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
*Starred Review* In an empty house on the edge of a city lives Leo, the ghost of a young boy. He has been alone in the house a long time, and when a family moves in, he's delighted to have company, immediately rushing out to greet them with tea and toast. But not all families appreciate ghosts; when the tray comes floating toward them, they panic and call in the experts to dehaunt their house. Leo, knowing when he's unwelcome, leaves on his own to roam the city and meets a girl named Jane, who can see him. The trouble is, she thinks he's an imaginary friend, and If I tell her I am a ghost, Leo thinks, I will scare her away. Then, one night, a burglar breaks into Jane's house, and it's up to Leo to do what only a ghost and not an imaginary someone can do. The vintage-style cutout illustrations, almost entirely done in shades of blue, convey Leo's ghostliness and work well with the clever design. The first spread, apparently of an empty room, introduces our hero: This is Leo. Most people cannot see him. But with a turn of a page, there he is (But you can), reading happily, sketched transparently as a simple line drawing. Despite the blue tones and Leo's initial loneliness, this is a tender, touching story of friendship and the power of imagination. And it is sure to warm hearts.--Reagan, Maggie Copyright 2015 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
As a ghost, Leo may be invisible and intangible, but he can still feel bruised. When a family moves into the empty home he occupies, they aren't exactly pleased to see the floating tray of tea and toast he has prepared for them. "This house is haunted!" cries the father as the family cowers in the bathtub. "I hate tea!" says his son. "And I hate ghosts!" In one of several funny-sad moments, Robinson (Last Stop on Market Street) shows Leo floating above the family, hands clasped to his mouth in shock at their reaction. Leaving the house, Leo explores the unfamiliar city and befriends a girl named Jane, who mistakes him for an imaginary friend. Robinson's blue-black palette reflects the somewhat somber mood; along with the somewhat retro look of the art, Leo's formal attire suggests he's been a ghost for some time. Barnett (The Skunk) concludes on a high note, though, as Leo foils a robbery with help from a classic ghost accessory-the white bed sheet. It's a warm and wise story about acceptance trumping difference-including that between life and death. Ages 3-5. Agent: Steven Malk, Writers House. (Aug.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 2-Poor Leo. He's just trying to be a good host to the new family that has moved into his house. However, most people don't like living with a ghost. Knowing he is unwanted, he leaves. What will happen to him? Viewers will rejoice as Leo finds a friend and saves the day. This delightful book by Mac Barnett is beautifully presented in video format; Christian Robinson's largely blue-and-white illustrations with strong geometrical elements are simply animated. A female narrator reads the whimsical text and is accompanied by light, evocative background music. An extensive interview with the author offers additional insights. VERDICT This exceptional production deals with friendship, belonging, and courage and will reach even the youngest audience. An excellent addition to any collection.-Teresa Bateman, Brigadoon Elementary, Federal Way, WA © 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
Leo, a little ghost boy, has to leave his haunted house behind when it is bought by a family who doesnt understand that he just wants to be friends. So he wanders into the city, meets a little girl who thinks hes her imaginary friend (childrens books current pal de rigueur) but who stands by him loyally when Leos true nature is revealed in the course of his foiling a burglar. The friendship between the youngsters is touching and well partnered by Robinsons purply-blue and black acrylic collage illustrations, warm and sweet and simple with a mid-twentieth-century vibe. But the story is ungainly, taking sixteen prefatory pages just to get Leo out of the house and into the city, where he expresses nostalgia for a past there while wed been given to understand hes been a house ghost all [his] life. Sometimes, too, Leo seems incorporeal, as when a police officer walks right through him, and at other times he clearly has a shape, donning a sheet to scare the burglar, for example. While the book as a whole never quite hangs together satisfactorily, each page does offer incidental and kid-pleasing pleasures of its own. roger sutton (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
Leo, like any child, hopes for acceptance, but it's hard to find friendship when one is a ghost. Mystery (the delicious kind) clings to the faded wallpaper and soft blue glow of the title-page spread, as an arm and leg disappear into the wall, and readers are introduced to Leo on a double-page spread apparently empty of people. But then the author's clever text includes readers in the secret, and Leo is revealed. An amiable and appealing child, Leo has spent many years alone in his home reading, until a new family moves in. Leo tries to welcome them; but alas! They want nothing to do with a ghost, and he's forced to leave. Invisible and lonely, he roams until he encounters Jane, a girl with a beautiful, big imagination who invites him to play, assuming he's one of her imaginary friends. Nervously, Leo tells Jane he's not imaginary, that he's real and a ghost, and this wonderful, accepting girl says that's even better. The atmospheric illustrations, done in acrylic paint and pencil, seem simple, but there's an authenticity and precision that is extremely sophisticated. Robinson creates a vintage 1950s-'60s feel, offering up a raw version of M. Sasek. Together, words and pictures construct a whimsical, delightful story that deeply respects the child. And in Jane, they create a brilliant heroine whose powers lie within her wit, her open mind, and her freedom of play. Dazzling. (Picture book. 3-6) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
