It’s time for another round of hard-hitting literary analysis in which our little critics unleash their unvarnished opinions upon an unsuspecting picture book.
This week’s book is My Sister’s Rusty Bike by Jim Ayelsworth and illustrated by Richard Hull.
The basic premise is this. A boy rides his sister’s bike all over the country. And, yes, the bike is rusty. The fun comes in the description of the adventures and the creatures and people he meets along the way.
Last night, Robbi rounded up the kids for a read and review session.
To which, Kato replied: “I don’t want to do a book review!”
And yet, his mother, being most persuasive, prevailed, which brought us to the couch, where Kato’s ruffled brow tells you all you need to know about his state of mind.
As Robbi started reading the book, Alden was delighted. By the bike. By its rustiness. By the overall adventure.
Our protagonist pedaled from West Virginia to Indiana to Colorado. What’s not to like?
Kato protested by reading a different book entirely, a classic critic move that can only be fully appreciated in the context of an illustrated review.
At one point in the reading, we stopped to admire and comment on some Easter eggs, which pleased Alden.
The story was interesting. The rhymes were fun and compelling. As hard as he was trying not to pay attention, Kato eventually put down the other book and started pacing atop the couch, so that he could listen without seeming like he wanted to.
But then, when a guy named “Buddy Biggs” showed up in the story, Kato could not help but get involved.
“Why does he have ‘butt’ in his name?” Kato asked.
Robbi explained the subtle, yet critical, difference between “Buddy” and “Butty.”
Once Kato determined that his name was “Buddy” and not “Butty,” he decided to pace some more.
At one point in the reading, we stopped to admire and comment on various pigs.
When our hero rode into the town of “Toonerville,” Kato perked up again.
“TOOTerville?!” said Kato. “That’s ridiculous!”
Robbi explained the subtle, yet important difference between “toot” and “toon,” but this time Kato stayed with us.
And so he was on hand when we came to a part of the book in which a horse turns on a TV with his nose. This was delightful to the children, who demanded the opportunity to try it themselves.
First Alden took a crack at it.
And was successful!
Next it was Kato’s turn, and Kato, ever aware of his own limits (this time, vertical limits), brought over a chair to help him gain sufficient height to attempt the task.
First, Kato attempted the “straight on” technique that had been so successful for his sister.
Alas, his nose was quite not long enough. I will not show a photo of his disappointed face.
His father did a bit of exploratory nose pushing of his own and discovered that a sideways approach was more effective.
Kato tried it again.
And…success!
And how does one celebrate in such a moment?
By leaping directly across the book review environment, of course.
Literary critics do this sort of thing all the time.
But, of course, since no one is there to take their photo, their awesome moves go undocumented.
It’s a pity, really.
Kato’s great leap coincided with the end of the book. At which point, Robbi asked, “So, what do you think?”
Alden: TWO THUMBS UP!
Robbi: What did you like the best?
Alden: I like when the horse turned on the TV with his nose.
Robbi: What about you, Kato?
Kato: I dunno.
Robbi: What part did you like?
Kato: None.
R: What part did you not like?
Kato: None.
Frequent readers of Kidskel and Ebert will recognize a pattern on the part of this particular critic, who tends to withhold praise at this point of the review process even if obvious delight has resulted in the course of the actual reading.
R: Really, what part did you like?
Kato:
K: Ok, ok, ok. The pig dancing is my favorite.
Ultimately, true enjoyment cannot be suppressed, and the smile that accompanies it cannot be denied.
So while Kato’s official vote is one thumb up and one thumb down, I’m guessing that had there been less pacing, leaping, and reading of other books during the review of this one, the assessment might have been slightly more favorable.
But who am I to interpret the opinions of the critics?
Ultimately, it’s my job to put you in the best position to form your own.
If you’re interested in picking up your own copy of this book, here’s the link.