THE BONES OF FRED MCFEE

A brother and sister bring home a plastic skeleton from the harvest fair, hang him in their sycamore tree, and name him Fred McFee. When the wind blows, his bones go clickety-clack. Old dog Sam now avoids the tree and “the rooster’s gone and the hens won’t lay, / since we got Fred McFee.” Then: “The dark is dropping like a cowl— / There’s no star to be seen. / What’s wrong with Sam? We hear him howl / This night of Halloween.” The next morning McFee has vanished, gone from the sycamore tree, but below is a mound they know is a grave and they mark the spot with pebbles and shells. Now when the wind howls and shakes the tree, “We hear them dancing the dance of the dead—those bones of Fred McFee!” Told in rhyme with the rhythm of an old narrative poem, the story will work as a scary read-aloud but it’s the attractive illustrations that cast the spell. The combination of smartly designed compositions and elongated perspectives creates an engrossingly eerie effect. The lines of the scratchboard and watercolors etch dimension into the shapes, pulling the scenes up in dramatic fashion. Jack-o’-lanterns shift from friendly to fearsome as they loom open-mouthed in the foreground. Fred is no namby-pamby skeleton; this is spookiness with attitude and a great new addition to Halloween shelves. (Picture book. 5-8)