Review by New York Times Review
FOR 21st-century kids growing up surrounded by video games, iPods and YouTube, the idea of playing cat's cradle with a piece of string or snatching quarters off one's elbow may seem as quaint as the corncob dolls in "Little House in the Big Woods." In fact, one worries that all these old skills will be swatted aside by the Nintendo Wii's wireless controller. But now "The Encyclopedia of Immaturity" is here to preserve that knowledge - and to document a few hundred more goofy tips, tricks and gross-out moves of its own. The book, spiral-bound for easy page removal, is tucked inside a bright red cover depicting the "Mona Lisa" with a doodled Vandyke beard. This is a big clue to the level of humor inside. The table of contents reveals a collection of topics sure to intrigue children by name alone: "The Broom & Egg Whap," "Be a Rubber Band Ninja Warrior," "Make a Tomato Goosh Monster" and so on. Most of these undertakings are designed to inspire creativity without the use of a screen, a mouse or a joystick. This handbook of time-wasting fun was assembled by the editors of Klutz, a company that's been making how-to guides and other books since 1977. Activities range from connect-the-dots distractions to science-oriented projects like making a two-liter bottle of diet soda erupt like Mount Vesuvius by dropping a few Mentos mints into it. The Klutz editors have bridged generations of time-honored traditions here, setting down rules for such kiddie customs as calling shotgun, announcing "jinx" and playing truth or dare. Pretending to take off your thumb ("this is the fundamental body dismemberment skill"), bonking your head on a table and other sleight-of-hand pranks are fully illustrated as well, but the text is not about only ancient larks. Mixed in with the golden oldies are newer activities like tapping out tunes with cellphones or copying homemade videos of your eyes to your iPod. Dumb jokes, puzzles and other kid-friendly topics are sprinkled through the book's 400 pages, with explanations and commentary written in a sarcastic voice that most 11-year-olds will immediately identify with - if they are not using it with their parents already: "Set a toilet plunger on the floor two feet in front of the fridge. Your mother might like it to be clean. We don't care." With a nod to short attention spans, most activities are explained in just one or two pages. More complex tasks like how to ride a unicycle are spread over six or seven pages and offer plenty of step-by-step instructions. The book's design is as bouncy and energetic as its content, with each full-color page making use of large, eye-catching illustrations or photographs of kids (and sometimes adults) demonstrating the activity at hand. "The Encyclopedia of Immaturity" lives up to its title. The youthful fascination with bodily fluids, human or otherwise, is repeatedly embraced. Take, for example, "The Peanut Butter Booger Hunt," an arts-and-crafts project that involves filling an empty milk carton with peanut butter, taping a picture of a man to the side and then poking holes through the nostrils to get a finger full of Skippy. It's not an activity for the squeamish. Parents in homes with nice carpeting and upholstery may want to keep an eye on younger kids before turning them loose with any book that features a project called "Do-It-Yourself Dog Barf," but over all, this "encyclopedia" offers an entertaining mix of stunts that should appeal to a wide range of ages. Even adults who have forgotten how to properly throw a Frisbee or play tabletop football with a paper triangle may find themselves thumbing through the pages for a refresher course. There's no harm in that. As the writer Dave Barry (among others) has observed, "You're only young once, but you can always be immature." J.D. Biersdorfer is the production editor of the Book Review.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [October 27, 2009]
Review by Booklist Review
After hearing the weatherman forecast snow, two young children gleefully fantasize about various activities they can do if it snows enough to close school. Each activity snuggling on the sofa with hot chocolate, building a snow fort filled with a zillion snowballs, sledding seems to include their father. Unfortunately, the snow doesn't appear, leaving the family members rushing through their morning routines so as not to be late for school. Then comes the surprise: the narrator is the father, who happens to be a teacher. The illustrations, in muted oils, show the jubilant family anticipating the snow and the activities that they would undertake. The figures fill the pages giving a sense of intimacy, and the scenes are viewed from a variety of perspectives, adding to the excitement and chaos. Children (and parents) will identify with the strong wish for a day away from the routine, as well as the mad rush when things don't pan out.--Enos, Randall Copyright 2007 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 3-As a father cooks, a brother and sister watch TV, gleefully celebrating when the weatherman predicts an overnight snow. The unidentified first-person narrator contemplates the possibility of a snow day, describing plans to cuddle on the sofa, go sledding, build a snow fort, and read. However, the expected snowfall does not occur, and as the family members hurry to get ready for school, readers discover that the narrator is actually the father, who is a teacher. Unfortunately, the surprise ending, which is reminiscent of Julie Danneberg's First Day Jitters (Charlesbridge, 2000), does not carry the book. Because the snow play is predicted rather than experienced, the story offers few of the sensory descriptions of wonder found in many titles on this topic. Gustavson's sumptuous oil paintings bring life to the spare text. The mostly two-page illustrations are rich in color, texture, perspective, and kinesthetic energy. Stick with titles such as Ezra Jack Keats's The Snowy Day (Viking, 1962), Uri Shulevitz's Snow (Farrar, 1998), Will Hubbell's Snow Day Dance (Albert Whitman, 2005), and Lynn Rae Perkins's Snow Music (Greenwillow, 2003) to celebrate the season.-Laura Scott, Farmington Community Library, MI (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 Kirkus Book Review
A young boy anticipates the arrival of a snowstorm bearing gifts: days without school. "Wonderful, amazing, we-can't-go snow." Laminack generates the increasingly hopeful energy to a fever pitch: "No alarm clock ringing. No one saying, 'Time to get up.' No one shouting, 'Hurry or you'll be late!' No school!" He'll snuggle with his family under a blanket and drink hot chocolate and watch TV. And they'll hit the slopes and sled. And they'll build a snow fort with a zillion snowballs and a snowman. Maybe read a book, too. Gustavson creates a festive mood with his oil illustrations, so luxurious and ample they feel like bundles of winter clothing, topped with bright scarves. Then it's off to bed with the same relish that attends Christmas Eve. Except, Christmas is never a no-show, like the great blows the hyperventilating weather forecasters predict. No time to deflate, though--got to get ready for school. Here Laminack throws in his sweet twist: It isn't the young boy narrating but the father. "I can't be late! I'm the teacher!" Should have known. What kid ever heard an alarm clock? (Picture book. 4-8) Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
