MY MAMA

An elephant calf gives readers his imaginative perspective on life with Mama.

Van Haeringen’s tongue is firmly in cheek here. The opening spread shows a very pregnant, upright mama elephant wearing a white dress with colorful designs; the text reads: “I’ve known my mama for a long time. / For my whole life, actually.” A page turn later, the calf, sporting white pants covered in large orange stars, is old enough to be playing with toy cars with Mama, explaining that it’s good fun as long as she helps clean up. And so the book continues, readers never sure where the page turn will lead them: to the market, the swings, mountain climbing (up Mama’s not inconsiderable bulk). Readers will enjoy the perspective of the calf, but even more, they’ll like to be in on jokes the earnest narrator misses: The child likes “watering the plants” (a little urination joke) but notices that “when I do, it always starts to rain”—Mama stands behind with a watering can. Still, the book as a whole suffers from the lack of a solid narrative arc. Though the simple compositions on generous white space keep the focus on the relationship, it’s not quite enough to make up for the basic absence of a plot, though the last page comes close: “At bedtime, my mama shakes the stars off my pants.”

A sweet but plotless mother-child interlude.