DEAR FLYARY

It may have a loose tarsnaggle, a sticky megalad and a hole in the flyjacker, but Frazzle’s Model 7 spaceship is positively flixsome.

A little alien—with his one great dewy eye, he's a dear, cyclopean ant-head—gets a flyary (diary) for his dropday (birthday), which he duly fills with the joys and travails of his first spaceship. Same as it ever was: The spaceship works like a dream for a few months, then starts to give Frazzle the vapors when it starts make strange noises. Good old Wurpitz Hoolo, the whiz mechanic, assures him that Model 7s are known for their harmless, if odd boinks, piffles and ticks. Young lards the text with enough otherworldly words—noteymaker to exboom to peepered—to keep readers on their toes and to beef up what is essentially a story about remaining true to your old and trusty friends, in this case a spaceship that gradually turns from sleek sky-streaker to old jalopy (“But I still bigheart my little ‘rugger’ Model 7,” says Frazzle), despite the flash and dazzle of the new. Adding to the endearment factor are Martz’s illustrations, as shiny and color-shot as ribbon candy, from Hoolo’s classic mechanic’s shop to the traffic jam on the flyway.

There is much fun to be had sounding out words and guessing at their meaning and roots, as planet Harbat’s jabberwocky attests.