Ann Farina (Children's Literature)
Long before he was president, Abe Lincoln was a little boy. This tale introduces Abe and his childhood playmate, Benjamin Austin Gollaher. Abe and Austin get into a bit of trouble when they do not heed the advice of Abe’s mother. They try to cross the rushing creek after a heavy rain. Abe slips and falls in but is rescued by his loyal friend. Austin is a forgotten character in U.S. history, but his heroics that day long ago affected us all. The simple actions of a friend matter as much as the grand actions of a president. The author reminds us that we are all important. This entertaining and energetic book invites the reader into history. The characters, including our sixteenth president, are relatable and fun. The illustrations are just as inviting. The reader is encouraged to interact with the book, as we see the drawing hand and tools of the illustrator. The pictures include hazard signs, caution arrows, and speech bubbles with comments from the reader. The author provides great opportunities for the readers to learn about characters, setting, and other important story elements. We are also invited to ask questions of the story and view alternative plot elements. In other words, this is a teacher’s read-aloud dream. 2008, Schwartz & Wade Books/Random House Inc, $16.99. Ages 4 to 8.

Mary Quattlebaum (Children's Literature)
The 200th birthday of Abraham Lincoln begs for a reading of this folksy “tall, thin tale.” We know Lincoln as our sixteenth American president, but Deborah Hopkinson shows him as a playful boy “on the other side of yesterday, before computers or cars, in the year 1816.” When 7-year-old Abe and a neighbor boy, Austin Gollaher, meander down to the swollen creek, Abe falls in. “Alas! Alack! Oh dear! Splash!” exclaims the story’s funny omniscient narrator. Luckily for Abe (and for the United States), the president’s “first friend” pulls him out and, afraid they’ll get a whipping, the two boys decide to keep the rescue a secret. Hopkinson and illustrator John Hendrix team up to create a witty slice of pioneer life with a thought-provoking message: “Remember Austin Gollaher, because what we do matters, even if we don’t end up in history books.” 2008, Schwartz & Wade/Random House, $16.99 and $19.99. Ages 5 to 8.

Kirkus (Kirkus Reviews, August 15, 2008 (Vol. 76, No. 16))
Abe Lincoln's childhood friend Austin Gollaher changed the course of history when he rescued the future president from a swollen Kentucky creek in 1816. That true story is the jumping-off point for this lively exploration of the more slippery aspects of history writing: "For that's the thing about historyùif you weren't there, you can't know for sure," says the folksy first-person narrator. To that end, Hopkinson and Hendrix, in wonderful watercolor and pen-and-ink illustrations, explore alternate versions of what might have happened that fateful day. Abe was walking across a tree bridgeà but, no! Wouldn't he have crawled? The author-as-narrator imagines the reader's responses ("What's that you're saying?"), describes the story-in-progress ("Wait, I'm trying to remember what happens next") and invokes the illustrator, too ("John, could you please stop painting that noisy water?"). While all the sound effects and story interruptions, especially mid-stream, might be effective in a read-aloud session, they could otherwise become frustrating. It may not keep kids out of creeks, but this plucky Kentucky romp may well spawn a future historian or two. (author's note) 2008, Schwartz & Wade/Random, 40p, $16.99. Category: Informational picture book. Ages 5 to 8. © 2008 Kirkus Reviews/VNU eMedia, Inc. All rights reserved.

Anna Hartle (Library Media Connection, November/December 2008)
Based on lore, this picture book uses a fresh approach to retell the story of young Abe’s rescue from drowning by his boyhood friend, Austin Gollaher. The narrator discusses with the reader, the characters, and the illustrator, what should happen next and how the story should end. The colorful cartoon-style illustrations appear in places unfinished; one even includes the illustrator’s hand as if the book is being completed before the reader’s eyes. Because the story jumps around, young readers may have trouble following the storyline. This might be a good addition for a collection that needs some fresh, new stories in the fable/myth section. Additional Selection. 2008, Schwartz & Wade Books (Random House), 40pp., $16.99 lb. Ages 8 to 11.

Elizabeth Bush (The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books, October 2008 (Vol. 62, No. 2))
Truth-tellers are dragged beyond their comfort zone when confronted with many of the benign fictions that run deep in our culture. Should Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy be extended a short-term or open-ended lease in childhood imagination or be simply run out of town with a rousing “Not in My Back Yard”? And what should be done about those old-fashioned character-building tales, à la George Washington and his cherry tree? Should they be celebrated as quaint bits of Americana, told but sternly debunked, or quietly buried in embarrassed testimony to national gullibility? In an educational environment in which one channels “Parson” Weems at one’s peril, just how do you handle a legend? Deborah Hopkinson has found a way, and it’s a winner. Here’s the unfiltered, unembellished, bare-bones version of the legend. When Abraham Lincoln was a young boy, he fell off a log while crossing a creek, and another boy plucked him out of the water. By the time Hopkinson is done with the account, it’s a full-blown adventure, fraught with derring-do, loyal friendship, raging rapids, a nation’s future saved by a hair, and even a moral. Or two. But isn’t that (gasp!) brazen embroidery? Doesn’t it involve (horrors!) imagined dialogue? Aren’t the details (oh, woe!) unverifiable? Sure. The fun and illumination come in when Hopkinson and Hendrix let readers in on the entire tale-making process, demonstrating how the tellers’ craft turns observation and rumor into story. Hopkinson first invites readers into sensory participation: “Don’t you feel like sticking your toes into that rushing water? That’s Knob Creek.” Next she introduces her two protagonists, Abraham Lincoln (“He’ll grow up to become our sixteenth president”) and Austin Gollaher (“Now I can just hear you grumblin’, ‘Who? That feller isn’t in my history book’”). Then it’s on with the story. The two boys head for the creek, warned by Abe’s mom that the water’s high. Abe dares Austin to cross on a log. He does, against his better judgment. (“Let’s all clap together: Austin made it!”). Abe follows, slips . . . . Hopkinson brings the action to a screeching halt and, remarking on the unlikelihood that the boys would be walking across a precarious and slippery log, replays the scene with them crawling. She strings out the mock tension for all it’s worth but admits all along that none of it may have gone down quite like she describes: “For that’s the thing about history—if you weren’t there, you can’t know for sure.” Hendrix ably matches Hopkinson hyperbole for hyperbole, prevarication for prevarication. His hand and paintbrush make several appearances along the unfinished edges of the lush green and blue Kentucky watercolor landscapes, reminding readers that the artist’s as well as the author’s vision is purposefully shaping the story as it unfolds. When Hopkinson decides to restage the log crossing, Hendrix obligingly supplies a huge signboard that blocks a double-page spread with the banner “Hold on one minute!” When Hopkinson can’t settle on the exact method Austin used to save his buddy, she turns things over to Hendrix’s hand and No. 2 pencil, which sketch several possible retrievals via, variously, shirttail, sycamore branch, and fishing pole. At one breath-bating moment, Hendrix actually jeopardizes the rescue by rendering a creek so tumultuous that it stifles the drowning boy’s cries and impels Hopkinson to demand, “John, could you please stop painting that noisy water?” And when Hendrix, ever the straight man setting up the joke, attempts to paint the homespun Gollaher in among the august president’s think tank, Hopkinson is johnny-on-the-spot with a redirect: “Put him back by Knob Creek where he belongs.” Truth—or at least some reasonable version of it—prevails. A short opening note cites the sources for the story, as told by Gollaher long after the event, and there isn’t much else to go on. Hopkinson knows that kids will ache to connect a daring rescue with a lifelong friendship and a heroic statesman, but it just can’t be done, “for the truth is, Abe and Austin never do meet again.” All that history will allow is acknowledgment that the boys, grown into men, will think and speak of each other again with fondness. Ah, well, if you can’t have an epic ending, can you at least have a moral? Hopkinson proposes a couple of possibilities: “Listen to your mother and don’t go near any swollen creeks.” Or if that won’t do (“A mite weak, perhaps? Like Abe, a bit thin?”), try “What we do matters, even if we don’t end up in history books.” If you ask a listener, particularly one who’s embellished a tale or two him- or herself, you’ll probably be advised to quit looking for a message. Two kids in a scrape makes a great story, and so what if one becomes a president? Review Code: R* -- Recommended. A book of special distinction. (c) Copyright 2006, The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. 2008, Schwartz & Wade, 32p., $19.99 and $16.99. Ages 7-10 yrs.

Horn Book (The Horn Book Guide, Spring 2009)
Lincoln himself would be hard-pressed to beat Hopkinson's considerable skill in recounting this incident from childhood, in which his friend saved him from drowning. Metafictive elements (Hopkinson's personal comments, Hendrix's illustrations in situ on the drawing board) provide immediacy. Best of all, Hopkinson addresses the unknowns: "For that's the thing about history--if you weren't there, you can't know for sure." Category: Picture Books. 2008, Random/Schwartz & Wade, 40pp, 16.99, 19.99. Ages 4 to 9. Rating: 2: Superior, well above average.