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
Cheng’s story of a Chinese-speaking grandfather who comes to live with his daughter’s English-speaking family ably communicates the difficulties of the language barrier, and the unanticipated joys that come from working your way through that barrier. Helen is ambivalent about the arrival of her grandfather, Gong Gong, from China. She wants to know her grandfather, but she has had to surrender her room and her cherished view of the train tracks to him. Worst of all, he doesn’t understand what she says, and as she doesn’t understand him, he withdraws. Her mother says to give him some space and time. One day while Helen is sitting on the back wall, Gong Gong joins her, and together they count the train cars as the freight rumbles past. Contact. Helen learns the first eight numbers in Chinese and Gong Gong learns them in English. From there it is a short leap to Helen’s Chinese name and its Chinese characters, and then the letters used to spell Helen. That every journey starts with a first step is a commonplace conceit, but here the notion fits so snugly the point practically sings, and it feels like an adventurous beginning at that. Lushly colored artwork from Zhang is both elegant and captures the moods of tentativeness, surprise, and satisfaction. (Picture book. 4-6)
Pub Date: Oct. 1, 2000
ISBN: 1-58430-010-8
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Lee & Low Books
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2000
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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
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