CAROL AND THE PICKLE-TOAD

Don’t let the pigeon snatch the hat!

Alas, it seems young Carol is doomed to go bareheaded—for not only does a pigeon get the rude, demanding live toad that habitually rides atop her billowing brown locks as she rides her bicycle around town, but the ersatz replacement she concocts out of a pickle and two halves of a hard-boiled egg too! Carol’s subsequent discovery that losing the bossy voice in (OK, on) her head leaves her free to go where she wants, say what she wants, and eat what and with whom she wants adds a message about the rewards of cultivating a voice of one’s own…but if the toads are supposed to be metaphors they’re obscure ones, and younger audiences at least will likely be satisfied just enjoying the silly bits. Large red eyeglasses make this White urbanite easy to spot as she wheels or paces through busy streets and crowded shops, past fellow city dwellers who are not only thoroughly diverse of race, age, and dress, but sport a wild profusion of headgear. Sharp-eyed viewers will also find plenty of business going on in the backgrounds and visible through nearly every window in the low-rise buildings. Shapiro may be channeling Mo Willems with the pigeon (and maybe Maira Kalman with the art), but this luxuriant, chapeau-centric appreciation of city living exudes a free-wheeling spirit of its own. (This book was reviewed digitally with 11-by-17-inch double-page spreads viewed at 77% of actual size.)

A tip of the cap to this droll tribute to the freedom that comes from getting out from under the toad.