A PENGUIN STORY

Icy Antarctica is frustratingly monochromatic for Edna the penguin, so she forsakes playing (and occasionally even lunch) to scan the horizon for something else. What does she see as she gazes out at the relentless ice and snow? “White, thinks Edna. Like yesterday.” At night it’s, “Black. Like tomorrow” and the ocean is just, “Blue, blue, blue. Forever.” Life’s tricolor monotony lifts when she accidentally crashes into a safety-orange “something else”—a large tent set up in a scientists’ camp. “WOW!” she cries, and, endearingly, proceeds to hug what she can of it. Snow falls on spare, artfully composed landscapes in rough dabs of paint, and the adorable penguins in thickly textured lines resemble earplugs with feet. Young readers may gleefully gloat when they spot things Edna doesn’t see at first—a bright orange plane flies by when her back is turned, and a green ship slips undetected into a double-page spread. The deliberately clashing endpapers, solid orange and green, extend the theme in this sweet story of yearning. (Picture book. 4-8)