THE SPIFFIEST GIANT IN TOWN

Never was a striptease worked to more beneficent ends as when George the humble and sartorially challenged giant starts taking it off, piece by piece. George is obviously no clotheshorse, but even he realizes that his patched and soiled gown has—yes, perhaps—gotten a little too shabby. So he drops in on the village haberdashery for some spiffy, new duds. Then, as he takes a promenade to air his new wardrobe, he gradually gives away the items: his tie to a giraffe with a cold neck, his shirt to a goat in need of a sail for his boat, his belt to a dog who wants to get through a bog (Donaldson throws in some natty rhymes). George doesn’t get down to the skinny, but near enough that when he discovers his old gown in the refuse pile, he’s a happy man once more; besides, those new clothes just didn’t set comfortably on George. Nevertheless, the recipients of his largesse crown him the kindliest giant for his generosity. A lovely piece of work, from the upbeat, musical writing—“George strode on, singing to himself, ‘My tie is a scarf for a cold giraffe, / My shirt’s on a boat as a sail for a goat, / But look me up and down— / I’m the spiffiest giant in town!’ ”—to the appealingly jokey art, with its crack visual storytelling and its clever insinuations of fairy-tale characters into the scenes. (Picture book. 4-8)