Despite its cuddly characters, this uplifting but unevenly developed friendship tale doesn’t quite soar.
A lonely little girl befriends a wingless dragon.
Every day, in a seaside village “with cobblestone streets, a water fountain, and an ice cream stand,” Rosie watches the other children laugh and play. She wishes they “would see her.” Every day, from his tree overlooking the village, Rasmus watches birds twirl in the sky. He wishes he could fly. When Rosie approaches Rasmus’ tree and he offers her a flower, the two become fast friends. Rosie teaches him to jump rope and pirouette; Rasmus shows her his flying kite, floating balloons, and favorite book (starring a soaring dragon). With clever kid logic, Rosie devises adaptations to help him fly, encouraging him in speech bubbles to no avail—until, out-of-the-blue, Rasmus sprouts his own wings. His wish granted, Rasmus sadly bids Rosie adieu (why he must leave is never explained); Rosie sadly resumes watching the other children play until, one day….Geddes’ large-font text is lightly rhythmic; her pale, fuzzy pastels are soothing and humorous, and her protagonists’ sniffles and smiles endearing. Unfortunately, her heavy focus on Rosie’s helping Rasmus to fly turns him into a project as much as a friend. Additionally, if readers interpret Rasmus’ missing wings as a disability, his obsession with flying and his abrupt wing growth may call to mind such overused tropes as a disabled character pining to be nondisabled and their miraculous recovery. Rosie is white; there is some diversity among the other children.
Despite its cuddly characters, this uplifting but unevenly developed friendship tale doesn’t quite soar. (Picture book. 4-6)Pub Date: April 2, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-4814-9874-6
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Aladdin
Review Posted Online: Dec. 15, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2019
A straightforward tale of conflict and reconciliation for newly emergent readers? Not exactly, which raises it above the...
In this deceptively spare, very beginning reader, a girl assembles a robot and then treats it like a slave until it goes on strike.
Having put the robot together from a jumble of loose parts, the budding engineer issues an increasingly peremptory series of rhymed orders— “Throw, Bot. / Row, Bot”—that turn from playful activities like chasing bubbles in the yard to tasks like hoeing the garden, mowing the lawn and towing her around in a wagon. Jung crafts a robot with riveted edges, big googly eyes and a smile that turns down in stages to a scowl as the work is piled on. At last, the exhausted robot plops itself down, then in response to its tormentor’s angry “Don’t say no, Bot!” stomps off in a huff. In one to four spacious, sequential panels per spread, Jung develops both the plotline and the emotional conflict using smoothly modeled cartoon figures against monochromatic or minimally detailed backgrounds. The child’s commands, confined in small dialogue balloons, are rhymed until her repentant “Come on home, Bot” breaks the pattern but leads to a more equitable division of labor at the end.
A straightforward tale of conflict and reconciliation for newly emergent readers? Not exactly, which raises it above the rest. (Easy reader. 4-6)Pub Date: June 25, 2013
ISBN: 978-0-375-87083-5
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: April 14, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2013
BOOK REVIEW
An unfortunately simplistic delivery of a well-intentioned message.
Drawing on lyrics from her Mormon children’s hymn of the same title, Pearson explores diversity and acceptance in a more secular context.
Addressing people of varying ages, races, origins, and abilities in forced rhymes that omit the original version’s references to Jesus, various speakers describe how they—unlike “some people”—will “show [their] love for” their fellow humans. “If you don’t talk as most people do / some people talk and laugh at you,” a child tells a tongue-tied classmate. “But I won’t! / I won’t! / I’ll talk with you / and giggle too. / That’s how I’ll show my love for you.” Unfortunately, many speakers’ actions feel vague and rather patronizing even as they aim to include and reassure. “I know you bring such interesting things,” a wheelchair user says, welcoming a family “born far, far away” who arrives at the airport; the adults wear Islamic clothing. As pink- and brown-skinned worshipers join a solitary brown-skinned person who somehow “[doesn’t] pray as some people pray” on a church pew, a smiling, pink-skinned worshiper’s declaration that “we’re all, I see, one family” raises echoes of the problematic assertion, “I don’t see color.” The speakers’ exclamations of “But I won’t!” after noting others’ prejudiced behavior reads more as self-congratulation than promise of inclusion. Sanders’ geometric, doll-like human figures are cheery but stiff, and the text’s bold, uppercase typeface switches jarringly to cursive for the refrain, “That’s how I’ll show my love for you.” Characters’ complexions include paper-white, yellow, pink, and brown.
An unfortunately simplistic delivery of a well-intentioned message. (Picture book. 4-6)Pub Date: March 17, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-4236-5395-0
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Gibbs Smith
Review Posted Online: Jan. 20, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
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