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Bandits
By Johanna Wright
A Neal Porter Book – Roaring Brook (an imprint of Macmillan)
$16.99
ISBN: 978-1-59643-583-4
Ages 4-8
On shelves now

There has been inadequate use of raccoons in children’s literature. Seems to me that if you have a furry woodland creature with a homegrown mask as part of its fuzzy face, it’s a crime NOT to make it a creeping bandit at some point. I mean, raccoons basically live up to their sneaky looks anyway. They turn over folks’ garbage cans. They lark about when the world is dark. Over the years I’ve seen the occasional book here and there give these creatures of the night their due, but few have done it quite as beautifully as Johanna Wright’s Bandits. Having discovered Ms. Wright when she wrote the utterly odd and charming The Secret Circus, Bandits proves to be an evocative follow-up. As amusing as it is to read (and it is amusing) Wright’s original eclectic style also makes this one of the stranger and yet more beautiful recent picture books out there. A funny mix of unreliable narration and sweet family life, these bandits are the ones you’ll think of from here on in whenever you spot a raccoon’s telltale face.

“When the sun goes down and the moon comes up, beware of the bandits that prowl through the night.” Traveling en masse, a family of raccoons begins its evening of mini larceny. Raiding garbage cans and stripping the apples from the topmost branches of trees these sneaky petes are clearly under the impression that they are villains par excellence. Even when their ramblings are discovered by (highly amused) humans they believe that they’re in possession of some pretty choice “loot”. And when the sun comes up, the family goes inside to sleep and read some books. “But just until the sun goes down.”

Part of what makes the book so charming is that while the raccoons appear to be entirely of the opinion that they are master thieves stealing great treasures from their unsuspecting victims, in truth their capers are fairly innocent and their “treasures” items that folks don’t need (like the garbage) or don’t mind losing (like the fruit from the trees). I mean, when you get down to it, the sneakiest things these “bandits” do, aside from knocking over the odd garbage can, is to brush their teeth in somebody’s fountain. Booga booga! I love that the writing in this book is clearly from their perspective too. Even as the pictures make it clear that you’re dealing with some pretty tame criminals, they’re trying to impress you with their daring. At one point you read, “They baffle the fuzz with each little trick” while the picture shows the raccoons tiptoeing past an old hound dog that couldn’t be less interested. And multiple readings of this book yield multiple ways to grow fond of the raccoon family unit. After all, there are some scenes of them relaxing in their home, their thoughts far from their pilfering ways. Reread the bo

The Princess and the Pig
By Jonathan Emmett
Illustrated by Poly Bernatene
Walker & Co. (a division of Bloomsbury)
$16.99
ISBN: 978-0-8027-2334-5
Ages 4-8
On shelves now

The princess craze is a relatively new phenomenon. I’m sure that little girls have pretended to be princesses for as long as the occupation has existed, but the current concentrated capitalization on that desire has taken the obsession to a whole other level. You can’t enter a toy department these days without being bombarded with the idea that every little girl should wear pink, frilly, sparkly costumes and woe betide the child that might prefer a good unadorned set of overalls instead. Naturally, all this sank into the world of picture books after a while. Stories like The Paper Bag Princess were now being ignored while the latest pink monstrosity would suck up all the attention. So you can probably understand why I was a little reluctant to pick up The Princess and the Pig at first. My first instinct was to just throw it on the pile with the rest of the princessey fare. Fortunately, I heard some low-key buzz about the book, making it clear that there might be something worthwhile going on here. Thank goodness I did too. Ladies and gentlemen, two men have come together and somehow produced a book that thumbs its nose at the notion of a little girl wanting to be a princess. In fact, when it comes right down to it, this is a tale about how sometimes it’s difficult to tell the royalty from the swine. Now that’s a lesson I can get behind!

The day the queen didn’t notice that she dropped her baby daughter off of the castle’s battlements could have been horrific. Instead, it led to a case of switched identities. When a kindly farmer parks his cart beneath a castle so as to take a break, he doesn’t notice when a flying baby lands in the cart and launches upward the cart’s former inhabitant, baby piglet. The piglet lands in the baby’s bassinet and the queen, seeing a change in her daughter, is convinced that an evil fairy must be to blame. Meanwhile the baby, dubbed Pigmella, is promptly adopted by the kindly farmer and his wife. She grows up to love her life while Princess Priscilla, a particularly porcine royal, pretty much just acts like a pig. Years later the farmer and his wife figure out the switcheroo but when they attempt to right a great wrong they are rebuffed by the haughty royals. So it is that Pigmella gets to marry a peasant and avoid the chains of royalty while Priscilla has a wedding of her own . . . poor handsome prince.

Normally I exhibit a strong aversion to self-referential fairy tales. You know the ones I mean. The kinds of stories that act like the Shrek movies, winking broadly at the parents every other minute whether it serves the story or not. And certainly “The Princess and the Pig” never forgets for a second that it is operating in a fairytale land. The king in the queen in this book have a way of using fairytales to justify their already existing expectations and prejudices, constantly holding them up as the solution to their every problem. Rather than feel forced, the royals’ silliness is utterly consistent with their characters. It was only after I reread the book that I realized that while they are under the distinct impression that every problem beg

Come to Bed, Red!
By Jonathan Allen
Double Digit productions
Kindle Edition
File Size: 6845 KB
For ages 4-8
Available now

Each year I like to review one independently published title. In an era where even review journals like Kirkus have a section dedicated to self-published titles, it’s always a good idea to give some credit to the folks out there who do well on their own. Finding something to review, however, can be tricky. For every hidden gem there are mountains of schlock to sift through. Recently I decided to cheat. I went with an author/illustrator I already knew. Years ago Jonathan Allen, a British fellow, came out with one of the best little storytime readalouds ever to cross the pond. I’m Not Cute! followed the adventures of a Baby Owl intent on proclaiming to the world that he was “a huge and scary hunting machine”. Recently Allen decided to go the digital route, publishing the new bedtime fare title Come to Bed, Red! on Kindle. The book utilizes Allen’s customary fluffy protagonist fare with that hint of snark that always keeps things interesting.

Bedtime has come at last and Red Panda’s mama is calling her little one inside. Unfortunately, every time she tells him to come he explains that he’s just about to break his record in pinecone tossing, or just about to balance a stick on his nose for his longest time yet, OR just about shake off the last two leaves on the branch. When Red’s cries of “Just a minute” prove to be too much for his mother in he comes at long last. Then it’s time for a story, but every time Red tries to get his mother to come into the bedroom and tell him one she’s doing something else. When she finally does trot in, Red comes to the realization that while some things are worth waiting for, others should be done ASAP. A nice Author’s Note at the end explains a little bit about red pandas and how Mr. Allen got the idea for the book.

Allen’s protagonists like to proclaim things. The aforementioned Baby Owl, for example, is never happier than when he can say that which he is not. That’s probably why his titles say things like, I’m Not Sleepy! and I’m Not Santa! Other characters exist in titles that protest, Don’t Copy Me! and a very forthright Banana! (kind of a non sequitur, that one). Come to Bed, Red! is no exception and its hero is just as obstreperous. Kids reluctant to call it a day will find a kinsman in Red Panda. Now, of course, the slight danger here is that some kids will go on and learn the phrase “In a minute” from

Everything Goes on Land
By Brian Biggs
Balzer & Bray (an imprint of Harper Collins)
$14.99
ISBN: 978-0-06-195809-0
Ages 3 and up
On shelves now

There is much to be said for simplicity. The elegant understated picture book that contains peaceful moments of serenity with the idea that a child might get lost in the image of a single field during a snowstorm, say, for hours at a time. Yes indeed. Nothing like it. There is much to be said for simplicity, but let me level with you. When I was a kid I liked quiet books, but only when my craving for the wild, colorful, frantic, and fast-paced had been fulfilled. It’s easy to swallow Tasha Tudor when you’ve supped first on some Seuss and Scarry. Part of what I love about picture books is that there’s room for all kinds. The long and the short. The classic and the new. The understated and, in this particular case, the overwhelming. Brian Biggs has brought to life the literary equivalent of Pop Rocks and Pixie Stix dissolved into Jolt Cola. A hugely entertaining, entirely loving citywide romp that puts the author/illustrator on the map and (I predict) will be impossible to pries from the hands of many a vehicular loving tot.

In the first few panels we see a boy and his father hop into their car and take off. Onto highways, off ramps, and finally into the big city. The two take note as they drive of all the kinds of vehicles they see. Different kinds of cars and bicycles. An array of motor homes and motorcycles. Trains and trucks. Buses and subways. Basically if you can think of the method of ground transportation, it’s in here somewhere. Biggs breaks up his incredibly detailed city scenes with close examinations of the vehicles in question. You might see the different parts the bicycle on one page or the way a motorcycle comes together on another. Finally, we learn about the duo’s ultimate destination and then it’s a quick jaunt home yet again.

No surprise that Mr. Biggs loved to pieces his copy of Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks and Things That Go when he was a kid. This book feels like nothing so much as the lovechild of Richard Scarry and Robert Crumb with a healthy dose of Mark Alan Stamaty for spice. I explain. The Scarry comparison is obvious. One of the great joys of his books is that in the midst of great big city scenes you can find small storylines and continuing gags. Like Scarry, Biggs makes a point of identifying vehicles of different types and kinds. Yet he also

Belle, the Last Mule at Gee’s Bend: A Civil Rights Story
By Calvin Alexander Ramsey and Bettye Stroud
Illustrated by John Holyfield
Candlewick Press
$15.99
ISBN: 978-0-7636-4058-3
Ages 4-8
On shelves now

Certain historical figures inspire multiple generations of children’s authors to go a little hog wild and pig crazy writing up their lives for general posterity. The biography section of my children’s room, like many out there, suffers from an overabundance of Lincoln/Edison/Washington/etc. bios. Even utterly worthy folks like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. get a little overdone, causing one to wonder why folks even bother. Do authors keep writing about the same five folks because schools concentrate only on those people and therefore it is more lucrative to give them credit over and over again? How hard is it to find new takes on overdone cultural heroes? Enter Belle, the Last Mule at Gee’s Bend by Calvin Alexander Ramsey and Bettye Stroud. Shelved in the fiction picture book section of your local library, the book actually places the bulk of its attention on a true moment in history, little remembered in schools and textbooks. Though it is couched in a made up story, Ramsey and Stroud have found a way to give Dr. King’s legacy a new tale and take. The end result is a book that may straddle the line between story and truth, but there will be few who argue that it straddles the line between good and bad.

Alex is bored. His mom has dragged him along to Gee’s Bend so that she can buy a quilt, but while she’s doing so he’s stuck on an old porch with nothing to look at but an old mule chomping on somebody’s garden of collard greens. When an old woman joins him on the bench and introduces herself as Miz Pettway Alex inquires as to why the mule is allowed to eat all the greens it wants. She explains that Belle isn’t just any old mule. Back in the day when segregation was rampant Dr. Martin Luther King visited Gee’s Bend. After encouraging the residents to take the ferry the people find that the white folks in Camden across the river are so intent to deny the vote that they’ve closed down the ferry. Undeterred the Benders had their mules pull them along and around the river the long way. Later when Dr. King died, Belle and a mule named Ada were selected to pull his coffin along its funeral route. Of course state policeman tried to stop the mules from arriving, but when it was clear that there would be a national incident if the mules were not taken to the funeral, state troopers escorted the animals the rest of the way. That is why Belle, for all that she’s a mule, is important. As Alex himself says, “even an old mule can be a hero.” An Author’s Note explaining the true history of this incident alongside a photograph of the actual mules pulling Dr. King’s coffin, is included at the end.

Many is the children’s librarian who has picked up a work of historical fiction like this and encountered what can only be described as Needless Exposition: The Book. Let me describe it to you. In such a book a child character walks up to an adult and asks something along the lines of, “Grandpa what was World War II / Jim Crow / The Bay of Pigs?” (take your pick). Then the adult tells them what they want the reader to know and there you go. Instant book. Such stories don’t always make a lot of sense either. Oftentimes you’ll encounter a narrator who by all rights would have been told such

What Animals Really Like
By Fiona Robinson
Abrams Books for Young Readers
$15.95
ISBN: 978-0-8109-8976-4
Ages 4-8
On shelves now.

I’m sitting in a room with other children’s librarians. Together, we are attempting to determine what the best children’s books of a given year are. It’s late in the publishing season and we haven’t a lot of time left when one of us walks in with Fiona Robinson’s What Animals Really Like. None of us are familiar with Ms. Robinson’s work (though we’ve heard nice things about The 3-2-3 Detective Agency) so our expectations are pretty low. The librarian who has the book, though, informs us in no uncertain terms that this is one of the best of the year. She then proceeds to read it aloud. Ladies and gentlemen, there are few finer pleasures that being read a picture book that works. I don’t care if you’re 5 or 55 or 555. Everyone likes storytime and many people like learning about great new picture books through readalouds. By the time the librarian was done it was unanimous. We were in love with What Animals Really Like and ready to join Fiona Robinson’s fan club, should someone ever feel the urge to start one. And trust me, after this book gains a bit of a following, folks are going to be lining up around the block to start organizations in honor of its author/illustrator. You want a surefire storytime gem? Baby, I got your back.

Maestro Herbert Timberteeth has written a brand new song going by the name of “What Animals Really Like”. For this one time performance he has assembled a chorus of some twelve different groups of animals. At the start, all goes according to plan. The lions reluctantly sing, “We are lions, and we like to prowl.” Next a tepid, “We are wolves, and we like to howl.” “We are pigeons, and we like to coo.” Finally, “We are cows, and we like to . . . dig.” There stand the cows holding various digging accoutrements and looking very pleased. Herbert, suffice to say, is not amused. He’s even less amused when the warthogs suddenly declare mid-song that they like to blow enormous bubbles. As the book continues, more and more animals start to sing what they really like to do, rather than what society expects them to. And though it causes him some serious stress, Herbert eventually lets everyone sing what it is that they really like, even though it doesn’t rhyme or, sometimes, make a lot of sense.

I’m a sucker for any book that upsets expectations. Kids are so used to picture books that allow them to guess the rhyme that when they encounter a book that turns that idea on its head they’re initially flummoxed, and then soon delighted. Not many picture books have the guts to do this. The best known, to my mind, is Mac Barnett’s Guess Again!, which takes the idea to its logical extreme. What’s nice about Robinson’s book is that while it’s not as downright goofy as Barnett’s, the upset expectations serve the story. In a way, all readers are automatically placed in the shoes of Herbert Timberteeth. We may not iden

Little Chicken’s Big Day
By Katie Davis and Jerry Davis
Margaret K. McElderry Books (an imprint of Simon & Schuster)
$14.99
ISBN: 978-1-4424-1401-3
Ages 4-8
On shelves now.

Are there any picture book catchphrases that have entered the cultural lexicon? I’m serious in asking this, but I’m a poor judge of what everyone knows. When you spend your days reading lines like “He was a big FAT caterpillar” aloud and then find yourself working those phrases into your everyday speech, you’re not exactly the best average consumer. Still, even I know that when you look at the great picture book classics, they may be great books but you don’t hear words or phrases from them showing up in late night talk show opening monologues or anything. Leno isn’t throwing out a “Let me drive the bus!” reference and Conan isn’t bringing up Madeline’s line to the tiger in the zoo. The closest I can come up with might be Goodnight Moon and its lulling lines. If a comedian starts saying, “Good night” in a variety in different ways, folks know what they mean. Otherwise, there’s not much. Maybe Little Chicken’s Big Day will change all that. Because when it comes to memorable lines, I suspect Katie and Jerry Davis are going to go down in history for inspiring a whole generation of kids to chirp cheerily to their parents, “I hear you clucking, Big Chicken”.

It’s early in the morning and it’s time for Little Chicken to get dressed, wash his face, and get ready for the day. Each time his mother tells him these things he comes back with a prompt, “I hear you cluckin’, Big Chicken.” Then it’s off to have some fun. Yet while following his mother Little Chicken gets pretty distracted. A lovely butterfly catches his eye and next thing he knows he’s alone. Fortunately, mama’s not far away calling his name, to which he replies (all together now) “I hear you cluckin’, Big Chicken.” Then home and bed and when her baby whispers, “I love you, Mama” it meets a gentle “I hear you cluckin’, Little Chicken.”

The given story behind the book’s creation is that co-author Jerry Davis worked or knew a fellow employee who, when asked to do anything by his boss, would reply “I hear you cluckin’, Big Chicken.” It really was a natural fit for the picture book format, though of course the tone is entirely different. In the original format it was a snarky line. Here it does have a bit of cheek to it at first, but as it goes each version of it has a different meaning. Cheeky first. Bothered next. Overjoyed the third time. Loving at last. On a personal level I appreciated the fact that they removed the “g” in the word “clucking” too. The story itself is really just there to hang on the already existing phrase. We’ve loads of stories for kids about getting separated from a parent and finding them again, but they kind of blur together a

The Fabulous Flying Machines of Alberto Santos-Dumont
By Victoria Griffith
Illustrated by Eva Montanari
Abrams Books for Young Readers
$16.95
ISBN: 978-1-4197-0011-8
Ages 6-10
On shelves now

The American publishing industry is good at a lot of things. They produce some pretty delightful fare for children on a variety of different topics. If you want vampires or stories of cute puppies or twists on fairy tales then you are in luck. If, however, you’re looking for something about people who are famous in countries other than America, I have bad news. We’re not that great at highlighting other nations’ heroes. Oh, you’ll see such a biography once in a rare while but unless they’re a world figure (Gandhi, Leonardo da Vinci, etc.) we’re not usually going to hear much about them. Maybe that’s part of the reason I get so excited when I see books that buck the trend. Books like Victoria Griffith’s The Fabulous Flying Machines of Alberto Santos-Dumont. The other reason is that in a greedy way I get to learn about new historical figures along with the child readers. Alberto Santos-Dumont, for all his charms, is not exactly a household name here in the States. Credit where credit is due, then since author Victoria Griffith is doing what she can to remedy that problem.

If you were a resident of Paris, France in the early 20th century you might have glanced up into the sky to see one Alberto Santos-Dumont in his handy dandy dirigible. A transplanted Brazilian and fan of the power of flight, Alberto was friends with Louis Cartier who bestowed upon him a wrist-based alternative to the pocket watch. Now he could time himself in the sky! Determined to create an official flying machine, Alberto announces the date and location that he intends to use one to take to the sky. But when sneaky Louis Bleriot arrives with the intention of stealing Alberto’s thunder, the question of who will go down in the history books is (ha ha) up in the air.

I’m having a bit of difficulty believing that this is Victoria Griffith’s first book for children. To my mind, writing nonfiction picture books for young readers is enormously difficult. You sit in front of a plate of facts with the goal of working them into something simultaneously honest and compelling for kids. Taken one way, the book’s a dud. Taken another, it does its subject justice. Griffith, for her part, takes to the form like a duck to water. The first sentence is “Alberto Santos-Dumont loved floating over Paris in his own personal flying machine.” After the first few pages don’t be too surprised if the kids you’re reading this book with start wondering why exactly it is that we don’t have our own personal dirigibles (this question is promptly answered when we learn that Alberto’s preferred mode of transportation had a tendency to .. um… catch on fire). Deftly weaving together the invention of the Cartier watch with Alberto’s moment in history, Griffith manages to create compelling characters and a situation that lets kids understand what was at stake in this story.

She also places Alberto squarely within his context in history. In the book we learn that while the Wright Brothers did fly at Kitty Hawn before Santos-Dumont, because their flight needed assistance then it wasn’t really flying. Griffith prefers to explain this not in the text but in the Author’s Note, but I think that’s fair. As long as you make clear to kids that there can be two different opinions on a

Hopper and Wilson
By Maria van Lieshout
Philomel Books (a division of Penguin)
$16.99
ISBN: 978-0-399-25184-9
Ages 4-8
On shelves now.

Inspiration comes in a variety of different forms though family is probably best source. One author might write a picture book and make all the monsters in it the relatives they knew growing up. Another might write a tale based on an amusing catchphrase picked up by her husband. In the case of Hopper and Wilson, author Maria van Lieshout found inspiration when her father and brother found home. Apparently the two went on a sea voyage once and proceeded to get lost. The story has a happy ending since the two came back, wiser and more appreciative of the place they left behind, and so Hopper and Wilson finds its footing. A quiet tale of safe journeys, returns, and friendship, this is the bedtime book you’re looking for when bathtime has come and gone.

Hopper the elephant and Wilson the mouse wonder one day what exactly they might find at the end of the world. Determining that there’s a good chance of finding lemonade there, the two set out in a little boat with only a red balloon for company. Along the way they are caught up in a sudden squall and the two friends are separated. Wilson searches high and low for Hopper, until at last a friendly bird leads the two to one another. Continuing their journey (minus one red balloon) they find themselves back at their old dock. The end of the world is also the beginning. And for that the two of them could not be happier.

Until now the books both written and illustrated by van Lieshout have consisted of small, specialized little stories. Bloom is a tale of two little pigs searching for love while Peep is of the first flight/graduation gift variety and Splash about having a down day. Compared to these Hopper and Wilson plays out like a veritable epic tale. As epic a tale as toys ever have, of course. There is, you see, a stitched quality to Hopper and Wilson. You can make out the long stitched lines on both of their bodies. There’s a comfy, cuddly quality to them. Hopper in particular seems to have rather relaxed stuffing, probably from a lot of hugging over the years. Theirs is a world right out of Winnie-the-Pooh. Of small tragedies, lemon trees, the occasional pet cactus, and the discovery that the end of the world is also the beginning.

The watercolors in the book definitely drill home that dreamlike quality. Van Lieshout has a great deal of fun conjuring up the colors of stormy seas and yellow early morning skies. There’s one moment at night when Hopper and Wilson stare up at the stars and the red of their balloon is reflected oh-so-faintly in the deep dark blue waters below. And I, for one, would lo

Never Forgotten
By Patricia C. McKissack
Illustrated by Leon and Diane Dillon
Schwartz & Wade
$18.99
ISBN: 978-0-375-84384-6
Ages 4 and up
On shelves October 11, 2011

The more I read children’s literature the more I come to realize that my favorite books for kids are the ones that can take disparate facts, elements, and stories and then weave them together into a perfect whole. That someone like Brian Selznick can link automatons and the films of Georges Melies in The Invention of Hugo Cabret or Kate Milford can spin a story from the history of bicycles and the Jake Leg Scandal in The Boneshaker thrills me. Usually such authors reserve their talents for chapter books. There they’ve room to expound at length. And Patricia McKissack is no stranger to such works of fiction. Indeed some of her chapter books are the best in a given library collection (I’ve a personal love of her Porch Lies). But for Never Forgotten Ms. McKissack took tales of Mende blacksmiths and Caribbean legends of hurricanes and combined them into a picture book. Not just any picture book, mind you, but one that seeks to answer a question that I’ve never heard adequately answered in any books for kids: When Africans were kidnapped by the slave trade and sent across the sea, how did the people left behind react? The answer comes in this original folktale. Accompanied by the drop dead gorgeous art of Leo & Diane Dillon, the book serves to remind and heal all at once. The fact that it’s beautiful to both eye and ear doesn’t hurt matters much either.

When the great Mende blacksmith Dinga found himself with a baby boy after his wife died he bucked tradition and insisted on raising the boy himself. For Musafa, his son, Dinga called upon the Mother Elements of Earth, Fire, Water and Wind and had them bless the child. Musafa grew in time but spent his blacksmithing on creating small creatures from metal. Then, one day, Dinga discovers that Musafa has been kidnapped by slave traders in the area. Incensed, each of the four elements attempts to help Dinga get Musafa back, but in vain. Finally, Wind manages to travel across the sea. There she finds Musafa has found a way to make use of his talent with metal, creating gates in a forge like no one else’s. And Dinga, back at home, is comforted by her tale that his son is alive and, for all intents and purposes, well.

McKissack’s desire to give voice to the millions of parents and families that mourned the kidnapping of their children ends her book on a bittersweet note. After reading about Musafa’s disappearance and eventual life, the book finishes with this: “Remember the wisdom of Mother Dongi: / ‘Kings may come and go, / But the fam

The Cazuela That the Farm Maiden Stirred
By Samantha R. Vamos
Illustrated by Rafael Lopez
Charlesbridge
$17.95
ISBN: 978-1-58089-242-1
Ages 4-8
On shelves now

I am lucky to work in a children’s room with a significantly sized bilingual section. The books you’ll find there cover a wide range of languages. Chinese, Arabic, Urdu, you name it. Of them the largest section by far is the Spanish language section. Of course, what we don’t really include in this section are books that integrate Spanish words into English text, though the stories are predominantly in English. There really isn’t a name for this kind of book, which is a real pity since they serve a definite use. Now you can go about integrating Spanish and English any old way you prefer, but Samantha Vamos has you beat. According to the back bookflap “Samantha R. Vamos was cooking one day when the idea for this book popped into her head.” The idea goes beyond a mere food related plot and ends up being one of the most creative ways of working Spanish elements into a work of English I’ve seen in years. Top off the fact that the art is enough to give your jaw a downward plunge, and I’d say you were dealing with one of the cleverer picture books of the year.

Are you familiar with the cumulative tale format? Well Ms. Vamos takes the idea and twists it a little. A variety of different farm animals aid a farmer and a farm maiden as they work together to make some rice pudding. A donkey picks limes, a duck buys sugar, a hen grates, and by the end everyone has done their part. Of course, in the midst of some dancing the pudding almost gets out of hand, but our heroes are able to save it in time. The end of the book includes a Glossary of Spanish Words and a recipe for the pudding.

I’ll say right here that the way in which Vamos has seamlessly integrated Spanish words into her text is extraordinary. Until now the standard method of doing this was just to throw the words into random sentences and cross your fingers. Best case scenario, you end up with something like Gary Soto’s Chato’s Kitchen. Worst case scenario and the words become jarring and needless. The trick Vamos uses here is to take the cumulative format and make it work for her. Normally a cumulative story doesn’t shake up the words. It’s the old House That Jack Built idea. This did this, that did that, it did it, etc. But Vamos has a different idea going on here. She starts out with an English word on the first reading, then switches that word to its Spanish equivalent when it’s repeated. So the first sentence in the book reads “This is the pot that the farm maiden stirred”. Fair enough. Turn the page and suddenly you read, “This the butter that went into the Cazuela that the farm maiden stirred.” You see what she’s

The Book That Zack Wrote
By Ethan Long
Blue Apple Books
$11.99
ISBN: 978-1-60905-060-3
Ages 4-8
On shelves now.

I have a theory. Bear with me here. My theory is that whenever there is a literary phenomenon in the teen or middle grade chapter book world, you see little echoes of it in the picture books as well. So, for example, after the rise of Twilight I enjoyed seeing kids checking out multiple copies of books like Dear Vampa. After Harry Potter the picture book The Wizard by Jack Prelutsky made the New York Times bestseller list. And I can only dream that in the wake of The Hunger Games we’ll see an influx of interest in post-apocalyptic easy reader fare (Are You My Mother has always had an odd end-of-the-world feel to it, don’t you think?). Young kids see their older siblings into a kind of book and they immediately want to be a part of that. The publishers acquiesce and there you go. Trends for kids of all ages. One book that I haven’t mentioned in the midst of all this is Diary of a Wimpy Kid. We’ve seen a slew of Wimpy Kid imitators cluttering up our middle grade shelves over the last few years, but surprisingly few picture books of the same ilk. With that in mind, I was delighted to see The Book That Zack Wrote by Ethan Long. Written in a notebook fashion, this cumulative tale takes an old and, frankly, tired concept and turns it entirely onto its head. Plus it includes a penguin craving goldfish. That right there is worth you cold hard cash.

You’re familiar with The House that Jack Built? Well, this is similar. When it begins we see that “This is the pig that oinked in the book that Zack wrote.” Fair enough. Next page and “This is the fox that scared the pig that oinked in the book that Zack wrote.” The book, for that matter, is a lined notebook where a crayon drawn fox has now launched itself at the aforementioned pig. Next page and “This is the frog that kissed the fox, that scared the pig, that oinked in the book that Zack wrote.” You get the picture. Keep turning the pages and more ridiculous animals join into the fray. It all comes to a head when, without warning, we read, “And this is the GIANT PURPLE MONSTER” who proceeds to eat everyone. The monster&rsqu

My Name Is Elizabeth
By Annika Dunklee
Illustrated by Matthew Forsythe
Kids Can Press
$14.95
ISBN: 978-1-55453-560-6
Ages 4-8
On shelves September 1, 2011

The human capacity to garble a first name, even a simple or common one, is without limit. I should know. My name is Elizabeth. My preferred nickname is “Betsy”, which is not intuitive. Generally speaking, one should never assume what another person’s nickname is. In my day I have shouldered countless calls of “Liz”, more than one “Betty”, and the occasional (and unforgivable) “Eliza”. Still, my heart goes out to kids with fresh and original names that get mangled in the garbled mouths of well-meaning adults. For them, the name “Elizabeth” may seem simple in comparison. Yet as My Name Is Elizabeth! makes clear from the get-go, there is no name so simple that someone can’t butcher it in some manner.

Elizabeth loves her name. Who wouldn’t? It has a lot of advantages, like length and how it sounds when you work the syllables out of your mouth. The downside? Everyone just gives you whatever nickname they think suits you. If it’s not Lizzy then it’s Beth. If it’s not Liz then it’s something “Not. Even. Close.” like Betsy. At last Elizabeth can take it no longer. To the general world she declares her full name (“Elizabeth Alfreda Roxanne Carmelita Bluebell Jones”) or Elizabeth if you like. Finally, everyone gets it right. Even her little brother (though she might bend the rules a bit for his attempted “Wizabef”).

One has to assume that any author with the first name “Annika” would know from whence she speaks with a book like this. Kids don’t have much to call their own when they’re young. Their clothes and toys are purchased by their parents and can be changed and taken away at any moment. Their names, however, are their own. Some of them realize early on that these names have power, and that they themselves have power over those names. They can insist that they be called one thing or another. They cannot make anyone actually obey these requests, but they can try, doggone it. A lot of kids fantasize about changing their names, but Elizabeth embraces her name. Her beef with nicknames wins you over because there is something inherently jarring about being given the wrong label. We are inclined to become our names, even when we don’t want to.

This story contains a tiny cry for independence by a character that is insistent without being bratty. In the end, Elizabeth proves to be a grand role model for those kids. She’s precocious without being insufferable (a rare trait in a picture book heroine). I like the lesson she teaches kids here too. It’s easy to let the world make assumptions about you and walk all over you. And it’s particularly hard to stand up to people when they are wrong but well meaning. You might be inclined to let their mistakes go and not raise a fuss, but when you claim your own name you claim how the world sees you. This book highlights a small battle that any kid can relate to.

The two-color picture book is not unheard of these days but it is less common that it was back in th

Lola’s Fandango
By Anna Witte
Illustrated by Micha Archer
Narrated by The Amador Family
Barefoot Books
$16.99
ISBN: 978-1-84686-174-1
Ages 4-8
On shelves September 1, 2011

In my children’s room at the library the requests I receive at the reference desk from kids and their parents vary widely. On the subject of dance there’s a lot of variety. If kids want a picture book about dancing, they usually know what kind of dance they have in mind. Ballet. Tap. That sort of thing. However, since the rise of family friendly dance-related television shows like So You Think You Can Dance? kids are now discovering that there’s a whole world of dances out there that they might never have known about. It gives a gal hope, particularly when I get to see books like Lola’s Fandango. Here you have a great story with an abundance of Spanish words and great art that makes you sit up and take notice. If you’re looking for a book that’s a little bit different, this one’s got your number.

Things are rough for Lola. Her older sister Clementina has everything better. First, there’s her awesome name. Then there’s her ability to draw. On top of that is her great hair, her friends, her room, the list goes on and on. Lola would love to have at least one thing to make her special . . . and then she finds her mother’s flamenco shoes. Instantly Lola is intrigued. Her mother doesn’t dance anymore, of course, but her father used to and he’s willing to teach her. In secret then Lola learns to dance, and when her mother’s birthday arrives, Lola may have the perfect gift. But will she have the guts to perform in front of a crowd? The book comes with an audio CD of the text.

When you write a picture book it tends to be good to have more than one idea floating about your story. Which is to say, if you’re writing a tale like this one and you want to make it about a little girl who learns a new dance, I would highly recommend doing what author Anna Witte does here. Which is to say, add in the jealous younger sister element. Because Lola is envious of her older sister’s life and accomplishments (typical stuff like wanting to draw as well, have as nice a head of hair, have friends over, etc.) she has the impetus to want to distinguish herself in some way. If the book were merely a story about a girl who wants to learn to dance and chooses this kind, it wouldn’t really carry the same oomph, so to speak.

One element of the book that was interesting to me was Lola’s desire for a polka dot dress to dance in. It’s important to me that Lola accept that she will dance for her mother, stage fright fears or no and then receive the polka dot dress as a present. If the dress came too soon then the point of the book might be taken as “you can do anything your heart desires . . . as long as you sport the right clothes”. Some kids will take away that message anyway, but at least it can be easily corrected by simply pointing out to them that Lola agrees to dance before finding out that there’s a present in the offering.

I was rather taken with Witte’s writing in this book too. As a German raised in Spain who has lived in the States for at least eighteen years, she has a good ear for the picture book format. The book reads slightly longer than the younger fare out there. Think Patricia Polacco rather than

Do You Know Which Ones Will Grow?
By Susan A. Shea
Illustrated by Tom Slaughter
Blue Apple Books
$16.99
ISBN: 978-1-60905-062-7
Ages 4-8
On shelves now

Because I’m a librarian I like to slot books into distinct categories. Alphabet book. Concept book. Emotions book. So on. Other people like it too. That’s why I keep a file of different lists of books by topic at my reference desk. There are some books that don’t fit into any category, and that’s fine. They’re cool. They prove that the publishing industry today allows for creativity. Then there’s a third category; books that belong to categories where they are the sole occupants. Meet Do You Know Which Ones Will Grow by Susan Shea. If I were going to label its category it would be “Interactive picture books that set up false pretenses so that kids can knock `em down”. That’s a lot of words, but that’s okay. I like books that make you work a bit, and the delight of this title is that aside from the great art, it’s an original and fun premise. The lift-the-flap meets the concept book.

“If you look around you’ll see, / Some things grow like you and me.” Kids know that they’re growing but what else does so? With rhyming text Susan Shea asks kids if one thing grows, will another? For example, “If a cub grows and becomes a bear can a stool grow and become . . .” Lift the flap and the stool elongates as the text finishes with “a chair?”. Time and again living things are paired with inanimate and the readers are asked if they will grow. Finally at the end of the book all is made clear (“Yes to cows. Yes to snakes. No to plows. No to cakes.”) With great panache the book is an entirely new look at growing things and what it means to be more than just big.

We generally associate lift-the-flap books with the very youngest of cogent readers. When I do a toddler storytime, I like to include one lift-the-flap book, partly because there’s no replicating the look of sheer surprise on a kid’s face when they see a page shift and change. I get a kick out of that. Yet there’s nothing saying that the magic of lift-the-flap leaves a kid when they enter preschool and beyond. The act of reading a paper book is an act of continual discovery. With every lift of a page, you have a story progress in time. Lifting a flap is very much the same kind of activity, except in this case you are revealing a truth that is both part and not part of that particular page. In the case of Shea’s book, the flaps reveal untruths, in a sense. The flaps sometimes reveal something true, but generally they’re showing things that are false.

Is this a problem? That’s the real concern with the book, I guess. Some parents might worry that the book is teaching their kids that caps grow into hats and all that. Sure, there’s a portion at the end where all becomes clear, but by the time you get back there, wouldn’t “the damage be done”? Not as such. It’s important to note, though, that the book isn’t telling you that a shovel will become a plow or a watch a clock. Rather they’re asking the reader. It’s allowing a certain level of interaction between the parents and their children. A kid is asked “if this, then this?” And as the parent goes through it with the kid they can correct them themselves. Some people feel that a book for kids has to do all the work for yo

I Want My Hat Back
By Jon Klassen
Candlewick Press
$15.99
ISBN: 978-0-7636-5598-3
Ages 4-8
On shelves September 27th.

I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! When Caroline Stutson’s Cats’ Night Out was released by Simon & Schuster in 2010 it contained art by an animator going by the moniker of Jon Klassen. And frankly I just thought it contained some of the slickest art I’d seen in a picture book in a long while. I hardly even noticed that he was the same guy behind the pictures found in The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place by Maryrose Wood. Still and all, until now he hadn’t illustrated his own book. I was fairly certain he might at some point, and I wasn’t sure I’d be looking forward to it. I mean, I thought the man was grand, but could he tell a story? Well, turns out I was right about the fact that his art is magnificent and now, with the release of his first author/illustrator picture book I Want My Hat Back, Klassen shows once and for all that his storytelling talents match his illustration technique pound for pound.

A bear has lost his hat. To find it he questions a variety of woodland creatures including a fox, a frog, a turtle, a possum, a dear, a snake and a rabbit. The rabbit, for the record, refuses to acknowledge having seen the hat in spite of the fact that he appears to be wearing it. And when the bear realizes the true culprit there will be a price to pay. A deeply amusing price. Painted with Chinese ink and digital art, Klassen’s book falls into that growing category of subversive picture books out there. What makes it stand out, however, is how beautifully put together it all is.

A criticism leveled at the aforementioned Cats’ Night Out involved the expressionless faces of Klassen’s kitties. Here you had a book where felines engage in a variety of different dances, yet their faces retain the exact same universal look of deep concentration. I thought it was a hoot. Other folks felt it made the cats too cold and static. So it will be with great interest that I watch the critical reception of I Want My Hat Back. That is because here, being expressionless isn’t just the name of the game, it’s a comedic technique. Klassen can do more with the set of this bear’s head than most artists do with entire bodies. And watch how the eyes work in this book. For most of the spreads the bear and other animals are looking right at you. All that changes the instant the bear lies on the ground, despairing of ever finding his hat again. Now his eyes, and the eyes of the other characters, are looking at one another. It isn’t until you get to the final coup de grace that you realize that the bear is looking at you once more.

As I mentioned before, Mr. Klassen is one of those animators-turned-picture-book-artist. Usually when you encounter one of these (like, say, Tony Fucile or 10 Comments on Review of the Day: I Want My Hat Back by Jon Klassen, last added: 5/28/2011