Review by New York Times Review
Why are we so sure that reading books to kids is a valorous act, far superior to cuing up the nefarious iPad? Yes, story time can be tender, and the iPad a mechanized babysitter. But my kids - in the glassy absorption they display, and their addict's insistence on "another!" whenever the current entertainment concludes - can seem as mindlessly hooked on the narrative technology of the picture book as on the exploits of the PAW Patrol. Four new picture books make inventive use of that sturdy old technology as they tell stories for kids living modern, computer-saturated childhoods. Some of these books are skeptical about the value of our wires and devices, while others embrace the possibilities change may bring. UNPLUGGED (SCHOLASTIC, 32 PP., $17.99; ages 3 to 7), written and illustrated by Steve Antony, is in the former camp; it's a gorgeous piece of propaganda for going outside. Our hero is Blip, a sweet, squareheaded robot with goggly eyes and a cheerful smile. In a suite of grayscale pages featuring cables, monitors and pixelated images on screens, Blip revels in the pleasures her computer brings. She plays counting and singing games, watches jugglers and waterfalls, and falls asleep contented by a charcoal-hued screen saver of the sun going down. Then, Blip trips and falls down the stairs, bouncing out her front door and into a technicolor wonderland where three forest creatures (including dead ringers for Bambi and Thumper, plus a duck) help her explore nature. Antony's use of vivid but gentle color here conveys the full spectrum of joy Blip discovers. As it turns out, her favorite computer pursuits - counting and singing, juggling and exploring - can all be done with friends outdoors. Vibrant scenes that slyly mirror each online activity depicted in the first half of the book reinforce the point. If that point feels slightly simplistic - for most kids, mere exposure to a tree swing does not result in the total renunciation of modern technology - the book is so elegantly illustrated and cleverly conceived, and Blip so charming, that you won't mind. One person who might reject this Luddite message, though, is Charlotte, the protagonist of Shanda McCloskey's DOLL-E 1.0 (LITTLE, BROWN, 42 PP., $18.99; AGES 4 TO 8). Charlotte has electric blue hair, a pet dog named Blutooth and a holster for her drill attached to her desk. She spends her time trying out virtual reality headsets and troubleshooting her parents' computer woes while they watch news reports investigating whether kids are "too techy." Then she's given a doll. For a tinkerer like Charlotte, this "human-shaped pillow" is a disappointing gift, It's useless as a playmate; it can't dance or build things or do anything at all except say the word "mama," a role Charlotte rejects. ("How can 1 be your mama?" she asks. "I'm just a kid.") But then Charlotte realizes any toy that can talk must have a "power supply," and she sets to work, retooling the doll to be the souped-up companion she's dreamed of. "Doll-E 1.0" is McCloskey's debut, and it's a vigorous, witty and valuable addition to the still too-small shelf of books about girls and engineering. Where titles like "Rosie Revere, Engineer" feature characters struggling to find the confidence to experiment and build, Charlotte wears her technical prowess with brisk nonchalance, which allows McCloskey to tell a more complex and surprising story. Charlotte's power is a given. The fact that it stems from her facility with things electrical - literal power - is underscored by McCloskey's animated illustrations. The pages are enlivened with bolts of high-voltage yellow, and they lovingly record the detritus of our electrified lives: There are more cords, wires, outlets, plugs and batteries here than you typically see in the sylvan tableaus of kiddie lit. Before we were so wired, however, we had the subject of Samantha Berger's new picture book, SNAIL MAIL (RUNNING PRESS, 32 PP., $17.99; AGES 3 ?? 6), illustrated by Julia Patton. In this fantastical ode to the United States Postal Service, Berger posits that before email, actual snails were responsible for transporting physical letters to and fro. We meet four intrepid gastropods charged with bringing a love letter from a girl in Santa Monica to a boy in New York. At times the snails heave the letter aloft with great effort, each taking a corner; at others they ride it like a magic carpet, in cahoots with sparrows who carry it across a few states. Patton's layered images evoke the pleasures of paper. We see fragments of maps, envelopes and graph paper, postcards and stamps. Gauzy American landscapes - a red-rock desert, a rainbowed glade - are threaded with a dashed red line that tracks the snails' progress. And when the letter is delivered, the recipient isn't the only one who swoons; we see in a subtle cloud of hearts that two of our slimy couriers have fallen in love. The passion of the snails is nowhere mentioned in the text. The tale is hidden in the illustrations, a secret second story line for readers to discover on their eighth or 11th or umpteenth time through. "Doll-E 1.0" contains one, too; keep your eye on that dog. Further evidence that the best picture books are glorious mechanisms, well designed for the repeat reading young kids enjoy. The love story at the heart of BLUE RIDER (GROUNDWOOD, 32 PP., $17.99; AGES 3 TO 8), a sumptuous wordless tale written and illustrated by Geraldo Valerio, is between a young girl and a book. We find the girl living in an apartment in a cool blue city full of orderly rectangles and people bustling on the street, many lost in their headphones or screens. From the start, the use of color is so sophisticated you can almost hear it, as when the acidic blue "O" of a baby's mouth suggests a penetrating wail. On the sidewalk the girl spies a book. Back in her room, one image - a blue horse with a rainbow mane and a yellow tail, leaping over a field of marigolds under a sparkling starry sky - is so arresting it transforms the girl's vision. Suddenly her room and her city are alight with the bold colors of the horse's mane, and she's cast into a kaleidoscopic reverie: a field of bright blooms, a butterfly's wing, a dazzling abstract rectangular steed. We leave the girl beaming. An afternoon without technology - or, rather, with an old technology - has turned on a light switch in her mind. JULIA TURNER is the editor in chief of Slate.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [May 20, 2018]
Review by Booklist Review
A charming, childlike robot named Blip spends her days blissfully gazing at her large computer screen, until a blackout causes her to become unplugged. Outside, she frolics with a trio of newfound animal friends. As the day ends, Blip sadly leaves her new friends, returns home, and plugs in. However, she can't get the thrill of her outdoor adventures out of her mind; leaving her computer behind, she exits, undoubtedly off to pursue more escapades of the unplugged kind. The book's large format, with several pages seamlessly split into sequential scenes, effortlessly displays a good number of Blip's activities both indoors and out, making the minimal text almost unnecessary. Blip's indoor activities are depicted in black-and-white with early computer graphics on the screen, while the outdoor illustrations switch to full color, showing animals in a pleasing cartoon style and making it clear why Blip would prefer unplugged experiences. While this may not sell any screen-addicted child on the merits of outdoor play, it is a fun adventure with an appealing cast.--Enos, Randall Copyright 2018 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Blip is a wide-eyed, square-headed robot who is plugged into her computer 24/7. The large screen gives her everything she needs: "Blip learned new things, played fun games, danced to music, and visited faraway places," writes Antony (Thank You, Mr. Panda), showing the cheery robot standing on her head as she watches a pixelated workout video, singing along with a pixelated duck, and admiring a pixelated landscape. Then the power goes out, and Blip tumbles down the stairs and into the analog world. It's a revelation. Before the blackout, Blip lived in a flat world rendered in graphite gray; outside, the world is full of shapes and colors-there's nothing flat or pixelated about it. A rabbit, a fawn, and a duck welcome Blip into their circle, and she discovers that everything she did on the computer is much more fun in real life with real friends. Antony's digital-age parable avoids turning heavy-handed-his characters are so cheery, carefree, and congenial that readers will quickly forget that they're being taught a lesson. Ages 3- 5. (Feb.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
PreS-Gr 1-Through soft, black-and-white graphite-accented illustrations, readers are introduced to Blip, a small robot, who likes being plugged into her computer. Blip spends all day learning new things, playing games, listening to music, and visiting faraway places online. Until one day when Blip trips over her wire and tumbles all the way downstairs and out the front door. Suddenly, the pages change to warm, full-color spreads, and Blip topples, rolls, and drifts across grassy hills, forests, and a long, winding river. Outside, Blip also spends her day learning new things, playing games, dancing to music, and visiting faraway places with cozy, new woodland friends. However, the inviting pencil drawings with digitally added colors and textures capture the magic, innocence, and joy of outside play, and contrast highly with the black-and-white computer-play pages. When Blip finally gets back home to her computer, she can't stop thinking about "how great it was.to be.unplugged." VERDICT A visually entertaining story with an underlying message to get outside and play. Perfect for reading aloud and for good old-fashioned one-on-one sharing.-Brianne Colombo, Fairfield Free Public Library, NJ © 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
Robot Blip "liked being plugged into her computer." One day there's a blackout, and Blip finds herself outside, where the book's industrial palette yields to a pastel-colored world of greenery and animals. This is a "lesson" story that doesn't feel like one thanks to Antony's canny art, which shows Blip and friends happily doing what she'd only been watching on-screen characters do. (c) Copyright 2019. 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
Blip, a boxy little robot, loves plugging herself into her computer all day long. Her cord connects her to a big screen that offers learning apps, blinking games, catchy music, and even pictures of lush landscapes. When a blackout and a tumble down the stairs somersault Blip out the front door, she's suddenly in the gauzy light of the natural world. The small robot reels. Inside Blip's house it's darkjust stark blacks and whites. Outside, soft, spring pigments paint grassy hills, curvy tree trunks, scattered flowers, furry creatures, and a winding, sky-blue stream. Flipping back, readers might notice that Blip's daily computer activity is depicted in vignettes that move incrementally across the page in linear rows, with square pixels assembling to generate crude computer-screen visuals. Blip's dramatic immersion into the varied, curvy, colorful outdoors nudges readers to compare the two settings. Blip's real-life play mirrors her virtual-play activities, except it now burbles with immediacy, spontaneity, and interactive fun with new, adorable animal friends (a wide-eyed bunny and baby-faced duck). Will Blip plug back in at the end of the day? Readers may doubt it, as they've decided to stay unplugged a little more themselves. A gentle catalyst for crucial conversations about balancing digital diversions with real-life play as well as an introduction to self-guided critical thinking. (Picture book. 3-6) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
