A visually stunning folktale that could benefit from further plot and character development.
Gamarra offers an illustrated children’s tale inspired by Japanese folklore about a mischievous child and a mythical creature.
The story centers on Kai, a boy who lives in the town of Willow Creek and loves storytelling. He shares a tale with his friends about water-dwelling Kappas—green creatures who have turtlelike skin, webbed fingers, and bowl-shaped heads filled with water. They’re tricksters who snatch children, Kai says, so one must keep their distance and speak respectfully to them. Kai’s storytelling scares the kids, and a nearby baker, Mr. Peterson, tells him to stop. The boy retreats to a creek and cries out, “Kappas, come out and get me if you can!” Nothing happens, but Kai runs back to town, shouting that a Kappa tried to get him. Mr. Peterson and the children come to the creek but see no Kappas. Later, Kai tries to find a Kappa again, and a terrifying creature with froglike eyes, stringy hair, and a gap-toothed grin emerges from the water. The Kappa invites the boy for a swim and tries to grab him. Kai remembers to be respectful and apologizes for his teasing and lies. The Kappa bows before disappearing into the creek. Kai runs back to town to report the sighting, but no one believes him; still, whenever someone calls out “Kappa,” the children bow, just in case. Gamarra explores themes of honesty, politeness, and consequences in this children’s book, and her protagonist embodies a relatable curiosity and rascality that will draw readers in. The prose is detailed and evocative, especially regarding the Kappa’s appearance: “A crown of slick, black hair surrounded the strange bowl-like head, neatly balancing the water inside as if it were a little pond.” Pilosio’s intricate full-color illustrations, feature varied textures and create an immersive, ancient ambiance for Kai’s adventures. However, although Gamarra sustains suspenseful tension throughout the book, the confrontation with the Kappa feels oddly anticlimactic. It’s also unclear why Mr. Peterson, rather than a relative, is the only named adult in Kai’s life.
A visually stunning folktale that could benefit from further plot and character development.Pub Date: N/A
ISBN: N/A
Page Count: -
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: Jan. 21, 2025
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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BOOK REVIEW
While this is a fairly bland treatment compared to Deborah Lee Rose and Carey Armstrong-Ellis’ The Twelve Days of...
Rabe follows a young girl through her first 12 days of kindergarten in this book based on the familiar Christmas carol.
The typical firsts of school are here: riding the bus, making friends, sliding on the playground slide, counting, sorting shapes, laughing at lunch, painting, singing, reading, running, jumping rope, and going on a field trip. While the days are given ordinal numbers, the song skips the cardinal numbers in the verses, and the rhythm is sometimes off: “On the second day of kindergarten / I thought it was so cool / making lots of friends / and riding the bus to my school!” The narrator is a white brunette who wears either a tunic or a dress each day, making her pretty easy to differentiate from her classmates, a nice mix in terms of race; two students even sport glasses. The children in the ink, paint, and collage digital spreads show a variety of emotions, but most are happy to be at school, and the surroundings will be familiar to those who have made an orientation visit to their own schools.
While this is a fairly bland treatment compared to Deborah Lee Rose and Carey Armstrong-Ellis’ The Twelve Days of Kindergarten (2003), it basically gets the job done. (Picture book. 4-7)Pub Date: June 21, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-06-234834-0
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Harper/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: May 3, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2016
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BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
This warm family story is a splendid showcase for the combined talents of Medina, a Pura Belpré award winner, and Dominguez,...
Abuela is coming to stay with Mia and her parents. But how will they communicate if Mia speaks little Spanish and Abuela, little English? Could it be that a parrot named Mango is the solution?
The measured, evocative text describes how Mia’s español is not good enough to tell Abuela the things a grandmother should know. And Abuela’s English is too poquito to tell Mia all the stories a granddaughter wants to hear. Mia sets out to teach her Abuela English. A red feather Abuela has brought with her to remind her of a wild parrot that roosted in her mango trees back home gives Mia an idea. She and her mother buy a parrot they name Mango. And as Abuela and Mia teach Mango, and each other, to speak both Spanish and English, their “mouths [fill] with things to say.” The accompanying illustrations are charmingly executed in ink, gouache, and marker, “with a sprinkling of digital magic.” They depict a cheery urban neighborhood and a comfortable, small apartment. Readers from multigenerational immigrant families will recognize the all-too-familiar language barrier. They will also cheer for the warm and loving relationship between Abuela and Mia, which is evident in both text and illustrations even as the characters struggle to understand each other. A Spanish-language edition, Mango, Abuela, y yo, gracefully translated by Teresa Mlawer, publishes simultaneously.
This warm family story is a splendid showcase for the combined talents of Medina, a Pura Belpré award winner, and Dominguez, an honoree. (Picture book. 4-7)Pub Date: Aug. 25, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-7636-6900-3
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Candlewick
Review Posted Online: April 14, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2015
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