01/13/2020
“When it’s my turn/ to speak,/ I go/ quiet.” This eerie, brooding picture book for older readers follows a girl whose sense of alienation isolates and silences her. She trudges alone through an unrecognizable, dreamlike city and into a gloomy, dystopian institution filled with hostile peers. All the children carry catlike masks, to be worn at prescribed times. The girl’s is a mouse mask; in one spotlit scene, she removes it. “I would leave if I could fly,” she says, looking up at the ceiling. Yet there is redemption. Reading is the girl’s solace, she says, and although artwork by musician and artist Ouimet, making his picture book debut, stays dark, readers see intricate, delicate tendrils of life beginning to spread: “When I read, I feel that every/ living thing is part of me.” In this way, she is led to solid ground: “I may be part of everything too,” she decides. “And I am not small.” Though the conclusion doesn’t bear traditional signs of transformation, Ouimet provides the girl with promise: a sense of refuge, faith that all will be well, and a voice that will, “someday,” be heard. Ages 6–8. (Mar.)
"Stunning!... David Ouimet understands that to comfort means to strengthen, not to coddle. I want to send it back in time to my seven-year-old self."
"Completely original. Unique, in fact."
"A thought-provoking tale that is both tantalizing and timeless, where disquiet is dispelled through hope and sprouting confidence"
Booklist (starred review)
"Astonishingly beautiful… I wish this book had been around when I was a child: I would not have felt quite as alone."
"A powerful book, about the intensity that can live behind silence; about the power of books and how they give us strength and knowledge to deal with the world in which we find ourselves. A wonder."
★ 01/01/2020
Gr 1–4— This picture book is a deep contemplation about neurodivergence and perceptions of difference, despite its spare text. In a massive surrealist industrial city where the hordes wear cat masks as they operate machinery, a young girl dons a mouse mask and "goes quiet." In a first-person narrative comprised of short phrases, the narrator states that she is different, "the note that's not in tune." The illustrations are dark in color and in sentiment. They are both charcoal smudged and intricately detailed, with the city's controlled chaos leaving a feeling of claustrophobia on the page. The setting seems both old-fashioned and futuristic, and bustling spreads are well-balanced with several paneled pages and and those with ample white space. The story turns around when the girl finds a library and literally climbs out of her darkness into an inner calm. This allows her to recognize her place in the world and her potential voice. She states, "When I am heard I will build cities with my words. They will not be quiet." VERDICT While not a light read, this book is an important resource for children who don't feel they fit in. Purchase this hauntingly beautiful story to show them that they are not alone.—Clara Hendricks, Cambridge Public Library, MA
2019-11-10
Appearing small and isolated among richly detailed, atmospheric, even frightening illustrations that present a bleak, dystopian, mechanistic world where grim uniformity is the norm, the school-age narrator describes feeling misunderstood and alone. Because the child is timid and small and different, the child chooses silence. The world surrounding the narrator is oppressively populated; it's primarily awash in somber shades of browns, blues, and grays. Both the white-appearing narrator and diverse classmates resemble hollow-eyed, sorrowful automatons and occasionally wear mouse masks. Some students sport peculiar hairdos. It's unclear if the sober society depicted is real or if the author/illustrator is suggesting that this world feels this strange to the introverted, shy, and quiet. Yet all isn't hopeless in this disquieting story: Though the narrator seems troubled at being muted, the child possesses a lively imagination and recognizes how important silence is when reading, which is depicted as liberating. At the end, the protagonist is confident that this love of reading will someday enable a powerful voice that will finally be heard. Ouimet overplays his pessimistic hand, for, at this point in the narrative, his colors, oddly, don't significantly brighten. This is off-putting and belies what seems to be meant as an uplifting, empowering message about books and communication.
Not very child friendly, though it's thought- and conversation-provoking for older readers willing to engage with picture books. (Picture book. 7-12)
