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I love picture books that inspire me, that bring a sense of beauty and hope, that encourage the reader to dream, to draw on creativity. The Boy From the Sun does all that. It is a real feel-good, magical book.

The Boy from the Sun

by Duncan Weller

Simply Read Books (January 2007)

ISBN-10: 1894965337, ISBN-13: 978-1894965330

My rating: 5 out of 5

On a cold grey

nothing sort of day

halfway

between home and school

sat three sad children.

They said nothing,

and could only stare.
Out of the sky

came a little body…
…with a big yellow shining head.

–The Boy From the Sun by Duncan Weller, p. 1-2.
Imagination can take us into wonderful places, and bring greater beauty and happiness to even painful situations. In The Boy from the Sun, three children sit, lonely and sad in a cold city, until a boy with a sun for a head comes down from the sky and shows them delights–a beautiful bird, flying children, whole cities of people and animals within trees, and lush greenry. As they follow the sun-boy along the sidewalk, the sidewalk begins to curve and change, and then disappears altogether. The sun boy tell the children that they can use their minds and creativity to change their lives, find new paths to take. And the children do. The Boy from the Sun suggests that we can all open our minds to creativity and inner imaginings to discover more choices and bring ourselves greater happiness. This is an inspiring, feel-good book, on many levels.

Weller’s text is, for the most part, sparse, without unnecessary detail, and thus moves quickly. Some pages have no text at all, and rely on the illustrations to carry the story forward, which they successfully do. Weller immediately engages reader empathy and identification by telling us that the children are sad, and that the day is a cold grey one, as well as by showing us the sad, lonely children in the illustration, each looking away from the others, together yet isolated and still. The children are never named, which I like; it leaves more room open for the reader to identify with them (and also leaves their gender up to the reader).

At times the text feels a little too simple; I would have liked a bit more lyrical word choices–but it works. A rather long poem near the end of the book stopped me; it didn’t fit the flow of the rest of the book, which had little to no text on the pages. The placement of the poem felt slightly forced. Yet I found the poem beautiful, and it spoke to me; I just wish it was a stanza shorter.

The poem suggests that using your mind and creativity, you can open up the world for yourself, find new paths to travel, and that by filling your inner world, you’ll find a greater place in the outer world. It directly tells the reader that ‘you are worth celebrating,” which is a wonderful message. These are all such important things to hear–I just wish it was sprinkled more throughout the book, instead of given all at once. There’s also a slight feeling of telling that puts me off, but there was only one phrase that felt a bit preachy to me: “You are worth elevating.” I could have done without that.

Weller creates an almost perfect partnership between the text and the illustrations, with each adding meaning to the other. The opening text, with the children sad on “a cold grey nothing sort of day” works beautifully with the black-and-white simple line drawings, heavy dark lines outlining the children, lots of white space that seems cold, especially with the cement sidewalk the children sit on, and the heavy blackness of the factories and smoke in the background. And the illustrations bring a great magic to the book.

Weller’s drawings are evocative and beautiful. There’s something about the simple black-and-white drawings, like a child’s drawings, that show the sadness and creativity so well, and that make the movement into color and dreams all the more powerful.

Weller moves the reader from a sad, cold, empty city landscape, into a small splash of color with the first bird, then a bit more color with green grass on either side of the sidewalk, and bits of blue into the sky, into a full riot of color and life and beauty in a breathtaking landscape–multicolored trees, animals, people from various cultures, all together into one magical land. There is so much to feast the eyes on, so many wonderful details to pore over. The colorful, detailed illustrations make the once-empty world seem full of vibrancy, life, and hope, showing what a little imagination can do.

The movement from bleakness to beauty and happiness is like a nourishing meal for the soul. I could spend a long time just looking at the beautiful colors in the tree trunks–purples, pinks, blues, greens, and oranges–never mind everything there is to look at, from monarch butterflies to a turtle to a lion to people from many different cultures, and great trees and sky.

I love how the children, the sidewalk, and the sun-boy remain black-and-white line drawings throughout the book, even amidst the other, more sophisticated color illustrations. As Weller moves the reader into more and more color and beauty, the sidewalk also changes shape, from a straight sidewalk into one that curves and ripples, then moves to connect tree-worlds, and finally breaks apart in the grass.

There is a lot in this book to set the imagination astir, starting with the boy from the sun, whose yellow shining head looks like a small sun, and then moving into the beauty and wonders that the sun-boy brings into the bleakness of the city. The book is a metaphor for imagination–it doesn’t matter where you are, or how bleak your surroundings are, you can make them better if you open your imagination and bring beauty to you. This is a wonderful unspoken message in the book. There is also a strong metaphor about the environment, that there is more freedom and happiness and room to play where the land is natural.

The closing illustration is beautiful, with the three children each now having glowing yellow faces like the sun, dancing through the grass with autumn trees swirling leaves around them. The factory is visible in the distance, which suggests that this time, it is the children who brought beauty to their own world, the city world, through their imaginations and hearts. This perfectly sums up the book, and leaves the reader with a sense of satisfaction and good feeling; there is such positive change here, fantasy made reality. I love it.

Though there are a few small things that didn’t work for me, most of the book is incredibly beautiful and imaginative; to me it is a masterpiece. If you haven’t seen this book yet, I suggest you get your hands on a copy. Highly recommended.
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I like to review older books, as well as books just off the press. I think there are some beautiful books that shouldn’t be missed–and this is one of them.

Marc Just Couldn’t Sleep

by Gabriela Keselman, illustrated by Noemi Villamuza

Kane/Miller (August 2004)

ISBN-10: 1929132689, ISBN-13: 978-1929132683

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Shortly afterwards Marc called out once more.

“What if the moon melts, and the world goes dark?” he asked.

“Don’t worry honey,” his mom answered, “I’ll fix that, and soon you’ll fall fast asleep.”

She gave him a pair of glasses with glow in the dark lenses and sent a letter to the moon. The letter said, “Moon, don’t even think about doing anything silly like melting or something.”

And then she left.

–Marc Just Couldn’t Sleep, by Gabriela Keselman, illustrated by Noemi Villamuza, p. 10.

Marc can’t sleep. He’s scared, and he worries about big things and small things. Each time he tells his mother a worry, she comes up with imaginative, playful ways to try to soothe him and get him to sleep. But even after she’s found a solution for each of his worries, he’s still scared. Exasperated, his mother comes in, takes away all the things she gave him as solutions, and sits with him, touching his hair, and encourages him to tell her all his fears–but by then, Marc is tired enough that he falls asleep. Imagination can help–but sometimes we just need physical comfort and having someone sit with us and listen, to go to sleep. This is a sweet, imaginative bedtime story.

Keselman makes it easy to identify with Marc–we hear immediately that he’s scared. Anyone who worries a lot, or who has a strong imagination, will understand Marc’s worrying and fear all the more. Some of Marc’s worries are universal–afraid of falling out of bed–and some are much more specific and imaginative–such as being afraid a giant mosquito will fly in and bite him. This movement between common fears and outrageous, imaginative ones helps bring variation, makes the fears entertaining, and may help some readers know that they are not alone in their worries and fears.

Marc’s mother shows great ingenuity and imagination in her solutions for Marc’s fears, and this brings a lightness and comforting feeling to the book. It may also encourage readers to come up with their own imaginative solutions. But the thing that soothed Marc the most was his mother sitting down next to him, touching his hair, and encouraging him to tell her everything. This rings true; talking out fears, having someone listen to you, and getting safe physical comfort can help allay fears. Marc’s mother also uses various endearments throughout the book (little one, honey, my love, darling) which all add to the sense of comfort.

The imaginative solutions have a playfulness to them, and a magical thinking that will appeal to young readers, especially, and the young at heart–a buzz-repellent teddy bear when he’s afraid a giant mosquito will bite him; a parachute when he’s afraid of falling out of bed; and a pair of glasses with glow-in-the-dark lenses when he’s afraid the moon will go out. The solutions are gentle, perfect for nighttime and for encouraging dreaming and flights of imagination.

Keselman creates a nice echo with the opening and closing paragraphs which brings us full circle, the words slightly changed to reflect the change in the story, from Marc not being able to sleep, to Marc not being able to stay awake. Keselman also uses repetition before each solution “Don’t worry, honey/love/darling, I’ll fix that, you’ll soon fall asleep” with slight variations in the endearments and way of saying he’ll fall asleep. This repetition is pleasing, comes to be expected in the text, and yet is not tedious or boring, because of the slight variations. The text flows well and smoothly.

Villamuza’s illustrations use the same tone that Keselman does in the text, bringing a feeling of comfort and sweetness, as well as a playfulness and gentle humor (such as a strainer being used for a helmet). Soft earthy tones are used and echoed throughout the illustrations, such as the clay-orange colander that Marc wears on his head, which is also found in his mother’s sweater.

Villamuza’s illustrations have long, lovely curves, found especially in Marc’s mom and the furniture, and there are no extraneous details in the illustrations. Marc is almost always the center of attention through close-ups that feature him. Large eyes, a sweet button nose, generous lips, and beautiful curvy hair make Marc look sweet, as does his pajamas and body language. Charcoal shading over top color brings a sense of light and shadow, and also movement.

Villamuza adds to the story by visually suggesting the great inventiveness and resourcefulness of Marc’s mother in using things around the house in an imaginative way to help him feel safer, such as a metal cooking spoon for a sword. A lot of white space is used in a number of the illustrations, bringing a feeling of lightness, with illustrations using full color mixed in, bringing visual variation. Villamuza has a great sense of design, using wallpaper that rises halfway up the wall to make Marc even more of a visual focus point.

This is a gentle, imaginative, and ultimately soothing book, both in the illustrations and text. Recommended!

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Sometimes you just want to pick up something light and enjoy it. Something that takes you on a flight of the imagination, and whirls you away on an adventure. If you like that kind of book, check out the Nightmare Academy.

Nightmare Academy
by Dean Lorey

HarperCollins (August 2007)

ISBN-10: 0061340421, ISBN-13: 978-0061340420

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

“Well!” Mr. Benjamin said finally. “I guess we had better go. We love you, son, and we trust you and we feel certain in our hearts and in our souls that nothing cataclysmic or disastrous will happen this evening.”

“It won’t,” Charlie said. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

And everything was fine. . . for a while. Charlie played computer games, ate pizza, and watched PG-13 horror movies. Incredibly, he even found himself on the verge of making a friend–a tall blond kid everyone called “F.T.,” which, Charlie learned, was short for “F.T.W.,” which was short for “For the Win,” because of his terrific video-game prowess.

It was the most fun Charlie had ever had in his entire life.

Then it came time to go to sleep.

Accounts differed as to what exactly happened during what newspaper headlines would soon call “Terror at Sleepover Apocalypse,” but certain facts were not in dispute. At some point, around three in the morning, tremendous screaming and crashing come from the bedroom where the kids were sleeping. When the adults in the house finally managed to fling open the door, they found all of the children suspended from the ceiling, wrapped tightly in cocoons of extraordinarily tough webbing. The only child not encased and suspended from the ceiling was Charlie, who stared at the shattered bedroom window in shock.

–Nightmare Academy by Dean Lorey, p. 8, 9.

Charlie’s imagination is so strong that when he has a nightmare, the nightmare creature gets portaled right into the room where he’s sleeping. This caused a lot of problems for Charlie, including his parents becoming both over-protective of him and very restrictive, isolating him from other people and children. People are afraid of him, and he doesn’t fit in anywhere. Charlie is very lonely, until one day some people come from the Nightmare Academy, a school that trains children with imagination to fight the monsters from the Netherworld. Charlie is one of the most powerful people at the academy, and he still doesn’t fit in–but he gains a few good friends and starts his training. He ends up having to fight powerful monsters, work to save his family, and deal with bullies. Through this, Charlie finds that he can use his imagination and self-doubt for good–and he can find his own place to fit in, after all. Don’t let the cover fool you–this is a funny, light-hearted fantasy.

Lorey opens the book by showing us how lonely and alone Charlie is, bringing instant reader empathy, and then quickly moves into zany humor. This humor and kookiness runs throughout the book; Lorey has a good sense of comedic timing. THe humor plus the array of characters who support Charlie and look out for him, help to bring lightness to the story. Although the monsters are presented as a threat, they never seem truly scary, and Charlie always overcomes or overpowers them. Even sections of the story that might take a much deeper, more serious tone in another book are suffused with lightness in this one, so the book feels like a pleasure read, never taking the reader to truly dark places or painful emotion. This is not a tension-fraught book. The fantasy explanations for some of the things that happen in the real world also add fun and lightness–such as Gremlins coming to Earth and eating up the power, creating rolling blackouts in New York and California.

Charlie is a likeable character, easy to identify with and care about. He starts out lonely, isolated, and in what seems almost like abuse at home, and in the end becomes a hero. He has a strong imagination, wants to do the right thing, and cares about his parents–though, from the early pages, it’s hard to see why. Occasionally we lose Charlie as other characters or action takes over, and there are some POV changes that can distract the reader, but mostly Charlie is the strongest part of the book–the character we really care about.

Lorey adds an interesting twist–at the Nightmare Academy, self-doubt, fear, and insecurity can make a person’s gift stronger IF the person is willing to open up to those feelings. So Charlie, who’s experienced a lot of isolation and pain that has led him to feel insecure and alone, becomes one of the most powerful people there because he’s able to easily open up to that strong feeling. I like this twist. It seems true in the real world, if you look at some of the great artists and writers; many of them experienced great pain or self-doubt. And while at first I wasn’t sure if I liked it, I think that it’s nice to have a positive twist for readers who experience a lot of self-doubt and fear, instead of the general disdain that society can have towards such people.

Charlie is made to look all the more powerful through contrast; he’s able to easily do things using his imagination that most of the powerful adult members of the academy can’t do. Charlie’s strong power combined with his insecurity and his occasional mistakes helps the reader like him, believe in him, and root for him throughout the book.

Some other characters feel like caricatures, almost slap-stick characters with language that feels so put on and over-the-top it doesn’t feel real–such as Charlie’s parents. And it may be confusing for readers that there is initially so much focus and attention placed on the Nightmare Academy team when later they fade more into the background, as Charlie’s new young friends become the key players with him. Still, the Nightmare Academy team of adults continue to be present throughout the story, and they provide some comfort as they side with Charlie. Pinch also offers a contrast between what Charlie is, with his openness to his imagination and fears, and what Pinch–or the reader, or some adults–could be like, by closing off their imagination and fears. This makes Charlie–and the gift of imagination–seem all the more special.

Lorey’s great attention to detail when he initially describes characters makes the characters seem unique, and gives us something to identify them with later on. At times unnecessary dialogue and exposition slows down the story almost to a halt, but once those sections are passed, the story quickly picks up again, and easily keeps and holds reader interest.

Lorey sets out the rules of his fantasy world clearly, but then sometimes seems to contradict his own rules. On the whole, though, they are easy to follow. Lorey also includes some great plot twists, especially in the last fifth of the book, which increases reader enjoyment.

If you’re looking for a fun, light-hearted fantasy read, check this book out. This is a book that will appeal to boys, especially, but also girls, fantasy lovers, and anyone who enjoys a fun or funny read. I had fun reading it.
Want more books?
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Books that encourage imagination, and that feel hopeful and inspiring, are books to be treasured. This is such a book.

Green as a Bean

by Karla Kuskin, illustrated by Melissa Iwai

Laura Geringer/HarperCollins (January 2007)

ISBN-10: 0060753323, ISBN-13: 978-0060753320

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

If you could be green

would you be a lawn

or a lean green bean

and the stalk it’s on?

Would you be a leaf

on a leafy tree?

Tell me, lean green one,

what would you be?

–Green as a Bean by Karla Kuskin, illustrated by Melissa Iwai, p. 1-2.

In this poem of a book, the reader is encouraged to wonder what if you could be ____? This is a fun game to play, most especially when the suggestions are imaginative, playful, and poetic. Children have great imaginations, and Kuskin has captured that in Green as a Bean.

Kuskin’s text is fanciful and creative; it encourages you to stretch your imagination, imagining yourself as many different ways you probably haven’t thought of. Kuskin’s suggestions cycle through different qualities throughout the book–a color, a texture, a volume of sound, a size. This helps to keep the concept interesting and fresh, and to move quickly; the reader will want to see what new idea is being suggested. Kuskin gives specific examples for each, many of which are lovely, playful, and evocative. A few didn’t quite work for me (such as an acrobat’s tights with a hole in the knee–that does not have the same flight of fancy or tone as the rest of the examples), but most of the examples work beautifully.

I love Kuskin’s thoughtful suggestions, things I’d never have thought of–like imagining yourself green as a lawn, a green bean or a leaf, or soft as the snow or a breeze. Kuskin gives different suggestions for each idea, which encourages the reader to not only imagine each one, but to think of their own. The suggestions encourage creative thinking and play, imagining yourself as different than you are, and dreaming, and also suggest that you can change–you don’t have to stay static.

Kuskin’s specific examples also suggest emotions–such as excited or angry for loud (loud as thunder at night), or serene or sleepy for soft (as a breeze or pillow), or calm or thoughtful (blue as the sky or passing clouds), or happy and excited or hopeful (bright as the sun, or the stars at night). There is much to be gleaned from the text, and great discussions could spring from this.

The text is in rhyming verse, and it flows seamlessly for most of the book, although there are a few places where the rhythm doesn’t quite work, at least to my ear. Kuskin’s poetry is both playful and deep, and this combination makes the book inspiring. It’s beautifully written.

Iwai’s gentle illustrations perfectly fit the tone of the book, and are comforting. Her illustrations feature one child in particular, which could be a girl or a boy, with a broad smile and glasses. The child is often easy to spot because of her glasses. Other children of various ethnicities also appear, all with smiling faces. Iwai’s illustrations move between magical illustrations with a touch of surreal (such as the child as a green bean inside the green pod, or her face a giant building block) and between more realistic yet still magical illustrations, such as the child watching a car, sitting on the back of a dragon, or looking up at the night stars and fireflies. This movement works beautifully, and allows the reader to both imagine themselves right within the poem, and gain some distance.

Iwai is very tuned into the text; for the text about being soft, the illustrations look light and airy and gentle, and for the text about being loud, the illustrations have strong movement and energy. Bright yet soft colors are used throughout, with the colors bleeding right to the edges of every page, creating a rich visual experience. One color often dominates a particular illustration or spread, with various hues of the color repeated throughout the illustration. The texture of the paper often shows through in the illustrations, which is pleasing. Texture is also created through the layers of highlight and some visible brush strokes. All of the illustrations span full spreads, and though I would have liked a bit more visual variation, it feels like there is more, through some visual divisions between concepts. Iwai’s illustrations are inspiring.

This is a feel-good book that encourages dreaming and imagination. Recommended!

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I love playful books that have a real sense of fun and imagination. If you do, too, then this book will interest you.

If You Were a Parrot

by Katherine Rawson, illustrated by Sherry Rogers

Sylvan Dell (August 2006)

ISBN-10: 0976494396, ISBN-13: 978-0976494393

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars


What would you do if you were a parrot? The children in If You Were a Parrot climb curtains, chew on pencils and spoons, imitate a phone ringing, and have a lot of fun. You will, too, reading this book.

The opening text grabs reader interest by beginning with a surprise–the idea of the reader only having four toes on each foot, and two that would point backwards. I love the playfulness of this, and the way it encourages the reader to use their imagination. The playfulness continues throughout the book.

Rawson gently teaches the reader about parrots, mostly without the reader feeling that they are being taught, because of the child-like playfulness, such as a child climbing the curtains, or enjoying eating a popsicle, stick and all. There is joy in so many of the examples, and fun at imagining doing something that the reader could not and should not do (such as chew through a table leg or successfully immitate a phone ringing so that people think they have to answer it), and this joy and impishness is contagious. Many of the ideas are startling to think of a child doing, which adds to the fun, and brings a freshness to the writing. The examples also give the reader insight into what a parrot might actually do all day.

Expectation is set up after each introductory idea of how the reader could be like a parrot, so that the reader gets to enjoy the idea of what she could do with that trait, but this is not always successful; sometimes the silliest ideas are incorporated into the introductory idea, and sometimes (as with the splashing and preening), there doesn’t seem to be any fun or uniqueness to the trait at all. I was looking for a rhythm that wasn’t completely there. At times the text moves into what feels like teaching, and then the story becomes slow, or doesn’t feel like a story. I would have preferred that the playfulness remain the strongest thread. I also found the mention of a cage off-putting; parrots in their natural environment do not live in cages, and it feels strange to have a child imagine themselves in a cage. However, that does fit a pet parrot. For the most part, this is a very playful, fun book that will stir children’s imaginations.

Rogers’ (Counting Little Geckos, Burro’s Tortillas) vibrant digital illustrations make the book come alive. Characters and objects are painted realistically, and almost look like you can reach out and touch them. Rogers makes great use of shadow and hues, which adds to the at times almost three-dimensional feeling. Bold colors emulate those of parrots and make the illustrations pop.

Rogers captures the feeling of the text and builds on it, adding setting details that enhance the story, such as a young child surrounded by crayons and drawings she’s completed, and a beautiful star-and-night blanket that covers the bird cage in the closing spread. The backgrounds fade into the page, with foggy blues and greys, and this makes the children and the parrots burst into the foreground even more. Rogers uses great detail, making the parrots feathers appear to have texture, and folds in clothing appear natural.

Different species of parrots and various ethnicicites of children are represented in the illustrations, which is refreshing. The illustrations use strong body language, adding to the surprise and joy of the text. One thing that sometimes visually threw me were the parrot beaks on the children’s faces, instead of children’s mouths. They take some getting used to. But once you do, they’re fun.

The last few pages after the story include interesting parrot facts, a parrot-related activity (make-a-beak craft), and some things you need to know if you want to have a pet parrot.

This is a book that is playful and fun–a flight into the imagination–while offering a lot of information about parrots. If You Were a Parrot encourages creative thinking and play. Recommended!

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Every once in a while you find a picture book that makes you grin and grin, all the way through. Melanie Watt’s Chester did that for me. I really enjoyed it.

Chester

by Melanie Watt

Kids Can Press (September 2007)
ISBN-10: 1554531403, ISBN-13: 978-1554531400

My rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

Once upon a time there was a mouse.

He lived in a house in the country.

Then Mouse packed his bags and went on a trip very, very far away and we neevr saw him ever again!

So Chester moved in and made a few changes to HIS new place.

–Chester by Melanie Watt, p. 1-3.




Melanie Watt, the author, starts writing a story about a mouse. Chester the cat, a character she’s drawn, quickly objects to that. He wants to hog all the attention in Watt’s book, and tries to, so the author and her character have a fight over whose story will take the upper hand, with Chester winning for much of the story, making the book about him, and not some mouse. Chester is a funny–at times laugh-out-loud funny–and clever book. It’s easy to identify with Chester; who hasn’t wanted to occasionally be the center of attention, or to have someone give you positives? Chester goes for that, no holds barred. This is a book that will have you grinning and wanting more.

Watt’s (Scaredy Squirrel, Scaredy Squirrel Makes a Friend,Augustine) humor runs throughout the entire book; it begins on the cover, with Chester the cat crossing out the author’s name (Melanie Watt), and putting his own in bright red marker, then continues on the fly leaf, the front matter, the copyright page, the intro page, and all throughout the story, with Chester making over-the-top, full-of-himself comments in bright red marker. The humor is a delight. Chester was nominated for the 2007 Cybils awards.

The story starts out with what is clearly the author’s text about a mouse. The first two lines are ho-hum, which make it all the more funny when Watt switches to Chester’s self-absorbed voice, with Chester’s text appearing in bright red marker beneath the first two lines. Chester’s efforts to take over the book are funny, such as him trying to make the mouse move from his home so the story will be all about Chester. There are also red-marker scribbles over the illustrations, as Chester circles the mouse and shows it leaving on an airplane, and then on the next page, puts his mark on many things in the illustration so that it is clearly HIS: marking the chair “Chester’s chair” and scribbling in a red ball of yarn, marking the curtain his, scribbling a stick-figure portrait of a cat over top all the mouse portraits, crossing out the cheese and putting in a fish to eat, etc. Readers will enjoy looking at all the ways that Chester tries to make the illustrations his own.

Watt retaliates in saucy and playful text by making the mouse return home, bringing with him a huge dog with teeth. The tug-of-war between the author and her character brings a light thread of tension as well as humor, which will make readers want to turn the pages quickly to find out what happens next. Watt and Chester talk back and forth, which makes the story feel more playful and tension-fraught, and moves the story along quickly. The dialogue is not put into quotation marks, as it’s seen as part of the text that they each write.

There is a wonderful playfulness, creativity, and inventiveness in the text and illustrations as Chester tries to make the story his own–and it helps the reader become aware of the author and the process of writing a book (in a good way). It also suggests creative problem solving, such as when Chester quickly makes the dog a vegetarian dog who only eats carrots.

Chester’s over-the-top enthusiasm about himself feels like the self-confidence that a healthy young child should have about her/himself. As a character in a book, and as a cat, it’s incredibly funny, as Chester’s proclamations reach greater and greater heights of outrageousness. The text is well written.

The ending didn’t feel like enough of an ending for me; I didn’t feel like there was quite enough of a wrap-up. I wanted a few sentences more, an extra beat or two, to bring the story to a satisfying close. I felt like I was left hanging. It also felt like a bit of a trick that the reader and Chester could see coming, when the author says she’ll write him his own story; of course the reader knows the author hasn’t given up trying to assert her “own” story. I would have preferred that Chester won or that there was some kind of truce; I found myself feeling badly for him, especially with the illustration on the back cover. Still, overall, the book made me feel happy; the humor is so strong.

Visually, Chester’s text always stands out from the rest of the story, through his bright red, large text and scribbled additions. This not only makes it easy and fun to read and to distinguish between what is supposed to be Watt, and what is Chester, but it also feels like Chester’s character–loud and bright.

The text and illustrations feel inseparable, each reinforcing the other, adding their own information and layers to the story, and neither repeating unnecessary information (such as when Watt adds a big dog into the story–the text says “Oh yes, did I mention he brought back a really big souvenir with teeth?”, while the illustration shows the huge dog with two incisors sticking out of his mouth. What is stated in the text occurs in the illustrations, like a cause and effect (such as when Watt says “it started to rain,” and all of Chester’s writing and drawings about himself are smudged and washed away, and he looks like a very drenched, unhappy cat. I love that glorious sense that the writing and text are so connected, and that the text so strongly influences the illustrations; there’s a kind of magic to that.

Watt’s pencil-and-watercolor illustrations have a soft, muted feel to them, which makes Chester’s bright red text and scribbles pop, making it immediately clear which are Chester’s additions and which are supposed to be Watt’s text. The red marker that Chester uses looks real and three dimensional, like it comes from a photograph, while Chester looks like he’s part of the illustrations, as he should be, being a character–and yet he’s so much more real than his own scribblings. His own text and illustrations make him seem alive, an active participant in the story.

I love the strong body language; Chester looks blissed out, happy, or smug when he adds his own additions; scared (with his hair getting all scruffy and his body puffing up) when he feels threatened by the dog; dissatisfied, grumpy, and wet when Watt makes it rain on him; and grumpy and disgruntled when he’s stuffed into a tutu. Chester’s expressions and body language really add to the fun of the book, and will have readers giggling aloud when Chester gets grumpy.

Some form of the mouse appears in all the illustrations, either as Watt’s illustration, or as Chester’s (which, of course, is really Watt). Keen readers will have fun spotting the mouse.

Watt’s illustrations are a visual delight; they are wonderfully creative in layout, such as when, in the text, she says she’s had enough by stating “This is where I draw the line!” and then in the illustration, Chester actually draws a red line, splitting the spread diagonally, where a tenth of the previous illustration shows up on the left page, bleeding to the edge of the page as if it’s been pushed off, and on the right page, taking up most of the space, is an illustration of Chester from behind as he draws the line with the red marker.

Watt’s illustrations frequently burst through borders and off single pages, which adds to the pleasing visual effect, and the aliveness of the illustrations. There’s a lot of white space, which brings a feeling of lightness.

The opening and closing illustrations are very similar. The opening illustration has a photo of Melanie Watt, and an illustration of her paints, pencil, tape, and desk, as well as a painting of Chester and the mouse, where Chester is coming alive, grabbing the red marker. In the closing illustration, the illustration is very similar, and over top of it, Chester appears with his red marker (no longer constrained by the paper he was once on), where he’s drawn a mustache, beard, and glasses on top of Watt’s face. This brings a nice echo and feeling of repetition, along with change.

Props to Watt, the designer, or whoever made sure that Chester’s scribbles were found throughout the entire book, including the front and back cover, the inner flaps and front matter. It adds to the utter delight of the story, and makes the whole book seem playful and part of the experience. Even the author/illustrator bio at the back is a delight to read, as Watt’s author photo is pushed up off the page, so her face doesn’t even appear (just her neck), and Chester has written notations throughout her short bio, such as “Boring!!” and “This biography is putting me to sleep!”, and then Chester’s bio appears, written and drawn by him, completely in character: “Forget what’s-her-name…CHESTER is the real author and illustrator of Chester” (and more). The back cover has the mouse putting one over on Chester, which works well for any readers who felt badly for the mouse; the mouse has taped a “Mice rule!” to Chester’s back, though may prompt other readers to feel some sympathy for Chester.

Looking for a fun read that will make you laugh? Or a light-hearted read that will bring out the joyful, confident, wanting attention parts of you. Pick this book up. Highly recommended!

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Space Boy

by Leo Landry

Houghton Mifflin (September 2007)

ISBN-10: 0618605681, ISBN-13: 978-0618605682

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

The moon shined brightly as Nicholas readied for bed.

This is what he could hear:

his baby sister crying in her crib,

the dog barking to be let out,

and the radio blaring on the front porch.

Even the noises from his neighborhood floated through his open window.

Too loud, thought Nicholas, holding his ears, and I’m NOT going to bed!

In that moment, Nicholas made a decision.

Space Boy, by Leo Landry, p. 1-4




We all need some alone time, sometimes–some time away from noise and people and distractions. This is especially true for sensitive and creative people. After Nicholas hears his baby sister crying, his dog barking, and the radio blaring all at the same time, Nicholas decides that the world is too noisy. He wisely finds a way to get some quiet for himself–by taking a trip to the moon. On the moon he has a picnic, walks around, remembering the people he loves, and then goes back to find everyone more quiet and peaceful, which helps him be ready for bed.

Many readers will be able to identify with Nicholas becoming overwhelmed by noise and wanting some time and space to himself–and the creative way he finds that space, through his imagination, is a wonderful way to inspire both finding quiet and using one’s imagination.

Landry’s (Eat Your Peas, Ivy Louise; The Snow Ghosts) story is a gentle fantasy with layers of reality and a nice sense of language and rhythm woven throughout the text. Landry uses repetition of the sounds Nicholas could hear–or not hear–three times overtly in the story, in the opening, middle, and closing, which brings a lovely sense of balance, rhythm, and rightness, and once more, less overtly, when Nicholas is thinking about the people and animals that made those sounds. The second time Landry repeats the sounds, he repeats them with a twist–what Nicholas could NOT hear. I love that twist; it underscores just how overwhelming–and important–the sounds are.

The repetition is not only pleasing and soothing, but also works well as a catalyst throughout the story, and is an emotional thread that Nicholas (and the reader) respond to–first as an irritant or overwhelming noise, then as something he can’t hear when he has his peace and quiet, then as positive memories that make him want to go back home, and finally, back home, as quiet and peaceful, positive once more.

Landry creates a real sense of calm and peace when Nicholas is on the moon, through the well-chosen words and phrases such as, “How nice,” (about the quiet), “delicious,” “beautiful blue earth,” and “silent and peaceful.” The sense of calm and peace is also created through the fun of Nicholas’ imagination–the weightlessness of his tomato slices as they fly off his sandwich–and through the familiarity and soothing quality of what he chooses to do on the moon–have a picnic, take a walk on the moon, silent and alone.

Landry then moves the reader into a shift, as things start to remind Nicholas of what drove him away earlier–his sister, his dog, his parents listening to the blaring radio–only now he’s reminded of positive memories of them, and of the good times he had with his family and dog. Those memories and associations help convince both Nicholas and the reader that he really does want to go back home to earth to be with his family, and they help us believe in his deciding to go back home when he gets to his ship. Landry also has Nicholas realize that the moon that he is on is the same moon that he and his family watch from the porch, which brings some poignancy to the story.

Although I love the shift that Landry created, it felt a little too long, and I also thought that while two connections were very clear (his sister, his dog), the third (his family sitting on the porch); in the beginning, this is stated as the radio blaring on the front porch, not his family sitting on the porch in the moonlight (it’s missing the sound connection, the radio). Some readers may not be able to make the connection at first, and those connections are what helps bring the pleasing feeling of repetition and the emotional working through of an issue, so for me, it creates a small gap. Still, the other two are quite satisfying on their own.

Nicolas’ certainty at what to do in order to have his rocket get to the moon–he knew exactly what buttons to press–fits a child’s imagination and sense of being in control of their own play, as does Nicholas having a picnic on the moon.

The ending wraps up nicely; Nicholas, having had the quiet he needs, goes back home to find that everyone else is quiet now, too (although his parents are still listening to the radio, but it is “listening”, not a “blaring” radio). Nicholas then feels ready for bed, and after his parents tell him good night (without criticizing him for being up past his bedtime), he realizes how good it feels to be home. This brings an uplifting, cozy feeling to the ending.

Landry’s watercolor-and-pencil illustrations are simple and child-like, with gentle colors. Backgrounds are often washes of one color. Many illustrations are contained within rectangles with rounded borders, while others bleed right to the edge of the page or take up an entire spread, bringing visual variety. The illustrations have a slightly flat feel to them, without depth or gradation of hue, which gives them a child-like feeling.

Landry visually distinguishes between Nicholas’ imaginative visit to the moon–all of the illustrations during his visit bleed right to the edges of the pages, taking up the entire page or full spreads–and his time at home–the illustrations when he’s at home are smaller than the entire page and are contained within borders if they’re a scene, or smaller, free-floating illustrations paired with the text.

Landry pairs the tone of the text with the illustrations well; on the moon, where everything is quiet, this quiet is underscored by how small Nicholas is on the moon, alone, with small mountains around him and great wide open space, and the vastness of the star-lit sky above him.

There’s a lovely spread that creates a balance between the two worlds as Nicholas starts off on his trip, both contained within a circle; on the left-hand page, we see the earth through the round porthole, and Nicholas’ space-helmet taking up part of the round porthole, creating both a crescent-moon and a full-moon effect, and on the opposite page, we see the full, bright round moon, surrounded by sky.

When Nicholas is on the moon, the earth is visible in almost every illustration, which helps remind the reader that home is there, waiting.

Landry includes some fun outer-space touches in Nicholas’ bedroom in the opening illustrations, which young readers will enjoy spotting, such as Nicholas’ miniature spaceship lamp, his spaceship helmet on the dresser, and a painting of the moon and stars above his bed. Even after Nicholas arrives home, the moon continues to be brought into the text and illustrations, as he steps onto moonlit grass, he tells his parents he’s ready for bed (and in the illustration, Nicholas appears within a circle which is bright yellow, like the moon), and the moon appears above his parents sitting on the porch, as well as above his head (in the painting above him) when he goes to sleep. This reinforces the quiet place that Nicholas found on the moon.

Space Boy encourages the reader to use their imagination, to find a quiet place of their own, and to come back when they’re ready. Do you know a sensitive person, or a child who loves outer space? Give them a copy of this book. Recommended!

-Added December 16, 2007

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I was a shy child who often had trouble speaking up, and when I did speak, people usually couldn’t hear me. So Oliver Has Something to Say! really appeals to me; it’s the kind of book that I’ll want to read many times. Oliver Has Something to Say! was nominated for the 2007 Cybils awards.

Oliver Has Something to Say!

by Pamela Edwards, illustrated by Louis Pilon

Lobster Press (April 2007)
ISBN-10: 1897073526, ISBN-13: 978-1897073520

Ages 4+

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

“Oliver, dear, would you like some more spaghetti?” asked his mom at the dinner table.
Oliver opened his mouth and his big sister, Margaret, said, “No, he doesn’t want any more. He’s got sauce all over his face and noodles in his hair.”

Oliver closed his mouth.

“You’re right,” said Mom.

She looked at Oliver.

“Go wash your face, dear. I’ll deal with your hair later.”

Oliver looked down at his plate.

A noodle fell out of his hair and landed there.

–Oliver Has Something to Say!, by Pamela Edwards, illustrated by Louis Pilon, p. 1-2.

Four-year-old Oliver is shy, and doesn’t talk at all–his family answers for him every time he’s asked a question. They assume they know what he likes and wants, and don’t listen to his body language. Oliver keeps trying to tell them, but they don’t listen–until finally one night when Oliver makes them listen. Do you know a shy child, or were you shy yourself as a child? This book will appeal to shy readers. It strikes a chord in me; I was a shy, introverted child myself, so I really enjoy Oliver Has Something to Say!. This is definitely a book worth checking out.

Throughout the book, Oliver opens his mouth to say something, and the others speak for him instead. This could quickly get overwhelming, but Oliver’s continued small acts of rebellion help to balance out the others taking over–such as Oliver locking the door on his sister after she rushes out with the goody bags when he was about to tell the guests they’d forgotten them, and his patting a dog and letting it lick his face, even though his sister says he’s scared of dogs. Still, I would have liked to see the rebellion come in just a little sooner–or have there be a few less incidents where people take over for him, before he begins to rebel.

Oliver’s family seems absolutely clueless and insensitive, ignoring his nonverbal communication, but they do not come off as cruel–just obtuse. They seem to care about Oliver, which helps.

Oliver increasingly becomes stronger in his small rebellions as the story progresses, which helps the reader root for him, wanting him to succeed, and helps balance out what could otherwise be too painful a book. Although Oliver’s family keep ignoring his attempts to make himself heard, it’s clear to the reader what he wants and doesn’t want.

Edwards makes the point of how a child can get used to others answering for her/him, and so may feel unable to speak when they are on their own–until they are encouraged to. Oliver’s teacher, who clearly listens to Oliver and helps him break through his silence, is refreshing and provides some comfort and relief for the reader. Oliver (and the reader, through the story) is encouraged to speak up, and speaking up is shown to be a positive thing.

When Oliver finally rebels against others making all the decisions and speaking for him, by telling his family what he does and doesn’t like, the reader will cheer for him. Edwards shows us great character change through Oliver, and shows us Oliver coming into his own strength and self. There’s also humor and a feeling of satisfaction when for once it’s Oliver who’s speaking, and the others who are opening their mouths without words coming out. Although it takes him a while to get there, Oliver is the true hero of the story; he is the one who breaks through his own silence and gets past others always answering for him. He makes himself heard.

Edwards creates instant reader empathy for Oliver, through other characters not giving him the space to speak and not listening to him, and through his obviously sad body language in the text (Oliver bowing his head and the spaghetti falling off). There’s a lot of text in the story, but the frequent dialogue helps make the text move quickly. Oliver’s small rebellions also help the story move forward, as the reader will want to see him succeed.

Oliver Has Something to Say! will appeal to many readers–young readers, shy readers, readers who know what it’s like to have someone else try to control you (as most children experience at one time or another). The story shows some of the powerlessness of being a child, and the way people control you, often without realizing it. When a child is hesitant, shy, or has trouble speaking up, it’s often easy for the people around the child to take over and speak for the child–but in doing so, this can take away the child’s voice, as this book so clearly shows. Oliver Has Something to Say! has an important message woven into the story–that it’s not only good, but important to be heard, and that even if you’re shy, you can do it, if you give yourself enough time.

Pilon uses an expressive cartoon style. There is strong, clear emotion in every illustration; Oliver, who has such trouble speaking, has a very small mouth parted in an tiny O, while his eyes take up most of the room on his face. Oliver’s anger and resistance when he locks the door on his sister are so strong and clear that you can really feel it, and it makes me laugh. And when Oliver finally speaks up, his happiness and delight is made strong by his grinning open mouth and wide eyes, and the sound lines that radiate from his head. Pilon captures the feeling of the text; the text and illustration work beautifully together. The cartoon-style illustrations also add some lightness and humor to the book; it’s especially fun to see Oliver’s bossy sister visually freak out when Oliver lets a dog lick his entire face–especially since the sister appears smug earlier in the book.

Colors are soft and bright. Oliver always stands out, in part through his wearing a red t-shirt or his standing by something red, which helps make him a visual focus point, and in part by his huge eyes, which are almost always larger than any other character’s. Setting and background are often slightly faded, bringing characters into the foreground and into the reader’s attention.

One to two illustrations appear on each page, with some illustrations in small contained boxes, which adds to the cartoon feel of the book and helps match the pace of the text. Often illustrations from the same scene appear on a spread, which brings a feeling of continuity. Characters are often in motion, looking natural (such as when Oliver’s mom is seen carrying laundry down the hall, for her one line in that illustration). Characters are never static.

Oliver Has Something to Say! works well; Oliver has a problem that he solves himself–a problem that many children can relate to. Do you know a shy child, or a child who has a hard time speaking up? Give them this book; it may help them to feel understood or less alone. Oliver Has Something to Say! encourages self-confidence, speaking up, and listening to others. This is a great story with depth and understanding of how it feels to be a shy child. It’s easy to read and to relate to. Highly recommended!

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Sometimes book banning has a positive effect--the book gains publicity, and it finds new readers. That is how I stumbled over And Tango Makes Three, and I'm very glad I did; it is one of my new favorite picture books. I also think it's a very important picture book to ... Read the rest of this post

I enjoy reviewing new books–and I think it’s important that good, “older” books do not get lost or forgotten, just because they’re not hot off the press. So this review is about a book that I think is fantastic from 2004.

Billy’s Bucket

by Kes Gray, illustrated by Garry Parsons

Red Fox/Random House (June 2004)

ISBN-10: 0099438747, ISBN-13: 978-0099438748

My rating: 5 out of 5

Billy looked long and hard at every single bucket on every single shelf.

“There it is,” he shouted excitedly, “that’s the one I want, right up there–19 shelves up, 78 along from the left!”

Billy’s mum and dad got someone to help them.

“They all look the same to me,” said the shop assistant.

“No, that one’s special,” said Billy excitedly.

When Billy got home he ran straight into the kitchen and filled his bucket with water.

“Wow!” said Billy, peering inside his bucket.

“I can see a rock pool with crabs and seaweed and little shrimpy things!”

“Of course you can, Billy,” smiled his dad.

Billy’s Bucket, written by Kes Gray, illustrated by Garry Parsons, p. 7-12

All Billy wants for his birthday is a bucket. His parents try to talk him out of it, but when he won’t change his mind, they give in and take him to Buckets-R-Us, where Billy picks out a very specific bucket. The store assistant and his parents can’t see anything different about it, but Billy can. He knows it’s special. And when he gets home and fills it with water, the reader sees he was right. Each time Billy peers into the bucket, he sees an underwater scene. He tells his parents, but they don’t believe him. Even worse, they tease him about it, suggesting that they’ll use his bucket for mundane things. Billy forcefully tells them that whatever they do, they must not use his bucket. But in the morning when he wakes up, his bucket isn’t there. Billy runs outside, only to find that his father has emptied a gigantic whale onto the street and cars. Billy simply says “I told you not to borrow my bucket.” Billy’s Bucket is a wonderfully imaginative, magical, and feel-good fantasy.

Gray (Eat Your Peas, You Do!) creates sympathy and empathy for Billy in the very first spread as his parents try to talk him out of what he really wants, suggesting other, more expensive things that many kids would jump at–a computer game, a bike, running shoes–and belittling his wish for a bucket. Gray notches up the sympathy through having Billy’s parents laugh at him and tease him when he tells them what he sees, refusing to believe him. Young readers may enjoy Billy’s seriousness and earnestness of what is truly fantastical, and root for him, believing in his underwater world along with him.

Billy shows great strength of character and tenaciousness as he sticks to his both his desire for a bucket though his dad tells him that “nobody has buckets for their birthday,” and to what he sees in his bucket, though his parents don’t believe him. This helps the reader like Billy right from the opening, and by the end, shows the reader that Billy was right to stay true to himself.

Gray’s pacing works well. Billy’s search for the perfect bucket brings reader curiosity and suspense (Why does Billy want a bucket? Why is this one special?) as well as humor, as Billy is the only one who can see that the bucket is special. That Billy is so precise in picking out his bucket helps clue the reader in that Billy really can see something special, and the precise detail also helps the magic seem more believable, as does his parents scoffing at the magic. (Adults often–but not always–seem to miss what children can see so easily.)

Gray’s dialogue helps the text move forward quickly. The dialogue feels believable, especially Billy’s description of what he sees in his bucket “I can see a rock pool with crabs and seaweed and little shrimpy things!”. Billy’s dialogue where he names what he knows and only describes what he doesn’t know makes what he sees in the bucket seem all the more real; it sounds just like a child would act if it were really happening.

Gray creates tension for the reader as Billy is laughed at, unfairly teased, and not believed by his parents. This tension makes the ending all the more sweet and triumphant, as Billy is proved right beyond a doubt, and the tension is released. It brings a great reward for the reader, and is deeply satisfying. It also brings a sense of justice, of having some right in the world, especially for a young child.

Billy’s Bucket is a tribute to a child’s imagination and a child’s wisdom, in seeing something that the adults around him are blind to because it does not fit into their understanding of the world. It also shows how real one’s inner world can feel; it is made real in this book.

Billy’s Bucket has a great pairing of text and illustration; the illustrations show things that the text does not, and without the text, the story would not be a story, or so deeply satisfying.

Parsons (G.E.M., Trouble at the Dinosaur Cafe) uses a loose, exaggerated, cartoon-like style. Parsons’ illustrations have wonky, fun perspectives and a free energy. Characters and objects are outlined in thin color, and sometimes background objects are only depicted through colored outlines. The illustrations are cheerful, with full color spreads and bright colors, and repeating shades of yellow, blue, green, and red.

Keen observers will love spotting all the sea themes in the book that also appear in the buckte’s underwater scenes and serve as a kind of visual foreshadowing, such as the wind-up toy whale and the paintings and drawings on the wall of a whale and a boat on a wave; the octopus that appears underwater and recurs in the newspaper and calender; and the crab that appears in the bucket and later in a drawing on the wall. Another fun visual detail that also helps to tie the book together is that a truck that transports buckets, presumably from the same store where Billy purchased his bucket, is seen passing through the window in the opening and closing illustrations, and also on the copyright page.

Throughout the story, we see Billy’s parents preparing birthday things for him–balloons, cupcakes, food–that is not mentioned in the text. This helps add dimension to the story, and make it feel more full and rich; the characters are “living” beyond the text.

Parsons cleverly uses perspective to make the reader feel as if they are in the bucket with the sea creatures, looking up at Billy looking in, whenever Billy peers in his bucket. This perspective helps the reader feel more a part of the story and magic, and makes the magic seem more real. It’s not just Billy’s perspective; we’re there, too. This feeling grows each time Billy looks in the bucket, as the underwater scene grows larger and larger, and Billy’s face and the top of the bucket grow smaller and smaller. Visually, the underwater scenes also take up more room on the spread, moving from one page, to a page and a fifth, to a page and a half, to a page and a bit more than that.

Readers may also enjoy deciding things for themselves through the illustrations that are not told (or decided) in the text, such as when Billy says he thinks he saw a mermaid but it could be a big herring. If the reader looks closely they can see that it is, indeed, a mermaid in the water. The ending is punctuated by the illustrations; we are not told in the text exactly what happened until the very last page, but in the second-to-last page we see it–the whale lying in the street, Billy’s father staring flabbergasted, his mouth open, the bucket still swinging, water splashing out of it. This allows the reader to put some things together for themselves, and ensures that the text and illustrations do not retell what is unnecessary.

Billy’s Bucket encourages imagination, dreaming, and staying with your own truth. It is a fun, deeply satisfying fantasy, and is one of my very favorite books. Highly recommended.

review by Cheryl Rainfield

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The Short and Incredibly Happy Life of Riley

by Colin Thompson, illustrated by Amy Lissiat

Kane/Miller (September 2007)

ISBN-10: 1933605502, ISBN-13: 978-1933605500

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Everyone wants to live forever.

They want to be happy and healthy.

Some of these things are actually quite difficult, but some of them are really easy, which might seem surprising because most people hardly manage any of them. At least not all of the time.

None of this bothered Riley.

Riley had been born happy. His earliest memory was being with his brothers and sisters and mom in a big bed with plenty of food and no rain.

He was always happy, even when he was asleep.



–The Short and Incredibly Happy Life of Riley, by Colin Thompson, illustrated by Amy Lissiat, p. 1-5.

Riley the rat is always happy. Riley doesn’t want much–just enough to be happy. He wants food in his belly, a stick with a pointy end to scratch his back, and to be where he is. He appreciates everything in his life, is satisfied with everything he has, is sure that he is beautiful and everyone loves him, and feels that he has everything he needs–unlike people, who so often want something more, and something after that, and who are so often depressed, unsatisfied, and satiated. This is a humorous, philosophical look at life, where the rat clearly knows how to live happier and with less baggage.

Thoughtful, thought-provoking, and unique, The Short and Incredibly Happy Life of Riley combines a zen-like philosophy (”The only place Riley ever wanted to be was here, which he always was.”) with humor, wisdom, criticism of modern culture, and a definite lesson. The book feels like it’s aimed more at adults than children. Thompson’s (How To Live Forever, The Paper Bag Prince ) text does not read like a story, though Riley’s scenes are close (yet without tension). The text reads more like a modern folk tale that imparts a lesson. However, the strong humor keeps the lesson from feeling overly didactic.

Each scene with Riley (where he only wants just as much as he needs, or is happy) is quickly contrasted by the greed, discontent, and sometimes meanness of people, first shown through a brief example that contrasts Riley’s, and then through a long hyphenated list of things people want. The hyphenated lists will be very funny to older readers, who may recognize some of their own wants or those of the people around them. The lists may also appeal to young children, just through the lovely jumble of language and specific details that are listed (”People want double-fudge-chocolate-caviar-sausage-gourmet-jumbo-size-
baby-cow-sheep-chicken-with-extra-thick-whipped-cream-
and-msg-sauce-burgers. Some of which is gross, some cruel and most, unhealthy.”). Thompson clearly had a lot of fun writing this book; the dry humor and satire leaps from the text, as if the author is there winking at you from the page and giving you a sly grin.

Thompson’s text flows easily; humor, careful word choice, and the hyphenated lists carry it through. Thompson sometimes uses metaphor to make his point (such as that people shouldn’t be allowed to have sticks with pointy ends because they stick them in each other–ie. hurt each other emotionally, verbally, physically) and it works well.

Through Riley’s example, the reader can see healthy, healing ways of thinking about themselves and the world around them, and may be able to absorb some of the philosophy themselves (”He was beautiful and everyone loved him. He was the best and so were his brothers and sisters and mom.”). These sections are powerful and healing. However, I worry how a young reader will take the frequent putting down of people and the way we think and act that follows the sections on Riley (since the reader is, after all, a person). How a reader takes it will depend on the reader. Thompson pokes fun at the way some people act–ways that are unhealthy and unhelpful. Those are good things for young and old readers to be aware of, to get some distance from. I just wish that Thompson had said “some.”

Riley’s sections bring a warm, cozy feeling, which Thompson brings about through well-chosen words (”…being with his brothers and sisters and mom in a big bed with plenty of food and no rain”). Lightness is also brought through the frequent humor. The strong contrast between how people are and how Riley is makes it all the more clear how much better Riley’s way is, how much happier he is.

Thompson’s wise observations spiced with humor are ones that young, and especially older, readers may identify with–such as that people often don’t allow themselves to eat what they want; that people often feel depressed when they look in the mirror; or that people always want more. Thompson points out that people, though often not allowing themselves to be happy, usually live for a long time, whereas Riley, who is very happy, lives for only a short time. Thompson suggests that you just have to be happy with a lot less, which is a good concept, though that wording could have been a little more positive (enjoy what you have, instead of be happy with less). The very last page says “Release your inner Riley,” which is a great suggestion.

On my first read through I was put off by the overt lesson, but on subsequent read throughs I found myself enjoying it, and liking the lessen, wisdom, and philosophy that runs through the book. I think I’d pick and choose which children I’d recommend this book to, though this will have a definite appeal to some children, especially those who like clear guidance or a subversive humor. I’d heartily recommend this book to most adults. You may want to purchase this book just to remind yourself of what’s important in life.

Lissiat’s illustrations are quirky, unique, and fit the humorous and satiric text. The illustrations look like a mix between watercolor and ink, and acrylic, though they are actually Photoshop illustrations–incredibly good ones. Riley’s spreads are child-like and overtly happy; Riley himself is a lovely bright mauve, and is almost always surrounded by shades of blue and yellow (sky) and green (grass and outdoors), adding an expansive, happy, easy-to-breathe feeling. Riley is usually smiling, and looks laid back and content.

In stark contrast, Lissiat’s illustrations of people are either completely sepia tinted, including the backgrounds (especially when people are depressed or mean in the text), or are a dull beige on washed out backgrounds. This underscores the painful emotion, and makes those illustrations stand out from the rest of the color in the book. It also makes the contrast between the people and Riley even greater. Lissiat’s illustrations of people are decidedly quirky, and even off-putting or disturbing. The adult male figure looks strange, like a short, stocky child in adult clothes and one of those glasses-and-mustache disguises, with a bowler hat on his head. And in the opening spread, he is seen holding a bouquet of flowers towards a curvy woman in lingerie with hearts all around her. That particular illustration doesn’t seem quite relevant to children.

Background are often washes of color with some fuzzily depicted setting details. In several illustrations near the end (which fit with the text), Lissiat plays with famous paintings such as the Mona Lisa and Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, inserting the strange little man’s face into most of them. Older readers may enjoy this playful, humorous touch.

The Short and Incredibly Happy Life of Riley is an enjoyable, funny, thoughtful and thought-provoking book that is sure to remind the reader of what’s important in life, and what really matters. Recommended.

Smart Dog
by Vivian Vande Velde
Magic Carpet Books, Harcourt (Oct 2007, reprint)
ISBN-13: 978-0152061722

My rating: 5 out of 5

On this particular spring morning as Amy walked to school, she was well within her schedule when she saw a dog sitting on the sidewalk. It was a medium-sized dog with floppy ears and big brown eyes and long fur that was equal parts brown and white and black.

“Excuse me,” the dog said just as Amy was about to step around him. “I’m in trouble. Could you please help me?”

Amy stopped, panicked–not because she was afraid, for the dog wasn’t scary–but because she had no idea how to react. She knew dogs didn’t talk, but probably the last thing she would have expected a dog to say if it could talk was “Excuse me” and “Please.” She wouldn’t have guessed that a dog would be so polite.

–Smart Dog by Vivian Vande Velde, p. 2.

What would you do if you were walking to school and a dog suddenly spoke to you, asking you for help? Would you be so surprised that you wouldn’t be able to believe it, or would you listen? Amy listens, and discovers that the F-32, who she renames as Sherlock, is on the run from a doctor at a college who wants to dissect his brain to see how it works. Sherlock’s been part of some lab experiments that made him smarter, but he doesn’t want to die. So Amy helps to hide him, overcoming many obstacles in the process and making some new friends, and Sherlock helps her to stand up to a class bully. Smart Dog is a wonderfully funny, light-hearted, and inspiring book–a really enjoyable read.

Vande Velde (Heir Apparent, A Well-Timed Enchantment)writes masterfully, drawing the reader in right away and not letting them go until the very last word. The good feeling, worry for the characters, humor, and plot events push the reader quickly forward. Vande Velde evokes reader identification and sympathy for Amy right away, as the reader learns on the second page that Amy is teased and bullied by a popular girl at school, is not one of the in-crowd (as so many children aren’t), and is insecure. Amy is an immediately likable character–she has a good heart, is kind to others, and is compassionate, unlike the bully (Kathryn) and the villain (Dr. Boden). The contrast in behavior also underscores just how much kinder Amy is. Sherlock, too, is also kind, which helps the reader root for both Amy and Sherlock.

Vande Velde brings the fantasy element into the story right on the second page, not making readers wait for it. I think this is a strong move that works well; readers like to know what type of book they’re reading, and whether it will be worth the time spent reading. Many readers have less and less patience with waiting to find out, so Vande Velde’s text quickly satisfies. Readers quickly discover that Sherlock is a very special dog; not only can he talk, but he taught himself how to use the computer (by watching the students at the lab, and then by using a pencil held in his teeth to press the keys), he can spell, he can work through problems, and he is kind and loyal to the people who are kind to him. Despite Sherlock’s ability to talk, Vande Velde succeeds in making readers believe that he is a dog through his child-like innocence and his dog-like behavior (such as wedging his head between Amy’s arms so that she has to pat him, or liking how another dog smells).

Vande Velde captured Kaitlyn, the girl bully, really well, showing realistic emotional manipulation, taunting, and laughing at Amy, while fooling many adults around her. Vande Velde shows us Kaitlyn’s bullying behavior and allows us to understand it for ourselves, and through this example, creates greater sympathy for Amy. Vande Velde also captured the feeling of the child who’s left out, teased, or on the outskirts of a group, making the experience vivid and believable. She knows her craft well–she does not make the bullying so horrible that it stops you reading, and she makes sure that that there are many rewards for readers–happy, uplifting moments as Amy gains friends, finds acceptance, is compassionate with others, and is the true hero in the book, and as others stand up for and help Amy. This will strike a deep chord for any child being bullied or having experienced bullying and the feeling of being left out, and it gives the book an emotional appeal. The humor throughout the text helps to balance out the bullying and tension and keeps it from becoming too painful.

There are places where the reader can see more clearly than Amy can, and before she does, what is going on (such as that Sister Mary Grace is not fooled by Kaitlyn, like the other teachers are). Some readers may enjoy this feeling. Depth and thoughtfulness are twined throughout the text, less obvious than the humor but a strong thread.

Vande Velde never overwrites or over-explains, allowing readers to come to their own conclusions. At times she shows us the subtext or gives the reader extra clues to make something clear (such as with the villain, Dr. Boden), but Vande Velde shows us cleverly, through Amy’s observations of the difference between someone’s actions or speech, and what they seem to be really thinking or feeling. Vande Velde slowly increases and builds on the tension, which, although alleviated by the humor, should keep readers flipping the pages. Plot points are all neatly linked together, following each other so that everything makes sense.

The reader sees Amy change and grow, moving from insecure and unconfident to, as Sherlock depends on her for his safety, more sure of herself, bold, and challenging, yet still compassionate and good hearted. Amy has small triumphs along the way, which help the reader bond with Amy, cheer for her, and feel good. Amy’s and Sherlock’s relationship also brings good feeling; they each give something to each other. Amy helps protect Sherlock from an early death, and Sherlock helps bring Amy some friends and greater acceptance with her peers. Both learn from each other and protect each other.

There is so much humor in the book that works really well, from some of Amy’s reactions and opinions (such as Amy, instead of being surprised that Sherlock can talk is surprised that he is polite because he’s a dog), to Sherlock’s lack of understanding of how some things work in the world outside his lab which contrasts with his great intelligence (such as when he thinks that fish can talk and attend school because of the saying “schools of fish”). The children’s joint manipulation of their parents (so that the parents won’t suspect Sherlock or make him go back to the lab) and the misunderstandings that ensue becomes hilarious, especially because the reader is in on the joke.

There were only a few brief places where Amy’s language or insight felt adult or unrealistic, such as when she wonders if people are only around Kaitlyn, the bully, so they’ll lessen the chances of their being teased themselves.

The villain, Dr. Boden, is written well; he’s clearly cold and aggressive, but he’s not over-the-top. It’s also a relief to find that there is a reasonable adult in the ending who sees the bully and villain for what they are, and helps to save the day; not all of the adults are mean or insensitive or out of it; Dr. Shieber ends up being a real ally.

The ending is satisfying and enjoyable, as Amy and Sherlock get to remain together, each finding greater happiness and acceptance, and having overcome all their obstacles. Smart Dog may be particularly reassuring to readers, since the bully gets her comeupance, the villain is dealt with appropriately, and good wins out in the end.

Smart Dog is an enjoyable fantasy and a very satisfying read. It is a warm, feel good, laugh-out-loud book.

Highly recommended!

reviewed by Cheryl Rainfield

I just posted my review of Mrs. Biddlebox by Linda Smith and Marla Frazee (Harcourt, October 2007, ISBN-13: 978-0152063498) on my site. If you’ve never read a picture book by Smith or Frazee before, you’re missing out! Smith’s text is lyrical, vivid, and incredibly strong and well written, and Frazee’s illustrations are powerful, evocative, and sure.

If you’ve ever had a bad day or gotten up on the wrong side of the bed–or know someone who has–this is a book you’ll want to read. I loved it, and highly recommend it.

From my review:

Have you ever woken up grumpy without knowing why, or had a bad day? Mrs. Biddlebox has. From the moment she wakes up, everything feels wrong–even her breakfast is awful, with bitter tea and hard crumpets. So Mrs. Biddlebox decides that she’ll cook the rotten morning into a cake, and eat it. She gathers up the gloom, and everything else that’s made her day bad, and beats it into dough, becoming happier as she does so. The cake turns out sweet and merry, and so does her tea. She eats the whole thing, and welcomes in the night, feeling better. This book is a wonderful metaphor that will speak to anyone who’s ever had a rotten day, and it gives hope that you can make a bad day into a good one, or at least a good evening.

Smith’s (Mrs. Crump’s Cat) writing is powerful and dynamic, with a vivid voice. She uses strong, colorful words to make the story come alive, evoke a sensory or emotional response, and emphasize how Mrs. Biddlebox feels, even in her setting: “grubby little hill,” “A breeze blew dank and dreary.” Smith also uses partially made-up words (creakies, grumblies, whizzled) which bring a sense of fun, while still making intuitive sense. These two qualities–strong words and made-up ones that fit the context–make the text vibrant.

Strong verbs, precise descriptions and metaphors also add to the full quality of the text (”Mrs. Biddlebox slammed the door on morning”).

Smith’s text is written in rhyming prose, with the second and fourth line of every stanza rhyming with each other. Since not every line rhymes, this leaves some openness to Smith’s word choice and language, and helps the text feel unconstrained (as do the made up words). Smith never misses a beat; all the words feel carefully chosen for the way they work together, and the text has a lyrical quality to it.

Mrs. Biddlebox starts out with a problem–a rotten morning–but she solves this by deciding to cook the rotten morning and turn it into cake. We see her mood change from grumpy (”tromped out into morning,” “stabbed the dreary lot”) to a gleeful physical and emotional release as she punches, whips, and beats the dough, and then stomps it when it rises.

You can read my entire review here: http://www.cherylrainfield.com/picture-book-review_Mrs-biddlebox.html

I just posted a review of My First… by Eva Montanari (Houghton Mifflin, November 2007, ISBN-13: 978-0618646449) on my site. My First… is a delightful book that celebrates books, reading, and individuality, and it has a fantastic sense of pacing and build up of anticipation. If you like books that encourage reading, or you just like a good read, check this book out. I highly recommend it.

From my review:

Have you ever really wanted something for your birthday–something that everyone else seems to have–and then not gotten it? In My First… , that’s what happens to Alice. All her friends have dolls. Alice wants one, too. But instead, she’s given something her mother says is even better–it’s alive, it will tell her stories, and it will stay with Alice her whole life. Alice is disappointed, and pretends her gift is a doll. For a while, she gets away with it, hiding it in blankets in her baby carriage, telling her friends it’s asleep so they can’t look at it. Over time, Alice starts to really like her gift, and the stories it tells her and the way that it makes her think of her own stories. But then one day, her friends find a way to make Alice reveal what’s really in her baby carriage. They laugh at her when she tries to explain, and Alice runs away from them, angry and upset, but she soon finds that she really wants to find out how the story ends that her birthday gift–a book–has to tell her. She runs back to get it, and finds her friends curled up with her book, absorbed in its stories. So Alice sits down to join them, contented. My First… is a wonderful story with a great build up of anticipation that ends in a nice surprise, and a story that celebrates and encourages reading and individuality.

Montanari (A Very Full Morning) creates a delightful feeling of anticipation and suspense as she cleverly withholds exactly what Alice got for her birthday, instead of the doll she hoped for. Montanari instead focuses on details–on the attributes Alice wanted her gift to have that it doesn’t (no curls, freckles, or chubby little hands); on the ways that she hides her gift from her friends’ view (telling them he’s fragile, sick, or sleeping, which is why ‘he’ is wrapped in blankets), on how her gift acts with her and what he gives her (that he tells her stories, is polite, and never asks to hear her stories but makes her think of her own), and on the ways he is not like her friends’ dolls (does not have hair that will grow back, a loud voice, or a button to push to hear his voice). Montanari doesn’t divulge exactly what Alice’s gift is until two-thirds of the way through the book. This built-up suspense will have readers eagerly turning the pages to find out exactly what the gift is. I found such delight in discovering that Alice’s gift was a book. With Montanari’s skillful writing, it was both a surprise and a fitting revelation.

You can read my entire review here: http://www.cherylrainfield.com/picture-book-review_My-first.html

I’ve just posted a review of Go to Bed, Monster! by Natasha Wing, illustrated by Sylvie Kantorovitz (Harcourt, October 2007, ISBN-13: 9780152057756) on my site. Go to Bed, Monster! is a funny, sweet, and imaginative bedtime story–or any-time story. If you like Harold and the Purple Crayon, or drawings come alive, check out this book! I highly recommend it.

From my review:

Lucy doesn’t want to go to sleep–she wants to draw. Her drawing turns into a monster, and the monster comes alive. Monster wants to play and play, so much so that Lucy is soon tired out–but Monster is not. Lucy tries various ways to get Monster to go to sleep, but Monster won’t sleep, and keeps wanting things which Lucy draws for him–until finally Lucy comes up with a solution that helps put them both to sleep–a bedtime story.

Wing (The Night Before Kindergraten, The Night Before First Grade) cleverly turns the usual bedtime scene around, so that it is Lucy, the child, who has to cajole and soothe her Monster to bed (not the child’s parents cajoling or soothing her to bed). This reversal is funny. Go To Bed, Monster! is also about the power of imagination, and the ways imagination can entertain, soothe, and find solutions to problems. It’s Lucy’s imagination and creativity that brings Monster alive, and allows them to use everything she creates. The fantasy aspect of drawings coming alive or being able to be used is highly enjoyable–similar to Harold and the Purple Crayon–and will spark reader imagination and encourage creativity and art. This is a lovely, sweet bedtime story that has humor and a gentle playfulness.

Wing’s opening text is immediately gripping and interesting, with the problem stated emphatically in the second sentence “…could not, would not, did not want to go to bed.” Many readers will identify with that problem. Wing’s opening and closing text act as book ends; in the opening, Lucy doesn’t want to go to sleep, but instead wants to draw, in the closing, Lucy falls asleep with her drawing that came alive–and in between, the action occurs. This works well, and brings a satisfying feeling of having come back to the initial problem with a solution.

Wing has a good sense of timing; it works well to break up the sentence of what Lucy’s drawn shapes have become, so that the reader doesn’t see or hear the answer until they turn the page–a monster. This adds surprise, enjoyment, and brings a greater impact to the answer. That Lucy is not scared of the monster, even though all he does is roar when he first comes to life, is refreshing, helps the reader like Lucy more, and helps the reader see that Lucy is brave.

Wing never tells too much; she leaves some things up to the illustrator and the reader to figure out, which helps make the text work even better (for instance, when Monster has to go to the potty, Wing doesn’t tell us that Monster went; she just says that “Lucy drew a bathroom,” and adds a sound effect, and then goes on, in the next page, to Monster’s next demand. That, along with Kantorovitz’s drawings, work to tell us the whole story without telling details twice.

You can read my entire review here: http://www.cherylrainfield.com/picture-book-review_Go-to-bed-monster.html

I highly recommend it!