(Preschool, Primary) This picture book gets back to basics with three-color illustrations, a simple text, and old-fashioned charm that isn't at all dated. Kohara's child-friendly pictures help set the tone. Attention-holding, uncomplicated compositions feature clean jack-o'-lantern-like shapes in warm black, pumpkin orange, and translucent white (for the ghosts, natch). The story is just as straightforward. A girl and her cat move into an old house and discover it's haunted. Luckily, "the girl wasn't just a girl. She was a witch!" Better yet, "she knew how to catch ghosts." Donning her black pointy hat, the witch girl and her cat familiar (wearing a black-cat suit) hop on her magic broom and start ghost wrangling -- which, frankly, looks like a lot of fun. The ghosts seem as happy to be caught as not; the mostly smiling characters make clear that no one is really scared. After she's caught the ghosts -- and washed and dried them -- the resourceful girl repurposes her charges around the house. Her still-smiling curtains, grinning tablecloth, and, of course, peacefully sleeping bed sheets are the perfect ending to a happy Halloween story. From HORN BOOK, (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

WHAT with the candy and the costume parade of Disney princesses, it's easy to assume that Halloween has nothing to do anymore with the pagan ritual of confronting our demons. That's a mistake, and not only because processed sugar and Ariel are terrifying enough. Children still have primal fears - of the dark, of the unknown, of monsters and ghosts - and still relish the chance to cut those fears down to size. In two new picture books, one trick and one treat, they get to do just that. Adam Rex offers the trick. Rex, the author and illustrator of "Frankenstein Takes the Cake," is the kind of hyperactive artist who seems to absorb the entire culture and reflect it back through an ironic lens of slapstick and high-low pastiche. This book is a follow-up to the best-selling "Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich" (2006), and it presents a similar collection of goofy poems that defang monsters by humanizing them. Here, the Headless Horseman keeps a blog and complains about birds attacking his pumpkin face for the seeds: "I really despise / how the crows go all Hitchcock." The Sphinx uses the Egyptian desert as a giant litter box, and Dracula breaks out in hives when he eats garlic bread at a wedding buffet. Rex's pictures and text borrow freely from a huge range of cultural references, to create a genre I'll call monster mash-up. One page imagines Charlie Brown as a young vampire. Another riffs on before-and-after diet ads - for wicked witches, the way to melt pounds is with a bucket of water. And in my favorite gag, Rex includes a page of elegant haiku, illustrated with delicate watercolors, all about Japanese monster movies: "Tokyo summer./Mothra flies into a sign/again and again.'' The resulting book is a bit like vintage Mad magazine, ingeniously clever and distractingly giddy. When I suggested to one colleague that it should come with free Ritalin, she shook her head. "Valium," she said. Which raises a good question: Who, exactly, is the audience here? Rex has leaned on pop culture before, hilariously and effectively: in his young adult novel, "The True Meaning of Smekday," a visiting alien takes the earth name J. Lo. That's well and good for middle school students - but this book is for children from 5 to 10, according to the publisher. It's hard to imagine that a kindergartner would understand what's so funny beyond the generally silly tone. If you're not familiar with Edgar Allan Poe or the cultural politics of 20 years ago, you're not going to appreciate the manic genius of a line like "Quoth the raven, 'Tipper Gore.'" And if you're laughing without getting the jokes, you're going to end up feeling more anxious, not less. Parents who buy this book for their children may be better off leaving it on their own bedside tables, right alongside the Valium. A BETTER choice for the younger set is Kazuno Kohara's first book, the sweet and beautiful "Ghosts in the House!" After the crowded riot of "Frankenstein," Kohara's book provides a welcome timeout: its simple linocut illustrations are limited to three candy-corn colors, orange and black and white, and it is so insistently unironic that it ends, sincerely, with the words "And they all lived happily ever after." Yet the story manages a gentle charm as it describes a girl and her cat moving into an old house at the edge of town. "It was a splendid place," Kohara writes, "but there was one problem. The house was ... haunted!" Beneath that single word, a translucent ghost floats across two pages, as shocked to see the girl as she is to see it. Fortunately, our heroine knows how to deal with ghosts. Some people might quibble with the book's gender politics - the girl does the laundry, sets the table and makes the beds - but never mind. Its underlying message is spot on: to conquer your fears, brook no nonsense and get to work. Gregory Cowles is an editor at the Book Review.

PreS-This visually arresting, easy picture book is a surprisingly powerful masterpiece of design. Laid out entirely on electric orange pages, the two-color scheme hearkens back to a bygone era in children's book publishing. Far from being dated or dull, though, Kohara's elegant achievement retains an oh-so-contemporary flair thanks to savvy layout techniques. The story is delightfully simple: a little witch moves into a haunted house, and, fortunately for her, she knows exactly what to do with a house full of ghosts. First she traps them, then she washes them, and finally she repurposes them as useful items, such as curtains, table linens, and bedding. The story ends happily, with smiling ghosts performing new jobs all over her house. The ghosts have the opacity of used dryer sheets and trick the eye into thinking there are two textures on the page; this unique optical illusion is so convincing that readers may find themselves compelled to reach out and touch them. The dense orange that saturates each page casts the whole book in a rich, warm twilight. Toddlers and preschoolers are sure to enjoy this engaging read. With its subzero fear factor, fun narrative, and artful illustrations, it's a surefire Halloween hit.-Catherine Threadgill, Charleston County Public Library, SC (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

*Starred Review* This attractive Halloween tale may elicit a few shrieks, but mostly smiles. A little girl goes to live in an old house. One problem. Turn the page and there's an almost transparent ghost spooking across the spread. Fortunately, the little girl is a witch with a plan in mind and some ghost-hunting abilities under her tall black hat. The freshly caught ghosts go into the washing machine and come out to a new life as sheets and tablecloths, and the last two ghosties turn into cozy comforters. Kohara's wonderfully distinctive art, all orange and black, has the look of woodcuts, while the ghosts, whether flying about or on a bed, seem to have not just shape but depth. Just as delightful are the little girl and her white cat, who are cute enough at the book's beginning but find extra charm when she puts on her witch's hat and the kitty dresses up in a black cat suit. A must-have for Halloween.--Cooper, Ilene Copyright 2008 Booklist

With bold black prints on a bright orange background, this cheery tale presents readers with a young, can-do witch who isn't fazed by a house full of tissue-paper ghosts. When she moves into "a big old house at the edge of town" and discovers that it's haunted, she just catches the ghosts, one after another. She pops them all into the wash and hangs them, smiling and sheet-like, on the line, before deploying them as curtains, tablecloths and other household linens. A real demonstration that less is more: The simplicity of color and line combine with the capably happy heroine to make this a whimsical winner. (Picture book. 2-6) Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.