I thought it was awfully cute. The pace is a little off, sometimes slow and sometimes galloping, but overall it's charming with a nice message of being yourself with a dash of reclaiming and acknowledging the brokenness of the past. The mayor's heel turn from basically one panel to the next was sudden, I mean, closure is good, but still could have used a bit more there. (I also kind of wish there'd be some kind of acknowledgement of the role of patriarchy in the prosecution of witches beyond the obvious of it being male descendants, but yeah...)

I'll have to chat with younger readers when I can, missing the appeal on this one. (And the whole mouths being in the wrong place drove me nuts to the point of interrupting the flow of the story.)

Attractive enough, but so vague as to be nearly useless. More a stilted but dreamy picture book than anything actually informative. (And as much as I like the idea of nods to the artists style, seriously, can we have some actual examples of his art, more than two small photos in the end material?! I'm really not digging this narrative nonfiction trend where bios of artists don't actually include much of the artists work.)

If you have an air fryer, this cookbook is a must-purchase. Easy, healthy recipes (very Weight Watchers friendly!) are big on taste and interest.

Graphic format is good for this, but I think given how slim the story framework was I think a straight up comic with more visuals on the concepts and not bothering with the comic book inspiration parts might have worked better. (Also should I worry that I don't really get subatomic physics even when it's in a comic format and aimed at teens?)

It's wonderfully illustrated, but not much of a biography. I'm not keen on biographies that make statements about the subject's interior life, or on books about artists that never show examples of the artists work. (Or in general, on books that compare women to animals, even though I get it's meant to be a positive bridge.)

Not amazing, but a solid simple biography. I appreciate that he does minimal imagining of thoughts and feelings and has excellent examples of her work.

This book has you on the edge of your seat and waiting to figure out what the big reveal is going to be. Back and forth through the chapters the reader questions whether the main character, Beth, is hallucinating seeing her best friend and children. The problem is that the children haven’t aged; they are still three and five years old like they were before Beth and Flora had a falling out 12 years ago. This book was really enticing and a very easy read that keeps you involved and motivated to solve the mystery that consumes the characters. A story that comments on how terrible the urge for perfection can be and the importance or not giving up on the truth, “Perfect Little Children” shows that friendship can prevail even after many years.

3.5 rounding up. It was awfully cute, I liked that everything about the diversity was casual-even when the grandmothers messed up pronoun usage it was just part of the flow and immediately fixed (though I would have adored more than a reference to a sukkah, I'm so desperate to see some non Holocaust Jewish representation...) and I generally liked the art style. It just felt a little like catching the second movie of a trilogy, or starting a new series a few episodes in. Media res works sometimes, but here it felt a little too far in and made the relationship feel like a wham insta-love kind of deal. I would have really loved more about the demon-how did it become one since it wasn't one to start? (All I could think of was princess mononoke with the spirits becoming demons.) And the stepdad-mom thing. And the ghost parents. It's like there wasn't quite enough world to hold up all the story.

It drives me nuts when artist biographies don't show any works by the artist. I feel like the biography aspect of this was well written, but just again, the art and lack thereof. The illustrations were lovely and held true to the surrealist aspect, but still. And stylistically they owe more to Peter Max than Leonora Carrington...