Review by New York Times Review
BUT FOR THE fact that it has corners, it would be easy to mistake a well-built picture book for an egg. How so much life lives in such small quarters is a wonder that never grows old. So, what a joy to find these sturdy morsels in my nest: four picture books that remind us anew that inspiration is a fledgling of process. If Neal Layton were a bird, he'd be part of that genus that includes John Burningham and Quentin Blake, because it is with similar delight and abandon that he warbles and flits about his own branches. It's blue dawn as we glide toward the cozy conifer at the center of Layton's lovely new book, "The Tree." You likely don't yet hear the rumble of the pickup winding down the road, or the distant echo of Robert Burns's "The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men" bouncing off a purple yawn of mountains. And we still can't read the tilted sign next to the tree . . . until the sun has risen. "land for sale." Layton arranges two squinty clouds and a frowning fence around his giant nose of a tree to let us know how to feel about this. But the sadness is fleeting, because we soon discover the lovable families who call this tree home. It's filled with googly-eyed rabbits, sheepish owls, eager squirrels and birdsong. And then the pickup pulls up with its rumpled passengers, and their wooden crates, and their giant saw and their "wonderful plan" for a dream home of their own. When their sawing causes a bird's nest to fall, the newcomers stare thoughtfully at the chicks singing at their feet, much as Burns must have stared at that mouse's nest he turned up with his plow two centuries earlier, and which inspired his poem. But what follows aren't simply words of regret (or sympathy) about nature's vulnerability in the face of progress. "The Tree" turns out to be Layton's unapologetically hopeful plan for how mice and men (and bunnies and owls and squirrels and birds) might live happily together going forward. The tree at the center of Deborah Freedman's dreamy "This House, once" is "a colossal oak tree about three hugs around and as high as the blue." It is now the small wooden door of a pointy little house. Freedman (who was once an architect) is not offering us a plan for some future home, however. Instead the book is a blueprint for mindfulness and gratitude for the homes in which we already live. With the wooziness that comes from sitting close to a fire, and in a whisper of colors that have the hypnotic allure of bruises, Freedman deconstructs and rebuilds her toasty house. "These stones," she says, laying the foundation, "were once . . . deep asleep, tucked beneath a blanket of leaves." "These bricks," she adds, framing the door, "were once mud that oozed around roots." We turn the page to find a small cat we've been tailing from the title spread playing in the mud with a giddy frog, a shy turtle and a bird. The cat ends up back at its home, where a tiny person holds the door open. I started to feel lightheaded when the house began dreaming about its own deconstructed past, but so long as the embers of Freedman's incantation continue to glow, I'm in no rush. Which is a good thing, because if there's anything Kevin Henkes loves to do, it's make you wait. Following in the wake of his award-winning "Waiting," Henkes's latest confection, "Egg," is the story of four henless pastel eggs, laid safely inside a big brown border, which houses the warm white of each spread. Three eggs adorably hatch on cue into adorable chicks. one remains a green mystery. Peck. What's inside? Peck peck. Even the chicks want to know. It is only through patience . . . peck . . . and persistence . . . peck . . . that the fourth egg finally reveals its secret: a smiling baby alligator! Without visible teeth! Who needs teeth in a world seemingly made of marzipan? still, the minty interloper looks like it could bite, so the chicks fly off and the alligator finds itself adorably alone and miserable. It's only after the chicks realize the alligator poses no threat that they decide they could maybe be friends. Which is exactly what happens. In the hands of someone less generous and wise, "Egg" might taste like a pack of Easter Peeps with a Cracker Jack surprise and a paper fortune, but Henkes makes it a candy-colored koan, equal parts kaiseki and comic strip. Though its appearance may seem as familiar as the setting sun, this book's full flavor is as toothsome and elusive as tomorrow. On its effortless surface - a white page peppered lightly with wildflowers and weeds - the exuberant "A Greyhound, a Groundhog" is about exactly what its title suggests: a delectable groundhog and a lithe greyhound. But what Emily Jenkins and Chris Appelhans's lyrical collaboration is really about is the intoxicating thrill of friendship, and the boundless joy of play: play between improbable friends; play between color and empty space; play between language and meaning; and play between author and illustrator. In her dedication Jenkins, who wrote the words, credits Ruth Krauss and her "A Very Special House" as being the seed from which her own text took root. What Jenkins surely knows but doesn't say is that Krauss had a very game dance partner in some guy named Sendak, and that it is in the drunken waltz between Krauss's words and Sendak's pictures that their book's real magic resides. Which is equally true of the fetching footwork Appelhans and Jenkins have cobbled together . . . together. Four cheeps and cheers for life's green mysteries! ROWBOAT WATKINS is the author and illustrator of "Rude Cakes." His next picture book, "Pete With No Pants," comes out in May.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [January 1, 2017]
Review by Booklist Review
*Starred Review* With impressive economy of language, Jenkins (Toys Meet Snow, 2015) crafts an energetic, guileless story about the camaraderie between a greyhound and a groundhog. Much as Emily Gravett did in Orange Pear Apple Bear (2007), Jenkins uses a handful of words (round, ground, hog, dog) that she combines, splices, and rearranges on each page. On one spread, the groundhog watches as the greyhound chases its tail in a circle: A groundhog, a greyhound, / a grey little / round hound. This repetition is ideal for young readers and listeners, who will also be swept up by the abundant wordplay. As the two start to run in gleeful, dizzying circles, the text becomes jumbled into nonsensical phrases that pleasurably trip off the tongue. Words arc and swoop over the pages, mimicking the animals' antics, until an awe-inspiring moment stops them in their tracks. This simple story is elevated by Appelhans' watercolor-and-pencil illustrations, which capture the dog and hog's joie de vivre with dynamic streaks and swooshes. In moments of stillness, readers can appreciate the greyhound's graceful lines and dappled, opaline coat, or the coconut-shaped groundhog's cheery grin. This unusual duo will make a heartwarming addition to any read-aloud collection.--Smith, Julia Copyright 2016 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Dedicated to picture book icon Ruth Krauss, this elegant pas de deux between two unlikely creatures recalls the sense of uninhibited play that Krauss brought to her own work. "A hound./ A round hound./ A greyhound," Jenkins (Toys Meet Snow) starts, accompanied by Appelhans's watercolor of a curled-up dog, its abstract form captured in a few graceful strokes. "A hog./ A round hog./ A groundhog," she continues, as Appelhans (Sparky!) paints a fat, furry fellow with tiny ears and a shy smile poking its head up aboveground. For "a greyhound, a groundhog,/ a found little/ roundhog," the artist shows the dog approaching the startled rodent, and the two soon make friends: "Around, round hound./ Around, groundhog!" The animals play, the words play, and the faster the creatures circle, scamper, and bound, the more mixed up the words get ("A greyhog,/ a ground dog,/ a hog little hound dog"). Appelhans paints the dog and hog cavorting through an idyllic world ("Astound!" Jenkins exclaims, as they surprise a group of butterflies), and their adventure celebrates the sounds of words, the lure of rhythm, and the joy of movement. Ages 3-7. Illustrator's agent: Judith Hansen, Hansen Literary. (Jan.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
PreS-Gr 2-In a picture book that demands to be read aloud, a greyhound and a groundhog spin in visual and verbal circles. A limited gray and brown watercolor palette-and an equally limited selection of consonant and vowel sounds-characterize this phonologically clever, fundamentally joyful, and subtly unified picture book. Words, text, and creatures begin in simple lines (the words "A hound. A round hound" are printed in a straight line above a sleeping greyhound on the first page), but all three increasingly start to rotate (the sentence, "The ground and a hog and some grey and a dog" later curves around the page, accompanied by a whirling, tongue-lolling canine). Just as readers grow accustomed to the muted colors and tongue twisters ("Around, round hound/Around, groundhog!"), both begin to change: "around and around" becomes "and astound" as the greyhound-fully facing readers for the first time-notices one butterfly, and then more, come into the visual field, bringing with them the latent pinks, blues, and purples that an observant viewer will have seen hiding in the grays all along. The butterflies soon fly off the edge of the page, but the amazement lingers as the eponymous animals, finally worn out, settle in for a nap. Accompanied by newly restraightened, resimplified text. VERDICT A lovely, lyrical paean to the natural order, with an element of wonder and grace. Perfect for one-on-one and group sharing.-Jill Ratzan, Congregation Kol Emet, Yardley, PA © Copyright 2016. 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 Kirkus Book Review
Friendship blossoms between canine and rodent in this paean to the sheer joy of being alive. A greyhound and a groundhog are startled to meet, one waking from a nap and the other popping out of a burrow. Before long, however, they are frolicking together, romping about and running through meadows before finally collapsing in satisfied fatigue. Jenkins playful text (A round hound, a grey dog, a round little hound dog. / A greyhog, a ground dog, a hog little hound dog) has a catchy rhythm that begs to be read out loud. The text dances across the page, perfectly in sync with the watercolor pictures; on one page the line and a sound hovers beside the splash created by the greyhounds foot, its curvature visually echoing the arc of the water. By varying perspective and distance, Appelhans creates dynamic, high-energy illustrations that maintain interest despite featuring only two characters against a plain, minimalist background. Readers look down on the two friends from above as they spin in giddy circles and see them in comical close-up as a butterfly flits past. Groundhog bursts from the end of a hollow log, paws outstretched, about to soar above the heads of readers, who have a ground-level view of the action. This delightful story is a feast for the eyes and ears, and it will hold up well to repeated demands from eager young listeners. (Picture book. 2-6) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
