The Race by Édouard Manceau (review)

The titular race “begins with a guy,” as they so often do, and soon, there are a bunch of animal “guys” (whose black knobby antlers suggest caribou or reindeer) eager to win the footrace that takes place in this French import. These guys are ruthless, though, and after some banana-peel slinging and truck-hopping, at least one entrant is ready to drop out and settle down. The race continues, and one contestant is declared the sole winner … but maybe that guy who got out and is now relaxing in a hammock is the real victor here. It’s a whimsy-filled ride with a straightforward message, and there’s real pleasure in watching these little dudes scheme their way to the finish line and in the celebration of a laid-back lifestyle (in the capping full-spread that features the “real” winner lounging in a field of flowers). Manceau’s signature paper collage is on full display in warm earth tones, with the guys in a snappy vermilion against an ivory background. The dinner-plate eyes, contorting antlers, and stick limbs of the racing figures convey a remarkable range of expression, and their half-moon muzzles add to the deadpan effect of the narration. After meeting these guys, one might expect kids to want to set up a race of their own, but it’s just as likely they’ll want to copy the loafing guy and stretch out in the sun.