TRICERATOPPOSITE

Justification, or maybe just deserts, for prehistoric or modern young contradictosauruses.

In essence a retread of Stegothesaurus (2018) with an altered setup and a woefully muddled ending, this prehistoric episode pits beleaguered parents against a stubbornly contrary offspring. Since he always says and does the opposite of what Mommy and Daddy Triceratops—identified, in McBeth’s simple cartoon illustrations, respectively by eyelashes and pearls and a necktie—he’s earned the titular moniker. When urged to eat, say, Triceratopposite spits out his dinner leaves; at the hot springs after refusing to get in, he recklessly splashes and dives off rocks until he’s forcibly marched home. That night, as his exhausted parents sleep, he wanders outside and meets a toothy, exaggeratedly humongous T. rex child. A monosyllabic exchange ensues: “Big!” “Little!” “Mean!” “Nice!” “Leave?” “Stay!” “Play?” “Fight!” Out rush the triceraparents, just in time to be horrified by the sight of their offspring engaged in a bit of playful roughhousing. Their shouted “Enemy!” gets the predictable rejoinder “Friend!” and a cozy closing predator-prey hug. “Maybe, in this case, the opposite was better after all.” But a different message is conveyed by the following and final line, in which a hopeful “The Beginning” is crossed out and replaced by an ominous “The End.” If this is an attempt at Jon Klassen–style ambiguity, the illustrator misses it, and readers will too. (This book was reviewed digitally with 9-by-18-inch double-page spreads viewed at 83% of actual size.)

Timeless of premise but not exactly fresh and, at best, inept of execution.