Call Me Moby

Could the most famous whale in literature simply be terribly misunderstood? That’s the premise of this ardently told picture book, a solo debut from New Yorker cartoonist Kenseth. The narrator—“You can call me Moby”—a massive white whale drawn in clean lines, possesses friendly eyes and a sweet smile. Interested in the world above the waterline, Moby seeks to connect with humans, rendered as minimally detailed figures of various skin tones, in a whale of a way. Moby swims up to a ship (looming over the vessel), playfully spurts water (nearly swamping the craft), and starts a game of tag (almost capsizing it). Yet for some unfathomable reason—“Maybe I came on too strong?”—all Moby gets in return is “this one guy named Ahab” screaming. When things go downhill from there, Moby apologizes and retreats to the depths, embracing the experience as a teachable moment in social-emotional development: “Not everybody will get you. But that’s okay.” And besides, there are always other friends in the sea—right? It’s a funny, bighearted twist on a classic, no English degree required. Ages 3–6. (Feb.)