The New York Times Book Review - Michael Agger
[Magoon's] Bigfoot is hairy and irresistible.
The New York Times Book Review
Equally awesome is Bigfoot…True, his Bigfoot is hairy and irresistible. I also found his overall style to be strongly, appealingly Brooklyn-antiquarian—perhaps because the boy in the book rides a classic roadster bicycle that 20-somethings would love to be seen pedaling to their C.S.A. pickup. The pleasing optics, however, play second fiddle to the book’s midpoint Shyamalan-esque twist: The story is actually told from the perspective of Bigfoot.
At this revelation, a pleasing pop of delight emerged from my 4-year-old test audience. Again and again. I was O.K. with that. With the right book in your hands, rereading is a pleasure.
Publishers Weekly
Magoon retells “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” in a book whose suspenseful, funny pictures and surprise narrator trump its familiar plot. “This is the story of my friend Ben and how we first met,” says an offstage speaker, referring to a brown-haired boy. Ben “liked to tell stories,” and readers see him at a forest’s edge, alleging Bigfoot sightings to his weary parents, unbelieving sister, and neighborhood friends. Ben’s small dog acts as a barometer for Ben’s fibs, its expression going from tetchy to angry and then jolted by the “crick!” of a twig in the woods. “I didn’t normally talk to a Littlefoot,” explains the now-visible narrator, a towering Sasquatch. Ben looks on in shock while his dog merrily joins the creature for a spin on Ben’s bike. Magoon (Big Mean Mike) sets events some decades in the past, giving Ben an antique bike, vintage clothing, and old-fashioned camera and video equipment. While there’s still an emphasis on the importance of being honest, it’s clear that Magoon also sees value in Ben’s perseverance and sense of showmanship.
Kirkus
"Entertaining and clever—and that’s no lie."
From the Publisher
"Entertaining and clever—and that’s no lie."
Magoon retells “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” in a book whose suspenseful, funny pictures and surprise narrator trump its familiar plot. “This is the story of my friend Ben and how we first met,” says an offstage speaker, referring to a brown-haired boy. Ben “liked to tell stories,” and readers see him at a forest’s edge, alleging Bigfoot sightings to his weary parents, unbelieving sister, and neighborhood friends. Ben’s small dog acts as a barometer for Ben’s fibs, its expression going from tetchy to angry and then jolted by the “crick!” of a twig in the woods. “I didn’t normally talk to a Littlefoot,” explains the now-visible narrator, a towering Sasquatch. Ben looks on in shock while his dog merrily joins the creature for a spin on Ben’s bike. Magoon (Big Mean Mike) sets events some decades in the past, giving Ben an antique bike, vintage clothing, and old-fashioned camera and video equipment. While there’s still an emphasis on the importance of being honest, it’s clear that Magoon also sees value in Ben’s perseverance and sense of showmanship.
Equally awesome is Bigfoot…True, his Bigfoot is hairy and irresistible. I also found his overall style to be strongly, appealingly Brooklyn-antiquarian—perhaps because the boy in the book rides a classic roadster bicycle that 20-somethings would love to be seen pedaling to their C.S.A. pickup. The pleasing optics, however, play second fiddle to the book’s midpoint Shyamalan-esque twist: The story is actually told from the perspective of Bigfoot.
At this revelation, a pleasing pop of delight emerged from my 4-year-old test audience. Again and again. I was O.K. with that. With the right book in your hands, rereading is a pleasure.
Kirkus Reviews
Some boys cry wolf, but to the admiration of one individual, Ben cries Bigfoot. The opening line by an unseen narrator introduces the young tale-teller: "This is the story of my friend Ben and how we first met." Events unfold over the course of a day, with cartoon-style art providing definitive clues as to the passage of time. In the morning, Ben rides his bicycle to the top of a hill, where he calls out: "LOOK, EVERYONE! IT'S BIGFOOT!" With the narrator providing commentary, the hilltop becomes a stage onto which other characters enter and exit. Ben is the constant, always trying to provoke response. Readers will quickly note that the indulgent narrator's voice is at odds with Ben's increasingly frantic antics, and they will begin to wonder just who is telling the story. Could it be Bigfoot? Indeed! He likes Ben's determination--and Ben's bike, which he takes for a little spin that night, leaving a scared Ben behind. Youngsters may at first feel glad that Ben gets his comeuppance when no one rushes to his aid but will soon relent when they see how forlorn Ben looks alone in the dark. Once home, it seems Ben has learned his lesson, although how he determines to tell the truth in the future is bound to leave readers giggling. Entertaining and clever--and that's no lie. (Picture book. 4-8)
