Here’s hoping readers who are similarly challenged in the behavior department will get both messages: Teachers are people,...
A behaviorally challenged little boy for whom paper airplanes are a particular weakness learns to see his teacher as a person when he meets her outside the classroom.
Bobby’s teacher stomps, roars and takes away recess (not without reason). The little boy’s one refuge is the park—but so is Ms. Kirby’s. In a marvelously illustrated, wordless spread, Brown shows how both Ms. Kirby and Bobby feel when their private moments are interrupted by the other. But in a show of maturity, Bobby understands that running away (no matter how much he may want to) will only make things worse. Some painful small talk and a hat rescued from the wind slowly lead the two to deeper interaction. And when Bobby takes her to his favorite high overlook, Ms. Kirby, who has slowly been losing her green skin, spiky teeth, hippolike nostrils and hulking bulk, silently hands him a piece of paper. The flight is epic. Afterward, Ms. Kirby still roars and stomps and frowns upon paper airplanes in class, though she retains her human features (if not her skin color, at least not all the time). The digitally composited and colored India ink, watercolor, gouache and pencil illustrations use a palette of green, shades of tan and brown, aqua and salmon that suits the text’s tongue-in-cheek humor and monster theme, the colors brightening as Ms. Kirby loses her monster-ness.
Here’s hoping readers who are similarly challenged in the behavior department will get both messages: Teachers are people, and they give back what they get. (Picture book. 4-8)Pub Date: July 1, 2014
ISBN: 978-0-316-07029-4
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: May 13, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2014
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Parenting skills come in handy even for immense, green, fire-breathing monsters.
A little kaiju yearns to join its mom in saving Earth and other good deeds.
It seems the narrator’s mom at one time was “a little…wild” (“Where did you even find that?” she exclaims, rolling her eyes at a collection of clippings with headlines like “GARGANTUA STRIKES AGAIN”). But now she helps out by resetting knocked-over buildings, tickling rampaging space robots into acquiescence, and blasting the occasional giant asteroid before it hits with her fiery atomic breath. “I want to grow up to be just like my mom,” proclaims the cute little narrator—who chafes at being allowed to cheer her exploits only from a distance. The diminutive lizard-monster therefore determinedly sets out to prove that it’s not a baby any more. Fortunately, Mom comes through in the clutch. After saving her overly ambitious mite from being smooshed beneath the condemned skyscraper it manages to knock down, instead of meting out punishment she cannily suggests that maybe they should work together from then on. “And that’s just what we do,” the dinky dino concludes, adding a pint-sized blast to its mom’s roaring exhalation. Only carping critics will complain that Sylvester models his round-headed narrator and its smiling, much bigger single parent more on Godzilla and Godzilla Jr. than the Gargantua of film in his cartoon pictures. They are missing out on terrific fun.
Parenting skills come in handy even for immense, green, fire-breathing monsters. (Picture book. 5-7)Pub Date: April 2, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-77306-182-5
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Groundwood
Review Posted Online: Dec. 15, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2019
Tasty and homegrown, this hits a strange and specific trifecta: a lightly bilingual book that feels inclusive not only for...
A young boy who happens to be undead reveals himself as a vegetarian to parents who are not about to stop eating people parts.
Mo, a greenish, bespectacled kid, has an idea to share his love of the veggies he grows in secret: He’ll make a bloody-looking gazpacho, one that might fool mom and dad into appreciating tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, garlic, and cilantro. The gambit fails. But even if the rotting folks can’t accept heaps of vegetables in their diet, they can learn to honor their son’s dietary desires. That’s an admirable message, but what really creeps up on readers is the Laceras’ deep sense of fun. Gravestone puns are to be expected, but to sneak in a reference to Jonathan Saffron Gore hits all the right geek buttons, at least for the kind of parent who’d gravitate to a zombie-themed picture book. And while understated, the family’s effortless use of occasional Spanish phrases (“arm-panadas”!) in a primarily English-speaking household feels true. The Spanish-language version (translated by Yanitzia Canetti) has its own specific jokes and reads just as smart and funny. The artwork throughout manages to make zombie-grown produce look appealing.
Tasty and homegrown, this hits a strange and specific trifecta: a lightly bilingual book that feels inclusive not only for Latinx kids, but also for different eaters and for those who aren’t afraid of gory, monster-themed humor. (recipes) (Picture book. 4-7)Pub Date: April 2, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-62014-794-8
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Children's Book Press
Review Posted Online: Jan. 27, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2019
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