Quiet, thoughtful ... Warnick’s cozy, coming-of-age narrative might be best suited to those currently negotiating the strife of becoming, or even those at the precipice of it. People long out of that stage of life, however, will also be moved by the authenticity of Isabel’s reflections, soothed by how nice it is not to be in the pandemonium anymore.
Reading The Skunks is like drinking a cool glass of water on a hot summer day — it’s nothing particularly earth-shattering, but it’s wholly necessary, gratifying and gone before you know it ... An unabashedly honest character study, humanizing and equalizing, in which skunks are just as much a part of the story as people. And by the end of it, you can’t help but have a new appreciation for both species. It’s weird. It’s fresh. It’s a big bet that people will go along for this ride. In a word, it’s ambitious. And it pays off.
Tender ... These gentle meditations on the natural world go beyond a simple metaphor for Isabel's own questions of desire and ambition, stagnation and change, however. They probe what it means—what is gained and lost, seen differently or even just seen for the first time—when one remains, for a time, still.
