A refreshing, original American tall tale. Root (All for the Newborn Baby, p. 1431, etc.) is a master of storytelling: with simple language, predictable rhythms and repetition, and flawless pacing, this story begs to be read aloud, again and again. Mama May had a magic cow, lovely Luella, whose milk never failed. The secret was that Mama May sang to her to get enough milk to feed her many children; sang again to stop the flow; then thanked Luella with a kiss on her velvety brown nose. Mama May’s daughter Annalisa “wasn’t the youngest, and she wasn’t the oldest, but she was the most curious and the most stubborn.” So despite her mother’s warnings, Annalisa just had to milk that cow. Annalisa sang the songs and milked the cow—but she didn’t kiss the cow. When Luella did not give milk, Mama May knew whom to suspect. Even though Mama May patiently requested, and the hungry siblings begged, Annalisa, who was as stubborn as she was curious, refused to kiss the cow. Hillenbrand’s (Down by the Station, 1999, etc.) illustrations are of mixed dry media: colored pencil, chalk, and ink layered on vellum, a technique that creates a richness and depth of field and gives an almost marbleizing texture to the figures. He presents a variety of visual perspectives, including sweeping landscapes and homey indoor vignettes. And his immense attention to detail is gratifying, portraying the humor and pathos of the story. A satisfying treat—from the front endpapers, which depict a multitude of children jumping from a hayloft to the final endpapers of satiated faces with milk mustaches. Certain to be a hit with kids and adults, this deserves a big smooch. (Picture book. 3-6)
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 2000
ISBN: 0-7636-0298-1
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Candlewick
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2000
A hymn to the intrinsic loveliness of the wild and the possibility of sharing it.
What happens when a robot washes up alone on an island?
“Everything was just right on the island.” Brown beautifully re-creates the first days of Roz, the protagonist of his Wild Robot novels, as she adapts to living in the natural world. A storm-tossed ship, seen in the opening just before the title page, and a packing crate are the only other human-made objects to appear in this close-up look at the robot and her new home. Roz emerges from the crate, and her first thought as she sets off up a grassy hill—”This must be where I belong”—is sweetly glorious, a note of recognition rather than conquest. Roz learns to move, hide, and communicate like the creatures she meets. When she discovers an orphaned egg—and the gosling Brightbill, who eventually hatches—her decision to be his mother seems a natural extension of her adaptation. Once he flies south for the winter, her quiet wait across seasons for his return is a poignant portrayal of separation and change. Brown’s clean, precise lines and deep, light-filled colors offer a sense of what Roz might be seeing, suggesting a place that is alive yet deeply serene and radiant. Though the book stands alone, it adds an immensely appealing dimension to Roz’s world. Round thumbnails offer charming peeks into the island world, depicting Roz’s animal neighbors and Brightbill’s maturation.
A hymn to the intrinsic loveliness of the wild and the possibility of sharing it. (author’s note) (Picture book. 3-6)Pub Date: June 24, 2025
ISBN: 9780316669467
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: March 22, 2025
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2025
Yes, the Pigeon has to go to school, and so do readers, and this book will surely ease the way.
All the typical worries and excuses kids have about school are filtered through Willems’ hysterical, bus-loving Pigeon.
Told mostly in speech balloons, the bird’s monologue will have kids (and their caregivers) in stitches at Pigeon’s excuses. From already knowing everything (except whatever question readers choose to provide in response to “Go ahead—ask me a question. / Any question!”) to fearing learning too much (“My head might pop off”), Pigeon’s imagination has run wild. Readers familiar with Pigeon will recognize the muted, matte backgrounds that show off the bird’s shenanigans so well. As in previous outings, Willems varies the size of the pigeon on the page to help communicate emotion, the bird teeny small on the double-page spread that illustrates the confession that “I’m… / scared.” And Pigeon’s eight-box rant about all the perils of school (“The unknown stresses me out, dude”) is marvelously followed by the realization (complete with lightbulb thought bubble) that school is the place for students to practice, with experts, all those skills they don’t yet have. But it is the ending that is so Willems, so Pigeon, and so perfect. Pigeon’s last question is “Well, HOW am I supposed to get there, anyway!?!” Readers will readily guess both the answer and Pigeon’s reaction.
Yes, the Pigeon has to go to school, and so do readers, and this book will surely ease the way. (Picture book. 3-6)Pub Date: July 2, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-368-04645-9
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Hyperion
Review Posted Online: May 7, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2019
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