I wish I could recommend this book. It’s beautifully illustrated, and full of beautiful sentiments about the American people. It certainly represents all sorts of things I want to be true. But it is so idealized it makes broad generalized statements that aren’t necessarily true of all Americans: when discussing the natural beauty of the land, it states, “Americans know that all these things are gifts to be cherished and protected, and passed on to future generations of Americans.” Yet we hear regularly in the news that a large percentage of Americans believe these things need to be exploited for economic gain. The book declares America a place, “where hard work is rewarded; where people can climb as high as their hearts and minds can reach.” As much as we all like to believe this to be true, it is not always the reality experienced by all Americans. I even debated giving this book a Not Recommended rating, but I’m going soft on it because I want it to be true.

I love this book! Surely, everyone who has ever read this book must love it. The illustrations are detailed and beautiful and full of personality. The language is rich and the story is multi-layered. When a baby fruit bat gets separated from her mother and falls into a nest of baby birds, she does her best to fit in, eating the bugs that mother bird brings, sleeping by night, and not hanging by her toes.  But then she flies ahead one day during flight practice, and instead of flying back to the nest at dusk, she stays out on her own past dark, where she meets others like herself, who teach her how to be a bat again. And she gets reunited with her mother, too.  When she returns to the nest to share all her new discoveries with her bird friends, things don’t quite go as planned, but they all decide their friendship overrides all their differences.

I feel like I am supposed to give this book a stronger rating, as it won an award in Holland. But if I am honest, I personally found both the story and the illustrations a bit odd. The story is about a knitting goat whose creations come to life. She starts out knitting goats, but when challenged by a neighbor she gets carried away and knits a wolf, who ends up eating the neighbor. When she knits a tiger to eat the wolf, it does, but then it turns on her. She finally figures out to knit a monster to eat the tiger, but not to let it off the needles, so after he eats the tiger she unravels the monster and keeps unraveling the other creatures until she sets her neighbor free.

If i were to judge solely on the illustrations, I would probably give this book an R*:  The illustrations are fabulous, somehow managing to be space-agish while having a certain vintage quality at the same time. But I am less thrilled with the text:  at times the rhythm seems a bit forced, and it can’t seem to decide whether it wants to be factual or fanciful. The rhyming text tells of an adventure on a rocket that only flies once a year,to fly out among the stars and see a giant banner wishing the earth happy birthday.  The last page offers some informational text explaining roughly how old the earth is, and potting the light power of the sun in terms of birthday candles.

The bright, graphic art is appealing to young readers, and keeps the monsters on the silly side instead of the scary side. The text rhymes. It’s got a cute surprise factor at the end, when monster number 10 turns out to be the narrator’s own sock puppet luring the others into a trap. He claims he intends to ship them far away, but the illustrations hint that perhaps he’s come to like them after all.

As with the other Sophie books, this one deals with one those struggles every child faces at some time or another; in this case, the frustration of facing a challenge when something doesn’t come easy, and working past, “I can’t.”  It teaches kids that we grow our brains by exercising them, and that the power of the word, “yet,” lies in the reminder that what we can’t do now we can learn to do by sticking with the challenges until we can.

It reads like What to Expect When You’re Expecting and Baby’s First Year, except written for kids from kids’ perspective.  The voice is authentic, sounding like the advice is coming some kids who have been there, sharing their own experiences and suggestions about what it’s like getting a new baby in the family.  The concerns and observations that are addressed really are the kinds of things kids would notice and care about, with headings such as “Meet the Conehead,” and “The Real Scoop on Baby Poop.”

It tells an important story, that is all too real for too many children in this world: that of a young boy in a war-torn country whose family must flee their home in the middle of the night, and in the midst of the violence, our main character must run away on his own.  He makes his way alone to a refugee camp where there are too few resources and where bullies and gangs bring another kind of violence.  His one bit of home he is able to recreate for himself in the camp is a handmade soccer ball fashioned from banana leaves.  When a volunteer soccer coach arrives to organize some sport for the children of the camp, he gets put on the same team as the biggest bully, and being teammates begins to break down barriers between the two boys.  And their friendship continues to grow after the volunteer leaves, as they make more balls and continue to play soccer with the other children in the camp.  The back of the book includes information about various world-wide organizations that help children develop citizenship skills through play.

It’s a clearly written, rather comprehensive text that lives up to its title, covering such topics as The World Cup, famous players, equipment, positions, history, women in the sport, etc.  It’s illustrated with full-color photos that are well-placed to support the text.  The graphic layout is enough to highlight specific aspects of the text without being distracting.  And it’s got a lovely, sturdy binding.

It’s trying to be some sort of Fiction/Non-Fiction hybrid, combining a be-a-good-sport story with a bunch of informational blurbs and jokes.  The problem is that the informational blurbs and jokes are stuck in rather randomly, and interfere with the flow of the story, and the story isn’t strong enough on its own to stand up to the interruptions. It’s rather lame and pedantic.

I am normally reluctant to consider spending close to $20 for a book with so little text, but in this case I approve.  The familiar, rhythmic, rhyming text of three nursery rhymes (It’s Raining, It’s Pouring; The Itsy Bitsy Spider; Mary Had a Little Lamb) is broken down to a single phrase per page, which is paired nicely with supporting illustrations, making this a perfect tool for emergent readers.  Plus, it’s got a really sturdy binding.

It really is strictly for the very youngest students (PreK-K), as a tool for allaying fears or nerves that may arise from having a substitute teacher.  The illustrations are cute and inviting and support the text.  The story is written in rhyme, but I’m afraid the rhythm is a bit stilted/awkward at times.  It tells of a small kitten’s worries when she doesn’t see her teacher there to greet her as usual, and the questions that she has about how they will manage without her, but of course in the end it all turns out just fine.

This fanciful picture book biography of Lewis Carroll gives the reader a good sense of who the author was and how the famous “Alice in Wonderland” came to be.  Sprinkled with Lewis’s imaginary words and signature phrases, and draws the reader into wanting to read the works from which they come.

I love the illustrations.  They’re fabulous, and combined with and intriguing title, they drew me in, but then the story fell flat. The subtitle is, “Young Mel Blanc…before he was the Man of 1,000 Voices.”  But the only parts of the book that told us anything about who Mel Blanc was are the flyleaf and the author’s note in the back — the parts kids don’t read.  The text of the body itself did nothing to develop this character or give the reader a reason to care about his imagination.

I would like it better if it were about grandparents than I do with it being about Dad.  Grandparents are supposed to spoil kids.  Dads are supposed to parents, and this book feeds into the stereotype of Mom being the real parent, and Dad getting to be the loafer.  When Mom is gone for the evening,  and Dad is in charge, Clare keeps trying to tell her dad how Mom would do things, but he keeps saying he’s doing it Dad’s way, which includes more fun, desert for dinner, and extra stories and kisses before bed, so of course Clare ends the story by asking if Dad can be in charge again tomorrow.

A fox mom tells her kiddos all things they are to her, in a series of endearments that all end in, “boo.”  It’s got rhythm and rhyme and repetition.  The illustrations add a sense of story as they move through their day, making the point, that no matter what happens, “you will always be my boo.”

The entire text of the book amounts to a spin-off of “Marco Polo:” a toddler calls out, “Rutabaga?” and Mom replies with “Boo.” The illustrations are nice enough as they show the two going through their day, but there doesn’t ever seem to emerge any real meaning behind the call and response, nor enough of a story within the illustrations to count as a (nearly) wordless book.

It’s cute.  It tells of all a young boy imagines about what his folks get up to “way past bedtime.”  He makes plans to stay up and spy, to catch them in the act, but when he creeps downstairs he finds them snoring on the couch.  However the final illustrations offer the reader hints that perhaps those sneaky parents had been up to more than they let on.  The illustrations have the look of television cartoons, which makes sense when you read the illustrator’s blurb, as that is his background.

As with other Mr. King stories, he takes some idea too far, aiming for good, but learning from his friends about why it turns out to be not a good idea after all.  In this case, Mr. King likes flowers, but he doesn’t like when the caterpillars eat them, so he builds a machine to chase down and capture the caterpillar, only to learn that the smoke spit out my his machine and the plants it trampled were bigger problems, especially given that he neglected to ponder the benefits the caterpillar offers to the flowers once he turns into a butterfly.  So he turns his caterpillar-catching machine into a seed scattering machine that operates on smoke-free breath power.

It’s a bedtime counting book told in rhyme.  The illustrations add to the bedtime quality of the book, with lots of shades and blue and purple and green, and soft blurry edges that make them seem sleepy.  It counts back from ten, with good rhythm and rhyme and alliteration describing a variety of animals on their way to bed.

The themes of the poems are all relatable and humorous, but the quality of the poetry is somewhat erratic:  some poems read smoothly with both rhythm and rhyme, while others seemed forced and awkward to read aloud.  The cartoonish illustrations suit the tone of the poems.

This is a beautiful book, with rich illustrations that serve well to set the scene and the tone of a story with a very timeless feel to it, with a classic Christmas message.  A young boy sets off with meager provisions to make a long trek to the village square for the traditional lighting of the Christmas torch, an honor that will be granted to whoever gives the truest gift of Christmas.  Along the way he meets an old man huddling in the snow.  He leaves his cloak and cider to warm the old man while he seeks help from someone strong enough to lift him, but when he gets to the village they are already closing the city gates, and no one is willing to leave, as the ceremony is about to begin.  After all the Christmas offerings are made the Keeper of the Light takes down his hood and invites the young boy forward to light the torch, as he is none other than the old man the boy helped in the woods.

This is a beautiful book.  It’s the kind you want to buy three copies of so that you always have a baby shower gift on hand.  It is a love poem between mother and child, sharing all the hopes and dreams a mother holds for her child.  It shares small bits of wisdom and advice.  The illustrations are beautiful and whimsical and are well-paired with the text.

This is a complex book.  It’s not a light read.  It can serve readers who read for a variety of purposes, and for the right audiences it would be worthy of a “Highly Recommended” rating.  It is a picture book biography of an artist (James Castle) who was unknown to me, but is apparently well-known in certain artistic circles.  As such it would be well-suited to students of art.  It rather starkly tells of the horrific treatment he received, growing up in the early part of the twentieth century, before society knew much about how to meet the needs of special-needs children: deaf, mute, autistic, and quite likely dyslexic, he was deemed uneducable and neglected and isolated, yet still managed to develop his own art.  As such it is a useful tale for students of history and education and the social sciences.  Some things contribute to it being a bit of a confusing read:  it opens with the voice of James’ nephew using the first person to tell the reader he’d like to introduce his uncle, and since the book is written by Allen Say, it begins by giving the reader the faulty sense that James is Allen’s uncle.  Also, since it is an illustrated biography of an artist, the reader is left a bit unsure whether any of the artwork included is that of the subject, or if it’s all the illustrator’s, emulating the style of the subject?

I love this book!  The illustrations are cute and full of personality. The story is a celebration of words, a celebration of daring to venture beyond our comfort zones to explore the wider world, a celebration of books.  A little mouse who has been raised in a nest of torn words watches his siblings leave home to make their way, but has no desire to do so himself.  When pushed off by those who love him, he sets forth looking very Indiana Jones-ish, to discover the world is full of more words, and he becomes a seeker of words, even when it means braving the beastly cat, but in the end it is the cat who shows him the world of words to be found inside books.