Many a child has initially neglected a particular toy, doll, or book only to make it a prized favorite later on. Max is no different. He wants to play with “Sophie the Giraffe” or glow-in-the-dark Turtle, but never Bear. Bear is disappointed but waits patiently for his time to come. Then one day Max gets sick, and only Bear can comfort him. Bear finally gets the love and attention he’s always wanted.
This is the story behind Max and Bear (Archway, 2014), inspired by author Pam Saxelby’s grandson and his own toy. While I liked the overall plot, I feel that the book could’ve used a few more drafts. Rather than engaging a toddler, it’s more likely to try his patience.
The story seems to move at a snail’s pace, and there were needless characters such as the gift-giving friend and the pet dogs. Cluttering the narrative were “wordy” sentences and a number of details irrelevant to anyone outside of the author’s family. I also think that talking about Max being put to bed between him eating too much avocado and him getting sick just breaks up the flow of the story. Don’t be surprised if your child completely misses the cause-and-effect connection.
As for the accompanying illustrations, Stephen Adams has made them nice and large. However, there’s too much repetition, and the object of interest is often not prominent enough for a toddler to spot immediately. The story doesn’t need to be interrupted by a game of “Where’s Sophie the Giraffe?”
In the end, Max and Bear doesn’t deliver. The paper pages are impractical for a target audience that tears up board books. And the content is unlikely to hold most children’s attention for long. While I trust that Saxelby didn’t intend to write a book that’s merely a nostalgic momento for Max’s parents and grandparents, that’s what I’m afraid it turned out to be.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book as a First Reads giveaway winner on GoodReads.com. There was no obligation to write a review.
This has got to be one of the cutest toddler books I’ve ever read. Little Baby Buttercup (Nancy Paulsen Books, 2015) is a “Mommy and Me” story about daily activities and growing up. Readers will join Buttercup, as she eats, plays with blocks, “helps” her mother in the garden, and explores the outside world of nature and busy people around her.
Author Linda Ashman tells the story using bouncy rhymes that are simple and fun, propelling the story forward. The vocabulary presents a few opportunities for your child to be exposed to new words, like “traveler” and “journey,” and learn to pay attention to sounds, not just actions. While the story follows a bunch of mini-adventures, there is still a sense of dramatic structure. There’s a definite build-up, followed by a point of conflict – rain! – and a calming resolution. Not always what’s expected from a toddler book. Impressive writing, indeed.
Bringing to life Buttercup’s world is illustrator You Byun. She uses sort of an East-meets-West style of drawing and feminine-looking watercolor painting to create pictures that look “vintage” without being “outdated” and “Asian-inspired” without causing the reader to feel like she’s looking at manga. The illustrations are bright and large, sure to capture and maintain a young child’s attention. They are also relevant to the story, driving home the ideas and sounds that Ashman presents.
I think Little Baby Buttercup is all around adorable. There is a diverse multicultural crowd of kids at the playground and people moving about the town. I wouldn’t say it’s geographically ambiguous, because there’s an obvious east-coast town feel. However, California babies can easily identify with squirrels, coffee shops, and getting caught in the rain.
Before you rush out and buy this book, note that, while Little Baby Buttercup is clearly targeted at toddlers, it boasts a jacketed hardcover and paper pages. You might want to hold off on it, or at least store it in a safe place, until you’re sure your child knows that books are not to be torn and eaten. Properly cared for, this book could be read and loved well into the early grade years.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book as a First Reads giveaway winner on GoodReads.com. There was no obligation to write a review.
Author Jeri Massi has spent much of her career reporting on sexual abuse committed by clergy at what are called “Independent Fundamentalist Baptist” (IFB) churches and universities. This research has led to books addressing legalism, patriarchy, and spiritual abuse in churches today. Since Massi is a novelist at heart, it’s not surprising that she would also find inspiration for fiction in these real-life tragedies. This is what Secret Radio: My Senior Year at a Christian Fundamentalist College (Twenty-Five Years Ago) By Grace Jovian (Jupiter Rising Books, 2014) is all about.
We’re introduced to college senior Grace Jovian, probably named in honor of GRACE, the organization that investigated Bob Jones University’s handling of complaints of sexual abuse. As the book opens, her summer vacation has been ruined and her spiritual foundation rocked by the discovery that all is not squeaky clean in her family. Upon returning to college, Grace begins to question everything she’s been brought up – brainwashed? – to believe. Once a model female student, her newly-found open-mindedness leads her to befriend the religious outcasts and butt heads with the college’s entrenched authoritarianism and androcentrism.
To be honest, I think this book and I got off on the wrong foot. One of the first things I noticed was that the cover and frontispiece unabashedly make “Grace Jovian” out to be the author. Sure, the copyright stuff and the “advisory” clearly show that the book is a novel by Jeri Massi, but who’s actually going to read those? I felt that the author or publisher was purposely trying to mislead the public into thinking this fictitious work was an autobiography and that the events told were true. Believe me when I say that questioning the author’s integrity is not the most enjoyable way to begin reviewing a book.
Once I got into the story, I’ll admit the Secret Radio sort of grew on me. Massi knows how to keep a story moving forward and hang on to her audience. Yet even as I turned each page, curious about what would happen next, there was a nagging feeling that all wasn’t right with the book. I don’t just mean to point out the typos and too-small margins. There were fundamental problems with how the novel was worked out.
When the reader first meets Grace, it seems that she has already rejected, in just one summer, everything her faith and identity has been founded on. Those of us who have gone through those sorts of experiences know that, in real life, it often takes years of reevaluating your beliefs before you can confidently claim to hold new positions. Grace, however, seems to do so overnight. We don’t see her struggling against, say, an entrenched belief in male superiority. She just decides it’s wrong, and assumes that the reader hearing her story will go along with that. It’s enough to wonder if the character really ever held those views at all. Or more appropriately said, Massi doesn’t convince me that her character was ever the “fundamentalist” she was supposed to have been.
I also am weary about who exactly is the target audience. Plainly clothed and 470-pages thick, Secret Radio is not exactly set to attract younger readers, and attract younger readers it must. Stereotyped black-and-white characters engaging in juvenile behavior such as snooping, pranking, and sneaking out doesn’t make serious literature. On the other hand, the issues discussed in the book are not what would normally be deemed “appropriate for children,” and debate over religious doctrine would likely bore most young readers. I think I would’ve preferred a novel addressing the same problems but in a way that would appeal to adult readers: a heroine who actually seems conflicted, realistic supporting cast members who lie on the continuum between “totally good” and “totally bad,” and a main plot incorporating the sorts of tragedy that inspired the story in the first place. Then I’d say Massi was on her way to publishing a winner.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book as a First Reads giveaway winner on GoodReads.com. There was no obligation to write a review.
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