Whale in a Fishbowl

Starred review from April 2, 2018
Wednesday the Whale lives in an enormous glass bowl in the middle of a busy urban interchange. If she leaps upward, she can see an expanse of blue beyond the city. What is it? The sight fills her with longing. Humans who watch her desperate leaps misunderstand: “People said she was doing tricks.” Only one, a child named Piper, perceives what Wednesday needs. “You belong in the sea,” she tells Wednesday. Wednesday wonders, “What was the sea?” Howell (Lizbeth Lou Got a Rock in Her Shoe) portrays the captive whale as puzzled rather than resentful, and Jones (Winter Dance) further softens the emotional impact of Wednesday’s dilemma by painting the bowl and the surrounding buildings in quiet grays and blues. After a tremendous final leap, illustrated in a dramatic gatefold spread, Wednesday’s tank tips over and the water carries her to the ocean. Images of the cramped glass bowl give way to reaches of vast and endless blue. Wednesday, who filled her bowl, all but disappears into the ocean, and, for the first time, she sings. By reaching for emotional rather than documentary truth, this team explores the injustice of captivity with a gentle touch. Ages 4–8.

March 1, 2018
Wednesday the whale, like the day of the week, is positioned in the center of town.Her gigantic, downtown fishbowl is surrounded by traffic, buildings, and people "flurrying, hurrying, worrying." Despite the rocks, fish, and plants in her bowl, she is clearly bored and lonely. The cityscape is painted and digitally composed in a muted palette of grays, browns, and pinks; the lyrical text builds mystery. The one thing that engages Wednesday is the "calm bit of blue" seen in the distance if she exerts herself and leaps upward. When a frequent canine observer is joined by its owner--a light-skinned girl in a paisley dress--the seed for escape is planted. Attracted to Piper's blue eyes, the whale ponders her parting message: "you don't belong in there." Wednesday tries leaping again, but fog obscures the view. People start gathering, misunderstanding her motivation: The mammal is not performing. In a final spectacular attempt--highlighted in a vertical gatefold opening and observed by girl and dog--the fishbowl is knocked over, water gushes down the street, and Wednesday flows into the ocean, a lovely blue-green presence so vast it rises nearly to the top of the spread. The whale's reaction? "And for the first time in her life, she sang."This subtle, satisfying narrative will be especially appealing to introspective readers who yearn for something that's perhaps yet unknown. (Picture book. 4-7)

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