Clementine loves red

Review by Booklist Review

Boglar's beloved Polish children's tale about a great big misunderstanding is translated for English audiences. When Pudding, Mark, and Annie happen upon a lost, wailing little girl who introduces herself as Macadamia, they volunteer to help her find the missing Clementine. They're not the only ones looking for her, though; the perspective playfully skips about from one character to another as more join the search for Clementine. Comical miscommunications and flukes accumulate until a startling revelation about the identity of Clementine stops everyone in their tracks. Boglar's tale has the timeless feel of Jeanne Birdsall's The Penderwicks (2005)or an E. Nesbit book: the children are exceedingly independent, and the adults are bafflingly childish. Butenko's simple but cartoonish bright red line drawings accentuate the book's lighthearted, puckish tone. Half of the names are arbitrarily silly, and characterization is spread a little thin across the myriad players, but the farcical action building to the book's major conceit is sure to elicit a giggle.--Kling, Caitlin Copyright 2017 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Originally published in Poland in 1970 and newly translated into British English, this madcap tale comes across as fairly slight, with a predictable twist at the end. Three bored siblings, facing the end of summer vacation in a village at the edge of a forest, discover a "little girl in floods of tears," who followed someone named Clementine into the woods and has now lost her. The siblings, eager for an adventure, settle the girl, named Macadamia, into their bed and set off in search of Clementine. Two neighboring brothers, commanded to stay with the girl, also decide to embark on the quest, as do several adults, each led into the search for different reasons. The various forays into the dark and threatening forest are beset by mishaps, made even more frightening by a sudden thunderstorm, but the broadly drawn characters lack dimension; random details provided fail to distinguish them much as individuals. Butenko's scraggly spot illustrations, rendered in bright vermilion, add welcome drollness to the book as it speeds toward its resolution. Ages 7-9. (June) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 3-5-Originally published in Poland in 1970, this comedic book tells the story of Mark, Annie, and Pudding (aka Derek), who are staying at the Holiday Hamlet. They are looking for one last adventure before their summer vacation ends, so they go into the woods, seeking the famed Frog King. Instead, they discover Macadamia, a little girl who is crying because she has lost someone or something named Clementine. The children are afraid to tell their caregiver about Macadamia because they will be in trouble for tracking mud into the house, so they hide the child and then begin "Operation Clementine." Hilarity ensues as the search party grows and now includes local twins Freddie and Eddie. Night falls fast and with a thunderstorm on the horizon, the kids set out with a fierce resolve to locate poor Clementine. Pretty soon Teddy, the son of a local constable, decides to take his dog Pickles out and join the search as well. Readers will be intrigued to find out exactly who or what Clementine is in this interesting and madcap tale. VERDICT This odd and whimsical offering is a supplementary purchase for large collections where humorous adventures are in demand.-William -Anderson, Scott County Public Library, IN © 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.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Vacationing children endure a thunderstorm in a dark forest, lose and find one another, and join an assortment of characters seeking the mysterious Clementine, who's vanished in the woods. After smuggling Macadamia, the small girl who lost Clementine, into their room, Mark, Annie, and Pudding head into the night. Soon fellow vacationers Eddie and Freddie, whom Mark has enlisted to stay with Macadamia, answer the call to adventure. Nearby, while his policeman dad alerts Constable Podger to the missing Clementine, Teddya Sherlock Holmes fansneaks out with his dog, Pickles, to search. As the thunderstorm reaches the woods, a tired journalist on his way to visit a friend suffers car trouble; the children are separated; and a falling tree mangles Podger's motorbike. Throughout the ensuing muddy mayhem, Clementine proves elusive. Originally published in 1970 in Poland, the story shows its age, and the translators' awkward efforts to update the dialogue don't help. Children play "Red Indians," and chubby Derek's known as "Pudding" in this very English-feeling translation. Still, on balance strengths outweigh weaknesses. Butenko's playful, humorous illustrations reflect Poland's tradition of outstanding art for children. The setting is another highlight. The forest's enduring majesty looms in powerful contrast over the scurrying characters engrossed in their worries and plans. The village of Saint Jude'swhere shoes are for indoors, kids adore mushrooms, and dessert's a once-a-week treatwill feel exotic to young American readers. A rare glimpse of childhood in a vanished world: Soviet-dominated, rural Poland. (Historical fiction. 8-10) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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1. In which we find Macadamia and lose our peace of mind ========================================== It was Saturday, the 26th of August. Why this date is so important will become clear later on, but let's just say for now that this particular Saturday was extremely long and boring. And yet nobody found the prospect of an early night at all amusing. But what else is there to do in a small cottage at the edge of the forest after dark? Of course, grown-ups always find a solution to the problem, but what about children? And what about hens, for instance? Hens are a good example here, because, as everyone knows, in the countryside you "go to bed with the hens". And this was a village in the countryside, with the very ordinary name of St Jude's, but everyone called it the Holiday Hamlet: Mum, Dad and even chubby Mrs Clotted Cream, with whom they were staying. Of course, she had a proper name too, but "Mrs Clotted Cream" was one of Annie's brilliant ideas, because Mrs Clotted Cream provided all the holidaymakers in the area with delicious, thick cream--a mightily important addition to wild strawberries and cheesecake. And even though it wasn't a "cheesecake day", this particular Saturday was to be a very important day in the lives of Mark, Annie and Pudding. Pudding (though with some difficulty) was sitting on top of the fence that separated the chicken coop from the sunflower patch, lazily swinging his legs as he shelled tiny seeds picked straight off the head of a sunflower standing stiffly beside him. Mrs Clotted Cream was very annoyed about it, because almost all the sunflowers had had their best bits nibbled away and the bald patches were conspicuously ugly, but Pudding was so greedy that not even his dad's scolding could stop him. So there he was, sitting on the fence, which was creaking ominously, and he was wondering what he would do tomorrow. After all, when you're on holiday Sundays are really no different from any other day of the week. "What do you think?" he asked, spitting out a seed shell. "Will it be boiled chicken for dinner again tomorrow?" "You can bet it will," replied Mark, furiously scratching his mosquito-savaged calves. Mark hated boiled chicken, but in this small village surrounded by woods, thirty kilometres from the nearest town, there was nothing else to be had. With a big yawn he glanced up above the tall pine trees, tinged red by the setting sun. "Shall we run over to the Frog King?" "We can walk there," said Pudding, scrambling off the fence. "I don't really feel like running!" Perhaps we should explain that Pudding was really called Derek, but no one ever used that name any more, not even Mum, who used to be mad about it. Nor was there anything odd about the fact that the nickname "Pudding" had stuck to him so easily. For as long as anyone could remember, Pudding had always been plump and wasn't fond of moving. So Mark just sighed and nodded. "Shall we fetch Annie?" he asked, just to be polite, because they both knew they always went to see the Frog King in a threesome. Annie had just finished her evening ritual of watering the flower beds and was putting the empty watering can away beside the water butt. "Let's go!" said Mark, sniffing the air. For wafting through the open kitchen window came the aroma of plum tart. "Don't even think about it," said Annie, shaking her hands dry. "We've no chance of a single crumb of it today!" "Why exactly is it that you can only have cakes on Sundays?" complained Pudding. "It's so unfair!" All three of them agreed wholeheartedly. Because really, why are such delicious treats as plum tart or walnut cake always baked on a Saturday? And why can they only be eaten on a Sunday? The children breathed in the smell of the tart once more, and then slowly toddled off in single file towards the small pond, which was surrounded by a dark-green wall of forest. They had discovered the pond--or the Frog King's empire--by accident, early on in their stay at the Holiday Hamlet. While playing Red Indians, with the requisite feathers stuck in their messy hair, they had scattered about the forest in search of Eddie--or Green Arrow--who was hiding somewhere in the undergrowth. Suddenly, a loud scream and a splash had rung out from the left of a huge oak tree, enough to lure Pudding, who that day was acting as camp sentry, out of the wigwam. It had turned out to be Freddie, the Great Cockroach in person, Indian chief and warrior supreme, who had just sunk up to his neck in the duckweed-coated pond. They had combined forces to fish him out, and as he was casting off his drenched clothes, a huge, green frog had leapt out of his shirt pocket. Naturally, that was the Frog King--the ruler of the bottomless pond, the king whose realm, though not large, was extremely rich in froggy citizens. He even had his own frog choir, which gave splendid evening concerts. And so they were marching along in single file, with Mark leading the way, until suddenly he stopped in his tracks. Of course, Pudding went crashing into him and only narrowly avoided knocking him over. "What's up?" asked Annie, bringing up the rear. "Shhh..." whispered Mark, clearly listening to something. "I'm sssscared," stammered Pudding, just in case. Pudding always thought that if he was already frightened, then the whole problem was off his plate, because nothing scarier could possibly happen. "Do you hear that? Someone's crying," said Mark, pointing at a clump of bushes with purple flowers. "Over there!" Now all three of them could hear a soft sobbing noise. Excerpted from Clementine Loves Red by Krystyna Boglar All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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