This sequel may not be wholly necessary, but little truck lovers will appreciate the light at the end of the tunnel.
Nothing’s spookier than getting lost without your best friend by your side.
Once so different, the buddies of Two Tough Trucks (2019) are now as alike as peas in a pod. Mack and Rig spend their days, “racing and chasing and zipping ’round bends.” Warned by their folks to be back before dark, the two tear off into the saguaro-studded landscape, failing to notice with their headlight-eyes shut that when the road forks they take different paths. Upon discovering that they are not only lost, but separated, the two look high and low as the sun sets in the west. It’s Rig who thinks to light a flare and Mac who gets to the high ground, where he spots it. Reunited, they retrace their tracks, back to parents and home. This rhyming sequel, while peppy, downplays the trucks’ previously established personalities, rendering them nearly identical. It is nice to see them manage their mutual rescue, though the ending lands a bit flat. Blocky, cartoon art keeps things artful and peppy, rendering every little emotion a lost truck might feel in quick succession. Quick-eyed spotters will note the roadrunner and tortoise that secretly accompany our two heroes as they search for one another (even on the endpapers). (This book was reviewed digitally with 9.9-by-19-inch double-page spreads viewed at 18.5% of actual size.)
This sequel may not be wholly necessary, but little truck lovers will appreciate the light at the end of the tunnel. (Picture book. 4-6)Pub Date: Sept. 1, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-338-23655-2
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Orchard/Scholastic
Review Posted Online: Aug. 17, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 2020
A straightforward tale of conflict and reconciliation for newly emergent readers? Not exactly, which raises it above the...
In this deceptively spare, very beginning reader, a girl assembles a robot and then treats it like a slave until it goes on strike.
Having put the robot together from a jumble of loose parts, the budding engineer issues an increasingly peremptory series of rhymed orders— “Throw, Bot. / Row, Bot”—that turn from playful activities like chasing bubbles in the yard to tasks like hoeing the garden, mowing the lawn and towing her around in a wagon. Jung crafts a robot with riveted edges, big googly eyes and a smile that turns down in stages to a scowl as the work is piled on. At last, the exhausted robot plops itself down, then in response to its tormentor’s angry “Don’t say no, Bot!” stomps off in a huff. In one to four spacious, sequential panels per spread, Jung develops both the plotline and the emotional conflict using smoothly modeled cartoon figures against monochromatic or minimally detailed backgrounds. The child’s commands, confined in small dialogue balloons, are rhymed until her repentant “Come on home, Bot” breaks the pattern but leads to a more equitable division of labor at the end.
A straightforward tale of conflict and reconciliation for newly emergent readers? Not exactly, which raises it above the rest. (Easy reader. 4-6)Pub Date: June 25, 2013
ISBN: 978-0-375-87083-5
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: April 14, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2013
BOOK REVIEW
An unfortunately simplistic delivery of a well-intentioned message.
Drawing on lyrics from her Mormon children’s hymn of the same title, Pearson explores diversity and acceptance in a more secular context.
Addressing people of varying ages, races, origins, and abilities in forced rhymes that omit the original version’s references to Jesus, various speakers describe how they—unlike “some people”—will “show [their] love for” their fellow humans. “If you don’t talk as most people do / some people talk and laugh at you,” a child tells a tongue-tied classmate. “But I won’t! / I won’t! / I’ll talk with you / and giggle too. / That’s how I’ll show my love for you.” Unfortunately, many speakers’ actions feel vague and rather patronizing even as they aim to include and reassure. “I know you bring such interesting things,” a wheelchair user says, welcoming a family “born far, far away” who arrives at the airport; the adults wear Islamic clothing. As pink- and brown-skinned worshipers join a solitary brown-skinned person who somehow “[doesn’t] pray as some people pray” on a church pew, a smiling, pink-skinned worshiper’s declaration that “we’re all, I see, one family” raises echoes of the problematic assertion, “I don’t see color.” The speakers’ exclamations of “But I won’t!” after noting others’ prejudiced behavior reads more as self-congratulation than promise of inclusion. Sanders’ geometric, doll-like human figures are cheery but stiff, and the text’s bold, uppercase typeface switches jarringly to cursive for the refrain, “That’s how I’ll show my love for you.” Characters’ complexions include paper-white, yellow, pink, and brown.
An unfortunately simplistic delivery of a well-intentioned message. (Picture book. 4-6)Pub Date: March 17, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-4236-5395-0
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Gibbs Smith
Review Posted Online: Jan. 20, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
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