A Sleepless Night

September 1, 2024
A familiar tale is upended in a show of magical realism...and flatulence. In this Argentinian import, readers meet Elisa, a diapered baby sporting a bowl haircut. One evening she begins to cry, slowly at first, then gaining in strength. Her parents try different tactics to quiet her but are unsuccessful, so the neighbors, unable to sleep from the racket, try their own techniques. They attempt everything from donning animal masks to dancing around in fruit costumes, all to no avail. As in any tall tale, the author employs exaggerated language; little Elisa's cries are described in increasingly impossible (and impossibly funny) ways. Her roars are so powerful that characters in storybooks cry, too. "Her cry [is] so fierce it wither[s] the flowers and scare[s] away the little birds." Finally, the next morning, Grandma stops by and immediately bicycles Elisa's legs slowly. What happens next is a fart so colossal that it lifts the entire apartment building off its foundations and into space. While the fart is over-the-top, its presence is almost dwarfed by the sheer energy, color, and vibrancy of the accompanying surreal illustrations. Both story and art reflect a passion for extremes, each equally ridiculous in their own ways. Elisa and her family are pink-hued, while the neighbors vary in skin tone. Come for the sobbing baby. Stay for the psychedelic cacophony of accompanying chaos.(Picture book. 3-6)

COPYRIGHT(2024) Kirkus Reviews, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

November 1, 2024
In this vibrant and absurdist Argentinian import, young Elisa cries so loudly that her narrator sibling says she sounds "like a fire truck instead of a baby," and all the neighbors in their apartment building are disrupted. As her wails grow throughout the night, the adults around her offer increasingly creative attempts at soothing (piggyback rides, flowers, stories, etc.) until the boundaries between reality and fantasy blur into whimsical chaos: e.g., a storybook character cries with her; Elisa is featured on a jumbo screen in a bustling city "on the other side of the planet." When her grandmother moves Elisa's legs "as if she were riding a bicycle in the air," the baby finally gets relief; her humongous fart blasts the apartment complex up like a rocketship and then back to Earth, where it lands upside-down. Relieved, Elisa (and everyone else) finally gets some sleep. The narrator remains unseen until the story's final pages, where they are depicted with the same bizarre playfulness, shown along with the rest of the cast dozing atop frozen desserts. The rich, humorous text is full of similes, and the illustrations appear to be rendered with markers, offering a layered and textured style. Blue nighttime hues contrast with brighter colors, centering action while exaggerated forms deepen the fantastical elements. Dazzling and dreamy. Elisa Gall

(Copyright 2024 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)

June 24, 2024
One memorable night, this story’s young narrator relates, their infant sister Elisa wouldn’t stop crying. In uproarious prose translated by Landsman, Chirif (Sheep Count Flowers) lays it on thick: “She sounded like a fire truck instead of a baby.” Ordinary methods to quiet Elisa fail in humorous ways. Reading aloud doesn’t work; Elisa’s outrage extends to fictional characters (“Her roars were so thunderous that even the king in the story cried”). Folk art–style, marker-
textured illustrations by Camp (Robbery) portray family members and arriving neighbors wearing masks and costumes to calm her, but it’s all in vain: “You could hear it on the other side of the planet.” The next morning, exhausted neighbors call in sick (“I was hit by a plane,” says Mr. Gutiérrez). It isn’t until the children’s grandmother arrives that the cause of
Elisa’s distress is playfully revealed. This catalog of chaos highlights infants’ unexpected power to dominate everything around them—even the lives of strangers—and does so with good humor and respect for the wisdom of elders. The family is portrayed with pink skin; secondary characters have various skin tones. Ages 3–8.

July 1, 2024
In this vibrant and absurdist Argentinian import, young Elisa cries so loudly that her narrator sibling says she sounds "like a fire truck instead of a baby," and all the neighbors in their apartment building are disrupted. As her wails grow throughout the night, the adults around her offer increasingly creative attempts at soothing (piggyback rides, flowers, stories, etc.) until the boundaries between reality and fantasy blur into whimsical chaos: e.g., a storybook character cries with her; Elisa is featured on a jumbo screen in a bustling city "on the other side of the planet." When her grandmother moves Elisa's legs "as if she were riding a bicycle in the air," the baby finally gets relief; her humongous fart blasts the apartment complex up like a rocketship and then back to Earth, where it lands upside-down. Relieved, Elisa (and everyone else) finally gets some sleep. The narrator remains unseen until the story's final pages, where they are depicted with the same bizarre playfulness, shown along with the rest of the cast dozing atop frozen desserts. The rich, humorous text is full of similes, and the illustrations appear to be rendered with markers, offering a layered and textured style. Blue nighttime hues contrast with brighter colors, centering action while exaggerated forms deepen the fantastical elements. Dazzling and dreamy.

(Copyright 2024 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)