The Skunk

Starred review from March 23, 2015
An impassive, red-nosed skunkâanother inimitable McDonnell (A Perfectly Messed-Up Story) critterâappears on a man's doorstep. Why is it there? What does it want? And why does it keep following him no matter where he goesâeven into the opera house and onto the head of an adjacent opera buff? No answer is forthcoming, so the man does what anyone in his desperate situation would do: he starts a new life in a different part of the city. And all is merry and bright (in fact, McDonnell's palette turns from almost monochromatic to kindergarten primary) until... well, let's just say it's possible to be emotionally as well as literally skunked. Barnett's (Battle Bunny) pokerfaced narration gives off a deliciously Hitchcockian air of high style and deep-seated dread ("I'll admit that I began to panic. I ran past the wharf and turned down an alley. It was a dead end"), and the collaborators' refusal to wrap up with a cuddly reconciliation results in a story that speaks to the urbane existentialist/absurdist lurking in the heart of every reader. Ages 4â8. Author's agent: Steven Malk, Writers House. Illustrator's agent: Henry Dunow, Dunow, Carlson & Lerner.

March 15, 2015
When is a skunk not a skunk? When it's a...skunk. A bespectacled man peers out his front door at a red-nosed skunk perched on his stoop, gazing back. The skunk does nothing overtly threatening, just looks at the man and then follows him down the street. The man sports tails and a cummerbund, his red bow tie visually connecting him to the skunk's red nose; overall, McDonnell's palette is muted, metropolitan blacks and grays occasionally accented by peach and red. The skunk is bipedal, his posture mimicking the narrator's as he tails the man through the city on foot and by cab-yet, the narrator tells readers, "the skunk was a skunk." To the opera, through cemetery, carnival-a brief sojourn on a Ferris wheel is particularly symbolic of existential futility-and sewers the man flees, finally finding himself in a completely different part of the city, where he buys a new house. Here the palette changes to primary colors; there is no skunk, but the man's visiting friends take on the look of circus clowns. Something is missing; the man leaves his housewarming party to find "[his] skunk." On doing so, the man begins to tail the skunk, to "make sure he does not follow me again." Adults will turn themselves inside out trying to figure it out; kids will either find the whole idea hysterical or just plain befuddling. Peculiar, perplexing, and persistent-training wheels for Samuel Beckett. (Picture book. 6-10)

Starred review from March 1, 2015

K-Gr 3-A man is stalked by a silent skunk in this charmingly neurotic offering. Leaving his home one day, a bespectacled, tuxedo-clad gentleman discovers a small skunk sitting on his doorstep. As the man makes his way about town, the creature remains close on his heels (."..after a mile I realized I was being followed.") He speeds up, he slows down, he takes many wild turns, but to no avail. Still the skunk remains. Barnett's text is delivered in short, clipped sentences that convey the man's annoyance and increasing paranoia. McDonnell's distinctive pen-and-ink illustrations (the little skunk bears a striking resemblance to a couple of familiar mutts) harken back to classic comic strip humor, with expressive body language, dynamic action lines, and thoughtful compositions, creating tension and drama. The majority of the book uses a limited palette of black, peach, touches of red (notably for the skunk's oversized nose and the man's posh bow-tie), and smart use of white space. The man finally outruns his striped admirer, purchasing a new house in a different part of the city. He throws himself a fancy party with dancing and dessert. But he finds himself wondering about that skunk ("What was he doing? Was he looking for me?") Roles reverse and the pursued becomes the pursuer, as the man now slinks around corners and behind trees, surreptitiously following the skunk-who, on the last page, looks anxiously over his shoulder at the man. Why did the skunk follow the man initially? Is this a tale of regret and missed opportunities, a lesson on the dangers of letting potential friends slip away? Of not knowing what you've got 'til it's gone? Barnett and McDonnell offer no explanations, but invite readers to ponder the possibilities. Here's hoping this talented duo pair up for many more picture book collaborations. VERDICT Clever visual motifs, sly storytelling, and tight pacing make this a picture book that will be enjoyed by children and their grown-ups.-Kiera Parrott, School Library Journal

Copyright 2015 School Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

May 1, 2015
Grades K-3 How do you shake a skunk from your tail? Such is one man's quandary after finding a skunk on his doorstep one evening. Next thing he knows, it's peering around corners, following him in a taxi, and giving flat-out chase through a carnival. Though told with the seriousness of a thriller, the red-nosed skunk's pursuit of the mansimilarly clad in a black and white tux with red bow tiewill tickle readers with its escalating absurdity. Eventually, the man moves to a new, skunk-free neighborhood, and the book's noir color palette (gray, black, white, splashes of red) blossoms with cheerful primaries until the man is overtaken by the need to know where the skunk is. So back he goes into the noirish night, only this time the tables have turned. Caldecott honorees Barnett and McDonnell (Extra Yarn, 2012, and Me . . . Jane, 2011, respectively) combine their considerable talents in this dark comedy. With more silliness than suspense, the story features antics that even sensitive children will love, and older readers will appreciate the role reversal at the book's end.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2015, American Library Association.)

Starred review from July 1, 2015
A skunk shows up on the narrator's doorstep and begins to tail him. Try as he might, our narrator just can't seem to shake the skunk -- When I sped up, the skunk sped up. When I slowed, the skunk slowed -- despite dodging in and out of an opera house, a graveyard, and a carnival. Ultimately, however, our narrator does lose his unwelcome shadow, crawling down a manhole in an alley and establishing a new life in a new house in a new part of the city (the heretofore low-toned palette now bursting with blue and yellow). It's not long, though, before he realizes everything's not what it's cracked up to be, and he leaves his own party to go off in search of the skunk, vowing to keep an eye on him to make sure he does not follow me again. McDonnell's graceful and simple cartoonlike illustrations mitigate the notes of paranoia and obsession in Barnett's deadpan text, particularly in their rendering of the posture, gestures, and expressions of the main characters. Barnett has had the good fortune to collaborate with illustrators -- Rex, Santat, Klassen -- who share his oftentimes offbeat sense of humor; his pairing with McDonnell seems as natural as any of them. jonathan hunt

(Copyright 2015 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)