Bread and, Sort of, Circuses

Cat Loaf Adventures Volume 1 – written and illustrated by kat.ariyn
Graphix (Scholastic), 2026

Entering the parallel universe of Cat Loaf Adventures involves suspending disbelief about the thoughts and lives of pastry.  It’s not only the central premise that bread, cinnamon buns, and baguettes could come to life. Of course they can, in this new printed format for a WEBTOON comic. The deliberately off-kilter formula grants a sense of familiarity mixed with the very strange.  Cat Loaf, Rye Loaf, Tabby Loaf, and the other doughy characters struggle to get along and reach their dreams, similarly to those annoying “hoomans,” with their constant picture taking.  “Can’t they live in the moment for once?”

These pastries, from the beginning, grapple with existential questions, such as “What’s it like to be not here?” With a few deft strokes and the colors of grain brightened by contrasting blue, kat.aryin has created an oddly convincing universe.  The sweetly round Cinnabuns might seem to be the image of innocence, but they are actually consumed with the desire to be evil. However, they are also easily manipulated into thinking that letting trespassers on their domain go free is an act of negligence, and therefore, bad.

The endearing Chocolate Mousse Mice are not as much of a paradox. You can’t help but empathize with Rosie, a Raspberry Mousse, who fears that her love for Cat Loaf is unrequited.  Her sketchbook reveals that she aspires to design postage stamps, or “stickies,” for the Ink and Post Shop.  Snail mail still exists in this bakery world. Cat Loaf appreciates Rosie’s need to pursue her dream. After all, as he states, “I like dreams! You can nap in them!”.

The book is frosted with puns, or maybe stuffed with puns would be more accurate. At one point there is a contest to determine who can “dish out” the most puns, and emerge the “breadwinner.” The loser clearly lacks a “grain of sense.” Depending on the age of the reader, these games with language will be simply funny, or a wry (or rye)  statement about the flexibility of language.

The Baguette Cat shows up as “the one who has been waiting for an intro.”  His intricate contortions and pursuit of acceptance lead to new lead to some surprising results in this flaky quest narrative.  Cat Loaf Adventures turns the kawaii (roughly translated as “cute”) aesthetic upside down and turns it into a new concoction.

Dancing for Joy, and Other Reasons

The Only Way to Dance – written by Cristina Quintero, illustrated by Eugenia Mello
Tundra Books, 2026

This picture book is a gorgeous, diverse, meditation on the cultural significance of dance. The title is a subtle reference to the fact, made clear on every page, that different ethnic dances are each unique, but share the same roots in self-expression. The alleged only way to dance is accessible to anyone because “you always start with a beat.” But the direction which dancers choose is characterized by a multiplicity of reasons. Information and visual beauty inform all the steps of this journey into an ancient art form. One of the first scenes, in black, white and gray, is a bird’s eye view of a girl and her surroundings, as she twirls under an umbrella on a rainy roof.

Although adults may recognize an allusion to Hollywood musicals, Cristina Quintero’s text and Eugenia Mello’s picture present an intriguing and encouraging introduction. Not much is required to initiate a dance, only rhythm and a place. “It can be any space you like,” simple or elaborate. Yellow and orange shades of light begin to illuminate the overcast sky.

Some of the places where dance can emerge are the forest, a ballet studio, or an urban street. The overall message of dance’s availability becomes intensely focused on a range of cultural expressions, all of which are defined and further illustrated in the book’s closing section, “Dances of the World.” The dancers’ bodies are not forced into a rigid perfection; they are rounded, with stylized expressions on their faces. They are different skin and hair colors, wear elaborate costumes or ordinary clothes. Some have disabilities and dance in wheelchairs. Readers view them from different angles, giving a sense of motion to the sequence of performances.

Diversity in dance involves materials, accompaniment, and setting. A drum, violin, or guitar may be needed, but sometimes human voices compose the score. The motives that compel individuals, and communities, to dance, alone or together, are multiple. Joy, the hope for luck, honor, remembrance, and connection to others and to the earth itself, are all given a stage here. The Chinese Dragon Dance, the First National Round Dance of Indigenous peoples in North America, Argentina’s tango, and the hora associated with Israel but with origins in southern Europe, are all represented. Some pictures include the young girl from the earlier scenes observing the dancers; she is both audience and participant. The Only Way to Dance conveys a unifying tone of respect, as well as excitement, at the range of ways in which people can use their bodies, voices, and music to make meaningful statements about thems

Listening to Our Ancestors

Canada: We Are the Story – written by Richard Wagamese, adapted by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Mangeshig Pawis-Steckley
Tundra Books, 2026

One of the most fascinating features of Richard Wagamese and Mangeshig Pawis-Steckley’s picture book is equilibrium between two overlapping themes.  Dedicated to celebrating Indigenous peoples of Canada, it offers specific information about their diversity and their ongoing presence. It is also a book about respect and love for the powerful legacy of ancestors, a message applicable to all communities.  This haunting and beautiful testament to links between past and present should be shared between young readers and the adults who care for them.

Opening the book, the reader finds endpapers depicting human figures in blue and dark purple against a background without sharp contrast. They are barely visible, but they will become intensely real as the story develops. The first sequence shows smiling teacher distributing papers in a classroom. Canadian flags are displayed, and students are reacting in different ways to the announcement of an assignment. One Indigenous student returns home, seemingly frustrated. Seated at his or her desk, the student, viewed from behind and above, confronts a difficult question: “What makes you proud to be Canadian?” It is not yet clear why this question is so challenging, but the text announces support and guidance. “Listen. Can you hear the voices of the Old Ones speaking to you in a language you’ve forgotten?”

The student may have once heard that language at home, but never learned to speak it. He or she may have been discouraged from doing so, or lost interest because it seemed irrelevant or isolating. Whatever specific combination of motives contributed to this loss, the narrator is about to set the student on a path towards courage and reconciliation.  “Close your eyes” is a precursor to envisioning the Ancestors in the Spirit World exhaling all at once.” A reader may be receptive, or skeptical, to this message.  Wagamase’s text’s conveys a  conviction carries of strength, regardless of any initial reaction (his poem has been posthumously adapted by David Robinson).  Pawis-Steckley’s ancestral figures stand behind the student, a human wall of support, as they both talk and listen.

On the following two pages, the figures acquire identities. They are not a monolith, as they speak Dene, Blackfoot, Ojibway, and other languages. Some of the languages are Indigenous ones, and others are European. They share in common a wisdom that has created the past and influences the present and future, because, in their world, “There is no time, and there is no history.”

Of course, time and history have not been erased, but they have been contextualized. The earth is peopled by both the dead and the living, and neither induces fear. In a wonderful phrase, they have all “fallen head over heels in love with the spell of this country.”

Colors become brighter and sharper as the Old Ones accompany contemporary people of different ethnicities. The geography of Canada is revealed as a series of wonders, accurate and also poetic.  Canadians interact with their environment to “gather nets, forge steel, harvest crops, lay roads” creating a home for everyone who lives there. Filled with inspiration and ready to add to the ongoing project of creation, the student, rushes out to join a gathering of Indigenous people.

A book that speaks to everyone may address every reader, and her community, in a somewhat different way. This fact does not diminish either the Indigenous or the universal aspects of Canada: We Are the Story. We have different ancestors, and they all merit attention.

They Strut By Night and Day

Cats in Jerusalem – written by Tammar Stein, illustrated by Menachem Halberstadt
Green Bean Books, 2026

If you would like to take a child on a short, but exciting, trip to Jerusalem, this board book by Tammar Stein and Menachem Halberstadt have a clowder of cats ready to accompany her.  In a square volume filled with bright colors and enthusiastic visitors,  the cats introduce some of the city’s highlights, from their own feline perspective.  At the book’s conclusion, there is an old-fashioned display of scenes stylized as  photos, identifying each landmark, with room for the cats to climb around and across.

Menachem Halberstadt’s illustrations (see reviews of other books here and here), are distinctively appealing. His characters are somewhat exaggerated and realistic at the same time. People’s facial expressions and bodily posture signal essential traits, and animals share this quality.  The cats in Jerusalem are just short of anthropomorphic, but there is no mistaking their sense of control and comfort in their home. 

Cats are not notably verbal, but Stein captures their actions in few words, while Halberstadt’s pictures allude to their motives. “Cats in Jerusalem peek,” moving through bushes beneath an imposing skyline. (Naturally, “they purr,” especially when kind residents or tourists pay attention to them. “They stretch” unselfconsciously at the Shrine of the Book and they chase a bird in front of Lion’s Gate, forming a distraction for the otherwise engaged family visiting the site.

On Ben Yehuda street,  where a brightly lit background changes to the reddish brown of sunset, the cats sing along with a Chasidic father and son playing the guitar and harmonica.  The cats look as absorbed in musical joy as the musicians.  Cats are confident creatures; as the tour closes,  they sit on a rooftop beneath the moon, satisfied in the day’s activities.  Stein summarizes their sense of accomplishment with the irrefutable statement, “they rule,” a phrase which they almost seem to be reading as they look out at the stars. Here is a novel way to visit Jerusalem.

More Than Dinosaurs

What Do People Do at the Science Museum – written by Maggie Tokuda-Hall, illustrated by Qin Leng
Chronicle Books, 2026

Maggie Tokuda-Hall and Qin Leng’s picture book introduction to science museums is outstanding.  There are many informative and nicely illustrated books on the subject, and at least one gentle parody worthy of the fiction of Borges (Grover and the Everything in the Whole Wide World Museum). What Do People Do at the Science Museum, as the title indicates, answers more than questions about dinosaurs, or other specific exhibits.  Covering the artifacts displayed, the scientists or study them, the specific museum professionals who select and them and design the exhibits, the book is truly comprehensive, as well as entertaining. 

The first page identifies the purpose of a science and natural history museum.  “It’s a good place for curious people to ask questions and learn.” Children, by definition, are curious, and adults who need to recapture the sense of wonder that children feel will be enthralled by this book. Qin Leng’s inimitable style (see my reviews of other books here and here and here and here) is perfect for capturing both careful details and human responses to experiences. The opening picture depicts a monumental building, inspiring awe at the prospect of entering, but also people in groups, pairs, and alone climbing steps in happy anticipation.

Every page is carefully composed; the abundance of information never becomes overwhelming because it is artfully integrated. There are text boxes of different sizes, word balloons, and multiple spheres of activity.  Before even venturing into the exhibits themselves, visitors, and readers, learn that structural engineers design museums to be best adapted to their purpose. A small text box presents a simple triangle as one basic unit of engineering.  Meanwhile, at the bottom of the page, a docent speaking to a school group uses the friendly analogy of building blocks to familiarize the student with the process of construction.

Maggie Tokuda-Hall is in tune with the way in which children think and express themselves, without using a patronizing tone see another example here).  A child indicates an interest in giraffes; why are their necks so long? A curator matches her enthusiasm with the response, “Brilliant! An exhibition about EVOLUTION would be marvelous.” “Marvelous” is used here in both its literal and figurative sense, since museums are intended to provoke marvel and, at the same time, demystify science. Those exciting dioramas need to be both accurate and appealing. Perhaps children have not connected the element of design to the presentation of different concepts, but they will learn here how to associate their own artistic projects with those on view.

Several kinds of science make appearances: geology, mineralogy, seismology, paleontology, and more. Each discipline is viewed individually and as part of a whole, crediting children with the ability to distinguish even subgroups within areas of study.  Looking at a scene of paleontologists absorbed in their task of examining a dinosaur skeleton, readers will also be introduced to the crucial distinctions between invertebrate paleontologists, micropaleontologists, and paleobotanists. When an author and illustrator operate from the assumption that children have both the interest and attention span to learn at this level, the result is this incredible foray into STEAM literacy.

n a busy lab with hands-on projects, children question the staff and are enabled to refine their knowledge of seemingly familiar subjects. No, dinosaurs do not arrive at the museum fully assembled. Assembling isolated parts may take many years, and collections managers engage in the crucial, ongoing, task of organizing acquisitions and ensuring they are kept in the right place. Leng’s children and adults are different in age, size, and experience, but they also share, on a visual level, the same space and the same dedication to knowledge.

Tokuda-Hall and Leng have written, drawn, engineered, and curated an amazing museum in book form.  Like an actual museum, visitors will want to return.

Toad’s Tough Choice

Toad on the Go – written and illustrated by Jashar Awan
Tundra Books, 2026

As I have observed before, it isn’t easy to write a children’s book that expresses a message without reducing a potential work of art to a didactic bore.  In Toad on the Go, Jashar Awan’s follow-up to Towed by Toad, the central character makes a terrible mistake that would seem to compromise his professional integrity.  Rushing to bring a vehicle with a flat tire to Pop’s Tire & Car Repair, Toad’s zeal to get the job done causes him to bang up another car and face an angry driver.  Awan doesn’t waste words.  “Everyone makes mistakes.  What comes next is your choice to make.”

The pictures and graphic design of the book recall both classic illustrations styles and animation.  The pace is as fast as the title implies, but without the forced zaniness that sometimes takes over when authors and illustrators seem over-eager to appeal to kids.  The big and black against white space, and states the premise immediately.  “Little ones.  Big ones.  Everyone makes mistakes.” Dangerous driving is actually one of the worst mistakes one can make, but in this case, since the consequence is a crushed car but no injuries, Awan is able to deliver his point.  Hesitant to take responsibility for his mistake turns Toad from a diligent tow truck operator to an arrogant and threatened amphibian. When he hears the narrator’s voice pointing out that “these things happen,” Toad’s answer doesn’t evoke much sympathy: “NOT TO ME!” He grips the wheel and narrows his eyes, daring the reader to recognize the formerly sweet rescuer into someone who believes he is better than the rest of us.

The economy of Awan’s style creates a cinematic series of frames, with each one presenting characters in a minimalist, but complete, portrait. His well-intentioned race sends him past other essential community members: Penny Pigeon the letter carrier, Bear of Bear Bros Moving Co, Red Belly’s tempting food truck. These other animals must also make mistakes, but they must be part of another story. Today, the focus is on Toad, whose anxious wait for the traffic light to change doesn’t prevent the collision. Every face registers a significant change. Winne Neigh-Nay the horse crosses her arms is fury at the sight of her damaged car. The food truck line customers turn around, point, and seem to forget about sandwiches. One animal picking up his mail seems oddly oblivious.  True to his name, Pop, the repair shop owner, is able to gently remind Toad of what matters, and that, at least most of the time, mistakes can be fixed with the turn of a wrench, and a little humility.

Endearing and Fun Creatures

Funjeepups: A Beautiful Song – written and illustrated by Michael Slack
Funjeepups: A Star Wish – written and illustrated by Michael Slack
Tundra Books, 2026

Three small creatures, named Dot, Button, and Dollop, live in the woods in relative harmony. Their adorable appearance is somewhere between a mushroom and an acorn, with pleasant human-like features. Urban life is totally foreign to them. When a problem arises, it is easily resolved. Like other children’s books with simplicity on the surface (for example this and this and this), there is some tension beneath. But here it is as easily addressed as children would hope, even if they suspect that sometimes an unexpected bird, or a cloudy night, are not the worst interruptions.

In Funjeepups: A Beautiful Song, the friends are about to enjoy their breakfast. When the bird shows up, they should hardly be surprised; they live in the woods. Nevertheless, although the bird’s song is beautiful, they just can’t leave well enough alone. They decide that the bird needs musical accompaniment and soon are lugging over a piano ingeniously created out of a log, as well as a flute, and extra berries. Then they need to curate a playlist. But the bird’s song seems to provoke some insecurity; their concert does not live up to their expectations. Maybe their song is so inadequate, that it is actually a “not-YET song.”

Trying to introduce philosophy in a children’s picture book risks turning an engaging story into a didactic exercise. That doesn’t happen here. Michael Slack strikes the right balance. When Button contemplates that “maybe beautiful thoughts make beautiful songs,” his idea doesn’t seem definitive. He’s just working through some doubts. There is a lot of background noise. When the bird alights on Dot’s drum, she is momentarily troubled. Eventually, they resolve the conflicts, and feel satisfied with the results.

A camping trip in Funjeepups: A Star Wish is filled with wonder. Away from civilization, or as close as their woodland home approaches that idea, they prepare to settle into their tent: “No huts. No beds. Just us outside all night.” Clouds that obscure the stars they hope to view are disappointing. No stars means no wishes. Wait, maybe a firefly could substitute for the invisible stars, creating the opportunity for a “bug wish.” There is more to anticipate, once the Funjeepups realize that the only thing they have to fear is fear itself.

The simplicity of the digital artwork is both appealing to children and consistent with the calm, Zen-like pronouncements of the characters. I could not help but notice a similarity to one of my favorite picture books about tiny creatures with inner lives, Vera Brosgol’s We Are the Little Guys. There doesn’t need to be a direct influence of one artist on another, since the concept of diminutive size and a sense of control or power are explored in so many classics. Funjeepups join in reassuring readers that a puzzling bird can suggest answers, and one form of light can stand in for another.

But, Seriously

This Book Is Seriously Silly – written and illustrated by Ben Clanton
Tundra Books, 2026

You may have originally met Narwhal and Jelly in their raucously funny graphic novels (see here and here) or in their board book. This Book Is Seriously Silly is Ben Clanton’s second picture book featuring the duo. Similar in premise to the other books, the picture books are not only accessible for younger readers, but, if anything, are a bit more irreverent.  Narwhal can puncture anything with his single horn, including here Jelly’s pretensions to serious content. 

Readers interact with Jelly from the first page, if not exactly in the way the character may have hope. After all, someone has changed the title of his book! He had intended to produce a serious work, and instead, it has been transformed into a series of jokes, cartoons, and subversive nonsense. His menacing stare, meant to intimidate the perpetrators, hasn’t worked. The stern warning, “No smiling,” seems laughable to readers.

Speaking of laughter, it’s strictly forbidden! Yet readers persist in defacing Jelly’s portrait with a moustache and clown ears, making obnoxious noises, and undermining the book’s aspirations. Jelly had posted a carefully composed list of serious subjects on his blackboard: “concrete, anchors, fossils, chess, formal wear.” With the last term emended to “underwear,” adults sharing the book with kids will understand Jelly’s frustration. If they miss the little clownfish beneath Jelly’s thinly disguised plea, “Fine. What do I care? You can clown around,” a brief explanation might be in order.

If you are missing Narwhal, he shows up near the end, holding a mirror up to his desperate friend. At first Jelly fails to recognize himself, but he finally concedes that he does look silly, at that silliness has its place. Go with your strong suit, Jelly.

What’s in the Satchel?

Frog’s Day Out (A Lift-the Flap Book, Tales from Acorn Wood) – written by Julia Donaldson, illustrated by Axel Scheffler
Scholastic, 2026

Frog’s Day Out combines the undeniable appeal of lift-the-flap books with the category of books about animals who live harmoniously in friendly villages (for example, here and here and here and here and here). It is a sturdy board book about a frog taking a trip to the seashore. Children are invited to look inside his satchel, as well as peeking into Cat’s hatbox. Excitement characterizes the atmosphere, as Frog, Cat, Dog, and other animal friends meet at the station and board a train.

When illustrators portray anthropomorphic animals, they choose how to balance their human and non-human qualities. Here, in the pictures by Alex Scheffler (accompanying the text by Julia Donaldson), Frog wears a Hawaiian shirt, making him appear perhaps the least self-conscious of the bunch. Hedgehog carries the biggest piece of luggage, a “holdall” which is similar to Mary Poppins’s carpetbag in size. It holds equipment for digging in the sand. Pig, not surprisingly, brings a picnic basket, but Beaver’s colorful beach ball is the least to his species’ activities. The train conductor is a bear, giving him the authority you might trust from an animal driving a train.

In reading lift-the-flap books with young children, you realize that the special feature is hard to duplicate. Eric Hill’s Spot series features both lift-the-flap and non-interactive stories. Toddlers may prefer the former, but, eventually they learn that the two kinds can coexist and both tell interesting stories. There is definitely a way in which lifting the flaps convinces readers that they are actually propelling the story forward.

When Frog emerges from the dressing room in his red-striped one-piece suit, it’s hard to disagree that “he does look smart.” It’s just what you would expect from Frog.

Ciao, Bella

My Roman Summer – by Bruna de Luca
Scholastic Press, 2026

Fiction that fits into a comfortable genre, including a romance where a potential conflict metamorphoses into love, needs to be elevated into to hold the reader’s interest.  My Roman Summer succeeds, with believable characters, a carefully placed plot, sensitivity, and humor. As in introduction, or affirmation, of Italian language and culture, it’s delightful. The scratch and sniff cover edition adds a lovely touch, (not the first time I”ve fallen for this gimmick), but if you need that to validate Livia Nardelli’s story, you aren’t paying attention. 

Livia lives in Scotland with her Italian immigrant parents. She sometimes wavers between two cultures, but this conflict is enriching, not defeating. (“Ma…apologizes to the border control officer for my British passport as if I’m a pineapple pizza she’s smuggled into Italy.”)  When Livia and her mother, Caterina, go to Rome for the summer to visit her grandmother, family issues and secrets surface, particularly in a thick atmosphere of hostility between Caterina and Livia’s grandmother, Nona Adelina (Nina).  Stubbornly attached to the bar (café) that has been owned by her family for years, Nina refuses to acknowledge that it is on the brink of financial collapse.  In the hospital with a broken leg, she argues with her daughter, and seems ambivalent about her visiting granddaughter.

Meanwhile, Giulio, a handsome young man who rides a Vespa, can seem to do no wrong, provoking Livia’s jealousy and confusion. He brings Nina, a surrogate grandmother to him, fresh pasta with Pecorino Romano cheese and black pepper, and humiliates Livia’s difficulty twisting it onto her fork, as any native Roman would know how to do.  Worse, Livia begins to suspect that Guilio may have nefarious intentions, possibly engineering the loss of the business that defines her life.  It seems as if a summer in Rome will send her racing back to Edinburgh with nothing but relief.

Enrolled against her will in Italian language classes to perfect her less-than-perfect Italian, Livia meets a supportive group of new friends, each with their own personal, or bureaucratic, reason for joining her in the school.  Aspiring chef, Ren, enlivens the failing bar with his eclectic dishes, including “seaweed Parmesan gougères…made with Japanese nori.”  Kenzi, from a Moroccan family, is fluent in both Arabic and Italian, but her parents are convinced that a certificate from the language classes will help her to obtain Italian citizenship.  Livia is not the only person who sometimes wonders, “if I don’t belong here, where do I belong?”

Giulio is incredibly handsome, and also sensitive and intelligent.  Livia’s attraction to him is at first conditional. He can’t be a villain, but how can she explain his communication with the predatory banker who hovers over the failing bar?  Bruna de Luca’s narrative expertise keeps the story from veering into cliché at every vulnerable point.  “Santo Cielo!” The twists and turns are precarious, but all roads lead to Rome, Edinburgh, and a satisfying conclusion.