According to the jacket copy, My Name is Nicole picked up a couple of outstanding prizes for children's books in the original French edition. There is nevertheless, something unchildlike about Nicole, the pre-schooler narrator, which can probably be traced to the blandly stated control she reportedly exerts over her parents, her irritatingly superior boy cousin and her excellently ordered daily life. This comes out in her account of some imaginary adventures with Boniface, a sad, Pluto-ish hound whom she commands with oddly flirtatious overtones, and Thursday, her latterly acquired Pooh-ish looking Teddy bear. The real animal is jealous of the stuffed animal and, again, there is a startling amount of calculation about the effect of this jealousy forecasting a Nicole of probable Sagan proportions after a little schooling. The French idea of an appealing small girl is' obviously more sophisticated than ours.