To country mouse Madeleine and Oxford-bred Marcus Aurelius there is born a giant, ravenous baby, whom they wisely/learnedly name Magnus. Fed, in desperation, the Porker Pills unlettered Madeleine inadvertently ate when she was pregnant, Magnus grows bigger, more demanding ("More, Mummy! More! More!")—a trial to his meek, magniloquent father, a worry to his loving and practical mother. With the Porker Pills used up, and fierce Magnus in danger at loose, the two appeal to farmer-fed rabbit Roland—who fancies being called "Uncle" by "the little fellow," then greets word of his giantism with "How perfectly splendid!" The three are ecstatic at Magnus' triumph over a "Nasty cat." ("A positive powerhouse? booms Roland. "Powermouse, you means," squeals Madeleine.) Even Marcus Aurelius expresses his "undying gratitude" at Magnus' springing him from a trap. Then the farmer, noticing the empty rabbit-food bag, the sprung trap, sends for Jim the ratcatcher—behind his back, Jim the Rat. . . and an authorial upending the equal of Magnus. Jim the Rat can smell a mouse (even "a house-mouse'); he treasures the legend of the King Rat—"Could it be a King Mouse?" Baiting a mink trap with a Mars Bar, he catches Magnus; covertly bears him off-to the horror of the watching trio; and sets about taming him—"The way to the royal heart, he thought, is through the royal stomach"—while Madeleine and Marcus Aurelius comfort themselves with Roland's kindly prophecy of his "triumphal return." So, indeed, it will be: Jim's worship of his extraordinary pet ("A ratcatcher may look at a King Mouse") is matched by Magnus' guilty yearning ("All because Magnus was so greedy! Nasty, nasty Magnus!") for his Mummy and Daddy. There is a hint, once they're all happily resettled, of further adventures to come. A disquieting hint, in a way—so vigorously and unexpectedly do the animal world and the human world mingle in this first.
Pub Date: April 1, 1984
ISBN: 0141318201
Page Count: 169
Publisher: Harper & Row
Review Posted Online: April 30, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 1984
Broccoli: No way is James going to eat broccoli. “It’s disgusting,” says James. Well then, James, says his father, let’s consider the alternatives: some wormy dirt, perhaps, some stinky socks, some pre-chewed gum? James reconsiders the broccoli, but—milk? “Blech,” says James. Right, says his father, who needs strong bones? You’ll be great at hide-and-seek, though not so great at baseball and kickball and even tickling the dog’s belly. James takes a mouthful. So it goes through lumpy oatmeal, mushroom lasagna and slimy eggs, with James’ father parrying his son’s every picky thrust. And it is fun, because the father’s retorts are so outlandish: the lasagna-making troll in the basement who will be sent back to the rat circus, there to endure the rodent’s vicious bites; the uneaten oatmeal that will grow and grow and probably devour the dog that the boy won’t be able to tickle any longer since his bones are so rubbery. Schneider’s watercolors catch the mood of gentle ribbing, the looks of bewilderment and surrender and the deadpanned malarkey. It all makes James’ father’s last urging—“I was just going to say that you might like them if you tried them”—wholly fresh and unexpected advice. (Early reader. 5-9)
Pub Date: May 1, 2011
ISBN: 978-0-547-14956-1
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Clarion Books
Review Posted Online: April 4, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2011
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
The greening of Dr. Seuss, in an ecology fable with an obvious message but a savingly silly style. In the desolate land of the Lifted Lorax, an aged creature called the Once-ler tells a young visitor how he arrived long ago in the then glorious country and began manufacturing anomalous objects called Thneeds from "the bright-colored tufts of the Truffula Trees." Despite protests from the Lorax, a native "who speaks for the trees," he continues to chop down Truffulas until he drives away the Brown Bar-ba-loots who had fed on the Tuffula fruit, the Swomee-Swans who can't sing a note for the smogulous smoke, and the Humming-Fish who had hummed in the pond now glumped up with Gluppity-Glupp. As for the Once-let, "1 went right on biggering, selling more Thneeds./ And I biggered my money, which everyone needs" — until the last Truffula falls. But one seed is left, and the Once-let hands it to his listener, with a message from the Lorax: "UNLESS someone like you/ cares a whole awful lot,/ nothing is going to get better./ It's not." The spontaneous madness of the old Dr. Seuss is absent here, but so is the boredom he often induced (in parents, anyway) with one ridiculous invention after another. And if the Once-let doesn't match the Grinch for sheer irresistible cussedness, he is stealing a lot more than Christmas and his story just might induce a generation of six-year-olds to care a whole lot.
Pub Date: Aug. 12, 1971
ISBN: 0394823370
Page Count: 72
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: Oct. 19, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1971
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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