Over in the Ocean: In a Coral Reef, by Marianne Berkes, illustrated by Jeanette Canyon
(Dawn Publications, Paperback, 36 pp., $8.95, Ages 3-7)
Reviewed by James Barrett-Morison

            Over in the ocean
            Where the sea grasses grew
            Lived a mother parrotfish
            And her parrotfish two.

Over in the Ocean presents a fun rhyme about coral reef families, in the process teaching the numbers one through ten. The book centers around descriptions of families in the coral reef and their daily activities, from angelfish grazing to stingrays stirring the sand. Jeanette Canyon's illustrations, constructed entirely from clay, complement the story and give it a whimsical quality. 

Despite how fun it is to read aloud, Over in the Ocean is not for the ecological purist. In constructing families with ten or fewer children, it deviates from what could be called "traditional sea-life families," for example by depicting the octopus, which lays hundreds of thousands of eggs at once, as having only one child. It does contain some ecological insight, for example by (correctly) portraying the father seahorse as the primary guardian, but like many children's books that anthropomorphize animals, the book is not useful as a biological reference.

The greatest resource I found in this book is in the back material. Berkes, a veteran Florida storyteller, gives a number of presentation suggestions, including using music and making sea-creature puppets. Canyon descripes the process of molding the fantastical illustrations from clay, providing some tips of her own (you can give clay a sandy texture by adding black pepper!) And for those interested in further material, the book gives links to the publisher's website, which provides further classroom activities, and to the Florida Oceanographic Coastal Center.

Despite some ecological inaccuracies, Over in the Ocean is a colorful and fun-filled journey through a coral reef, that is very appropriate for those learning to count (ages 3 to 7).

James Barrett-Morison is a college student in Massachusetts who hails from Miami. He is also a contributing editor of the Florida Book Review.

Hurricane Wolf, by Diane Paterson
(Albert Whitman, Hardcover, 32 pp., $16.95, Ages 5-8)
Reviewed by Yaddyra Peralta

           Before Hurricane Andrew, the hurricanes and tropical storms of my childhood were magical experiences.   While my parents ran around making preparations, my sister and I would set up our own hurricane headquarters, a jury-rigged tent in the middle of our Florida room. Underneath old bed sheets draped over chairs, we’d imagine surviving a flood of Old Testament proportions.  Eventually, the howling winds outside our shuttered windows would drive my terrified sister back into my parents’ bedroom where our dad would have to explain what was really going on. But for me, the sounds were a lullaby that always carried me into a long and restful sleep.  Diane Paterson’s lively Hurricane Wolf would have made both my sister and me happy. 

Hurricane Wolf follows Noah and his family as they brace themselves for the arrival of Hurricane Anna.  As the boy helps his family put up shutters, buy canned goods, and fill bathtubs with water, his parents patiently explain the reasons behind all the preparations.  The book’s appendix describes how hurricanes are formed, what their shape and structure are like.  It even has a Saffir-Simpson Scale that whimsically replaces “categories” with cats.

Two things keep the book from being too didactic. Paterson's dynamic watercolor illustrations dominate each page, rendering a lush Florida that is, yes, beautiful and idyllic, but also in a constant state of flux.  And Hurricane Wolf’s adventurous and curious main character gives the book a necessary infusion of magic.  Noah’s attitude towards the impending storm is one of naïve wonder. “My friend is lucky!” he says.  “His family’s going to the hurricane shelter at school.  They’ll get to camp in the cafeteria.”  His parents rightfully explain the hardships that hurricanes can bring.  As he waits for the storm underneath his own tent, as he watches trees fly through a peephole, Noah experiences both fear and fascination.

This is the perfect book for kids who have never experienced a hurricane.   The clearly laid out information will help to put some fears to rest.  One visual scene sums up what I like best about Hurricane Wolf.  After the storm, Noah and his parents walk out of their house and see a yard, and a neighborhood that is almost unrecognizable.  Hurricane Anna is no Hurricane Katrina.  The mess is mostly superficial: felled trees and fences.  But the scene is as alien to Noah as a lunar landscape.  It illustrates how even our mildest encounters with nature can transform the way we look at the world.

Yaddyra Peralta is a second-year student in the M.F.A program at Florida International University. She is also the current art editor for Gulf Stream Magazine.

Here's What I Know So Far: Doc's Story by Diane Till
(Ocean Publishing, Hardcover, 32 pp., $15.99 Ages 4-8)
Reviewed by Ari Handwerger

          Dogs are a favorite subject of elementary students.  There are many books for that age level which describe the various breeds.  However, the responsibility and realities of being a dog owner are often overlooked in these nonfiction books. Here's What I Know So Far, written by Jacksonville author Diane Till, provides a realistic first person (puppy) perspective of a dog's life from the moment of birth and being adopted by a little girl. Through poetry, humor and insight, the author pulls the reader inside the puppy's head.  Even the way the puppy gets his name is done with humor and realism.   (He looks like a doctor. Doc.)  Elementary students can relate to the human attributes of canines when Diane Till writes, "Why walk when you can run?  Walking on a leash is no fun."

Teachers can use this descriptive picture book to talk about the various poetic techniques as well as the scientific information presented by Dr. Tim, who is a professional veterinarian.  He explores the dog's action from a medical as well as evolutionary perspective so that the reader can share and understand.  Every page is entitled "Here's What I Know So Far" and ends with "And That's What I Know So Far."  This provides the reader as well as the teacher with an instructional assessment where every page is a life lesson.

This is an excellent choice for fourth to six graders who need a book about how to take care of their pet, enhanced with poetry and scientific perspective.  Written with humor and insight ("My family tree has a unique pedigree/ It produced this brilliant, one-of-a kind-me"), Here's What I Know So Far by Diane Till will keep kids imagining to the last page.

Ari Handwerger is a school library media specialist at P.S. 114 in the Bronx, New York.

The Ghost Orchid Ghost and Other Tales from the Swamp by Doug Alderson

(Pineapple Press, Paperback, 176 pp., $9.95)

Reviewed by P. Scott Cunningham

            The nineteen tales in Doug Alderson’s The Ghost Orchid Ghost are designed for storytellers in search of campfire material, with an elementary-level educational emphasis on Floridian ecology. Each one takes place in an actual Floridian location, and after each story, the author dedicates a section to explaining the historical and ecological facts embedded in the tale. Alderson also includes an “Estimated Telling Time” (most are around ten minutes), helpful story-telling tips (“Pretend you are walking and abruptly turn around and scream, “Why are you following me?”), and black and white pictures.

            Alderson is himself a former camp counselor, as well as a lobbyist for various environmental groups, and these two passions are sometimes at odds in the book. Some of the tales read more like fantastical essays on the importance of Florida’s natural habitats (“Ghost Bird,” “Magical Swamp Dancer”) than age-appropriate thrillers. Generally, one can easily spot them because they’re captained by adult protagonists who say things like, “After all, tourism and make-believe are what fuels Florida’s economy,” or, “I had become weary  of being confined by four walls of an office building.”

            More effective are the stories that use child protagonists. Grounding himself in a younger point-of-view seems to keep Alderson’s focus locked into the forward-momentum of suspense. For instance, “Watson’s Place” begins, “Jacob could kick a soccer ball and play video games as well as most ten-year-olds, but he was peculiar in one way: he could see and hear ghosts.” As Jacob’s family heads into the swamp for a canoe trip, the audience knows exactly what’s coming and Alderson doesn’t disappoint. Other favorites are “Mosquito Crazy,” about a research biologist who turns, like Gregor Samsa, into a bug; “Nogoshomi,” about a girl who is pulled into another world by supernatural creatures; and “The Haunted Book,” in which a girl named Cheyenne investigates the death of a witch.

            Alderson’s book should be admired for its sheer usefulness, as it’s very easy to envision science teachers incorporating its stories into their units on the Everglades and guest speakers relating them when visiting classrooms. There can never be too many books that teach children about the importance of preserving Florida’s ecology. Mystery readers and nonfiction buffs, however, may want to look elsewhere.

P. Scott Cunningham is a Florida Book Review Contributing Editor and a regular contributor to the New Times. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Pool, Court Green, Cider Press Review and Mc Sweeney’s Internet Tendencies.