The Almost Fearless Hamilton Squidlegger by Timothy Basil Ering (review)

Hamilton, during the day, is the “rippingest, roaringest” swashbuckling Squidlegger (a froggish sort of creature) out there, but when bedtime rolls around, the chance that a bracklesneed might be around sends him into his parents’ bed. He’s almost convinced himself that he can spend a night alone when a lightning monster shows up, on the giggling run from Hamilton’s dad with whom he’s in a food fight; as they pass, a flood of pink lemonade lands Hamilton aboard a ship alongside the formerly frightful bracklesneed. The ship takes off into the sky, and the resulting sailing and soaring leads Hamilton to face his fears. This is definitely prose, but the book’s poetic use of gently scary nonsense evokes “Jabberwocky,” while its dreamy, lullaby qualities are reminiscent of “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.” The vivid acrylic illustrations in immersive full-bleeds counterpoint the ethereal whimsy with wobbly and thin pen and charcoal outlines, splotchy and textured paint, and a subdued and earthy color scheme. While twilight hues make a few scenes murky, the art is particularly effective while Hamilton and the crew are sailing through the sky in a breathtaking foldout double-page spread. The often-gorgeous artwork and feelgood ending may make this an attractive bedtime story for parents willing to add a bit of quirkiness to the evening.