Review by New York Times Review
BACK IN THE DAY, learning letters and numbers must have been a daunting task for emerging readers and counters. A stood for nothing more interesting than apple, ? for ball, C for cat and so on, not to mention all those boring wooden blocks and marbles to be counted. But ever since Dick and Jane were given the old heave-ho and the Cat in the Hat stepped onto our collective mats, with the '60s cultural revolution right behind him, learning letters and numbers has become ever more fun - witness these four clever, imaginative and enticing books. They should tickle the funny bones as well as the brains of little linguists and mini-mathematicians. Featuring two adventurous and yarn-loving felines, a member of the alphabet on an existential journey, and even our own planet's weather patterns and topography, all show us that learning how to read and count need not be rote. Patrick McDonnell's "The Little Red Cat Who Ran Away and Learned His ABC's (the Hard Way)" begins with our protagonist, a nameless cat (perhaps a cousin of McDonnell's cat Mooch from his utterly brilliant comic strip, "Mutts"?), waking up, eyeing the open front door and bounding out into a wide world full of adventure (in alphabetical order, of course). A mostly wordless (but not letterless) story unfolds as the cat encounters a hungry alligator, a bear and a chicken, who all give merry chase. Sometimes scribbly and always charming ink lines with splashes of a limited palette of watercolors in this pareddown world help showcase the characters and goings-on. The book's vintage visual vibe harks back to George Herriman's "Krazy Kat" and George McManus's "Bringing Up Father" with a dash of the Fleischer Brothers' animated fluidity - as well as, of course, McDonnell's own aura of gentleness and sincerity. The straight ahead from-left-to-right plot takes a twist when a little princess and her dad, the king, appear and give context to all these shenanigans. A book turn, a potty break and the arrival of a unicorn (and not a letter too soon) bring the story to a close with hugs and valentines all around, as well as a well-deserved snooze. McDonnell's work once again proves to be silly, sweet and even timeless. "ABCs From Space," by the science writer Adam Voiland, is a photographic alphabet book that works through the letters via a satellite's view of our planet. Lush photos of Earth's own formations like volcanos and rivers, as well as weather patterns such as tropical storms and cloud formations, create a natural alphabet primer that could only have been made with the assistance of science and technology. Voiland provides a handy appendix that not only identifies the location of each photograph, but also gives just enough information as to what the natural phenomenon actually is to inspire budding geologists and meteorologists. Included, as well, is a smaller version of each photo with the letter superimposed over it for clarity. Twenty or so years from now, we may point to this book as the launchpad for the careers of astrophysicists and astronauts. In "Little i," by Michael Hall ("Wonderfall," "Frankencrayon"), we are introduced to an intrepid lowercase letter i who initiates an interesting journey to reclaim its itinerant dot. As the story opens, it's a humdrum day for the rank-and-file members of the alphabet, until the unimaginable occurs: Lowercase i's dot falls off and rolls away! What unfolds is a wonderfully clever and ultimately triumphant journey of self-discovery for this spunky little character. The letters communicate by assembling themselves into words (without needing two or more of any letter, of course). His alphabet kin wish little i the best of luck as he sails away unsure of his fate into the unknown, on a question mark (brilliant!). On a mysterious island, he encounters exciting exclamation points, walks through a dark cave glistening with asterisk-shaped gems and pauses at a garden of commas, showcasing Hall's facility for both grammar and graphics. You'd never think you would root so hard for a lowercase vowel. But you will. The art, like the text, is bold, simple and engaging. Brightly colored textured collaged paper makes for the perfect technique to deliver this high-concept tale. Little i may be a mere cutout letter, but his humanity shines through. Our intrepid letter finally catches up with his errant appendage, and what transpires next makes what could have been just an ingenious story into a heartfelt experience. The little letter returns to his alphabetical siblings irrevocably transformed. He's braved a hero's journey. "Counting With Tiny Cat," written and illustrated by Viviane Schwarz ("Is There a Dog in This Book?"), is partly a study in counting, and even more the record of a cat's futile pursuit of personal fulfillment and identity through the acquisition of little red balls of yarn. The story opens with the single word "None." Opposite that is Tiny Cat, colorless and alone on a stark white page with an expression suggesting Nietzsche's "if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you." With the turn of a page and the appearance of a ball of yarn, Tiny Cat's expression and focus change. On successive pages, the number of balls increases, and so does Tiny Cat's enthusiasm. His situation made me think of Deepak Chopra's concept of self-referral - an identification with your inner self and the feeling of wholeness and peace regardless of the possessions, people or circumstances in your life. Poor Tiny Cat now rampantly engages in unhinged object-referral, the seeming fulfillment of identity through external means: in this case, little red balls of yarn. As the story progresses, Tiny Cat's selfhood expands in direct correlation to the amount of balls he's collected, but when he tries to acquire just one more, his material possessions, as well as his false identity, collapse. The sparse text reads, "Too many." Indeed. The story closes on Tiny Cat, now atop a small pile of balls of yarn, content and satisfied, accompanied by the text, "Enough." But is it? Will it ever be? Or one day will Tiny Cat experience an epiphany and realize that the material world, by its very nature, is constantly in flux, and that as long as we attach our happiness and even our own identity to it, no matter how much we acquire in life, there will always be an undercurrent of insecurity, because it could all disappear at any moment? Of course, maybe Schwarz just made a book about a cat counting little balls of yarn. It works beautifully on that level, too. ? DAN YACCARINO is the author and illustrator of many picture books including, most recently, "Morris Mole."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 30, 2019]
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Schwarz (There Are Cats in This Book) introduces another charismatic feline in Tiny Cat, a big-eyed kitty drawn in calligraphic ink, who is besieged by balls of red yarn. When "none" are present, Tiny Cat wears an expression of incredulous disgust. "One" ball sparks the cat's interest, "three" are perfect for juggling, and Schwarz moves on to more general descriptions from there: "about a dozen," "lots," and "too many" in a yarn avalanche. Schwarz's crackling visual humor comes through in Tiny Cat's exuberant reactions and movements, and for readers not quite ready to see Tiny Cat go, the endpapers offer additional misadventures. Ages 2-5. (July) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Horn Book Review
On each spread of this not-a-counting book, red-crayon-scribbled yarn balls accumulate in the white space around a cat. As the minimal text "counts" the toys, spare, fluid ink strokes with digital washes of gray communicate the expressive feline's humorous emotional progression. The cat goes from dismayed to pleased ("none" to "four"), overjoyed to overwhelmed ("more" to "too many"), and finally contented ("enough"). (c) Copyright 2018. 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.
