WHEN I WOKE UP I WAS A HIPPOPOTAMUS

Written by Tom MacRae

Illustrated by Ross Collins

(Andersen Press, 2011)

Okay, before I begin to discuss this book, let me just work through a rant.  Writing and illustrating a picture book involve distinct skill sets.  I have particular respect for the talented few who excel in both realms.  The recent trend in children’s publishing is to print both the author and the illustrator’s name on the cover without noting his/her particular role.  Same for the title page.  Only from the back jacket flap can one determine that one person was the writer and the other the illustrator rather than having the book be a wholly collaborative undertaking.  I agree that names deserve equal billing on the cover and I realize that, when there is no specification, the author’s name appears first, followed by the illustrator.  I just think the contributors should receive a specific credit for what they did.  Am I the only one who feels this way?  Feel free to leave a comment.

Okay,...I feel better.  I shall shed my cranky Grizzly persona and move on to talking about hippos.

When I Woke Up I Was a Hippopotamus doesn’t actually dwell long on the hippo transformation.  No, this is a book about a boy who imagines he is a series of objects, each occurring at the most (in)opportune time.  When it is time to get up and go to school, enter hippo.  “[H]ippos in their sludge don’t get up in the morning, and so I didn’t budge.”  As the boy nears school, he becomes a statue.  His poor parents must push and tug to fight the inertia.  Once class is dismissed, the boy is a rocket, zipping home faster than the speed of light.

It is a fun book, one that might feed young minds with DANGEROUS bursts of imagination to help cope with the day while leading to greater exasperation from parents and teachers with their own schedules and commitments.

The story reminds me of the amusing imaginings of Frankie in Let’s Do Nothing and the adventures of Calvin in so many Calvin & Hobbes sequences.  Why be human when you can be a monster, a robot or a mud-lovin’ hippo?

My one quibble with the book is that the text is told in rhyme.  Some of the verses come off clunky as one has to squeeze in a couple of extra syllables.  Getting the rhyme right distracts from the goofy antics.  But then, I confess to reading every children’s rhyme as though it were written by Dr. Seuss.  Perhaps it is I who needs to stretch myself.

LET'S DO NOTHING!

By Tony Fucile

(Candlewick Press, 2009)

Bored. So bored.

Maybe it’s pouring rain on the day you’d planned to dig a hole to China. Maybe it’s dinnertime and you’re stuck at the table as Uncle Howard and Aunt Beatrice provide every detail about their visit to DoilyWood. (Please tell me there is no such place.) Maybe you’re stuck with your mom in a shoe store as she narrows things down to forty-six pairs of black high heels she’d like to try on to go with the black dress she finally picked on this same never-ending shopping excursion.

Yep. We’ve all been there. Bored.

Nothing to do. Doing nothing.

It’s all out of our control.

But author/illustrator Tony Fucile adds a twist. What if we take control and actually try to do nothing?

Frankie and Sal are best buds who embark on a quest for the zen of true nothingness. Sal’s the director. He sets the scene. Frankie is the well-intentioned boy whose overactive imagination sabotages nothing (or everything).

First up, Sal suggests they sit like statues in a park. Sit. Sit. Not a sound. Sit. Not a movement. Sit. Doing nothing is easy! But then Frankie envisions pigeons at the park, scanning the ground for worms, seeds and melting clomps from roadkill ice cream cones. (Okay, some of that arises from my imagination.) One at a time, the birds perch on one of the statues. Statue Frankie, naturally. Soon Frankie is covered by flapping, fluttering birds. How can anyone stand it?!

Ahhhh! Shoo!

Oops. Frankie did something.

Sal, of course, decides upon another scenario. And Frankie, of course, gamely joins in. Nothing happens. Until, of course, something happens.

Tony Fucile, a Disney animator, creates memorable images of the two main characters. Frankie, in particular, is endearingly drawn with a Barney Rubble tuft of blond hair, a too snug, too short shirt and prominent spectacles. The layout is also refreshing as the story begins immediately. No need to flip past a title page. That feature appears only after the text and pictures build up to Sal’s grand idea: “Let’s Do Nothing!”

This is an incredibly amusing book that everyone who has ever failed at The Silent Game will totally relate to. We like Sal and his creative scene-setting ideas, but Frankie steals the show. (Oh, and maybe Sal’s tiny dog who tunes out the boys and demonstrates what doing nothing is all about.)

Simple, yet brilliant concept. Add Fucile to the list of children’s book creators of whom I am absolutely envious.