Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Performer Porter collaborates with Clarkson to tell the uplifting first-person story of a child--described by their mother as "her songbird"--who finds strength in vocalizing. "When I sing, I feel like a tall sunflower dancing in the rain," the Black speaker opens. In contrast, at school, "I don't say much.... They laugh at how I walk. And they laugh at how I talk." Encouraged by a supportive adult, Ms. Irene, the youth finds the courage to go onstage, and matter-of-fact narration turns poetic as the child, leaning into avian motifs, asserts their emerging confidence: "I'm flying/ I'm soaring." Palmer's color-saturated acrylic paintings frequently zoom in on their subjects, and vibrantly wrought birds surrealistically appear throughout, even carrying the speaker aloft. After the eventual performance ends in applause, birds seem to dance in flight--an aptly musical close for this fortifying story about finding one's voice. An author's note concludes. Secondary characters are portrayed with various abilities and skin tones. Ages 4--8. (Mar.)
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Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 2--Flashes of the flamboyance that the LGBTQIA+ icon has turned into an art form in public life debut and shine out in this child's manifesto, though perhaps more in the illustrations than the relatively spare monologue. "Mommy calls me her songbird," the narrator declares. "She says that my voice is bigger than my body." So it is that despite futile efforts to fit in at school ("They laugh at how I walk. And they laugh at how I talk."), "I'm going to sing. I'm going to siiiiiing." In Palmer's radiant, exuberantly brushed paintings, birds, flowers, and even raindrops swoop and dance as a child with dark skin raises up hands and voice, until he's literally soaring along with his song and the peacock on the back of his shirt bursts out in a glorious fan of color. "Look at how I shine," the young performer testifies triumphantly, standing at last on a stage before a jubilant audience that includes his mother, who uses a wheelchair, an encouraging music teacher, and several children who show signs of physical or neurological differences. VERDICT Young readers who feel that they, too, are not being seen (or heard!) will respond strongly to this confident and visually bold declaration of selfhood.--John Peters
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
Actor Porter exhorts readers to dream big as he revisits his difficult childhood--and the talent that allowed him to finally soar. Billy's mother, who uses a wheelchair, calls him her songbird and says that his voice is bigger than his body. When Billy sings, he feels self-assured; when he remains silent, he feels "like a songbird with its music turned off." At school, he's quiet, attempting to tamp down who he is to fit in, but kids don't like how he walks or talks. (An afterword explains that children at school bullied him for his looks and that at his Pentecostal church, he was dubbed "a little funny"--a "'nice' way of saying they thought I was queer.") But Billy's music teacher, Ms. Irene, boosts his confidence as she encourages him to raise his voice in song. At the school talent show, he shines. No longer bullied, he gains the admiration of the other children, which helps him believe more fervently in himself. Porter's earnest, first-person narration pairs well with Palmer's explosively energetic acrylic paintings, which abound with birds of many kinds and colors. The peacock feather on the title page nicely foreshadows the climax when Billy sings from the stage, sporting a full display of peacock feathers, which readers (but not the characters) also see on his back during his standing-ovation performance. A feel-good biography with illustrations as bright and ostentatious as the fabulous Billy Porter himself.(Picture-book memoir. 4-8) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
