Julia's House Moves On

July 1, 2020
Julia decides to pack up and move her House for Lost Creatures, creating a host of problems with unexpected results. Julia has taken in a cacophony of lost creatures: dwarves, trolls, and goblins, a singular rarity of a mermaid, and a patchwork cat, among others. But now, the house feels ready for a move. As the ghost starts to fade and the mermaid languishes, Julia puts her plan into action--packing books and stacking boxes. The move quickly turns into a series of catastrophes. Trying to retain the facade of control, Julia is dismayed to see her plans making things worse. Knowledge of the previous title, Julia's House for Lost Creatures (2014), is a helpful introduction, as Hatke turns the solution of the first book into the problem for this one. With skillful pacing, the story has messages for both planners and creatives. The problems seem beyond resolution, keeping readers in gleeful suspended tension. While the first book introduced readers to the gnomish folletti, a hedgehoglike ghillie comes to a dramatic rescue here. There are two disparate messages in one story: Kindness will be returned, and it is OK to not have a plan. Connecting them together are lush illustrations that stretch the mind and add details to mythic beasts. Julia presents white. (This book was reviewed digitally with 8.5-by-22-inch double-page spreads viewed at 25% of actual size.) This magical wisp of a story has an imaginative message for both planners and improvisers. (Picture book. 3-7)

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Starred review from August 31, 2020
In this sequel to Julia’s House for Lost Creatures, the trolls, ghosts, and other creatures who live in Julia’s ramshackle Victorian have been out of sorts, precipitating a move to the mountains. Things should go smoothly (“I have a plan for this,” Julia says), but the house moves first, trundling down to the sea atop the turtle on which it is perched, and soon it’s adrift and battered. “Don’t worry,” Julia reassures the creatures, “I have a plan for this.” She rummages through her boxes, scarf and apron signaling her readiness. In Hatke’s fantasy universe, something delightfully improbable happens on almost every page; here, though Julia unearths a horn of Triton and summons assistance, the chaos merely deepens. Yet despite the suspense, Hatke’s loose line and gentle, candy-box palette suggest that everything will end well. Julia’s need for a plan is kindly upended, and readers watch her discover that sometimes, if she lets go, things (and creatures) will take care of themselves. Ages 4–8.