The Patchwork Bike by Maxine Beneba Clarke (review)

For a little girl narrator and her brothers, living in a "mud-for-walls" house "at the edge of the no-go desert" in an unnamed country, the bike they made from bits and bobs is their pride and joy. They can fly down the sandhill, glide through the house, "bumpetty bump" through the village, and delight in speed like every self-respecting kid. And, as Clarke attests in her closing note, "The girl and boys in the story love their patchwork bike just as much as a kid with a brand-new, expensive BMX bike might love theirs—or maybe even more." There are small mysteries and deep shadows, figurative as well as literal, that stretch among Rudd's provocative paint-on-corrugated packing box illustrations in this Australian import. Why do the girl's "crazy brothers" cavort atop a police car that seems out of place in this setting? And that bark "license plate" that keeps falling apart and needing replacement? It bears the letters BLM. Rudd's closing note clarifies his thematic approach ("Much of my art has been centered on fighting against the many forms of oppression and exploitation this global economic system cultivates") and provides keys to interpreting specific details within his artwork. With every visual detail a poignant counterpoint to the simple storyline, there are depths here for older children to plumb, from the "fed-up mum," who views nothing clearly through her window or within her house, to the narrator's reflective sunglasses, which never let us confirm whether her eyes match her smile. This could be used effectively with Hood's Ada's Violin (BCCB 5/16) to extend discussion on issues of global poverty and justice. EB