Children's book review: Dinosaur Rocks

I loved dinosaurs as a kid, so much so that the highlight of my childhood was probably the release of Jurassic Park, a film title my three year old now uses interchangeably with the cartoon series Dinosaur Train. One a terrifying genre defining thriller where a team of scientists, capitalists and children are systematically hunted down by velociraptors or eaten off the toilet by a T. rex, the other a load of talking reptiles on a train. Easily confused.

I feel, however, I may have been born before my time, given the sheer volume of dinosaur themed picture books presently in publication, each slightly more ridiculous in concept than the last. I've already reviewed one bizarre tome where a group of prehistoric reptiles are taken to the doctor. I haven't touched the frankly preposterous The Dinosaur who Pooped Christmas, nor the smililarly titled yet wholly differently stupid Dinosaur Poop. 

I had higher hopes for Dinosaur Rocks. Sure, it had that ludicrous juxtaposition of dinosaurs and humans again, but the illustrations of the dinosaurs at least looked more authentic.

Dinosaur Rocks is a book with the noble aim of getting Australian children interested in Australian dinosaurs, a task that may otherwise require a trip to Canberra (aka Aulstralia's Palmerston North, but with added politicians). Unfortunately, even these desperate measures may end in futility: on entering the National Australian Dinosaur Museum, a 2 year old Luke freaked on being roared at by a small animatronic carnivore, and fled in tears, refusing to return.

The book tells the story of a small lad, named Tim, packed off to spend some time with his BORING grandparents, presumably whilst his parents head off for a dirty weekend of romance of their own. His grandparents, used to raising children in a time when health and safety acts and child protection orders where non existent, send Tim off into the local forest, which, as it is IN AUSTRALIA remember, is probably home to snakes, spiders, crocodiles, sharks, drop bears, Ned Kelly, and bushfires. But they send a dog with him, so all good I suppose.

Against all odds, however, Tim avoids these dangers, instead falling down and hitting his head. 

And that's where things get strange. Tim presumably loses consciousness, and when he wakes, he starts hallucinating dinosaurs. Initially a small, golden dinosaur, which might conceivably be mistaken by his dog. I mean, once I ran 85km, and several tree stumps turned into my dog, so I know that feeling. But then he starts dreaming he is riding on a dinosaur, past some pretty massive prehistoric lizards that could not possibly be stimulated by any local visual input. And so it goes on...

Anyway, Tim eventually comes around, and returns to his grandparents.  Immediately he starts babbling about seeing dinosaurs. But rather than show concern for their grandson's delusional outburst and apparent hallucinations, Grandma's first two concerns are that Tim has lost his hat, and he smells like fish. He needs a bath. Later, his grandfather continues to neglect Tim's need for a doctor, instead going so far as to humour him, showing him pictures of dinosaurs and asking which he has seen.

Parents. grandparents. Childhood head injuries are serious. Seek medical attention if you suspect one.

2/10.

Classic children's book review: Where's Spot?

Here's something a little different today. As Emily eats more and more real food, and develops already-reviewed favourites, there are fewer opportunities to write about purees. Fear not, however! A few exciting opportunities and projects are on the horizon over the coming months... Vegetable lasagne in a jar, several flavoured crackers, meat, and to top it off, can I run a 60km trail race fuelled only by food designed for under one year olds? Only one way to find out, stay tuned for January 26!

But today, I thought it might be an idea to review some of the varied literature available for the infant market. I thought a good start would be one of Luke's current high rotation book, Eric Hill's classic psychological thriller Where's Spot?

When reviewing a book, the first step I usually take is reading already existing reviews. Hill's publisher, Puffin Books, makes this easy by including two on the back:

I'm not sure how to take the London Standard review. Clearly, if this is Hill's debut offering, it is a solid book, hinting at the heights he will later hit in Spot's Christmas and Spot Visits His Grandparents. However, the other read of this phrase also rings true: if you had not read a book previously, this would be an ideal start. Not so lengthy as to be a daunting prospect, yet with enough of a plot to draw the novice reader in. However, it is Child Education's review that intrigues me. 'Cleverly designed! Irresistible!' Steady on there... I assume the clever design refers to the flaps within the book, in which this strikes me possibly as a superlative too far... If this is clever design, just wait until Child Education sees pop-up, talking books, or, heaven forbid, iPads! 

The book itself serves as a salutary warning to parents not to be so distracted as to let your infant go missing. Sally, the main protagonist, becomes distracted from her parental duties by her dinner, only to discover that her son, spot, is nowhere to be seen when it comes to eating his. Not only this, but her house seems to have been invaded by a sinister gang of foreign animals. She journeys from room to room, but at each turn is met by a creature of varying threat. Early on, a boa constrictor is found hiding in a grandfather clock. Clearly a future influence for the popular Samuel L Jackson film Snakes on a Plane, this serpent appears to have either been whipped into some sort of hallucinogen-fuelled frenzy by some illicit substance, or suffering from a nasty bilateral conjunctivitis.

Fortunately, Sally is able to escape the maliciously drugged-up reptile, but is confronted by several other terrible fiends. There is a  hippopotamus sequestered in a presumably heavily strengthened grand piano, a crocodile underneath her bed, three cloned identical penguins in a random box, and a lion who, clearly finished with snacking upon adolescent wizards, is looking forward to a canine-sized desert.

Finally, Sally finds a presumably friendly, helpful, but terrified ally: a tortoise, who in clear defiance of the laws of physics is occupying a space much smaller than that of his own body mass under a floor rug. With a look of abject terror on its face, it screams instructions as to where her son is hiding.

Soon, mother and son are reunited. They trot off to complete their evening meal, ignoring the menagerie of doom now occupying their house, and thus setting up the perfect premise for a sequel, which has alas not yet been written.

I found Where's Spot to be a strong, enjoyable read, with strong, thoughtfully created lead characters in Sally and Spot, the unnamed tortoise providing good support. Where the plot is let down is the reasoning behind the hostile takeover of Sally and Spot's home... Who has sent these creatures, and what is their aim? This minor criticism aside, however, Where's Spot provides enough suspense and action to keep readers of all ages entertained for five minutes on end. Overall, a solid 7.5/10.

I'll endeavour over the future weeks, when not writing about food, to review further books, possibly even including my current favourite Maisy Makes Lemonade, number two in a trilogy which also includes Maisy Makes Milk, and Maisy Makes Chocolate Around The Corner.