Since the books are separate, it aids in customization for many families. The two books are largely interchangeable, especially since there are so few references to mom or dad, but one spread in each book reverts to stereotype: Dad balances the two-wheeler, and mom helps with clothing and hair styles. These books are likely to go right over children’s heads and developmental levels (especially with the rather advanced vocabulary) their parents are the more likely audience, and for them, the books provide some coaching in what kids need to hear. Though the sentiments/life lessons here and in the companion title are heartfelt and important, there are much better ways to deliver them. Both address standing up for yourself and your values, laughing to ease troubles, being thankful, valuing friendship, persevering and dreaming big, being truthful, thinking through decisions, and being open to differences, among other topics. I hope you believe this is true.” A virtually identical book, Why a Daughter Needs a Dad, publishes simultaneously. In a crowded subgenre, this offering is unnecessary.Īll the reasons why a daughter needs a mother.Įach spread features an adorable cartoon animal parent-child pair on the recto opposite a rhyming verse: “I’ll always support you in giving your all / in every endeavor, the big and the small, / and be there to catch you in case you should fall. Choose Tameka Fryer Brown and Shane Evans’ My Cold Plum Lemon Pie Bluesy Mood (2013) or Judith Viorst and Ray Cruz’s classic Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (1972) instead. In a critical misstep for a book for fostering emotional literacy, narrator Keya says Hooper looks “way past mad”-echoing an earlier description of Keya-while the illustrations clearly show him as hurt, not angry.

A “gold medal like sunshine” that Keya wins in the imagined race is barely visible. Many illustrations are too uniformly saturated, with the composition offering no clear place to focus. Keya’s glorious, lively black curls are de la Prada’s best visual. Keya and her family present white and Hooper, black.

Aside from twice waxing poetic (“The kind of mad that starts / and swells / and spreads like a rash”), Adelman’s prose is dull and declarative (“Then we joked and laughed. Keya bursts out, “I don’t like you, Hooper.” It’s not true, of course, and they make up after a sweetly responsible apology. A fantasy race ensues, briefly cathartic, but Keya’s temper explodes after a knee-scraping tumble. Hooper, Keya’s friend, offers a cheerful greeting, but Keya darts away. Protagonist Keya fumes when younger brother Nate gives Keya’s cereal to the dog and cuts holes in Keya’s favorite hat. Anger at a sibling gets taken out on a friend.

Way Past Mad by Hallee Adelman