Review by New York Times Review
IN THIS SOMETIMES unkind climate we find ourselves surrounded by, laughing to keep from crying is more than a maxim. It's a requirement for sanity. As Langston Hughes, one of America's finest poets, wrote: "Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you." Sure, parents might turn to YouTube's "Dad Jokes" or Jerry Seinfeld's "Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee" for release and sustenance - but for young people, the rhythm and rhyme of poetry written specifically for them still delivers jolts of muchneeded joy and happiness. From Shel Silverstein's quirky verse, to the silly dilly songs and poems of Alan Katz, to more recent rhyming picture books like Sue Fliess's romping holiday parody "We Wish for a Monster Christmas," short and funny wordplay continues to be a sure shot. Now, you can add Chris Harris and Lane Smith's "I'm Just No Good at Rhyming" to this pantheon. Right offthe bat, Harris sets the tone for the nonsense that will ensue: "I'm just no good at rhyming / It makes me feel so bad / I'm just no good at rhyming / And that's why I'm so blue." This sleight of hand begs for us to read aloud, loudly and confidently, and we do, becoming less reader and more participant in a whimsical call-and-response. In "The Good-Child Test," he writes, "I used special ink on this poem's last line / That some children see and some don't / If you're a good child, then you'll read it just fine - " Then, of course, he leaves the final line blank. The set up is so well done that we know it's coming, and we feel good because we do. This debut collection shines when Harris is concise and whimsically original, as in the poems "Worst. Birthday. Party. Ever." and "Toasted Knight for Lunch Again?" ("Mama Dragon / Ate Sir Tom / And gave her child / Sir Gustav. / Baby said, / 'No armor, Mom -/ I want him / With the crust off!'") Though many of the longer poems excel in both style and storytelling, a few seem to lag. Nonetheless it's worth getting all the way through; the book includes clever little notes, sidebars, apologies and epilogues that will keep you in stitches. Even the front matter and jacket flap are upsidedown amusing. Continuing in the tradition of his "It's a Book" and "The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales," Lane Smith makes his trademark oil and acrylic images seem to jump offthe page (and make us laugh even more). "I'm Just No Good at Rhyming" is the perfect canvas for Smith's simple and absurd sepia-toned mischief. Together, this Hollywood writer (Harris was an executive producer of "How I Met Your Mother") and award-winning illustrator (Smith has received two Caldecott Honors) might just make all of us - the kids and the grown-ups - smile again. KWAME ALEXANDER is the author of the Newbery Medal-winning novel "The Crossover" and its forthcoming sequel, "Rebound."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [July 16, 2018]
Review by Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Children are gooder and grown-ups are badder / At just about all things that matter, Harris declares in Grown-Ups Are Better (I), the first in a series of three poems of the same title. In this magnificently wacky romp through verse (rhymed and unrhymed, whispered and shouted, upside down and sometimes invisible), television producer Harris and two-time Caldecott honoree Smith prove just that, evoking childlike wonder with paeans to dragons, trick riddles, and raucous lullabies, helped along by Smith's inimitable dappled digital-media and watercolor designs. There are moments of sheer hilarity. Eight recounts the fate of a boy whose parents forgot to teach him the cardinal number an oversight that disrupts the entire book's pagination. In I Don't Like My Illustrator, Harris ridicules Smith, only to be gravely rebuked on the facing page. Classics aren't safe either. Two Roads concludes with a condemnation of Frost (Thanks for nothing!), and Jack Sprat (Updated) ends not with a clean platter, but death. But it isn't all unipedes (a one-legged centipede, of course) and ginormous hippos; the revelry is tempered by earnest wisdom, too, including insights for the introverted, the downtrodden, and the hopelessly mischievous. In the closing poem, Harris beckons, Let's meet right here in twenty-five years. While this moving, madcap anthem to language is sure to stand the test of time, readers will be revisiting it far sooner than that.--Shemroske, Briana Copyright 2017 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
This debut collection of verse from TV writer/producer Harris hits a poetry trifecta: high energy, rhymes that can rival Cole Porter's ("Nothing is impossible.... Every tooth is flossable"), and a torrent of ideas. Some poems turn on simple wordplay ("The Ice Cream Mondae"); others are surprisingly introspective ("I'm shy on the outside, but inside my head?/ I'm not at all shy-I'm outgoing instead") or appear sappy on the surface, only to catch readers off guard with an ironic swerve. Parodies of nursery rhymes, meta-poetry that builds on earlier poems à la nesting dolls ("Read me the poem that's titled 'The Poem That's Titled "The Poem That's Titled 'The Door'"), and comments stuck to the pages provide more surprises. Smith's homage to the 1950s aesthetic of artists such as Cliff Roberts is updated with diverse characters and loaded with over-the-top raucousness, and he includes some visual jokes all his own. The whole production is a worthy heir to Silverstein, Seuss, and even Ogden Nash: "If I ever find myself holding a gecko.../ I'll lecko." Ages 6-up. Author's agent: Richard Abate, 3 Arts Entertainment. Illustrator's agent: Steven Malk, Writers House. (Sept.)? © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 3-8-Those who claim to hate poetry will enjoy this riotous compilation just as much as those who love the form. Fans of Ogden Nash, Shel Silverstein, and Jack Prelutsky will rejoice in finding another member of their gang. Wordplay abounds: "If ever I find myself holding a gecko./I'll lecko." Typography is the source of gags, as when the letters "d" and "b" face off for a duel, turn to shoot each other, and fall over dead, having become the letters "p" and "q." And the title poem will have kids howling with laughter as the narrator repeatedly misses the most obvious rhymes: "I'm just no good at rhyming./It makes me feel so bad./I'm just no good at rhyming,/And that's why I am blue." Smith matches Harris's wit with his own zaniness, merging line drawings with printing techniques that add a variety of texture and mood. The interplay between text and illustration provides further delights. VERDICT A surefire winner for reading aloud or for snickering with under the covers. Every library will want to add this to its poetry collection.-Miriam Lang Budin, Chappaqua Library, NY © 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
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- / I took the one less traveled by / Since then Ive been completely lost. / Thanks for nothing, Robert Frost! Harriss impressive debut collection of over one hundred poems, riddles, visual jokes, and nonsense offers lots of surprising U-turns and detours. The title poem is proof that Harris knows exactly what hes doing, even when claiming he doesnt: My teacher asked if I could find a word that rhymes with hat. / Its something that a dog might chase. / Aha! I said. A car! Theres a dazzling variety of forms and subjects, which will keep readers engaged and on their toes. Supported by brilliant page design by Molly Leach (of The Stinky Cheese Man fame, rev. 11/92), Smiths stylishly silly mixed-media illustrations raise the irreverence to sublime levels; many of the poems depend on the accompanying art and/or design to extend meaning and enhance impact. The occasional bickering between poet and illustrator (see the poets lament, I Dont Like My Illustrator, and the artists revenge response) adds another layer of absurdity. Even standard book conventions arent safe: the appended title index contains a warning about strange page numbering; Harriss acknowledgments rank recipients on a Level of Gratitude scale (illustrator Smith falls near the bottom--I DO NOT LOOK LIKE THAT!!!); and an unconventional Outdex (of Titles That Did Not Make the Final Cut) is comedy gold. Theres not a dud in the bunch--this is one collection that rewards repeat visits. kitty Flynn (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
A frolicking romp through the zany world of nonsense verse.In the storied tradition of Nash, Lear, and Dr. Seuss, Harris joins forces with Smith to present over 100 original poems and illustrations dedicated to having some serious fun. Visual, aural, and downright guffaw-inspiring puns and riddles abound in this wildly imaginative and cleverly illustrated debut collection. Harris and Smith unite to preach the gospel of irreverence, daring children to explore and test parentaland poeticlimits in a variety of circumstances, whether through typography, illustration, or verse. In "Toasted Knight for Lunch Again?" Smith's vividly textured multimedia double-page spread features Mama Dragon and Baby in conversation, as Baby points to lifeless Sir Gustav laid out on a plate, the feathery plume in his helmet serving as garnish, and whines, "No armor, Mom / I want him / With the crust off!" In " 'Tis Better," Harris cheekily weighs in on the virtues of giving versus receiving, stating: "If that thing's a black eye / Then yeah, I believe it!" Harris and Smith even extend their banter to each other, Harris going so far as to bluntly state, "I Don't Like My Illustrator," and then Smith exacting revenge with a portrait of a snaggle-toothed, hairy-eared Harris with snot dripping from his nose. The inspired and inspiring sense of play knows no bounds. (Poetry. 5-12) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
