Cress Watercress

Gregory Maguire

Book - 2022

"When Papa doesn't return from a nocturnal honey-gathering expedition, Cress holds out hope, but her mother assumes the worst. It's a dangerous world for rabbits, after all. Mama moves what's left of the Watercress family to the basement unit of the Broken Arms, a run-down apartment oak with a suspect owl landlord, a nosy mouse super, a rowdy family of squirrels, and a pair of songbirds who broadcast everyone's business. Can a dead tree full of annoying neighbors, and no Papa, ever be home?"--

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Subjects
Genres
Animal fiction
Fantasy fiction
Novels
Published
Somerville, Massachusetts : Candlewick Press 2022.
Language
English
Main Author
Gregory Maguire (author)
Other Authors
David Litchfield (illustrator)
Edition
First edition
Physical Description
216 pages : color illustrations ; 24 cm
ISBN
9781536211009
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

After her father fails to return home from a foraging trip, Cress (a young rabbit) sadly moves out of the family burrow with her mom and baby brother, Kip. Their new home? The Broken Arms, a forest creatures' version of a rundown apartment building, housed in a hulking dead tree and presided over by a haughty owl landlord. Other residents include a lively family of squirrels, an old mouse couple, and a pair of songbirds. Maguire gives them all strongly defined characters, but however charming, they don't live charmed lives. Cress' mother is stressed over making rent (10 dead moths per day) and Kip's fragile health, while Cress refuses to accept that her father is gone for good, hates their tiny basement apartment, and longs to be seen more as a grown-up. A hungry fox, a sneaky snake, a blundering bear, and "human beanpoles" add drama and suspense to Cress' mini adventures, which are luminously depicted in Litchfield's color illustrations. Despite dark undertones, this novel of family and friendship will please fans of animal fantasies.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Maguire (Egg and Spoon) interweaves familiar elements of the animal story--a cozy family, a treacherous woodland, mourning, and growing pains--into a surreal episodic narrative. Grieving the loss of Papa Watercress, who "went out and didn't come back," rabbit child Cress, her little brother Kip, and their mother abandon their warren for new digs in "an apartment tree" known as the Broken Arms, where landlord Mr. Owl demands rent paid in moths. Upstairs are superintendent mice, boisterous squirrels, and songbirds alert for predators such as legendary snake "the Final Drainpipe" and fox Monsieur Reynard. Maguire channels multiple children's literary golden ages, with allusions to Beatrix Potter and Kenneth Grahame alongside nonsense notes of Norton Juster and Russell Hoban. Theatrical situations abound, as from conniving skunk Lady Agatha Cabbage--who wants to gain Cress as a "housemaid"--and her scene-stealing live-chinchilla stole. Super-saturated panels by Litchfield (The Bear and the Piano), which resemble backlit stained glass, picture the forest and its denizens in glowing hues and shadowy black. Suitable for sharing and reading aloud, this exuberant tale revels in the performative and the flavor of language. Ages 8--12. Author's agent: Moses Cardona, John Hawkins and Assoc. Illustrator's agent: Anne Moore Armstrong, Bright Agency. (Mar.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Horn Book Review

In this richly imagined woodland adventure, a grieving rabbit family -- Mama, Cress, and baby Kip (with stuffed carrot "Rotty" always in tow) -- must leave their comfortable warren to start over without their lost Papa. Their new life gets off to an inauspicious start. Mama loses the map to Mr. Owl's tree, the "Broken Arms," home of their tiny new basement flat; and they must avoid hungry foxes and a snake disturbingly (and hilariously) known as the "Final Drainpipe." Everyone the rabbits encounter -- from the outlandishly selfish skunk, Lady Agatha Cabbage, who wears a surly chinchilla around her neck, to the mix of residents in and around the Broken Arms -- is well drawn, making for a memorable cast of creatures who sometimes quarrel but always look out for any neighbor in need. Dark and shimmery full-color digital illustrations build on the text's singular atmosphere. While the moon waxes and wanes, Cress launches herself into precarious predicaments in every chapter as she cycles through waves of grief, irritability, kindness, loneliness, and bravery. As Mama observes: "But, my darling Cress, the moon will grow back. It comes and goes. Just like sorrow." The rabbits settle into the rhythm of their imperfect but warm new community as the narrative deftly coaxes readers to a place of empathy for each character, including those who initially seemed forbidding or unlikable. With its brisk plot, witty details, and thought-provoking concepts, this gloriously illustrated chapter book makes an ideal read-alone or family read-aloud. Julie Roach March/April 2022 p.(c) Copyright 2022. 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 young bunny copes with the death of her father and the move to a new home. Mama moves her children, Cress and baby brother Kip, one spring evening as the moon is in the sky. Their new home is in a dead, hollow oak tree called the Broken Arms; its ramshackle state reminds Cress of the Watercress family's loss. Natural dangers, including, most saliently, a snake nicknamed the Final Drainpipe and Monsieur Reynard the fox, feel more immediate here. As they settle in, there's a perfect seasoning of domesticity, adventure, and contained peril, as on the day Cress and Finian, from a neighboring squirrel family, are swept over a waterfall on a raft. Cress confronts--and charms--Tunk the Honeybear with aplomb, but then she and Finny are briefly held captive by an arrogant, pretentious skunk. Maguire's narrative offers wry puns, rich vocabulary, and entertaining dialogue, and Litchfield's glowing, slightly stylized, full-color illustrations present an enchanting, magical peek into this woodland world. Cress' personality is nicely realized as a child on the cusp of growing up as she deals with sorrow, crankily takes responsibility for Kip, and argues with her mother (who, like Little Women's Marmee, puts her own anger in check to step up for her children). The anthropomorphized world feels true to itself and to the animal natures inhabiting it. Warmhearted and utterly charming. (Animal fantasy. 7-11) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

1 The Bare Windows of Home Mama yanked down her homemade drapes and stuffed them into the carryall. The windows stared squarely out into the newness of how things were now. Mama said, "I think it is time." She pulled her apron strings tighter. She didn't look at her children. "Is everyone ready?" Cress shrugged. Her mouth was dry, her words locked silent. "You'll need to carry him, Cress," said Mama. "I have my arms full. Can you manage?" Kip was disagreeable, all sour milk on salty soap. "NO GO." "Don't fuss," said Mama. "This is hard enough. Be a good little bunny for Mama." Kip threw himself in the middle of the empty warren. Gone now, the rag carpet that had made the floor soft. When Kip kicked, he hurt his feet. He cried harder. Mama put down the map, the parcels tied in string, the carryall, the valise full of carrots. She picked up her little Kip. Since the rocking chair was gone, too, she rocked on her heels. "Why won't you settle down, cuddles?" asked Mama. "I don't know what to do with you." "He wants his stuffed carrot," said Cress. "Want ROTTY," said Kip. "I must have packed it and sent it ahead," said Mama. "No," said Cress. "It's stuck in the hood of his onesie. Look, Kip! Here's your carrot." "ROTTY," said Kip. There were more tears, and from more than one pair of eyes. "And now we're ready," said Mama. Kip went into the snuggly. Cress grabbed Mama's paw and held on tight. They left their home for the last time. No one bothered to lock the door or to look back at nobody waving goodbye. 2 Dinner by Moonlight The setting sun was a lumpy clementine in a net bag of string clouds. The air, so cool and damp. A few birds moaned in falling tones. "Where are we going?" asked Cress. "You'll see when we get there," said Mama crisply. Cress knew that was the end of talking for now. Kip, sucking on the tip of his stuffed carrot, fell silent. But Cress thought she heard him murmur, "Papa?" She couldn't bring herself to say, "No Papa," so she said, "Look, Kip. There's a little broken circle in the sky. Mama, is that the moon?" "You've seen the moon before," said Mama. "You know the moon." "I don't remember," said Cress. "You never let me go out at night." They didn't talk any more. The grass looked like dinner and then it tasted like dinner. Dinner by moonlight, thought Cress. Papa would love this. Papa would have loved this. 3 Where We're Going Mama had lost her map. On the other side of the water, the ducks slept. They were too far away to wake up for directions. Nearby, thorny branches tangled, a dark sword fight profiled against cliffs of silvery moon-cloud. The family froze when Monsieur Reynard came by with a mouthful of hen, but his jaws were busy. He couldn't bother with Mama and her children tonight. "We made it," said Cress as they hurried by, trying not to stare. "Just luck," said Mama. "The fox had already chosen his meal." "Do you think we should have helped that poor hen?" asked Cress. "She was too dead, I'm afraid," replied Mama. "Oh." Cress thought about it. "Did a fox get Papa?" "Hush your lips!" Mama glanced at the baby. But Kip was asleep, dreaming of dipping carrots in honey. Mama put her paw on Cress's shoulder. "We may never know what happened to Papa," she said. "But here we are, and the forest is home to more than one fox. So we must take care. If only I hadn't lost the map." "Do you know where we're going?" asked Cress. "Of course I know where we're going." Mama paused to stroke her whiskers and look around. "I just don't know the way." 4 Agatha Cabbage I wish I knew what I did with the map," said Mama for the third time that night. Cress said, "You left it on the floor when you were cuddling Kip." "Why didn't you pick it up if you saw it lying there?" asked Mama. "I wasn't in charge of the map," said Cress. "I can't be in charge of everything. I have the towels and the teaspoons. Not to mention Kip on my back." Cress didn't add that she had been too close to tears to speak. "You should have pointed out that I dropped it." Mama tutted. Cress readied for a sound scolding. However, just then, a figure crossed their path in the moonlight, striping the horizon with black and white. "Oh, my pearls and pistols. What do we have here? Humble country folk out for an evening stroll?" asked a lady skunk, peering through a lorgnette. "And far from home, by the look of your shabby luggage." "Good evening, madame," said Mama. "The little ones are out late," said the skunk. "I disapprove." "Oh, do you?" asked Mama blandly. "Well, it can't be helped tonight." "Not how I'd raise children, if I had any," replied the skunk. "But don't let me keep you. I'm off to the opera. Notice my lorgnette. Notice my chinchilla." Wrapped around the skunk's neck, the chinchilla shyly lifted her head and murmured, "Howdy-do." "Lady Agatha Cabbage is my name," said the skunk. She squinted through her eyepiece at Cress. "My, what a charming little girl you are. Little frou-frou, little bunnykins, would you like to become my lady's maid? My last maid ran off. Useless. It's so hard to keep good help. Do come, child. I need help." Cress was pretty brave but no way, no way. She pouted. "Oh, she couldn't possibly," said her mother. Lady Cabbage frowned and said, "I would give her sound training in manners, something you haven't managed to do yet." Cress pressed her face into her mother's apron strings and held her breath. "She's getting an education already," said Cress's mother. "She is homeschooled. Very well, I might add." Lady Cabbage sniffed. "What could you possibly teach her at home school?" "What home is," said her mother. She glanced about. "And where." The skunk pushed the point. "But where is your home?" "We were looking for a certain Mr. Owl who is said to have rooms to let," admitted Mama. "But we've lost our way." "Mr. Owl? I know where that old crankcase lives," said the skunk. "I can show you. There are some nasty spiderwebs on the path. I suppose the opera can wait." "You're too kind," said Cress's mother to Lady Cabbage. The chinchilla twisted her head and whispered to Cress, "She's not that kind. She doesn't even like opera. She just likes to dress up and parade about." "By the way," said Cress's mother, "a word to the wise. We just saw a fox go by with a mouthful of hen." "I am scared of no fox," replied the skunk. "I have a powerful cologne that drives predators wild. You'll be safe with me. Come along." "Just don't get on her stinky side," whispered the chinchilla. Excerpted from Cress Watercress by Gregory Maguire All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.