Next book

THE LION AND THE STOAT

Three sneaky episodes in the competitive life of rival artists, a lion and a stoat—and a showcase for the elegant wit of author/illustrator Zelinsky (who displays the assurance here of a much older pro). We first meet the pair as, lion in top hat and tails, stoat in scarf and beret, each critically studies a painting by the other (great-art spoofs) at the local museum—where the observant child will not only take in the rivalry at a glance (from the artists' posturings), but also spot the amusing details that Zelinsky distributes sparingly (and all the more tellingly) in his spacious compositions. Episode I has the lion and the stoat agree to a painting contest, at the marketplace. When birds peck at the lion's painted grapes, he claims victory—and challenges the stoat to unveil his painting. "There is no curtain," says the stoat. "Your still life may have fooled the birds, but my painting has fooled you." Episode II is not a guffaw, it's a gasp. (Both, we're told, are from Pliny.) Alone in the stoat's studio, the lion leaves a message—"a very thin, straight line across the middle of the canvas." The stoat, returning, leaves a message in turn—in a different color, "another, even thinner line over the one the lion had made." The lion, coming back, pronounces the result "not had." But it's his third line, "so thin it was almost invisible," that decides this second contest—as we see the stoat rushing to congratulate the lion at his sidewalk-cafe dinner. (Slightly Gallic or Pène-du-Bois-ish, yes; whimsical or satiric, not really.) Episode III finds each painting a picture, again in competition, for the new Town Hall—and both painting self-portraits. The mayor, disconcerted, has no choice but to hang both. Meanwhile the two artists, agreeing no-more-contests, head for lunch—and a game of tic-tac-toe on the checked tablecloth. Affectionate and sparkling.

Pub Date: March 1, 1984

ISBN: 0688025625

Page Count: 40

Publisher: Greenwillow Books

Review Posted Online: May 12, 2012

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1984

Awards & Accolades

Our Verdict

  • Our Verdict
  • GET IT


Google Rating

  • google rating
  • google rating
  • google rating
  • google rating
  • google rating

  • New York Times Bestseller

Next book

BECAUSE I HAD A TEACHER

A sweet, soft conversation starter and a charming gift.

Awards & Accolades

Our Verdict

  • Our Verdict
  • GET IT


Google Rating

  • google rating
  • google rating
  • google rating
  • google rating
  • google rating

  • New York Times Bestseller

A paean to teachers and their surrogates everywhere.

This gentle ode to a teacher’s skill at inspiring, encouraging, and being a role model is spoken, presumably, from a child’s viewpoint. However, the voice could equally be that of an adult, because who can’t look back upon teachers or other early mentors who gave of themselves and offered their pupils so much? Indeed, some of the self-aware, self-assured expressions herein seem perhaps more realistic as uttered from one who’s already grown. Alternatively, readers won’t fail to note that this small book, illustrated with gentle soy-ink drawings and featuring an adult-child bear duo engaged in various sedentary and lively pursuits, could just as easily be about human parent- (or grandparent-) child pairs: some of the softly colored illustrations depict scenarios that are more likely to occur within a home and/or other family-oriented setting. Makes sense: aren’t parents and other close family members children’s first teachers? This duality suggests that the book might be best shared one-on-one between a nostalgic adult and a child who’s developed some self-confidence, having learned a thing or two from a parent, grandparent, older relative, or classroom instructor.

A sweet, soft conversation starter and a charming gift. (Picture book. 4-7)

Pub Date: March 1, 2017

ISBN: 978-1-943200-08-5

Page Count: 32

Publisher: Compendium

Review Posted Online: Dec. 13, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2017

Next book

TALES FOR VERY PICKY EATERS

Broccoli: No way is James going to eat broccoli. “It’s disgusting,” says James. Well then, James, says his father, let’s consider the alternatives: some wormy dirt, perhaps, some stinky socks, some pre-chewed gum? James reconsiders the broccoli, but—milk? “Blech,” says James. Right, says his father, who needs strong bones? You’ll be great at hide-and-seek, though not so great at baseball and kickball and even tickling the dog’s belly. James takes a mouthful. So it goes through lumpy oatmeal, mushroom lasagna and slimy eggs, with James’ father parrying his son’s every picky thrust. And it is fun, because the father’s retorts are so outlandish: the lasagna-making troll in the basement who will be sent back to the rat circus, there to endure the rodent’s vicious bites; the uneaten oatmeal that will grow and grow and probably devour the dog that the boy won’t be able to tickle any longer since his bones are so rubbery. Schneider’s watercolors catch the mood of gentle ribbing, the looks of bewilderment and surrender and the deadpanned malarkey. It all makes James’ father’s last urging—“I was just going to say that you might like them if you tried them”—wholly fresh and unexpected advice. (Early reader. 5-9)

Pub Date: May 1, 2011

ISBN: 978-0-547-14956-1

Page Count: 48

Publisher: Clarion Books

Review Posted Online: April 4, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2011

Close Quickview