Gumbrella is a pachyderm with a purpose, and nothing's going to stop her. When Gumbrella's brother discovers an injured mouse in the forest, she opens an animal hospital, turns Trumbull, her cowed brother, into an ambulance and stocks her sick ward with "squirrels with sniffles, mice with measles, and moles with mumps." Acting as doctor, nurse and entertainment director, the industrious elephant cares for her charges even after they beg to leave ("Go home! What a ridiculous idea!" says Gumbrella). Young stuffed-animal doctors and nurses-in-training will be delighted by Root's (Brave Potatoes) good-intentioned Florence Nightingale wannabe, wonderfully rendered in a cheerful, color-saturated palette. Root cleverly depicts Gumbrella's single-minded altruism with visual winks-in one spread, she dances Isadora Duncan-style for her patients-coupled with a sly voice ("The animals had seen better dancing, but they all sat through it and clapped politely"). The turnaround-is-fair-play ending will also appeal: when Gumbrella grows despondent after her charges escape, they nurse her back to happiness with the same overprotective zeal. The pampered patient's wide-eyed bliss on the last page is proof that helping others has its own rewards. Ages 4-8. (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(Primary) Gumbrella is not the sort of elephant you'd want to play doctor with. She corrals her brother Trumbull into starting an animal hospital with her, but when their first patient, a mouse named Eric, says his foot is better and can he go home now, she says, ""'Go home! What a ridiculous idea!'...She took his pulse. 'Uh-oh!' She checked his blood pressure. 'Oh dear!' She took his temperature. 'My goodness! It's worse than I thought!'"" As Gumbrella's patient list expands to other small, cute animals with colds and measles, her monomania grows with it, shown in Root's emotionally vivid watercolor, gouache, and pastel pencil illustrations as ever-greater excesses of selfless devotion. One spread shows the little creatures prisoners in their large white beds, while oppressive walls covered with Gumbrella's paintings loom over them, golden hothouse flowers overwhelm the bedside tables, and Gumbrella herself moves radiantly through the center of it all, delivering trays of the inmates' favorite foods. Of course there's a rebellion, and the shock of the animals' ingratitude sends Gumbrella into a decline-but not to worry. Turnabout is fair play, and the former patients take their former nurse in hand, having learned the perfect techniques for curing even the most severe complaint. Root fully exploits the humor inherent in an elephant with a Florence Nightingale complex, and young readers will be able to identify with the dynamics of the situation-or at least will cheer to see an overbearing playmate getting a taste of her own medicine. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted. All rights reserved.

K-Gr 2-An enthusiastic elephant is hard to resist. Gumbrella decides to be nurse, doctor, and hospital administrator when her brother brings her an injured mouse. Realizing she has more to give than one patient can absorb, she appoints Trumbull the ambulance and sends him out to gather more ailing animals. Many small creatures bask in Gumbrella's healing hospitality until completely recovered. However, she refuses to release her charges. When they make a break for freedom, Gumbrella succumbs to a bout of depression. Hearing of her distress, her former patients return the favor and care for her-just the way she cared for them. Root's perky cartoon illustrations in radiant watercolor, gouache, and pastel pencil have a wealth of witty details. Any sister would wish for a brother as helpful and understanding as Trumbull though brothers may not be as eager to have such a headstrong, domineering sister. Most of the text is favorably placed for ease in reading to groups; however, a few pages have a muddy background with black print requiring good light. The expansive spreads are the perfect setting for this effusive guardian. Children will enjoy Root's first endeavor as both illustrator and author.-Jody McCoy, The Bush School, Seattle, WA (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

The tone is light, the pictures are bright--but there's a hint of Stephen King in this tale of a big sister who loves playing doctor to small injured creatures so much that she won't let them go when they're healed. Fond of "helping her fellow animals if she could, especially the cute ones," Gumbrella the elephant dispatches her little brother into the woods to bring back, "squirrels with sniffles, mice with measles, moles with mumps," and anyone else too ill to flee. Soon the house is full of tiny patients, all placed in big hospital beds and heaped with relentless TLC. Months later, weary of having their pleas to be released ignored, the animals at last stage a mass exodus during a spectacular elephantine dance recital. ("The applause sounded different this time, more like wings flapping and feet scurrying.") Nevertheless, they return to smother their disconsolate former captor with the same sort of attention she had given them. Moreover, it looks as though she revels in it. Deadpan expressions and low-key reactions enhance the ambiguity of this veteran illustrator's faintly offbeat solo debut. (Picture book. 6-8)

PreS^-Gr. 1. Gumbrella the elephant is delighted to help her fellow animals. More specifically, she wants to start an animal hospital where she will be both nurse and doctor (she tells her brother that he can be the ambulance). Eric the mouse is her first patient, and by the time she's done hovering, he can't wait to be sprung. But Gumbrella has different ideas. Eric's stuck. Squirrels with sniffles, moles with mumps, crows with croup--no one gets to go home. When spring arrives, the animals finally fly the coop. Distressed, Gumbrella becomes sick, and then it's up to her former patients to turn the tables. Root's story has a comfy familiarity, an unwritten moral about treating others the way you would want to be treated, and bouncy pictures executed in watercolor, gouache, and pastel pencil that have as much oomph as Gumbrella herself--though only the dust jacket is a face-front view. A story hour choice that might spark discussion among little ones. --Ilene Cooper