Amazon.com Review
Whether she's knocking over her juice, dripping yellow paint on the carpet, or ripping apart feather pillows, Harriet Harris is, well, pesky. She certainly doesn't mean to be. And she's always very sorry for her behavior afterwards. Her mother doesn't like to yell, so instead she reprimands her with a gentle "Harriet, my
darling child." But as Harriet's shenanigans escalate, so does her long-suffering mom's blood pressure. It looks like one more mishap will put her over the edge. And when that edge is reached, Harriet's mother yells. She yells and yells and yells.
Readers on both sides of the family battlefield will wholeheartedly identify with the oh-so-real experiences of Harriet and her mom. Sometimes accidents just happen, and sometimes yelling just happens. But even when family members make mistakes, they still love each other, as these two prove when they start laughing and cleaning up the big feathery mess after the apologies and hugs. Mem Fox is an internationally known literary consultant and author of many picture books, including Boo to a Goose and Sleepy Bears. Marla Frazee's pictures are exactly right: Harriet's unruly hair and guileless expressions perfectly capture the soul of a 4- or 5-year-old. (Ages 4 to 8) --Emilie Coulter
From Publishers Weekly
Harriet is what grown-ups refer to as a handful. Through the course of a day, the youngster, perhaps accidentally, knocks over her juice, drips paint from her picture onto the carpet and slides off her chair at lunchtime, taking the tablecloth with her. Her mother, who "didn't like to yell," handles each incident with good-humored restraint: "Harriet, my darling child. Harriet, you'll drive me wild. Harriet, sweetheart, what are we to do?" But at naptime, Harriet gets on her mother's last nerve when she intentionally rips open a feather pillow: "Then Harriet's mother began to yell./ She yelled and yelled and yelled." It's a situation that may well ring true for every family, and Fox (Sleepy Bears), in a rhythm well known to her fans, resolves it with good sense and warmth (mother and daughter apologize to each other, share a giggle and embark on clean-up together). Visually, the book never strikes a false note: Frazee's (The Seven Silly Eaters) handsome domestic vignettes, framed by generous white space, are realistic and reassuring. All this authenticity, however, adds up to something less than compellingAthe book ultimately feels more like a parenting article than something children will clamor to hear and see again. Ages 3-7. (Apr.)
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