Stop Feedin' da Boids!

February 13, 2017
New to Brooklyn, Swanda thinks that feeding the birds from her fire escape will help ease her transition from life in the countryside. But context is everything: in the city, this means an onslaught of pestering, pooping pigeons, and her neighbors, a panoply of ethnicities, are united in their irritation. Pratt (The Branch) provides a visceral sense of the problem in a gorgeous, eerie, and practically wordless spread that plunges readers into a sea of blue-green feathered heads and piercing, orange-rimmed eyes. An intervention is called for: “Swanda,” her neighbors cry in their inimitable Brooklynese, “you gotta stop feedin’ da boids!” Sage’s (Mr. Beast) story meanders a bit, and Swanda herself isn’t much of a presence—although having a faithful, giant dog named Waldo by her side at all times helps. But in the end it doesn’t matter: the story is a marvelous tribute to a sense of place. Pratt’s drawings, awash in blazing pink and orange, capture a bustling and decidedly unhipster Brooklyn that welcomes big personalities of all kinds. Ages 3–7.

Starred review from February 15, 2017
New to city living, Swanda (olive-skinned and espresso-haired) installs a feeding station on her fire escape, unaware of the teeming, cooing hordes that will instantly (and incessantly) descend from the skies, leaving their marks on the neighbors and sidewalks below. Readers come face to beak with Swanda's predicament in a startling double-page spread: a sea of birds, feathers, and yellow marble eyes. The freaky flock advances, unblinking, right off the page, bobbing dumbly in that mildly unnerving, pugilistic pigeon-y fashion. Vibrant pastels describe both multitudes of pigeon grays and also the vibrancy of city life, saturated with colors, cultures, accents, and activities. Expansive full-bleed spreads capture both urban density and verticality. Buildings, brickwork, and wry sidewalk vignettes fill both pages and readers' imaginations. Swanda's neighbors, with their beards, hair rollers, smiles, admonitions, dogs, pearls, cat's-eye glasses, and bowler, Rastafarian, and Hasidic hats, are what people might call real New Yorkers, who together represent an articulate, authentic vision of an interconnected city. Their resounding, choral shout up to her apartment window comes booming in the delightful local dialect: "SWANDA, YOU GOTTA STOP FEEDIN' DA BOIDS!" The exclamation begs for read-alouds and invites children from Oklahoma or Alabama to try out their best New York accents and for a minute feel part of the big city. (Picture book. 4-8)

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May 1, 2017

PreS-Gr 1-Little Swanda has just moved from the country to a friendly neighborhood in Brooklyn. The place is filled with old red brick buildings and diverse people but few animals. Swanda misses the animals, so she decides to feed the pigeons, unaware of the consequences. The illustrations explain why her neighbors become annoyed; one pigeon is fine, but many birds are a noisy, messy disruption. In the end, a satisfying resolution is reached when Swanda listens to her community's practical advice: "Stop feedin' da boids!" Pratt's characteristic European-influenced style lends a warm, inviting feel to the city and its people. While his illustrations fill the page, the text, on the other hand, is fairly small and loses some of its impact when surrounded by such bold art. The writing is fun (it features the Brooklyn accent in its titular line) and unobtrusively teaches kids that they have a responsibility toward others. VERDICT A book that encourages a sense of community (in all its diversity); a great addition for any library, whether located in Brooklyn or elsewhere.-Rachel Forbes, Oakville Public Library, Ont.

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