Review by New York Times Review
Screams. Tears. Meltdowns. New picture books let bad behavior fly, with a bit of advice. when I was A kid, picture books lumped bad behavior into one catchall, gurgling vat. Like a chemical waste plant, it was kept securely out of sight and never dredged. Judy forever patted the bunny. She never yanked its tail. Sal never threw her blueberries in a rage. The girl who rescues Corduroy from an extended limbo in Home Décor and Bedding never screams, "Don't look at me!" or slams a door. In Dr. Seuss there is subversion, but it's the work of Grinches, cats, kangaroos and Things. Even the reigning king of kids breaking bad - Max in "Where the Wild Things Are" - is offstage when he commits the scorched-earth yelling at his mother that lands him alone in his room, starving. Today, children have the advantage of a spate of new books that don hazmat suits and deep-dive with blinding headlamps into that strange, muddy tank of disagreeable behavior, taking an unflinching look at what's drifting in the depths: the screams, the tears, the zigzag moods, the mental short-circuiting - everything that makes the childless scowl in airplanes and shame parents by asking: "How did you ever leave the house?" My 2-year-old, Winter's, worst conduct thus far has been mistaking Avalon, her 1year-old sister, for a toadstool. Granted, there have been several telenovela falls on the floor in protest of shoe removal, and an incident where Winter started running, without a word, then returned to inform me she'd "stormed off." But reading some of these books aloud to her felt akin to handing her "The Anarchist Cookbook." Would they lead to knowledge and enchantment or unleash her inner Jabez Dawes? Yet we plunged in. THE BEWITCHING THE OUTLAW (Groundwood, 32 pp., $17.95; ages 4 to 8), a debut picture book written and illustrated by Nancy Vo, uses spare drawings resembling silent-era film reels to narrate a frontier town's terror at the hands of an outlaw known by "his trail of misdeeds." ("What are misdeeds?" is a question you'd better have a good answer to.) The desperado appears as a wizened, gun-toting shadow slung across railroad tracks and in the scared whispers of shopkeepers and children. When the outlaw vanishes, then returns years later as a humble stranger quietly performing acts of repentance, a confrontation ensues, illuminating the murky fog of real-world forgiveness. Vo's gorgeous black-and white drawings repeat and invert, revealing a stark world of night and day and night. The ground, painted over a collage of old newspaper clippings, appears strewn with illegible print. The shops sell strange potions. ("What's laudanum?" was a question that thankfully went unasked.) The most magical part of the book, illustrating Vo's innate sense of story, is the separate tale of a child's naughty behavior that is followed by connection and kindness. This narrative unfolds exclusively in the illustrations, going unmentioned by the text, revealing how the most wondrous acts can go unnoticed, unless you look closer. IN PEOPLE DON'T BITE PEOPLE (Atheneum, 40 pp., $17.99; ages 2 to 6), Written by Lisa Wheeler and illustrated by Molly Idle, that Class-? preschool felony is faced head-on with the snappy verve of a 1950s toothpaste jingle: "It's good to bite a carrot. It's good to bite a steak. It's bad to bite your sister! She's not a piece of cake." The drawings are bright and no-nonsense, quickly removing, like ripping off a Band-Aid, the stigma of biting. The message is outlined and repeated in tick-tack-toe squares with plenty of illustrations and humor, straightforward, with a hint of Mary Poppins's intolerance for nonsense. "IT'S my birthday. So Boo! I hate all of you!" a little girl says in I hate everyone (POW!, 32 pp., $17.99; ages 2 to 6), Written by Naomi Danis and illustrated by Cinta Arribas. We are dropped into her mind during her birthday party, where the situation goes pear-shaped. "Take off the silly hats. Stop smiling. Stop laughing," she says. And: "You said it was my party. Goo goo. Go away." In bright pink, red and purple paintings, amid the text - squeezed in all caps - the big clueless beaming adults, all of whom recall the figures of Fernando Botero, go about their business, oblivious or unconcerned by the little girl blurting: "I hate you! Don't sing!" The book reads like a version of Whitman's barbaric yawp. It's wildly alive with the girl's unchecked bursts of word and emotion. The way she grasps at and simultaneously rejects love, wanting to be both acknowledged and left alone, is universal and timeless. The book exposes the slipperiness of what we so much believe to be true coupled with the shortcomings of the English language - German comes off better with words like fernweh (wanting to be anywhere but where you are) and fuchsteufelswild (gutting rage). It ends with the exhausted admission, "Somehow even while I am busy hating you... I love you." Tolstoy was after this realization, too, and it took him 1,000 pages. ANOTHER GIRL'S UNTETHERED imagination is unleashed in the superb out, out, AWAY FROM HERE (Flying Eye, 32 pp., $16.95; ages 3 to 6), written by Rachel Woodworth and illustrated by Sang Miao. Her bad mood is a slow burn. She scowls as she brushes her teeth and cries as her parents ignore her, fussing over a baby. The illustrations are vivid and misshapen, with bleeding Gauguin reds and a hint of Rousseau's overstuffed jungles. Things reach a boiling point after the girl's parents are seen in silhouette screaming at each other - to Miao's credit she doesn't temper the terror of the moment - and our heroine, unable to take it anymore, runs through a wooden door and takes refuge in her imagination. She is befriended by a fox, its fur the identical red of her hair, and wanders a forest in which fish have wings and mountains rise "for climbing and conquering." These mountains merge with the world that she fled - becoming "homework" and "messy rooms" and "uneaten carrots" - allowing her to overcome them and return home, relieved and happy. As it turned out, I learned more from these books than Winter did. Of course, she's still a little young to fully understand most of them: As a brand-new scientist exploring her world, she tends to look at all human behavior with uniform acceptance and curiosity. Biting, anger, tantrums - they're just curious little flowers strewn on her sidewalk, which she picks up, examines, then moves on. I, on the other hand, realized I needed to loosen the lid on my futile hope that she is always my happy little girl. Which led me to another eureka moment: Many adult Americans would do well to meander into the children's section of their local bookstore and take a look at books on bad behavior, to reacquaint themselves with the full emotional spectrum of being a person - for their sake and for others'. Because if " I hate you but I want you to love me" doesn't remind you of anyone, then stop reading. It's my party. Go away. ? maris ha PESSLS new novel is "Neverworld Wake."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [June 17, 2018]
Review by Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Say it with me! this chipper book prompts, People don't bite people. / You're not a zombie, dude! / A friend will never bite a friend. / BITING IS FOR FOOD! Paired with a neatly drawn cast of doll-like animals and human figures in Caldecott honoree Idle's (Flora and the Flamingo, 2013) spacious, harmoniously hued illustrations, Wheeler's (Even Monsters Need to Sleep, 2017) infectiously exclamatory rhymes present her anti-biting message with lighthearted but compelling persistence. Along with devoting individual verses to each parent as well as brothers, sisters, friends, and grown-ups in general, she notes that babies, at least, just don't know any better, appeals to her audience's yen for self-determination (What you chew is up to you!), and suggests that teeth are great for shining up your smile! Her observation that some people chew their hair or fingernails but it's gross to bite the skin you're in offers an additional notion that's rarely, if ever, covered in titles addressing dentally aggressive behaviors. After all the don'ts here, the author closes with a definite do involving people who happen to be made of gingerbread. A chewy theme for children with biting issues, and a rollicking read-aloud for all.--Peters, John Copyright 2018 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
In a combination of listicle, admonishment, and pep talk, the well-matched Wheeler (Babies Can Sleep Anywhere) and Idle (the Flora books) remind children that they are too long in the tooth, so to speak, to be chomping on others: "Puppies bite and babies bite./ They're much too young to know./ But you grow bigger every day/ and know where teeth should go." Wheeler's four-line stanzas deploy repetition and rhythm for maximum percussive punch ("It's good to bite a carrot./ It's good to bite a steak./ It's bad to bite your sister!/ She's not a piece of cake"). Idle's pert, radiant pictures alternate between neatly divided worksheet-style grids (which correspond to the bitable and nonbitable items and people mentioned in the verse) and blithe vignettes: one mother fends off her little one by wielding a kitchen chair like a lion-tamer. The aesthetic is reminiscent of 1960s educational films, with every character exuding comic, pedagogical earnestness. Whether readers are biters, bite-ees, or witnesses to a biting incident, they'll find this a toothsome treat. Ages 4-8. Agent: Steven Malk, Writers House. (Apr.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
PreS-K-This instructional book about biting goes above and beyond a basic lesson with its cheeky rhymes and bright, over-the-top illustrations. Wheeler writes in precise rhythmic rhyming verse, informing readers what things are good and bad to bite, in a style reminiscent of Jane Yolen's "Dinosaurs" series. The refrain features the titular "People don't bite people" and always ends with "biting is for food." The suggestions appeal to common sense, reminding children that they are not wild animals, and giving the characters the opportunity to right their behavior, by politely chewing a piece of pizza rather than gnawing on their mother, for example. Caldecott honoree Idle's wide-eyed, retro children jump off the page with ultra bright pastels done in Prismacolor pencils and expressions as sweet as the foods that adorn the cover page. Adults and children alike will appreciate the humor in both the text and illustrations, an element which is often missing in didactic works, from the up-close views of teeth and tongues on the endpapers, to the twist ending featuring gingerbread people (the one exception to the title's rule). VERDICT This book is sure to elicit giggles from group read-alouds or one-on-one sharing. Add to any collection in need of a wildly entertaining title that addresses a common childhood issue.-Clara Hendricks, Cambridge Public Library, MA © Copyright 2018. 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
Wheeler's lilting rhymed verse enumerates the reasons not to bite people and suggests alternatives: "It's good to bite a biscuit. / It's good to bite a plum. / It's BAD to bite your brother. / He's not a piece of gum." The humorous text's underlying message about anger management is useful. Simple rounded shapes in saturated hues keep Idle's dynamic colored-pencil illustrations clean, lighthearted, and easy to follow. (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.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
A rollicking reminder of what to doand not dowith your pearly whites.The commandments rhyme and scan terrifically right out of the gate: "It's good to bite a carrot. / It's good to bite a steak. / It's BAD to bite your sister! / She's not a piece of cake." A white, blond, round-headed kid gazes dubiously across the spread at that blonde sister, who occupies the lower left quarter of her page. The other quarters of her page offernatcha carrot, a steak, and a piece of cake, all retro-styled and glowing. The next spread features a black sibling team with similar instructions. Refrains reiterate that "BITING IS FOR FOOD!" once fabulously rhymed with "You're not a zombie, dude!"and that a "friend will never bite a friend" (more ideal than truth, honestly). Idle's pencil colors are rich and soft. Some of her flat, round-headed figures show neat, inventively continuous outlines of positions that evoke stretching or movement, while others' torsos appear motionless like oval or triangular plastic toys. The gleeful, confident patter feels no need to justify its instructionsno injuries appear, real nor imaginedand to very young readers, biting may sound like merely a manners issue (it's "nasty" and "rude").Find out why people don't bite people elsewhere; get this to summon instant rereads and loud participation. (Picture book. 2-5) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
