Review by New York Times Review
ONE OF MY DAUGHTERS recently asked, "Does my reflection in the mirror have a heart?" Her question, like a koan, kept knocking around my brain for weeks. The oblivious disrupter does that, opening familiar eyes to fresh views, tripping into philosophical challenges. A good picture book can capture this bumbling genius of children and animals, as these four new ones do. They are winning documents of the clumsy, unintended revelation. Badger brothers Tic and Tac are bored in "Laundry Day," by Jessixa Bagley ("Boats for Papa"). They have built a fort, fished, and read all their books forward and backward. Then their mother asks, "Well, would you like to help me hang the laundry?" Their response is enthusiastic, so much so that she's free to slip off to the market while they handle the clothesline. Only one problem. They run out of clean clothes. What follows is an act of exuberant excavation. The boys empty the house of all its contents, sacrificing utility, comfort and convenience to the joy of the clothesline, to the open air. They hang combs, alarm clocks, carrots and checkerboards, apple cores, roller skates, LPs, plungers and paintings. The vibrant array of objects is matched by the book's brilliant color and the moments of delightful minutiae present in each illustration. This Marie Kondo-esque meditation on objects and their uses evolves into an exploration of the nature of play and work. On her return, the wise matriarch surrenders to her sons' reinvention of laundry. Why resist? Why hold on to the labors we never wanted in the first place? The boys themselves, freshly bored, imagine the other domestic arenas where their riotous skills might be best put to use. Dinner? "Tidy," another badger book, this one created by Emily Gravett, reminds me of my onetime Brooklyn landlady. Returning home once, I entered the paved-over garden of her home. She spied a bunch of chard peeking out the top of my grocery bag. "Yick," she said. "Green things." "Tidy's" badger, unlike Tic and Tac, is an efficient fellow named Pete. He decides he needs to clean up the forest. Off-color blossoms are pruned while woodland animals are scrubbed. Explosive portraits of nature meet a disciplined hand, reverent of detail. Fallen leaves are bagged in plastic, and ultimately all the trees are removed so that a neat, thick layer of convenient concrete can be poured over all that icky mud. The horror is complete. "This forest is practically perfect," Pete says. It resembles a parking lot. But soon he is tired and hungry and these woods are no longer a poor man's overcoat. There are no bugs or worms to catch for dinner. The door to Pete's cozy burrow is covered in cement. Pete raises a good question about the role of the oblivious disrupter. Where do dumb and discovery meet? Or how does dumb stop being dumb? Most poignantly here, in Pete's brave, sad confession, one I wish we heard more often: "I have made a mistake." Failure is the most tested tool of learning. While some mistakes of environmental destruction might take a bit longer to correct than those in picture books, Gravett leaves her reader content in a messy, happy, blissfully imperfect restored forest, filled with perfectly imperfect creatures. It is in this kind of forest that Paul Meisel's "My Awesome Summer by P. Mantis" picks up, with illustrations that lead a reader into the large happenings of the smallest of worlds. This celebration of nature's strangenesses and wild wonders is narrated by a hungry praying mantis, those creatures of such bright green intensity and surprising camouflage, spotting one can cause a temporary opening in the fabric of a day, a moment of pause in an otherwise hectic, distracted life. Meisel leads his reader through three seasons with this fascinating critter. Along the way, we confront confounding nature. "I'm hungry. Growing so fast!" our narrator says. "I ate one of my brothers. O.K., maybe two." Between multiple (hysterical) acts of cannibalism, our narrator hides like a stick, sheds her skin, tricks predators, and eventually learns how to fly. She is humorously unapologetic - she is who she is, in all her wonder. And, she is hungry. As a reader learns much about this marvelous creature - for example, praying mantises are the only insects that can turn their heads from side to side - it is not hard to begin to wonder: What odd human behaviors might themselves boggle the mind of the majestic praying mantis? We are a curiosity, and we are curious. Why are we here if not to explore the wonder of this world? Even if sometimes we do this by stumbling into and through our explorations. In Jon Agee's "Life on Mars," a young astronaut has made his way to the red planet. The appeal of these pages comes in the juxtaposition of the brightest reds and yellows against a space palette of subdued grays and black. We learn that our astronaut is looking for life and that he is considered "crazy" for doing so. "Nobody believes there is life on Mars. But I do." His conviction in himself is hopeful. He's brought chocolate cupcakes to aid in his search, a bit of bait, a gesture of friendship. But as the drabness of the planet and the critical voices back home overwhelm our hero with self-doubt, he fails to notice he's being followed by a friendly-looking, large red Martian. As disappointment and doubt mount, he misplaces his box of cupcakes and his spaceship. It is in this darkest moment of feeling lost that our young astronaut at last spies a brilliant yellow flower growing in the gray. He is delighted. He has found life. After scaling an oddly shaped red Martian, I mean, mountain, he's reunited with his cupcake box and his spaceship. While he leaves the Martian unmet, we are made hopeful by fresh questions and mysteries about our ultimately unknowable and inexhaustibly interesting universe. Each of these four books invites us to be fearless with our faults and bold in our explorations, and to remember wonder is never withdrawn. Each may also serve to remind some readers of their Samuel Beckett, in case they have somehow forgotten the Irish absurdist's refrain. "Try again. Fail again. Fail better." SAMANTHA HUNT is the author of novels including, most recently, "Mr. Splitfoot."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [January 1, 2017]
Review by Booklist Review
Deep in the forest lived a badger named Pete, / who tidied and cleaned and kept everything neat whether it's detangling fox's tail or polishing rocks, Pete is a diligent tidier. But after raking and bagging a mountain of fallen leaves, neatnik Pete decides the now-bare trees are unsightly and must go. Removing them, though, has unexpected, snowballing consequences when a rainstorm causes flooding that leaves behind abundant mud. Pete's solution? Cement over everything No mud / no leaves / no mess / no trees . . . This forest is practically perfect,' said Pete. Alas, upon discovering his home and food is now inaccessible, he realizes his tidying quest may have finally gone too far. Fortunately, the other animals help restore everything, bringing both a happy outcome and a new perspective for Pete. Gravett's lilting, rhyming lines incorporate witty touches, while her enchanting, color-rich illustrations depict the forest setting, animals, and events with whimsical, scrutiny-inviting details. With a humorous narrative and charming artwork plus a playful message of moderation and the value of environmental conservation this is an all-around delight.--Rosenfeld, Shelle Copyright 2016 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Pete the badger works ceaselessly as the forest's cleaner-upper-early on, Gravett (Little Mouse's Big Book of Beasts) paints him grooming a fox and giving an owl a sponge bath-so autumn, with all those untidy leaves, fills him with anxiety. He swings into action, and readers see him atop a mountain of leaf-filled trash bags. Now, the leafless trees bother Pete; he digs them up, and when that leaves a muddy mess, he paves it all over-"perfectly tidy and perfectly neat"-with disastrous consequences. There's no suggestion of malice behind Pete's actions; Gravett's bouncy rhymes emphasize instead his single-minded devotion to his goal ("Pete called in the diggers,/ he called in the mixers,/ he called in the concrete,/ the rakers, the fixers"). In the background, the delicate leaves and gnarled trunks of Gravett's forest testify to the beauty of nature just as it is. A die-cut cover whose openings reveal Pete among the trees underscores the sense of deep, luxuriant growth. Some may miss the dark humor of Gravett's earlier books, but her message about environmental damage is delivered with the lightest of touches. Ages 4-8. (Mar.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
PreS-Gr 2-Pete, a badger, realizes his obsession with neatness has gone too far when he experiences its consequences. Die-cuts leading to the title page show Pete depositing stray leaves in the trash. He clips nonmatching flowers, grooms a scruffy fox, bathes the birds and brushes their beaks, vacuums debris, and scrubs the rocks. He even collects fallen autumn leaves and puts them into hundreds of garbage bags. But the "bare and scrappy" trees still displease him, so he removes them all and solves the ensuing mud problem after a rain by paving the forest floor. Painfully aware that now he can no longer access his burrow or find food, Pete enlists the help of his woodland friends to restore their forest home. The brief rhyming text invites reading aloud, but Gravett's hilarious illustrations, rendered in pencil, watercolor, and crayon, make this tale shine. Pete's cleaning materials are everywhere, even stored in trees. A lineup of birds with toothbrushes await beak scrubbing. Forest animals flee their homes amid gray-filled scenes of devastation only to return to help in the restoration process and enjoy a picnic on a carpet of new spring grass. But alert readers will see that the ants and other creatures are taking steps to keep Pete from returning to his excessive tidying. What the badger hides behind his back, though, leaves room for doubt. VERDICT Youngsters will surely grasp the story's environmental message, but it is told with so much humor and charm that they will want to return to it again and again. A read-aloud winner.-Marianne Saccardi, Children's Literature Consultant, Cambridge, MA © 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
A path forged through the book's die-cut holes (beginning on the cover) brings readers deep into the forest. Careful observers will notice brooms and scrubbing brushes hidden among the trees and branches, but the focus is on a badger named Pete. A rhyming text tells how Pete likes to keep everything clean: deadheading the flowers, brushing the fox, bathing the birds. Then autumn leaves start falling, and Pete struggles to keep ahead of the clutter. Each action leads to unintended consequences and a bigger mess, until he finally pours concrete over the whole thing: "No mud / no leaves / no mess / no trees. / Perfectly tidy and perfectly neat. / 'This forest is practically perfect,' said Pete." Unfortunately, with concrete covering the forest floor, Pete can no longer get into his underground home, and his dinner options have become very limited. Snuggled up inside a small concrete mixer that night, Pete admits that he might have made an error, and the next day the other animals help him rectify it. The emotionally engaging illustrations burst with comedy, personality, and interesting details (check out the CIP page), and the color palette carries the story seasonally from its autumn beginnings to its final springtime scene, closing on a messy picnic among the forest creatures. Not entirely rehabilitated, Pete hides some cleaning supplies behind his back, but the wise ants have the situation under control. julie roach (c) Copyright 2017. 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
How tidy can a forest become and remain a forest?Pete, a badger, is intense and intent on neatening his forestno holds barred. "He tidied the flowers by checking each patch, / and snipping off any that didn't quite match." He grooms a dubious fox (using, hilariously, a hedgehog as a brush); he sweeps, scours, and vacuums; he brushes birds' beaks with toothbrushes. When autumn leaves swirl down, he bags them and stands atop the mountain of newly filled black plastic trash bags. A quick uprooting of every tree and a flood drop readers suddenly into a new visual world. Gone is the friendly vibe; gone are autumnal oranges and greens; gone is any background white space. In gray rain and murky brown mud, Pete's sharp black-and-white face and his red mop and bucket stand out, alien in the watery landscape. Still, Pete won't yield to nature. While excessive tidying isn't exactly industrialization or climate change, Pete's resulta concrete wastelandinvokes both. The rhyming verse regularly changes structure, reflecting the uncertainty of this environment. Artistic virtuoso Gravett wields her pencils, watercolors, and wax crayons (and a nifty, layered cover die cut) to create detail that's tender and sharp, with backgrounds both lush and quirky. This is an exploration of innocence, loss, the surrender of control, andthankfullythe option of changing direction before it's too late. Alarming, timely, gorgeous, and open-ended, allowing readers the time to think for themselves. (Picture book. 4-8) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
