Several YA books, especially Francisco X. Stork’s Marcelo and the Real World and Katherine Erskine’s Mockingbird, deal stirringly with the realities of Asperger’s. But—not to point fingers at many well-meaning authors who have attempted to address this tough topic—this is the first picture book I’ve seen that’s a story lending insight into the complexities and nuances of ASD, rather than an overly didactic teaching tool.

Reynolds depicts scenes familiar to many a kid coping with ASD in sparse, simple text: “They are there. I am here.” is accompanied by a gulf of white space between a group of kids playing and one boy who just looks, well, confused.

And he is: despite his loneliness, he has no idea what to do to connect with his peers. Ultimately he’s distracted by a paper sailing by. Befriending the paper (“No worries, friend. I am here.”), he folds it into a paper airplane and sends it off. When it returns, it is in the hand of a girl who approaches, ready for friendship.

I love this book. I love, love, love this book. I love it because the boy finds a way to connect, and because it really isn’t so hard for him, after all. I love it because the girl actually wants to be friends, because the pair have found a common interest and not because an adult has explained that she must be tolerant of other kids’ “differences.” I love the airy lines and soft pastels of Reynolds’s  art, his effective use of white space and the natural separation of the gutter.

And as the parent of a child with Asperger’s, I love it because it speaks to my son, to his brother who must deal with him every day, to me and my husband, who don’t understand what it’s like to be him, try as we might. Reynolds manages to speak to us simply and beautifully, without needing many words at all.

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Could this be a new trend? Regal YA? I hope the royals aren’t limited to the Midwest though—I, for one, wouldn’t mind The Prince of Boston, starring Prince Harry of Wales, to come into the offices…

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Yet somehow, these few pieces fail to add up to anything resembling the sum of their parts in the book. Instead of greed, the Once-ler is motivated by the wish to please his difficult mother. He is remorseful: he plants a seed and, in the final moments, actually hugs the Lorax apologetically and all is forgiven. Protagonist Ted and his gratuitous love interest, Audrey (perhaps the only real nod to Theodore Geisel, a.k.a. Dr. Seuss, and his wife Audrey), must protect the one remaining truffula seed through a series of slapstick-ish capers that borrow the idea from Wall-E, but with none of that film’s subtlety and power.

Even the music is grating. Simplistic and preachy songs with titles such as “Let It Grow” (complete with gospel, hand-clapping refrains) and “I Love Nature” (seriously?) bring the people of Thneed-ville together and even persuade the evil O’Hare, the movie’s new villain, of the seed’s worth. Side note: how is there even dirt to plant the seed? The entire town is made of plastic.

The Lorax film has taken Seuss’s message and “adapted” it beyond recognition to those of us who love the book. Of course, this isn’t news. But it would have been nice if it could have been executed a little, well, better. Will this diluted environmental message (and Ted’s desire to woo Audrey) be what today’s children will think of when they think of The Lorax?

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In a highly scientific study, I asked my own seven year old to read the first in the series. At first he was confused by being allowed to write in it (apparently I’ve successfully imparted the importance of respecting one’s books—hooray!), but once he got over that, I watched as his ideas, like the authors’, seemed to get sillier and sillier on every page. Lack of artistic talent (don’t tell him I said that) aside, he flipped that book around until every inch of white space had words or pictures. When he was done, he beamed, “Look at the book I wrote!” Reader and writer in one fell swoop? Nice touch.

And pretty smart marketing too: once the pages are filled with the ephemera of a second grader’s disturbing little mind, the book can’t be passed around from friend to friend for reuse. So, I am going to take credit for starting a new craze in at least one second grade. Nosy Crow, if you’re wondering, the answer is yes, if you insist, I will accept a commission…

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