Loose, chiming lines supply the framework for Palmer's dynamic brushwork, which creates mass and motion while also lingering, on a more contemplative note, on the light that falls over the child's face. Loosely rhyming verse explains the book's dilemma: rainy weather, inside play, nothing to do, then a light bulb and growing excitement: "Today I'll make something/ really tough // Like a whole new world/ in a different place /a galaxy off in/ outer space!" A rocking chair and a cardboard box, tools from Dad (who, with his well-equipped workshop, offers thoughtful help), swimming trunks and goggles for a spacesuit, and a dish towel for a flag all make a promising rocket trip: "These will surely/ serve me well./ On this mission,/ I cannot fail." The child's parents show up for the big launch. Bold strokes portray a black child gazing out the window, hand absentmindedly on the head of his comedic sidekick, a small pug. Bright, full-bleed paintings by Palmer (I Can Write the World) power this tale by Sheppard (What Is Light?) about low-tech play.
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