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THE UNBUDGEABLE CURMUDGEON

Explorations of bad moods can be potent source material, but this jumbled attempt will give curmudgeons one more thing to...

Grouchy siblings try to shake each other in and out of bad moods.

Bouncing, irregularly rhyming text that pops with soft-G sounds explores the different ways of getting someone out of a grump-spiral. “You might ask the curmudgeon / if he wouldn’t mind scooching / over a smidgen.” Or: “Hugs can budge curmudgeons,” and if all else fails, “Some say, / ‘If you can’t budge ’em, / join ’em.” The curmudgeon (defined in the beginning as “A bad-tempered, difficult, cranky person”) looks like a fanged and furry orange monster that slowly distills into a white child with red hair as their mood improves. Their sibling, initially presented as human, then begins their own transformation as their mood sours, growing fangs and fuzzy, clawful paws. The art in this story is rich and satisfying, created with stamps and blow pens, and it practically bursts off the page. The text is less engaging, sometimes feeling contrived and other times cloying or preachy. The thin story closes with “It can be tricky / to get the gunk off / the funkiest funks, / but once a curmudgeon / begins to budge… // …you’d be surprised how quickly… / the grouchiness can vanish!” It’s an awfully chipper signoff for a book that’s supposedly about inveterate grumps. The siblings, with red hair that matches the curmudgeon’s fuzz, both present white.

Explorations of bad moods can be potent source material, but this jumbled attempt will give curmudgeons one more thing to complain about. (Picture book. 4-6)

Pub Date: March 12, 2019

ISBN: 978-0-399-55662-3

Page Count: 32

Publisher: Knopf

Review Posted Online: Oct. 27, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2018

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IF YOUR MONSTER WON'T GO TO BED

A few moments shine, but all in all an overstuffed effort.

What with keeping the fridge stocked with slug mush and sour green milk, incidentals such as mud soap and fang paste seem downright ordinary—unlike the consequences of ignoring the emphatic “Don’t”s populating this unorthodox DIY manual: “massive monster tantrums.”

The six-step bedtime instructions are scrawled on wide-ruled school paper, detailing the biracial bunny-slippered protagonist’s superior strategizing skills. If the detailed formula is rigidly adhered to, the rowdy monster will allow itself to go from a soothing ice bath to bedtime story to screeching lullaby to, finally, sleep. OHora’s signature color palette and tongue-in-cheek retro illustrations with a matte finish bring Vega’s uneven story to uproarious life. The sheep sandwich heading for the cavernous maw looks appropriately terrified, in contrast to the tiny terrier worrying the gigantic, furred monster’s knees. From the parents (a shell-shocked black mom cradles her cringing white husband) to the exuberant grizzly-sized, pom-pom–sporting, rainbow-striped monster, the delightful characters revolve around a no-nonsense, brown-skinned child rocking her own pom-pom ’do. Regrettably, Vega tries too hard to be cute. There is a game of “toss-the-slime-ball,” the information that “monsters hate milk unless it’s sour and green and smells like dirty underwear,” and instructions to “read the freakiest, creepiest, scariest story from your bookshelf—screaming where appropriate”—it’s all just too much.

A few moments shine, but all in all an overstuffed effort. (Picture book. 4-6)

Pub Date: March 14, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-553-49655-0

Page Count: 40

Publisher: Knopf

Review Posted Online: Dec. 13, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2017

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SNOW BEAST COMES TO PLAY

The lack of adventure and the pat, pedestrian resolution makes this an ineffective if well-intentioned appeal to get past...

Unfortunately for one disgruntled snow beast, there isn’t a whole lot to do on the mountain aside from snoring or comparing relative foot size (big, bigger, biggest).

Tobogganing all the way down on his prodigious rump, Snow Beast lands in town to start his search for a friend. Snow Beast is as large as a three-story building, and his voice is just as huge. Despite having the conversational skills of a caveman—“SNOW BEAST WANT PLAY!”—Snow Beast appears to know a lot about the rules of friendship, such as always starting with “Hello,” and “to try to join in.” Nevertheless, Snow Beast’s overtures of friendship are rejected by everyone—from the five o’clock shadowed snow-shoveler to the shrieking Christmas-light committee. Penny, a little white girl who loves snow but knows enough to be wary of snow beasts, screeches and runs after his bellowed, “HELLO!!” But when Snow Beast starts crying, Penny, despite her dog’s advice to the contrary, invites the beast to play. And that’s about it, as far as plot is concerned. Gosier’s spare illustrations evoke the animation style of the 1950s. Speech bubbles capture the scant lines of dialogue as well as every screech, shriek, and howl of the terrified townsfolk.

The lack of adventure and the pat, pedestrian resolution makes this an ineffective if well-intentioned appeal to get past the unreliability of first impressions. (Picture book. 4-6)

Pub Date: Nov. 7, 2017

ISBN: 978-1-62672-519-5

Page Count: 34

Publisher: Roaring Brook Press

Review Posted Online: Sept. 17, 2017

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2017

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