapes out the window seeking a streetlight, she’s crushed. She “burst[s] out of the apartment” and recaptures him in the nighttime snow (not exactly plausible, but then neither was painting his wings), finally willing to paint him as the proper moth he is—a portrait, this time. From spot illustrations to full-bleed spreads, Rolli paints in oil on brown paper. At the park in summertime, the brown background feels seasonally off; it’s fine for autumn, but overall, this brown paper feels too earthbound—almost claustrophobic—for an homage to creatures that flutter through the air.

Not a must. (Picture book. 3-5)

Pub Date: Nov. 7, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-425-28833-7

Page Count: 40

Publisher: Viking

Review Posted Online: Aug. 26, 2017

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2017

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I NEED A HUG

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

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GOOD NIGHT OWL

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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