Spirin brings his lush, luminous art to the Russian master's strange tale of a lost dog. Rescued by a stranger, Kashtanka is brought to a new home, which she shares with a goose, white cat and pig-all performers in a circus. The dog, too, begins to learn tricks and games, but the novelty of her new life is tempered by her nostalgia for her first home, with a cabinetmaker's family. When the cabinetmaker and his son attend the circus on the night of Kashtanka's debut, the dog must choose her destiny. Trading the saturated spreads and highly wrought borders of his recent works (The Nose; The Children of Lir) for full-page watercolors faced by vignettes and asymmetrical silhouettes, Spirin breathes movement into the pages. Perspectives shift rapidly, subtly conveying Kashtanka the dog's disorientation. Without cashing in on the buffoonery that hovers just beneath the surface of the text, Spirin captures the camaraderie among the animal friends. Kashtanka's new life is presented as an almost surreally solemn carnival whereas her old life, wrapped in misty snow and woodshavings, has the ethereal quality of a dream. Ages 8-up. (Sept.)

Gr 3-7-- Kashtanka is a small, rusty-red ``half dachshund and half mutt.'' On a freezing Moscow day she gets separated from her master (an alcoholic cabinetmaker), and is adopted by a stranger who turns out to be a circus clown. Kashtanka meets the pig, goose, and cat performers the new master has trained, and learns tricks herself. Life seems good, but at her circus debut the cabinetmaker's son recognizes Kashtanka and she runs to his call. Following them home, her interlude with the circus master and his retinue ``. . .now seemed to her like a long, confused dream.'' Young readers who expect strict logic in stories may also be confused; the cabinetmaker treats Kashtanka harshly and barely feeds her, while the circus trainer is kind and the dog enjoys learning tricks. But the charm of the tale (in a masterly translation) lies in its dog's-eye view of the world. From that perspective, her dogged, illogical loyalty to her original family makes perfect sense. The sophisticated appeal of Chekhov's prose is matched by Moser's watercolors. As usual, simplicity, elegance, and drama characterize these pictures. Closeup portraits of the animals are particularly striking. Although standard picture-book audiences might find this title too subtle, for slightly older readers (and literature-loving parents) it's a dog story with a difference. --Patricia Dooley, University of Washington, Seattle