This looks like a cute picture book about a dinosaur learning to stop roaring all the time, but it's actually an attractively packaged moral lesson in... I don't even know. There is no moral philosophy that encourages people to bother everyone AND harm themselves. This dinosaur harasses the whole community, injures his throat, and then, after a week of trying not to roar, returns to his natural instincts with unapologetic abandon. Since this dinosaur seriously injures his throat and alienates everyone, nothing about his roaring is personally profitable. This isn't a subversive moral philosophy; it's just chaos.
Nothing about this book indicates that it is intended to be satirical. Nor does it try to teach virtue through a bad example. Even though some children may walk away from this story with the newfound knowledge that blindly following your instincts is an absolutely terrible idea, this book does not offer any resolution or moral message to indicate that you shouldn't act like this dinosaur. I find it highly doubtful that the author intended to teach anything through this story, but if he did, he should have presented it in a manner that would invite a less literal reading.
I might be able to explain this book away if a novice had written it, but Jory John is a well-respected, bestselling picture book author who ought to know better. I cannot imagine why he would encourage toddlers and preschoolers to wantonly embrace their most destructive, antisocial tendencies. Even though picture books and conventional advice mantras are often full of half-baked and unwise ideas, I have never seen anyone actually tell a child, "Do whatever comes naturally to you, even if it harms you and is cruel to everyone else." Apparently, that's because most people aren't as brave and forward-thinking as Jory John.
I have no idea why he wrote this, or why a publishing company would have so little respect for their bottom line or their target market that they would pick up such a useless piece of garbage, but sometimes we have to live with enigmas like this. I guess it's time to move on and stop overthinking a thirty-two page book.