Review by Booklist Review
There are all kinds of hats in the world, but Carol sports a particularly unusual one: an enormous toad on her head. It's a constant companion, but it's not the nicest companion. The demanding toad constantly shouts directions and harsh criticisms at Carol, and she tends to follow the hat's cues. After a pigeon swoops in and makes off with the saucy chapeau, Carol hardly knows what to do with herself. She tries making an imitation version using a pickle, but when that is also picked off, she realizes that she has an opportunity to discover who she is without the input of her toad. The illustrations (created via "watercolor, collage, gouache, matzo ball soup, colored pencils, and a toad") are rich in color and endless detail, and readers will find minutiae to delight in on every page. Alternately funny and sweetly edifying, and despite the toad-hat metaphors getting somewhat muddled, this still conveys a meaningful message of quieting inner critics and approaching the world, and oneself, with kindness.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Carol, a pale-skinned girl with a cloud of dark hair, round red spectacles, and striped overalls, has a unique hat. The hat is a toad, humorously portrayed as an amorphous blob, and it orders Carol around mercilessly: "No, no, that's no good," the toad opines, dismissing a painting Carol's working on, "How about me in very tall boots?" One day, the toad-hat is unexpectedly whisked away. Carol feels the loss of companionship, and assembles a substitute out of a pickle and eggs. Because the pickle-toad is less bossy, change comes quickly ("Carol painted all kinds of new things, not just toads"), but it's not until the pickle-toad is also spirited away that Carol discovers what was really missing in her journey of self-discovery: her own voice. Shapiro (Ooko) employs a wry narrative tone; her gleefully exuberant spreads, created with "watercolor, gouache, collage, matzo ball soup, colored pencils, and a toad," feature an inclusive group of city denizens, including a cast of varying skin tones and ages. With visual abundance and plenty of silliness, Shapiro's gentle tale compassionately follows Carol as she learns that she can eat what she wishes, make art, and speak courageously, all on her own. Ages 4--8. (May)
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Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 3--Carol, a white child with red spectacles, wears a bossy toad as a hat, and that toad tells her how to behave. When a pigeon swoops up the "hat," Carol constructs another of a deli pickle and egg slices for eyes. That "hat" also tells her how to behave, but nicely. When a pigeon takes that hat, too, Carol learns to listen to her own voice. At its core, this imaginative story is grounded in a specific and unexpected metaphor that shows how Carol learns to trust her own judgment. The pace of the story can feel offbeat at times. Abrupt surprises bring Carol closer to the realization that her opinions are important, but the symbolism of Carol's hats may be easily overlooked by readers who are engaged by the humor of these unusual elements and overall entertainment of the story. Illustrated with mixed media, every space is filled with stylized details that remain impressively consistent throughout the story. A free flowing, yet organized, organic color scheme surrounds Carol with a balance of earthy pinks, grays, greens, and beige, in high and low saturations, as she discovers her favorite hobbies, like painting and trying new food. VERDICT An unpredictable story, for the most thoughtful reader, about a young city girl discovering how to voice her own opinion.--Rachel Mulligan, Westampton, NJ
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
Don't let the pigeon snatch the hat! Alas, it seems young Carol is doomed to go bareheaded--for not only does a pigeon get the rude, demanding live toad that habitually rides atop her billowing brown locks as she rides her bicycle around town, but the ersatz replacement she concocts out of a pickle and two halves of a hard-boiled egg too! Carol's subsequent discovery that losing the bossy voice in (OK, on) her head leaves her free to go where she wants, say what she wants, and eat what and with whom she wants adds a message about the rewards of cultivating a voice of one's own…but if the toads are supposed to be metaphors they're obscure ones, and younger audiences at least will likely be satisfied just enjoying the silly bits. Large red eyeglasses make this White urbanite easy to spot as she wheels or paces through busy streets and crowded shops, past fellow city dwellers who are not only thoroughly diverse of race, age, and dress, but sport a wild profusion of headgear. Sharp-eyed viewers will also find plenty of business going on in the backgrounds and visible through nearly every window in the low-rise buildings. Shapiro may be channeling Mo Willems with the pigeon (and maybe Maira Kalman with the art), but this luxuriant, chapeau-centric appreciation of city living exudes a free-wheeling spirit of its own. (This book was reviewed digitally with 11-by-17-inch double-page spreads viewed at 77% of actual size.) A tip of the cap to this droll tribute to the freedom that comes from getting out from under the toad. (Picture book. 6-8) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
