Love, Panda – written by Elaine Su, illustrated by Charlene Chua
Orchard Books, 2026

Whether you call it a “lovey” or a transitional object, a child’s favorite stuffed animal is one of her best friends. Elaine Su and Charlene Chua (I reviewed another book she illustrated here) tell the story of this profound connection from the point of view of the toy, in this case, Panda. Sometimes impatient, other times solicitous of his companion, Panda records his thoughts on lined paper torn out of a notebook. Each letter is addressed to Benny, the older brother who was Panda’s first assignment.

Baby Lou is already quite attached to Panda when the book begins, but Panda is still a bit skeptical. Like children themselves, he can’t actually remember his previous role, before Benny became verbal and more grown up. The baby has no sense of humor, and is endlessly fascinated by the elephant mobile that never goes anywhere. The toys’ transportation system may not be working optimally, because Panda is not sure if Dump Truck is delivering his urgent messages to Benny.

If Maggie Hutchings and Dawn Lo’s wonderful Hello Baby, It’s Me, Alfie were to have a sequel (that would be great), following up after the expected baby appears, we might see how the older sibling’s anticipation measures up to reality. Love, Panda has the stuffed animal ventriloquize that process of adjustment. It’s not easy for anyone in the family. A frantic dad sings “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” everybody’s favorite repetitive song, to a screaming baby. Panda is puzzled by the parents’ endless attempts to talk to the baby, who is obviously unable to respond. Why don’t they get that?

Then, gradually, Panda’s memories start to appear. The elephant mobile is “kind of hilarious.” Books, other stuffed animals, and the baby’s hat become oddly familiar. The last item was once a hiding place for pine cones, definitely a memorable detail.
Chua’s hand-lettering and pictures are rendered in brushes and textures, as well as with Photoshop. Characters are stylized; Panda, Baby Lou, and Benny are all adorably round. Mama and Baba are both visibly thrilled with new child, just as they must have been with Benny. Panda grows into his job because, as he writes in his report to Benny, “We both know Baby Lou needs me.” Sweet and funny at just the right level for each quality, Love, Panda will seem as familiar to parents and children as Baby Lou’s crinkly book.

Puma Concolor: In Search of Patagonia’s Wild Pumas – written by René Araneda, illustrated by Julio Antonio Blasco, translated from the Spanish by Lawrence Schimmel
 Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2026

The title of Puma Concolor refers to the puma’s uniform color.  But color, in the broader sense, relates to both the book’s graphic presentation and its enthusiastic tone.  René Araneda, a documentary filmmaker who specializes in wildlife, has a colorful story to narrate.  He acknowledges that is role imposes great responsibility, along with granting him the privilege of bringing the world’s attention to his subjects.  As he explains in his introduction, appropriately titled “The Adventure Begins,” “when we film, we don’t know exactly what story we will tell…unexpected things always happen.” Yet, along with his colleagues; camera operators, biologists, and other professionals, he is prepared to introduce readers to an animal that has inspired his greatest awe, the puma.

Julio Antonio Blasco’s illustrations, rendered in pencil and digitally, are balanced with copious information. A two-page spread is extensive, yet also condensed, in depicting a group of wild felines, from the largest to the smallest. Other scenes contribute to building a context for the specific focus of his exploration, from pictures of the pumas’ American habitats, along with their location on a map. Earth colors predominate, from the blue of the sky, to green grasslands and forests, to the golden brown of the animals’ coat.

If you are a stranger to pumas, here is your chance to learn about their physical features, vocalizations, even their cub-rearing techniques. There are significant differences between the puma’s meow, scream, growls, and whistle, employed for situations from attracting a mate to feeling threatened, and to communicating with their young.

Now, once you are familiar with the characteristics of the species, you will have the opportunity to meet one distinctive example, Rupestre. Her name is the adjective referring to rocks and caves, and to cave paintings in particular.  Araneda’s respect for this female puma is evident in his choice to follow her, “Rupestre, a female puma with a distinctive spot on her back that looked like a prehistoric cave painting…It was obvious that she was nursing.” Puma motherhood is challenging, as Araneda and Blasco make clear.  Grooming, protecting, and teaching skills her offspring, but so is leaving them for several days of hunting.

Objectivity and attachment are both parts of the text and pictures. When winter arrives, with all of its potential dangers, there is also an opportunity to play in the snow! There is a fabulous scene of the film crew humans, blue figures in the cold, with cartoonish characteristics. They are observing their subjects, Rupestre and cubs, with awe. The accuracy of the information is not minimized by Araneda’s excitements. In fact, it is enhanced. “The sun’s golden tones and the chill blue of the scenery painted a dreamy landscape, as if we were inside a magical postcard.” In case you were wondering, the reality of predation is here, too, with Araneda admitting the tension inherent in observing moments when his subjects might be injured or killed.

As I have commented in other reviews of Eerdmans’ STEM books (here and here and here and here and here), it is much easier to impart information to children, and adults, than to integrate that material into a distinguished work of picture book art Puma Concolor is an outstanding example of the latter.

Still Water: The Wonders of Ponds, Pools, Wetlands, and More – written by Valentina Gottardi, Maciej Michno, and Danio Miserocchi, illustrated by Valentina Gottardi, translated from the Italian by Sylvia Notini
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2026

The authors of Still Water point out (the same Eerdmans team that produced Who Hid the Stars), in their introductory “Reflections from the Wetlands,” that still water has an undeservedly poor reputation.  “Humans love babbling brooks and rushing rivers,” but standing water conveys an impression of ill health.  This provocative point of departure prepares readers for a journey through the ecosystems of lakes, ponds, swamps, and more, introducing the incredible array of creatures and plants that live there.  Yet another example of Eerdmans’ wonderful STEM books enhanced with glorious artwork, Still Water does indeed run deep.

Each chapter focuses on a different category of the ecosystems. “Ponds” includes information on microorganisms, while “Amphibians” gives an overview and discussions of specific examples: salamanders, news, frogs, and toads. Detailed drawings contextualize the features of each animal or plant and its habitat, promoting the concept of similarities and differences between them. If you have a vague idea of what is great about the Great Blue Heron, the chapter on “Birds” fills in the blanks.  This bird is North America’s largest heron. That alone would qualify it for greatness, but it also has “specially shaped bones in its neck to stretch down and suddenly attack fish in the water.”  Ducks are portrayed in sequence, from mallard to common moorhen. Along with the bird itself, there is a drawing, in bright blue, of an enlarged webbed foot, each one specific to that duck. 

Nested among the information-rich pages are two-page spreads of wordless scenes.  These function as a kind of interlude for the reader, reminders of the interconnected nature of the environments and their inhabitants.  There is a contented bear floating in leisurely comfort in a small body of still water, and a gated cottage that conjures up The Secret Garden or other 19th century literary classics.  The preceding pages discuss the underrecognized importance of puddles. These fleeting, small, bodies of water may become “a tiny world,” containing plants and small animals.  You’re probably familiar with rainwater that appears in the hollow of a tree. This phenomenon has a name: phytotelma. The author has captured the essence of the book’s tone in her accurate, yet casual, description of these “bustling habitats, popular with hoverflies, mosquitoes, and other insects.” In fact, they are so popular that “other creatures like to stop by for a drink.”

The illustrations are rendered in ballpoint pen, acrylic paint, and digital media. Lush brushwork and color alternates with simplified blue, white, and red diagrams. There is so much to absorb in the book that it merits careful, slow, reading and repeat visits to each pond, puddle, and bog.

Cow and Sow – written by Matthew Farina, illustrated by Doug Salati
Tundra Books, 2026

Cow and Sow are friends. Like Frog and Toad, George and Martha, Kat and Mouse, and Goat and Bunny, their compatibility is partly based on tolerance of difference, but also on abiding affection.  Matthew Farina’s text tells just enough of the story, allowing readers to expand on the essentials. His language also evokes classics of children’s literature, including the work of A.A. Milne (“ ‘Chin up! Take small, steady strokes to begin,” Cow added. Everyone headed out cautiously onto the ice.”). Doug Salati’s pencil, gouache, and digital illustrations are a marvel of color and form.

This is a winter farm book. Instead of busy activity planting or harvesting, there is a barn flanked by bare trees, with snow covering the roof. Cow and Sow have some time on their hands, or hooves, and are playing parcheesi. They seem, bored, frustrated, even possibly a bit depressed.  “For Cow and Sow, the long winter seemed never-ending.  They’d already lost interest in all the usual things friends do in the cold.” But they have each other, and share a positive attitude when confronted with the blues.  On a trip outdoors, the trip on the ice, and soon they have invented ice skating for animals without skates. Dogs, raccoons, foxes, and moose may at first be skeptical, but they join in. Large mammals performing with balletic beauty also evoke the hippos in Disney’s Fantasia.

When something new is invented, you can reliably assume an argument about who devised it first. Cow insists that she came up with the one skillful move, “my special jump…the Wow-Cow.” But Sow’s demonstration of the step called evokes support from some of the other animals, who all insist that she had been the original choreographer.  Squirrel wisely concludes that it doesn’t matter; “jumps should belong to anyone!” Salati depicts the argument, from Cow’s furious face, to Sow, front legs folded to the side to emphasize her conviction, with other animals in the background fomenting tension.

Then an emergency happens, and all redeem themselves through courage and cooperation.  After a successful rescue operation and a comforting campfire, Cow and Sow, followed by their shadows, return together to the barn. This is the continuation of a beautiful friendship.

Facing Feelings: Inside the World of Raina Telgemeier – Based on the exhibition at the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum, curated by Anne Drozd. Foreword by Jenny E. Robb, Introduction by Scott McCloud
Graphix (Scholastic), 2025

How does Raina Telgemeier connect with readers? Her graphic novels convey the intensity of experiences shared, or remembered by, girls, women, and a broader audience.  Facing Feelings is based on an in-depth look at her career at Ohio State University’s Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum.  It’s certainly not a coffee table book, meant to be displayed and occasionally admired. Each chapter focuses on the ingredients of Telgemeier life and artistic gifts, adding up to her modern classics. 

The artist’s childhood and early career are thoughtfully examined, and the process of creation for individual works is demystified.  There is no understatement here. As Scott McCloud justifiably claims in his introduction, “Raina Telgemeier has arguably increased the readership of comics in North America by a least a million.” Yet the straightforward expression of emotions does not necessarily result in distinguished works of art.  On the other hand, reaching young readers by evading emotion, through an artificial imposition of distance, doesn’t work either. Telgemeier’s long and evolving identity as an artist has logical, and unexpected, elements, all considered in this volume. In the chapter, “What does fear look like,” Telgemeier’s image of a face dripping sweat and contorted in the emotion named, with braces protruding from her partly closed mouth.  The text carefully analyzes how the artist produced this effect.  Panels from Drama in full color are followed by black-and-white sketches from Guts. Both adults and children attended the exhibit and are the audience for this book, but it is clear that Telgemeier is committed to making her experiences available to young readers: “People simply didn’t understand, and mean kids picked up on that whiff of fear.” Of course, adults probably remember that truth all too well.

Anger gets its due as well. A selection from Smile evokes the unforgettable cruelty of middle school, with young Telgemeier’s face steaming with rage. In contrast, her tormentors smiling broadly as they categorize he as “nobody.” There is both compassion and a certain ironic distance in the author’s implicit advice: “I eventually had to learn to walk away when someone was being awful.” The torment of orthodontia due to a freak accident also involves junior high emotional turmoil, while the doctor who treated her was so kind that she changed his name to protect the innocent.

No artist springs from nowhere. Telgemeier’s artistic influences are carefully documented, helping readers to understand that books and visual art have as great an impact as events in determining an artist’s path forward.  Some of her favorites will be unfamiliar to children and young adults.  Here is their chance to see why Dennis the Menace became the code word for a certain kind of innocently destructive child, and why Lynda Barry is an icon to women comic artists.  There are photos of Telgemeier’s drawing tools from first grade to adulthood, and her childhood picture of the Baby-Sitters Club characters, long before she would imprint her name on the series with pictures for the popular graphic novels based on the books. There’s a lot to like about Raina Telgemeier, and a lot to learn.

My Tokyo Summer – written by Abby Denson, illustrated by Utomaru
Graphix (Scholastic), 2026

Two girls, one American and one Japanese, share a love of comic arts, particularly manga. Abby earns a chance to study art in NYC, where she stays with her Grandfather, but also frequents the edgy and exciting world of zine publishing, clubs, and other media. Yuuko visits NYC, and reaches out as a fan to Abby, having seen her work through the exchange of independent aspiring artists. When Abby visits Tokyo, the intercultural exchange between the two, and Abby’s immersion in the Japanese metropolis, becomes an unforgettable experience. That’s the plot of My Tokyo Summer, a fictionalized account of Abby Denson’s life and early career, as she explains in her afterword.

The distinctive quality of this graphic novel is not just its honest account of two teens finding their métier. The integration of material about Japanese language and culture, and the process of drawing, (“And it’s leaking through the thin paper! Maybe I should try Bristol paper next time.”), compose an immersive tour through the 1990s in two great cities. Although popular culture is emphasized, there are two brief, but significant, gestures to the heritage that nurtured them. In NYC, Yuuko and her sister attend a performance of the New York City Ballet (“I can’t believe we’re at Lincoln Center for a Ballet”). Even before her trip, Yuuko, studying English with determination, identifies with the characters in E.L. Konigsburg’s classic novel, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Denson does not refer to the novel’s title, instead having Yuuko mention her enthusiasm about its character’s unusual adventure: “Just imagine! Hiding out inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City!”)

The Japanese cultural information is rich, including elements that may be familiar to readers. Food, vending machines that sell ever items, crowded subway trains. But there are also explorations of history, religion, and the arts. Shrines offer specific seal stamps, goshuin, that visitors can collect in books. Abby may be more interested in exploring the punk rock scenes and Shibuya shopping than in learning about sculpture from the Kamakura era, but the juxtaposition of both offers a rounded and realistic portrait.

I noted that the recommended age for readers of My Tokyo Summer is twelve and older. There are a small number of pictures with partial nudity, but, overall, most of the material would also be suitable for readers under that age. I assume that Abby Denson, and Utomaru, included those scenes as significant reflections of Abby and Yuuko’s encounters. Denson, Utomaru, and Yuuko Koyama added thoughtful notes, as well as photos and drawings, in the back matter. A summer in Tokyo is not the only path to becoming an artist, but this graphic novel should generate excitement about how and why creativity happens.

Max a Little Axolotl: Breaking Out – written and illustrated by Joey Spiotta
Graphix (Scholastic), 2026

This is the second in the series about an endearing axolotl and his friends.  Max has become acclimated to his aquarium home. With pizza day, their teacher, Mr. Tecu, imparting crucial information about ecosystems, and his multiple species of aquatic friends, life is pretty comfortable. When another axolotl, Nayeli, arrives, she is less accepting of captivity, even with all the amenities.

Joey Spiotta has been a concept artist in animation; if some of the endearing creatures who interact with him remind you of Nemo, or older personified animals like Archimedes the Owl (The Sword in the Stone), that friendly aesthetic might be the reason. 

The old fish who can’t find his glasses, or remember Nayeli’s name, personifies kindness. Teddy/Uncle T-Bone is an enterprising crustacean who sells junk, as well as algae smoothies, figuring that “you gotta diversify if’n you wanna run a successful business.”

When Max and friends finally locate Nayeli, he patiently explains the scary truth to her: axolotls are an endangered species who can only survive in a protected environment. The truth dawns on her. “I …can’t go home,” is a heartbreaking reality, especially followed by Max’s confirmation that “there’s nothing to go back to.” Just when you might think this bleak reality is the end of the story, Nayeli learns that a safely constructed habitat that looks and feels like home is enough for the present.  As Mr. Tecu admits, “change can be hard.” Spiotta’s helpful list of “Facts-olotl” concludes the story, contextualizing both the incredible value of this small salamander, and why Max and Nayeli require protection, at least for now.

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.

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

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.