Review by New York Times Review
"RAIN, rain, go away." Kids have always chanted the familiar refrain gazing out the window wistfully, chin on fist - as if they had the power to make it happen. But these days, what's a little precipitation when there are peevish birds to be flung and other indoor, on-screen distractions? In an era in which the directive "Go play" no longer implies "outside," the idea that rain may affect a child's fun is perhaps a quaint one. But four new picture books remind us that no matter how cosseted we are by technology, a downpour still holds the power to move us. Two very different attitudes about the weather go head-to-head in Linda Ashman's buoyant "Rain!" All furrowed brow and put-upon frown, an older, balding man grumps "Rain!" at the drops he sees outside his window. Meanwhile, in another apartment building, a little boy throws his arms up and delights at the "rain!" plinking on the fire escape. As the two go about their respective days - the boy with his green froggy hat and cheery disposition, the man with his pessimistic attitude - their moods are reflected in their environments and in the faces of the people they encounter. Christian Robinson, whose illustrations for "Harlem's Little Blackbird," by Renée Watson, made for a winsome debut last year, uses paint and collage to render the man's home in muddy colors; the boy's room, by contrast, has buttery yellow walls and circus polka dots. Everyone the man meets is soured by the experience, as shown by a downturned mouth here, an aggrieved expression there. The boy, on the other hand, spreads metaphorical sunshine, prompting enthusiastic waves and indulgent smiles. When the two inevitably cross paths, it's no surprise the boy's positive outlook wins over the grouch - eventually - but their interaction still feels fresh and natural. By the time the man returns to his apartment building, the sun is out; but the implication is that, having embraced the boy's viewpoint, he'd be happy either way. Unlike Ashman's story, in which rain drives the plot, "Water in the Park" showcases a sweltering summer day, and the storm arrives only in the final few pages. But water is everywhere: from the pond in which a small fleet of dogs goes splashing, to the hoses volunteers use to nourish thirsty flower beds, to the pails that industrious children fill from sprinklers and pour onto slides. In an author's note, Emily Jenkins says she was inspired by the various ways she saw people and animals use water during one punishing Brooklyn summer. Her story's characters are as diverse as their real-life counterparts in Prospect Park: multiracial families headed by straight or gay parents; nannies and their charges; an elderly couple who've not only grown to look like each other but who also resemble their stoop-shouldered, geriatric dog. Stephanie Graegin's pencil-and-ink washes depict more than a hundred individuals (go on, ask your child to count them), and several recur throughout the book, just as you might run into a neighborhood friend. Jenkins taps out the day's rhythm in clear, unadorned prose, as early-walking dogs give way to midmorning babies, who then make room for adults on lunch break and the after-school crowd, and onward until the skies open up at dusk. WHILE the average evening storm is rarely more than a nuisance for most city dwellers, farmers, typically, are far more vulnerable to capricious nature. It's this exposure that drives the story in the wordless "Thunderstorm." The illustrator Arthur Geisert grew up in Los Angeles, lived for many years in Galena, Ill., and now makes his home in rural Iowa. He may be best known for his anthropomorphized pigs, seen most recently in "Ice" and "The Giant Seed," but his new work is more in the spirit of 2010's earthy "Country Road ABC," in which "E" stood for Erosion and "I" for Inoculate. "Thunderstorm," too, is grounded in the real world, down to the time stamps that mark a squall's progress across Midwestern farmland over the course of one Saturday afternoon. The artist's trademark copperplate etchings, tinged with watercolors, lend a timeless feel to his slice-of-life illustrations, which show how a farm family and various animals weather the storm. Though the story line isn't always easy to track - Whose fence is being torn up? And where did that tornado come from? - each page's abundant details invite lingering and repeated visits. Cutaways reveal where foxes have burrowed for shelter, and offer a glimpse into the farmhouse kitchen, where the family warily eyes the leaking ceiling. Geisert allows the storm to do real damage, but he also shows the community getting to work once the skies clear, determined to set things right. "Boom!" tells a more finite story, and one many children will relate to. Pertnosed Rosie is a brave little dog. She gamely faces down tigers (well, a stuffed toy one) and house cats, and fears neither sudsy baths nor roaring vacuum cleaners. But the first crack of thunder sends her whimpering for comfort from, as Mary Lyn Ray affectionately describes him, "the boy she knew best." Though plenty of pups cower under the sofa when a storm rages, Rosie seems to be as much reader (or one-being-read-to) surrogate as pet. While the unnamed boy tries to explain away the noise with fanciful stories - "Thunder was watermelons rolling from a watermelon truck" or "a block fort falling" - the way a parent might, Rosie knows what's really happening. "It was the big, big sky growling big, big growls," she determines, and though she tries, she can't find a place where she feels truly safe. Eventually the boy scoops her up in his arms and they wait it out together; she imagines "the boy may have felt a little frightened, too," though the serene look that Steven Salerno has drawn on his face belies that notion. At story's end, the sun shines once more, Rosie yaps happily and the storm is but a memory, except for a few wooden blocks (perhaps from that aforementioned fort) strewn across the floor. In other words, this too shall pass. Carolyn Juris is associate children's book editor at Publishers Weekly.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [June 2, 2013]
Review by Booklist Review
*Starred Review* It's a hot day at the city park, a pleasant green oasis of open space, play equipment, and water. The jacket illustration offers a bird's-eye view of the pond, hill, playground, and flower beds, areas that will be seen again and again from different angles. Around six o'clock in the morning, several dogs and their people head for the pond. By seven, two babies and their grown-ups have arrived at the playground. Hour by hour throughout the day, visitors come and go. In the crowded playground at ten o'clock, a sprinkler in a shallow pool amuses toddlers, while older kids line up at the drinking fountain for water to fill their water balloons, to wet the sand for sand castles, and to cool the slide. While the quiet text creates a satisfying, structured narrative full of details that will intrigue young children, they will also be engaged by the inviting pictures. Using digitally assembled pencil drawings and ink washes, Graegin creates illustrations with a traditional look and plenty of human interest. The park within the book becomes a destination that a child can visit and revisit, noticing new details each time and connecting familiar ones in new ways. A wonderfully fresh look at a timeless topic.--Phelan, Carolyn Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by School Library Journal Review
PreS-Gr 2-A catalog of ordinary events that occur in a park between sunrise and sunset, these scenarios involve dogs, babies, ice-cream trucks, gardeners, and, yes, water. It runs out of a fountain for two tots on a playdate, swirls around the ankles of wading dogs, and falls from the sky in gray sheets. Graegin's warm, natural palette brings out delightful details in the mundane and attempts to elevate the plodding text to something more than a list. But when the sun finally sets on the park, readers' thirst for a story might be left decidedly unquenched.-Jenna Boles, Washington-Centerville Public Library, OH (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
On a warm day, just before six a.m., a city park starts to stir: turtles laze on rocks by the pond, and dogs arrive, owners in tow, for an early-morning swim. Next, a few kids and their caretakers show up; at eight, the sprinklers are turned on, and by mid-morning the playground is mobbed. And so the day goes: small children come and go per naptime schedule, grownups take their lunch breaks on park benches, and the ice-cream truck arrives, along with another surge of delighted kids. By five o'clock, people start to trickle home. Six o'clock sees the sprinklers turned off, and by seven, the dogs have returned for an evening swim -- until a much-welcomed rainstorm at eight causes the heat to break and sends everyone inside for the night. Jenkins's introductory author's note (on the copyright page) sets her story in Brooklyn's Prospect Park, where she was inspired, because of "many ninety-eight-degree days," to think about the various ways the park's water was used. It's a very narrow jumping-off point, but one that nearly every city kid will appreciate. (The author's note also acknowledges Jenkins's debt of gratitude to Charlotte Zolotow and H. A. Rey's The Park Book and Alvin Tresselt and Roger Duvoisin's White Snow, Bright Snow.) Graegin's pencil-and-ink-wash illustrations (digitally colored and assembled) beautifully reflect the changing light, the shifting population, and the various activities throughout the day; some of the pictures play up the quiet expanse of nature, while others are jam-packed with people enjoying the outdoors. The constant, in both text and illustrations, is water -- pond, drinking, sprinkler, puddle -- and a subtle message about urban community. elissa gershowitz (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
From sunrise to sunset on a scorching summer day, people (and animals) use the water found in a park in many different ways. "Tup tup. Tup tup." A cat drinks from a puddle. Dogs splash in the pond to stay cool. Children clean their sticky fingers or build a sand castle complete with moat. Jenkins begins this close inspection of a city's greenery at 6 a.m., when the turtles are just sliding off the rocks and the park is waking up. Every hour is told in small moments, some simple ("Around four o'clock, Benjamin F. skins his knee. / His sitter washes it clean with water from the fountain") and some amusingly poetic ("Ribbons of water seep out of the rose beds and under benches.... / Pigeons strut at the edges of the new puddles, / cooling their pigeon ankles"). But perhaps the most fun is searching Graegin's incredibly detailed illustrations. By 10 a.m., the playground is filled to the brim with kids and adults, some of whom will be introduced later in the story and others for whom readers can create their own narrative. It is a seek and find, with curiosity as a guide. Water may flow in abundance through these pages, but this title is an outpouring of observation that repays careful readers richly. (Picture book. 3-6)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
