GWENDOLYN'S PET GARDEN

While Gwendolyn yearns for a pet, her parents are allergic to many and opposed to all.

They offer a diversionary backyard alternative, which Gwendolyn terms a “box of dirt.” “It’s a bed of soil,” they counter. Where she smells “swamp,” they smell “possibilities.” Accordingly, Gwendolyn launches a new pastime engendering self-education, patience, and delight. She borrows and devours The Great Book of Gardening from the library. She obtains seeds from the community seed library and plants futures of marigolds, basil, fennel, and zucchini. Gwendolyn waters as needed and talks to her invisible charges daily. “But nothing happened.” She bans the neighbor’s dog and affixes a proprietary sign. “But still, nothing happened. / Until the day the soil did a trick.” Tiny leaves push up, joined by others. Gwendolyn names the seedlings and logs information about her growing plants. They blossom, attract bees and butterflies, and bring joy. The soil bed “did not have two legs, four legs, or any legs at all. But it was alive, and Gwendolyn could talk to it, care for it, and watch it grow.” Renaud appealingly conveys the parents’ wryness and daughter’s enthusiasm. The family members, including a baby, all have dark hair and ruddy complexions; the seed exchange’s librarian presents Black. Kheiriyeh’s collages capture Gwendolyn’s bouncy exuberance and present the plants in oversized, stylized fashion. Curiously, a note ties the emergence of seed libraries to the repurposing of library card catalogs—hardly an exclusive purview for either. (This book was reviewed digitally with 10.5-by-17-inch double-page spreads viewed at 79.1% of actual size.)

Another sturdy upstart in a perennially popular genre.