BEATRICE WAS A TREE

As Beatrice stalls her bedtime, readers learn rudimentary facts about trees.

In the opening double-page spread, the titular girl, clad in overalls, hangs upside down from a tree branch. Purplish hair hangs beneath her pale, oversized face; her blue-gray irises point across the page’s gutter. Beatrice is surrounded by a nighttime scene: stars in the dark blue sky, a yellow crescent moon hanging over a lit-from-within house in the recto’s background. In white capital letters, a sound balloon from the house exhorts, “Beatrice, time for bed!” After the page turn, Beatrice is on the ground, her disgruntled facial expression and body language humorously familiar to all. She mutters that if she were a tree, she could “stay outside all night long.” In the next double-page spread, her expression changes to wonder as she imagines herself sprouting twigs and leaves. Soon, she is fantasizing about her life as a tree, first into the next day and then through the seasons. Her face cleverly fades into a tree’s overstory as the pages of colorful artwork—punctuated with short bursts of text and plenty of endearing animals—move toward the inevitable conclusion to her fantasy. After Beatrice’s second warning, her expression is again fun to behold, and a hint of subversion in the final, wordless page adds satisfaction. Additional pages contribute a few more botanical facts, but the story itself naturally segues into naptime or bedtime. Bonus: endpapers with labeled leaves. (This book was reviewed digitally with 10.5-by-18-inch double-page spreads viewed at actual size.)

Appealing arboreal fantasy.