The Good Little Mermaid’s Guide to Bedtime by Eija Sumner (review)

Reviewed by: The Good Little Mermaid's Guide to Bedtime by Eija Sumner Kate Quealy-Gainer, Editor and Meg Cornell Sumner, Eija The Good Little Mermaid's Guide to Bedtime; illus. by Nici Gregory. Tundra, 2024 40p Trade ed. ISBN 9780735267893 18. 99 E-book ed. ISBN 9780735267909 10. 99 Reviewed from digital galleys R* 4-8 yrs A glance down any toy aisle will reveal that toy marketing is still heavily gendered, and that pastels, sparkles, and polite femininity continue to have quite the strangle-hold on the girls' section. It's not that those things aren't enjoyable—as the Barbie movie's recent success proves, there's plenty of affirming (and sometimes subversive) power in pink. But what is there for the girl unimpressed by the glittering, precious creatures populating many Disney movies and much of kid lit? The one who bristles at tiaras and has no interest in singing or dancing, who chafes at any effort toward conformity? Well, this month's Big Picture offers a heroine meant just for that girl, a little mermaid with razor-sharp teeth, predatory instincts, and zero interest in being good, sweet, or, most importantly, following the evening routine laid out in The Good Little Mermaid's Guide to Bedtime. The meta-narrative conceit is simple but clever: pages of the titular guidebook are presented in the corner of each spread, advising our pelagic protagonist (foregrounded in the primary illustration) how to prepare for a restful night's sleep and thus a happy tomorrow. But for every directive, she has a refute. Tidy up her toys? She's got no need for toys: "The ocean is my playground and everything in it is scared. . . of me. " Brushing teeth? Sure, but only to keep them gleaming, razor-sharp blades. Journaling to reflect upon the day? Maybe, if she's keeping tally of the humans she almost lured to the bottom of the sea. As our anti-hero continues to terrorize the other ocean creatures, a wide-eyed puffer fish and hesitant octopus (surely stand-ins for exasperated caretakers everywhere) do their darndest to get the mermaid to follow the bedtime routine, and they breathe a sigh of relief when she's finally, inevitably tuckered out. This aquatic agent of chaos is a contrarian delight, the oceanic proxy of the kid who not only refuses compliance but does so with vicious glee. Her resistance is not simply a dislike of bedtime, however, but a clear and defiant pushback against gendered norms and standards of beauty that are insidiously embedded in the landscape of children's lit and media. To be good is to be beautiful and obedient, so the fairy tale goes, and the guidebook has a distinct focus on making the mermaid conventionally presentable in appearance and behavior. Thankfully, our mermaid doesn't take the bait, instead charting her own course with no apologies and making a strong case for power over prettiness: "Who cares if my teeth are clean when they can tear though scales and crunch bones? " The digital art ("created with Procreate and rocket-strength coffee") hits the subversive nature of the text just right. The usual mermaid palette of aquas, violets, and glitter is darkly blended with sprays of sickly sea-green and bruised End Page 237 purple, reminding readers of the abyssal depths in both strange little girls and churning seas alike. Any sort of gentleness projected by the mermaid's softly rounded figure is quickly dispelled by her jagged teeth and swirls of hair that bear a startling resemblance to predatory tentacles. Even the fonts are put to effective use here: the guidebook has a prim, gently bowed, Mother Goose-ish font that echoes its sing-song prescriptivism, while the mermaid's increasingly dramatic pronouncements are in blocky, bold sans-serif, as fish (and one unlucky diver) scatter away from her across the spreads. Alas, sleep catches up with us all, even our scary swimmer, and eventually she cuddles up with her shark stuffie and settles down for a night of sweet dreams. . . er, nightmares. Readers can rest assured a full night's sleep only means she'll be at her villainous best. . .