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Out of the Egg
by Tina Matthews
It's hard to be vindictive. You want so much to get back at the rude slobs who make your life miserable, the friends who leave you in the lurch. But is revenge really sweet?
Matthews updates the Little Red Hen and in a few lines plunges her into our modern ethical conundrums, where leaving cat, pig and rat in the cold won't do. Yet she doesn't let those bums off the hook, either.
Y'see, Little Red Hen not only tends her seed, then seedling, and then the tree, she hatches an egg. And the chick wants to play with the cat, pig and rat's offspring, only Mom's still sore about all the work the parent animals refused to do.
And isn't life like that? You don't want your kid playing with X because his parents are jerks. But how do you say no?
"Mum, that's MEAN!" says the little chick, and I felt sheepish right along with her. But how she gets back at the others -- and pulls the story full circle -- I'll leave for you to discover. It's clever and witty, and not mean at all.
Matthews pairs the story's simplicity with bare-bones woodcuts; heavy black outlines and splotches of red or green keep the eye riveted to the key figures. Even so, we get the clear idea that Pig's a trailer trash slut, Cat's a status-obsessed yuppie and Rat's, well, a rat.
Rating: *\*\*\
Mouse Shapes
by Ellen Stoll Walsh
Reviewed by Kelly Herold
Ellen Stoll Walsh???s Mouse Paint is my all-time favorite toddler book. So I was thrilled when Mouse Shapes arrived in my mailbox.
Walsh???s three inventive mice are at it again, maintaining constant vigilance against the ever present cat. This time???instead of cans of paint???the mice find a pile of shapes in which to hide. When the cat gets bored and disappears, the mice start making things from the shapes: a house, a tree and a sun.
When the cat pounces a second time, one of the mice says, ???That cat???s too sneaky???If only we were bigger.??? And another mouse has an idea???to make ???three big scary mice??? from the shapes and scare the cat away for good.
What I appreciate most about Ellen Stoll Walsh???s books for the youngsters is that she mixes the facts (colors, numbers, shapes) in with a whole lot of fun. The mice are perfect heroes???tricky, always inventive, but never cruel. Mouse Shapes is slightly more difficult than Mouse Paint or Mouse Count in terms of vocabulary and concept and is best suited to a three- to six-year old audience. Pair Mouse Shapes with shape stickers or fuzzy felts and you???re in for a great afternoon.
Rating: *\*\*\
Imagine Harry
By Kate Klise; illustrated by M. Sarah Klise
Reviewed by Kelly Herold
Little Rabbit has a best friend. ???Some of the other animals called Little
Rabbit???s best friend Imagine Harry. But Little Rabbit just called him Harry.???
Little Rabbit and Harry do everything together. They roll down hills, play in the snow, share
meals together with Mother Rabbit. Mother Rabbit sometimes tires of Harry???s whims, as Harry likes to stay
up late and doesn???t like his hair washed. When Little Rabbit informs Mother that Harry can???t eat brussels
sprouts, because he ???didn???t like the smell,??? Mother says, ???Your friend is starting to wear out his welcome.??? Poor Harry.
When Little Rabbit begins school, Harry has to sit with his
best friend at the same desk and be very quiet. Over time, as Little Rabbit makes more and more new friends, Harry absents himself from Little Rabbit???s life. In the end,
???Little Rabbit made many new friends that first year of school. He didn???t think about Harry very
much???except once in a while in the spring, when the smell of new grass reminded Little Rabbit of the hills he and Harry used to roll down together.
Harry loved doing that.???
As anywhere from one-third to two-thirds of all children have at least one imaginary friend before the age of seven (depending on which study you trust), Imagine Harry brings comfort to both the child and the adult reader.* Kate Klise???s poignant story is straightforward, compassionate and fun, while her sister???s warm illustrations are reminiscent of Clement Hurd in the best of all possible ways. (Little Rabbit even sleeps in a green room.)
Imagine Harry is highly recommended for all children ages three to eight.
_________________________________________
* I was, alas, one of the non believers at this age. I pretended to have an imaginary friend just to be cool, but I don't think that counts.
Rating: *\*\*\
The Pink Refrigerator
by Tim Egan
I'm a creature of habit. If my husband didn't move me cross-country every few years, I'd be covered in cobwebs by now. I like Dodsworth, the mouse in this story who owns a resale shop. His daily routine's enviable--he does just enough to get by, then relaxes and watches TV. This is bad?
Then on one of his daily rounds to the junk yard, he spies a discarded pink refrigerator with a note tacked on: "make pictures." Inside, he finds a sketchbook, paints and brushes.
He doesn't hit on instant inspiration, that day or any of the other days he goes back to discover different notes: "read more" or "play music" or, lastly, "keep exploring." His is a gradual awakening to the possibilities, until the refrigerator stands empty and the call to adventure must come from within Dodsworth instead.
This is a fine message for both parent and child, to challenge yourself with a few new amusements, preferably the artsy-fartsy kind that don't involve serious risk of injury. I took away from this the idea that you can enliven even an already happy existence without great expense, equipped solely with the desire to tap into some dormant creative vein.
Egan's muted colors and simple line drawings keep us on-message--clear away the clutter, focus on what's fun, and recapture some essential part of yourself. Dodsworth's the tweedy, dignified sort in his tidy, upscale little shop, and his transformation feels fully in character.
Rating: *\*\*\
Dizzy
by Stacy A. Nyikos; illustrated by Kary Lee
A few publishers have figured out my weakness for nature stories or those involving animals in their natural habitats. I've only ever lived in cities, where the wildlife happens indoors, and my natural habitat is pretty much confined to this desk. I enjoy a good jaunt outdoors if only vicariously via picture books.
One of the publishers I've adopted is Stonehorse, a newish upstart whose marine biology books blend scientific accuracy and captivating stories. Dizzy's the third effort for both publisher and author, which this time features a speedy, Pacific white-sided dolphin.
Not that I'd know any particular species of dolphin from a can of tuna, but Dizzy's a cheerful addition to the pantheon of loveable sea critters. If I'm reminded of the sharks in "Finding Nemo" who sneeringly dissed their cutesy rivals, it's only because middle age makes me cynical. I usually want to bite someone that smiley.
Fortunately, the whip-fast Dizzy gets a little less happy as he exhausts himself trying to catch up with a "fish herder" -- a sea lion who rounds up the catch of the day for the other carnivores. Along the way he learns a bit more about his friends' varied ocean habitats in cheery rhyming couplets.
This isn't one of those "and then evil humans messed everything up" story, so it feels almost a little too upbeat. A few toothy sharks would've helped. I might've liked to see Dizzy working at something more than his next meal, as Nyikos did so ably with an earlier story about a small shark who saves the day from, well, evil humans.
Even so, kids love dolphins and we love kids, and books like this always whet the appetite for a trip to the aquarium. If you're in Chicago, catch Nyikos at the Shedd Aquarium's gift shop on May 26 from 1:30-3:30 p.m.
Rating: *\*\
Leo le Chat Goes to School
by Opal Dunn; illustrated by Cathy Gale
I live next door to the Lycee Francais, and I'm forever bumping into towheads in navy uniforms, trailing their thin, effortlessly glamorous Moms. They gather in the nearby park like exotic birds, pecking at healthy snacks and chittering in rapid French.
They only serve to remind me of how my mother discouraged me from learning that language ("Spanish is more useful, you can talk to the cleaning lady") until I made a feeble stab at it in college.
By then it was too late; years of resolute resistance to all things Spanish translated into a tin ear for the language of romance, of Proust, of the Impressionists and all those fancy menus. In three trips there, I spoke about as well as Marcel Marceau--that is to say, I'm fluent in the language of manic hand gestures and panicked facial expressions.
Fortunately, this little book of first words and phrases comes with a glossary and pronunciation guide in back. Leo only speaks French, but you can lift little flaps to translate what he says. You have to tell him not to sit on the table or help him find his ball, whatever. The usual cute stuff. In French. And there's a series of these, by the way.
My son's learning Hebrew, however, and at age four is already correcting my pronunciation. That's okay, if I ever get back to Israel, I'll just brush up on my head-scratching and confused looks--the universal language of tourists.
Rating: *\*\
Fox
by Kate Banks; illustrated by Georg Hallensleben
There are kids' books and then there's children's lit-rahtoor. What's the diff? Aspirations, methinks. There are simply some authors and artists who aim higher, at something more poetic and profound.
Such is with Banks and Hallensleben, who team up again after their lovely The Great Blue House. As in that book, Banks aims for breathy, lofty free verse, in this case about a fox cub, but it doesn't always soar as gracefully:
They wait until the sun sets,
bloated by the weight of day.
I'm not too sure about that particular image, but at least she's firmly in the realm of symbolism and allegory, a rarity in books aimed for little kids.
This new volume also shares the passing of seasons as its controlling metaphor for the life cycle, as little fox matures and learns survival skills.
But this isn't a nature book, per se. You'll learn much about fox traits, but it hardly reads like a lesson plan. Banks' verses evoke, tease, hint and sneak up on their meanings:
He hears a distant howling.
The enemy is nearby.
The little fox moves toward the sound.
"No, fox, no," says his papa.
He leads the little fox deeper into the forest,
far from danger.
And the sound comes and goes.
And the silence grows to a peaceable hum.
Eventually, of course, little fox's constant noodging--"When will I be ready?" gives way to confidence, and he shows us all the way into the wide world.
Hallensleben once again channels Van Gogh to give us a painterly forest, rich in its play of light and shadow, brimming with eye-scorching colors lathered on with coarse strokes. It looks the way the best spa lotions feel--thick and emulsified, smoothing on in delightful layers as it tingles the senses.
Rating: *\*\*\*\
Sticky Burr: Adventures in Burrwood Forest
by John Lechner
I'm still a newbie at graphic novels, and unsure what divides the genre from the comic books I devoured growing up. Maybe it's the hard cover? Or that the creator mixes full bleeds, sequential boxes, straightforward narrative and every other arrow in the creative quill all at once?
Then again, quirky visuals as storytelling aids are as old as the novel itself, if you recall Tristram Shandy.
So I'm happy enough to embrace the suddenly-new-again-after-250-years format, particularly when it's as cleverly done as with the plucky little Sticky Burr, who keeps getting nettled in all kinds of trouble.
The other burrs are a prickly lot, if you'll pardon the pun, but not our ukelele-playing, paintbrush-wielding Sticky. But he's no pansy, that's for sure. You can count on him and his trusty sidekick, a dragonfly named Draffle, a resourceful duo who are quick on their, er, feet.
Lechner alternates the comic format with pages from Sticky's journal with tidbits about burrs, bugs, and other helpful asides as the action moves briskly.
But when the last adventure is finished, the village is saved and his nemesis shamed, is there a character arc here? No. Sticky's pretty much the same oddball seed pod at the end that he was at the beginning; it's the rest of the folks who've had a change of heart and are allowing him to stay, ukelele and all.
While I loved the way the story unfolded and the many clever lines, visual puns and inventive graphics, the story itself was decidedly eh. It amounted to little more than a bunch of adventures held together like beads on the same string. What if, say, the threat of being tossed from the village gave Sticky pause? What if he tried to change, but couldn't, and finally embraced his true self?
What if I stop reading too much into *&%$#@!! kids' books?
Rating: *\*\*\
Leaving the Nest
by Mordicai Gerstein
I'd been flipping through the slush pile, skimming a dozen or more books, wondering if I was simply getting jaded or if the books were really this dull, when one leapt out for its creative take on the coming of age/rite of passage plot.
A baby Blue Jay, a kitten, a girl and a squirrel all cross paths in the girl's front yard, beneath the spread of a shady tree. Each is exploring, on foot or bike or wing, and getting themselves into pulse-quickening danger. Will Baby Jay fall? Will Kitten catch him? Will the girl run them over? And Squirrel; what's she up to?
With everything happening at once and so much to see, each page becomes a place to stop, ponder, point, exclaim. Kids will enjoy finding each character on each page and updating their part of the story.
The acrylic and ink illustrations feature Gerstein's signature small, rapid, zig-zaggy brush strokes, big-eyed people and generous infusions of light and warmth across each two-page spread, with full bleeds. The tree frames the pages but also hems the characters in, a device that works wonderfully for building suspense as the chaos sorts itself out in such a tight space.
And when we need to look up into the tree, Gerstein turns the art around vertically, so it opens up-to-down. Clever.
One small nitpick: Gerstein uses speech bubbles as in comics, but awkwardly adds "says ____" to the quotes. I think we can figure out who says what, no? Maybe he's experimenting with a graphic-novel style but wasn't fully confident about a new genre--hard to believe given his artistic prowess.
Rating: *\*\*\
Another Gerstein book I've reviewed.
I'd Really Like to Eat a Child
by Sylviane Donnio; illustrated by Dorothée de Monfreid
Reviewed by Kelly Herold
There is something so refreshingly honest and upfront about Sylviane Donnio’s I’d Really Like to Eat a Child. Just the title alone tells you that this story is not another P.C. animal tale in which polar bears and babies snuggle together on a cold night. Nope, I’d Really Like to Eat a Child gives it to you straight.
Achilles the crocodile lives on a banana diet enforced by his Mama (and, possibly, P.C. animal stories everywhere). One morning Mama is worried when Achilles won’t eat his banana for breakfast. When Achilles announces--as well he should--that he wants a child to eat, Mama answers, “What an idea, my little Achilles!...Children don’t grown on banana trees, only bananas do and that’s what I have for breakfast.”
Dad tries to remedy the situation with a sausage brought back from the village. Achilles insists a child should be on the menu. Dad exclaims, “Come now, Achilles. There’s no such thing as a sausage made from children!” (Okay, call me sick, but that’s pretty funny. My kids thought it was a hoot too.)
Many foodish attempts are made until Achilles encounters a lovely little girl playing on a river bank. Achilles approaches slowly…until…the girl cries, “Oh! Look at that…A teeny-tiny crocodile! He’s awfully cute!” Poor Achilles. His hopes dashed, he runs home so he can eat as many bananas as possible. I’ll let you guess why.
Sylviane Donnio’s concept is great here—this book has the dark humor any three- to eight-year-old will appreciate. Dorothée de Monfreid’s cartoon-like illustrations are a perfect match as well. How she makes a teeny tiny crocodile’s expressions exactly mirror those of a recalcitrant toddler I’ll never know.
I’d Really Like to Eat a Child is highly recommended fun for adults and children who like a touch of the macabre with their humor. Don’t worry—no children were harmed in the making of this book.
Rating: *\*\*\
A Family for Old Mill Farm
by Shutta Crum; illustrated by Niki Daly
The lease on our 15th-floor shoebox will expire long after my patience, and I find myself wistful about someday owning another home. Where should it be? In a funky, ethnic urban neighborhood? In the suburbs, where we could spread out some? Or out in the country, where Brett could live his dream of growing organic veggies?
My son has all the answers, fortunately. He thinks we should move in with the bunnies and duckies in this story. He falls completely for the raccoon realtor's sales pitch as he woos different animal families with the charms of a rundown farm:
At Old Mill Farm,
beneath branches hanging low
there's a shimmering pool
with a dragonfly show.
Raise your babies here,
where the water lillies grow.
I'm sold! Move me in tomorrow.
Of course, there's also a human family, and their hunt for the perfect home alternates with that wily raccoon, who has a human counterpart in a real estate agent (in a matching orange coat). The human real estate agent's in rare form as she shows off all kinds of outrageous properties, including a lighthouse and a mountaintop manse that gives pregnant Mom the woosies.
No thanks, Dad keeps telling realtor lady. "Perfect!" Say all the animal Moms and Dads. I bet you know where this is headed: toward the farmhouse on Happy Ending Lane. You're right! Daly's watercolors make it clear that these nicey-nice folk don't belong anywhere but the countryside: they look like they jumped from a Land's End catalog, complete with earnest expressions and a floral print dress.
Crum alternates quattrains and couplets, which keeps the meter flowing evenly without becoming tedious, and even the family's growing exasperation is expressed as poetic longing for the open meadow. The lyrical quality makes for a singsong reading, and the frolicsome little boy in the story drove home the point that this could, someday soon, be my son.
Rating: *\*\*\
Scaredy Squirrel Makes a Friend
by Melanie Watt
Everyone's favorite neurotic rodent is back in this inaction-packed sequel to this Cybils-winning storybook. Bearing a nametag that says "HELLO My name is ... Scaredy" he timidly sets off with mittens, air freshener and a complicated map to find a nice, safe, non-biting friend with absolutely no sharp teeth whatseover.
As in the first book, we scrutinize his every preparation for his foray into The Unknown, knowing full well that something crazy will happen anyway. I absolutely refuse to give anything away, since Scaredy's loyal following might chase me up that nut tree with him.
What I will say is this: the first half of the book so closely echoes the original, you can't help avoid the "been here before" feeling. Watt again makes the most of a small format, with its compulsively neat layouts and hilarious use of diagrams, but it lacks some of its original punch for having seen it before.
The second half redeems itself with a truly unexpected twist that ties together all of these details while turning Scaredy's notion of the perfect friend on its shaggy head. There are as many yuks in the second half as in the first book, and Watt once again demonstrates a perfect pitch for kids. After all, who isn't terrified about making their first real friend?
Rating: *\*\*\*\
Love the Baby
by Steven L. Layne; illustrated by Ard Hoyt
It is perfectly okay to win over this reviewer with lavish flattery. Inscribe a book with all kinds of nice sentiments and I'm yours.
Both Mssrs. Layne and Hoyt stuck their John Hancocks on this for twice the sugar. So it skipped the slush pile and went straight to my test subject.
A not-too-exact transcript of our exchange:
Me: This is a book about you and how you get mad at your sister.
Seth: Yeah, she gets all of my attentions.
Me: You mean she takes Mommy's attention away from you?
Seth: No! She takes all of my attentions so that I don't get any.
Needless to say, Seth found an immediate ally in the little bunny driven hopping mad by all the fuss over the new baby. And the dogearring commenced at once.
The immediate thing I liked: this was quite obviously written by a Dad. Us Mommies are all about kissing away hard feelings, or using levity to dissipate the tension. But Layne tackles it square on. The narrator is one unhappy bunny, after all. The baby steals all those tummy tickles and special songs and block towers that are supposed to go to him.
Love the baby? Love this! So brother bunny fakes it, making all kinds of unhappy faces--until the baby's up all night, when Layne cleverly revisits all those special somethings, this time to help bond brother and brat.
Layne keeps his focus on the small gestures and everyday moments that mean so much to kids, which I think is what made it so real to my son. Feel free to steal Layne's idea for soothing sibling rivalry, which is quite obviously what he intended (though most days I'd settle for "At least don't kill the baby.")
Hoyt's jealous bunny boy should get an Oscar; his righteous suffering comes across in a full range of grimaces, scowls and pouts. At times he overdoes the pencil shading and everyone looks a bit jowly, but don't miss the family "snapshots" on the title page that give you a run-up to the opening, or the homey details in the rabbit warren.
Other books by this illustrator: I'm a Manatee.
Rating: *\*\*\
A Celebration: The Year of the Boar began Feb. 18th.
Chopsticks
by Jon Berkeley
A tiny mouse befriends a wooden dragon in this simple story that takes place on the Chinese New Year in Hong Kong Harbor. Anything is possible, and thanks to Berkeley's atmospheric description, it's easy for a child to suspend disbelief.
He paints whole scenes in a few lines of prose, so we're right down there with little Chopsticks, the mouse, as he scurries late at night in search of crumbs on the floor of a floating restaurant. It's an impressive place, with hundreds of windows and two enormous carved dragons guarding its mammoth entrance.
We might even tremble in empathy too when, one New Year's night, one of the dragons clears his throat and asks Chopsticks to draw near. Turns out he wants to confide his secret longing to Chopstick, and a friendship is born.
Berkeley's Hong Kong Harbor is a misty dreamscape, where an old carver in his sampam holds the secret to granting the dragon's wish. The dragon's a friendly sort, with big, cheerful eyes and a lopsided grin, and, like Chopstick, you instantly want to help him out.
His acrylics glow with filtered sunlight and streaks of gold radiate from gleaming surfaces. We're keenly aware of Chopstick's diminutive size amidst the bustle of the world's busiest harbor, but we never lose sight of the little fella' as he sets out to help his new buddy.
This is a perfect one for teaching about friendship, about good deeds, and about bringing your own sense of adventure to all you do.
Rating: *\*\*\
A Celebration: The Year of the Boar starts Feb. 18th.
The Great Race: The Story of the Chinese Zodiac
Written by Dawn Casey; illustrated by Anne Wilson
I knew the Chinese had a thing about cats. Hey, cat lovers, don't blame me, okay? I'm just telling you how it is. The Chinese and cats? No way!
So I knew Cat was in trouble from the moment this story opened. The Jade Emperor, who rules the sky, sets all the animals against each other in a great race. Finish first, and he'll name the first year of his new calendar after you.
I won't tell you what wiles Cat and his best buddy Rat use to sneak ahead of the others. Let's just say there's a reason they're no longer on speaking terms.
The story is surprisingly suspenseful (though not scary) and Casey has fun with animals' personalities. Don't miss the end notes; lots of great stuff on other Chinese holidays and a full spread about all the animals, their traits and which years they fall on.
I'm noticing some similarities between the illustrations in Barefoot Books; most use the same warm, enticing colors and childlike renderings, even across different media. Wilson uses paper collage with acrylic and printed backgrounds, but I found myself wishing for more of an overtly Eastern feel to it.
Rating: *\*\*\
Rocky and the Lamb
By Greg Gormley; Illustrations by Lynne Chapman
Reviewed by Ilene Goldman
The tiny, naïve lamb waving at a sneaky-looking wolf on the cover of Rocky and the Lamb made me laugh out loud. Chapman’s choice of colors and her detailed images add to the pleasure of this book from beginning to end.
“In a misty, murky, far-off land, a gloomy mountain stood,” begins our tale.
The sneaky wolf, Rocky, is pictured chilling with a cup of coffee while throwing rocks at a little bird. Greg Gormley’s choice of words is stunning in its color and simplicity. On the first page alone: misty, murky, gloomy, thorny, stony, and noble. This book is a word-lover’s dream, and not just for the adjectives. Gorman finds colorful verbs as well: trudged, wound, tiptoed, skipped, and struggled.
Simply put, the story delights—Rocky is a bully and Lamb is, well, a lamb. But the meek shall inherit the picture book, as it were. Lamb’s tenacious attention to her mission—delivering a splendid crown for the king’s birthday—is inspiring. She carries a tiny box that contains the crown and is guarded by the “scariest, hairiest monster you could possibly imagine.”
A chase ensues as Rocky tries to trick Lamb. She survives the steepest, rockiest paths even as Wolf gets battered attempting to rob her. Eventually, Rocky gets the box (If you don’t like spoilers, stop here). And out of the box pops a monster that threatens Rocky who is, of course, reduced to a cowering mess.
Who saves Rocky? Why, the lamb! She defends Rocky, saying that he followed her all this way to help her get to the palace. At the palace, the lamb tells everyone about nice Mr. Wolf. Mr. Wolf mends his way (this is a fairy tale, folks) and lives out the rest of his days helping rather than menacing travelers.
For any child (or parent) who has to deal with a bully at school (or at work), this story reminds us that charm, intelligence and kindness win out over brute force. And for those of us who live gloriously bully-free lives—it’s just plain literary fun with rich, gorgeously drawn pictures to entertain us.
Rating: *\*\*\
Who's Hiding?
Satoru Onishi
I love activity books that don't feel like activities. I prefer to trick my kids into doing something mind-bending and skill-building. Nothing kills initiative than turning learning into a chore, right?
So I love this little book of animal figures, 12 on a page, created with just a few colored shapes and black lines. First, you're introduced to the whole crew: Dog, Tiger, Hippo, Zebra, etc. On succeeding pages, you're asked to spot who's hiding on, say, a yellow page where Giraffe dispears from view (because he's yellow, right?) Then one animal might be crying, or sleeping, or turned around, all the way through the book.
You can teach them colors, shapes and animal names, and anything else that springs to mind on the simple pages. I'm hoping it gets my kids to notice more, to "read" illustrations and observe differences. Who knows? Maybe they'll even start noticing the mess on their bedroom floor.
Rating: *\*\*\
Scaredy Squirrel
by Melanie Watt
Kids are creatures of habit. You spend their all-important first years getting them (and you, slovenly, eat-cereal-for-dinner you) into a healthy routine. After you get the hang of the whole parenting thing, evenings go like clockwork from the first slap of the plastic dinner tray to the gurgle of bath suds down the drain and the assembly line of jammies, stories, lullaby and lights out.
Deviate from this schedule at your peril.
But everybody needs to rock their world sometime, even Scaredy Squirrel, who never ventures from his nut tree. Talk about obsessive-compulsive--Watt illustrates a list of horrors that lurk in the unknown, from green Martians to sharks. It's a smallish book, about six inches square, and she makes brilliant use of every inch, from the lists of the pros and cons of never leaving his treetop home, to an inventory of what's in his emergency kit.
We don't so much visit Scaredy Squirrel as dissect his neuroses up close, point by point, phobia by phobia, using repetition to hilarious effect, both in writing and in the charcoal pencil and acrylic illustrations.
Then he falls out of that dang tree. Wouldn't you know it, he turns out to be a flying squirrel. There's a lesson here that's just perfect for your kid's first attempt at swimming or gymnastics or anything else that gets them out of their comfort zone.
After you pick up the pieces, of course.
Rating: *\*\*\*\
