I, Crocodile

What's a crocodile to do when he's transported to Paris and then left without food? Why, find his own way, of course, to dinner, lunch, and breakfast. Tim Curry's narration of I, Crocodile, is exemplary--a glorious example of the perfect melding of all the parts of an audio recording. The musical background is just right; the illustrations and text complement each other perfectly. Curry's low British accent, exacting elocution, and perfect pacing combine for the ultimate listening experience. The inflection in Curry's voice, added to the irony and sarcasm, creates a pompous yet lovable crocodile. Children will enjoy this for the story and the illustrations; adults will love it for the humor. An absolute gem! W.L.S. (c) AudioFile 2002, Portland, Maine

Starred review from August 30, 1999
This first picture book that Marcellino (Puss in Boots) has both written and illustrated is a pi ce de r sistance. According to the witty green narrator of this singular tale, Egypt was a paradise until "(to be precise) August 17, 1799." That day, Napoleon spoils the crocodile's bulrush idyll. Seated on a white steed, the emperor orders his troops, "Mummies! I want mummies!... And a sphinx and an obelisk. Make it a big one." In refined watercolor spreads, Napoleon's soldiers obligingly plunder temples and, as an afterthought, snare the crocodile, too. "What a cruel and abrupt departure from my mudbank," the caged reptile reports from a ship laden with Egyptian booty. The protagonist's irreverent tone serves as a perfect counterbalance for Napoleon's disrespect for Egyptian culture, and the varied use of vignettes, thought balloons and spreads keeps the pacing brisk. In one series of vignettes, Marcellino chronicles the lengthy journey and the creature's near starvation ("Was anyone keeping track of all the meals I was missing?") accompanied by its hyperbolic facial expressions. Upon reaching Paris, the crocodile achieves star status in a spread that conveys a capital worthy of its nickname, the City of Lights. Later, having fallen from favor, the croc escapes to the sewer system and, in comical facing pages, surfaces to snag a high-society lunch (feathered turban and all). Although its plump pickle-shaped body, chubby legs and devastatingly polite manner don't seem threatening, this is one stolen artifact that literally bites back. All ages.