Man, does Mary Lyn Ray know kids.
I’m serious. This is someone who has a great memory of what it was like to be a kid, or pays attention to the kids she knows, or both. Some adults—climbers, geologists, craftsy sorts—notice rocks, but for the most part, they turn a blind eye. They pull into parking lots and don’t even see the cool rocks right by the asphalt. They go for walks and come back without any rocks in their pockets. At all!
Kids, though, kids are different. Kids see rocks. I have rocks on my windowsills, one in the boot rack, and three on my bookcases, because, kids.
As Ray shows us early in her book, rocks call to kids, proclaiming their purpose and luring kids to climb them, crawl on them, sprawl on them, and put them in pockets.
The rocks in this book are different colors, textures, and sizes, much like rocks in the real world. Readers encounter them as trophy, playground, and art supply, again, as happens in the real world. The human figures in the book—mostly kids, some adults—see the rocks from all angles, and Felicita Sala’s vivid illustrations swap places with the words. Word and picture work together and in opposition, and are both part of the book’s artistry.
I enjoyed this book, and felt seen. More importantly, kids will enjoy it, and feel like someone gets them.
