Book Buds Kidlit Reviews

Boys town

A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever
by Marla Frazee
Harcourt Children's Books

Two boys, James and Eamon. A cabin on the beach. A nature camp. Sounds perfect, right?

Well, of course. Especially when the cabin belongs to Eamon's indulgent grandparents, Bill and Pam, who have their own quirks and a fondness for penguins.

Frazee's narration and pictures don't line up exactly, to hilarious effect: when James shows up with a few items, we see a mountain of boxes. He's never been away before. And when the text says he's sad to see his mother go, we see him waving with enthusiasm. The narration flows along what perhaps Bill and Pam or other adults (that's probably us) might like to see, while the art shows the boys tussling or play-acting or watching TV until their eyes bug out.

They're not trouble-makers; it's all innocent, boyish fun, involving lots of make believe and sleepovers and heaps of ice cream. Oh, and penguins.

Frazee has a light touch for kids' humor, focusing on key details and mood in her art, where the two boys come to resemble each other even as Bill merges their names into Jamon. The text's in all caps, and looks handwritten in the same black pencil Frazee uses for her meticulous lines that create shadow or link illustrations or outline the boys skinny, constantly moving bodies.

The narration is also rich in detail, fleshing out its simple premise with the trivia of the boys' days, maintaining its earnest, sincere tone even as the boys make a hash of things.

Rating: *\*\*\*\

Other books by Frazee reviewed here.

A crazy time of it

What's Going On?
by Elena O'Callaghan; illustrated by Africa Fanlo
Kane/Miller

Hmmm ... the household's falling to pieces. Mom and Dad used to be so efficient, so on top of things, until about three months ago. Now Dad wears mismatched shoes, the place is a wreck, Mom puts bug spray in her hair. Whaaaa?

That's one little boy's reaction as his whole house is turned upside-down. Graph paper's used to give Fanlo's mixed-media creations a retro feel, but a bit off-kilter, like the Jetsons having a series of bad hair days. One one side--Then--is how things used to be: squeaky clean kitchen, ultra-calm parents. On the opposite--Now--is Mom wobbling under armloads of laundry or Dad missing the easy shots in soccer.

Of course, you'll know exactly what's happened in the last three months, but let's not spoil the surprise. The narrator is clueless, an unusual trick to see pulled off so convincingly in a book for very little kids, but they'll have fun figuring it out in the last page or so.

And you can always point out what caused your tot's parents to lose their last shreds of sanity. They'll probably think that's pretty funny too.

Rating: *\*\*\

Nuts and bolts

Baby Brains and Robomom: The Smartest Baby in the Whole World
by Simon James
Candlewick

I was going to save this one for Mother's Day, but, heck, shouldn't we get a tribute every day?

This is no treacly tribute to a gauzy, pastel-hued, idealized Mom. Mrs. Brains eats fish and nuts while pregnant and gives birth to a mercury-addled, cholesterol-padded freak. No, wait, that's wrong! Bad Anne.

She gives birth to a super-smart inventor type, in a wry nod to all of us overeager parents of would-be wunderkinds.  

But Baby Brains' also blessed with extraordinary empathy in how he notices the fatigue he causes his folks for looking after their budding brainiac. Wish my kids had some of that DNA.

A night of serious tinkering and voila! Introducing Robomom, who looks like an oversized can opener on caterpillar tracks and who does all the things parents do, but better, and without complaint. That's okay, it's not exactly up to the rigors of Mommyhood, which is what gives this book it's unexpected hilarity.

This is actually the third Baby Brains book, but Simon smartly doesn't assume we've met the characters before. His cartoon illustrations keep the tone light to match the story, which rips along to its witty and ironic ending. Parents will like how they're portrayed (especially Mom) and four-to-eight year olds should find its silliness perfectly pitched.

Rating: *\*\*\

POETRY FRIDAY A step between brothers

Oh, Brother!
By Nikki Grimes; illustrated by Mike Benny

Greenwillow

One of the most powerful poetic storytellers has done it again. With a few keystrokes, a rhyme here and there, she's woven a moving story of how two very different boys become brothers in more than name.

We don't learn the narrator's name--Xavier--until late in this collection, but we do get plenty of his opinions about his mother's remarriage. He loves his new Dad, but not the boy, Chris, who comes as extra baggage, getting in the way, acting all perfect, taking up space, throwing his small family off balance:

STEPS
Everyone in this house
is a step, now.
Stepmom.
Stepdad.
Stepson.
Stepbrother.

In my mind,
I turn them into steps
I can climb
And when I reach the top,
I rule.

Several of the poems are told in rhyme, others are simple, quick dabs of free verse, meant to convey a fleeting emotion. Few kids' poets are as adept as Grimes in exploring their emotions with such range and empathy, and in so few words.

At last, the two boys have their breakthrough, and if you're not crying as their bond strengthens, you're probably dead. And when we do learn the narrator's name, as Chris practices writing it, Grimes creates a magical moment for Xavier to grow. She respects her character enough to know he probably has a tough time expressing emotions, and instead gives us his actions:

I swipe his pen
and write H-E-R-M-A-N-O
"Huh?"Chris can be slow.
"It means brother," I say.
"That's my name now,
one you already know how
to spell."

We know immediately what's going on in Xavier's head, because Grimes respects our intelligence too. 

Benny's illustrations follow through on Grimes' many hints that this is a multiracial family--Latino and African-American--but this could be any boy's blended family today. Kids have a tendency to recover, to patch together a new life and a mended heart. Grimes takes us there, until we want to adopt this new family and make it our own.

Rating: *\*\*\*\

A kid with a mouthful

Oliver Has Something to Say!
by Pamela Edwards; illustrated by Louis Pilon

Lobster Press

We all know a few late talkers. My daughter was one. She got off to a promising start at 11 months, when she said "ball." But then her entire conversational ouevre consisted of "ball" for another 6 months.

Oliver's from that same mold, and like my little girl, the problem can be found in talkative siblings and parents. What does Oliver have to say, really, when everyone around him is yakking non-stop? Especially when they make up his mind for him?

Except by age four, Oliver's pretty much had it. He does, indeed, have a few opinions--if he ever gets a chance to express them. His bossy big sister even blows out his birthday candles (which would have courted disaster in our house). It takes a no-nonsense pre-school teacher to coax Oliver to open up, and then he can't be stopped.

Sure, there are lots of stories about kids getting their say, but they're usually pitched to teenagers. This one's aimed at the little siblings who get overlooked, and gives parents a nice tool for prying a few peeps out of them.

Of course, in our case, my daughter now won't shut up, but that's another story.

Pilon's cartoon-like drawings aim straight for the pre-school crowd, keeping this story aimed at the audience most likely to gaze in awe when Oliver finally opens up.

Rating: *\*\

Dancing his troubles away

The Only Boy in Ballet Class
by Denise Gruska; illustrated by Amy Wummer

Reviewed by Kelly Herold

Being the boy who likes ballet—or figure skating, or clogging, or, well, you get the picture—is never easy. When you’re the boy who likes ballet, you’re usually the only boy in your dance class. And that's the least of your problems. Often, other boys at school will make fun of you. And, surely, there’s a disapproving relative—an uncle, or a grandmother, or a parent—who will try to convince you that ballet is simply not appropriate for boys.

Enter Denise Gruska’s The Only Boy in Ballet Class, a book for those children who love something so passionately they can’t help but following their dreams. “Tucker Dohr loves to dance ... The other kids think he’s weird, but he can’t help it. It feels right to him. Like breathing.”

Tucker loves to dance so much that he tries to ignore the fact that he’s the “last one picked for softball. And basketball. And volleyball. He tries to pretend that he doesn’t care. He reminds himself that he’d rather dance anyway.” But we all know ignoring only helps so much when you’re in grade school. The small print in parentheses tells us, “But sometimes he has to cry about it at night when he’s alone.”

The boys playing football are the cruelest to Tucker and he has to endure their taunts on the way to his afternoon class each time he attends. But, and this is what I like best about The Only Boy in Ballet Class, the bullying is simply a conflict and a fact of life, not the focus of the story. Tucker’s love of dance and his passion for movement stays front and center and, thanks to Amy Wummer’s charming and accessible illustrations, comes through to the reader. We dance with Tucker when he needs to “leap over Marbles” (the family cat) or “spin past his tricky, tricky twin sisters.” We feel Tucker’s joy in movement and want to dance along.

Sprinkled with an offering of ballet terms, Gruska’s text is lively and will appeal most to readers ages four to nine. Her resolution of the bully conflict is unexpected, but fitting with Tucker’s joyful nature and the magic of dance. The Only Boy in Ballet Class is for all the “different” kids of the world and should be required reading in the first through third grades.

Rating: *\*\*\

Poor Pluto, but lucky us

The Planet Hunter: The Story Behind What Happened to Pluto
by Elizabeth Rusch; illustrated by Guy Francis

Rising Moon

I boast a stargazer or two in my household. My son has rocket ship sheets on his bed, glowing stars on his wall and a real telescope my husband props on the balcony when they feel like braving the icy winds off Lake Michigan.

This book didn't last two seconds out of the package before both my little spaceman and my big one were hunched over it, reading, pointing and exclaiming. Something about the hubbub over Pluto really gets amateur astronomers going, and mine aren't the only ones.

In case you've been living on an asteroid, Pluto got bumped from the planet club last year after astronomers decided there were too many other Pluto-esque balls of ice and rock floating around the same neighborhood. It just wasn't special enough after all.

Nothing could make such a phenomenon hit closer than dramatizing it as a personal quest. Rusch cuts through the science and brings us a gripping, highly readable story of one persistent, likable young astronomer determined to find another planet in the Kuiper belt at the very fringes of the solar system.

We follow Mike Brown from his boyhood making moon craters in his muddy backyard to his adult years and the ingenious system he developed to detect new heavenly bodies using an old observatory telescope. How exciting to see his discoveries one by one, laid out in funny side notes that explain their names (he dubbed one "Santa" after the red-suited Christmas visitor) and some weird facts about them. We feel his excitement--and determination--build as he wonders what, exactly, he's stumbled upon.

There's no ending to spoil; Brown's adventures go on and on. Somewhere out there, peering into space, the man who forced a re-examining of certain celestial truths is still happily mapping his piece of heaven.

Rating: *\*\*\

It's all in the stars (and popcorn)

The Magic Rabbit
by Annette LeBlanc Cate

Candlewick Press

Picture books have gotten so sophisticated, they now dip heavily into the same inkwell as graphic novels, with illustrations zooming off in their own narrative directions. The text often has to catch up--a clever tactic designed to keep kids scanning the art for clues.

If you're just reading this text and whizzing past the scratchy black-and-white drawings, you're missing the most dramatic parts of a simple tale of a street-corner magician and his bunny.

Ray's gray, grubby little apartment's crammed with magic props, posters and esoteric knick-knacks, where the only spots of color are bright yellow stars and popcorn. We see Ray loading his magic wand with the former, while Bunny munches on the latter. They're best friends, do everything together, and share a career entertaining park goers in this busily realized urban setting.

The written text sketches out the plot--you have to watch out for that juggler in the park, the one with the pug on his head wheeling his unicycle as Ray readies his big trick. After their big crash, that pug's chasing poor Bunny straight out of the picture frame.

Bunny eventually picks up a trail of stars and popcorn, but if you've been paying attention, you spotted the trail's beginnings much earlier, with sightings of a tiny, forlorn Ray in the background as a terrified Bunny wanders the city alone.

The New Yorker-style illustrations actually teach the rudiments of storytelling to wide-eyed kids who notice everything. Foreshadowing, suspense, cause and effect--it's all here, carefully and elegantly laid out in pen and ink.

Rating: *\*\*\

Two books about bravery from China

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.

Losing his marbles

Charlie's Treasures
by Richard Neumann; illustrated by Dian de Wolf

Stone in the Surf Press

Okay, so you're laid off from various high-tech jobs. George Lucas won't hire you. Repeatedly. Your wife leaves you. You lose your house, pension and life savings. Your life generally sucks.

But you have this idea for a kid's book ...

My first thought: "Oh G-d, how do these people find me?"

My second thought: "Wow, this would make a great post."

Folks, meet Richard Neumann, the most persistent and charming loser you'll ever find online, who should turn his self-deprecating wit to writing children's books when he gets over the need to have a Message and Take This Seriously.

Charlie's Treasures is the story that kept him going when all else was gone. It's about a boy and his marbles. No, he doesn't really lose any. He visits a funky old shop and tells the mysterious, white-bearded old shopkeeper about each one. He knows a thing or two about playing marbles, that Charlie.

What's missing: A character arc, a conflict, relevance to anyone born after 1970 or so.

What it's got: Some terrific description, a lot of heart and cool marble trivia, and moody art that captures the boy's wonder.

Plus, it's got Neumann, who schlepped to New York to hawk his manuscript, visiting 110 publishers in 10 days. Geez, I get one lousy rejection and I'm useless for a month. Who feels like a loser now, huh? The consensus he heard was that the book was pitched at adults but illustrated for kids (I agree) and he resorted to starting his own publishing company.

He's been flogging the book on every webcast that will have him. If this guy sold gumption, he'd make back his fortune and then some. I'll wait for him to create characters like himself; larger than life, unstoppable as a hurricane, wicked smaht and wryly humorous. Kids love that stuff and parents eat it up. That means leaving sentimentality aside and going for raw emotion, and that might prove tough for a guy who's been through so much.

And, Richard, one little tip: hire a copy editor. Trust me on this one.

Rating: *\*\