This delightfully nostalgic tale really brought me back to my own childhood, when I constructed entire worlds in my imaginary play, with my own country (Arcania) that had its own language and history. The old carriage house in our back-yard was alternately a castle, a prison, or a mountain (I vividly recall the day I almost rolled off the roof, onto the jagged rocks beneath), while the little wooded area beside it was a forest, and the little valley with the tulip tree an elfin glen. Children, when left to their own devices - which, if it can be safely managed, I strongly believe should be done at least some of the time - have incredibly rich inner lives, and will use whatever materials and locations are to hand, in constructing those lives.
This is something that Alice McLerran, who based her story on a real neighborhood "playground" created by her mother, and her mother's sisters and friends, understands. Roxaboxen is a tribute to that disappeared playground - initially, just a local hill with a bunch of rocks and broken boxes on it - and to the many hours of enjoyment the neighborhood children got out of it, creating their own "town," with houses and shops. Who hasn't played "pretend pony," as the children do here? Or gone into business, and "set up shop?" These common childhood games are brilliantly captured here, both by McLerran's narrative, and by Barbara Cooney's appealing illustrations. Highly, highly recommended!