Review by Booklist Review
Ages 5^-8. Stewart's quiet story, relayed in the form of letters written by a little girl, focuses on a child who literally makes joy blossom. Small's illustrations are a bit more softly focused than usual, but they're still recognizably his, with wonderfully expressive characters, ink-line details, and patches of pastel. Their muted backgrounds convey perfectly the urban 1930s setting where most of the story takes place. When hard times hit her family, Lydia Grace is shipped off to stay with her somber, undemonstrative uncle who owns a city bakery. She makes the best of her stay by helping out and by pursuing her favorite pastime, gardening, a talent she uses to make her uncle smile--in a very unusual way. In the end, she receives not simply one reward for her kindness but two. --Stephanie Zvirin
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Late in the summer of 1935, Lydia Grace's parents are out of work, and to help make ends meet they send Lydia Grace to live with Uncle Jim, a baker in the city, "until things get better." Told entirely through Lydia Grace's letters, the story radiates her utterly (and convincingly) sunny personality. Before she leaves, for example, she writes Uncle Jim with a list of "important things that I'm too shy to say to your face: 1. I know a lot about gardening, but nothing about baking. 2. I'm anxious to learn to bake, but is there any place to plant seeds?" With a subtlety finely attuned to Stewart's quietly emotional narrative, Small shows the hardy nature of the girl's optimism: she works long hours in her uncle's bakery and stays cheerful in his bleak apartment. Bloom by bloom, Lydia Grace adds splashes of color to her drab surroundings, eventually transforming a littered rooftop into a splendid garden as a surprise for her somber-faced but kind uncle. This inspiring offering from creative collaborators (The Library) gets much of its vitality from what it leaves unsaid: at first Lydia Grace misses her home and her garden; and, even though Uncle Jim never once succumbs to her plans to make him smile, she succeeds in bringing him happiness. The final picture, of Uncle Jim hugging Lydia Grace good-bye at the train station 10 months after her arrival, the bakery cat tucked in a carrier to accompany her home, speaks volumes about the vast impact one small individual can make. All ages. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
PreS-Gr 2When the Depression hits her family, Lydia Grace, 10, leaves her snug rural home and journeys alone by train to a nearby city to live with dour Uncle Jim "until things get better." Her suitcase is filled with seeds given to her by Grandma, who has taught her how to garden. Lydia Grace is a resilient child and is not daunted by dreary buildings, her dreary uncle, and his dreary bakery. Instead, she sees the empty window boxes and makes plans to fill them with flowers in the spring. She also plans to put a smile on her uncle's face. And she does. Come spring, the bakery is filled with flowers and many customers. Her greatest joy is the beautiful garden she has created on a once-barren, trash-strewn roof. Uncle Jim rewards her with his equivalent of a smile, a cake covered with flowery frosting. The story is mostly told in the double-paged, cartoonlike, and richly detailed illustrations. The brief text is in the form of letters, first to Uncle Jim and then to her family. Words are not needed to describe Lydia Grace's feelings when she arrives alone in the huge barren train station; when she shows off her horticultural talents; and when, finally, she returns to a sunnier train station on her way home. The detailed pictures bring the 1930s to life, especially the posters advertising bread for five cents a loaf. This is a story to share one-on-one, talking about the pictures together and then poring over the details alone.Virginia Golodetz, St. Michael's College, Winooski, VT (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
(Intermediate) Michael Dorris's adult novels Yellow Raft in Blue Water and Cloud Chamber chronicle the deceptions and betrayals that nearly destroy a family, generation after generation. Yellow Raft in Blue Water moves from the present generation of fifteen-year-old Rayona back through two generations of women on her maternal side, while Cloud Chamber opens in nineteenth-century Ireland and moves forward through five generations of Rayona's paternal family. Whereas these two books convey how suffocating and harmful relationships can be, The Window throws itself open to the strengths of familial bonds. From the moment eleven-year-old Rayona sits by the window waiting for the return of her frequently delinquent mother, this novel pulsates forward with an energy and wit that never falters. In lively contrast to Dorris's more somber historical novels for children, the seemingly cocky but vulnerable and emotionally needy Rayona narrates this short novel with a breezy, spunky voice. When her Indian mother does not return from her latest binge to declare their usual "National Holiday" (on which she and Rayona can eat breakfast for supper and practice being best friends), Rayona's philandering black father informs her that her mother has checked into a rehab center, but that he is unable to care for Rayona. Her foster placement with the relentlessly cheerful Potters (Rayona is amazed to discover that "there are actual people like this who aren't on a weekly sitcom") proves short-lived and disastrous; placement with the stolid Mrs. Jackson turns to unexpected fun for them both but is likewise cut short. Rayona senses that her father, in talking with her about his family (with whom she will live next) is "leaving something out, some detail, some secret within a secret, but I am so anxious to find out what happened next, to get to the 'me' part, that I let it go by." The Window is all the "me part," keeping the exuberant narrator squarely in the middle as she finds her place in the secrets of her family. Rayona soon learns that her grandmother (her father's mother) is white-a fact he tells Rayona when he is taking her to meet her grandmother for the first time. Rayona resolves not to miss another word for the rest of her life. Sitting in the window seat of the airplane, she understands that she will never again "be able to look out a small window and see [her] whole world from it." With the introduction of Rayona's great-grandmother, the ancient and proper Mamaw, her sensible and wise Aunt Edna, and her grandmother Marcella (a "vanilla Hostess cupcake" of a woman), Dorris's novel becomes yet more unguarded as these three women embrace their young relative with unconditional love. No scene feels more genuinely celebratory than when her aunt and grandmother travel west with Rayona to return her home. Having installed a device atop their car to provide cool air-a contrivance that re-quires the windows to be rolled up-the three must shout to be heard, causing a cacophony of "beg your pardons." When Grand-mother opens the window, thinking to be chastised but instead winning the approval of everyone as the cooler sails away, all three break into hilarity and song. Without glos-sing over the hurt and pain of parental abandonment, this novel of open win-dows is a joy, a "national holiday" to which we can return any day of the week. s.p.b. Picture Books Marc Brown Arthur's Computer Disaster; illus. by the author (Preschool, Younger) Arthur knows he's not supposed to be using his mother's computer, but the lure of Deep, Dark Sea, "the greatest game in the universe," is irresistible. Predictably, the computer breaks; luckily, it's easy to fix; reassuringly, Mom is not mad, just disappointed. She decrees that there will be no computer gaming for a week-at least for Arthur: "'I'll be right up,' called Mom. 'As soon as I blast these skeletons from the treasure chest.'" "Adapted by Marc Brown from a teleplay by Joe Fallon," this story of mild disaster followed by mild reproof will be a pleasant diversion for fans of the popular TV personality. r.s. Eve Bunting Ducky; illus. by David Wisniewski (Preschool) David Wisniewski's Caldecott-winning paper-cutting talents get a comedic workout here, illustrating Bunting's slightly sly text about a plastic duck who, along with thousands of fellow bathtub toys, is washed overboard when a storm hits the freighter ferrying them across the ocean (Bunting supplies a note about the factual event that inspired the story). The duck tells the story ("Our ship has disappeared. The sea is big, big, big. Oh, I am scared!"), including an unfortunate encounter with a shark ("It shakes its head and spits us out. I expect we are not too tasty, though we are guaranteed non-toxic") and the basic existential dilemma of a bathtub toy out of its element: "I wish we could swim and get away. But all we can do is float." The ocean's currents eventually bring the duck to shore alongside many of his compatriots, and he finally achieves his destiny, floating in the security of a bubblebath. This is an out-of-the way excursion for both author and illustrator, and if Wisniewski's pictures are sometimes too weighty for Bunting's buoyant text, they are certainly splashy enough. r.s. H Peter Collington A Small Miracle (Younger) The creator of On Christmas Eve (reviewed 11/90) revisits that significant night in another masterfully executed wordless picture book. The artist's trademark sequential frames make the experience of turning the pages like watching a movie; this time it's a gripping, matter-of-factly magical story of charity and selflessness rewarded. In the midst of a bustling, prosperous contemporary village, a desperate old woman loses every-thing when she sells her sole prized possession-her accordion-and then is robbed. On her way home, she encounters the same thief attempting (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
This latest collaboration from Stewart and Small (The Library, 1995, not reviewed) is the Depression-era story of young Lydia Grace Finch, whose family's financial woes are the occasion for Lydia's extended stay in the city with dour Uncle Jim. Lydia's letters to her parents and Grandma, her beloved gardening partner, tell of her adjustment to the city, her work in her uncle's bakery, and of her determination to make her uncle smile. Meanwhile, the pictures show Lydia's gradual transformation of the drab shop and their apartment ``over the store,'' as she plants the seeds from Grandma in pots and tubs and flowerboxes in every possible space. Her pice de rsistance is the lush roof garden she cultivates in secret and springs on her uncle on the Fourth of July, earning Uncle Jim's equivalent of ``one thousand smiles,'' a huge cake elaborately decorated with flowers. It's a lovely story exemplifying the old adage, ``Brighten the corner where you are,'' and a good introduction to the epistolary form of storytelling. Small's marvelous pictures show the city in all its gritty variety- -pushcarts, pigeons, packing crates, fire escapes, awnings, nuns, bums, and dogs--and the scrawny, smiling bakery cat, Otis. (Picture book. 6+)
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
