In offering three distinct viewpoints, this curious piece makes a splendid conversation-starter.
An unseen narrator slyly frightens a rabbit by describing the not-very-wolflike characteristics of an approaching wolf.
Readers peer across a tabletop at a rabbit cowering behind the other side. “Tell me, Rabbit. Do you know the Not-So-Big-Bad Wolf?” asks the narrator, who seems positioned in the same place as readers. Ever silent, Rabbit draws a Big Bad Wolf on a wall-mounted blackboard while the narrator urges corrections: Not-So-Big-Bad Wolf has smaller ears, smaller nose, smaller teeth and longer hair than a Big Bad. Rabbit draws each change, while the rubbed-out chalk lines remain nicely visible too. Suddenly, “here it comes!” The chalk likeness appears decidedly un-lupine at this point, yet the rabbit flees in terror. Wolf approaches from the left of the page, showing only claws; Rabbit bounds to the right, diving behind a ball—“Not there. The wolf can see your ears”—and then a pile of books—“Not there. The wolf can see your tail.” The “wolf,” when it appears, is pretty benign, and the recently screaming-and-running rabbit reverts to expressionlessness. Escoffier’s story demonstrates that things may be less frightening than they seem; however, edginess seeps in through Di Giacomo’s rough scribble-style lines on rustic, pulpy paper, blank backgrounds that spotlight the chase, the wolf-suited (Max-like) child’s grasp on the rabbit’s ears, and some excremental evidence (recurring on the endpapers) of the rabbit’s real fear.
In offering three distinct viewpoints, this curious piece makes a splendid conversation-starter. (Picture book. 3-6)Pub Date: April 15, 2013
ISBN: 978-0-8234-2813-7
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Holiday House
Review Posted Online: Feb. 5, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2013
A hymn to the intrinsic loveliness of the wild and the possibility of sharing it.
What happens when a robot washes up alone on an island?
“Everything was just right on the island.” Brown beautifully re-creates the first days of Roz, the protagonist of his Wild Robot novels, as she adapts to living in the natural world. A storm-tossed ship, seen in the opening just before the title page, and a packing crate are the only other human-made objects to appear in this close-up look at the robot and her new home. Roz emerges from the crate, and her first thought as she sets off up a grassy hill—”This must be where I belong”—is sweetly glorious, a note of recognition rather than conquest. Roz learns to move, hide, and communicate like the creatures she meets. When she discovers an orphaned egg—and the gosling Brightbill, who eventually hatches—her decision to be his mother seems a natural extension of her adaptation. Once he flies south for the winter, her quiet wait across seasons for his return is a poignant portrayal of separation and change. Brown’s clean, precise lines and deep, light-filled colors offer a sense of what Roz might be seeing, suggesting a place that is alive yet deeply serene and radiant. Though the book stands alone, it adds an immensely appealing dimension to Roz’s world. Round thumbnails offer charming peeks into the island world, depicting Roz’s animal neighbors and Brightbill’s maturation.
A hymn to the intrinsic loveliness of the wild and the possibility of sharing it. (author’s note) (Picture book. 3-6)Pub Date: June 24, 2025
ISBN: 9780316669467
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: March 22, 2025
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2025
A powerful affirmation for all dads—the good, the flawed, and those doing the best they can.
Dedicating his latest to “caregivers who give what they never got,” Caldecott Honor winner Robinson explores complicated feelings around fatherhood.
From the outset, the book appears to be a standard-issue Father’s Day offering, pairing brief, loving sentiments with images of animals. But it soon becomes clear that Robinson has crafted something much more complex. A frog with tadpoles nestled atop his back (“Dad is here”) is followed by an illustration of an owl leaving the nest (“Dad had to go away”). More contrasts are presented: a seahorse keeping his offspring safe in his pouch (“Dad holds on tight”), two shark pups swimming away from their frenzied-looking patriarch (“Dad need lots of space”). “Dad lets you down and makes mistakes” (a porcupine accidentally jabs his little one), but “Dad picks you up and makes you feel safe” (a lion snuggles his cub). And the human fathers we meet next—diverse in skin tone and ability—are equally multifaceted. Robinson outdoes himself, his bold and richly textured paint and collage artwork popping against the background. His artwork is rife with subtleties for careful readers—for instance, the look of uncertainty in the eyes of the gorilla father described as “strong.” For all its simplicity, this colorful book is laden with meaning, depicting fathers as vulnerable, imperfect, gentle, and empathetic—in a word, deeply human.
A powerful affirmation for all dads—the good, the flawed, and those doing the best they can. (more information on the animals presented) (Picture book. 3-5)Pub Date: May 12, 2026
ISBN: 9781250397041
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Balzer + Bray
Review Posted Online: Dec. 12, 2025
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2026
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