MAX, THE STUBBORN LITTLE WOLF

Young Max runs against the tide. He is a wolf who can’t stand hunting: “Hunting is nasty, cruel, horrible. I will never be a hunter.” He would rather be a florist. This has Papa up in arms. “You, my son, will follow family tradition. And that is that!” But Max resists. His father figures if he can get his son interested in hunting, he will forego this florist business. And if he can’t, then Papa will eat his hat. Soooo, Papa eats his hat. Then he tries to convince Max that being a florist is too dangerous. He eats his pillow. He tries to make Max sick of the smell of flowers by dousing his bed with perfume. Max, of course, loves the smell, so much so that he changes his mind about being a florist; he will become a maker of perfumes. His father eats the china. Children will likely miss all the associations that adults will bring to this loaded combination of sensibilities, so the book works mainly as an encouragement to listen to your own drummer, though it lumbers under the weight of its agenda. The tone is sniping and crotchety, and the comments by Max about how he likes to get his dinner—“I like meat that you buy, but not meat that you hunt”—is woeful testimony about how we protect ourselves against the rough and tumble of the world by letting others do the dirty work for us. There is a certain amount of droll picture making going on, but most of it gets lost in all the palaver. (Picture book. 3-6)