This tale of a ravenous easy chair starts out innocently enough: Mrs. Piccolo and her billowy, cheese-puff-devouring chair enjoy each other’s company—the chair so likes Mrs. Piccolo it sometimes won’t let her go. When Mrs. Piccolo shuffles off to the supermarket, though, the chair follows at a distance, intent on snagging a bag or two of cheese puffs. First a policeman tries to write the chair a ticket—“We can’t have easy chairs strolling down the streets without a license”—and the chair swallows him up in its voluminous cushioning. Same goes for the store manager when he tries to deny the chair entrance: “Can’t you read?” he said, pointing to a sign on the door. “No easy chairs!” Slurp-gulp, and the manager joins the policeman somewhere in the stuffing. The same fate awaits a couple of rambunctious children who won’t stop bouncing on the chair, and their mother, who has an interest in their whereabouts. All are belched out when the chair gets home. The policeman, the manager, and the mother play dumb about the preposterous proceedings when Mrs. Piccolo returns to find them and her chair on the sidewalk outside her house; they don’t want to admit they were taken in by a chair. This sly swipe at both authority and disobedience has on its side child’s-sized absurdity, and pleasurably gaudy artwork from Greenseid. (Picture book. 4-8)
Pub Date: Sept. 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-7894-2580-7
Page Count: 32
Publisher: DK Publishing
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 1999
Lunge-Larsen and Preus debut with this story of a flower that blooms for the first time to commemorate the uncommon courage of a girl who saves her people from illness. The girl, an Ojibwe of the northern woodlands, knows she must journey to the next village to get the healing herb, mash-ki- ki, for her people, who have all fallen ill. After lining her moccasins with rabbit fur, she braves a raging snowstorm and crosses a dark frozen lake to reach the village. Then, rather than wait for morning, she sets out for home while the villagers sleep. When she loses her moccasins in the deep snow, her bare feet are cut by icy shards, and bleed with every step until she reaches her home. The next spring beautiful lady slippers bloom from the place where her moccasins were lost, and from every spot her injured feet touched. Drawing on Ojibwe sources, the authors of this fluid retelling have peppered the tale with native words and have used traditional elements, e.g., giving voice to the forces of nature. The accompanying watercolors, with flowing lines, jewel tones, and decorative motifs, give stately credence to the story’s iconic aspects. (Picture book/folklore. 4-8)
Pub Date: March 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-395-90512-5
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 1999
This vibrant, thoughtful book from Katz (Over the Moon, 1997) continues her tribute to her adopted daughter, Lena, born in Guatemala. Lena is “seven. I am the color of cinnamon. Mom says she could eat me up”; she learns during a painting lesson that to get the color brown, she will have to “mix red, yellow, black, and white paints.” They go for a walk to observe the many shades of brown: they see Sonia, who is the color of creamy peanut butter; Isabella, who is chocolate brown; Lucy, both peachy and tan; Jo-Jin, the color of honey; Kyle, “like leaves in fall”; Mr. Pellegrino, the color of pizza crust, golden brown. Lena realizes that every shade is beautiful, then mixes her paints accordingly for portraits of her friends—“The colors of us!” Bold illustrations celebrate diversity with a child’s open-hearted sensibility and a mother’s love. (Picture book. 6-8)
Pub Date: Sept. 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-8050-5864-8
Page Count: 28
Publisher: Henry Holt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 1999
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