LUCI SOARS

Who needs shadows anyway?

Luci certainly doesn’t. But soon people start noticing that even in the brightest of sunlight, Luci is missing hers. From the time she is a baby, she is hyperaware that people are judging her. As a toddler, she learns to walk in the shadows of others. However, one day at school she stops huddling in the gloom and ventures into the light. The cruel taunts of classmates drive her first to tears and then to rebellion. Finding herself no longer anchored to the ground by shadows of people or things, she soars through the city and experiences the liberating power of just being herself, taking on vibrant color that contrasts with the black-and-white world around her. Delacre’s sparse text reads more as a stream of consciousness than a story. Punctuated by a smattering of Spanish, Luci’s thoughts range from disjointed musings to powerful observations: “Mean shadows pointed. / Mean shadows laughed. / Mean shadows stared / their icy stares.” The illustrations also meander in quality, from the strikingly textured shadows to an inconsistently portrayed Luci. Peculiarly, an image of Luci crawling is partnered with the line, “But I grew up.” Luci’s apparent age continues to weirdly fluctuate—when she’s walking with her mother after the flying adventure, she appears younger than when she’s soaring. She then appears as a preteen in the final panel. (This book was reviewed digitally with 11-by-18-inch double-page spreads viewed at actual size.)

This urban fable encourages readers to claim their space but may provoke more questions than answers.