I DO NOT LIKE WATER

When it comes to water, Alf marches to a different drumbeat.

Throughout most of this charming Swedish import, light-skinned Alf is clad in orange pants, a yellow shirt, knee-high black boots, and a fitted pink cap; it’s easy to spot the young narrator among the group of racially diverse kids wearing clothes from the cooler side of the color spectrum. As the book begins, Alf stands on a rock in a stream, tying a homemade sailboat to a tree while complaining about all things aquatic: “Down with rain, lakes, / rivers, seas, puddles, pools, / oceans, streams, marshes, ponds, / brooks, and creeks!” Alf exists mostly on the margins of the group of friends, dipping a boot into the swimming pool and recoiling upon getting wet, capsizing a canoe before the trip even begins, and staying home while the others collect tadpoles in the stream. Lindström’s gouache and watercolor landscapes combine texture, natural beauty, and funny little details, with the moods changing with the seasons or weather. Oddly, Alf enjoys sledding; frozen water doesn’t seem to bother the child. By book’s end, the protagonist has found a creative way to enjoy the pool. This is a refreshingly unsentimental and matter-of-fact take on being different, devoid of heavy-handed moralizing or intervention from adult characters. The children's interpersonal dynamics and body language are left for young readers to absorb and ponder, and they'll linger over both text and art—and be heartened by Alf's trajectory.

A delightful celebration of acceptance in all its forms.