A moving multigenerational story that urges us to look forward with optimism even as we acknowledge the pain of the past.
Hope is the thing with feathers in this soaring tale of indefatigable Indigenous identity.
Qal finds Aapa (Grandfather) painting in his treehouse by the sea, where the elder reminisces about time in “a crying place” (one of the residential schools where hundreds of thousands of Native children faced abuse) and shares tender insights. Now, dreaming and creativity “reminds me that I’m free,” but Aapa once drew hope from imagining his future family: “I built a nest, wisp by feather, for my dreams.” Iceberg’s (Aleut/Alutiiq) succinct text is tucked neatly into quieter corners of Littlebird’s (Oregon’s Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde) immersive digital illustrations, which feature copious feathers and images of the brown-skinned pair sporting full wings in moments of particular strength. Cool, soothing blues in the swooping art are accented with strategic pops of Aapa’s orange clothing, a nod to Canada’s Orange Shirt tradition marking the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation. Like the strongest picture books about American Indian residential schools, such as Kay Dupuis, Kathy Kacer, and Gillian Newland’s I Am Not a Number (2016) and David A. Robertson and Julie Flett’s When We Were Alone (2016), this powerful work touches on the immeasurable loss of life, language, and cultural identity while modeling resilience for processing these institutions’ lasting individual impact. Backmatter lends additional color and context and includes a hopeful author’s note offering a brief history of cultural erasure.
A moving multigenerational story that urges us to look forward with optimism even as we acknowledge the pain of the past. (Alutiiq glossary, note from publisher) (Picture book. 5-8)Pub Date: tomorrow
ISBN: 9780063254909
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Heartdrum
Review Posted Online: March 23, 2026
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2026
BOOK REVIEW
A nicely inventive little morality “tail” for newly independent readers.
Two little rats decide to show the world how tough they are, with unpredictable results.
Louie and Ralphie Ratso want to be just like their single dad, Big Lou: tough! They know that “tough” means doing mean things to other animals, like stealing Chad Badgerton’s hat. Chad Badgerton is a big badger, so taking that hat from him proves that Louie and Ralphie are just as tough as they want to be. However, it turns out that Louie and Ralphie have just done a good deed instead of a bad one: Chad Badgerton had taken that hat from little Tiny Crawley, a mouse, so when Tiny reclaims it, they are celebrated for goodness rather than toughness. Sadly, every attempt Louie and Ralphie make at doing mean things somehow turns nice. What’s a little boy rat supposed to do to be tough? Plus, they worry about what their dad will say when he finds out how good they’ve been. But wait! Maybe their dad has some other ideas? LaReau keeps the action high and completely appropriate for readers embarking on chapter books. Each of the first six chapters features a new, failed attempt by Louie and Ralphie to be mean, and the final, seventh chapter resolves everything nicely. The humor springs from their foiled efforts and their reactions to their failures. Myers’ sprightly grayscale drawings capture action and characters and add humorous details, such as the Ratsos’ “unwelcome” mat.
A nicely inventive little morality “tail” for newly independent readers. (Fiction. 5-8)Pub Date: Aug. 2, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-7636-7636-0
Page Count: 64
Publisher: Candlewick
Review Posted Online: May 3, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2016
A retro-futuristic romp, literally and figuratively screwy.
Robo-parents Diode and Lugnut present daughter Cathode with a new little brother—who requires, unfortunately, some assembly.
Arriving in pieces from some mechanistic version of Ikea, little Flange turns out to be a cute but complicated tyke who immediately falls apart…and then rockets uncontrollably about the room after an overconfident uncle tinkers with his basic design. As a squad of helpline techies and bevies of neighbors bearing sludge cake and like treats roll in, the cluttered and increasingly crowded scene deteriorates into madcap chaos—until at last Cath, with help from Roomba-like robodog Sprocket, stages an intervention by whisking the hapless new arrival off to a backyard workshop for a proper assembly and software update. “You’re such a good big sister!” warbles her frazzled mom. Wiesner’s robots display his characteristic clean lines and even hues but endearingly look like vaguely anthropomorphic piles of random jet-engine parts and old vacuum cleaners loosely connected by joints of armored cable. They roll hither and thither through neatly squared-off panels and pages in infectiously comical dismay. Even the end’s domestic tranquility lasts only until Cathode spots the little box buried in the bigger one’s packing material: “TWINS!” (This book was reviewed digitally with 9-by-22-inch double-page spreads viewed at 52% of actual size.)
A retro-futuristic romp, literally and figuratively screwy. (Picture book. 5-7)Pub Date: Sept. 1, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-544-98731-9
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Clarion Books
Review Posted Online: June 2, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2020
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