VIDA

Artistically minded rodents fight back against their feline terrorizer in Tonatiuh’s prescient fable.

On a dreadful, star-filled night, a looming shadow (“¡Un gato!”) falls over the bustling, effervescent town of Mousetepec, and everything changes. As the cat uses its terrible claws to frighten the residents, Mousetepec loses its colorful spirit: The mousefolk stay home, the mercado closes, the fiestas stop, the plaza remains quiet, and the raspado cart stands abandoned. To bring cheer back into their lives, Vida and her brother, Máximo, start painting household objects—containers, jugs, bottles—in kaleidoscopic colors while transforming old buckets and cereal boxes into vibrant masks. When Máximo wanders outside in an ill-timed attempt to bring color back to the town, Vida rushes to his aid, donning one of their frightfully colorful masks to scare the lunging cat away. The confrontation spurs Vida to dream of a large neon creature called an alebrije, which inspires a plan to scare away the creature that’s been menacing Mousetepec. Tonatiuh expertly maintains a brisk pace that engages and tickles. His familiar pre-Columbian-flavored artwork beautifully complements this simply told yet moving fable of collective resistance, boasting bursts of color and provocative shadows across splendid double-page spreads. Insightful backmatter on alebrijes—folk art sculptures—and the tale’s origins draw incisive parallels between the art form’s history in Mexico and the increasing violence that has afflicted the country over the past few decades.

Utterly mesmerizing.