EVERY SPACE BETWEEN

Hrab and Martz mull the “in-betweens” that make up life.

“There is space between all moments,” announces an unseen narrator. Most are ordinary: the moment between feeling an itch on your knee and scratching it. Some are “as sweet and swift as the moment before your dad’s kiss meets your forehead.” Still others are long: “the distance between the minute you were born and today.” While early page turns feature unexpected and humorous elements reminiscent of Mac Barnett and Adam Rex’s Guess Again! (2009), the book pivots abruptly to more advanced and underexplained content. Hrab relies on child-friendly comparisons, like gooey grilled cheese sandwiches, but youngsters will nevertheless likely be left confounded as the musings become more cerebral—what does it mean for an in-between to be “as firm as the wall between your room and your brother’s”? Or for in-betweens to “teeter-totter and wibble-wobble before making up their minds”? Depicting scenarios involving a pair of brown-skinned siblings, Martz’s visuals attempt to make the abstract content more concrete but can’t quite compensate for the prose’s vagueness, though creative use of the gutter, motion lines, and paneled art do effectively convey a sense of forward movement. The text is placed tidily on solid backgrounds in a range of muted, earthy tones.

A lofty concept fails to land amid a confusing mashup of philosophical conceits.