A fox mom tells her kiddos all things they are to her, in a series of endearments that all end in, “boo.”  It’s got rhythm and rhyme and repetition.  The illustrations add a sense of story as they move through their day, making the point, that no matter what happens, “you will always be my boo.”

The entire text of the book amounts to a spin-off of “Marco Polo:” a toddler calls out, “Rutabaga?” and Mom replies with “Boo.” The illustrations are nice enough as they show the two going through their day, but there doesn’t ever seem to emerge any real meaning behind the call and response, nor enough of a story within the illustrations to count as a (nearly) wordless book.

It’s cute.  It tells of all a young boy imagines about what his folks get up to “way past bedtime.”  He makes plans to stay up and spy, to catch them in the act, but when he creeps downstairs he finds them snoring on the couch.  However the final illustrations offer the reader hints that perhaps those sneaky parents had been up to more than they let on.  The illustrations have the look of television cartoons, which makes sense when you read the illustrator’s blurb, as that is his background.

As with other Mr. King stories, he takes some idea too far, aiming for good, but learning from his friends about why it turns out to be not a good idea after all.  In this case, Mr. King likes flowers, but he doesn’t like when the caterpillars eat them, so he builds a machine to chase down and capture the caterpillar, only to learn that the smoke spit out my his machine and the plants it trampled were bigger problems, especially given that he neglected to ponder the benefits the caterpillar offers to the flowers once he turns into a butterfly.  So he turns his caterpillar-catching machine into a seed scattering machine that operates on smoke-free breath power.

It’s a bedtime counting book told in rhyme.  The illustrations add to the bedtime quality of the book, with lots of shades and blue and purple and green, and soft blurry edges that make them seem sleepy.  It counts back from ten, with good rhythm and rhyme and alliteration describing a variety of animals on their way to bed.

The themes of the poems are all relatable and humorous, but the quality of the poetry is somewhat erratic:  some poems read smoothly with both rhythm and rhyme, while others seemed forced and awkward to read aloud.  The cartoonish illustrations suit the tone of the poems.

This is a beautiful book, with rich illustrations that serve well to set the scene and the tone of a story with a very timeless feel to it, with a classic Christmas message.  A young boy sets off with meager provisions to make a long trek to the village square for the traditional lighting of the Christmas torch, an honor that will be granted to whoever gives the truest gift of Christmas.  Along the way he meets an old man huddling in the snow.  He leaves his cloak and cider to warm the old man while he seeks help from someone strong enough to lift him, but when he gets to the village they are already closing the city gates, and no one is willing to leave, as the ceremony is about to begin.  After all the Christmas offerings are made the Keeper of the Light takes down his hood and invites the young boy forward to light the torch, as he is none other than the old man the boy helped in the woods.

This is a beautiful book.  It’s the kind you want to buy three copies of so that you always have a baby shower gift on hand.  It is a love poem between mother and child, sharing all the hopes and dreams a mother holds for her child.  It shares small bits of wisdom and advice.  The illustrations are beautiful and whimsical and are well-paired with the text.

This is a complex book.  It’s not a light read.  It can serve readers who read for a variety of purposes, and for the right audiences it would be worthy of a “Highly Recommended” rating.  It is a picture book biography of an artist (James Castle) who was unknown to me, but is apparently well-known in certain artistic circles.  As such it would be well-suited to students of art.  It rather starkly tells of the horrific treatment he received, growing up in the early part of the twentieth century, before society knew much about how to meet the needs of special-needs children: deaf, mute, autistic, and quite likely dyslexic, he was deemed uneducable and neglected and isolated, yet still managed to develop his own art.  As such it is a useful tale for students of history and education and the social sciences.  Some things contribute to it being a bit of a confusing read:  it opens with the voice of James’ nephew using the first person to tell the reader he’d like to introduce his uncle, and since the book is written by Allen Say, it begins by giving the reader the faulty sense that James is Allen’s uncle.  Also, since it is an illustrated biography of an artist, the reader is left a bit unsure whether any of the artwork included is that of the subject, or if it’s all the illustrator’s, emulating the style of the subject?

I love this book!  The illustrations are cute and full of personality. The story is a celebration of words, a celebration of daring to venture beyond our comfort zones to explore the wider world, a celebration of books.  A little mouse who has been raised in a nest of torn words watches his siblings leave home to make their way, but has no desire to do so himself.  When pushed off by those who love him, he sets forth looking very Indiana Jones-ish, to discover the world is full of more words, and he becomes a seeker of words, even when it means braving the beastly cat, but in the end it is the cat who shows him the world of words to be found inside books.