• Posted on June 10, 2015

The Skunk

There is a type of plot device I find irresistible: when a seemingly innocuous element is introduced into a story which proceeds to throw the protagonist’s life into chaos. One of the best examples is Patrick Süskind’s The Pigeon, but it doesn’t really matter, because what’s true in fiction is often true in life. For most of us, a certain predictability is desirable. Though we may rail against it, routine is stabilizing, even comforting. When it is disrupted, everything, and everyone, falls into question, and who we become in the midst of uncertainty is where the real story begins.

The Skunk doorstep

In Mac Barnett and Patrick McDonnell’s wonderfully sly new picture book The Skunk, a man is utterly discombobulated by the sudden appearance of chaos on his doorstep. Chaos, in this particular instance, takes the form of a skunk, as the title suggests. Not a normal skunk, which would unnerve anyone, but a skunk in dogged pursuit of some unnamed thing…or person. Impeccably dressed in a tux and bow-tie and on his way to the opera, the man does not wish to startle the skunk, so he backs away The Skunk sidewalkslowly and heads down the street. The skunk follows. The creature is neither friendly nor unfriendly, but he is always there, around the corner, sitting at a nearby table, matching the man’s actions move for move. The man confronts the skunk, offering various forms of appeasement like a saucer of milk and his own pocket watch, but the skunk is not interested. His paranoia rises. The skunk continues his pursuit from cemetery to carnival, finally cornering the man on a dead-end street. We never find out the skunk’s true intent because the man jumps down the sewer and starts running until he ends up in another part of the city. He buys a new house and starts his life over. But even as he celebrates, the anxiety persists. Something is missing.

“I thought about the skunk. What was he doing? Was he looking for me? Was he back in his burrow? Was he following someone else? I left the party to find my skunk.”

My skunk.

Is The Skunk the first children’s picture book to explore Stockholm Syndrome? Nah. Maybe. It would be easy to write an entire review about the psychological undercurrents in this book (I’m already half way down that path), but it would be at the cost of its other pleasures. Simply put, The Skunk is very clever storytelling. The entire idea is funny, and Barnett’s pacing is exquisite, building slowly to a twist (and slightly twisted) ending.

The Skunk dead end

And then there is Patrick McDonnell’s art. McDonnell has been such a frequent subject in this blog, I should have exhausted my superlatives long ago, but his artistic brilliance continues to inspire even as my ability to praise (in an original way) shrinks. The teaming of Barnett and McDonnell is perfection on a number of levels. Considering the subject matter, one might expect the skunk to appear menacing, but just the opposite is true. McDonnell’s skunk is adorable. His bushy tail curls over like a musical note, sweetly dwarfing the rest of the skunk’s tiny body, and his facial features bare some resemblance to the loveable cat Mooch from McDonnell’s cartoon strip Mutts, especially the red, over-sized nose. Throughout the book, McDonnell’s beautifully realized illustrations – master classes in characterization and line – bring humour and light to each scene, even as the story darkens.

But the apparent innocence of the skunk is deceptive, or at least, dual-purposed. With the exception of the last scene, the skunk’s face is expressionless. Calm. This makes it impossible for the man to know the skunk’s real intent. Is it malicious, or just a poorly expressed attempt at friendship? It’s possible he is over-reacting to the situation, but then again, maybe not. Chaos. The unknowable is what drives the man to make a desperate move and start a new life on the other side of town. The funny thing is, when the skunk is no longer in pursuit, he misses it. He goes after it. The pursued becomes the pursuer. In spite of the title, The Skunk is really about the man. The skunk doesn’t change. This is why teaming McDonnell with Barnett is so perfect. If the skunk had been an obvious baddie, the story could be read in a more straightforward way, but thanks to the subtle, artful intelligence of McDonnell and Barnett, there is much more going on. More questions, more nuance, and certainly, more fun.

The Skunk is brilliant and inscrutable, and like the character(s) in the book, it will stick with you for a very, very long time.

The Skunk looking up

Mac Barnett is no stranger to funny, occasionally subversive kids books. Just within the last couple of years, the prolific, California-based author has written at least two books that share a mischievous affinity with The Skunk: the take-down masterpiece Battle Bunny, and the award-winning Sam and Dave Dig a Hole, beautifully illustrated by a fellow-subverter Jon Klassen. (Barnett previously teamed with Klassen on Extra Yarn.) I am giddily looking forward to the upcoming Leo: A Ghost Story (illustrations by Christian Robinson), to be published in August.

Patrick McDonnell is the creator of the incredibly endearing, kind-hearted, and funny cartoon strip Mutts. Aside from the annual collections of his strips, McDonnell has also written and illustrated several stand-alone picture books, including the Caldecott Honor-winning Me…Jane (about Jane Goodall’s childhood), and my personal favourite South. I have reviewed most of Patrick McDonnell’s books, and rather than list them here, please click on the Picture Book Archive on the left hand side and scroll down the list for additional reviews. McDonnell is a member of the national board of directors for both the Humane Society of the United States and the Fund for Animals. His art is beautiful. He is beautiful. I can’t say enough.

THE SKUNK by Mac Barnett, illustrations by Patrick McDonnell. Published by Roaring Brook Press, 2015

For a mini-review of Battle Bunny, click HERE and scroll down. For another mini-review of Sam & Dave Dig a Hole, click HERE. (Both books deserve longer reviews, I know. Until then, I strongly recommend both books. Strongly. Recommend.)

  • Posted on December 24, 2014

And Now…Last But Not Least

And I mean that! As in previous years, I am at the end of 2014 without getting to the end of the to-be-reviewed books on my desk. Absolutely nothing to do with how I feel about these lovelies – I just ran out of time! Rather than carry them forward into the murky future, I would prefer to say a few words now, lest they be inexcusably ignored in favour of some pretty new thing in 2015. You know how that happens. Anyway, no order to this list, just deep appreciation and love. Longer reviews may follow…

Once Upon an Alphabet-Oliver Jeffers (HarperCollins, 2014) This book has been on many ‘best of’ lists this year for all the usual Jeffersonian superlatives: it’s beautiful, funny, and deeply endearing. Also stupidly, ridiculously, unbelievably brilliant. Each letter of the alphabet is given its own short story. My favourite is ‘W’ for the Whiraffe: “The ingenious inventor had a favourite invention of all-the Whiraffe. It had the head of a whisk and the body of a giraffe. They became great friends over the years and enjoyed strawberries and whipped cream. The Whiraffe, of course, whipped the cream.” All the stories are wonderful and the art is inexplicably retro and original. It would be my favourite picture book of the year, except that The Farmer and the Clown hit me in the feels in a way that no other book did in 2014.

Oliver Jeffers V

 Sam & Dave Dig a Hole cover2Sam & Dave Dig a Hole-Mac Barnett, illustrations by Jon Klassen (Candlewick Press, 2014) Individually and collaboratively, these guys are redefining the children’s picture book genre in ways that haven’t been seen since Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith gave us The Stinky Cheese Man. Seriously, who writes a book about digging a hole? Don’t be fooled. Shoveling dirt may seem mundane, but Barnett and Klassen elevate the subject matter way beyond its assumed possibilities, turning Sam & Dave Dig a Hole into a great, boyish adventure with a delicious twist of wry, mind-bending humour. It also says something about the human condition: always striving, never quite achieving, up for anything.

Gustave-Rémy Simard, illustrations by Pierre Pratt (Groundwood Books, 2014) If you like odd, existential tales, steeped in grief, with a tinge of dark humour – or Gustave coverif you’re Russian, Gustave is the book for you. It begins with this: “He’s gone,” followed by a heart-wrenching illustration of a little mouse in tormented grief after Gustave, his brother, is killed by a cat. Gustave has sacrificed himself to save his brother, leaving his sibling with a whopping case of survivor’s guilt. The little mouse wanders the unfriendly streets fretting about what to tell his mother. To say the story ends in an unusual way would not be understating it; putting the Gustave detailbook in a different, decidedly comical light. Gustave is not about grief per se – it is entirely (and wonderfully) its own unique thing. I kinda love it. I love its courage and its strangeness. The illustrations by three-time Governor-General’s Award recipient Pierre Pratt are both beautiful and suitably tortured. Colours appear scraped and textured, dimly lit, brooding. The mice, however, are full of character and charm. Gustave is not for everyone, but I promise, it will be an experience.

Gustave's brother grieves

Mutts Diaries coverThe Mutts Diaries-Patrick McDonnell (Andrews McMeel, 2014) As the title suggests, this book is a collection of Mutts cartoons organized by character into diary entries. A great introduction for those who are new to this magnificent cartoon created by Patrick McDonnell. It is also perfect for the devotees (such as myself) who have favourite characters and wish to read their stories in concentrated form – in particular Guard Dog, the perpetually chained bulldog who is loveable and kind in spite of his cruel restraints. An excellent companion to the annual treasuries (for 2014: Living the Dream) and all the other Mutts related publications.

A Perfectly Messed-Up Story-Patrick McDonnell (Little, Brown & Company, 2014) An unusual publication from my very favourite person Patrick McDonnell in that it does not contain any of his Mutts characters. It is a stand-alone picture book about rejecting perfectionism in favour of embracing life’s inevitable messiness. Literally, that is; the book is covered in jam and peanut butter stains, much to the frustration of the main character Louis, who is merely trying to tell his story. I’m not so sure I’d be happy about someone messing up my books either, but the point is well-taken. The book reminds me of the Daffy Duck cartoon where the cartoonist intrudes on Daffy’s personal space. A Perfectly Messed-Up Story, like all of McDonnell’s stories, is deceptively simple, subversively Zen, and full of charm (and a bit of strawberry jam).

Perfectly Messed Up Story cover

Kuma Kuma Chan coverKuma-Kuma Chan, The Little Bear-Kazue Takahashi (Museyon, 2014) Originally published in 2001 in Japan, Kuma-Kuma Chan, The Little Bear is newly translated into English, and it is surely one of the sweetest, most endearing books I’ve read this year. A tiny book about a tiny, puff-ball bear living in the mountains, Kuma-Kuma Chan is charm personified. An unseen narrator wonders what Kuma-Kuma Chan does all day, and so page by page we learn the habits of the inventively self-entertaining bear: what he eats, how he plays, and all the other simple rituals of home life. Some activities are a little quirky; for instance, lining up the trimmings from his nails and gazing at them. Other pursuits speak to Kuma-Kuma Chan’s appreciation of the simple pleasures of a solitary life, like listening to the rain, or taking naps. The illustrations are soft and childlike, beautifully mirroring the quiet, meditative tone of the book. With shelves of loud, intentionally ironic children’s books trying mightily to attain cross-generational appeal, it’s wonderful to read a book that is genuinely sweet and gentle – aimed specifically at young children. It’s easy to see why this book is so popular in Japan. Hopefully Kuma-Kuma Chan, The Little Bear will spark interest here in North America.

Winter Moon Song cover

Winter Moon Song-Martha Brooks, illustrations by Leticia Ruifernández (Groundwood Books, 2014) I’ve not read many folktales about rabbits. Certainly, rabbits figure prominently in children’s literature (and my backyard), but they tend toward the fuzzy side of things, less on the mythological. (The long ears lack gravitas, I guess.) In the lovely Winter Moon Song, Martha Brooks gives us an ethereal rabbit story that reads like an old folktale and is, in fact, distilled from various legends about mother rabbit and the rabbit moon. Rabbit moon? Yes, I suppose shadows falling across the face of the moon do, at times, resemble a rabbit, especially when brought to life by Spanish illustrator Leticia Ruifernández. Wishing to honour his ancestral past in a meaningful way, a young rabbit, ‘not so small as to be a still-doted-upon baby, yet not so big enough to be noticed’, sings the traditional Winter Moon Song on a violet-infused winter night ‘to lighten the darkest month of the year with a trail of magic.’ Winter Moon Song is a story simply, and exquisitely told.

Cats are Cats coverCats are Cats-Valeri Gorbachev (Holiday House, 2014) For all those who appreciate cats, of all stripes. Miss Bell brings home a kitty from a pet store, and discovers, rather late, that the cat is in fact, a tiger. She loves him anyway, even as he lays waste to her home. Frankly, an actual kitty will lay waste to your home. When it comes to cats, size does NOT matter. Miss Bell buys some fish for her cat, not as food, but as companions. One of the fish…well, as Miss Bell says, fish are fish (even when they’re sharks). The illustrations by Ukraine emigre Valeri Gorbachev are sweet and funny. This is one tiger I would definitely invite over for tea.

Cats are Cats detail

Mr Chicken Lands On London-Leigh Hobbs (Allen & Unwin, 2014) In September, I visited London, England – very briefly, to see Kate Bush perform and visit a few galleries. After many hours on planes, trains (but no automobiles), I wearily found my hotel in the centre of Hammersmith, and Mr Chicken Lands on Londonmuch to my surprise…shock, actually, I was presented with a package at the front desk. What it could be, or for that matter, who knew I was even in London, in that hotel? When I ripped open the package, it was a book – Mr Chicken Lands on London from my blogger friend Zoe at the brilliant Playing By the Book. How wonderful is that??? Though my touristy adventures in London over the next few days mirrored those of Mr Chicken, I do hope I was not as conspicuous as monsieur poulet, although I did spend an awful lot of time staring at oversized maps. It’s a terribly funny book, with lively, quirky art. Thanks again to Zoe for welcoming me to London in such brilliant fashion!

That’s it. Apologies to any books that have found their ways into the nooks and crannies of my bookshelves, too shy to be reviewed. I’ll find you, and I’ll be gentle. Until then, Merry Christmas (yes, I posted this hours before the blessed event), and my deepest, deepest, gratitude to the illustrators, authors, fellow bloggers, and readers who have made the 2014 reading year so grand. THANK YOU! XXOO

  • Posted on February 11, 2012

A Day in February

With Valentine’s Day (or Tuesday, as I like to call it) just around the corner, and in the absence of any new mushy picture books for the occasion (other than the usual dreary selection of pink and/or heart-shaped books permeating the children’s section), I am revisiting my post from last year, with one addition. It’s not new, just a new format: Patrick McDonnell’s sweetly unconventional Hug Time, issued this February as a board book. As the title implies, Hug Time is about hugs, and the procuring thereof, but among the beautiful illustrations and feather-light storytelling is a subtle environmental message. Nothing heavy-handed, just McDonnell’s characteristic gentleness and wit, now in a more chewable format.

For a full review of Hug Time, and other unconventional Valentine’s reads, please check out my post from February 2011.

Happy Blue Muffin Day!

Hug Time by Patrick McDonnell published by Little, Brown 2012

Listen to Patrick reading Hug Time.

 

  • Posted on February 12, 2011

Hug it Out, Earth

In spite of the title and the giant heart on the cover, Hug Time is not a conventional Valentine’s Day book, unless your object of affection is a blue whale, or a baobab tree. However, considering my other VD recommendations (at the end of this post) involve fruit and frogs, Hug Time is entirely within the scope of the 32 Pages Valentine’s oeuvre.

Hug Time is actually an environmental book, starring Patrick McDonnell’s favourite little environmentalist, animal advocate, and resident tiger lover, Jules, also known as Shtinky Puddin’ in the comic strip Mutts, from which this character originates. Jules decides that our ailing world is in need of hug, and sets out to remedy the situation. I can think of a few more things the world needs (more cowbell, for instance), but a hug is always a good place to start. Ever resourceful, Jules packs only what is necessary for such a journey, his favourite green sweater and a hug to-do list. If only my cat traveled so lightly.

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