POKKO AND THE DRUM

Pokko’s parents give her a drum—biggest mistake ever—and she makes a thoroughgoing racket.

Her father suggests taking her drum outside. “But don’t make too much noise. We’re just a little frog family that lives in a mushroom, and we don’t like drawing attention to ourselves.” Pokko sets off quietly into the too-quiet forest. She taps her drum “just to keep herself company.” When a banjo-playing raccoon follows her, she plays louder. A trumpet-playing rabbit’s next, then a wolf, ostensibly there for the music. In a plot twist evocative of Jon Klassen, the wolf eats the rabbit, earning Pokko’s stern rebuke: “No more eating band members or you’re out of the band.” Soon, many animals—some making music, others enjoying it—are following Pokko. When her father calls her to dinner, he hears faint music, growing louder. The crowds sweep in, carrying off Pokko’s parents. (Comically, her mother’s still engrossed in the book she’s been reading throughout.) Her father thinks he spies Pokko down in front. “And you know what?…I think she’s pretty good!” Pokko’s a self-possessed marvel, brave enough to walk alone, face down a wolf, and lead a band. Forsythe’s smudgily glowing paintings alternate Rousseau-esque forest forms with cozy interiors; stripes and harlequin diamonds decorate clothing.

Celebrating both community and individuality, this droll, funny offering will tickle kids and adults alike.