With a plot timed faster than fast food and illustrations that keep pace, this picture book about a dinner that literally runs away is a comic treat. Like a cowboy spinning a fireside tall tale as if it were true, Ahlberg's (The Jolly Postman) unseen narrator sprinkles the story with plenty of droll asides. Just as the boy hero, Banjo, is about to cut into his supper, "the sausage Melvin, his name was / jumped, yes, jumped, right up off the plate.../ and ran away." Melvin the sausage leads a procession of sorts: "the fork ran after the sausage,/ the knife ran after the fork," followed by the boy's plate, table and chair, as well as his side dishes, all of which have individual names except for the French fries (because "well, there really were too many to name all of them"). Ingman (Boing!) adds plenty of slapstick humor to this great chase. The salt and ketchup containers ride atop the table waving to the crowd as if they were in a parade, and a boiled egg from a nearby picnic looks on in horror as Banjo gains on the sausage. Playful use of type size and white space speeds up and slows down the action accordingly. Finally, Banjo sits down to enjoy his dessert a plum pie ("named Joyce on this particular occasion"), who jumps up and, well,... this sure-to-be a runaway favorite begins again. Ages 4-8. (Sept.) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.

PreS-Gr 3-When Banjo Cannon sits down to dinner, his sausage (named Melvin) jumps off the plate and runs away. The kitchen furniture, cutlery, peas, French fries, carrots, the famished boy, and his parents follow out the door in "Gingerbread Man" fashion. The chase continues down the street and through a park where a duck eats Paul the pea, two fries sail away in a toy boat, and a picnicking family grabs the fork and knife. Just when Banjo catches up with Melvin, his mom yells, "Don't eat that, it's been on the ground!" The surreal adventures are relayed in a droll, conversational style with casual asides ("Now here's the exciting part, the unbelievable part-though it is all true"). Ingman's acrylic illustrations, done in muted tones, combine detailed panoramic scenes and fully fleshed-out characters with pen-and-ink outline sketches. The naive drawings of the stick-legged sausage and his fellow runaways will elicit giggles. This fast-paced yarn is full of kooky charm.-Linda Ludke, London Public Library, Ontario, Canada Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.

Just as a boy named Banjo is about to eat dinner, his sausage, Melvin, jumps up and runs off, accompanied by the dish, fork, knife, carrots (all girls named Caroline, Clara, etc.), peas (all boys named Peter, Percival and Paul) and so on. With a wacky, whimsical narrative that takes as many detours as its participants, Ahlberg's writing is stylistically accomplished and decidedly British. So, why Americanize the story with French fries and baseball instead of chips and cricket? Ingman's childlike paintings incorporating ink sketches are expressively and colorfully detailed with personified objects, chronicling the energetic journey from kitchen table to city sidewalk to park pathway and back. Various calamities ensue (a pigeon eats Percival the pea and a duck eats Paul, while the plate becomes a Frisbee), before Banjo sits down to a plum pie for his replacement dinner. More sophisticated in structure than the classic tales and verses that inspired it, this madcap riff is for primary-grade readers-and their clever parents. (Picture book. 5-8)

Allan Ahlberg tells yet another unusual tale. Poised to enjoy his evening repast, young Banjo Cannon must spring from the table as the sausage, accompaniments, and furnishings rise and take flight. The chase is on! But one must not be lulled into thinking that all is lost. Jeff Woodman narrates with boyish gusto. If a sausage, peas, and French fries, each with a name, are hiding in the park, then he is going to find them. Urgency sets the pace but does not crowd out enunciation or emphasis of each story detail. Youngsters will be intrigued and will engage best in listening and looking at the book. A.R. © AudioFile 2007, Portland, Maine