Little Elliot, big city

Mike Curato

Book - 2014

Elliot the little elephant has a hard time with a lot of things in the city he loves until he meets Mouse, who is even smaller--and hungrier.

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Subjects
Genres
Picture books
Published
New York : Henry Holt and Company 2014.
Language
English
Main Author
Mike Curato (author)
Edition
First edition
Physical Description
1 volume (unpaged) : color illustrations ; 29 cm
ISBN
9780805098259
Contents unavailable.
Review by New York Times Review

WE'VE ALL BEEN there at some point. Feeling a little out of place, unnoticed. If we were lucky, perhaps we met someone who, though very different, complemented us. Maybe we met a Jim and, like Huck Finn, left our familiar though confining small town; maybe we were Maude seeking companionship in a boy named Harold; maybe we were Joe Buck, the midnight cowboy in a city that never sleeps, who befriended the lowliest of the low, Ratso Rizzo. Four new picture books tell stories about friends who vanquish loneliness. In the warmly illustrated "Little Elliot, Big City," a lap-dog-size elephant named Elliot finds difficulty negotiating a metropolis - in his case, a glamorous 1940s New York City. He has trouble turning door handles, which he can barely touch with his trunk, and reaching into his freezer for food, which he pushes out with a broomstick. He can't catch a cab; one splashes him as it drives through a puddle. What Elliot really wants is a cupcake - but the attendant at the bakery doesn't notice him. In fact, no one notices this tiny elephant, despite the fact that he is white with blue and pink polka dots (he's a precursor, in a way, to Joe Buck, whose cowboy hat and shirt barely catch the attention of New Yorkers). The author-illustrator Mike Curato, making his picture book debut, beautifully renders the images in rich earth tones that are soft and smooth, calling to mind "The Sweetest Fig," by Chris Van Allsburg (whose newest book I'll get to in a bit), which was set in Paris, also in a bygone era. In a two-page spread, hordes of men and women wearing hats and overcoats wait on a subway platform, everyone in shadows, with a pale Elliot on the bottom, protecting himself, "careful not to be stepped on." Perhaps the most bittersweet moment in the book is an illustration of Elliot, defeated, walking against pedestrian traffic on a sidewalk. A smiling little blond girl turns to him, but he is not aware. Returning from the bakery emptyhanded, "Elliot was so sad that he barely noticed a thing," Curato writes; yet the elephant nevertheless catches sight of something smaller than he is trying to climb up a garbage can - a white mouse, desperately searching for food. With his trunk, Elliot lifts him to the top of the garbage can, where his new friend nibbles on a slice of pizza. Soon the two are back at the bakery, with the mouse, riding on Elliot's trunk, reaching to give the attendant a dollar bill. Elliot finally gets his cupcake, "and something even better." The final pages show a darkened building with the Manhattan Bridge in the background and, in one of the two yellow-lit windows, Elliot and the mouse sitting at the kitchen table sharing the cupcake. Two other unlikely friends come together in "Hug Me," by the Italian author Simona Ciraolo. She uses whimsical, jagged colored-pencil drawings to portray Felipe, a young cactus who just wants someone to wrap his arms around But, coming from "an old and famous" family of cacti, he knows they're the last people he can expect affection from. Ciraolo uses ample white space to set in relief the prickliness of the cactus family, and to signal the impending tragedy when Felipe meets someone he hopes will be his first friend - someone who "was bold, confident, ... and he was trouble." In short: a big yellow balloon. You can imagine what happens. Ciraolo is playful in a very Italian way as she shows how Felipe's mishap disgraces his relatives. Even the newspaper headline - written in red - declares his shame: "CACTUS ATTACK." Felipe moves away from his family, trying unsuccessfully to befriend squirrels and dogs and building his own house, fenced in from the world. When he hears weeping in the distance, Felipe knows what he needs to do: "Someone else was feeling lonely too." He searches out the crying voice and comes upon a rock named Camilla. Who says a rock feels no pain? And here Felipe envelops the rock with his prickly arms. (Your child, as did mine, will immediately understand that the rock is the only thing that can't be hurt by the spines.) Some friends simply want to help others who they feel have been left out. In "A Good Home for Max," Tabi, a mouse who wears a blue cap, takes care of a little store after hours. Every day a toy goes home with an owner - all except Max, a sweet dog with a sour face. Trying to make the frowning Max appealing to some child, Tabi dresses him up in festive attire - an inner tube in summer, a party hat in winter. Nothing works, and "Max is always by his side." Finally Tabi dresses Max in a hat just like his own, though red. One evening, Max is gone. Tabi sneaks into a delivery truck that takes him through the little village, hoping to find him. When he returns to the shop, crestfallen, he looks out to see Max sitting in the window of the house across the street, smiling. Every night to come, we're told, "when Tabi is done straightening the shop, he visits Max across the street." Some young readers may not understand the message at first, and will wonder why Tabi is going through all this trouble to get rid of his best friend, but parents will register the emotional push-pull of Tabi's conflict. Junzo Terada, a Japanese artist known for his postcards and mobiles, uses rich patterns of cheerful colors for his wood-block-style illustrations, and his sophisticated artwork, as well, maybe appreciated even more by parents than children. As the two-time Caldecott Medal winner Chris Van Allsburg's newest book suggests, some lonely creatures just need to strike out on their own. In "The Misadventures of Sweetie Pie," the title character is a squirmy hamster, who is pawned off from one unsuitable child to another. Each time his cage passes into the hands of another owner, he catches a glimpse of fresh air, and of freedom. While Van Allsburg's pen-and-ink drawings don't have the shadowing and dusky tones of some of his previous books, the story is itself a dark one. Using bright, pastel colors, he utilizes his familiar close croppings and dramatic angles to depict, say, a dog's mouth latching on to the cage, or a girl with a downright evil look on her face who puts Sweetie Pie in a dress, then into a hamster ball, and then - devastating - forgets about him outside. Yet it's not the only time a child abandons him. In the final instance, a boy puts the cage down to play a game of catch, but leaves him there overnight in falling snow. When the boy uncovers the cage the next day, Sweetie Pie is gone. In a final spread, we see the boy in springtime, still upset, looking around for the lost hamster; but up above Sweetie Pie frolics in a tree hollow with squirrels who have befriended him. The last image is somewhat primordial, with Sweetie Pie standing at the tree hole looking down, almost as if from a "Planet of the Apes" movie. Up until the ending, it's all pretty disturbing; after all, conventional wisdom says, what fluffy animal doesn't need a child to care for it? But then, sometimes misfits - and the neglected - rebel, escape and create their own, better, world. MARK ROTELLA, senior editor at Publishers Weekly, is the author of "Stolen Figs: And Other Adventures in Calabria" and "Amore: The Story of Italian American Song."

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [November 2, 2014]
Review by Booklist Review

*Starred Review* Little Elliot was an elephant, this book begins, and so he is, though he is not gray; he is polka-dotted one of the things that make him different. The other is his height, which is to say, he is short. Very short. His stature makes life difficult for Elliot, who lives in Manhattan and struggles to keep up with crowds or hail a cab. The hardest task is trying to buy a much-desired cupcake; he is too small to reach the counter. It's at his lowest that Elliot meets someone smaller than himself and with a bigger problem. Mouse is too tiny to reach any food at all. What one cannot do alone, however, two together might accomplish. Elliot is able to provide food for Mouse, and when Mouse stands on Elliot's head, he can pay for cupcakes. Now Elliot doesn't just have a cupcake, he has a friend. Curato, a debut author and illustrator, tucks several gentle messages into one simple story that's perfect for the age group. It is, however, his almost cinematic artwork that's the real showstopper. Digitally enhanced pencil drawings present Elliot in a New York of an earlier era, when men wore hats to work, and brownstones looked down on spotless streets. Scenes, such as the bustling interior of a subway station, add drama, while throughout, Elliot himself adds plenty of whimsy. Happily, expect to see more of him.--Cooper, Ilene Copyright 2014 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

First in a series, Curato's debut introduces a tiny polka-dotted elephant who lives in a Hopperesque 1940s Manhattan. Elliot is so small that he cowers on the subway platform so as not to be stepped on, and while he's literally the elephant in the room (or on the sidewalk), his fellow seen-it-all New Yorkers give him nary a notice wherever he goes. Despite the annoyances and hazards of the city, Elliot soldiers on like so many others in the Big Apple, savoring "small treasures." His life opens up unexpectedly and dramatically when he meets a white mouse, "someone even littler than himself." Together, they make a great team, especially when it comes to facilitating the purchase of Elliot's favorite treasure, cupcakes. Curato's writing is a tad literal and makes Elliot seem a bit more pathetic than his images convey. But he's a terrific emerging talent, with gorgeously rendered images that bring to mind the moodiness of Chris Van Allsburg and the sweetness of William Joyce. Ages 4-8. Agent: Brenda Bowen, Sanford J. Greenburger Associates. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review

Toddler-PreS-This story about a quiet elephant in a busy city transitions to a board book format flawlessly. The gentle pencil drawings and muted palette make this an appealing choice for one-on-one reading. Older toddlers will enjoy having this story in a format they can browse independently. © Copyright 2017. 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

Little Elliot, with his upswept trunk and his angel-wing ears, is a cuddly-looking elephant with pastel polka dots all over his body, all the more amusingly incongruous in that he lives in a 1930s-esque version of New York City filled with big, busy people wearing hats. For the diminutive elephant, it is a challenge being so small: "He had trouble opening doors. And he could never catch a cab." Worse, Elliot loves cupcakes, but the shopkeeper at the bakery never notices him at the counter. After doing a favor for an even-smaller mouse, Elliot (with the mouse's help) is able to get his treat. The text is simple, and children will relate to Elliot's experiences, such as reaching for the too-high doorknob; they may also find his solution to dishwashing (sitting in the sink with the dishes) an appealing one. Curato uses pencil and Photoshop for a soft, muted effect that reflects the old-fashioned setting, with lots of brown, gray, gray-green, and the occasional pop of red. Intriguing details to notice include the treasures Elliot collects and the sign advertising pie la mode for ten cents. The "Little Elliot" logo on the cover hints at additional stories to come. susan dove lempke (c) Copyright 2014. 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

The big city is clearly New York, but it's a grayed and sepia city sometime in the late 1940s, judging from the cars and clothing.Elliot is a small, polka-dot elephant who loves his city even though it is hard for him to catch a cab or even open a door. (And he does the dishes by sitting in the sink with them.) He's too little to be seen when he tries to buy his favorite treat, a cupcake, and that makes him sad. But he sees a tiny, very hungry mouse trying desperately to scale a trash bin for scraps. He manages to help get Mouse something to eat, and lo! He feels "like the tallest elephant in the world!" With Mouse's help, the next day he gets that cupcake. The last image peers through Elliot's window to find him and Mouse sharing it. The Flatiron Building, brownstone steps and the Empire State Building are clearly recognizable, giving the story Big Apple authenticity. The art has its own meticulous beauty, but the story is more saccharine than sweetrather like too much frosting on a cupcake. The endpapers are a lush repetitive pattern of variegated cupcakes, with cameos by Elliot and Mouse.This feels far more like a parable for adults than a picture book for children, who may also miss the elegance of the New York City images in their dark, soft palette. (Picture book. 4-7) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.