WE HAD A PICNIC THIS SUNDAY PAST

The teaming of Woodson and Greenseid is a marriage made in heaven: vivacious, finger-snapping prose and electric paintings full of attitude.

The scene is an urban park where a family picnic is gathering speed. A grandmother and the young narrator arrive with fried chicken, biscuits, and quick, stunning comments on each and every family member as they appear, sometimes as asides and sometimes with hoots and sass. Every contribution to the picnic table is judged, and the folks who come empty-handed are in for a good ribbing: “Nobody can eat that smile you brought for the cameras, Moon Pie.” Bible-thumpers show up, as do cousins mean, sweet, and shifty. Grandma’s paramour appears, and everyone awaits Cousin Martha’s arrival, with her dreaded dry apple pie—“You better eat every bite of it so you don’t hurt Martha’s feelings.” For that sentiment is the heart of this book: Despite the teasing and joking, the gathering of the grand African-American extended family brims with love and acceptance.

When they sit down at a table of plenty—with two luxurious store-bought cakes as Cousin Martha’s contribution—and the narrator says, “You should have been there,” readers will have to agree.