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STARRED REVIEW
February 4, 2025

2 picture books about our feline friends

It’s raining cats! These offerings featuring our curious—and sometimes grouchy—little friends are sure to make for a delightful read-aloud.
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With sparse, rhyming text, Lester L. Laminack perfectly captures a day in the life of a typical neighborhood cat in A Cat Like That, a fun read-aloud with engaging illustrations by Nicole Wong.

“A cat that strolls from door to door. A cat that takes time to explore.” Haven’t we all seen a cat like that? Follow a neighborhood cat as it wakes from a nap at a fire station and sets out on an adventure. First, she gets treats at the bookstore, and pets at the park. Then she strolls along the boardwalk before fishing with friends. But where are we going now? Where has our cat been walking toward all along? Climb the fence and we’re almost there: Yellow buses and a big red door! Who is our cat waiting for?

With sparse, rhyming text, Lester L. Laminack perfectly captures a day in the life of a typical neighborhood cat in A Cat Like That. As she wanders through town without a care, she could belong to anyone. But “she stretches and yawns but does not stay,” reminding those she meets that there is someone special she is looking for. Laminack’s repetition of the question “have you seen a cat like that?” emphasizes the common experience of seeing a familiar cat on a daily stroll. 

Nicole Wong’s whimsical illustrations bring this cat and her entire neighborhood to life, with clever details such as the cat’s napping spot on the title page, hidden characters recurring throughout each spread, and the cat’s collar being the same red as many details of the town, showing that she is right where she belongs. Wong’s use of scale and perspective brings a sense of mischief that matches the cat’s playful nature, with illustrations zooming in and out of the cat’s adventure through the town. 

A fun read-aloud with engaging illustrations, children will ask to read A Cat Like That many times over, finding new details in the pictures with every read. Whether one has pets at home or not, A Cat Like That is sure to please!

Natalia Shaloshvili’s finely tuned visual humor in Pavlo Gets the Grumps dovetails nicely with her comforting, uplifting message to any reader who’s ever been a bit cranky (aka all of us).

Natalia Shaloshvili’s Pavlo Gets the Grumps is the sweetly funny story of an eventful day in the life of a grumpy kitten and the loved ones who attempt to jolly him out of his bad mood. Will their efforts be successful?

First, while she and cranky little Pavlo eat their breakfast, Mama suggests a trip to the park. But a downcast Pavlo says no: “The swings are too swingy, the sandbox is too sandy, and . . . the slide is too SLIDEY!”

Well, that’s hard to argue with, so Mama moves on: How about swimming? “You love making big splashes!” But even as Pablo envisions himself and Mama floating alongside a friendly frog, he demurs, noting, “The water is too wet and . . . the fishies will nibble my toes!” 

When even a trip to the movies doesn’t appeal (that’ll involve sitting, and Pavlo’s “bottom is very wriggly today!”), Mama decides they’re off to the playground. “The best thing to do with the grumps,” she explains with fake-it-’til-you-make-it gusto, “is to go out anyway.”

And thank goodness they do, because not only does Pavlo’s friend Mila greet him with a sympathetic hug, she convinces him to join her and Mama on the slide, which this time is cause for giggling, not grouchiness. Even better, they have ice cream without anyone saying the ice cream is too ice creamy! Happiness is achieved, grumpiness dissipated, and day salvaged in a charming, amusing story that any reader who’s ever been cranky will relate to—especially if they’ve ever dramatically laid tummy-down on the couch while feeling irritable in a way they can’t quite explain.

Shaloshvili’s outstanding art, done in acrylics and watercolor pencil, is rife with appealing texture, spot-on body language and humorous details galore (especially endearing: a book-reading, bicycle-riding mouse). Her visual humor is finely tuned and dovetails nicely with her comforting, uplifting message to readers who get the grumps: It’s okay to feel grouchy sometimes, but don’t forget about the restorative power of play, hugs, friends and joy—not to mention ice cream.

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It’s raining cats! These offerings featuring our curious—and sometimes grouchy—little friends are sure to make for a delightful read-aloud.

In prolific author-illustrator and Walt Disney animator Benson Shum’s colorful, upbeat new book We Are Lion Dancers, Lunar New Year is fast approaching, and siblings Lily and Noah are lucky enough to learn about and celebrate this festive Chinese tradition.

The adorable duo’s curiosity is piqued when, after kung fu class, they encounter two lion dancers practicing for the Lunar New Year parade. The lion dance “scares away evil spirits,” they explain, “and brings good luck and happiness to everyone for the New Year.”  

The kids are fascinated by the lion costume’s vivid colors and furry details. Even better, “It takes two people to make the lion come alive,” and the dancers let Lily and Noah try it! Alas, although the kids quickly get the hang of various lion-y movements, the costume is too big for their little bodies. Rather than be disappointed, they find another way to participate: Lily plays the gong and Noah plays the cymbals while the adults practice their dance.   

The siblings’ creativity and adaptability comes into play at home, too, where they use a cardboard box, sheet and more to create a kid-sized lion costume. “Together, they LIFT AND SHAKE, LIFT AND SHAKE. They even give a little ROAR.” On parade day, they add the gong and cymbals from earlier to the joyful noise of the Lunar New Year paraders and the appreciative crowd. And afterward, they’re thrilled to receive a special surprise gift as a thank you for their help—and encouragement to carry on the lion dance tradition. 

We Are Lion Dancers is a winning tale that warmly depicts the excitement of discovery, the fun of being part of a team and the value of learning about and participating in important traditions. Throughout the book, Shum provides lots of fascinating historical and cultural details, such as events where the dance is performed (Lunar New Year celebrations, weddings, business openings) and the particulars of two traditional dance styles (Southern and Northern). “The Story of Nian” at the book’s end describes the dance’s mythical origin story, offering both context and inspiration for the next generation of aspiring lion dancers. Roar!

We Are Lion Dancers is a winning tale that warmly depicts the excitement of discovery, the fun of being part of a team and the value of learning about and participating in important traditions.
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Although Janie and her mother go birding often, she never manages to spot an owl, which she longs to see in the wild. Fortunately, Janie’s teacher, Mr. Koji, is also a lifelong birder, and owls are his favorite too. After Mr. Koji offers her a tip, she heads to the snowy woods once more and sees not one, but two owls. 

Children often dive wholeheartedly into their interests—many, like the wonderful Mr. Koji, carrying those interests into adulthood—focusing with boundless energy. When something sparks their curiosity, they explore it with pure enthusiasm, driven by a sense of wonder and joy. This is precisely what Matthew Cordell captures so skillfully in To See an Owl, using plain language and short, impactful phrasing: “I look and look in the woods. Deep in the trees. At sunrise. At dusk.” 

As the story unfolds, readers learn about owls: their vocalizations (entertainingly, one is “WHO COOKS FOR YOU ALL?”), their droppings (owl poop is called whitewash) and their habitats. Cordell’s repetition works to great effect. The refrain, “Perfectly stout. Large, round eyes. Silent, knowing faces. Birds of the night,” appears more than once and is beautifully paired with the stunning penultimate spread of two adult owls in a tree, snow falling gently around them. There are moments of subtle humor, like when Janie describes her patient mother, who faithfully joins Janie on her owl-watching adventures: “Mama is not excited about birding in a cemetery.” 

Cordell’s palette features a harmonious blend of earth tones and pastels, with the blue of the sky anchoring these elegant tableaux. In the spread where Janie hears her first owl call, only the blue sky, falling snow and Cordell’s handwritten “Hoo-hoo-hoo Hooooo-hoooo” are present. The closing spread conveys Janie’s awe at finally seeing an owl: “Magic,” she exclaims, her bright eyes reflecting wonder as the word escapes in a cloud of vapor suspended in the cold air. Having experienced the buildup of tension through Janie’s repeated attempts to spot the creature she adores, readers end To See an Owl by sharing in her joy.

 

Caldecott Medal winner Matthew Cordell skillfully captures children’s enthusiasm for their interests through elegant illustrations and plain language in To See an Owl.
Review by

This is the year Julieta Villarreal will figure out how to escape from the climate disasters threatening her home, the broken friendships she’d rather leave behind, and the grief of losing her twin sister. So when the Cometa Initiative, a private space program, invites New American students to join a space mission, Juli sees a perfect way to restart her life. 

Gloria Muñoz’s This Is the Year is a story about transitions. Perhaps the biggest change for Juli is the loss of her twin, Ofe, in a hit-and-run accident, a loss that lingers over the story. Driven by Juli’s first-person narration—some of which is directly addressed to Ofe—and excerpts of her prose poetry, This Is the Year takes a creative approach to storytelling that allows readers to observe the shift in Juli’s emotions, thoughts and opinions as a teenager growing up. Finishing her senior year of high school means facing the very people, disasters and feelings she’s so afraid of, but when she does, Juli finds that maybe there are things at home worth holding on to.

The rest of the world in this book is also in transition—and it’s less than idyllic. Juli and the other characters must come to terms with the consequences of climate change and heightened socioeconomic inequality, especially as humanity looks to space as the new frontier. There is speculative local and global chaos in this book, yet the world also feels hauntingly familiar—perhaps a warning of what may be to come. However, while This Is the Year is unflinching in its portrayals of natural, social and economic disasters, it is also careful to demonstrate that healing is possible, whether it be in community, through individual effort or even within one’s own self.

Ultimately, This Is the Year is a story of hope, not destruction. Juli’s story asks readers to take an honest look at the world around them and ask: Where is my true place? What does it mean to keep dreaming here? And, as Juli must decide: How do we keep moving even when things don’t go according to plan?

 

While This Is the Year is unflinching in its portrayals of natural, social and economic disasters, it is also careful to demonstrate how healing is possible.
Review by

A wondrous nighttime adventure unfolds for a nature-loving family in Safe Crossing. As the narrator, a young girl, explains, “The wood frogs, spring peepers, salamanders—spotted, blue-spotted, and Jefferson—and other amphibians are crossing the road tonight.” She, her parents and sister head out as part of the local Amphibian Migration Team to facilitate safe road crossings as the amphibians make their annual journey from the woods to vernal pools to lay eggs. As she did so well in How to Say Hello to a Worm, author-illustrator Kari Percival awakens children’s curiosity while spurring them to action.

Percival’s illustrations, bathed in dark purple and brown that contrast with the bright yellow raincoats and safety vests these citizen scientists wear, evoke the excitement of the rainy night. Readers will practically feel the spring rain on their shoulders as the team shines flashlights in search of amphibians that need help. A host of different species emerge, each labeled as they hop and crawl across the road to the vernal pools. End papers complement these field guide-like identifications with further information and prompt readers to go back and try to spot different types of eggs with the help of detailed clues.

The narrator recognizes that the amphibians struggle to cross a busy road, and “need their own safe crossing. Their own bridge or their own tunnel.” With admirable efficiency and a gift for presenting information in easily understandable ways, Percival shows how this family and others in the community turn this idea into a reality. Data is collected, plans are drawn, a grant is applied for and the narrator nervously states her case at a town hearing. “My belly feels like it’s full of jumping frogs,” she says. Before long, a variety of town groups help raise needed funds, shedding more light on the effectiveness of community involvement. Finally, the completed tunnels under the roadway allow the amphibians to safely lay their eggs. Several pages of backmatter round out the text, including fun facts, a glossary, safety tips and suggestions for citizen scientist involvement.

Safe Crossing is an exciting, informative call to action for budding scientists and environmental activists.

Author-illustrator Kari Percival’s Safe Crossing is an exciting, informative call to action for budding scientists and environmental activists.
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A plump mother duck sleeps soundly in her nest, with seven little eggs snuggled under her breast. But as she sleeps, there’s a crack, crack, peep! And seven little ducklings rustle out of sleep.

But what’s this? Later, the mother collects her seven ducklings and counts eight! The imposter (a turtle) is welcomed into the family—and so are the other little ducks who join the duckling line. Two more past eight, then two more past 10 add up to a delightful dozen.

Thus begins Seven Little Ducklings, the latest little treat from Annette LeBlanc Cate, and it has all the hallmarks of a satisfying storytime read-aloud. Children can count the ducks (plus turtle) on each page to keep track of how many have joined the family, and will need to pay close attention to the illustrations to catch when newbies join the pack. On the final spread, the mother has a surprise 13 ducklings resting in her nest, in a manner reminiscent of Sandra Boynton’s Hippos Go Berserk, where the number of hippos keeps growing past the expected 10.

The rhyme of this picture book flows well, and the prose includes chances for children to complete rhyming sentences, mimic noises or practice simple counting and addition. The sweet and lovely illustrations lend themselves to the adventurous nature of the story by encouraging children to look for the ducks, look for the imposters and compare and contrast which of the ducks are not like the others.

Seven Little Ducklings is sure to go down as a quacking classic.

The flowing prose of Seven Little Ducklings includes chances for children to complete rhyming sentences, mimic noises or practice simple counting and addition.

Natalia Shaloshvili’s Pavlo Gets the Grumps is the sweetly funny story of an eventful day in the life of a grumpy kitten and the loved ones who attempt to jolly him out of his bad mood. Will their efforts be successful?

First, while she and cranky little Pavlo eat their breakfast, Mama suggests a trip to the park. But a downcast Pavlo says no: “The swings are too swingy, the sandbox is too sandy, and . . . the slide is too SLIDEY!”

Well, that’s hard to argue with, so Mama moves on: How about swimming? “You love making big splashes!” But even as Pablo envisions himself and Mama floating alongside a friendly frog, he demurs, noting, “The water is too wet and . . . the fishies will nibble my toes!” 

When even a trip to the movies doesn’t appeal (that’ll involve sitting, and Pavlo’s “bottom is very wriggly today!”), Mama decides they’re off to the playground. “The best thing to do with the grumps,” she explains with fake-it-’til-you-make-it gusto, “is to go out anyway.”

And thank goodness they do, because not only does Pavlo’s friend Mila greet him with a sympathetic hug, she convinces him to join her and Mama on the slide, which this time is cause for giggling, not grouchiness. Even better, they have ice cream without anyone saying the ice cream is too ice creamy! Happiness is achieved, grumpiness dissipated, and day salvaged in a charming, amusing story that any reader who’s ever been cranky will relate to—especially if they’ve ever dramatically laid tummy-down on the couch while feeling irritable in a way they can’t quite explain.

Shaloshvili’s outstanding art, done in acrylics and watercolor pencil, is rife with appealing texture, spot-on body language and humorous details galore (especially endearing: a book-reading, bicycle-riding mouse). Her visual humor is finely tuned and dovetails nicely with her comforting, uplifting message to readers who get the grumps: It’s okay to feel grouchy sometimes, but don’t forget about the restorative power of play, hugs, friends and joy—not to mention ice cream.

Natalia Shaloshvili’s finely tuned visual humor in Pavlo Gets the Grumps dovetails nicely with her comforting, uplifting message to any reader who’s ever been a bit cranky (aka all of us).
Review by

Make a Pretty Sound: A Story of Ella Jenkins describes a pioneer whose 70-year career introduced children to Black music and music from all over the world, earning her a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 2004 and the nickname “the First Lady of Children’s Music.”

Thanks to Traci N. Todd’s rhythmic prose and Eleanor Davis’ powerful illustrations, this picture book biography is beautifully grounded in the lively sights and sounds that inspired Jenkins. Jenkins grew up in the Bronzeville neighborhood of Chicago, amid “the blare and bleat of taxicabs, the screech of high-up trains, the tambourines that ring as preachers preach and choirs sing—amid the pool hall-gritty beat of the city.” Todd shows how Jenkins listened to music from all over the world at record shops, and loved seeing Cab Calloway perform. Each spread is filled with lively city scenes, people and music—a church choir, a boy in a window playing a flute, Jenkins’ uncle’s harmonica serenade, or Cab Calloway, dressed in a bright yellow suit, belting out, “Hi-de-hi-de-hi-de-hi!” Davis uses a palette of textured bronzelike browns and reds along with a yellowish green and teal, giving the illustrations an old-fashioned feel that deftly imparts the grand span of Jenkins’ life: She celebrated her 100th birthday in 2024.

As an adult, Jenkins moved to San Francisco and became a teacher before returning to Chicago, where she fought for civil rights. She appeared at the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s 1964 rally at Soldier’s Field, to perform “for the children, for the hope she feels when she hears their voices, for all that music can teach them about themselves and about each other.”

While the book’s text immerses young readers in the variety of personalities and sounds that defined Jenkins’ musical life, these details are more explicitly spelled out in an accompanying timeline, lengthy afterword and bibliography. As a result, the book can be enjoyed by a wide range of readers, from preschoolers to older elementary students, who can choose how much detail to absorb. Make a Pretty Sound highlights the life of a musical pioneer whose message continues to be vibrant and vital.

Make a Pretty Sound highlights the life of musical pioneer Ella Jenkins, whose message continues to be vibrant and vital.

Thirteen-year-old Kaya Song has long been excellent at compartmentalizing whenever something feels strange or scary: “I forced myself to shove the whole mess to the corner of my mind, where so much of my pain was boxed up and stored for another day.” 

It works, to some extent. The tween’s life in Lihiwai, Maui, is in many ways idyllic. She has caring friends; earns excellent grades; indulges in favorite pastimes like reading and drinking boba; and gets to work with friendly, cute Taiyo when she helps out at her parents’ Chinese restaurant.

Nonetheless, in debut author Gloria L. Huang’s fantastical, heartfelt coming-of-age tale Kaya of the Ocean, Kaya’s “anxiety [is] so severe that my skin was raw and red from washing and scratching, that my mind was always filled with worries and my heart filled with dread.” 

Fear of water is central to Kaya’s anxiety, exacerbated by the fact that Maui is, well, an island, and Kaya’s friends are avid surfers. As Kaya of the Ocean opens, they’ve convinced her to join them at a secret cove. She and Taiyo stick to “baby waves,” but a giant yellowfin tuna knocks Taiyo off his surfboard and Kaya must rescue him. Less traumatizing, but no less weird is when, at home, the water in a drinking glass seems to move toward her. What is going on?

Fortunately, Kaya’s aunt is visiting from New York City and may have answers. She’s researched their family history, which includes an ancient Chinese water goddess named Mazu. Could Kaya’s anxiety and water-based goings-on be something else altogether? 

Huang employs vivid flashbacks (to China in 1629 and 1949, and San Francisco in 1876) plus a cascade of present-day revelations as she unfurls the surprising truth about Kaya’s connection to Mazu. “I couldn’t help feeling optimistic that things could change. That I could change,” Kaya muses. Her gradual willingness to talk about her feelings, trust herself and believe she deserves the support she needs will resonate with readers on their own journey to self-confidence, magic-infused or otherwise.

In Gloria L. Huang’s fantastical, heartfelt coming-of-age tale Kaya of the Ocean, the protagonist’s gradual willingness to trust herself will resonate with readers on their own journey to self-confidence, magic-infused or otherwise.
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Dania is in prison for a murder she did not commit. She spends every day plotting her escape and listing off the people responsible for her imprisonment: Vahid, the cruel emperor; Darbaran, the loathsome head of the palace guards; and Mazin, Vahid’s ward and Dania’s ex-lover. After a failed attempt to break out, Dania is surprised when Noor, a fellow prisoner, tunnels into her cell. When Noor reveals that she has a plan to escape, as well as a way to access hidden djinn magic, Dania sees a clear way to get her revenge.

A fantasy-fuelled retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo, For She Is Wrath takes the tension and mystery of Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel and transfers it to a lush, exuberant, Pakistan-inspired setting. Emily Varga’s narrative drops readers straight into the action from the very beginning: A prison escape, dark magic power and secret identities set up heart-pounding action that remains present throughout the entire tale.

But For She Is Wrath is not just about getting revenge. It’s also about how shaky the path to it can be. Dania’s growing desire for retribution is a force that not only drives her forward, but also compels her to look backward. As they work together to achieve revenge, Dania and Noor must come to terms with the price of vengeance—and decide whether that price is worth it. The book is not shy about the impact of Dania and Noor’s actions, asking them to sit with the repercussions of their schemes. Is violence ever warranted? Is it all right to harm others in the pursuit of justice?

This is a fresh story with bold heroines and a unique, vibrant setting. For She Is Wrath has the intrigue of The Count of Monte Cristo, but is ultimately sweeter, with wholesome characters and nuanced themes about justice, healing, and forgiveness. Readers, especially fans of Dumas, are sure to appreciate Varga’s multilayered twists and turns as Dania and Noor uncover world-altering truths about their imprisonments, their backgrounds and the empire in which they live, and learn what it is they truly stand for.

A fantasy-fuelled retelling of the Count of Monte Cristo, For She Is Wrath takes the tension and mystery of Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel and transfers it to a lush, exuberant, Pakistan-inspired setting.
Review by

Carmela Tofana wants more than anything to join the women at La Tofana’s, an apothecary run by her mother Giulia in 17th-century Rome. On her 16th birthday, she’s finally allowed in the door, first as front-of-house help, sweeping the floors and greeting customers, then eventually earning the ability to work with the recipes and herbs themselves. It is not always pretty work, but it is important work, and Carmela loves it.

But when a woman comes in asking for her mother’s secret and powerful poison, Aqua Tofana, Carmela realizes quickly how dangerous their line of work can be. If the poison ends up in the wrong hands, Carmela’s whole world could come crumbling down. But when the women in her community need help, Giulia Tofana steps up—and Carmela is determined to do the same, no matter who calls her a witch.

Blood Water Paint author Joy McCullough returns with another historical young adult novel that blends prose and poetry, as Everything Is Poison imagines the life of the daughter of famous real-life poisoner Giulia Tofana. Chapters in prose following Carmela’s life alternate with short about the lives of people around Carmela: abusive husbands and struggling wives, lonely children and pained adults.

McCullough’s focus rests on relationships conventionally overlooked in history: those among found families, female friends, and groups of women shoved to the outskirts of society. The desperation and determination of all these women in Everything Is Poison draw from rich historical detail while creating obvious parallels to modern struggles. “That is the daily work we are here for. Giving women a choice over what happens in their bodies,” remarks Giulia to her daughter, and that fierce and quiet theme permeates the story.

Readers who enjoy historical fiction focused on the power of community will find much to love in Everything Is Poison. Fans of Ruta Sepetys and Stacey Lee should pick up this fiery, unflinching novel.

The desperation and determination of the women in Everything Is Poison draw from rich historical detail while creating obvious parallels to modern struggles.
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When Abby Lai was young, she wished for a sibling to play with. Her parents granted her wish . . . four times over. Now the oldest of five, 12-year-old Abby tries to spend as much time outside her house as possible. After all, as she says in the epigraph of Chickenpox, “Younger siblings are like viruses. They’re tiny, and they can make you sick.” 

But then Abby is the one to accidentally bring a virus into her home, by having one of her best friends come over to play and unknowingly infect the household with chickenpox. Soon enough, all five siblings have caught it. The only thing that makes Abby’s skin crawl more than her inevitable rash is the thought of being in quarantine with her siblings for the next 10 days. 

Chickenpox is award-winning author and illustrator Remy Lai’s first semi-autobiographical work, following several acclaimed graphic novels such as Pawcasso and Ghost Book. Lai made the unique decision to write from her big sister’s point of view, acknowledging in an author’s note, “I could only write this book as an adult because it took me growing up to understand, empathize, and appreciate the things my sisters did and felt.” Her portrayal of her sister as a funny, anxious, sweet and headstrong main character carries a love for Abby that readers are sure to catch, leaving them hoping that Lai will tell more stories about her siblings.

Lai’s illustrations shine as always, with many hilarious metaphors drawn in, and vibrant backgrounds and expressive characters to emphasize the intense emotions that come with being a kid approaching adolescence. Lai clues present-day young people in to what life was like in Indonesia in 1994 through historically accurate details accompanied by occasional parenthetical additions that provide crucial information, such as how a home’s telephones all run on the same line.

This graphic novel is the perfect blend of the friend drama of The Tryout by Christina Soontornvat and the family drama in Twins by Varian Johnson. Laughter about the Lai siblings’ antics will be as contagious as chickenpox was in the ’90s! 

 

Laughter about the Lai siblings' antics in Remy Lai’s semi-autobiographical novel Chickenpox will be as contagious as chickenpox was in the '90s.

“A cat that strolls from door to door. A cat that takes time to explore.” Haven’t we all seen a cat like that? Follow a neighborhood cat as it wakes from a nap at a fire station and sets out on an adventure. First, she gets treats at the bookstore, and pets at the park. Then she strolls along the boardwalk before fishing with friends. But where are we going now? Where has our cat been walking toward all along? Climb the fence and we’re almost there: Yellow buses and a big red door! Who is our cat waiting for?

With sparse, rhyming text, Lester L. Laminack perfectly captures a day in the life of a typical neighborhood cat in A Cat Like That. As she wanders through town without a care, she could belong to anyone. But “she stretches and yawns but does not stay,” reminding those she meets that there is someone special she is looking for. Laminack’s repetition of the question “have you seen a cat like that?” emphasizes the common experience of seeing a familiar cat on a daily stroll. 

Nicole Wong’s whimsical illustrations bring this cat and her entire neighborhood to life, with clever details such as the cat’s napping spot on the title page, hidden characters recurring throughout each spread, and the cat’s collar being the same red as many details of the town, showing that she is right where she belongs. Wong’s use of scale and perspective brings a sense of mischief that matches the cat’s playful nature, with illustrations zooming in and out of the cat’s adventure through the town. 

A fun read-aloud with engaging illustrations, children will ask to read A Cat Like That many times over, finding new details in the pictures with every read. Whether one has pets at home or not, A Cat Like That is sure to please!

With sparse, rhyming text, Lester L. Laminack perfectly captures a day in the life of a typical neighborhood cat in A Cat Like That, a fun read-aloud with engaging illustrations by Nicole Wong.

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