IF YOU CALL MY NAME

If the fish calls my name, I may go,"" says a long-haired, Victorian-faced little girl--whereupon we have two pictureless pages of airy poeticizing (""And he is a silver fish/ and I am a silver fish/ turning girl to Fish as I slither silver into the water . . .""), followed by a double-page spread, in color, showing a fierce-looking and a gentle-looking fish. Then, in the same pattern: ""If the hawk calls my name, I may go."" And: ""If the lion calls my name, I may go."" Finally: ""But if you call my name, I will go."" That leads to a double-page spread of the little girl and a little boy under a tree, kissing--while in the background we see a pair of birds and a couple of fish. It's soppy to start with, numbing to sit through, and ill-advised at the close: you don't have to be outraged at the current exploitation of juvenile sexuality to feel that true-romance can wait a little.