A little bird yearns for more.
Last seen in Lonely Bird (2023), the titular character—an avian equivalent of a stick figure—resembles nothing so much as a cut-paper drawing living in a world of thick, realistic oil paints. Little wonder that she can’t figure out where she fits in. Perhaps the sky? But the real birds that can fly have wings that seem entirely different from her own. With pencil-sketched dreams of flight dancing in her head, she sets off to research the many ways of taking to the skies. Drawings and experiments lead to a series of tests. Lonely Bird builds a glider, tweaking her designs after a precipitous crash before finally attaining a bit of success. Alas, a downdraft causes her to crash in a spiderweb in a tree, her home below appearing comparatively distant. With her plane now crushed, how will she return? This book contains the very rare instance of a realistic-looking spider proving to be a capable friend and ally at a time of need. Lonely Bird’s final conclusion that “I know exactly where I belong” is heartening, though by no means clear. Her declaration may lead to some thoughtful discussions with young readers about why she feels the way she does. The children who reside in her home present white.
This distinctly gentle, earnest protagonist’s quiet triumphs still resonate.
(Picture book. 5-7)