"My Snake Blake" and More The field of children's literature blooms annually with books about bunnies, bears and the like. Yet children sometimes prefer to dote on creatures they very well know will give parents the creeps, and conspiratorial children's authors are happy to indulge this urge. However, the siren call of cuteness always remains, and some of this year's crop of uncuddly-animal books play it one way, some the other. Apart from its title, "My Snake Blake" isn't creepy at all. Blake the snake is a little boy's perfect friend right out of the birthday-present box. He calms the boy's alarmed mother, spelling out reassuring cursive words with his body, and shows himself to be of invaluable service: Blake knows all the boy's homework answers; helps with batting practice; and even walks the dog, serving as both ­walker and leash. It's a very boy-centric story; snake-loving girls - seeing the contrast between reluctant mother and eager father, son and male snake - might wish for a snake book of their own. The illustrator, Serge Bloch, has taken Randy Siegel's silly, slim text and served it up as a dish straight out of 1960. The text itself seems to have been inspired by Tomi Ungerer's 1958 snake book, "Crictor." He draws in the loose, bamboo-pen scribble that thrived in those days. Channeling artists like Saul Steinberg, ­Robert C. Osborn and Jules Feiffer, he gets the wry, relaxed humor just right. His boy is adorable, as is his snake. Not only the drawing here is "60s style, but also the printing. There was, in the history of illustration, a thing called color pre-separation, in which artists drew a separate version of every drawing for each color of ink to be printed. Taking a colored original and photographically splitting it into the three primary colors and black was an expensive prospect for children's publishers. This splitting was therefore done manually, by the illustrator, and usually into fewer than four colors, which meant less labor for the artist and a lower cost for printing. Fewer colors made for a limited palette, but the hues could be cleaner and purer, or so illustrators consoled themselves. Once scanners made full-color printing less expensive, pre-separation disappeared. However, "My Snake Blake" is a three-color job, printed in red, green and black ink on uncoated stock, just as in the old days; though if you know what you're looking at, you can tell the pre-separated colors were prepared on a computer. lso in a "60s vein, David Covell's "Rat and Roach, Friends to the End" swings to the subversive side of the scale. Its tone is set early on with a graphic display of rat flatulence surely unprecedented in picture book history. But things get tamer; at base, this story of troubled amity between vermin is a conventional Felix-and-Oscar conflict between clean Roach and slovenly Rat. And once their friendship is threatened, both friends work to make it better. Covell's engaging text addresses the reader directly, wondering openly what will happen next; and it works in able counterpoint to the bold, simple illustrations. The humor ranges from silly, gross food jokes for kids to a gag for graphic ­designers. The book is hipsterish (the story takes place under Avenue A), and hence the art is "60s in style. Retro though they are, the flat, strong shapes and funny-looking scribbles must seem as new to children as they did to everyone back when Modern was new. Covell, who is likewise new to illustrating children's books, draws his Rat and Roach halfway between adorable and creepy, in brushy computer ink. They have their signature colors: pink for Roach (slippers, air freshener, haute cuisine) and chartreuse for Rat (sewer water, slobbery saliva), which together with gray and brown make up the book's color scheme. The colors are few because Covell's style also imitates the limited palette of pre-separated art. His pictures are simple but not sweet; to me, in fact, they're aesthetically disturbing. I like "Rat and Roach, Friends to the End" exactly because I find it unusually ugly - and wonderfully appropriately so. "Squid and Octopus, Friends for Always" is far prettier, yet again prepared with a very limited but lovely palette; this time because the art is silk-screened. Tao Nyeu's style isn't remotely hip or hipster. Gentle and childlike, it recalls folk art (also a "60s thing, of course) and decorative traditions from both Asia and the West. Where Nyeu's imagery is big and bold, the rewards are great: a magnificent whale spreads its glorious indigo across two orange pages. A submarine, with a die-cut flap you can lift to see the goings-on inside, is delightfully clever and fun. Other pages, filled with complicated incidental activity, feel too scattered and wrong, however, for its four simple and young-feeling stories. Three of these will be engaging for the very young; one, "The Hat," is amusing and substantive enough to satisfy both child and parent. Here Octopus assumes that a boot drifted down from above is a hat. He wears it proudly until his friends convince him that it is a flowerpot, then a soup bowl, then a doorstop. "The Hat" is a story about doubting yourself, whose absurd ending (Squid has found the other boot and is wearing it as a hat) feels exactly right. Nyeu's first two picture books, which featured both bears and bunnies, garnered significant awards. Though she has dipped her toe in the anti-cuddlies with mixed results, she is nonetheless an artist to keep an eye on. I'm sure Randy Siegel's next book will be at least as much of a snake charmer as this one. And I'm a little afraid of what might be forthcoming from David Covell - but it should be interesting. Paul O. Zelinsky is the author and illustrator of many books for children, including the Caldecott medal winner "Rapunzel." Most recently, he illustrated "Z Is for Moose," by Kelly Bingham.