Graham captures a moment in time, and like many moments, it is full to the brim.
A little girl draws a duck. Before she can ink in the final silver button of the duck’s morning coat, her brother takes his first walking steps. In the kitchen, her mother plays the pennywhistle. A pigeon builds a nest on a cornice; a jogger shuffles by. A loaf of bread is bought; a soldier says goodbye to his mother. Birds head south; the city wakes; a baby is born; a blackbird (clearly the early bird) eats a worm. This is an elegant piece of living theater, something into which readers can nestle and observe. The natty artwork is a fine combination of ink, colors lighter than air and colors as rich as the inside of a bonbon. There are bird’s-eye perspectives reminiscent of Mitsumasa Anno and the sweet, almost dreamlike broken linework of John Burningham, but the illustrations are handsome and inviting on their very own. This is not an easy book, even with its scant text. This apparent slice of the everyday moves quietly into the existential.
A book to bathe in, reminding readers that something magical is happening every instant. (Picture book. 4-6)