Where Oliver fits

Playing with the idea of finding one's place, Atkinson (Explorers of the Wild) introduces a puzzle piece named Oliver who is searching for where he belongs. Ideally, he'd be "part of something exciting" (Atkinson shows a puzzle of a pirate squid cackling over his treasure chest), "wild" (a green monster plays electric guitar in another puzzle), or "out of this world" (an astronaut unicorn sails through space). For his part, Oliver is a small, blue and orange puzzle piece, with eager eyes and a big, round head. Through a mix of dialogue and lightly punny narration, Atkinson follows Oliver's misguided efforts to force himself into various puzzles, creating obvious parallels to the way humans mold themselves to fit different social circles (though perhaps not using markers and tape, as Oliver does). Some of Oliver's realizations are overly earnest-"If I can't be me, then what fun is it to fit in?"-but the message is valuable, and the closing revelation that the seemingly disparate puzzles are part of a single giant one is a unexpectedly touching reminder that, whether space unicorn or monster musician, we're all in this together. Ages 3-7. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Jigsaw-puzzle piece Oliver doesn't fit in. He tries to change to fit in with others, but "no one had a clue it was really him." When he decides to be himself, he finally sees where he belongs. This message-first story--enhanced by lively illustrations that bring the familiar concept to life--may lead to conversations about peer pressure and self-acceptance as well as differences. (c) Copyright 2018. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Oliver searches for his proper place. "Do you ever wonder where you fit?" Puzzle piece Oliver, with a large round head that's half blue and half orange, wants to be part of something exciting, wild, out of this world. But where? On his first puzzle he tries, he's the wrong color; on the second, the wrong shape. Oliver decides that being himself is getting him nowhere; he colors himself red to fit in. This works, until his shape gets him ejected. He tries different appendages to change his nature, all to no avail. Desperate, Oliver decides to go to extremes. He changes himself, with tape and staples and a purple crayon, till he's unrecognizable. He fits snugly into a purple puzzle. Everything is perfect, but it doesn't feel that way to Oliver. He's pretending he's someone else. "What fun is it to fit in?" When he takes off his disguise, he's immediately rejected and alone again. Still, Oliver's glad to feel like himself again. He looks around and sees other pieces that, like him, have tried glue and tape and other bits to fit in. Maybe they'll all fit together. They do, in a genre-mashing picture that's exciting, wild, and out of this world. Atkinson's message on being true to yourself is valuable, but his puzzle-piece metaphor has its limitations when applied to individuality. His Photoshop artwork bursts with color and ingenuity, however. A good-hearted, if somewhat confusing, meditation. (Picture book. 3-6) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Playing with the idea of finding one's place, Atkinson (Explorers of the Wild) introduces a puzzle piece named Oliver who is searching for where he belongs. Ideally, he'd be "part of something exciting" (Atkinson shows a puzzle of a pirate squid cackling over his treasure chest), "wild" (a green monster plays electric guitar in another puzzle), or "out of this world" (an astronaut unicorn sails through space). For his part, Oliver is a small, blue and orange puzzle piece, with eager eyes and a big, round head. Through a mix of dialogue and lightly punny narration, Atkinson follows Oliver's misguided efforts to force himself into various puzzles, creating obvious parallels to the way humans mold themselves to fit different social circles (though perhaps not using markers and tape, as Oliver does). Some of Oliver's realizations are overly earnest—"If I can't be me, then what fun is it to fit in?"—but the message is valuable, and the closing revelation that the seemingly disparate puzzles are part of a single giant one is a unexpectedly touching reminder that, whether space unicorn or monster musician, we're all in this together. Ages 3–7. (Sept.)