Review by New York Times Review
EUROPEAN children's books have a lot in common with the TV shows we Americans import from the British: either rarefied and arty ("Downton Abbey") or full of poop jokes and low humor (um, "Benny Hill"). These three picture books from abroad offer a little bit of both the high and low ends of the artistic spectrum. "Valentine and His Violin" hails from the Netherlands, as does its creator, Philip Hopman, an award-winning illustrator of more than 150 books. Here he offers the tale of Valentine, a cherubic young lad. Violin in hand, Valentine plays highfalutin melodies like "Ode to Joy" and the "Marche Militaire." Unfortunately, Valentine is a bad violinist - teeth-clenching, cats-hissing, plates-breaking, nails-on-a-chalkboard bad. So bad that the towns-people send him packing, much to his naive surprise: "It went pretty well, didn't it?" But it soon becomes clear that Valentine's wretched playing constitutes a backward kind of strength. The sheer awfulness causes a stuck horse to pull itself out of a ditch, a dragon to flee battle with a knight and an attacking army to turn tail and run. And let's not forget that most poignant of images, when Valentine serenades a constipated wolf with excerpts from "Water Music." The wolf finds relief - and it isn't pretty. The story ends with yet another performance: Valentine playing to an assembly of grateful citizens, all of whom have cotton stuck in their ears so as not to hear a single horrible note. The art - yes, even the spread of the defecating wolf - is absolutely gorgeous. Hopman's graceful watercolor illustrations have a sophisticated pastel palette and dynamic compositions. Each page is filled with detail: the diversity of animals running from the boy's excruciating music, the lush landscapes with cleverly hidden extras (the Statue of Liberty, a Venetian gondola), the delicate scribbles of forest foliage. Hopman does wonders with the most sketchy of lines; two dots and a squiggle, and voilà: a face in exquisite auditory agony. The text, on the other hand, does not achieve art's grace and ease. It's impossible for this non-Dutchman to tell whether the fault lies in the translation or in the original. For instance, the entire book is written in present tense, a choice that may be de rigueur in Dutch but in English causes each sentence to feel clunky. Furthermore, the story's resolution, expressed visually but not in words, feels a little too subtle - if one is not looking closely enough, the cotton-in-the-ears gag fades into the beautiful scenery. Scenery is not the thing in "Nick and the Nasty Knight," by Ute Krause, a veritable giant of German children's literature, with more than 250 books under her belt. Her hero is Nick, a peasant boy who is forced to toil for Sir Nestor the Nasty, who is a man everything his name promises: cruel, vain, lazy and so ugly that babies cry when they see him. There's nothing highfalutin here. The art is comic-strip style, with thin black lines, cartoonish faces and exaggerated bodies. The tone meshes well with the drawings; fun visual jokes abound, both of the subtle and not-so-subtle variety. Nestor's castle is decorated with portraits of himself through the ages and from all angles (front view, profile, back of head), each helpfully labeled: "ME." Flags flying from his castle turrets proclaim: "MINE." Cadres of lackeys are employed simply to carry Nestor around, which naturally includes hauling him onto his golden toilet. A handful of extra servants are there to hold his noble toilet tissue, air freshener and tabloid magazine. Unsurprisingly, Nick decides it's time to make an escape. He grabs Nestor's magic coin and sneaks away. Then there's an abduction by a gang of thieves, a return to the castle to steal more treasure, a moat of hungry alligators, a pooping bird, yet another escape and, to make a long story short, which is what I have to do because this story is way too long, a magical resolution. Most of the pages are filled with lengthy paragraphs of text, which are relieved only by the occasional attempt at interesting type treatments. I am hopeful the typography in the German was more elegant, but can't imagine the original text would have been any more concise. "The Day Louis Got Eaten," by the British cartoonist, author and illustrator John Fardell, is, by contrast, admirably concise. I fear that it is a bit unfair to discuss this book alongside the other two since the text here remains in its original English: perfectly terse and colorfully constructed. The story is delicious: A brother and his big sister are out in the woods, and the former gets eaten. Eaten in one gulp by a creature logically called a "Gulper," which is eaten, in turn, by the aptly named and hilariously drawn Grabular, Undersnatch, Spiney-Backed Guzzler and finally by a Saber-Toothed Yumper. Sarah sets out to rescue little Louis from this parade of beasts, a feat accomplished through a bicycle ride over increasingly complicated and varied terrain, an incredibly illustrated trek through the stomachs of each animal and with the help of a small frog. Sarah finds Louis calmly ensconced in the Gulper's gullet, reading a comic book: "I knew you'd come." Their escape involves a wonderful visual series of hiccups and burps. The art is cartoony, in pen and ink with bright watercolors, and the book's layout borrows from comic strips as well; the narrative is cleverly visualized in a succession of softly edged panels teeming with delightful action words, like "RAAR," "FLICK," "SPLOSH" and "GUZZLE." There's a lot to look at, and everything is important. Note that secret glimpse of each successive creature peeking into the previous page before it pounces. And Sarah's retooling, MacGyver style, of her bicycle to adapt to each environment: paddle boat, submarine, stilted walker. The final pages, despite the book's predatory subject, are surprisingly sweet; the siblings fly their bike (now a hang glider) toward a cozy cabin while the vanquished critters sulk from a safe distance. Whoever said the British can't cook? I love this book so much I want to eat it up. Lisa Brown is an illustrator, author and cartoonist. Her latest picture book is "Vampire Boy's Good Night."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [November 11, 2012]
Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 2-Nick is a poor servant in the castle of mean Sir Nestor the Nasty. He is there, even though he is young, because his mother owes the greedy man money. Exhausted and desperate, he plans an escape and ends up in Sir Nestor's treasure room. It's there that he finds a mysterious, magical coin that will serve him well during his adventure. He does escape, only to encounter a gang of robbers and crocodiles before the villains get their just deserts. The illustrations are done in a cartoon style and add silliness and character to this medieval adventure. The crocodiles are hilarious, and prove to be the real center of the story. This would be a useful addition if your library has requests for knights to go along with all those princesses.-Susan E. Murray, formerly at Glendale Public Library, AZ (c) Copyright 2013. 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
Nick works as a servant for Nestor the Nasty Knight, until he comes across Sir Nestor's treasure chamber. He escapes with a special gold coin, only to run into more trouble with robbers. The misadventure all works out in an unexpected way. There's humor aplenty in the finely detailed illustrations, but haphazard storytelling mars this German import. (c) Copyright 2013. 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 Nick outfoxes a greedy knight as well as a company of thieves to rescue his oppressed medieval village. The setting here is an age-worn town, sometime in the Middle Ages, with a Central European feel, venerable but struggling under the boot of a bloated, cruel tyrant. Nick has been forced into servitude at Sir Nestor the Nasty's castle because his mother is in debt to the knight. Nestor has more than he will ever have need, but that's the point: Greed breeds greed. All day long, it's chop wood, fetch water, do the dishes, and then do it again. Nick connives to make his escape and stumbles into the knight's treasury in the process. He grabs one glowing coin and swings to freedom, only to land in the hands of a band of robbers who are only too happy to have someone to chop their wood, fetch water, and do the dishes. But Nick plays on their greed and soon enough has them swimming in the moat with Nestor's alligators, right along with Nestor, as he puts the golden coin to good work. On one level, the story is simple fun, as are the illustrations, but scratch it just a little and it has much to say about the universality of greed and how wealth finds meaning when it is put to use for the common good. A nicely etched story of doing the right thing in a trying world. (Picture book. 4-8)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
