Review by New York Times Review
"GRIT" is the word we'd use nowadays to describe the admirable persistence of Ox, the steadfast suitor in "XO, OX: A Love Story," Adam Rex's epistolary romance between a simple ox and an ohso-glamorous gazelle. Gazelle is famous and spends her days draped over a chaise longue, answering fan mail and preening in the mirror. She has a fabulously long neck and is elegant and poised. Or as Ox puts it in his very first letter: "You are so graceful and fine. Even when you are running from tigers you are like a ballerina who is running from tigers." No point in wondering what Ox - who likes to read and paint and play guitar, who builds birdhouses and tends bonsai - sees in such a vain, haughty creature. Love is love. Gazelle dispatches a form letter and a signed publicity photo. (Sharing this book with my 7-year-old reading partner, I had to make a brief digression to explain form letters. A furrowed brow, but we moved on.) Ox doesn't get the message and persists in his wooing, hilariously misconstruing Gazelle's barbed replies. His good-natured obstinance finally exasperates Gazelle, who pens an unequivocal rejection: "I could never love an animal that is ... so thick and ungraceful and awful and unlovely. And unlovable. I could never, ever love an ox." Is Ox really a simpleton who doesn't understand when he's being shown the door - or is he a master of psychological manipulation? We'll never know. He does get the girl, though. Scott Campbell's ("Hug Machine") watercolor-and-colored-pencil illustrations in dusty pinks and greens and terra cottas are charming and wonderfully expressive. Will some of the nuances of the humor be lost on this book's target audience? Perhaps, but they'll absorb the aspirational message anyway - shoot for the stars, and don't give up! - and their parents will have a chuckle. Ox and Gazelle may be from different walks of life, but that's nothing compared with the physical distance separating the letter-writing pair in "Pen Pals," the French author-illustrator Alexandra Pichard's first book to be translated into English. Following in the tradition of William Steig's "Amos and Boris," but with less high-stakes drama, it's a story about a budding friendship between two creatures who inhabit different worlds. Oscar the ant and Bill the octopus become pen pals as part of a school assignment and quickly realize how much they have in common despite their many degrees of separation. Both enjoy video games and playing table tennis, for instance, although Bill has to use glow-in-the-dark balls; it's murky down under the sea. There are plenty of giggle-inducing jokes like that. Bill has poor eyesight and wears glasses, while Oscar has to be alert to the dangers of falling leaves come autumn. Mail delivery is accomplished via a mouse on a motorcycle who hands off to a penguin in a boat who dives down to Bill's house on the ocean floor. Emailing would be so much easier, but for this generation of children at least, where's the novelty in that? Pichard's minimalist illustrations in primary colors are visually pleasing and fun. And as Oscar and Bill begin to send each other little tokens of friendship - sea-lion-wool socks and a tube of sunscreen for Oscar; a four-leaf clover and knitted mittens (alas, only six) for Bill - kids will enjoy looking to see which new items have been added to the otherwise unchanging tableaus of the ant and the octopus sitting at their respective writing desks. Oscar and Bill are clearly a French ant and octopus, though it's curious that the book's American publisher chose not to make this explicit, so as to orient the reader. The translation struck a few false notes, to my ear. I doubt many American 7-year-olds would claim table tennis as a hobby, but if they did, I think they'd call it Ping-Pong, for example. And Oscar's teacher promises a class trip to the sea if they keep up their grades, but how are Americans to understand the class average, 14.5/20? These are not major sticking points, and don't detract from the enjoyment of the book, but they do sow a bit of confusion. Circumstances intervene, and Oscar never does get to take that trip to the sea. But Barbara McClintock's continenthopping siblings are off on a big new adventure, this one narrated in postcards, in "Lost and Found: Adèle and Simon in China." The third book in the series takes them to Hong Kong, where they meet up with their Uncle Sidney and embark on a cross-country tour of China circa 1905. They visit the Great Wall and bustling Peking, ride camels in the Gobi Desert, learn Chinese brush painting at a Buddhist monastery and float on the Li River, where the locals ply the ancient art of cormorant fishing. Their journey is plotted on a beautiful 19th-century map of the Chinese Empire; they sure cover a lot of ground! Adèle reports on their travels in postcards to their mother, Madame Trouvée, a little wink (if you know a bit of French) at the seek-and-find conceit that readers will be familiar with from the earlier books in this series: Happygo-lucky Simon manages to lose something at each place they visit - a hat, a flute, a drinking bowl, a paper scroll. And no wonder! Travel is disorienting, and there's so much to look at in McClintock's lavishly detailed pen-and-ink and watercolor illustrations. The muted colors are lovely and the details extraordinary, though a magnifying glass might come in handy when hunting for Simon's missing items. A lost yellow scarf is not easy to distinguish from the many other garments in the same shade of yellow, and a little red abacus is camouflaged among so many tiny candied apples on a stick. What do those taste like, I'd love to know. Adèle doesn't say in her postcard. The seek-and-find element is a fun way to encourage young readers to linger on each scene, but as my son interacted with the book, I began to wonder if it also facilitates the opposite: a kind of goal-oriented skimming. And once the items are spotted, will a child want to return to the book? On a character level the story is slight; the travel narrative is primarily a scaffolding for the marvelous illustrations, which are mini-history-lessons in themselves. The endnotes, which are not pitched at the 4-to-8 set, provide historical context and fascinating tidbits. Who knew that a silkworm cocoon, when unraveled, consists of a single half-mile-long filament? This book is best explored by a child along with an adult. Flip to the endnotes and annotate as you go. I particularly liked the parting message. Simon's missing belongings, it turns out, were ah "captured" in the photographs Adèle took on the trip; but they are never recovered. Travel is about experiences, we are reminded; we can do without the things. ? julia livshin is a freelance writer and editor and a formereditor at The Atlantic.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [January 1, 2017]
Review by Booklist Review
Ox adores Gazelle from afar, and one day he musters up the courage to tell her in a letter, which he signs, charmingly, XO, OX. Gazelle is a creature with many admirers, so her response to Ox's letter is the same as all the others: a boilerplate letter with a blank for the recipient's name, and an autographed photo. Undeterred, Ox replies, only to receive exactly the same canned letter he got before. Are his hopes dashed? Nope: I think this shows that you are very smart and have a tidy mind, he writes. As their back-and-forth continues, Ox becomes more smitten while Gazelle becomes increasingly frustrated Ox! Stop this! Please do not write me again. Though some might wonder why Ox doesn't get the picture, or why Gazelle doesn't simply stop replying, the epistolary format is appealing, and Campbell's lively watercolor illustrations are entertaining, particularly when depicting the comical contrast between hulking, boxy Ox and lithe, graceful Gazelle. Kiddos who liked Campbell's Hug Machine (2014) will get a kick out of this, too.--Hunter, Sarah Copyright 2016 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
She's a famous, glamorous, and vain gazelle. He's a salt-of-the-earth ox with a gift for plainspoken eloquence. Their journey toward romance is a rocky one, captured by Rex (How This Book Was Made) and Campbell (Hug Machine) through an epistolary format and luscious sepia-toned watercolors. Ox begins the correspondence with a declaration of love that seems like it would melt the hardest of hearts: "Even when you are running from tigers you are like a ballerina who is running from tigers." Gazelle, who swans around her mansion in a wardrobe befitting a 1930s movie star, is unmoved and sends back a form letter and autographed picture-twice ("I have many admirers and cannot reply to each one personally"). But Ox persists (in a non-stalkery way, it should be noted), and his good-humored self-awareness and unflagging devotion eventually win her over. Rex and Campbell don't end with a romantic clinch, but with delicate evidence of Gazelle's changed heart-though the endpapers will satisfy diehard romantics. It's about as lovely (and funny) a story of opposites attracting that one could ask for. Ages 4-8. Agent: Steven Malk, Writers House. (Jan.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Children get their first lesson in unrequited love reading the letters between lovelorn Ox and self-centered Gazelle. To say that Gazelle is a narcissist is putting it mildly. And Ox? Well, ever heard the saying big, dumb ox? Ox, depicted in a white shirt with trousers held up by suspenders, begins the exchange by expressing his admiration for Gazelle and her graceful movements. A turn of the page reveals his correspondents answer: a form letter and signed glossy stuffed in an envelope by her assistant while Gazelle, clad in a flapper-style dress, lies on a chaise longue gazing in a mirror. Ox doesnt see it as a form letter, though, and thanks her for responding personally. Her reply? The same form letter, which Ox takes as a sign of her tidy mind. The letters degrade from there, going from a discussion of Gazelles faults (or lack thereof) to a letter stating outright that she could never love a smelly thingan animal that isso thick and ungraceful and awful and unlovely. And unlovable. Ox loves her even more for admitting this fault to him. This frustrates Gazelle, who rips his picture to shreds. But the next page shows the start of a letter to him; she sits under his pieced-back-together picture, her heart seemingly softened. Campbells watercolor-andcolored pencil artwork uses old-fashioned, muted tones, patterns, and background details. Gazelle is elegant and haughty. Ox is moony and down-to-earth. Persistence pays off seems to be the message in this bracingly un-Valentineish love story. (Picture book. 4-8) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
