HORACE P. TUTTLE

Fruity artwork in deep color helps put some luster into this agenda-driven story. Horace P. Tuttle fancies himself a magician extraordinaire, though his hand is more ham than sleight: he pokes his assistant Trixie during the sword-in-the-box trick; the rabbit sneezes in Horace’s pocket when he should be getting pulled from his hat; the love bird mopes through his silken-scarf routine. Horace berates them in the dressing room: “How is the audience supposed to believe my magic tricks if you keep shrieking and sneezing?” They try to explain, but Horace calls them an ungrateful bunch. He’s on the marquee; they can go take a hike. And so they do. Horace soon learns that things can get a whole lot worse. Without his assistants, his incompetence falls squarely on his shoulders and he’s booed off the stage. Reduced to performing on the sidewalk, he bumps into his old pals. Why not get together? Why not, they reply, having had none too easy a time of it themselves. Their new act—“The 5 Fantasticoes”—is sure to be a smash hit. Schneider’s message comes at readers like a freight train—actually, like a trick in the hands of Horace P. Tuttle: artless and obvious. But the illustrations have enough fanciful glamour on their own to float the show. (Picture book. 4-7)