Eye Witnesses! They All Saw A CAT by Brendan Wenzel

A CAT WALKED THROUGH THE WORLD

WITH ITS WHISKERS, EARS, AND PAWS.

A cat is a cat is a cat, and no more than that?

To a child the cat is a soft, purring pet.

But to the dog the cat is perhaps something fun to chase, perhaps a foe with sharp claws to fear.

To the fish the cat is a blurry and worrisome dark shape that appears above the water. To the mouse the cat is a sharp-toothed monster whose little bell warns "Run and hide." But to the flea on the cat's back, he is a prairieland of fur to be probed. And to the honeybee, the cat is a collection of pixilated dots; to the earthworm underground he is only vibrations above--something not to be considered deeply.

AND THE SNAKE SAW THE CAT... AND THE SKUNK SAW THE CAT...

And what does the cat see when he regards his own reflection in the pond?

Brendan Wenzel's top-selling new book, They All Saw a Cat (Chronicle Books, 2016), probes the difference between looking and seeing, exploring the different ways the common cat is seen by different viewers. In lovely flowing illustrations set against a white field, reminiscent of Eric Carle's classic work, Wenzel's multi-media paintings hint at a deeper premise--that we all see what we see in varied ways. A work that can itself be seen in different ways, Wenzel's first picture book can be appreciated on several levels, a kaleidoscope of sensory experience that points up the power of point of view. Says Publishers Weekly, "A powerful, rhythmic juxtaposition between word and image... it's marvelous," and Kirkus Reviews adds "A solo debut for Wenzel, showcasing both technical chops and a philosophical bent."

Here, Kitty, Kitty! Lost and Found Cat by Doug Kuntz and Amy Shrodes

A few days earlier, Sura's family had gotten ready to leave. Since they could only bring what they could carry, they had packed just one bag full of food and water.

But Sura had decided that they could not leave without their beloved cat, Kunkush.

Sura's family made their way from the besieged town of Mosul in war-torn Iraq to the Turkish coast. Inside his straw carrier, Kunkush was a cooperative cat, and they managed to make their way onto the boat without anyone noticing their stowaway pet.

Sura prayed that the cat hidden in a small carrier would stay quiet. If the smuggler discovered Kunkush, he would make them pay a great deal more money.

The big white cat kept quiet through the short voyage, and the family waded ashore, with Sura's big brother clutching the cat carrier tightly. But when he reached safety, he put the basket down and went back into the water to help the rest of the family to shore.

And the frightened Kunkush pushed his way out of the basket carrier and quickly disappeared into the forest, running like a deer.

Sura's family and the other travelers called and searched for Kunkush, but he was not found. Finally, they had no choice but to push on with their group on a walk that carried them through Greece and Macedonia, on to Germany, and at last to Norway, where they would make their new home. It seemed that Sura would never see her beloved cat again.

But that was not the end of the story for Kunkush. Some of the Greek volunteers spotted a bedraggled and hungry white cat among the strays begging fishermen for scraps at the dock, and one of them, Amy, took him in and started searching for the little girl who had lost her cat. She knew she couldn't trace Sura's family alone, but she knew something she could do.

Amy's friend in the United States made a Facebook page which made Kunkush, now called Diias, (modern Greek for Zeus) famous. An English couple agreed to keep the cat safe for a while, and at last Sura saw his picture on the news in Norway and instantly recognized her cat. And in a Skype call to Sura's family, their lost cat recognized his famiy and they recognized him, and at long last, the reunion of Sura and Kunkush was arranged.

But at the airport Amy and Kunkush were stopped at the gate. An official declared that Amy's carrier was too small for a cat of his size.

"Why, that cat can't even turn around," he declared, closing the gate.

Kunkush turned around immediately--180 degrees!

Against all odds, there was a happy reunion for Sura and Kunkush in Norway after all, in Doug Kuntz's and Amy Shrodes,' Lost and Found Cat: The True Story of Kunkush's Incredible Journey (Crown Books, 2017). Among all the sad accounts of refugees fleeing the Middle East for Europe, this true story gives young readers who can scarcely imagine such a thing an understanding of the hardships of a journey which for refugees means leaving behind everything they love, a home, family, friends, and pets. But in this sweet modern miracle story of human kindness and reunion with a beloved pet, beautifully illustrated by Sue Cornelison. young readers can take away a hopeful look at the current story of war refugees, in which much is left behind, but not all the important things are lost.

Cat-alog Cat: Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World by Vicki Myron

It was the coldest dawn of the new year in Spencer, Iowa,--18 degrees below zero--when a library clerk heard a strange sound inside the book drop. "I think there's an animal in the drop box," she told Library Director Vicki Myron. Hoping for nothing more daunting than a chipmunk, Myron got down upon her knees to open the pull-down lid.

The first thing I felt was a blast of freezing air. Someone had jammed a book into the return slot, wedging it open. It was as cold in the box as it was outside; maybe colder, since the box was lined with metal. You could have kept frozen meat in there. I was still catching my breath when I saw the kitten.

It was huddled in the front left corner of the box, its head down, its legs tucked underneath it, trying to appear as small as possible. The books were piled haphazardly to the top of the box, partially hiding it from view. I lifted one gingerly for a better look. The kitten looked up at me, slowly and sadly. Then it lowered its head and sank down into its hole. It wasn't trying to appear tough. It wasn't trying to hide. I don't even think it was scared. It was just hoping to be saved.

In the kind hands of the staff, the rescued kitten amazingly survived its cold introduction into the world of the Spencer Public Library and grew into a glowing ginger tom endowed with more than the usual measure of mellowness peculiar to his type. Christened "Dewey," for Melvil Dewey of Dewey Decimal System fame, (formally named "Dewey Readmore Books") in a "name-the-cat" contest, Dewey's protector coaxed the reluctant library board into allowing him to become the official Spencer Library cat.

It was 1988, and Spencer, Iowa, needed Dewey. It was the time of "Farm Aid," when half the local farmers were forced off their land by an array of market conditions. Vicki Myron needed Dewey, too. A novice head librarian without a graduate degree, she had bravely talked her way into the position with a promise to get credentialed, despite the fact that the closest accredited graduate school was five hours away, and despite the fact that she was a single mother already stretched near her limits. But Dewey took to life in the library like a fish to water, and his ability to charm and adore a wide range of patrons--from severely handicapped children to resistant businessmen--won the library new fame and many new users in the region.

Like all good cats, Dewey was funny. He loved napping in boxes, even working his fluffy body into a half-full Kleenex box, hind feet first, then front feet, and finally wedging his body inside with only his tail and head visible. He learned how to circumnavigate the entire library from aloft, climbing graduated book shelves to leap to the top of the hanging fluorescent light panels and deftly hopping from one to another. A long-haired cat, he was obviously embarrassed by his substantial hairballs, which he tried dutifully to hide inconspicuously. He shared yogurt and Arby's beef and cheddar sandwiches with the staff, and was not above filching the fillings from their sandwiches if the diners weren't vigilant.

Dewey also had that uncanny ability of some cats to know exactly how and where he was needed. He was always at the front door at 7:00 a.m., waiting and "waving" his front paws to meet Myron each morning. He positioned himself there at nine o'clock when the library opened to greet the early patrons one by one. He did rounds with the staff, riding on his favorite book truck as the staff shelved returned books each afternoon, and he attended all committee meetings, jumping up and circling the conference table to greet each member and choosing selected laps to grace with his gorgeously furry self and welcome purr. When Myron slaved over her library school papers on the library's one computer late at night, he always knew when she needed a quick "hide and seek" break among the book shelves to restore her soul. At story time he joined the preschoolers, who were told that Dewey might choose their laps if they were quiet and still, and seemed always to know which one needed special attention, and he even brought forth the first smile of a severely handicapped child who could not speak or move to stroke him when he unfailingly chose her lap when she arrived.

Myron called him her "publicity director," with good reason. Dewey, it seemed, could rise to any occasion. One day a family with a young girl arrived after a long, long drive made to see the now-famous library cat. The little girl had a wrapped present for Dewey, a toy mouse. Now Myron knew that Dewey would only deign to play with cat toys if they contained catnip, and she feared that the child was going to be sadly disappointed in his reaction:

Dewey was asleep in his new fake-fur-lined bed. As I woke him, I tried a little mental telepathy: "Please, Dewey, please! This one's important." He was so tired, he barely opened his eyes. The father sat down and put both Dewey and the girl on his lap. Dewey immediately snuggled up against her.

They sat like that for a minute or two. Finally the girl showed him the present she had brought, with its carefully tied ribbon and bow. Dewey perked up, but I could tell he was still tired. "Come on, Dewey," I thought. "Snap out of it!" The girl unwrapped the gift, and sure enough, it was a plain toy mouse, no catnip in sight. My heart sank. This was going to be a disaster.

The girl dangled the mouse in front of Dewey's sleepy eyes to get his attention. Then she delicately tossed it a few feet away. As soon as it hit the ground, Dewey jumped on it. He chased that toy; he threw it in the air; he batted it with his paws. Dewey gave that mouse every ounce of energy he had. The girl giggled with delight. She had come hundreds of miles to see a cat, and she was not disappointed.

Why did I ever worry about Dewey? He always came through.

Dewey did. From a town favorite to a state phenom to a nationally lionized lbrary cat, as his fame spread Dewey charmed them all--newspaper reporters, magazine writers, radio and television hosts. During the 19 years he lived in the small-town library in Spencer, he grew to be a genuine cat celebrity. When he died in 2005, his obit appeared in the New York Times.

But his truest obituary is Vicki Myron's.

The most important thing is having someone there to scoop you up, to hold you tight, and tell you everything is all right.

For years I thought I had done that for Dewey.

But that's only a sliver of the truth. The real truth is that for all those years, on the hard days, the good days, and all the unremembered days that make up the pages of the real book of our lives, Dewey was holding me.

He's still holding me now. So thank you, Dewey. Thank you. Wherever you are.

In Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World Vicki Myron skillfully weaves Dewey's story into the story of her own life and that of her small town. An account of an ordinary, yet extraordinary cat and woman and library and place, this is a wonderful memoir, a testament to the joy at the heart of life.

Cat-alog Cat: Dewey: There's a Cat in the Library by Vicki Myron and Brett Witter

Every night people left books in return box of library in the small town of Spencer, Iowa. Funny books, big books, truck books, pig books.--they left them all.

But one night
on the coldest night of the year
someone left a strange surprise...
a tiny kitten.

After a warming bath, the dirty, brown, half-frozen kitten emerges with beautiful fluffy orange fur and a heartwarming purr.

"I'm going to keep you," said Librarian Vicki. "I already love you.

We'll name you Dewey Readmore Books. You can live here and be the library cat."

But Dewey is just a kitten, and kittens really only know how to play. He catnaps on the newspapers in the periodical collection, rides the book cart while the clerks shelve the day's returns, and pushes any pens he can find off tables and desks. He climbs and rummages in open drawers and tries to escape from little boys who rub his fur the wrong way. He delights the story hour circle with a visit, and even lets babies touch his tender ears. It is all just great fun for a curious kitten.

But then Dewey has a moment of truth.

"The library is a wonderful place," Dewey said. "But I'm tired of being pulled and carried around upside down. I'm not just a cat in the library. I am a library cat, and I'm ninety-two percent convinced that that is the reason I'm around.

I'm going to do it," said Dewey. "I'm going to help people."

And then one day he discovers his true powers. Dewey has just crammed himself sleepily into a tiny box, his favorite napping place, when he hears a sound that wakes him right back up.

He heard a heavy sigh.

He saw a little girl, a sad little girl, on the other side of the library, reading all by herself.

He climbed up close and looked at her. She looked the other way. He sniffed her hand. She wouldn't play. He knocked her mittens to the floor. She let them stay.

Then Dewey had his best idea yet. "Silly always works!" he thought.

Dewey wiggles inside the little girl's purple jacket and sticks his head out of the sleeve. The little girl can't help giggling.

"You look like a fuzzy hot dog in a purple bun! I love you, Dewey Readmore Books."

"This is it," Dewey thought, as he nestled into her lap and began to purr. "I'm a real library cat now."

Author Vicki Myron has cut the opening chapters of her best-selling Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World down to picture-book size for the youngest readers, and her just-published Dewey: There's a Cat in the Library!, illustrated glowingly with Steve James' endearingly realistic art, is a wonderful introduction to this unforgettable real-life character. Although her best-selling memoir was aimed at adults, children who have seen this newest book will enjoy short readings from the longer book and will doubtless look forward to the next in the picture-book exploits of this world-famous feline.

Getting to Know You! Hello Hello by Brendan Wenzel

HELLO HELLO

It begins quietly, with black and white--a white cat and a black cat.

And then there are those who are black and white--a panda and a zebra.

HELLO COLOR.  HELLO BRIGHT

Animals of varied hues and shades and markings follow--striped tigers and lizards, spotted leopards and spotted leopard fish.

HELLO GIANT HELLO NOT

Whopper whales and itsy bitsy chameleons follow.

In Brendan Wenzel's vivid and vivacious new picture book, Hello Hello (Chronicle Books, 2018), animals are in focus in all their glorious varieties. They come in a splendid array of shapes and sounds--tall and short, bulbous and sleek, with roars, peeps, chirps, and cheeps. They are strange as the platypus and pangolin, wild as narwhals and wolves, showy as peacocks and birds of paradise, all depicted in colors that put the rainbow to shame.

From aardvark to Atlantic sailfish, cassowary to kingfisher, they parade across the pages in all their splendor and diversity in artist Brendan Wenzel's stunning illustrations which dazzle the eye and nourish the mind, introducing the physical variety and names of many less-than-familiar creatures.

A Caldecott Honor Award winner for his They All Saw a Cat (Hardback) - 2016 Edition (see review here) Wenzel is an illustrator whose eye-candy art is evocative of that of Steve Jenkins and Eric Carle, and like Jenkins and Carle, the art serves his premise seamlessly, backed up by an informational glossary which describes the animals in order of appearance and ranks them as vulnerable, near threatened, or endangered. A first purchase for libraries, this is a picture book that hits all the marks for substance and kid appeal, useful for zoo trip day or Earth Day, or for any animal unit study.

Blindsided! A Blind Guide to Normal by Beth Vrabel

"Seriously, though, guys. Try to hold it together without me. Someone will need to keep an eye out the newbies.

"Shall I save the pupil for you?" said Alice, slicing the cake.

"Absolutely," I grinned and passed out slices of my giant farewell eyeball cake.

"I can't help it," I said. "I'm just so... I can't wait for next year, to get back to normal. Be surrounded by normal--" I bit off the stupid thing I was going to say, but it was too late. Alice's face flushed again. Man, I can be such a jerk sometimes.

It should have hit me then--being celebrated like a departing rock star. Because here's the joke for you. Where can a cocky, one-eyed ginger be the coolest cat around?

Punchline: Only at a school for the blind.

And maybe not even there, given the way he's bombed his farewell address to his classmates. With one artificial eye (Artie for short) and partial sight in the other, Richie Ryder Raymond hopes that his talent for the quick quip will see him through his transfer from Addison School for the Blind to a normal, that is, regular eighth grade class at Papuaville Middle, home of the Fighting Guinea Pigs. With a name like that, the comic possibilities seem endless.

But it doesn't begin well, as he squints his way through the halls, trying to see the room numbers and maybe spot the gorgeous girl next door.

Yep. Room 206! I guess I was being too self-congratulatory to notice the love of my life was standing beside me. I ran right into Jocelyn. She fell backward into the boy behind her.

"Hey!" "Watch where you're going!" a guy barked. "I don't think he saw me," said Jocelyn. "Of course, he saw you!" the guy said. He put his arm around her.

"No, man, I didn't!" The guy jerked his chin at me. He had brilliant green eyes and the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen on a boy. I blurted out. "Do you have to brush your eyelashes? Because they are mega, mega long!"

"You're a freak!" Lash Boy hissed as everyone laughed. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

A hand clamped down on my shoulder and Lash boy's. Oh, great. Perfect way to meet my homeroom teacher.

"I am ashamed of how you would treat a differently-abled student!" she yelled at Lash Boy.

Ryder is outed as "differently abled," and although he tries to explain what happened, his teacher tells Lash Boy (a.k.a., Jocelyn's boyfriend Max) that she's calling his parents. Ryder's hopes of slipping in under the radar are dashed, and now Max, the class golden boy, will have it in for him forever, which is not good, given that Ryder already has a crush on Jocelyn.

And that's just the beginning of his problem with being "normal." Living for the year with Gramps while his dad is doing research in Alaska is not easy. Gramps seems stuck in the 1970s, still grieving over the death of his wife at the birth of Ryder's dad. Her weird monument, a stone horse, stands in the middle of the front yard, decorated for all seasons and holidays, and his little house is decorated in stereotypical seventies style. Gramps plays disco constantly in his old Oldsmobile, and talks about Ryder's grandmother as if she's still alive. Ryder's mom must find that a bit creepy, too, because she takes to working unusually long hours to avoid being there whenever she can.

But Jocelyn lives next door, and Ryder soon learns that her little brother died in a fire and that she was rescued by Max when they were eight years old. Adding that to the fact that Max is considered a hero, a real Mr. Nice Guy at school, Ryder figures his chances with Jocelyn are dimmer than his vision.

And Ryder’s hopes of getting to normal don’t grow any brighter when he and Gramps walk into an argument outside Home Depot, where Max is fund-raising for a project for grief counseling.

Gramps and I were each downing our second hot dogs when the fight began. I heard “Max, I don’t want to talk about this!” all but screamed by Jocelyn. “I’m so sick of your nonstop gotta-help-everyone-all-the-time crap.”

“Crap?” Max said, pleading. “Come on, Jocelyn. It’s been years. Your brother would want us to keep other kids from going through what we.... His voice went thick with passion. “Just let yourself remember!”

I punched Max Waters in the face.

And then Max gets even by tripping Ryder in the cafeteria. Artie the artificial eye pops out, skitters across the floor, followed by retreating girls screeching and guys kicking it around the room. And for the punchline, at first Ryder finds that he’s got no joke, nothing.

Artie comes to rest in front of his homeroom teacher, Miss Singer, who picks it up, her pity radiating from her, and looks around for Ryder.

I slammed a big old NOPE sign on the pain stew in my gut. I reached for my eye. I climbed on top of a chair. Cupping Artie in my hand, I rubbed it on the hem of my shirt. I slowly, slowly, slowly popped the eye back into place.

Then, arms out, like this was all a huge theatrical joke, I bowed–-three times in fact.

It seems that nobody, not Gramps, or Mom and Dad, or Max and Jocelyn, nobody is really normal. They all have things they don’t want to think about. But sometimes you have to look at those things with both eyes open. In her sequel to A Blind Guide to Stinkville, the forthcoming A Blind Guide to
Normal (Sky Pony Press, 2016), Ryder finds that maybe normal is accepting a new normal that includes anger, sadness, and loss. And they’re all okay. With a moving cathartic conclusion, Vrabel fashions a coming-of-age story that middle readers will never forget.

Ryder's honest first person voice is funny, yet poignant, one that gets the reader right inside him, seeing the world through his eye. Each character has a way to hide, something inside he or she try to cover up and forget. Jocelyn has her scars hidden under long sleeves, the outward reminders of her guilt for her little brother's death, Max has his own secret of starting that fatal fire, and Ryder's parents have their own fears that his cancer might return. Gramps has his grief for his wife and the signs of her existence he can't bear to remove from his life--all things that make them different, yet make them normal human beings. Says School Library Journal, "A sweet, thoughtful, and funny read--a heartfelt tale without the typical saccharine coating."

Like a Rock! A Stone Sat Still by Brendan Wenzel

A STONE SAT STILL

AND IT WAS AS IT WAS
WHERE IT WAS IN THE WORLD.

A stone is just a rock, right?

It's always the same, right?

Yes, and no. To a chipmunk trying to chew into a nut in the early dawn, it's dark. To an owl in the moonlight, it is bright.

To a snail, its surface is rough. To a porcupine, it feels so smooth!

The stone can be green with moss or red with flowers.

To a struggling little bug, it's a hill..., but to a moseying moose...

...THE STONE WAS A PEBBLE.

For an otter, it's his kitchen table, and for a a royal lynx....

... THE STONE WAS A THRONE.

And when the waters began to rise around it...

... THE STONE WAS AN ISLAND.

And even as it is swallowed by the waves, but it is still there, in Brendal Wenzel's just published A Stone Sat Still: (Environmental and Nature Picture Book for Kids, Perspective Book for Preschool and Kindergarten, Award Winning Illustrator) (Chronicle Books, 2019). Author Wenzel's landmark stone seems timeless, but as he shows in his marvelously lyrical illustrations, each viewer sees it with a different perspective. Life changes and swirls all around it, as it too changes in its time. Wenzel's soft, muted and layered illustrations suggest the passage of time as viewed by an unseen observer, the reader, and an object which seems timeless, is nevertheless revealed to be in time as well."Profound and poetic." writes The New York Times Book Review.

Brendan Wenzel is also the author of the Caldecott Honor Book, They All Saw A Cat (Cat Books for Kids, Beginning Reading Books, Preschool Prep Books). (Read my review here.)

Between the Dark and the Light: Ask the Dark by Henry Turner

I stopped.

A boy lay on the bank of the stream. He was naked, that boy, 'cept one shoe, with his body on the sand and rocks but his head partways in the water, his hair waving like weeds in the stream. I saw his face, all covered with cuts and blood.

I seen a piece of paper all red and bright, stuck to his dead ass. I bent over and snatched it up. I knew I couldn't just throw it over once I touched it, so I put it in my pocket.

Billy Zeets can't sleep. His dad's hurt, can't work, and their house is being foreclosed, and for some reason the dead, dark of night calls Billy, fitting his mood, and he wanders the streets and backyards and woods while the town sleeps. But when Billy finds the mutilated body of one of the boys in his town who have gone missing, Billy knows that someone else is using the night for darker purposes.

Billy is determined to find a way to make money to help his father, but he's just come out of a wild period, vandalizing and petty-thievery, and he's not high on anyone's hiring list. Occasionally working with Richie, a town n'eer-do-well who pays Billy to help load abandoned scrap metal into his pickup for sale, Billy is tempted to do a little shady junking himself, and on one nighttime expedition, he scales a tree up onto a roof and explores some promising storage boxes in the attic of Miss Gurpy, a once-well-to-do recluse, and finds one box filled with jewelry and vows to come back with a bag to carry it away.

Then Billy finds he's not the only one who knows what's in those boxes.

Coming into the room, I'd shut the door behind me. So what I done was step back maybe a yard, one big swooping step, to where I'd be behind the door if it opened. And all the while I was hearing somebody walking through the house. The footsteps stopped, and then they came on again, toward me. Whoever it was just come in the room and stood there.

Then I heard some shuffling and a light came on. Flashlight was that new kind that only shines where you point it. I don't think I breathed at all. I just stood there, three feet behind him.

All I could think was, If he turns, I'm caught.

'Course, I didn't know then who this fucker was, and that if he turned I was dead.

But working with Richie in a different house, Billy sees those same boxes, and something else. A sack of cement with a piece missing from the label, and Billy knows where that missing piece is--in his wallet where he'd saved it.

A little piece of torn red paper.

On my knees I went over to it, scuffing crost the floor, and where a piece was torn off the bag, I fit the piece.

It fit perfectly.

Now Billy thinks he knows who has been torturing and killing those boys in his town. And then he realizes that the murderer knows who he is and what he knows, too.

Henry Turner's Ask the Dark (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Clarion Books, 2015). is a slow-building cat-and-mouse thriller that is as dark as its setting, taking place mostly in the dark of night and among the dark secrets of his small town. Billy is an unlikely hero, a seeming loser, but dogged and ultimately possessed of great moral courage as he stalks his psychopathic stalker to a climax in a dank cellar that will leave young adult readers breathless. With rough talk for which he often begs "Skuze my language," a protagonist from Hardtimesville who proves that despite it all, Billy Zeets is a winner. Fans of teen suspense thrillers will take to this one, set on the dark side of a leafy little town where there be monsters as dreadful as any dragons.

What Goes Up Doesn't Come Down! A Little Stuck by Oliver Jeffers

Dang! Wouldn't you know it! Floyd goes out to fly his new kite, and of course it heads straight for a tree, where it is now...

STUCK.

Floyd tries to knock it loose by throwing one shoe. That shoe gets STUCK. He throws the other shoe. DITTO. He throws his cat into the tree, and of course the cat can't even get herself down. You'd think Floyd would see the futility of his present solution, but he doesn't.

In turn he throws a duck, a chair, a bike, a car, and an orangutan. And no, the orangutan doesn't fly the kite himself or even throw all Floyd's stuff down like those nice monkeys in the classic Caps for Sale: A Tale of a Peddler Some Monkeys and Their Monkey Business).  So Floyd follows up by heaving more stuff into the tree: a rhino, a truck, a whale and, you know, whatever else is handy, but they all remain securely STUCK. It's getting dark and Floyd needs to come up with a new tactic. He fetches a saw... and ... and... tosses it into the tree, too! The tree is turning into an veritable vertical trash heap. Now what?

Board books must be booming, because noted children's authors and illustrators are rushing to abridge their full-fledged picture books into board-bound editions, and Oliver Jeffers' 2011 award-winning Stuck, ((Read my unabridged review here) already a nearly wordless and visually-based story, lends itself awesomely to an abridged edition, with a new title in which Jeffers engages in a cute bit of wordplay, A Little Stuck (Philomel Books, 2017). Thanks to Jeffers' visually narrative artistic style, this mini-version loses nothing in the translation to a smaller, tot-friendly format. Still droll, with offbeat dry wit and and sly sight gags, this new edition is a mighty mini.

The Mersey Beat Boys: Fab Four Friends: The Boys Who Became the Beatles by Susanna Reich

THAT SPRING BRIAN EPSTEIN KNOCKED ON THE DOOR OF EVERY RECORD COMPANY IN LONDON. THE ANSWER WAS ALWAYS THE SAME--NO ONE WANTED A BUNCH OF SCOUSERS FROM GRIMY OLD LIVERPOOL.

"GUITAR GROUPS ARE ON THE WAY OUT," THE BOYS WERE TOLD.

THEN THE BOYS RECEIVED A TELEGRAM. ONE LAST RECORD PRODUCER WAS WILLING TO HEAR THEM PLAY.

That record producer was George Martin, and the rest is history.

Fabulous fame didn't exactly seem to be a likely fate for the four youngsters who grew up in the bombed-scarred old port city of Liverpool, a bit down at the heels in the austerity of post-war days. Growing up as working-class lads, they had one thing in common, a strong desire to make music. Only Paul McCartney's family was musical and encouraged him, but somehow John Lennon got his hands on a guitar, formed a scruffy skiffle band, and kept banging away at the guitar.

SOME OF THE BOYS WERE READY TO QUIT. NOT JOHN. NOT WHEN THERE WAS ONE MORE GIG COMING UP--THE ST. PETER'S CHURCH FAIR.

PAUL MCCARTNEY HOPED HE'D MEET SOME GIRLS AT THE CHURCH FAIR. BUT WHO WAS THIS BLOKE IN THE BAND, MAKING UP NEW WORDS TO "BE-BOP-A-LULU?"

John met Paul and liked the way he sang and played, and even though they didn't know it, their fate was serendipitously sealed that day. Soon Paul introduced John to his younger friend, George. George knew all the good chords, major and minor, on his guitar, and John quickly saw new possibilities of making music with the two of them. The boys shared a feeling for the American music that was flooding their homeland, with its amalgam of blues, rhythm and blues, jazz, country music, folk songs, and pop tunes, and they tried to sound like their favorites--Buddy Holly's mid-America proto-rockabilly, Little Richard's wailing Southern rooted R and B, Motown's sophisticated sound, and of course the early Elvis.

But the thing was, they were Brit lads, and they couldn't quite sound like the American bands. But what these four fortunate friends sounded like was something different, maybe better, and just right for the times. Teens were growing prosperous enough to buy stacks of 45s, and kids wanted their own music to dance to. Marrying that early rock 'n' roll sound to George's subtle new harmonies, John and Paul's memorable melodies with a feel for the pop tune, and adding Ringo's backbeat to the mix, the Fab Four were ready for fame.

Susanna Reich's forthcoming Fab Four Friends: The Boys Who Became the Beatles (Henry Holt and Company, 2015) introduces the fab four one at a time, John, Paul, George, and lastly Ringo, as children and young teens, revealing the individual experiences that made them a unique group and the seeming inevitability of their future when they finally come together. The evocative paintings by notable artist Adam Gustavson capture the period and the energy and optimism of the young four before they were fab. Author Reich also adds impressive Beatle backmatter--an author's note, glossary of Liverpudlian lingo, notes that include many quotations by and about the boys, and a substantial bibliography of books, articles, and web sites.

School Library Journal says this one is "a gorgeous love letter to an unforgettable band," and Kirkus Reviews calls it "a grand and archetypal tale.... the first steps on the long and winding road."

See also Susanna Reich's celebrated previous picture biography, Minette's Feast: The Delicious Story of Julia Child and Her Cat. (Read review here.)

Kid Sleuth at Camp: Cam Jansen and the Summer Camp Mysteries by David A. Adler

As fans of the girl sleuth might expect, kid detective Cam Jansen and her co-gumshoe Eric Shelton have hardly arrived at Camp Eagle Lake when Jennifer, nicknamed "Cam" for her camera-like photographic memory, finds herself engaged in a bit of impromptu detecting. It seems that most of the campers' parents spotted a blue mailbox look-alike with a sign asking parents to use the envelopes provided to drop campers' spending money into the box for safekeeping. Strangely, the camp director knows nothing of such a box, and when the disturbed parents hurry back to where the large metal box was posted, they find it gone, along with thousands of dollars of campers' money deposited by their thoughtful parents.

Eric is sure that Cam's famous memory can come up with a clue, and after questioning the staff, other campers, their parents, and the camp gatekeeper Barry, Cam winnows the suspects down to the driver of a blue car arriving suspiciously with no kids aboard. Cam searches her memory and--CLICK!--up comes the memory of the suspect's blue car and its license plate number! Cam is a camp hero before she even meets her grateful bunk mates.

Since this edition is a "Super Special," there are still two more cases to follow--"It's a Raid," and "The Basketball Mystery." In the first, Cam and her bunkies return from lunch to find their cabin trashed, but all her picture-perfect memories show are a neat bunk house before and a messy one after the raid. Still, Cam and Eric prove that they can collect the clues and sleuth out the perpetrator the old fashioned way to solve the case.

Then, on the next to the last day of camp, the kids discover that someone has swiped all the sports equipment, the sport director's computer, and the trophies and prizes for the final playoffs. Barry reports that no one has left the camp in a vehicle, so the young detectives know that the swag must be stashed somewhere inside the camp grounds. Since all she saw was the crime scene after the gear was gone, Cam's memory bank has a big NOTHING on this one, but she does notice the camp cat, Kitty, suspiciously licking the padlock for the shed. Collecting all the clues leads Cam to the camp kitchen where a walk-in freezer seems the likely location of the loot. CLICK! she solves the last mystery just in time to restore the equipment for the final playoffs at Camp Eagle Lake. It's no surprise that Cam Jansen tops off the celebration by winning Camp Eagle Lake's first-ever Best Detective Award.

With summer camps just around the corner, Cam Jansen & the Summer Camp Mysteries (Cam Jansen Adventure) is right on time for beginning chapter book sleuths to kick off their summer's fun. Cam Jansen is into her twenty-sixth year as a preteen sleuth, and her fast-paced mysteries written at third-grade level are a good fit for early elementary readers.

Wonderful Wild Kitty! Moto and Me: My Year As a Wildcat's Foster Mom by Suzu Eszterhas

As a child, I used to tell my mom that one day I would live in a tent in Africa. So it was a dream come true when I headed to the Masai Mara, a wildlife reserve in Kenya, to photograph animals.

Suzi Eszterhas found her dream up close and personal, living with all kinds of wildlife--elephants, hippos, lions, and giraffes--just outside her tent flap, just as she'd hoped. But she never expected to mother a wildcat, Africa's amazing serval cat.

Only two weeks old, little Moto found himself left alone on a road in Kenya as his mother was trying to move her litter away from a grass fire, and Suzi volunteered to be Moto's foster mom.

Anyone who has fostered domestic kittens knows that it is a big job. Kittens cry just like human babies and must be fed every few hours. They require washing and stroking similar to that of their mothers to survive. Moto especially loved being cleaned with an old brush, rough like his mother's tongue. Suzi bottle-fed him a formula of milk, fish oil, eggs, and vitamins day and night. She was busy, but Moto thrived, and soon he was purring when Suzi held him.

Like regular domestic cats, serval kittens play with toys, and Suzi gave Moto a plush duck named Mr. Ducky. He slept with it, purred for it, but as he grew, he pounced on it, wrestled with it, and carried it around in his mouth. By the time he was one month old, he was ready to explore outside. Moto also learned to enjoy rides in Suzi's jeep, watching the other animals from behind the safety of the glass windows.

Moto was shy but curious. He smelled the grass, listened to the birdcalls, and watched everything with big, wide-open eyes. The first times, we wold walk only a few feet before Moto retreated back into the tent, exhausted by his big adventure. If a noise frightened him or he lost sight of me, Moto would call out. His call was like a short, loud meow. I'd return his call by saying, "Moto," and he would call back. Hearing Moto call for me felt good. I knew I was creating a strong bond with him.

But Suzi was a working photographer, so she fashioned a cloth pouch so that she could carry him around as she shot photos outside. At first he slept, but soon the curious kitten learned to poke his head out and see what "Mom" was doing, and it was not long before he began to explore the world outside the tent. Suzi introduced pureed chicken to his formula and then began to introduce solid food to little Moto. It was a big event when he was fed his first mouse, and in a few weeks, he was learning to catch his own dinner. Suzi even helped him learn to catch fish.

To become a hunter, Moto had to explore the bush. Sometimes he would disappear for hours. He roamed freely around camp, practicing stalking, running, pouncing. Learning how to hunt was a huge step in being able to take care of himself. I was very proud.

Moto also had to learn to protect himself, mostly from the larger predators--leopards, lions, wild dogs--in the bush, and he learned to hide invisibly, his spotted gold coat camouflaging him in the tall grass, and to climb high beyond reach in the trees with his now long and powerful claws.

By the time Moto was eight months old, he was nearly the size of an adult serval. Like a wild serval, Moto was active at dawn, dusk, and nighttime and slept most of the day. Moto didn't need much from me anymore.

Despite their familiar kittenish look as babies, an adult serval cat is an impressive animal, weighing up to forty pounds, able to run like a cheetah and use their unusually long hind legs to leap eight feet straight up to capture birds on the wing. Suzi gradually saw less and less of Moto, and she was both sad and glad that he was now independent.

Eszterhas' Moto and Me: My Year as a Wildcat's Foster Mom (Owlkids Books, 2017) is a true story of that will fascinate young readers who may themselves dream of studying wildlife one day. Illustrated lavishly with the author's own photographs, this slim book gives middle readers much information (including an appendix, All About Servals) and what's more, a satisfying vicarious experience of raising a wildcat kitten and watching him return successfully to the wild. Fans of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt's Scientists in the Field series and National Geographics' Baby Animal series will find this new one from Owlkids Books a welcome addition to their nature reading. For kids who love animals, share this one with Owlkids' wonderful Koala Hospital (Wildlife Rescue) (see review here.)

Says Booklist, "Photos of Moto, both as a fluffy-faced baby and an active, handsome adult, are the clear scene-stealers, but plenty of interesting facts on servals are included. More than one reader will consider following Eszterhas' footsteps."

Sisters, Sisters! Ten Rules for Living with My Sister by Ann M. Martin

Half and hour ago my sister locked me out of her room. Then she opened her door long enough to hang this sign on it:

NO PEARL

Then she closed the door again. It was the sixth time Lexie had hung the NO PEARL sign that month.

Lexie is thirteen. She has a lot going for her--a neat room, great grades, lots of friends, many interests, from violin to soccer to knitting, a boyfriend, a bra, and her own key and cell phone. Inveterate list-maker Pearl charts her sister's qualities in a table along with her own and sees that Lexie has a point in finding her company uninteresting at best. Lexie is nine, a reluctant student; her room is a mess; she has no friends except Justine, a first grader who lives down the hall. Her only notable interest is collecting stuffed animals, and she is forced to list her cat Bitey as her boyfriend.

Pearl looks at her list ruefully, but is clueless at what to do with her uninspiring life. Spying on Lexie and struggling to overhear her phone conversations through the bathroom wall are the only exciting activities she can come up with, and Lexie understandably retreats to her room behind her NO PEARL sign and her locked door.

But then Grandaddy Bo has a bad fall and it becomes evident that he's not going to be able to continue to live alone out in New Jersey. As he moves in to Pearl's room, Lexie and Pearl suddenly find themselves unwilling roommates, sharing bunk beds, a small closet and bureau, and more time together than Lexie thinks she can bear. It's time for Pearl to come up with another of her famous lists, new rules for living with (and understanding) her big sister. Some items become immediately obvious after Pearl's first efforts to get attention from Lexie's friends:

1. Don't hide Lexie's shoes, even if you think it's funny.

2. Don't show Lexie's boyfriend her baby blanket.

3. Don't talk about her throwup.

Some take more observation and and something new to Pearl--insight:

7. Listen to what Lexie says. I mean really listen and then pay attention. It's important to pay attention.

8. Take her seriously. She has no sense of humor about herself and everything embarrasses her.

Pearl has an epiphany when she realizes that fear of embarrassment is the secret to Lexie's behavior. The breakthrough in their relationship comes when Lexie, who claims to be too "mature" for Halloween, finally agrees to dress up and take Pearl and Justine trick-or-treating. Lexie even comes up with a costume as Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, and as they make their rounds, she gets in the spirit of the night and begins to have fun--until she meets up with a frenemy from her class at school:

Our buckets--all three of them--were growing heavier, and when we stepped into the fourth-floor hallway, I heard Lexie draw in her breath. "Uh-oh," she said softly.

"What--," I started to say, but I stopped when I saw a girl Lexie's age at the other end of the hall. Lexie didn't expect to run into Mandy or anyone else she knew.

Mandy was walking with two little kids, holding tight to their hands. Mandy, I hate to point out, was not wearing a costume--or carrying a bag.

"Lexie!!" exclaimed Mandy, and she began to laugh. "WHAT are you doing?"

By now it was plain to just about everyone in the world, probably even to babies, that my sister was trick-or-treating. It was also plain that Mandy Stanworth was not.

"She's--," said Justine, but I clapped my hand over her mouth.

"My sister's taking my friend Justine and me trick-or-treating," I spoke up. "Lexie didn't want to wear a costume," I went on, "but I had a tantrum and yelled, 'I can't go without my sister with me! And she has to wear a costume.' I cried until my parents made her dress up like Dorothy."

Pearl even ad-libs a non-existent sick cousin for whom Lexie has thoughtfully offered to collect a bag of treats, and Mandy is suitably impressed with Lexie's maturity. Lexie is grateful for her sister's rescue and suitably impressed with Pearl's insight into the situation from her point of view. It's a turning point in the sisters' relationship, and the reader is sure that Pearl's side of her sibling comparison list is going to be looking up from now on.

Ann M. Martin's latest, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister (Feiwel & Friends, 2011) shows off the Newbery-winning author's insight and skill in portraying developing relationships with friends and siblings in fiction that rivals that of Beverly Cleary's famous stories of Beezus and Ramona. Publishers Weekly says, "Credible characterizations, on-the-nail humor, and well-observed family dynamics add up to another hit."

The Sleep Strike! No More Naps! by Chris Grabenstein

Annalise Devin McFleece did not want to take a nap.

She fussed and fumed and shrieked from her crib. The baker on the bottom floor of the building complained that her screams cracked his cakes!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

"Too LOUD!" grumbled the construction workers, jackhammering the concrete on the sidewalk. Annalise may not have been tired, but everyone else was.

Dad decides to take her for a stroller ride through the park. But she's still not sleepy!

The man reading a newspaper was sleepy. He yawned and stretched out on his park bench and started to snooze. A shopper cutting across the park saw him and decided to take a quick nap on the grass. Their yawns were contagious.

"We need a nap," said the policeman with a yawn. The dog walker lay down on the grass, the skateboarder used his board for a pillow, and the garbage man fell asleep over a can. Even the squirrels and pigeons were snoozing.

Annalise's dad was yawning widely, too. He was almost sleep-walking as he pushed the stroller. Annalise Devin McFleece was the only one who was wide awake. "NO," she reminded herself.

But no one heard her. Even the birds were asleep. There was nothing to see. She was surrounded by snoozing. And it was s-o-o-o-o quiet!

Her eyes grew heavy.

She actually wanted a nap, but now all the naps had been taken. They were all being used. Except for...

... the cat with white feet curled up on a windowsill across the street.

"I've had SO many naps," said the cat. "You can have one of mine!"

And despite herself, Annalise Devin McFleece falls asleep at last, in Chris Grabenstein's just published sleepytime story, No More Naps!: A Story for When You're Wide-Awake and Definitely NOT Tired (Random House, 2020). Author Gravenstein steals a bit from Mark Twain, who, when Tom Sawyer got his pals to whitewash the fence for him, pointed out that the trick to make people do something is to make the thing hard to get." Notable for his award-winning Mr. Lemoncello's Library series, Chris Grabenstein is also the co-author of many of James Patterson's best-selling series of middle school comic novels, and in this first picture book, his comic partner is the Pura Belpre' award-winning illustrator, Leo Espinosa, whose stubborn, red-headed toddler is a standout and a stand-in for all those nap-deniers out there.

School Days: Slippers at School by Andrew Clements

Slippers wakes up to the feeling that something important is happening inside the big house. He wanders in, but Laura is in too big a hurry to slip him the usual tidbits from her breakfast. It is the morning of the first day of school, and she seems to have forgotten all about her puppy. What can Slippers do?

Grabbing her jacket and backpack, Laura looked around for her dog. "Here, Slippers! Come say goodbye"

Baby Edward called, too, but Slippers didn't come.

"The bus is coming!" Mom said. "We'll say goodbye to Slippers for you!"

At school Laura laughs with her classmates and stows her jacket and backpack in her new cubby. Sitting down, she can't resist the new box of markers on her desk and begins to draw a picture of her puppy.

But over in her cubby, her backpack begins to wiggle and a wet black nose and two brown ears poke out.

A boy sitting next to Laura saw Slippers. He said, "A dog!"

Laura smiled and held up her picture. "Yes! This is my dog Slippers," she said.

"NO!" Over there!" he insisted. But when Laura turned to look, there was nothing to see. Slippers was gone!

Following an enticing smell, Slippers' nose takes him to the cafeteria kitchen, where a cook soon spots him.

"A dog!"

Her helper picked up a hot dog. "You mean this one?"

"NO! Over there!"

But when the cook looked, there was nothing to see. Slippers was gone.

Slippers puts in a cameo appearance in the gym, where two boys are practicing their gymnastic moves. When the first one shouts, "Look, a dog!" the other corrects him with "The TEACHER calls this a horse."

But of course Slippers is gone again, this time to turn up in the office. where the Principal calls to her sweater-clad secretary, "It's a dog!!" Pointing to the appliqued animal on her front, the secretary shakes her head. "It's a CAT!" she says.

But Slippers follows his nose back to the Laura's cubby and the safety of her backpack, where he sleeps soundly all the way back home.

Laura's mom and Edward meet her bus, where they urge her to help them look for Slippers, who hasn't been seen all day. Dropping her backpack, Laura runs to help find her puppy. But when Laura calls, her puppy appears sleepily and gets a big hug from everyone.

"School was fun," said Laura. "Can't Slippers come to school someday?"

"It's a nice idea," said Mom, "but school is no place for a puppy."

Clifford's been there; Biscuit's been there; and even Ribsy has sneaked into school with Henry Huggins, but Slippers' secret is safe with us. In Andrew Clements' new Slippers at School, the author takes a now-you-see-him-now-you-don't turn on the old dog at school plotline. His carefully crafted text is just right for emergent readers or for first-day Kindergartners and first graders who wish their own pets could make that scary trip with them.

Other books in this series are Naptime For Slippers and Slippers at Home (Slippers).

Up A Tree! Stuck by Oliver Jeffers

IT ALL BEGAN... WHEN FLOYD'S KITE BECAME STUCK IN A TREE. HE TRIED PULLING AND SWINGING BUT IT WOULDN'T COME UNSTUCK.

THE TROUBLE REALLY BEGAN WHEN HE THREW HIS FAVORITE SHOE TO KNOCK THE KITE LOOSE.

AND THAT BECAME STUCK, TOO!

What's a guy to do? Well, he still has the other shoe, but when he hurls it into the offending tree, the other shoe doesn't drop.

It's stuck too.

Floyd is obviously not a kid who thinks outside the box. He pitches his cat Mitch at the stuff stuck in the tree.

CATS GET STUCK IN TREES, BUT THIS WAS GETTING RIDICULOUS.

Don't say you weren't warned. We can see where this one is going, as we say, as in short order Floyd borrows his friend's bike and a neighbor's ladder to toss at the tree, knowing full well that they need to be back in place posthaste before they're missed, but alas, they stick up there as well.

The situation escalates in the best "old lady who swallowed a fly" tradition, with the tree growing impossibly top-heavy with improbable missiles--Floyd's front door, the milkman (who definitely needs to get back to work) and an orangutan (who's got to have better things to do). The absurdity escalates as does the tree, soon filling up with a neighbor's house (complete with harried housewife), a firetruck and fireman, and a saw, which the reader fully expects the fireman to use to top the tree and get everything back on terra firma. But in this fantastical adventure, that, too, is not to be. Then, suddenly, Floyd gets his wish:

THERE WAS NO MORE ROOM LEFT IN THE TREE AND THE KITE CAME UNSTUCK.

FLOYD WAS DELIGHTED, ENJOYING THE REST OF HIS DAY.

FLOYD FEEL ASLEEP, EXHAUSTED.

THOUGH BEFORE HE DID, HE COULD HAVE SWORN THERE WAS SOMETHING HE WAS FORGETTING.

Kids will chortle at the total absurdity of this little cumulative tale, which Oliver Jeffers narrates with appropriate deadpan sangfroid. There is plenty of room in this vertically-gifted format for Jeffries' tangle of a tree and its improbable embellishments to grow, and his illustrative style is well fitted to this imaginative tale, with Floyd himself as stylized stick figure whose outfit is a simple plaid rectangle and whose tree is a simple trunk with a circular scribble for foliage. Jeffries' witty text is done up in a hand-printed combination of childlike cursive and manuscript, and the overall effect is uniquely charming. Stuck (Philomel, 2011) will provide giggles which will escalate along with Floyd's ever-more-loaded tree all the way to the final wry ending. Kids will be stuck on Stuck.

Max the Brave by Ed Vere

Like the youthful heroes of yore, Max is ready to go out on his first quest. Being a little black kitty hero, his chosen monster is the fabled Mouse. There's just a miniscule problem...

MAX NEEDS TO FIND OUT WHAT A MOUSE LOOKS LIKE.

Tired of being called "Sweet Kitty" and wearing a cutesy bows, Max dresses the part of caped crusader and is all settled to show his mettle in the conquest of The Mouse, just as soon as he figures out just what he looking for.

He approaches an empty tin can. He bravely calls out a challenge:

"MOUSE! ARE YOU IN THERE?"

A housefly flits out. Surely that cannot be the legendary Mouse!

Max stalks the goldfish bowl and repeats his query:

I AM FISH, BUT I JUST SAW MOUSE DASH OUTSIDE," SAYS GOLDFISH.

Outside, Max sees a flock of birds. No, they're not Mouse, but they just happened to see Mouse scooting by. Pink Elephant ("Eeeekkk!") and Rabbit ("Thataway!)" give Max the same bum steer. At last he stumbles upon a likely-looking little critter with whiskers and long tail; Hmmm! This looks do-able!

"ARE YOU MOUSE, BY ANY CHANCE?" MAX POLITELY INQUIRES.

"WHO, ME?" SAYS MOUSE. "CERTAINLY NOT. I'M MONSTER, BUT I DID JUST SEE MOUSE SLEEPING OVER THERE...."

Just a cartoon mouse Jerry always gives Tom the cat the runaround, Mouse cleverly identifies Green Monster as The Mouse, and after consideration of his considerable big teeth and even bigger mouth, Max the Brave throws in the towel, er, cape, in Ed Vere's quirky cat and mouse tale, Max the Brave (Sourcebooks/Jabberwocky, 2015). Vere's small centered illustrations, limited to Max and his current tete a' tete partner, and his understated but super-polite text, give this one a wry twist on the hero story in which Max the Brave eschews chasing and morphs into, maybe not Max the Wise, but certainly Max the Expedient. "A cat-and-mouse game to be laughed at and re-read," quips Kirkus Reviews.

Ed Vere's other books include Max At Night, and Bedtime for Monsters.

"Reading Between the Lions:" The Night Library by David Zeltser

It was the night before my eighth birthday, and I was having trouble falling asleep.

My door opened. "Would you like your present now?" my father asked.

"A book," said my mother. "I thought we could read it together."

"A book?" I stared at it. My parents knew I liked toys, games, movies--not books.

But the boy's restless sleep that night is broken by a sound like loud purring from outside, and when he raises the window he sees a large lion looking up at him.

I thought it was a statue until I saw the enormous paw prints in the snow.

"My name is Fortitude, the lion said."

And somehow the boy finds himself climbing on the large lion's back and racing past Yankee Stadium and through Manhattan to the steps of a large marble building, with The New York Public Library carved over three bronze doors. Inside the lion delivers him to a huge room with towering arched windows, long tables, and many, many thick books on the shelves. But when the boy reaches for one, it seems to leap from his hands....

"Adult books can be difficult to grasp," said the lion.

But in the Children's Room the boy recognizes many books that his grandfather used to read with him--The Tale of Peter Rabbit, The Cat in the Hat,--and The Polar Express, which they read together every Christmas before he died. The boy asks to take his favorites home.

"That can be arranged," said the lion

And it is all taken care of, in David Zeltser's latest, The Night Library (Random House, 2019). The New York Public Library's iconic stone lions, Patience and Fortitude, are as good as their word, for on the boy's doorstep the next morning is his own library card, brand-new except for some very large tooth prints!

Emily Dickinson wrote "There is no frigate like a book... to take us lands away," but a pair of iconic stone lions do a pretty good job at that, too, as they reawaken the joy and closeness of sharing a book for the boy in a memorable nighttime journey. Artist Raul Colon's illustrations render the midnight scenes in pale moonlit colors and dreamlike images, along with the solid but fantastic figures of the pale, monumental lions, all juxtaposed with the wispy memories of the boy's grandfather that recapture the magic of reading. "This should please bibliophiles of all ages," says Booklist.

For another flight of storytime fun for Book Week or National Library Week, share this one with Brian Lies' proven kid-pleaser, Bats at the Library (A Bat Book) (review here).