Faraway Fox

A lone fox observes its environs -- once a forest, now suburbia -- and remembers how things used to be when the fox roamed free with its family and other wildlife. "As kits, we spent our summer splashing in the stream," the creature muses as it looks at its reflection in the water of a murky drainage ditch. Now, the fox is alone and surrounded by buildings. The first-person narrative is straightforward, with twinges of nostalgia. The angular illustrations, with their retro-looking architectural details, show housing developments, stylish but sterile in appearance, and a playground (spotless and deserted), along with other more tired, broken-down areas, where at least the flora seems to be thriving. One dramatic wordless double-page spread is set in a sprawling store parking lot at dusk with a breathtaking pink-and-purple sky overhead. Just when it seems that the book's lost-habitat message couldn't get any clearer, the tone shifts. The fox sees construction workers, and -- hrumph, more so-called progress, we initially grumble. But cynics take heart: what they're building is a wildlife preserve and "highway wildlife underpass," a pass-through below the highway that allows animals to safely cross lanes of traffic, and in this case allows our fox to escape into a forest and be reunited with its kind. A useful and fascinating appended author's note tells more about these types of structures, which are more prevalent in Europe than the United States (but the "biggest wildlife crossing in the world" is being planned in Southern California). elissa Gershowitz

A lone fox observes its environs--once a forest, now suburbia. The first-person narrative is straightforward, with twinges of nostalgia; the angular illustrations feature retro-looking architectural details. Then the tone shifts: the fox sees construction workers--but what they're building is a wildlife preserve and "highway wildlife underpass," a safe pass-through for the animals. An author's note tells more about these types of structures.