Starred Review for Kirkus Reviews (Fri Sep 16 00:00:00 CDT 2022)

Ruzzier's trademark artistic style accompanies this tale of defending who you are.A diapered rodent is remarkably perturbed by Custard the Squirrel. Right off the bat, the rodent asks if Custard is, in fact, a duck. Custard may initially look like a duck to readers, but the refrain-" ‘No,' said Custard the Squirrel"-leaves little room for doubt. Still, the rodent just won't let it go. From numerous angles, the rodent attempts to get Custard to give in and act like a duck. "Won't you go swim in the lake?" asks the rodent. "Will you please quack?" Custard tirelessly responds in the negative. It is with great grace that Custard remains unflappable in the face of the rodent's insistence. Finally, by the story's end, Custard erupts into a chorus of no's as joyous as they are adamant. With its steady repetition, this is practically a how-to manual on patiently combating relentless ignorance. Yet it is as much about believing someone when they tell you who they are as it is a guide for dealing with the rodents of the real world. Soft artwork rendered in pen and ink and watercolor deftly highlight the features and body language of both of the main characters. (This book was reviewed digitally.)A gently told primer on accepting people for who they are. (Picture book. 3-5)

ALA Booklist

In contrast to the usual run of naysaying picture-book toddlers, Custard isn't being contrary but confidently asserting their identity as a squirrel spite having the feathers, feet, and bill of a duck. In Ruzzier's sparsely detailed scenes, Custard offers monosyllabic responses to a series of challenges from what seems like an increasingly frazzled opossum: admit to having a silly name ("No"), take a swim ("No," Custer says, climbing into a sailboat instead), quack, eat some weeds, and lay an egg. Custer's answer stays the same: "No," "No," "No." At last a despairing, "Custard the Squirrel, do you only answer No'?" brings a change of tune ("Yes!") that at least provides a punch line, along with a sense of resolution. If there's any value to this beyond suggesting a fun role-playing game, Custard's serene refusals may strike a chord in readers who reject being saddled with predetermined or neatly delimited tags.

Horn Book (Mon Aug 01 00:00:00 CDT 2022)

Opening endpapers populated with buck-toothed squirrels feature one yellow creature with an orange beak dressed in a jaunty green cap and vest. The muddle begins there, and the story opens with a suspicious rodent attempting to question this yellow creature called "Custard the Squirrel" into submission with the diligence of a criminal attorney. "Custard the Squirrel, aren't you a duck?" it asks, while showing a picture of a duck from a book to support this leading question. Custard faces further pointed inquiry about swimming, quacking, eating weeds, and laying eggs. Custard is a "no" for all of it while carrying on with its day -- going for a sail, playing the organ, eating a gourmet feast, and reading a book about eggs -- while the exasperated pursuer trails behind. Ultimately, Custard pauses to entertain one final question: "Custard the Squirrel, do you only answer 'No'?" Custard, contrary and independent to the end, affirms, "Yes!" Delight ensues. The characteristically unexpected details and color choices featured in Ruzzier's watercolor and pen-and-ink illustrations pair perfectly with this story of individualism. The antagonistic question-and-answer format full of repetition and supportive visuals will provide reinforcement for beginning readers along with comedy, satisfaction, and even some opportunity for personal empowerment.

Kirkus Reviews (Fri Oct 04 00:00:00 CDT 2024)

Ruzzier's trademark artistic style accompanies this tale of defending who you are.A diapered rodent is remarkably perturbed by Custard the Squirrel. Right off the bat, the rodent asks if Custard is, in fact, a duck. Custard may initially look like a duck to readers, but the refrain-" ‘No,' said Custard the Squirrel"-leaves little room for doubt. Still, the rodent just won't let it go. From numerous angles, the rodent attempts to get Custard to give in and act like a duck. "Won't you go swim in the lake?" asks the rodent. "Will you please quack?" Custard tirelessly responds in the negative. It is with great grace that Custard remains unflappable in the face of the rodent's insistence. Finally, by the story's end, Custard erupts into a chorus of no's as joyous as they are adamant. With its steady repetition, this is practically a how-to manual on patiently combating relentless ignorance. Yet it is as much about believing someone when they tell you who they are as it is a guide for dealing with the rodents of the real world. Soft artwork rendered in pen and ink and watercolor deftly highlight the features and body language of both of the main characters. (This book was reviewed digitally.)A gently told primer on accepting people for who they are. (Picture book. 3-5)

Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)

Peevishly pointing to a ducklike image in a book, a gray rodent-type animal in high-waisted pants confronts the eponymous protagonist. “Custard the Squirrel, aren’t you a duck?” “No,” replies Custard, a yellow figure with an orange bill and feet, who sports a green top and matching cap. As the questioning interlocutor insists on conventional duck behavior (“Custard the Squirrel, will you please quack?”), Custard scans as upbeat but firm, seeing no need to assuage, conform, or explain, and answering each question with a simple “No.” In gentle-hued ink and watercolor art by Ruzzier (Fish and Sun), Custard pilots a jaunty sailboat instead of taking a swim, and gags at drooping weeds before tucking in to a tableful of elaborate desserts. But even Custard has limits, in a late spread repeatedly proclaiming “No!” while turning flip after flip. And that gives rise to one more question—one that reads as earnest and searching: “Custard the Squirrel, do you only answer ‘No’?” The query elicits a gladly resounding affirmation of self that leads to big grins on both sides in this cleverly rendered, accessibly philosophical take on confronting bias, labels, and assumptions. Ages 3–6. Agent: Jennifer Laughran, Andrea Brown Literary. (Sept.)