Review by New York Times Review
IN MY CHILDHOOD HOME, the basement was terrifying. Sure, this was in part because a previous resident had killed herself there. But in larger part it was scary because my father enjoyed sending me downstairs to get firewood, and then yelling, "Careful of the ghost!" and slamming the door shut. And then cackling. He had a strange sense of humor. When I had a child of my own, and she cried with separation anxiety, he cooed to her, "Mommy has gone to France, and she isn't coming back." You may say, "This is not good parenting, Marjorie!" And yes, members of my family have turned out kind of offbeat. But I'd argue that joking about fears and exposing them to light are great ways to diminish their power. Four new picture books prove this point, just in time for the monster- and inevitable Kim Davis-costumed Halloween season. Let's start with the complex and quirky "Leo: A Ghost Story." Leo is a little ghost boy who lives alone in an empty old-fashioned house. When a new family moves in, he tries to welcome them with mint tea and honey toast, but they see only a floating tray and freak out. Leo, knowing he's unwanted, moves out and hits the big city, which has become bigger and scarier than when he was alive. Again, no one can see him ... except for a little girl named Jane. She thinks he's an imaginary friend, and he's afraid to tell her he's a ghost. The two play games and become besties, and Leo summons the courage to tell Jane he's not imaginary. Her reaction is even better than Leo could have hoped for. Christian Robinson, the book's illustrator, is one of the most exciting children's book artists working today. (He also did the art for the spectacular "Josephine," a picture-book bio of Josephine Baker.) I love the pal-ette of "Leo" : black, white, gray and various shades of moody blue, in a mix of acrylic paint and chunky construction-paper collage. Leo is a simple white ghostly outline with Brylcreemed-looking hair and a bow tie. The living people are done in varying blue tones. Jane is sapphire-skinned but reads African-American to me, with her braided or twisted hair - drawn as cheerful little dots - in a high side ponytail. The look of the book is mod and sparky enough to delight design-loving parents, while the text, by Mac Barnett ("Sam and Dave Dig a Hole"), is wry, evocative and rich. "After dinner Jane returned to her room and gave Leo a sword. They snuck into a cave, slew a dragon, and stole all his loot. When Leo closed his eyes, he could almost see the gold coins and green scales." The story has a light touch, but there's so much depth: a fearful ghost, a take-charge girl, an interracial friendship, and a tale in which fear is integrally and sweetly tied to positive qualities of imagination. Another snazzy book that will appeal to design-savvy parents is "Max the Brave," by Ed Vere ("The Getaway"). Max is an adorable kitten who resents his adorability. People keep tying floppy bows around his neck. Feh. He decides to prove his toughness by chasing a mouse, but unfortunately, he doesn't know what a mouse looks like. Nor does he know what a monster looks like. A wacky mix-up ensues, and Max decides it's O.K. not to be brave all the time. Max is an expressive huge-eyed black ball of kinetic kittenness who pops against each page's bright, differently colored background. Kids will be tickled that they can distinguish a mouse and a monster while Max doesn't, and - spoiler alert - the monster is more funny than scary. "I Used to Be Afraid," by Laura Vaccaro Seeger ("First the Egg"; the "Dog and Bear" books), encourages kids to use logic and reason as tools for managing their apprehensions. The book has a small, square, comforting trim size, perfect for little hands. Using die-cuts, acrylic paint and collage, Seeger depicts a little girl recounting all the things she used to fear: spiders, shadows, the dark, mistakes, change, being alone. After she names each source of anxiety, a turn of the page shows us how she's coped with it. She admires the formerly scary spider's beautifully complex and textured web (which seems to be made of connected dots and dribbles of white glue). She sees that a shadow can actually be the shape of fingers making a Taylor Swift-like heart gesture. Loneliness can be cured with books. You get the idea. A cutout on each spread adds emphasis to the shift in mood or perception when the page is turned, and the ending gently shows that fear can often be laughed away. "The Fun Book of Scary Stuff" delivers on its title. Our fearful narrator reports: "Dad says I should make a list of everything that frightens me. He says it will help me be brave." So the boy does. His terrors are a mix of "stuff that frightens everybody" (monsters, trolls, ghosts, witches) and "stuff that definitely exists," like his cousin Jemima. Who has put ice cubes down his pants. Twice. (I'd be scared too.) In a goofy, cartoony style, the boy's dogs - a bull terrier and a pug, as the title page confirms - chat with him about his fears, their words all appearing in comic-book-like speech bubbles. Sometimes they share his sentiments; sometimes they're a little dismissive. When the boy sees that his pets are really, really afraid of the dark ("Aroooooo! Aroooooo!" "Save me from the dark of nameless evil!"), he realizes he has the power to soothe them by turning on the light: Being able to help others is what makes our hero accept that he's brave. The text, by Emily Jenkins ("A Fine Dessert," "Lemonade in Winter"), is pleasingly sardonic, and the expressive drawings, by Hyewon Yum ("This Is Our House"), will delight dog-lovers. These books reinforce the notion that laughing at fear doesn't mean dismissing it; it means reframing it. A useful skill, no matter what's lurking in the basement. MARJORIE INGALL is a columnist for Tablet. Her memoir, "Mamaleh Knows Best," will be published next year.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [October 11, 2015]
Review by Booklist Review
A child and two dogs discuss a range of potentially scary things in this pitch-perfect exploration of childhood fears. The child, who could be a girl or a boy, works through a list that includes monsters, ghosts, witches, swimming pools with sharks, and, of course, the dark. They discuss the fears in an analytical tone, such as when the bull terrier asks, What's so bad about ghosts? and the child replies, I hate the way you can see through them. Watercolor illustrations with pencil outlines and details depict the threats as creepy but not aggressive rather, they hover patiently around the edges of the child's room during the discussions. Jenkins' approach is an effective, balanced one the story acknowledges the child's anxiety, while the dogs gently deflect it. Further lightening the mood is the humorous interplay among the three characters, particularly the know-it-all bull terrier and tiny pug, who tries very hard to act tough. In the end, it's the child who helps the dogs be brave. Children will be amused and reassured by this playful combination of scary and fun.--Whitehurst, Lucinda Copyright 2015 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Green-faced witches, forest trolls, and a shark make appearances in this frank assessment of scary things, conducted by a child, a bull terrier, and a pug. "Dad says I should make a list of everything that frightens me. He says it will help me be brave," says the child. "Your dad is weird," the bull terrier replies. As the dogs and child carry on a voice-balloon discussion, monsters materialize along the walls of the child's room; airy white backgrounds keep the spaces reassuringly well-lit. The pug takes a pragmatic view ("What's so bad about ghosts?"), and the bull terrier acts tough ("You keep being scared of stuff that probably doesn't exist"). When it comes to "stuff that definitely exists," like a bullying cousin and bigger dogs, the terrier and pug are supportive; when they all step into a dark closet, even the bull terrier quakes until the child turns on the light. United, the three acknowledge their anxieties and defeat the creepy. With humor and logic in their arsenal, Jenkins (A Fine Dessert) and Yum (The Twins' Little Sister) demystify fear in this encouraging show-and-tell. Ages 3-6. (Aug.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 2-A mop top child makes a list of everything that frightens him and shares it with his two dogs. The usual nebulous suspects such as monsters, ghosts, and witches are included, along with more specific terrors such as a nasty cousin who has a penchant for putting ice cubes down the boy's pants, and a bossy crossing guard. The comical back-and-forth banter between the blustery bull terrier ("When did you see trolls?") and the apprehensive little boy ("Um. Never.") is presented in speech bubbles, with the scrappy pug also chiming in. The terrier pokes holes in all of the itemized fears, until "the dark" is mentioned, prompting the pooch to concede, "Okay. Now that's a little scary." When all the lights go out, the trio band together in support and finds a solution. In Yum's wispy, pencil and watercolor illustrations, emotions are clearly conveyed, from closed-eyed bravado to nail-biting dread. VERDICT A not-so-scary look at talking about and tackling fears together.-Linda Ludke, London Public Library, Ontario, Canada © Copyright 2015. 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
A child shares with his two chatty dogs the list he wrote of things that scare him: monsters, ghosts, witches, trolls. The pug seems sympathetic, but the self-proclaimed bravest dog ever bull terrier is unfazed and unimpressed: You keep being scared of stuff that probably doesnt existIm just saying. So, fine, the child starts listing real-life things: his cousin, the school crossing guard, swimming pools, sharks. Again, no sympathy: Hee hee! Scared of the crossing guard (says the bull terrier, ROFL). When it comes to the dark, though, even a too-cool-for-school canine can turn into a scaredy cat: Okay. Now thats a little scaryActually, REALLY SCARY. The bull terriers fear pushes the boy to take charge and face his demons, coming up with a simple solution that sheds some light on the subject of irrational fears. Jenkinss text appears almost entirely in conversation bubbles that contain the childs fear-based logic, the bull terriers blas sarcasm, and occasional gratifying instances of warmth between them. In Yums expressive illustrations, varied and with lots of white space, the scary things are not that scary but neither are they so silly as to be making fun of the protagonist (thats the dogs job). And, sure, its rewarding to see that bull terrier get the smug scared right out of him, but more rewarding is the boys realization that he can be brave -- and that everyone gets the willies. elissa gershowitz (c) Copyright 2015. 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
With the help of his two dogs, a boy attempts to tackle his fearsboth imagined and real. Opening the book is a list of four scary things: monsters, ghosts, witches, and trolls. At first the boy doesn't want to reveal them to his dogs, a pug and a bull terrier. "Can't tell you. It's too much terror." But the bull terrier persists, and the two discuss each creature's scariness quotient. This hilarious back-and-forth conversation occurs in dialogue bubbles as the quizzical pug looks on. The boy then turns to scary "stuff that definitely exists," such as his nasty cousin, the bossy crossing guard, big growling dogs, and swimming pools that might have sharks in them. The terrier breezily brushes away each fear until the boy mentions the dark. "Okay," says the terrier. "Now that's a little scary." As the boy says, "Nameless evil could be lurking" there. The page turn reveals the boy and both dogs on a pitch-black spread with only eyeballs and dialogue to convey the heightened fear they are experiencing. The boy's solution is obvious but feels absolutely perfect given the scenario. Readers and their grown-ups will howl with laughter at the dry humor and the detailed illustrations that capture every eye roll and skeptical sideways glance. Jenkins and Yum perfectly portray the anxiety and false bravado of this delightful cast of characters who ultimately find fun in the scary stuff. (Picture book. 4-8) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
