Review by Booklist Review
It's not deliberate, but despite the patient remonstrances of his mom and teacher, Sullivan has a lot of trouble keeping the volume down. "I have loudness. In my body. Bubbling up. Always," he explains. "And it always has to come out." He tries, though--squishing his loudness down as long as he can. Biggs ramps up the comedy and drama alike by portraying the lad repeatedly trying to hold in rising tides of green, noxious-looking NOISE until it finally bursts forth in humongous, spread-filling roars like audio vomit. What to do? As it turns out, Sullivan's mighty pipes finally come in handy when, one day, a wandering classmate doesn't hear the teacher's call to come in from the playground. One "ENORMOUS EXTRA-WILD TARZAN JUNGLE YELL!" later, Sullivan is being congratulated for "choosing the right time for loudness." As picture-book premises go, the episode follows a well-travelled path, but Sullivan's efforts to tone down his stentorian speaking voice are sincere enough to be recognized by the grown-ups and so, as his mom and teacher say, "It's a start."
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Redheaded, freckled Sullivan is struggling to self-regulate, and it all comes out ("Not just sometimes. Not just often") in his voice. When he says "hello," bright, huge capital letters spill off the page, and Biggs (The Space Walk) draws Sullivan with his mouth hinged open so wide that readers see the back of his throat. Sullivan's patient mother applauds his efforts to tone it down, for example by taping multiple pillows around his mouth ("It's a start" becomes the book's refrain), but as Ostow (the Louise Trapeze series) has her protagonist explain, "I have loudness. In my body. Bubbling up. Always," and readers can see it's literally true: Sullivan's cheeks fill up with green, gassy-looking bubbles until he simply can't contain them. But a tip from Mama ("Have you tried counting one, two, three?") seems to help some at school, and Sullivan learns that, used judiciously, a loud voice can be an asset. Though a scene in which Sullivan is praised for shouting at another child may not sit well with sensitive readers, this book should be a boon for often-misunderstood exuberant children while modeling compassionate behavior for the adults who love them. Ages 4--8. Agents: Jodi Reamer and Steven Malk, Writers House. (Oct.)
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 1--2--Sullivan has a problem. He can't seem to say anything without shouting. His mom tries reminding him to be quieter for his baby sister, for his neighbor, and for his mom's own sanity. However, Sullivan can't keep his voice buried; he tries and tries, but it always comes out at high volume. At school, Sullivan is just as loud. He wishes he were quieter and starts to feel down on himself, until his mother tells him to try counting before speaking. Sullivan counts and it works. Then panic ensues for him as he wonders if his ability to express himself is gone. A minor emergency proves it is not; Sullivan finds his voice and saves the day. Sullivan is a relatable character. The book has a simplistic illustration style with limited backgrounds, focusing more on the characters. VERDICT Every child will recognize the all but uncontrollable urge Sullivan has to speak up, and how he struggles to do the right thing. An evocative slice of life, more liberating than therapeutic.--Katie Llera, Brunner Elem. Sch., Scotch Plains, NJ
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
The title page shows a little boy, with a huge smile, at an apartment window. With a page-turn we're inside his room and introduced: "This is Sullivan, who is always too loud. Not just sometimes. Not just often. Always." The illustration shows an enthusiastically waving child alongside a huge, colorful, friendly "HELLO!" There's not a trace of malice in Sullivan: he doesn't mean to wake his baby sister, annoy the downstairs neighbor, or prevent his mother from "hearing [her]self think." (And whose bright idea at school was it to give this kid percussion instruments?) Nevertheless, as we learn from the surprisingly self-aware Sullivan: "I have loudness. In my body. Bubbling up. Always." What's more, when he tries to stuff it down, it just comes out eventually, and louder than ever. Mama suggests the strategy of counting to three, with some success (the refrain: "It's a start"). And, satisfyingly, before story's end, Sullivan is able to put his big voice to good, helpful, and appropriate use. Biggs's (the Tinyville Town series; recently The Space Walk, rev. 1/20) trademark illustrations, too, are here put to good use, with his approachably bubbly shapes and speech balloons; his thoughtful use of color and judicious use of white space. Many people know -- or were or are -- a kid like Sullivan, and this nonjudgmental story about an exuberant, volumechallenged child could make an entertaining read-aLOUD. Elissa Gershowitz January/February 2021 p.85(c) Copyright 2021. 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 youngster tries to control his thunderous voice. Sullivan, with a bulbous head and extra-wide mouth reminiscent of the title character of David Shannon's No, David! (1998), can't stop yelling. His mom wearily mutters, "Sullivan, I can't hear myself think!" "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO HEAR THINKING!" Sullivan roars with his head thrown back and jaw seemingly unhinged. Boisterous Sullivan does feel remorse. He tries to tape pillows over his mouth as a solution, to no avail. The adults in Sullivan's life are patient; Sullivan just can't suppress his loud tendencies. "I have loudness. In my body. Bubbling up. Always," he explains. Biggs visually deepens the metaphor with greenish-blue bubbles starting in Sullivan's stomach, Sullivan's cheeks bulging as they increase, until suddenly he lets out "a giant Tarzan jungleYELL." Sullivan's mom suggests counting to three as a coping mechanism; it works, but luckily not all the time. Sometimes, as Sullivan learns, being loud is a good thing. Sullivan's noise is rendered as an erupting greenish, gaseous cloud spilling from his mouth, which can be visually misleading yet is also strangely appropriate. Sullivan and his family are White, but his school community is racially diverse. Some may give the side-eye to the repeated invocation of Tarzan the "jungle king" to characterize Sullivan's loudness, particularly when he uses it to bring a classmate of color into line, literally. (This book was reviewed digitally with 11-by-18-inch double-page spreads viewed at 37.5% of actual size.) Even the quietest of readers will see a bit of themselves in this raucous tot. (Picture book. 3-6) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
