A manure manifesto for poo-ficionados.
Two little white mice can’t stop wondering what other animals’ (including humans’) fecal matter looks like.
A father mouse is taking his two little mice to the zoo, but only if they promise not to talk about poo. They’re barely out the door (which fronts on a child’s bedroom) when they notice a poster of an astronaut on the wall and, in whispers, wonder what astronaut waste looks like. “Shiny, silver, space-age poo! / Rocket-powered weightless poo, / and it spins round and round / like a planet does too!” Their guess at a pink poodle’s poo? “Tiny, pink, pom-pom poo!” (the same as the lady in the pink, frilly dress walking the poodle). They imagine a gourmet chef would poo on a china plate, and the balloon sculptor’s would be “squeaky, bendy, blow-up poo.” In the same vein, at the zoo, all their scatological supposition is that each animal’s poo is somehow similar to the animal itself (penguin poo is snowman-shaped). Finally, Daddy overhears and shows them what the zoo does with all the poo (fertilize the plants)…so all these supposed differences don’t matter. Bird’s rhyming text is conveyed entirely in dialogue, and the only real surprise is that it takes Daddy so long to overhear his children. Coppo’s paintings have a pleasing matte quality to them, and they rise to the text’s challenge in their various renderings of turds, most of which look like brown soft serve ice cream. (The poo in an actual ice cream cone may be too much for weaker constitutions.) Humans depicted are diverse.
A manure manifesto for poo-ficionados. (Picture book. 3-6)Pub Date: May 4, 2021
ISBN: 978-0-7352-6799-2
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Tundra Books
Review Posted Online: March 30, 2021
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2021
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A hymn to the intrinsic loveliness of the wild and the possibility of sharing it.
What happens when a robot washes up alone on an island?
“Everything was just right on the island.” Brown beautifully re-creates the first days of Roz, the protagonist of his Wild Robot novels, as she adapts to living in the natural world. A storm-tossed ship, seen in the opening just before the title page, and a packing crate are the only other human-made objects to appear in this close-up look at the robot and her new home. Roz emerges from the crate, and her first thought as she sets off up a grassy hill—”This must be where I belong”—is sweetly glorious, a note of recognition rather than conquest. Roz learns to move, hide, and communicate like the creatures she meets. When she discovers an orphaned egg—and the gosling Brightbill, who eventually hatches—her decision to be his mother seems a natural extension of her adaptation. Once he flies south for the winter, her quiet wait across seasons for his return is a poignant portrayal of separation and change. Brown’s clean, precise lines and deep, light-filled colors offer a sense of what Roz might be seeing, suggesting a place that is alive yet deeply serene and radiant. Though the book stands alone, it adds an immensely appealing dimension to Roz’s world. Round thumbnails offer charming peeks into the island world, depicting Roz’s animal neighbors and Brightbill’s maturation.
A hymn to the intrinsic loveliness of the wild and the possibility of sharing it. (author’s note) (Picture book. 3-6)Pub Date: June 24, 2025
ISBN: 9780316669467
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: March 22, 2025
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2025
Yes, the Pigeon has to go to school, and so do readers, and this book will surely ease the way.
All the typical worries and excuses kids have about school are filtered through Willems’ hysterical, bus-loving Pigeon.
Told mostly in speech balloons, the bird’s monologue will have kids (and their caregivers) in stitches at Pigeon’s excuses. From already knowing everything (except whatever question readers choose to provide in response to “Go ahead—ask me a question. / Any question!”) to fearing learning too much (“My head might pop off”), Pigeon’s imagination has run wild. Readers familiar with Pigeon will recognize the muted, matte backgrounds that show off the bird’s shenanigans so well. As in previous outings, Willems varies the size of the pigeon on the page to help communicate emotion, the bird teeny small on the double-page spread that illustrates the confession that “I’m… / scared.” And Pigeon’s eight-box rant about all the perils of school (“The unknown stresses me out, dude”) is marvelously followed by the realization (complete with lightbulb thought bubble) that school is the place for students to practice, with experts, all those skills they don’t yet have. But it is the ending that is so Willems, so Pigeon, and so perfect. Pigeon’s last question is “Well, HOW am I supposed to get there, anyway!?!” Readers will readily guess both the answer and Pigeon’s reaction.
Yes, the Pigeon has to go to school, and so do readers, and this book will surely ease the way. (Picture book. 3-6)Pub Date: July 2, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-368-04645-9
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Hyperion
Review Posted Online: May 7, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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