There isn’t anything that Oskar, a small bird, doesn’t love. How about you?
In a minimalistic litany to senses and experiences, Teckentrup portrays a stylized black bird, possibly a crow, in a series of very simply rendered activities. Oskar loves the “deep blue ocean” and “soft green grass,” the “smell of spring” and “yellow autumn leaves.” He loves to take his “little fluffy cloud” for a walk, to lose himself in books and in pictures, to walk beneath the sun and the moon, in rain and in silent snow. In full-page illustrations that have the look of prints and appear on recto opposite short lines of text, Oskar poses with each favorite thing. He is made up of simple shapes: crescents for body and wings, a triangle for his tail, a semicircle for his head, and two enormous triangles for his beak, the bottom jaw ever so slightly curved to suggest a smile in many pictures. The closing question turns the narrative over to young audiences, who won’t be slow to chime in. Unlike such similar invitations as Anthony Browne’s How Do You Feel? (2002), there’s not much room here for any response short of full-blown adoration (not to mention less positive feelings)—but the suggestion that Oskar can have an emotionally intense life without having to share it with anyone else (he’s alone in every picture) may be reassuring to solitary sorts.
A not entirely one-dimensional corvine bliss-out. (Picture book. 2-4)