Horn Book
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

No saccharine self-esteem book, this is a powerful affirmation of each reader's worth. Robinson's text is loaded with child appeal ("When everyone thinks you're a pest. / When everyone is too busy to help. / You matter"); kid-level humor ("Even if you are really gassy. / You matter"); and profound observations ("Sometimes you feel lost and alone. / But you matter"). The repetition of the titular phrase is extremely effective; by book's end, you can't help but believe it. Striking acrylic and collage illustrations take us on a compressed journey through time and space. We meet creatures from Earth's distant past (fish walking out of a primordial sea; dinosaurs) and then head out into space, where a meteor hurtles toward Earth ("If you have to start all over again..."). Still in space, we move to the present, with an astronaut, a Black woman, holding a photo of a child and gazing longingly toward Earth, where (as we see after the page-turn) her child is missing her ("Sometimes someone you love says goodbye"). The book comes to rest in a vibrant city, one full of color and movement and of people "old and young," and wraps up with a scene of promise and possibility, as a young boy gazes out his window at the busy world outside and, one feels, the future. (c) Copyright 2021. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Employing a cast of diverse children reminiscent of that depicted in Another (2019), Robinson shows that every living entity has value. After opening endpapers that depict an aerial view of a busy playground, the perspective shifts to a black child, ponytails tied with beaded elastics, peering into a microscope. So begins an exercise in perspective. From those bits of green life under the lens readers move to “Those who swim with the tide / and those who don’t.” They observe a “pest”—a mosquito biting a dinosaur, a “really gassy” planet, and a dog whose walker—a child in a pink hijab—has lost hold of the leash. Periodically, the examples are validated with the titular refrain. Textured paint strokes and collage elements contrast with uncluttered backgrounds that move from white to black to white. The black pages in the middle portion foreground scenes in space, including a black astronaut viewing Earth; the astronaut is holding an image of another black youngster who appears on the next spread flying a toy rocket and looking lonely. There are many such visual connections, creating emotional interest and invitations for conversation. The story’s conclusion spins full circle, repeating opening sentences with new scenarios. From the microscopic to the cosmic, word and image illuminate the message without a whiff of didacticism. Whimsy, intelligence, and a subtle narrative thread make this rise to the top of a growing list of self-love titles. (Picture book. 4-7) Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.