Instructional Jam

How Not to Make a Jelly Sandwich – written and illustrated by Ross Burach
Scholastic Press, 2026

There are an endless number of projects that demand instructions for adult readers. For children, some of these may seem quite pointless. Ross Burach’s How Not to Make a Jelly Sandwich gets right to the point, providing clear guidelines for the preparation of a culinary favorite. There is not even any peanut butter here, just jelly, apparently grape or maybe strawberry. There is a determined little girl, and some animals to help.

Starting from the beginning, she draws plans on an architect’s planning board. Nothing will be taken for granted. There are only “five simple steps,” cutting out grownup nonsense about specialized qualities of the ingredients. She begins with a trip to the supermarket, where she purchases scuba diving equipment and bread, distributing the latter to some ducks in a pond. The series of detours in making a sandwich are a kind of parody of self-important instructional literature. For kids, they are just funny.

The next step is bathing a dog (other children’s authors have also handled the pet-bathing conundrum), followed by directing a medieval pageant. It may seem like a digression, but the dog’s tail will become a jam knife. Here is where spectacle becomes part of the sandwich preparation, involving placing bread and jelly on the tips of the knights’ lances. Since cultivating the right attitude is often considered essential, the girl uses positive reinforcement with hamsters, who will employ their unicycles to cut the sandwich in half. Seemingly useless activities often have an ultimate goal, especially to children.

The reward for all of these focused series of actions is a jelly-sandwich eating event, including everyone who has helped, or temporarily hindered, the sandwich construction. Returning to the title, with its “Not” inserted between “How” and “to,” according to the author information on the back cover, the author is having ironic fun with a typical school assignment. How much room for creativity is available when listing instructions on demand? Backmatter offers some more unorthodox suggestions for sandwich prep, and children will undoubtedly come up with more.

Subject to Change

Ruthie – written and illustrated by Esmé Shapiro
Tundra Books, 2026

It’s impossible to mistake a book by Esmé Shapiro with the work of any other artist (I’ve reviewed her work here and here and here). Her odd, rounded, comically proportioned figures, their quirky thoughts put into the perfect words, as well as the underlying premise of Shapiro’s universe, are all there. (Her pictures in this book are rendered in gouache, watercolor, colored pencils, and collage.) Life is strange, funny, poignant, and always suitable to be made into art.  In Ruthie, a haughty dog believes that he is a prince. Just look at this pet’s bedroom, with its pink-ribboned canopy and fancy vanity.  Royal pictures adorn the walls and a crown, perhaps paper, sits next to brush and hair ornaments. A picture book, left carelessly open, on the floor, features a castle and dragon. Someone must be in charge of picking up this mess, but it’s not the monarch himself.

Ruthie lives in a smallish castle, resembling a brick house. Through the window we can see Ruthie’s human queen, the same one who feeds and grooms him, taking care of his every need. Ruth imperiously identifies some of his favorite objects: bone, fish, and three-year old piece of cake.  This is the only tone he knows how to adopt when communicating his needs. 

There are some disadvantages to her living arrangement. The responsive and super-competent queen sometimes keeps Ruthie on a short leash. The dog-prince suspects that there may be experiences which he is missing, such as a parade given in her honor, but freedom is inconsistent with instantly available blueberry pancakes and a relaxing bath.

Preaching is not part of Shapiro’s vocabulary. When Ruthie breaks loose, he is initially thrilled with the possibilities, but soon he is covered with mud. Strangely, the animals he meets don’t recognize his authority. But explaining his predicament to a, naturally, wise owl, Ruthie finally has the means to return from his Oz-like journey, back to the safety of the person who loves him unconditionally. He even recognizes that, in his quest to get rid of the mud, he has  made “a new friend or two.”

Starring Cecilia

The Curious Life of Cecilia Payne – written by Laura Alary, illustrated by Yas Imamura
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2026

Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin: her name has the ring of poetry.  Before she married Russian scientist Sergei Gaposchkin, she was Cecilia Payne, a brilliant and curious young woman born in the U.K., who later emigrated to the U.S. to pursue studies at Harvard.  In Laura Alary and Yas Imamura’s picture book biography (I previously reviewed an Imamura book here), Cecilia Payne’s intellectual gifts and incredible persistence pave the way to her unlikely success as an astrophysicist in an era when women confronted almost insurmountable obstacles.  The adjective of the title refers both to Payne’s inquiring mind, and to the way that her distinguished career evolved.

The book begins with a significant statement: “When she was eight years old, Cecilia Payne discovered she was a scientist.” Alary asserts that Cecilia knew this essential fact, not merely an aspiration, about herself.  Yet she begins at ground level, only later pursuing the stars. At first, Cecilia notices a bee orchid, a flower that, according to her mother, did not grow in England.  The scientific method begins to form in her mind, like the bee enclosed in this flower.  She continues to examine the flower, but also promises herself that she will not allow herself to become discouraged by resistance to her ideas.

The qualities that drew Cecilia to the study of nature contrast with the social expectations surrounding her.  When other children see “twinkling diamonds” in the heavens, she is compelled to determine the actual substance and origin of these beautiful visions.Fortunately, a teacher promotes Cecilia’s scientific literacy, but she encounters setbacks when her family moves to London, where, in a new school,  she is isolated by her singular love of knowledge. Imamura’s picture captures both this potentially destructive social deficit, as well as Cecilia’s healthy response. Seated at her desk, she is the only girl looking, not distracted, but intently focused. A group of girls observe her drawing natural objects, but their apparent disapproval cannot dissuade Cecilia from her purpose.

If childhood disdain is difficult, the adult version can be even worse. Arriving at Cambridge University, Payne is thrilled to be in the midst of possibilities.  Knowledge is not limited to what is immediately visible.  Against a background of male profiles, Imamura envisions a young woman who believes herself to be part of this world, but problems will emerge. Soon she be observing the skies with a telescope, but on the planet earth, men make the rules.  Forced to sit by herself in a lecture hall filled with arrogant male scholars, Payne’s determination is forged even further by adversity. Imamura’s quiet depiction of this scene is free of overt drama, but clearly sends a message about the reality that Payne will repeatedly confront.

Arriving at Harvard, Payne finds both the proverbial room of one’s own, and the support of other women scientists, but also, a thick layer of disdain beneath the hypocritical veneer of hypocrisy.  Imamura’s vision of this phenomenon is perfect. Attempting to explain to her male colleagues her revolutionary hypothesis about the true substance of stars, she is subjected to Harvard mansplaining. One distinguished perpetrator smokes his pipe and looks away, as if her ideas don’t even merit attention. Another stares into a book, while a third, gesturing with his hands for emphasis, informs her that she is wrong. In a later scene of understated triumph, Payne engages with her students, encouraging their questions and treating them with respect.

There are many excellent picture books about women in the sciences (for example, I have previously reviewed biographies of Emmy Noether, Lise Meitner, and Rosalind Franklin).  Brilliance and determination are not always enough to assure fairness.  The detailed backmatter of The Curious Life of Cecilia Payne  offers clarification about her life, times, and successful career, with Imamura’s beautiful illustrations complementing the information, as it does everywhere in this outstanding and inspiring book. 

More Books for Purim

Today I Am a Hamantasch: A Poem for Purim – written and illustrated by Varda Livney
PJ Library, 2026

Purim Possibilities – written by Barbara Kimmel, illustrated by Irina Avgustinovich
PJ Library, 2026

In addition to the Purim board book I reviewed last week, here are two more Purim board books, all from PJ Library; these emphasize the flexibility of who you are on the holiday of Purim. Today I Am a Hamantasch is small, square, scaled to young children’s hands. They may have different ideas for Purim costumes, changing their minds several times before their final decision.

The child in the book is actually a rotating cast of animals: bunny, mouse, cat. She begins as the iconic three-cornered pastry, and then becomes a tree. The sequence seems random. There are cut-out holes on several pages through which the reader can see the animals changing costumes. Queen Esther, of course, is lovely in her pink dress, crown, and proud six-pointed star scepter. There is an interlude, where the bunny decides to just be herself, wearing overalls. Then back to the costumes. The mermaid, again, is a not derived from the Purim story, but the grogger, a noisemaker activated every time the villain, Haman’s, name is mentioned, is key to the Megillat Esther. Back to a cupcake, and to a kitten happy to be herself. If you feel dizzy reading it, that’s to be expected. Purim as a day when norms are reversed, but, finally, the holiday ends and “we’ll all be back to normal.” That’s a relief, maybe.

Purim Possibilities also emphasizes the freedom of temporary change. It begins with a lively scene of the Megillat Esther reading, with the scroll unrolled and held at each end by a young girl. Then we experience the same series of choices, but this time the protagonist is identifiably human. She may impersonate a train engineer, a robot, a superhero, or a baker. Then again, Queen Esther is as heroic as may be imagined, fearless in her glittery outfit. Artistic creativity is part of the story, with colored pencils available to sketch the costumes. Finally, the young artist decides on an eclectic combination of elements. Sometimes you don’t have to make a choice. The book concludes with a selection of outfits as reusable stickers, to be removed from a closet and placed on the girl. Anything seems possible in these two books.

Seasons of Words

Poems for Every Season: A Year of Haiku, Sonnets, and More – written by Bette Westera, illustrated by Henriette Boerendans, translated from the Dutch by David Colmer
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2026

Poems for Every Season is tranquil, beautiful, and also, thorough. There are many excellent illustrated anthologies of poetry for young people (here, for example), and also manuals for how to compose specific types of poetry. Often these how-to books are also anthologies with representative examples of verse forms. Bette Westera, Henriette Boerendans, and translator David Colmer have produced an exceptional book of wonder, for those who are drawn to poetry as well as readers who are tentative about exploring it.

The book’s endpapers open with a flock of birds. Boerendans’s woodcuts embed poems in the world of nature, and the birds seem to be inviting readers to enter this environment, where poems and pictures are more than the sum of their parts. (A brief and useful preface explains how the author and translator have adapted the choice of verse forms to reflect differences between Dutch and English.). Each section begins with the name of the season in large font, placed vertically down the side of one page.

The seasonal page and poem are followed by a page identifying the month, in larger font. This is one of several interesting artistic choices which are not obvious. Do months require more attention than seasons? The variety ensures that reader experience each page and poem as something new.

The animals and plants that share the space of the book each belong where they are placed, but not necessarily in a literal way. For September, a crow sits among apples, both red and gold. The image suggests Asian block prints. On the facing page, two squirrels, facing in opposite directions, seem alert. They may notice the apples, or be looking for other food. The poem is a quatrain. As Westera explains, this form could refer to any poem with four lines, or to a more specific set of rules about rhyme. The tone is informative, but minimally prescriptive. The work of Persian poet Omar Khayyam moved the four lines in the direction of a changed rhyme in the third one. No previous knowledge is assumed. In fact, the famed poet is introduced with the phrase, “He was called Omar Khayyam.”

Each season begins with haiku. Every month has a poem in a different verse form. Following the twelve months and their poems, there is a section read by turning the book vertically. There are three columns of text and pictures, which are actually the same ones that appeared earlier, encouraging access to the description of the form that accompanies each poem here. Instructions for how to write in each form are not provided as a formula or a graphic, but they may certainly be used that way by aspiring poets.

You may be thinking that this format alludes to the way that we read documents digitally, sometimes keeping different windows open. You would be right. The windows here, though, are different! They look outwards at the natural world, inwards at the imagination, and describe the technique of how poems function. Yes, there are similarities to text and hypertext. You have to read this book to believe the incredibly imaginative the synthesis that results.

Thinking Outside the Basket

Purim Baskets – written by Nancy Churnin, illustrated by Amy Schimler-Safford
PJ Publishing, 2026

The Jewish holiday of Purim, which this year is observed on March 3 (beginning at sundown on March 2), is a joyous event. Celebrating the heroism of Queen Esther in saving the Jews from annihilation at the hands of the evil Haman, it includes several mitzvot (obligations), and other traditions. One requirement is the sending of mishloach manot/shalach manos, to friends and neighbors. These “sending of portions” are small baskets or bags containing at least two different food items. (There is a separate mitzvah requiring tzedakah, charity, to those in need) But customs evolve, and more elaborate packages often now arrive on your doorstep on this holiday. In their lovely board book for your readers or listeners, Nancy Churnin (whom I have interviewed as well as reviewed) and Amy Schimler-Safford explore some possibilities, beyond hamantaschen. What might you offer to animal friends if they were part of your holiday?

The basket on the cover is a clue to what is inside. An apple, carrot, and leafy greens are joined by a bright yellow bone and a wiffle ball. As the book begins, Churnin poses the question, about what these baskets contain. Her answer is “That depends!” If your recipient is a golden-colored dog depicted, like the other animals, on a two- page spread, then a ball might be nice. For a cat, a basket of yarn in bright hues. Even a fish shouldn’t be excluded; its dedicated basket might offer some coral and aquarium accessories.

Schimler-Safford’s pictures are painterly, with rich colors that will appeal to children. The animals’ importance is signified by how much space they occupy in the pages, regardless of if they are big, like dogs, or smaller, like fish. To an adult sharing the book with kids there is an element of humor. Animals do not actually need their own mishloach manot. To a child, it might seem natural that they deserve one. Of course, human-oriented gifts would not be what these beloved creatures want or deserve.

Churnin concludes with another question, “What’s in your Purim basket?” with the same contingent answer. As any child knows, humans like different gifts, too.

Cloudy with a Chance of Beauty

Kumo the Bashful Cloud – written by Kyo Maclear, illustrated by Nathalie Dion
Tundra Books, 2022

Children sometimes personify clouds, and so do adults. While the actual scientific facts about their existence is also enthralling, spinning stories about their evanescent shapes is an important pastime. Kumo is bashful, insecure, but also socially enough inclined to welcome the friendship of Cumulus and Cirrus.

When the book opens, Kumo is so pale as to be almost invisible. As Kyo Maclear narrates (I’ve reviewed her other works here and here and here and here and here), “for many years, her only wish was to float unseen.” Yet circumstances change and she adapts, if, at first, reluctantly. “Her mind was heavy with doubt” may seem an intense statement of consciousness to a child, but it makes sense. She is frightened, then trapped in a tree. A friendly kite, not a cloud by cloud-adjacent, helps her out. So does the wind, and a lake, fields, and “singing glaciers.” The natural world is her ally. But When Cumulus feels “under the weather” and Cirrus departs for a cloud convention, she is worried.

Nathalie Dion’s pastel images with touches of brighter color perfectly match the poetry of the text. Eventually, Kumo begins to interact more with the human world, helping a man to plant petunias, and even enjoying an urban scene full of lively families. One child holds a red balloon, while another, with oversized black glasses and dark hair, wears matching red pants. That child is revealed to be somewhat like Kumo. With his head in the proverbial clouds, he loves to dream. Soon he transforms Kumo into a bunny, a car, and a flying horse.

With the boy’s help, Kumo ascends to “the top of the world,” and even reaches out to new friends. With the lovely Japanese names of Fuwa-chan, Miruku, and Mochi, helpfully explained in a short glossary, they support one another, both literally and figuratively. Being alone and having friends, both meteorological and human, both turn out to be within Kumo’s flexible reach. Kumo the Bashful Cloud reveals wisdom with a light touch.

Snowy Paradox

First Snow – written and illustrated by Peter McCarty
Balzer + Bray, 2015

It may not be the first snow, but, due to climate change, it certainly feels like it in many parts of the country.  In Peter McCarty’s classic, First Snow, a group of different stylized animals responds with excitement to the event, although one skeptic objects to the cold and the unfamiliarity.  Pedro, the “special visitor” who announces his reservations is both the voice of reason and kind of annoying. After all, in order for it to snow it has to be cold, but if he can’t adapt he will miss the beautifully illustrated fun.

There is a mysterious tone to the story, or perhaps it just reflects the perceptions of children. Pedro has traveled unaccompanied to visit his cousins.  They appear to be dogs, drawn in simple, rectangular forms. The mother has pink bows in her hair. The children, with the resonant names of Sancho, Bella, Lola, Ava, and Maria, welcome him. (Later, Bridget, Chloe, and Henry will appear.) At bedtime, Sancho points out the snow has begun to fall. His bedroom has pictures on the walls of dogs bicycling and playing baseball. There is a toy dinosaur on the dresser.  Pedro expresses his fears.

The scene then moves from domestic calm to exuberance, as everyone but Pedro gets ready to emerge from the house and play. They dress in puffy snow gear and make snow angels. Sancho helpfully points out that moving around is key to staying warm, but Pedro repeats his reservations. Readers may identify with his hesitancy, or feel frustrated by his obstinance.  Those different possible reactions frame the entire story.

Other neighborhood children join in. There are birds, cats, and cows, united in their happiness.  Abby describes the sensation of feeling snowflakes on your tongue, to which Pedro predictably answers, “It tastes cold.” Eventually, having voiced all possible objections, he begins to participate in sledding. There is plenty of white space separating the pictures, giving a sense of movement.  When Pedro decides, or admits, to loving the snow any sense of surprise may be either muted, or genuinely impressed by the change in the visitor’s attitude.  Any child, or adult, who welcomes snow, even while acknowledging its potential nuisances, will appreciate this book.

Four Seasons: A Complete View

Now I See Winter
Now I See Spring
Now I See Summer
Now I See Summer
Written by Mac Barnett, illustrated by Jon Klassen
Tundra Books, 2026

There are board book editions of children’s classics, others that are original stories, and many that have tactile elements or photographs of familiar objects. All those categories are wonderful for introducing literacy to babies, toddlers, and young children. (Older children, and adults, also appreciate the sturdiness, portability, and other features of this format.)  Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen have written and illustrated a systematic view of the four seasons based on two different premises, continuity and change.  The four books are inventive and appealing, and surprising, as well. Even if you own many seasonal books for young readers and listeners, these are different.

Each of these small, square, books has identical text, and pictures of the same location or object, varied according to the time of year when it is experienced. Each has a similar cover, featuring a pair of eyes ready to focus, and a color and pattern specific to winter, spring, summer, or fall. The tree is covered in snow in winter, accented with green leaves and grass in summer.

The garden, encased in a small box, is beginning to sprout in spring, and in transition between growth in the fall and emptiness in the fall. The page dedicated to “me” shows a child’s shadow observing the changed scenes. The simplicity of the text is a sign of its depth, a kind of Zen-like approach to the changing environment in the perception of a child.  There is nothing inevitable about Barnett’s choice of few words. One page in each book is dedicated to “something red;” the fall image of a lone red wagon calls to mind William Carlos Williams’s famous red wheelbarrow. “The perfect hat,” of course, Jon Klassen’s hat trilogy.  The hat changes for each season, but the child’s intent stare through the window is constant, a reminder that the book is about observation.  Children do not miss some details that adults might, and they may attach different significance to them. 

The series celebrates the acute perceptions of childhood, both for children themselves and the adults who recollect the time when a house, tree, or the expanse of sky were both predictable and strange, depending on time.

Treehouse Inhabitants

The Tree That Was a World – written by Yorick Goldewijk, illustrated by Jeska Verstegen, translated from the Dutch by Laura Watkinson
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2025

The Tree That Was a World is unexpected.  The central premise of a multitude of creatures who all inhabit, or interact with, the tree, and the dream-like mixed media illustrations, predict a kind of eco-fable. While the natural environment is the scenery to the story, its idiosyncratic characters form a unique cast that defies any didactic message. Readers will meet two pikes, one of whom finds the other to be “arrogant and self-important.”  There is a big brown bear having an existential crisis, and an owl who doubts his own identity. These are animals who argue, become discouraged, and pronounce, “Fuhgeddaboudit” when they reach their wits’ end.

The tree is majestic, a metaphor for age and stability. It’s also a place where everyone has a distinct niche and harmony is not always the order of the day.  A moon moth caterpillar contemplates the meaning of freedom. Her friends boast and obsess with their beauty, while she finds herself unwilling to play their game.  All the characters are similarly endowed with an independent spirit, which is far from idealized. They can be cranky and irritating, even while their refusal to conform is admirable. No, this is not George Orwell’s Animal Farm. Yorick Goldewijk’s carefully expressed irony sets them all, from spider to barn swallow, apart from allegory.

Jeska Verstegen’s pictures are dark, with dashes of illumination (I’ve reviewed her work here and here).  A sloth determines to defy expectations, swinging gently from the tree. He projects his thoughts onto everyone who assumes they know him, even when they don’t, declaring that “he’s going to do some running, jumping, and somersaulting. And screaming. Lots of lovely screaming.” The angry pike swims by his nemesis, insistent that his distress is all the fault of the other fish.  Oddly, the glassy green of this image reminds me of Martin and Alice Provensen’s illustrations for Margaret Wise Brown’s The Color Kittens. Yet for all the innocence of the lovely Golden Book classic, there is a mysterious depth the images, along with Brown’s poetry, share.  The characters are anthropomorphic, but retain their identity as animals.

Other classic works of children’s literature will come to mind, including The Wind in the Willows, Winnie-the-Pooh, and even Frog and Toad (not to mention George and Martha.) A red squirrel gets into a heated argument with a toad, which includes a debate about the existence of gnomes, and the danger of socializing with humans. “If you’re not careful,” the toad warns, “you’re going to turn into one of them.” Children and adults will both take to heart those words to live by in this bold story, as non-compliant as the tree’s peculiar, yet also familiar, residents.