Would that all sib relationships were so harmonious
Four more emergent-reader episodes featuring little Annie, her “big, big brother,” Simon, and bucketloads of sibling togetherness.
O’Neill opens with a thematic link to Annie and Simon (2008). Simon (still) has trouble telling Annie’s drawings of a crayfish and a dragonfly apart but answers her skeptical response to his claim that frogs have knees (“Oh, Simon. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee-hee”) with nature facts until she admiringly asks him if he knows everything. “Well,” says Simon, “I hate to brag.” In subsequent episodes, Simon’s sneeze unleashes a patiently borne flood of little-sister TLC; Annie’s efforts to get her dog Hazel to purr end abruptly when she sees the neighbor’s cat stroll by with a mouse in his mouth; and the sudden disappearance of a wagonload of horse chestnuts left on the porch sparks a bit of detective work. In the author’s informal, loosely brushed watercolors, the gangly figures fit comfortably in outdoorsy suburban and cozy domestic settings. Their mutual attachment is clearly expressed in gestures, expressions, eye contact and, in the final scene, a tender smooch on the head by Simon: “You know,” he says, “you’re my favorite little sister.” “I know,” says Annie.
Would that all sib relationships were so harmonious . (Early reader. 5-7)Pub Date: May 1, 2013
ISBN: 978-0-7636-4921-0
Page Count: 64
Publisher: Candlewick
Review Posted Online: March 26, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2013
A retro-futuristic romp, literally and figuratively screwy.
Robo-parents Diode and Lugnut present daughter Cathode with a new little brother—who requires, unfortunately, some assembly.
Arriving in pieces from some mechanistic version of Ikea, little Flange turns out to be a cute but complicated tyke who immediately falls apart…and then rockets uncontrollably about the room after an overconfident uncle tinkers with his basic design. As a squad of helpline techies and bevies of neighbors bearing sludge cake and like treats roll in, the cluttered and increasingly crowded scene deteriorates into madcap chaos—until at last Cath, with help from Roomba-like robodog Sprocket, stages an intervention by whisking the hapless new arrival off to a backyard workshop for a proper assembly and software update. “You’re such a good big sister!” warbles her frazzled mom. Wiesner’s robots display his characteristic clean lines and even hues but endearingly look like vaguely anthropomorphic piles of random jet-engine parts and old vacuum cleaners loosely connected by joints of armored cable. They roll hither and thither through neatly squared-off panels and pages in infectiously comical dismay. Even the end’s domestic tranquility lasts only until Cathode spots the little box buried in the bigger one’s packing material: “TWINS!” (This book was reviewed digitally with 9-by-22-inch double-page spreads viewed at 52% of actual size.)
A retro-futuristic romp, literally and figuratively screwy. (Picture book. 5-7)Pub Date: Sept. 1, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-544-98731-9
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Clarion Books
Review Posted Online: June 2, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2020
A tongue-in-cheek bildungsroman about celebrating differences and the underrated superpowers of gentleness and sweetness.
Kaijus—giant Godzilla-like creatures—are supposed to have fearsome powers like atomic breath, the ability to summon storms, and magnetism—but not young Anzu.
Instead, he was born with the power of finding “beauty in small things.” Finally old enough to be assigned his own personal city to terrorize, Anzu hopes to impress his fond parents. But instead of inflicting fiery destruction on the tiny kodamalike residents at his feet, the best he can do is rain garlands of flowers down on them. He tries to wreak havoc by uprooting a tree but instead ends up creating a peaceful playground of blossoming animal topiaries. “I’ll never strike fear,” Anzu frets. “Am I even a kaiju?” Young readers may well share his doubts since, despite towering over the city of lumpy buildings made from low mounds of dirt, he and his family look more like cute, plump stuffies than scary reptilian beasts. When Anzu does at last manage a little devastation, his feeling of triumph is short-lived—and so, to restore joy and laughter, he exerts his special flower powers with surprising, and satisfying, results. The text is engaging and heartwarming without being cloying. The bright, colorful illustrations are rendered in watercolor and ink. Full-bleed artwork is interspersed with panels, which, along with the use of narrative boxes, lend a graphic feel to the presentation.
A tongue-in-cheek bildungsroman about celebrating differences and the underrated superpowers of gentleness and sweetness. (Graphic picture book. 5-7)Pub Date: Jan. 11, 2022
ISBN: 978-1-250-77612-9
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Roaring Brook Press
Review Posted Online: Dec. 15, 2021
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2022
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