Review by New York Times Review
LITTLE girls' attraction to all things pink seems encoded in their DNA, as inevitable to their development as, say, learning to sit up or typing with their thumbs. Few parents realize it has not always been thus. A century or so ago, when colors first entered the nursery, pink - which was considered a pastel version of red - was seen as a masculine hue, while blue, with its intimation of the Virgin Mary was designated feminine. As late as the 1930s, 25 percent of customers in a survey conducted by Lord & Taylor still held to this pink-blue divide. It is doubtful that anyone would get it "wrong" today. But a funny thing happened on the way to the 21st century. The tenor and meaning of pink began to shift. Rather than girlish innocence, it now signifies the ascent of the preschool diva: from the Disney Princess Mega Cosmetic Box to the spa-based birthday party for kindergartners, a generation of Fancy Nancys has made Eloise look as homespun as Laura Ingalls Wilder. Three new picture books - "Silverlicious" by Victoria Kann, the follow-up to "Pinkalicious," "Purplicious" and "Goldilicious," and already a best seller; and two others, "Tallulah's Tutu," by Marilyn Singer, and "The Best Birthday Party Ever," by Jennifer LaRue Huget - bring home the current power of consumer pink. It appears that even those feeding the frenzy are a tad concerned by what they've wrought. Witness "Silverlicious," featuring Pinkalicious Pinkerton, who presides in Pinkville in an all-pink room with an alarm clock that rings "piiiiink . . . piiiiiink . . . piiiiiiiink." In this volume, the heroine loses a tooth and - woe unto her! - it happens to be her sweet tooth. Poor Pinkalicious! She can no longer taste sweetness! As it turns out, she can no longer feel it either: Pinkalicious (which would make an excellent stripper name) has become a raging tyrant, stamping her feet at the ineffectual attempts to cure her by Cupid, the Easter Bunny and one of Santa's elves. Eventually, she learns that "when you are sweet, the world and all the delicious things in it will be sweet too!" And Kann, by simultaneously promoting and cautioning against the diva fantasy, has made way for another sequel. Adult analysis aside, "Silverlicious" is amusing and, quite possibly, addictive: my own 7-year-old snapped up my copy and had, at last count, read it 47,000 times. Not so "Tallulah's Tutu" and "The Best Birthday Party Ever," which share a similar dynamic. In "Tallulah's Tutu," the title character is obsessed with "earning" her tutu in ballet class. That in itself may be confusing to a young reader, since Tallulah's parents could simply buy her one. Of course, by the end of the book, Tallulah learns that you have to work for your goals (though, P.S., you still get what you want). With expansive watercolor flourishes, Tallulah is ultimately rewarded with a tutu of vibrant red, the bold hue indicating her renunciation of pastel materialism. In "The Best Birthday Party Ever," when a girl rejects pink, we are meant to understand, she has learned a lesson. Here, a 5-year-old Birthday-Girl-to-Be gets carried away planning her next party, envisioning 9,000 pink balloons and a "real castle." LeUyen Pham's ebullient illustrations pile on the girl's imaginings: pony rides, a jam-packed parade and an air show. But never fear: when the big day arrives she is contented by a more modest reality. Friends, family and heartfelt gifts suffice, and on the last page she begins to plan next year's fete: this time the theme will be blue. All of these books simultaneously embrace and reject all things pink, firmly placing girls in the narrow box from which they purport to liberate them, while offering parents - increasingly uneasy with toddlers in tiaras - the reassurance of wholesome moralism. Will that mixed message be enough to keep little Cinderellas from morphing into materialistic wicked stepsisters? That's hard to say. At the end of the day, my daughter certainly understood that Pinkalicious was acting spoiled. Yet the next morning, I couldn't resist waking her up by beeping "piiiiink . . . piiiiiink . . . piiiiiiiink." Peggy Orenstein is the author of "Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches From the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [March 13, 2011]
Review by Booklist Review
Little Tallulah longs for a tutu that will make her a great ballerina. At her first ballet classes, she begins to learn basic positions and movements, but thoughts of tutus distract her. When her teacher explains that a tutu must be earned with time and practice, Tallulah melts down into a tantrum and decides against ballet. Overcome by her love of dance, though, she returns to class with a different perspective and eventually achieves her goal. Singer understands the girl's unrealistic view of dance and expresses it with considerable sympathy. Even children who don't share Tallulah's ballet dreams may long for such an idyllic world, in which a child's mother, her teacher, and even the strangers she dances past in the grocery store are warmly supportive at all times. Boiger's expressive paintings emphasize Tallulah's enthusiasm, grace, and large-eyed innocence. A nice addition to the recently growing collection of ballet-themed picture books.--Phelan, Carolyn Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Tallulah starts her lessons at the barre with visions of a much-coveted tutu dancing in her head. But when class after class goes by and all her teacher has to offer is, "Good job," Tallulah finally loses it. "That's not fair!" she cries, stamping her feet. "A ballerina needs a tutu, and she needs it now!" Gradually, Tallulah learns two important lessons: ballet is in her blood ("She always did a plie when she patted the neighbor's dog"), and not everything in life is about instant gratification. Singer (Mirror, Mirror) and Boiger (The Monster Princess) offer a story that is ostensibly as light on its feet as a sugar plum fairy. But without preaching, they score some important points about the value of patience, persistence, and the pursuit of perfection. And while Boiger's watercolors feel a bit too sunny and rose-hued at first-Tallulah and her classmates are standard-issue cute, with big, eager eyes-she captures the budding poise and grace of a young ballerina as well as the transformative power of discovering a true calling. Ages 4-8. (Mar.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
PreS-Gr 2-Tallulah loves to dance and desperately wants a tutu, so when she begins her ballet class, she is disappointed to find that she must wear a leotard. Each time, she waits full of expectation and confidence, hoping this will be the session when she receives her tutu. Her teacher explains that she must be patient and work hard to earn it. After a temper tantrum, Tallulah decides she no longer wants to work so hard and gives up ballet. Then one day, she hears familiar music in the supermarket and cannot stop herself from dancing. Tallulah decides she wants to dance whether or not she has a tutu. This endearing story teaches children the value of earning something and that the joy of the journey can be just as sweet as the reward. The book is full of rich vocabulary as young readers learn about plies, releves, and tendus. The muted, rosy illustrations create a soft mood and complement the tone of the story beautifully. Fans of Jane O'Connor's "Fancy Nancy" series (HarperCollins) will love Tallulah's tenacity and vivaciousness.-Kris Hickey, Columbus Metropolitan Library, OH (c) Copyright 2011. 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
Tallulah's desire for a tutu leads to ballet lessons. She diligently practices--still no tutu. Tallulah quits in a huff, but her love of dance remains; she keeps working and eventually gains her prize. The story's light tone, along with colorful illustrations filled with movement, will reward ballet fans (though they shouldn't follow Tallulah's example for first position--she should bring her heels together). (c) Copyright 2011. 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
Young Tallulah knows she can be "a great ballerinaif only she had a tutu." She works hard in ballet class, which her mother tells her is also necessary, but her teacher rewards her with hugsnot a tutu. Tallulah decides that the tutu must be coming from Paris but is stuck in traffic in New Jersey. Several classes later the tutu still has not arrived, so Tallulah throws a tutu temper tantrum and quits. She does keep dancing in the street, in the park and in the supermarket. There, an encounter with a tutu-clad young girl who cannot dance turns the tables and Tallulah sees the light. She will take class and, in time, earn her tutu. The setting is an upscale New York City neighborhood artfully depicted in the watercolor illustrations. Tallulah's little brother, who loves to dance, and an adorable dog provide some comic relief. The glittery pink cover and endpaper spreads of the five ballet positions are appealing, and Singer weaves the language of ballet throughout her story. Unfortunately, the behavioral issues are too easily resolved, leaving readers to believe that earning a tutu really doesn't take all that much more application than Tallulah has already shown. An additional purchase.(Picture book. 3-6)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
