Review by Booklist Review
In this touching story about grief, Bear mourns the death of his friend Bird, working his way from being paralyzed by sadness to reengaging with the world. The dark pencil illustrations carry the story, with the action contained in black oblongs on each page, looking in color and shape like Victorian mourning brooches or rings. Bear cannot forget Bird (and, as the story indicates at the end, should not), carrying Bird everywhere in a box and shutting himself up in a dark room for months. At last, Bear opens a window, lets in the light and fresh air, and ventures out, meeting Wildcat, who carries his own box: a violin case. Wildcat, getting Bear's need to talk about Bird, makes up a song celebrating Bird's and Bear's lives together, and they put Bird to rest in a tiny grave surrounded by blue flowers. Bear's world has expanded, and so have the illustrations, as he and Wildcat form a violin-and-tambourine band, touring the world. A deeply somber but ultimately uplifting read.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
When Bear's friend, a little bird, dies suddenly, Bear is bereft. He makes a berry-stained, flower-lined box and tucks the bird inside, where "his tiny black beak gleamed like onyx." Bear's carrying the box with him soon disturbs the other animals: "It may be hard," they say, "but you'll have to forget." Bear subsequently grieves alone behind a locked door until, one sunny day, he encounters a wildcat with a strange box of his own, who acknowledges Bear's loss. "This little bird must have been a very special friend of yours." Wildcat plays the violin from his box for Bear and the departed bird; as Bear listens, he remembers all he loved about his friend, and prepares himself to say goodbye. Elegant, understated spreads over scumbled black backdrops by Sakai divide the story, the first half dark with Bear's misery, the second half dawning with light. Hirano's fine translation renders Bear's transition in simple, natural-sounding English, and Yumoto's sensitive characterization makes the story a touchstone for talking about loss. Ages 5--9. (Feb.)
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Review by Horn Book Review
Young viewers may wonder why the cover art shows a bear and a bird, not a wildcat. On the title page, however, we see the bird lying on its back, and the first spread tells us that Bear's best friend, Bird, has died. Heartbroken, Bear fashions a small box for his friend, filling it with flower petals. All the forest animals tell him he needs to forget about Bird, but one day Bear meets a wildcat, the first animal to understand his grief. The wildcat plays his violin, and Bear is flooded with memories of his friend; afterward, Bear finally feels ready to bury Bird. "We'll always be friends, my little bird and I." This quiet, gently told story about death and friendship is well matched with soothing illustrations. Muted oval-shaped vignettes of various sizes feature black backgrounds, while the dusty lilac of the textural backgrounds signals tranquility. The only other color appears when Bear is remembering his friend: from then on, the judicious use of sky blue in the art feels like a sign of hope and understanding. In likely a nod to "Puss in Boots," the boot-clad wildcat here nicely epitomizes folklore's "animal as helper." This Japanese import (originally published in 2008) by Yumoto (The Friends, rev. 11/96) and illustrator Sakai (Emily's Balloon, rev. 7/06; Hannah's Night, rev. 7/14) will be a welcome addition to books about grieving. Jennifer M. BrabanderMarch/April 2023 p.59 (c) Copyright 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 single sympathetic soul can make all the difference. Bear's friend, a little bird, is dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatsoever about that. Yesterday he was alive, and now he is not. Bear constructs a lovely box, places the bird in it, and carries it everywhere, but the other animals disapprove. "It may be hard but you have to forget about him." Upon hearing this, Bear shuts himself away for days. When he emerges, he meets a wildcat, who hears his story, acknowledges that he must have loved his friend, and, by playing music, helps Bear to heal. This lyrical, unconventionally beautiful Japanese import reveals text both spare and superbly polished ("His downy feathers were the colour of coral and his tiny black beak gleamed like onyx"). Black images appear on the page as if they were scrubbed away from the surrounding beige, like relief paintings released from their claustrophobic borders. The sole other color, pink, is revealed only after Bear allows himself to remember the good times with his friend. As he finds himself able to let go, the pink infuses the flowers on a grave and in the field and a ribbon on a tambourine that Bear at last learns to play. (This book was reviewed digitally; this review has been updated for factual accuracy.) Quietly contemplative, mingling hope and healing, this is a book that will offer comfort to many. (Picture book. 4-7) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
