This is the curious story of Wallace Hoskins, who is small for his age and never seen without his large red fireman’s hat. His mother frets that he is too small, and she frets that he won’t take off the hat. Wallace, too, is concerned—he worries that his mother worries. Then one day Wallace starts putting on some inches, which makes everyone happy until it is discovered that only Wallace’s legs are growing and the rest of him remains the same. Mrs. Hoskins dashes off to Nanny Heppleweather, an old soul who had once offered assistance. Her advice is to take the fireman’s hat off, cut the toadstool she will find growing on Wallace’s head into ten pieces, and throw them into the sea. This is more than just a cautionary tale of what happens to those who don’t wash their hair; it’s a pleasing little introduction to absurdism. Some of Zarin’s witticisms may well fly right over the heads of younger listeners—“He felt that his destiny had been taken out of his hands. It was an odd feeling, but he was a child and it was not entirely new to him”—but they are deeply amusing and Matje’s sophisticated cartoons will keep children smiling. (Picture book. 4-8)
Pub Date: Sept. 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-7894-2523-8
Page Count: 32
Publisher: DK Publishing
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1999
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
There is something profoundly elemental going on in Smalls’s book: the capturing of a moment of unmediated joy. It’s not melodramatic, but just a Saturday in which an African-American father and son immerse themselves in each other’s company when the woman of the house is away. Putting first things first, they tidy up the house, with an unheralded sense of purpose motivating their actions: “Then we clean, clean, clean the windows,/wipe, wipe, wash them right./My dad shines in the windows’ light.” When their work is done, they head for the park for some batting practice, then to the movies where the boy gets to choose between films. After a snack, they work their way homeward, racing each other, doing a dance step or two, then “Dad takes my hand and slows down./I understand, and we slow down./It’s a long, long walk./We have a quiet talk and smile.” Smalls treats the material without pretense, leaving it guileless and thus accessible to readers. Hays’s artwork is wistful and idyllic, just as this day is for one small boy. (Picture book. 5-8)
Pub Date: April 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-316-79899-1
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 1999
Miranda’s book counts the monsters gathering at a birthday party, while a simple rhyming text keeps the tally and surveys the action: “Seven starved monsters are licking the dishes./Eight blow out candles and make birthday wishes.” The counting proceeds to ten, then by tens to fifty, then gradually returns to one, which makes the monster’s mother, a purple pin-headed octopus, very happy. The book is surprisingly effective due to Powell’s artwork; the color has texture and density, as if it were poured onto the page, but the real attention-getter is the singularity of every monster attendee. They are highly individual and, therefore, eminently countable. As the numbers start crawling upward, it is both fun and a challenge to try to recognize monsters who have appeared in previous pages, or to attempt to stay focused when counting the swirling or bunched creatures. The story has glints of humor, and in combination with the illustrations is a grand addition to the counting shelf. (Picture book. 3-8)
Pub Date: Aug. 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-15-201835-2
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Harcourt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1999
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