A long, noodly figure rides a long, noodly bicycle through a changing landscape, from the starkness of a forest to the cramped geometry of a cityscape. Text st a few words per page ovides the whispery beat to which he rides: "Hitting a bump / in the way / Stopped / by the side of the road / Up again / back on the track." Viva's résumé includes New Yorker covers, and it shows in the hip, woodcut-style illustrations done in an array of muted tones. In fact, Viva created the entire book as 35-foot-long piece of art, which means each page turn connects flawlessly with the next e glossy yellow road picks up precisely where it left off, words on buildings are cut neatly in half, and the road makes a complete cycle across the back and front covers to begin again. The overall effect is one of speed: the rider is leaning forward, the road whips away like ribbon, and each word puffs out like a bicyclist's panted breath. Eccentric and peculiar, but handsome, too.

A cyclist journeys along a seaside road into a tunnel, across a bridge, through a town (where he bumps into an errant apple and momentarily stops), and around an amusement park--before looping back home. Readers will enjoy tracing with their fingers the thin tan road (slightly textured), which, page after page, is a continuous path. The spare text is pleasantly rhythmic.

What was one continuous 35-foot long work of art turns into a nifty visual exercise and an engaging image for young folk. There are only four colors—black, white, blue and rust—except for that long, long road, which is a shiny ocher. The text is equally minimalist, with only a handful of words per page. The cycling hero curls over his racing bike, now like a crochet hook, now like the capital letter L, now like the letter U, sideways. He races around the town, through a tunnel, over a bridge, hitting a bump, stopping, riding again. That shiny road widens and narrows but never ceases, and readers will gaze wide-eyed at what is along the way: a boy getting ice cream from a truck; a pregnant woman, with boy and dog in tow, buying groceries and waving; the circus tent outside of town and the lighthouse at water's edge. Viva, an international cyclist and designer of New Yorker covers, among many other things, has a pleasing graphic style that indicates shape and movement with geometric form and line. Great fun to look at; kids will feel the speed of the bike and the there-ness of place. (Picture book. 4-8)

PreS-K&12; The old adage that the journey is more important than the destination is whimsically demonstrated in this picture book. The illustrations were created as a continuous 35-foot-long piece of art using Adobe Illustrator, a fun fact tucked away in the front matter. Kids won't be able to resist tracing a finger along the featured bicyclist's route, shown in relief with glossy ink and running page to page and onto the covers without interruption. The bike rider winds his way through the countryside and the city, all created in a style reminiscent of 1950s-era graphic art. Readers may want to put on the brakes for just a moment to enjoy searching out smaller details, such as a whale's tail and a minuscule passenger on a Ferris wheel. The sophisticated palette&12;black, cream, rust red, slate blue, and burnished gold-is unusual in children's books and is another feature that makes this title a stand-out. The text is minimal, subtly reinforcing the action. This outstanding visual treat about the open road will inspire readers, whether on three wheels or two, to pedal faster and farther.&12; Alyson Low, Fayetteville Public Library, AR