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The Apple-Pip Princess
by Jane Ray
Candlewick Press

You know how the fairytale goes. There are three sons or three daughters and the aging father or wizard or king will leave all he has to the wisest one, as determined by some task or other they must complete that will prove which one deserves to rule.

The oldest is usually ambitious, the second is vain and competitive, the third has a good heart. They each set about scheming or building or vying for the king's attention, but the third prevails through some simple act of kindness or previously unsuspected wisdom.

Think King Lear but without all those messy deaths.

Ray offers her colorful take of the old tale in a naive style, which emphasizes its folkloric origins. She uses a warm palette, perhaps drawing from a Mediterranean or North African palette (judging by the dark-skinned family, though of course that's beside the point). A handful of mixed media collages are skillfully placed for maximum comic effect when the bad siblings wreak their havoc.

Three princesses each possess something of their late mother's--two choose material things, the third picks a simple box, which she fills with such charming keepsakes as a burst of nightingale song or a splash of sunlight.  And, of course, an apple pip.

When the old king's challenge comes, Ray sets the stakes high: the land's been barren since the queen's death and devoid of birdsong or laughter. Each daughter has only a week to impress their still-grieving father. You're rooting for the youngest, Serenity, especially as the wicked older sisters only find ways to make folks more miserable.

Serenity doesn't fail in her mission, or in her ability to please readers too. She's a delight to watch in action, thoughtful and kind, and her smallest, simplest act of selflessness sprouts into something much larger than expected, as all good deeds in all good folk tales do. All her enchanted items get used in the process, but each has its payoff too. At no point does Ray belabor the message, and even the mean older sisters get a pleasant reprieve. 

Rating: *\*\*\*\

Minji's Salon
by Eun-hee Choung
Kane/Miller Book Publishers

I'm giving so many buds lately, I could be a florist. But I can't resist stories that celebrate girlhood with truly feminine flair. I think publishers are finally turning the page, so to speak, on the mini-amazons and boys-with-pigtails that passed as girl protagonists for so long. You don't need to climb trees or skin your knees for a great adventure, as Choung shows us in this charming peek at a girly girl's fantasy beauty parlor.

We first meet Minji peering into the salon. The story then alternates between the salon and Minji's home, where she's set up shop with watercolors instead of dyes and crayons for rollers--with the family dog as her customer. On the left-hand page is a woman getting her hair styled, on the right is Minji's colorful and messy mimicry. 

Dressing up is a rite of passage for girls--witness the Fancy Nancy phenomenon--and Choung's playful take should win the heart of the little one marauding your closet. Choung, a South Korean, has a decidedly Eastern style to her art, with flat figures on a white background. The subdued hues get interrupted by wild splotches of color, especially where Minji's our focus--underscoring how much of a whirlwind she must be.

Rating: *\*\*\

The Girl in the Castle inside the Museum,
by Kate Bernheimer; illustrated by Nicoletta Ceccoli
Schwartz and Wade

reviewed by Kelly Herold

Castle is a beautiful pearly-white onion. This dreamy picture book, aimed at readers ages three to seven, invites children into a layered world, and moves them from observer to participant in incremental stages.

The Girl in the Castle inside the Museum opens as a fairy tale would: "Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a castle." Then we discover that the castle is in a museum, inside a glass globe. "When children came to the museum, they pressed as close as they could to the glass globe in which the castle quietly sat. "

Once we look inside the globe, we learn more. The girl inside is sometimes lonely, but her world is beautiful and she takes pleasure in its beauty. She also dreams and tells stories.  Sometimes she even dreams about the reader and invites her into her world: "Now in her room and in her dreams, inside the castle inside the museum, inside this book you hold in your hands, you keep her company in a magical world. "

And the reader will want to keep the girl company. Berheimer's text is dreamy and rhythmic, drawing you in as the layers of the onion are peeled back to its core. And Ceccoli's illustrations? Swoon. Ceccoli's illustrations are heartbreakingly lovely and she has composed them with a childlike perspective--from above and looking in to the center. She has created a magical world a child will only be too happy to join. It's a world of lush browns, oranges, greens, roses, and grays. A world of Escher-like staircases and rooms with animate toys jumping and spinning around its center. A world with a magical, beautiful princess just looking for a friend.

I dare you not to enter the castle inside the museum.

Rating: *\*\*\*\

Mini Mia and Her Darling Uncle
by Pija Lindebaum
R&S Books

Only a Swede could come up with a book about a gay uncle that feels so, well, American.  He lives in a hip city that is obviously New York or San Fran or San Diego or, well, Miami, except that's where Mini Mia's M&D are off vacationing while various relatives babysit.

Uncle Tommy's her favorite, and no wonder. Lindenbaum draws the other three uncles and even grandma in the dullest beiges and grays, while Tommy leaps off the page with his multiple earrings, goatee and funky wardrobe. He dyes her hair a different color every day, takes her people-watching at cafes or to sad movies.

Of course she adores him, spending every parent-free moment with him, until boring, badly dressed Fergus shows up. He's obviously Uncle Tommy's new partner, though it's never stated. As an adult, I can appreciate what a momentous decision it is for Tommy to introduce his favorite niece to his beloved, but guess who has hissy fits, pouts, sulks, and generally makes everyone miserable? Thankfully, not Tommy or Fergus, or I'd have taken points for stereotyping.

Lindenbaum keeps a careful reign on Tommy's swishiness and what emerges is a grown-up/child relationship with a unique cast. I haven't googled it, but I'm pretty sure there aren't any other picture books about gay uncles. And yet if you substituted, say, a divorced Dad and his new girlfriend, it'd feel about the same, but without breaking such new and important ground in showing kids that grown-ups fall in love on their own terms.

What makes this book so American, despite its European origins (this is a translation) is the general blue-state sensibility toward gay men, that there's something inherently more fun about them, that their sexuality is a happy fact and in no way threatening, and no apology's needed for loud pants or disarming affectations.

Someday, inevitably, this sentiment will spread to red states, or at least to the more urbane parts. All the adoring Mini Mia's out there will make it so.

Rating: *\*\*\

The Silk Princess
by Charles Santore

Random House

Reviewed by Kelly Herold

Charles Santore takes an ancient Chinese legend about the discovery of silk from silkworms and turns it into a story of magic and adventure for the school-aged child.  Indeed, The Silk Princess is a picture book best suited for children who already enjoy The Magic Treehouse or The Spiderwick Chronicles.  It's a picture book for children
entranced by wonder of myth and enchantment.

Princess Hsi-Ling Chi is the lone and ignored daughter of The Emperor Huang-Ti.  Even though Hsi-Ling is an obedient and well-behaved child, she can never live up to her brothers in her father's eyes.

One day, Hsi-Ling is enjoying her tea in the royal gardens when a cocoon falls in to her tea.  The cocoon begins to unravel in the hot tea and Hsi-Ling tells her mother, "'I will tie this end of the thread around my waist, and you, Mother, will hold the cocoon.  I shall walk away from you, and we shall see how long this fine thread is.  I will go to the end of the gardens, should the thread reach that far.'"  The thread--not only a silk thread perfect for weaving, but also a symbol for one's first steps away from home--reaches much further from the garden.  Hsi-Ling walks as far as the Palace, the Holy
Mountains, and a bridge, under which a fearsome dragon lives.  When Hsi-Ling crosses the bridge and defeats the dragon, she meets an old man who teaches her the secret of silk thread and promises to accompany her home. 

Santore uses the language of myth and legend in The Silk Princess, never simplifying for the sake of genre. Moreover his palate is sophisticated--full of browns, oranges, reds, and dark greens--perfect for readers beginning to learn more about art.  What is most striking about the visual aspect of The Silk Princess is how Santore highlights Princess Hsi-Ling's face.  While all the characters are painted in a realistic style with
only slight exaggerations, Hsi-Ling's face is mobile and infused with light.  In every illustration, she is the focus as light and shadow play upon her beautiful, expressive face.

The Silk Princess is highly recommended for readers ages six to ten.  Don't be afraid to give it to older children as well--children who may be studying legend or China in the fifth and sixth grades.

Rating: *\*\*\

Purplicious
by Victoria Kann & Elizabeth Kann

HarperCollins

I don't normally review books that don't need my help. This book is everywhere. You can't escape it. No little girl can be without it these days. Even the boys have to read it to know what the girls are so obsessed about.

And that's the problem.

When a book about doing the unpopular thing becomes the popular thing, there's a certain cognitive dissonance going on. At least my head feels like it's exploding.

The character Pinkalicious returns from an eponymous prior book that I never read but which was turned into a Broadway play. It looks very much like a triumph of marketing over taste. (But then, what isn't? My kids have been subjecting me to Dora videos of late. Shudder.)

That isn't to say Purplicious doesn't deserve its popularity. Witty, tight writing keeps things moving, as does a strong conflict between mean popular girls (black is the new pink, dontcha know) and our fuchsia-obsessed heroine. It's perfectly pitched for girls instinctively ready to explore how soft power works--and wanting in, in a bad way. 

Pinkalicious is inconsolable at the teasing, in pages full of mixed-media pink pastiches, until she makes a friend as obsessed with--you got it--a certain shade that results from mixing pink with blue.

Now, purple is my favorite color. Always has been. My parents hated purple and painted my childhood room a very '70s shade of orange, which scarred me for life, and which is why I approached this book with so much trepidation.

It's made purple the favorite color of every Purplicious-toting tot I see. Sure, I'm happy kids today get opportunities I never had to express their unique personalities in exactly the same way as everyone else.

Yesterday, my toddler picked out fuchsia pajama bottoms with snowmen to wear with a green onesy and blue-striped socks. My retinas are still searing. But she's in that phase where she has to decide everything herself.

I hope it lasts forever.

Rating: *\*\*\

Fiona Loves the Night
By Patricia MacLachlan and Emily Maclachlan Charest
Illustrated by Amanda Shepherd

Reviewed by Ilene Goldman

A multitude of dots, like raindrops refracting against a dark glass window, bring Fiona’s night to life.  It is a night filled with the lilting sound of an owl who-whooing, the sparkling glitter of fireflies, and the velvety softness of moonflowers and angel trumpets.  Fiona’s almond-shaped face, lit up by smiling eyes, would set any child at ease in the dark of night. The title projects the underlying idea—Fiona is not afraid of the night. Her night is filled with sounds, smells, and sights to explore.

Fiona goes to sleep in her warm bed and then wakes up.  She gets up from her bed and wanders outdoors.  We see her plunge into profound darkness lit up by the eyes of the creatures that watch her. Beyond these creatures lies nothing but darkness. . Eventually, Fiona’s dog comes and escorts her back to the safety and warmth of her bedroom.

The lush illustrations, filled with bright eyes, looping lines, and pleasant typeface are comforting, but the story ultimately discomfits me. I suffer from insomnia and I walk the night. But I stay in my house when I do so. And I would hope that my child would do the same.  A book that encourages a child to wander outside in the middle of the night, well, it gives me the shivers.

Fear of the dark and wakefulness are real problems that children encounter.  As parents, we hope to find strong, loving books to help us through these problems. Not so long ago I reviewed Jonathan Bean’s At Night. I fell in love with his protagonist, a little girl, like Fiona, who is awake at night. Bean’s character makes herself a nest in her rooftop garden and falls asleep surrounded by the night that she, too, loves.  But, Bean’s girl is silently followed by her mother who watches over her. At Night is safe and warm.  Fiona Loves the Night, in contrast, unnerves me.

While Charlotte is not afraid of the dark, I’m always on the lookout for books that will help me conquer that fear when and if it develops. While Fiona Loves the Night is beautifully illustrated, the story simply doesn’t make me feel safe.

Rating: *\

NO BOWS!
by Shirley Duke Smith; illustrated by Jenny Mattheson

Peachtree

My hungry! My watch Care Bears! My dance Raffi now! My read book this one!

Can you tell we have a two-year-old in the house?

These are exact quotes, though I probably didn't add enough exclamation points.

Smith obviously interviewed my daughter for this book on a little girl with big opinions, who even has her same fondness for purple. Though I admit I misread the title and thought she was talking about bowing, as in the opposite of curtsying.

It's actually the kind you put in your hair, and the little girl insists "braids" instead. On each page, she lists the thing she hates (no puppy)  and when you turn the page, in all caps, are what she prefers (LIZARDS). Duke is wise enough to avoid true opposites, keeping us guessing, and the girl's choices remain true to her quirky, irrepressible character.

Even the ending, where she and her parents agree on hugs, at least, ties up the story in a big, sweet bow (or braid?) for appreciative little readers. The vocabulary is simple enough for toddlers, and I can see this eventually being released as a board book.

Mattheson pulls off the concept with a touch of '60s-retro simplicity, including a clever bird's eye view of the girl staring up at a dinosaur. And watch out for that lizard ...

Rating: *\*\*\

Red Butterfly: How a Princess Smuggled the Secret of Silk Out of China
by Deborah Noyes; illustrated by Sophie Blackall
Candlewick Press
Rating: *\*\*\

Little Eagle
by Chen Jiang Hong
Enchanted Lion Books
Rating: *\*\*\

Reviewed by Ilene Goldman

Inspired by Chinese legends of bravery, persistence, and compassion, these books seem almost made to pair with each other. Red Butterfly is about a princess who smuggles the secret of silk out of China. Little Eagle tells of a little boy who learns martial arts from his guardian and protects the secrets of Kung Fu. 

In each, the protagonists are growing into adulthood without the loved ones who raised them. Beyond beautiful illustrations and lovely language, these books offer Chinese characters, non-Western viewpoints, and a glimpse at a world we might not otherwise explore.   

Noyes spins Red Butterfly from the perspective of a young girl about to be sent from the home and family she loves dearly. Though the princess is a young girl, “still a child with [her] hair / yet cut across [her] forehead,” she knows that she may never see her family again. As her marriage to the king of Khotan draws near, she recognizes the splendors of her father’s kingdom and mourns their loss. As she says “Good-bye, small silkworm. /  Good-bye red butterfly,”  she knows that she “would give every silver hairpin, every jade carving and gold ornament / for one brush of southern mist, / one windy, silken promise– / that home be with [me] always.”

Ultimately, the princess’s longing causes her to risk grave punishment by having her maidservant weave the cocoons and seeds into her ornate hairdo for the journey to Khotan. We learn in the author’s note that her new kingdom protected her by guarding silk production as jealously as China did. While most children might not be able to empathize with the princess’s courage and risk-taking, they certainly understand the difficulty of leaving a beloved home and family, even for a brief time.

Like the silk and kingdom they portray, Blackall’s illustrations for Red Butterfly are luxuriously splendid.  Many of the garments are decorated like butterflies, paying homage to the creatures that provided the beauty and wealth of this culture. The kingdom is filled with joyous colors, light, and quiet. The princess’s face is darling, sweet and strong at the same time.  We can see she is a little girl and our compassion for her dilemma swells. When she makes her perilous decision, we see also her determination, disobedience, and will.  She’s a survivor.

Little Eagle is a young boy who is rescued by Master Yang, a legendary wise man in 15th Century China.  Master Yang learns that the boy’s parents were brutally murdered by General Zhao and he welcomes the boy into his home, becoming his guardian. One night the boy awakes and spies Master Yang practicing Eagle boxing, a specialized form of Kung Fu.  In the shadows, the boy diligently copies the Master’s movements. When he displays his strength and knowledge in a street fight, Master Yang is angry but proud.  He takes the boy on as his disciple, finally giving him a name, “Little Eagle.”

Throughout the rest of the story, the disciple learns from the master and, as these tales usually go, eventually exceeds his master’s strength and skill.

Years later, Master Yang and Little Eagle must use their Eagle boxing to defend themselves, and their extraordinary knowledge of Kung Fu, from the same General Zhao who murdered the boy’s parents. Though they win, Master Yang is mortally wounded.

Little Eagle combines a lovingly told story with paintings that fill the page with color and movement. Set in the era of a brutal leader, the images are darkly hopeful. The illustrations convey the heaviness of the historical moment with a shadowy autumnal palette; they also sing the optimism inherent in the relationship between the boy and the master through their elegant lines. As the boy learns his lesson, a two-page spread shows how “he worked very hard through the passing seasons. / Until he forgot fatigue / Until he overcame pain. / Until he no longer felt the weight of his body.”  The boy is shown balancing on pylons using only his heels as he does the splits, on one foot as he carries weights, on one elbow and the opposite foot, and on his head.

Little Eagle is left alone in the world, but he takes with him faith, wisdom, and strength. Master Yang has told him to use the secrets of Kung Fu only for good. We can imagine that he follows this last order because despite living in a dark time, he has been raised with respect and love.

Many children’s stories show perseverance in the face of disaster or the loss of one or both parents; I suppose nearly every fairy tale begins that way. Red Butterfly and Little Eagle (originally published in French as Petit Aigle) play on the universality of these themes by giving us Chinese folklore and art. The authors’ notes in each book provide background to begin a conversation or perhaps a family research project.

Other Book Buds reviews about Chen Jiang Hong.

Red Butterfly: How a Princess Smuggled the Secret of Silk Out of China
by Deborah Noyes; illustrated by Sophie Blackall
Candlewick Press
Rating: *\*\*\

Little Eagle
by Chen Jiang Hong
Enchanted Lion Books
Rating: *\*\*\

Reviewed by Ilene Goldman

Inspired by Chinese legends of bravery, persistence, and compassion, these books seem almost made to pair with each other. Red Butterfly is about a princess who smuggles the secret of silk out of China. Little Eagle tells of a little boy who learns martial arts from his guardian and protects the secrets of Kung Fu. 

In each, the protagonists are growing into adulthood without the loved ones who raised them. Beyond beautiful illustrations and lovely language, these books offer Chinese characters, non-Western viewpoints, and a glimpse at a world we might not otherwise explore.   

Noyes spins Red Butterfly from the perspective of a young girl about to be sent from the home and family she loves dearly. Though the princess is a young girl, ???still a child with [her] hair / yet cut across [her] forehead,??? she knows that she may never see her family again. As her marriage to the king of Khotan draws near, she recognizes the splendors of her father???s kingdom and mourns their loss. As she says ???Good-bye, small silkworm. /  Good-bye red butterfly,???  she knows that she ???would give every silver hairpin, every jade carving and gold ornament / for one brush of southern mist, / one windy, silken promise??? / that home be with [me] always.???

Ultimately, the princess???s longing causes her to risk grave punishment by having her maidservant weave the cocoons and seeds into her ornate hairdo for the journey to Khotan. We learn in the author???s note that her new kingdom protected her by guarding silk production as jealously as China did. While most children might not be able to empathize with the princess???s courage and risk-taking, they certainly understand the difficulty of leaving a beloved home and family, even for a brief time.

Like the silk and kingdom they portray, Blackall???s illustrations for Red Butterfly are luxuriously splendid.  Many of the garments are decorated like butterflies, paying homage to the creatures that provided the beauty and wealth of this culture. The kingdom is filled with joyous colors, light, and quiet. The princess???s face is darling, sweet and strong at the same time.  We can see she is a little girl and our compassion for her dilemma swells. When she makes her perilous decision, we see also her determination, disobedience, and will.  She???s a survivor.

Little Eagle is a young boy who is rescued by Master Yang, a legendary wise man in 15th Century China.  Master Yang learns that the boy???s parents were brutally murdered by General Zhao and he welcomes the boy into his home, becoming his guardian. One night the boy awakes and spies Master Yang practicing Eagle boxing, a specialized form of Kung Fu.  In the shadows, the boy diligently copies the Master???s movements. When he displays his strength and knowledge in a street fight, Master Yang is angry but proud.  He takes the boy on as his disciple, finally giving him a name, ???Little Eagle.???

Throughout the rest of the story, the disciple learns from the master and, as these tales usually go, eventually exceeds his master???s strength and skill.

Years later, Master Yang and Little Eagle must use their Eagle boxing to defend themselves, and their extraordinary knowledge of Kung Fu, from the same General Zhao who murdered the boy???s parents. Though they win, Master Yang is mortally wounded.

Little Eagle combines a lovingly told story with paintings that fill the page with color and movement. Set in the era of a brutal leader, the images are darkly hopeful. The illustrations convey the heaviness of the historical moment with a shadowy autumnal palette; they also sing the optimism inherent in the relationship between the boy and the master through their elegant lines. As the boy learns his lesson, a two-page spread shows how ???he worked very hard through the passing seasons. / Until he forgot fatigue / Until he overcame pain. / Until he no longer felt the weight of his body.???  The boy is shown balancing on pylons using only his heels as he does the splits, on one foot as he carries weights, on one elbow and the opposite foot, and on his head.

Little Eagle is left alone in the world, but he takes with him faith, wisdom, and strength. Master Yang has told him to use the secrets of Kung Fu only for good. We can imagine that he follows this last order because despite living in a dark time, he has been raised with respect and love.

Many children???s stories show perseverance in the face of disaster or the loss of one or both parents; I suppose nearly every fairy tale begins that way. Red Butterfly and Little Eagle (originally published in French as Petit Aigle) play on the universality of these themes by giving us Chinese folklore and art. The authors??? notes in each book provide background to begin a conversation or perhaps a family research project.

Other Book Buds reviews about Chen Jiang Hong.

Pssst!
by Adam Rex

Harcourt Children's Books

Reviewed by Kelly Herold

Adam Rex's Pssst! poses a straight-forward question: "What happens when a bunch of animals have been cooped up too long?" It's a question Rex's protagonist--a serious little girl with a cute short bob--must keep in mind during a visit to the zoo. The bored animals call to her from their cages, whispering "pssst."  Once summoned, the little girl is bombarded with absurd requests from the animals.  The bears want tires, the sloths bike helmets, and the penguins?  The penguins want paint, of course.  All that snow and ice? Bo-ring.

Pssst! is brilliantly structured.  Rex makes sure the little girl remains the focal point visually throughout the story.  When she strolls through the zoo, the zoo is rendered in quick line drawings, while she's fully formed. The impressionistic zoo also contrasts strongly with the little girl's conversations with the animals.  Rex illustrates each conversation in a one-page, six-panel comic style--a trick that forces the reader to slow down and focus on the conversations between the girl and the animals.  And, slowing down is worth it.  These interspecies conversations are deeply weird and very funny.  Consider, for example, this discussion between the little girl and a pair of turkeys:

Little Girl: Yeah. Yeah. What now?
Turkey 1: We Want Corn.
Little Girl: Hey...This sign says I can't feed you.
Turkey 1: We don't want to eat the corn.
Turkey 2: Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn
Turkey 1: We want to turn it into a clean-burning fuel.
Turkey 2: Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel
Little Girl: Um...Sure...
Turkey 1: Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn
Turkey 2: Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel

Little girl responds to the animals with a touching deadpan expression and does her best to meet the animals' inexplicable demands (though she does steer clear of the narwhal).

Adam Rex's Pssst! succeeds because its structure is as innovative as the text is humorous.  It's the perfect treat for readers ages 3 to 7 (and up).   If nothing else, young readers will learn to avoid conversations with bored animals at the zoo.

Rating: *\*\*\*\

Pssst!
by Adam Rex

Harcourt Children's Books

Reviewed by Kelly Herold

Adam Rex's Pssst! poses a straight-forward question: "What happens when a bunch of animals have been cooped up too long?" It's a question Rex's protagonist--a serious little girl with a cute short bob--must keep in mind during a visit to the zoo. The bored animals call to her from their cages, whispering "pssst."  Once summoned, the little girl is bombarded with absurd requests from the animals.  The bears want tires, the sloths bike helmets, and the penguins?  The penguins want paint, of course.  All that snow and ice? Bo-ring.

Pssst! is brilliantly structured.  Rex makes sure the little girl remains the focal point visually throughout the story.  When she strolls through the zoo, the zoo is rendered in quick line drawings, while she's fully formed. The impressionistic zoo also contrasts strongly with the little girl's conversations with the animals.  Rex illustrates each conversation in a one-page, six-panel comic style--a trick that forces the reader to slow down and focus on the conversations between the girl and the animals.  And, slowing down is worth it.  These interspecies conversations are deeply weird and very funny.  Consider, for example, this discussion between the little girl and a pair of turkeys:

Little Girl: Yeah. Yeah. What now?
Turkey 1: We Want Corn.
Little Girl: Hey...This sign says I can't feed you.
Turkey 1: We don't want to eat the corn.
Turkey 2: Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn
Turkey 1: We want to turn it into a clean-burning fuel.
Turkey 2: Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel
Little Girl: Um...Sure...
Turkey 1: Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn
Turkey 2: Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel Fuel

Little girl responds to the animals with a touching deadpan expression and does her best to meet the animals' inexplicable demands (though she does steer clear of the narwhal).

Adam Rex's Pssst! succeeds because its structure is as innovative as the text is humorous.  It's the perfect treat for readers ages 3 to 7 (and up).   If nothing else, young readers will learn to avoid conversations with bored animals at the zoo.

Rating: *\*\*\*\