Review by Booklist Review
Messy homework? He blames his pen. Mud on the rug? He blames his shoes. Unruly hair? He blames his comb. In fact, it's his sheet's fault the bed's not made, and the moon's fault he can't sleep. That is, until the boy's belongings step up and fight back, starting with a lecture from his furious pen. But will he learn his lesson? The premise is funnier than the execution, which is surprising, coming from an author and illustrator who have both proven their comedy skills quite successfully several times over, but it is nevertheless a creative way to start a discussion on taking responsibility for one's actions and learning why one shouldn't point fingers unfairly. There is some mixed messaging with the surprise ending: he apologizes to all the inanimate objects he has been blaming, when, in fact, he doesn't learn his lesson at all. Still, the bright, colorful spreads with growling, angry school supplies are humorous images, and the cavalier messiness of the book will hold definite appeal for a specific audience.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
John (Giraffe Problems) and Chapman's (Vegetables in Underwear) redheaded protagonist is a pro at passing the buck: it's his pen's fault that his homework is messy and late, and the moon's fault that he's up past his bedtime. But his fall guys are not as inanimate as he assumes (the brightly colored cartooned line drawings show them fuming with each falsehood), and late one night the pen holds an intervention, unleashing a torrent of hard truths and a threat to revoke affection that should make for bravura reading aloud. "Blaming everything but yourself, never taking responsibility for your actions, and pointing a guilty, quaking finger whenever you've done anything wrong is a sham," the pen declares. What's more, "blaming the moon for when you stay up too late makes literally NO SENSE AT ALL." ("YEAH!" an angry moon echoes from the sky.) And it works: the boy announces at school the next day that he accepts responsibility for his actions--well, at least partially. There's something to be said for the story's unalloyed righteous indignation, its conviction showing that the blame game is never just fun and games. Ages 3--7. Author's agent: Kirsten Hall, Catbird Productions. Illustrator's agent: Rebecca Sherman, Writers House. (June)
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Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 1--3--A young boy is so incapable of accepting responsibility for his own mistakes that he blames everyone--and everything--around him. When the inanimate objects in his life get fed up with being scapegoats, they stage a revolt, rising up in the middle of the night to tell the boy why his blame-shifting actions are wrong. Human characters have a comics aesthetic to them, while the inanimate objects all have expressive faces. An angry pair of shoes, a furious backpack, and an irate bar of soap show their fury by grimacing and baring teeth at the irresponsible main character. The book employs what is now a John trademark: a character delivers a page-long monologue in which the moral of the story is delivered. While the narrative delivery lacks cleverness, the book's presentation and metatext is dripping with it. The jacket flap is narrated by the buck-passing main character. The dedication features the illustrator blaming the author and the author claiming, naturally, that it's not his fault. VERDICT Recommended for collections in which other Jory books such as Penguin Problems or Giraffe Problems are popular.--Chance Lee Joyner, Haverhill Public Library, MA
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Review by Horn Book Review
An unnamed protagonist is pretty sure he has life figured out. Make a mistake, "just blame other stuff." Whether it's his pen, his shoes, his comb, or even the moon, whenever anything goes wrong, there is always something else at fault. But when these frustrated inanimate objects decide they've had enough, they speak up. One night a pen (blamed for messy homework, illegible test answers, and late assignments) lectures our protagonist about his habit of passing the buck. Although its speechifying is (winkingly) didactic, it just might be (partly) effective. Along with kids who enjoy seeing bad behavior, John's story is sure to appeal to those grownups who are fed up with ridiculous excuses. In Chapman's simple, bright, colorful illustrations, full-bleed spreads alternate with framed single pages and occasional dynamic panels showing a gap-toothed redheaded protagonist and grimacing, angry objects. The humor in both art and text makes this an appealing picture book that might even cause some self-reflection and growth in its readers. Eric Carpenter May/June 2020 p.101(c) Copyright 2020. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Inanimate objects defend themselves against misassigned blame. An aggrieved teacher asks her student, "Why is your homework so messy?…Why can't I read these test answers?…Why is your assignment so late?" The red-haired, gap-toothed boy confidently blames his pen, which growls in frustration in four increasingly large graphic-novel--style panels. The nameless white boy blames his shoes for mud tracked into the house, his backpack for his missing homework, and the moon for his late bedtime. "Welp. I think I've figured it all out. You just blame other stuff!" boasts this unlikable protagonist. But in a Scrooge-ian maybe-dream, his angry pen launches into a lengthy diatribe about how "never taking responsibility for your actions…is a sham." The lecture continues for multiple pages, ending with the pen's dubious assertion that the boy is "a mostly good kid with mostly good intentions" (though the text provides no evidence to back up this claim). The next day the boy seems to turn over a new leaf, standing on a table and yelling to his multiracial classmates that he no longer blames his possessions for his mistakes, but when put to the test, he goes back to his old habits. What could be an interesting commentary on white male entitlement ultimately fails to deliver, but Chapman's cartoons of growling, angrily grimacing anthropomorphic objects are amusing. An ineffective mixture of moralistic and didactic. (Picture book. 4-7) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
