In a new school year, Zimdalamashkermishkada worries about the length of his name, which "trips [him] up every morning, like long shoelaces that always come undone." The art literalizes this metaphor as a length of orange cord winding its way around Zimdalamashkermishkada, morphing into forms of worry that arise when he needs to say his name. The school day is heavy with occasions to avoid doing so, but after school, white classmate Elly extends a friendly invitation to the skateboard park, where a gradual mutual exchange unfolds in which Elly demonstrates the skating tricks and Zimdalamashkermishkada teaches her the syllables in his name. The orange cord turns into a bird, soaring around the new friends as the story finds a satisfying crescendo. While the idea of a child's worry about a name is familiar, this story shines in its gentle insistence that, with time and practice, we can learn new things d that there's nothing like a trusty friend. The art and language are lovely, with details to note with repeated readings.

Names matter.Zimdalamashkermishkada might be a mouthful, and it may even trip up the bearer of the name. It definitely means that the young South Asian boy will keep trying to shorten his name. But every time he does that, introducing himself by the nickname Zim, his emotions roil, making him realize that something isn't right. Thus begins a journey for Zimdalamashkermishkada to fit his name, and himself, into his new school and with his new friend Elly (light-skinned with red hair). Setting itself apart from the slew of recent picture books that explore names from different cultural heritages, this one sees its protagonist come to appreciate his name on his own instead of seeking answers from an adult. The narrative offers the child agency, letting him work out his identity on his own with a bit of help from friends and family. The illustrations are warm, dominated by hues of green and orange. Both art and text use metaphors deftly, a bird slowly appearing as Zimdalamashkermishkada learns to embrace his name; the bird soars, huge and proud, by book's end. The writing pops in the moments that break down how Zimdalamashkermishkada feels, especially as he "fold[s]" and "unfolds" his name, like origami. (This book was reviewed digitally.)An insightful tale that digs deep into names-an inherent part of identity-and the emotions attached to them. (Picture book. 4-6)

K-Gr 3— The opening line, and one that must rehearsed so that it will ring out at story hours, is "My name is Zimdalamashkermishkada." Zim, as he decides he should be called, is very shy about how much space his name takes up. It is a name like "shoelaces that trip" him up every day and he needs a name he can "catch with one hand" in the air. The poetry of Parappukkaran's text shows that this is a problem long considered, and readers will be rooting for Zimdalamashkermishkada from the very first page. In Pereira's graceful illustrations, he is a boy with a flop of black hair, warm brown skin, in shorts and chunky brown shoes, who watches birds eat seeds and seems in every way kind. But shrinking his name in the dryer does not work, nor does folding it up like origami, and in one moment, it blows up like a puffer fish. Only by practicing his skateboard turns with new friend Elly, as she, in parallel, practices the twists and turns of his name, can he step up and embrace fully his moniker. Spelling it out here makes it seem much clumsier than it is handled in the lilting text, which trusts readers with the subtext of a blossoming understanding between the two. There is also a sweet subplot of pastry cooking taking place in Zim's home that may give way to classroom demonstrations. VERDICT For intercultural sharing, for awakening compassion, for tending empathy, or the SEL shelves, this story has many uses and should not be missed.— Kimberly Olson Fakih