If Your Monster Won't Go to Bed

January 2, 2017
Vega’s spoof of parenting manuals stars a girl in pink pajamas and her monster, a yeti-style hulk with sherbet-striped fur. When it comes to monster bedtimes, “Don’t ask your parents to help you,” the narrator cautions. “They know a lot about putting kids to bed, but nothing about putting monsters to bed.” OHora’s (The Not So Quiet Library) thick, haphazard black lines are almost intrinsically funny. The girl’s father is so intimidated by the challenges of putting a monster to bed that he jumps right into his wife’s arms. (They’re a biracial couple, and the pajama-clad girl has brown skin.) The girl’s successful formula follows: “Step 1: Pour your monster a nice big glass of calming, crunchy, oozy bug juice,” followed by an ice-cold bath and a terrifying story. Vega (Grandmother, Have the Angels Come?) makes fine use of tried-and-true comic elements: the child who dominates an enormous beast, gross-out language (burps, smelly underwear), and the way her monster loves everything human children hate. Readers will be too busy giggling to go to sleep. Ages 3–7. Author’s agent: Lara Perkins, Andrea Brown Literary. Illustrator’s agent: Sean McCarthy, Sean McCarthy Literary.

January 1, 2017
What with keeping the fridge stocked with slug mush and sour green milk, incidentals such as mud soap and fang paste seem downright ordinary--unlike the consequences of ignoring the emphatic "Don't"s populating this unorthodox DIY manual: "massive monster tantrums." The six-step bedtime instructions are scrawled on wide-ruled school paper, detailing the biracial bunny-slippered protagonist's superior strategizing skills. If the detailed formula is rigidly adhered to, the rowdy monster will allow itself to go from a soothing ice bath to bedtime story to screeching lullaby to, finally, sleep. OHora's signature color palette and tongue-in-cheek retro illustrations with a matte finish bring Vega's uneven story to uproarious life. The sheep sandwich heading for the cavernous maw looks appropriately terrified, in contrast to the tiny terrier worrying the gigantic, furred monster's knees. From the parents (a shell-shocked black mom cradles her cringing white husband) to the exuberant grizzly-sized, pom-pom-sporting, rainbow-striped monster, the delightful characters revolve around a no-nonsense, brown-skinned child rocking her own pom-pom 'do. Regrettably, Vega tries too hard to be cute. There is a game of "toss-the-slime-ball," the information that "monsters hate milk unless it's sour and green and smells like dirty underwear," and instructions to "read the freakiest, creepiest, scariest story from your bookshelf--screaming where appropriate"--it's all just too much. A few moments shine, but all in all an overstuffed effort. (Picture book. 4-6)

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March 1, 2017

PreS-Gr 2-A brown-skinned girl in fuzzy bunny slippers faces the unenviable nightly task of putting her overtired monster to bed. An omnipresent narrator engages the unnamed main character and readers by discussing the importance of monsters getting their rest. Grumpy monsters are no fun, and with a series of "don'ts" that are reminiscent of what a chiding adult might say to a rambunctious child, the narrative proceeds to present what not to do, as readers follow the main character and her shaggy monster on their typical nighttime routine. Vega's incorporation of alliteration and wordplay, when woven with Ohora's bold acrylic art, creates a humorous discourse ideal for storytelling. Diversity abounds as the main character's parents, a white father quivering in the arms of her black mother, are shown to be incapable of putting monsters to bed. Vega reassures readers that "it's not their fault; they're just not good at it" and proceeds to list other concerns, such as sheep counting and avoiding the "Monster Stomp," which includes "waggle-wiggling, fur-flicking, [and] claw-clenching." The narrator provides six steps in the second half of the book, charmingly scrawled in a childlike print. Each step is fully illustrated on a spread. Strikingly bold artwork depicts a large, multicolored, bristly monster whose furry horns bear a passing resemblance to the young main character's hair puffs, slyly suggesting that bedtime routines are tough for monsters and children alike. VERDICT A superb example of picture book collaboration, this appealing title will be popular in most collections.-Rachel Zuffa, Racine Public Library, WI

Copyright 2017 School Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

March 1, 2017
In tongue-in-cheek direct-address text, Vega provides children with an entertaining manual for putting unruly monsters to sleep: Let's review a bedtime routine guaranteed to help any monster drift off into peaceful nightmare-land. She starts with the don'ts: don't ask your parents for help (they're useless with monsters); don't suggest counting sheep (they're too tasty); no warm milk (unless it's rotten, but that would keep the monster up all night burping sour, green, dirty-underwear-smelling-burps -- and who wants that? ). The do list includes slimy bedtime bug juice, an ice-cold bath, and a scary story. It works, and soon the monster is snoring. OHora's thick-lined illustrations -- listed on the copyright page as acrylic paint on 140-lb. BFK Rives printing paper. You read that right, just old-school paint on paper -- show a brown-skinned girl (her mom is African American, her dad is white) bossing around a large, rainbow-sherbet-hued, non-scary monster. The little girl's reputation precedes her: the story ends with a line down the street of neighborhood kids seeking her monster-whispering services. elissa gershowitz

(Copyright 2017 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)