The hidden history of one of the world's most popular pieces of furniture.An anthropomorphized fox in a purple jacket and green pants stands on a stage, showcasing various kinds of sofas and what they're used for: eating, sleeping, dance parties, and sliding down pillows. Just as the fox is about to provide a demonstration of that last activity, complete with a drawing, an opossum in a gray pinstriped suit emerges: "You can't show that to children! Someone could break their neck!" Using a tape dispenser–like machine, the opossum covers up the offending image with a black censor bar. The fox continues to expose "truths" about couches: Some of them grow on farms ("Where do you think we got the term couch potato?"); they have an insatiable hunger, which leads to objects disappearing among the cushions; and some are actually aliens in disguise. The opossum is skeptical, but when a chaotic parade of couches enter the scene to prove the fox right, the opossum is forced to reconsider. This is a hilarious send-up of conspiracy theories and adults' attempts to shelter children from the real world. Depicting elegantly attired creatures, Liniers' muted artwork contrasts humorously with the surreal scenarios depicted. The dialogue between the fox and opossum is entertaining, but grown-ups might want to pre-read before read-alouds to avoid tripping over some phrasing (e.g., "secret elite couch enforcement squadron").Funny and thought provoking. (Picture book. 5-8)

In a work that tackles the secret lives of couches, a nattily dressed red fox appears on a classic proscenium stage, promising readers plenty of juicy material about sofas, only to be interrupted by an equally well-dressed opossum, who insists that the fox is upholstering the truth. The lecture is all but stalled by their bickering, the possum censoring the fox’s dubious presentation boards with black tape, until they finally agree on one thing: couches eat coins. Even this détente quickly deteriorates, however, when the fox goes on to insist that couches also eat cats and grandmothers. It takes full-on mayhem, including an appearance by dinosaur-mounted couch police, to convince the possum that couches do have lives of their own. Employing anthropomorphized cushions and legs that give each couch a devil-may-care personality, Liniers (Wildflowers) details each of the fox’s assertions in pencil and watercolor sketches that speak their own loopy kind of truth. Via this collection of musings, Rubin (High Five) proves as quippy as ever (some couches “come from two chairs who love each other very much”), perhaps prompting human readers to regard their own settees in a new and more appreciative light. Ages 3–7. Author’s agent: Jennifer Joel, CAA. Illustrator’s agent: Angelica Erhart del Campo and John Lind, Lind Publishing and Media. (Apr.)