An unseen first-person narrator tries to draw scary beasts.
“I want to make the scariest monster ever!” opens the protagonist, planning to give the creature “a long, green tongue” so it will be “a monster masterpiece—MY MONSTERPIECE!” The first spread shows paints, brushes, and the abstract beginnings of the monster. The second spread shows the finished piece of art. What go unseen, though the text mentions them, are the human characters. The protagonist tries to spook Mom with the picture, but instead she’s enchanted: “I love this chubby kitty,” she says. Three more iterations use the same structure: Protagonist draws a monster with a seemingly scary feature (pointy horns, sharp teeth, claws) and fails to frighten loved ones, who all cheerfully misidentify and mischaracterize the images (“Great job painting an owl!” says Dad; “It’s so cute!” says sister). No humans appear visually until the end, and even then they are child-style stick figures, and a concluding twist in which monsters draw scary kids is more confusing than compelling. Due to these factors, the appeal of this book lies in Hoffman’s portrayal of artistic media. Backgrounds are graph paper, patterned papers, and (perhaps) a lilac-painted board; crayons, paints, pencils, and collages are shown lushly mid-use; scissors, fabrics, and pompoms make vivid cameos. The monster-creation plot is fun, but this is more an invitation to make art.
Have the art table and smocks ready.
(Picture book. 4-8)