Roth persuasively argues that “all artists…seek praise,” and this ambitious hybrid demands to be seen.
Meet fellow artists Roth and her avian counterpart, the bowerbird.
Blending memoir and nonfiction with deep ruminations on what constitutes an artist, Roth presents parallels between her life as an illustrator and the life of an Australian bowerbird. The bowerbird uses both colorful natural materials and “manufactured junk” to elaborately decorate a bower to entice a mate, which Roth presents as a kind of bird “artist’s studio.” It’s heady stuff, and those looking for straight nonfiction should look elsewhere, as most of the factual information on bowerbirds appears in the backmatter. Those willing to follow the metaphor will marvel at the similarities between the two as Roth deftly depicts the bird creating his bower while she metafictively creates this book. Bold, decisively cut collages capture the artists at work, highlighting their shared tools, their uses of artistic principles like space and color, and their equal penchant for collecting “unusual objects of manageable size.” Bird and human are further connected by the black bird’s lush feathers and the white woman’s feathery gray hair. Occasionally, the profusion of stuff feels dizzying, and sometimes comparisons feel lofty—“We each try hard to give our delicate compositions some solidity”—but introspective readers will be satisfied by the reflective nature of the text and the behind-the-scenes look at dual artistic processes.
Roth persuasively argues that “all artists…seek praise,” and this ambitious hybrid demands to be seen. (bibliography) (Picture book/memoir. 4-8)Pub Date: May 14, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-8234-4282-9
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Neal Porter/Holiday House
Review Posted Online: March 30, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2019
A good introduction to observation, data, and trying again.
Cece loves asking “why” and “what if.”
Her parents encourage her, as does her science teacher, Ms. Curie (a wink to adult readers). When Cece and her best friend, Isaac, pair up for a science project, they choose zoology, brainstorming questions they might research. They decide to investigate whether dogs eat vegetables, using Cece’s schnauzer, Einstein, and the next day they head to Cece’s lab (inside her treehouse). Wearing white lab coats, the two observe their subject and then offer him different kinds of vegetables, alone and with toppings. Cece is discouraged when Einstein won’t eat them. She complains to her parents, “Maybe I’m not a real scientist after all….Our project was boring.” Just then, Einstein sniffs Cece’s dessert, leading her to try a new way to get Einstein to eat vegetables. Cece learns that “real scientists have fun finding answers too.” Harrison’s clean, bright illustrations add expression and personality to the story. Science report inserts are reminiscent of The Magic Schoolbus books, with less detail. Biracial Cece is a brown, freckled girl with curly hair; her father is white, and her mother has brown skin and long, black hair; Isaac and Ms. Curie both have pale skin and dark hair. While the book doesn’t pack a particularly strong emotional or educational punch, this endearing protagonist earns a place on the children’s STEM shelf.
A good introduction to observation, data, and trying again. (glossary) (Picture book. 5-8)Pub Date: June 19, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-06-249960-8
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Greenwillow Books
Review Posted Online: March 26, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2018
A ribald and uproarious warning to those unschooled in fishy goings-on.
Sharpson offers so-fish-ticated readers a heads up about the true terror of the seas.
The title says it all. Our unseen narrator is just fine with other animals: mammals. Reptiles. Even birds. But fish? Don’t trust them! First off, the rules always seem to change with fish. Some live in fresh water; some reside in salt water. Some have gills, while others have lungs. You can never see what they’re up to, since they hang out underwater, and they’re always eating those poor, innocent crabs. Soon, the narrator introduces readers to Jeff, a vacant-eyed yellow fish—but don’t be fooled! Jeff’s “the craftiest fish of all.” All fish are, apparently, hellbent on world domination, the narrator warns. “DON’T TRUST FISH!” Finally, at the tail end, we get a sly glimpse of our unreliable narrator. Readers needn’t be ichthyologists to appreciate Sharpson’s meticulous comic timing. (“Ships always sink at sea. They never sink on land. Isn’t that strange?”) His delightful text, filled to the brim with jokes that read aloud brilliantly, pairs perfectly with Santat’s art, which shifts between extreme realism and goofy hilarity. He also fills the book with his own clever gags (such as an image of Gilligan’s Island’s S.S. Minnow going down and a bottle of sauce labeled “Surly Chik’n Srir’racha’r”).
A ribald and uproarious warning to those unschooled in fishy goings-on. (Picture book. 4-7)Pub Date: April 8, 2025
ISBN: 9780593616673
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Dial Books
Review Posted Online: Jan. 18, 2025
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2025
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