See for Yourself
‘Doug Unplugged,’ by Dan Yaccarino, and More
Absorbing the sights and sounds of the city in "Doug Unplugged."
By MICHAEL AGGER
Published: February 8, 2013
When it comes to picking children’s books, I am a lot like those old
ladies you see in Upper West Side supermarkets, tapping, squeezing and
smelling the melons on display: “Is it ripe, dear?” Bringing a
children’s book into your home is not something to take lightly. An
obliging parent may be asked to read it a hundred times. Nay, a thousand
times. The big-eyed sheep that seemed so cute while you were flipping
through pages in the store soon begins to vex. Over time, reading the
book becomes like ripping off a Band-Aid. Even small defects — an
irritating drawing, the misuse of the word “presently,” a character who
speaks in rhyme — can form blisters on the parental soul. No, darling, not again. Let’s pick another book, please. I’ve seen the best minds of my generation destroyed by the 38th reading of “Knuffle Bunny Too.”
DOUG UNPLUGGED
Written and illustrated by Dan Yaccarino
40 pp. Alfred A. Knopf. $16.99. (Picture book; ages 5 to 9)
DREAM FRIENDS
Written and illustrated by You Byun
32 pp. Nancy Paulsen Books. $16.99. (Picture book; ages 3 to 5)
THE BLACK RABBIT
Written and illustrated by Philippa Leathers
40 pp. Candlewick Press. $14. (Picture book; ages 3 to 6)
THE BOY WHO CRIED BIGFOOT!
Written and illustrated by Scott Magoon
48 pp. A Paula Wiseman Book/Simon & Schuster. $16.99. (Picture book; ages 4 to 8)
In "Dream Friends," Melody gains valuable confidence.
The little hero of "The Black Rabbit" is stalked by a mysterious stranger.
It is fitting, then, that the theme of these four books under review is
the difficulty of making new friends — at least ones you would want to
stick around — and the way they can materialize in unexpected places.
The pick of the litter has to be Dan Yaccarino’s “Doug Unplugged.” I was
already acquainted with the author from his excellent work in “Every
Friday,” a charming tale of a father and son who journey to the local
diner for their regular breakfast. His illustration style can roughly be
described as Art Deco meets “Mad Men”: fedoras, solid shapes, bold
lines. But Yaccarino isn’t trendy or simplistic. He’s especially good at
slipping in the small, nourishing details that are savored upon
repeated readings (thank Heaven for those).
In “Doug Unplugged,” a robot boy is left for the day by his robot
parents. Rather than let him go to school, his parents plug him into a
database where he can download all the information he needs. “They love
their little robot and want him to be the smartest robot ever,” we
learn. The plug, of course, goes directly into his bellybutton.
But one day, Doug decides to unplug. Powered by jetpack, he roams the
city, where he learns firsthand about scaring pigeons, smelly trash cans
and the darkness of manholes. He also meets a human boy at the
playground. (“Then Doug came across something that wasn’t in any of his
downloads.”) It’s a sweet tale, and true to the anti-technology, analog
strain that runs through much of Yaccarino’s work. Apparently, all the
world cannot be comprehended in a Google search. And, as Doug learns,
“there were all sorts of different ways to play.”
I should probably disclose at this point that I am the father of two
boys, and this book is about a boy robot. I suspect parents of girls
will find much to cherish in You Byun’s “Dream Friends.” It reminded me
of the classic “Goodnight Moon,” with its haunting, twilight-inflected
color scheme. A girl named Melody plays with a giant cat in her dreams,
which gives her the confidence to approach girls in real life. That plot
description sounds straightforward, but this book could easily be
billed as My First Acid Trip. In a good way! The drawings in this
picture book debut enchant and enthrall and linger in the mind.
Did you catch my mistake? Yes, it’s the classic one of applying adult
logic to a children’s book. I imagine most kids won’t give the fantasia
of “Dream Friends” a second thought. Why wouldn’t a girl romp with an
enormous cat in the night? Why wouldn’t fish fly in formation through a
moonlit sky? Remember, we are dealing with people who believe in Santa
Claus.
This brings me to an aspect of children’s literature that, despite my
wariness, always wins my affection: books that recall some truth about
childhood we are apt to have forgotten. “The Black Rabbit,” by Philippa
Leathers, another first-time author and illustrator, builds upon the
indisputable fact that — remember? — children are obsessed with their
shadows. A rabbit is followed everywhere by a mysterious black creature,
even into the deep, dark wood. It is there (spoiler alert!) the shadow
saves the bunny from a vicious, hungry wolf who is also kind of cute.
How this pertains to making new friends, I have no idea (eliminating
enemies?), but it is a truth universally acknowledged that shadows are
awesome.
Equally awesome is Bigfoot, though presenting an adorable Bigfoot smacks
of overkill, like deep-fried Snickers bars. Scott Magoon’s “Boy Who
Cried Bigfoot!” can be forgiven this transgression, however. True, his
Bigfoot is hairy and irresistible. I also found his overall style to be
strongly, appealingly Brooklyn-antiquarian — perhaps because the boy in
the book rides a classic roadster bicycle that 20-somethings would love
to be seen pedaling to their C.S.A. pickup. The pleasing optics,
however, play second fiddle to the book’s midpoint Shyamalan-esque
twist: The story is actually told from the perspective of Bigfoot.
At this revelation, a pleasing pop of delight emerged from my 4-year-old
test audience. Again and again. I was O.K. with that. With the right
book in your hands, rereading is a pleasure. Until you pass out.