MIRROR

A Rorschach-like inkblot—darling in one glance, malignant in the next—patterns the yellow endpapers of this haunting, wordless story, a precursor of what’s to come. Isolated by a wordless, white page, a girl cries alone. Startled by her reflection, she tentatively plays with it. Splotches of color break up the emptiness, then swell into exuberant, golden-hued splashes of joy as the girl leaps with her image. Much as in Wave (2008), it is at this heightened, freeing moment that Lee throws her twist. Except here there is no uplifting, peaceful resolution. The girl and her image become one, then nothing. Upon reappearing, the disobedient reflection is punished. Glass shattered, the girl is alone again, weeping, the last page a mirror of the first. The artist’s expressive drawing quality is ideal for depicting a child at play, but it’s this same looseness and spontaneity that create the creepy disquietude felt when events take a dark turn. A cleverly planned design and well-told story with effective illustrations distinguish this psychological mind game, leaving readers to ponder its intent: Who is it for, and what is its point? The ensuing conversation holds the key. (Picture book. 9-12)