Agreeably silly stuff in the classic noodlehead vein.
A couple of turkeys do a whole lot of nothing on the farm.
Bob and Tom are both tom turkeys, and they’re good friends. They’re also…not the sharpest tools in the shed, so to speak. In a sequence of time-stamped episodes, the turkeys get soaked in the rain (“ ‘It’s wet,’ Tom noticed. ‘It’s the water,’ Bob explained”), ponder the contents of their heads, conspire to swipe “a suit that swims” from the clothesline so they can take a dip in the pond, and convince themselves that they’ve lost their names. These absurd little episodes are illustrated with detailed mixed-media pictures that depict the friends as plump, bumbling turkeys (who, oddly, seem to have navels) amid other farm animals and people going about their days in the background. Certain scenes seem a bit overworked, with characters blending in a bit too much with the saturated setting, but the humor will help engage readers. Some of the humor is so understated it may take a while to sink in, as when Tom explains to a cow that their names are “small” and have “a round thing in the middle…like a doughnut.” “What kind of doughnut?” the cow asks. Children will ask their caregivers why they are snickering and be thus ushered into the world of Cazet’s dry wit.
Agreeably silly stuff in the classic noodlehead vein. (Picture book. 4-6)Pub Date: July 25, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-4814-6140-5
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Richard Jackson/Atheneum
Review Posted Online: April 30, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2017
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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