It’s not a bad book. I actually learned quite a bit, given that it’s been more than 20 years since my college astronomy classes, and this is an ever changing branch of science. It’s got a good sturdy binding and current information.  The trouble is that it’s hard to judge who the target audience is. Follett lists it as interest level 3-6, and reading level 6.5. It looks designed for younger readers, but it deals with some pretty sophisticated science. In order to make sense of it, the reader must already have some understanding of protons and neutrons and atoms and quarks and plasma, as only some of those words rank a place in the glossary, and then the definitions are pretty minimal. Also it’s guilty of my pet peeve about timelines: listing chronological events horizontally does not a timeline make, unless the spacing along the line represents the passage of time. In this one, two inches once represents less than half a million years, and later on the same line represents 8 billion years. Ugh!

I would probably only have given this an “Additional Purchase,” even if it was better than it is. Given how little interest my students generally show in reading authors’ biographies, it would have had to be something truly exceptional to get a Recommended from me.  But it’s not even well-written, On the first page it describes Sendak’s work as “realistic,” which doesn’t jive at all with the rich fantasy worlds he is famous for creating. On the next page it tells us that,  “The Brooklyn Bridge is the most famous landmark in Maurice’s hometown.” Never mind that I might argue that the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building might outrank the bridge — no comment is offered as to how New York landmarks are relevant to the person or work of Maurice Sendak. On the page where the text is trying to convey that WWII impacted our author by showing him that the world could be a scary place, the accompanying picture shows everybody smiling and having a grand party to celebrate the end of the war — doesn’t exactly convey scariness.

It’s got a good message and cute pictures. An apple-growing mouse lives next door to a bee-raising bear, and all live in happy, helpful harmony until one of the bees stings the mouse and misunderstandings grow into an all-out feud between neighbors. Throughout, the bees and the trees remain above the squabble, continuing to help despite the argument, which is eventually brought to an end by near disaster. It’s a fine little story, but I found it a bit pedantic.

It is the truly fabulous sequel to the Caldecott Honor, The Red Book, a wordless book whose pictures tell the tale of a city-dwelling child who finds a red book in a snow bank, in which this child sees another child on a tropical island who is reading a red book about her. Through the pages of the original book, we see the city-dwelling child drop her book n the sidewalk as she sets off with a bunch of helium balloons to visit the friend she met in the book. This sequel begins exactly where the first book ends, with another child finding the dropped book. This new child in the same city connects with another child from the same island as the original, and this time the island child comes to visit the city (by means of pelican-powered dinghy). In the excitement of noticing his new-found book friend in person, our new lead character drops the book again, and we see it landing in a snow bank, where it ends, exactly as the first book began. Thus the two books circle round on each other.  Every school library should have both.

It’s a not so subtle, yet still cute and charming, reminder of the joys we miss when we spend too much time in front of a screen and not enough outside.  It tells the story of a small robot who spends all day plugged into her computer, until there is a blackout and she trips over her cord.  She tumbles down the stairs and out the door where she spends a day of adventure, pursuing activities that are similar and yet so different from those she does on the computer, all while making new forrest-animal friends. As the sun sets, little Blip returns home and plugs herself back in, but can’t stop thinking about being unplugged. The illustrations take a tip from the Wizard of Oz, with the plugged-in pages in black and white, while the outdoor adventures are in full color.

It’s a sweet story, enhanced by charming illustrations. It introduces us to Little Robot, and walks us through his daily routine.  He has a peaceful life, but he sometimes feels alone. He solves this problem by building himself a little robot dog to share in his daily routines.

A great book for exploring ways in which human customs are the same and different around the world:  everybody needs to bathe, but traditions vary from culture to culture.  The illustrations are vibrant, the text is straightforward, with extra information in the back for curious readers.

The main character loves to paint, but she can’t decide what color she should use to paint a kiss.  As she ponders each choice, she considers things she does and does not like that are that color, along with other things associated with that color (like red being the color of anger and blue the color of sadness).  In the end, she just can’t decide, so she asks her mom. The book ends with an illustration showing mom giving her a kiss, and the background filled with hearts of all colors.

This is a beautiful book that celebrates the power of imagination and believing in one’s dreams. As a young girl ponders all the things she’d like to be, a little voice inside keeps protesting with all the what-ifs that could interfere with the pursuit of those dreams, but the little girl is always ready with a come-back to silence the voice. intermixed with all the dreams us grown-ups would consider possible, like being president or a firefighter or an artist or a scientist, are the more fanciful like being a bird or an alligator or a vet who treats dragons or having tea parties with aliens.  And in the end it gets in an endorsement for learning and reading, as the girl declares that first she must read about all she’s going to do.

The text is current and direct, written in accessible language for early learners, and is supported by full-page color photos. The binding is sturdy, and it’s got all the appropriate non-fiction text features. I am often reluctant to spend full-price for biographies of sports figures, or celebrities, as their shelf-life popularity can be so limited, but this book makes the case for Phelps’s significance in Olympic history.