Emily Schneider is a writer and educator living in New York City. She has published on children's literature, feminism, and politics in Tablet, The Foward, Jewcy, and Family Reading at The Horn Book. She is a regular reviewer for The Jewish Book Council.
Cozy Classics: Pride and Prejudice and Cozy Classics: Emma –by Jack Wang and Holman Wang Chronicle Books, 2016
To celebrate the genius of Jane Austen 250 years after her birth (1775-1817), read or re-read her brilliant novels. If you would like to introduce very young children to her work, or just marvel at the incredible artistry of Jack Wang and Holman Wang, you might share with them the Cozy Classics board book versions of Pride and Prejudice and Emma. The Wang brothers create their own felted figures and photograph them, producing original and accessible stories that are not mere novelties. Granted that the text is limited: “dance,” “write,” “read,” “walk,” and “marry.” The detailed illustrations distill the story and offer an opportunity to embellish as you read with children.
For older readers, links to my posts on other biographies and imaginative encounters with Jane Austen and her characters are here and here and here.
The Snow Theater – written and illustrated by Ryoji Arai, translated from the Japanese by David Boyd Enchanted Lion Books, 2025
The art of Ryoji Arai’s The Snow Theater demands strong adjectives: intense, stunning, original, but also: unpretentious, dream-like, and accessible. The reason for this contrast, aside from the artist’s incredible gifts, is the imagery’s blend of naiveté and sophistication, with splashes of color as well as carefully delineated figures. Arai’s pictures capture what it feels like to be a child, and specifically to be captivated by the experience of snow. Snow as theater is not at all artificial, from a child’s point of view. It is a gift, perhaps unanticipated, that then takes on different qualities, including joy. It is familiar, but can also be strange.
There are innumerable children’s picture books about snow, and many are excellent, beginning with the Ezra Jack Keats classic The Snowy Day (see some other examples here and here and here and here and here and here and here). The Snow Theater is not unique, but both its design and philosophy and language are distinctive enough to merit acclaim (it is translated by David Boyd, who has translated some of the Chirri and Chirra books, also published in English by Enchanted Lion). It opens indoors, where two boys are “keeping warm” and “looking at a book.” The first picture has the reader looking towards them from outside, where they are framed in the window, almost like residents of a dollhouse. Then, a two-page spread is divided into several more specific descriptions of their activity, and one larger scene of it result. At first they are sharing a picture book about butterflies in a cooperative spirit. Then, the friend of the boy who lives in the house “badly wants to borrow the book,” and the idyll is ruined. That adjective, “badly,” prepares you for the act of, perhaps accidental, aggression that results when the book is damaged.
Now the boy is devastated. Worse, the book is actually one of his father’s favorites, adding a dimension of anxiety to an already tense situation. Arai traces the arc of the boy’s feelings. They boy had wanted to share the book with his friend, not only because they both liked butterflies, but in order to communicate its special status in his family. Worried, he leaves the house and begins to ski through the snow. Suddenly, he finds himself looking into a miniature theatrical production. There are “snow people,” including ballerinas. They surround him physically, occupying his senses. Then the scale seems to change, as he sees “a large theater in front of him.” Yet the performers, who include singers, still appear to be tiny. “Everybody floated quietly to their places, like freshly fallen snow.” There are echoes of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker, with impressionistic colors. Snow people reflect the color of rainbows. Icicles are suspended from their limbs and odd pieces of scenery, like an Easter Island head, occupy the elaborate background.
Then the show ends. As in The Nutcracker, viewers wonder if the performance was a dream, or if the protagonist had really undertaken a mysterious journey. The kinetic, and ephemeral, experience of a snowstorm seems to have been the boy’s escape from emotional difficulty. He reaches across the snow to find his friend against a field of butterflies, only some of which are enclosed within a book. The boy’s father appears with the awaited resolution: “Let’s get you home.” A cup of hot cocoa by a warm stove brings back domestic security, but the song of the snow people is reprised in the boy’s memory.
Thanksgiving is associated with families sharing a plentiful amount of food, but not all Americans have access to this custom. Freedom from hunger is a human right. Historically, it has been an American right, even if this ideal has not always been realized. Norman Rockwell’s iconic paintings depict the Four Freedoms that President Roosevelt had a promoted during World War II as a reminder of the war’s purpose. Maddi’s Fridge is a non-ideological picture book for children.
It does not discuss the social and economic programs needed to combat income inequality; that is not its purpose. Lois Brandt and Vin Vogel present the problem of hunger through the friendship of two girls, Sofia and Maddi. Sofia has always assumed that her well-stocked refrigerator is the norm. When she learns that her friend’s is virtually empty, Sofia needs to help her friend without betraying a secret.
Vogel’s illustrations are understated and appealing. They convey a sense of community, even a modern version of Rockwell’s, as well as a touch of mid-twentieth century animation.
Sofia’s family is well-fed, with the inventory of her refrigerator even including dog food. Brandt enumerates each item for human consumption: chicken, yogurt, cheese, carrots, bread. In contrast, her friend Maddi’s refrigerator has barely enough to sustain her and her younger brother. Brandt and Vogel show, in words and images, the asymmetry of the situation without elaborating on its cause. Instead, Sofia’s dilemma is central to the story. How can she help Maddi? Bringing foods for the two friends to share as they play outside will not address the problem.
Adults reading with their children may anticipate Sofia’s decision, but children will not necessarily predict the outcome. Maddi’s Fridge presents an opportunity to discuss why breaking a promise of secrecy may be not only permissible, but crucial. The book’s afterword provides further suggestions for filling empty fridges, on an individual and communal level. The book’s relevance today is a sad statement about the refusal to ensure that all children are cared for, but it at least represents an intelligent and sensitive way to shed light on the problem.
Anne: The Chapter Book Collection – adapted by Kallie George, illustrated by Abigail Halpin Tundra Books, 2025
Anne Dares – adapted by Kallie George, illustrated by Abigail Halpin Tundra Books, 2023
For fans of Kallie George and Abigail Halpin’s wonderful collaboration in bringing the work of Lucy Maud Montgomery to chapter book readers, Tundra has issued a boxed set of paperback editions. As you will read on my earlier posts (see here and here and here and here), this series is both an accessible introduction to the original Anne of Green Gables, and each volume a wonderful illustrated novel that stands on its own merits. Abigail Halpin’s pictures offer her own perspective on the characters and setting, and Kallie George has succeeded in writing an homage to Montgomery’s vision, not a bland imitation.
In Anne Dares, the bold aspect of Anne Shirley’s personality propels her to take some risks. These include the physically daring walking on the edge of a fence, as well as the courage to perform in her school’s recital. The fence-walking stunt even requires her to ignore the advice of kindred spirit Diana. Ever conscious of a dramatic situation, Anne assures her friend, “And if I do perish,…you can have my pearl-bead ring.
Her performance involves facing her apparent nemesis, Josie Pye, as well as Gilbert Blythe, the boy whose thoughtless teasing will prove to be a mere mask over his true feelings. Her new puff sleeved dress, a gift from her beloved father figure, Matthew, gives her some of the strength she needs in front of an audience. The dress is both a cherished article of clothing, as well as a tangible proof of the love that now characterizes her home life, although her initial arrival had provoked skepticism. On stage, at first “she thought she might faint.” Daring or not, she is still afraid. Fortunately, “she knew she must live up to those puffed sleeves.” Montgomery’s heroine, re-imagined by Kallie George and Abigail Halpin, lives in two worlds, where undeniable difficulties and dreams of beauty are intertwined.
Welcome to the Penguin Cruise: A Seek-and-Find Adventure – written and illustrated by Haluka Nohana Chronicle Books, 2025
These penguins do not even all dress alike. They are mechanics, explorers, athletes, musicians, and artists. Aboard their adventurous cruise, they have as many different professions as the residents of Celesteville in Babar the King. When the book begins, Chibi the Penguin and his family are about to board ship for a cruise. The magnificent vessel, which opens from the center as a four-page spread, contains every activity possible enroute to a mysterious location. Cutaway images of the ship invite readers inside, as in Richard Scarry’s works or the European wimmelbooks that inspired him and continue to be fascinating to children (see more here).
Look-and-find is a subcategory of these books. Searching for objects and people is entertaining and educational, but the pictures alone just reflect a view of the world as crowded with endlessly interesting experiences. The penguin theme adds a specific dimension. Wearing a variety of outfits over their simple black and white, these creatures read books, watch movies, prepare and eat meals, and pilot a massive ship.
Then the essential Gold Mermaid statuette disappears, offering Haluka Nohana the opportunity to quote Walt Whitman as the Oceano Penguino’s officer is alerted to her disappearance: “O Captain! My Captain!” A stop on Turtle Isle allows passengers to relax on terra firma, and also to search for a mermaid. Subtle overlapping among the pictures, with small differences, calls for careful reading and viewing. The film-watching penguins change in number and position an empty bed has sleeping occupants, the captain is assisted by a crew member. The Fire Dragon adds a magical touch as he interacts with passengers. What exactly is he doing on the cruise?
At the end of the book there is an additional inventory of items to find. But even once located, trips on the Oceano Penguino have not been exhausted. Leaping dolphins, penguin dance parties, and the elusive Phantom Thief Lupenguin merit many turns of the page, with or without mermaids.
Piccolo – written and illustrated by Dan Yaccarino Christy Ottaviano Books (Little, Brown and Company), 2025
Piccolo is not actually set in Rome, but rather in Bella Città, a marvelous place where animals speak Italian, visit cultural treasures, and eat delicious gelato. A lively shrew who enjoys riding his moped and frequenting cafés, the title character has several friends who help him when he goes in search of his favorite hazelnut ice cream. There are several detours along the way, and Piccolo will never say “no” to an amusing distraction, or a chance to help out.
Dan Yaccarino’s picture book world is generally reassuring. Populated by people, and the animals who sometimes are similar to them, his stories maintain a balance of challenges and happiness. Whether in Every Friday, whose father and son pair enjoy a special weekly time together, Doug Unplugged, where a young robot breaks free of his charger, or I Am a Story, an ode to literacy, readers connect to his colorful images and comfortingly familiar characters. Every Yaccarino book is different, but identifiable for its warmth and humanity.
Piccolo has created a list with his fountain pen while sipping espresso and planning his day. He “loves his friends very much,” and the truth of this statement, while obvious, is also proven by multiple examples. Enzo the hedgehog, Mr. Rosso the fox, and Brother Mantis are all greeted with an enthusiastic Buongiorno or Ciao.
Piccolo’s need for gelato is not so pressing that he can’t help Mr. Rosso, an artist, to carry his painting to the museum, or to ensure that Mrs. Gallina and her chicks safely cross a busy street. (This errand seems like an homage to Robert McCloskey’s Boston street scene in Make Way for Ducklings.)
The cinematic scenes include Piccolo racing to rescue his friend Sofia’s hat by climbing to the top of Tempo Tower clutching the hands of its clock with bravery and skill. In another artist’s vision, this feat could be frightening, but Piccolo’s determined expression makes it clear that he is not taking an unnecessary risk. Not every one of his detours is so dramatic. He is also happy to retrieve a soccer ball from the fountain and play for a while, and to assist a young crocodile with his necktie. Yaccarino can easily devote his attention to the smallest actions as well as the most difficult ones. There is some real tension when Piccolo reaches the gelateria and presses his nose against the glass, his purple shadow illustrating the hour, and that “he is too late.” But when Miss Dolce arrives, her leftover hazelnut gelato becomes a simple problem to solve. Grazie, Dan Yaccarino, for this affectionate introduction to Italian culture, perfectly designed for young, and older, readers.
Our Corner Grocery Store – written by Joanne Schwartz, illustrated by Laura Beingessner Tundra Books, 2025
Tundra Books has reissued Joanne Schwartz’s and Laura Beingessner’s classic picture book, about family and community. Originally published in 2009, this ode from a child’s perspective to her loving grandparents and their unpretentious shop seems instantly familiar. Anna Maria describes her Nonno Domenico and Nonna Rosa’s corner establishment, where the provide every food needed by residents of the town. At the same time, Schwartz’s words and Beingessner’s images almost startle with their simplicity. The place where Anna Maria helps out is practical and magical.
Even Anna Maria’s inventory has a poetic sound: “On one side we have the apples, oranges, pears, bananas and strawberries. On the other side are tomatoes and cucumbers, broccoli and green beans.” (image) Clear organization and aesthetically pleasing display are a testament to the store’s importance. Anna Maria and Nonno Domenico collaborate on ensuring that everything is in order. Even standing on a crate, Anna Maria does not reach her grandfather’s height, but they are coequal partners in quality control.
Detail defines Beingessner’s illustrations, along with careful composition and bright colors. Anna Maria is precise in her descriptions. She traces her steps: “There are only two short aisles in our corner grocery store. When I come inside, I have to close the boor before I can get to the counter.” An adult might minimize the need to establish scale this way, but to a child it matters. The bottom of the page with text sets out several small items, including a box of paints and a slice of pizza. On the facing page, the store becomes a cutaway doll house, with each room individually constructed. You will want to look at this page for a long time, noticing the floral upholstery on the armchair, Nonna in her green dress making coffee, and the incredible array of miniature products juxtaposed on their shelf.
Children use metaphor without self-consciousness. To Anna Maria, baguettes resemble swords and cornbread “looks like big, flat stones.” When her friend Charlie visits, both children become artists, drawing with chalk on the sidewalk in a kind of meta reference to the illustrator’s work. (image). A pirate and a girl seem to be self-portraits, proudly signed by the painters. Of course, the neighborhood children are valued customers, treated with respect by the proprietors.
They order their sandwiches with specific requests, “’Provolone, please,’ someone calls. ‘Mortadella and Havarti for me,’ somebody else says.” Observing the cold cuts and cheese passing through the slicing machine is part of the process. Soon, separate components are transformed by Nonno into an unforgettable sandwich. It’s almost a theatrical production, and even the cat is intrigued.
Every picture in the book stands alone as a work of art, and also advances the building of characters. The delicious smells filling the store attract customers, who ask Nonno what dish Nonna is cooking. He recites the recipe, and then completes his expression of love, raising his fingers to his lips and kissing them. A visual timeline of the stuffed mushrooms’ creation appears on the facing page. The entire book is delizioso.
Weiwei’s Winter Solstice – written and illustrated by Michelle Jing Chan Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2025
Even if you are familiar with traditions surrounding Chinese New Year, you may not know about an adjacent celebration, Dōngzhi; author and illustrator Michelle Jing Chan explains the origins and significance of this winter solstice festival. Falling between December 21-23, it is sometimes known as “Little New Year,” and points towards longer days, coming warmth and light, and good fortune. The book itself if full of bright colors and supportive family relationships, as Weiwei adjusts to life in a new home, where “there are no hummingbirds or chrysanthemums” and “it’s too cold for a screen on the door.”
Weiwei’s family is identifiably a real one. Her grandfather, Yeye, enthusiastically dresses her for the cold weather, but they also seem aware of her unhappiness. Once they are prepared, their outing in the icy outdoors becomes a delight. Set against a backdrop of snow, Weiwei, in her bright blue parka and red boots, notes how the frozen river “sparkles like a mirror,” and each family member is engaged with nature. Still, when they return home, and begin to prepare the special treat associated with Dōngzhi, I couldn’t help finding their kitchen to be a welcome respite from the admittedly scenic outdoors. It’s both spacious and cozy and everyone seems absorbed in the task. (Chan includes a recipe for black sesame tāng yuán in the backmatter.) I particularly like the contrast between blue and white, from the floor tiles to items of clothing, as Weiwei drops balls of dough into broth.
Sadly, the grandmother has died, and one moving two-page spread depicts the family showing reverence to deceased ancestors (image), serving them tea and special foods. There is a smiling portrait of the grandmother on a shelf, accompanied by plants, fruits, and incense. Sense impressions rise from the page. Facial expressions connote, not sadness, but loving memories. Sensory metaphors also convey difficult feelings. Yeye explains to his granddaughter that tāng yuán itself mimics the sound of the word for togetherness. He confesses to having felt sadness when he first moved to America. Eventually, senses, and the emotions they corroborate, make sense to Weiwei, and she compares the delicious sensation of eating tang yuán with deep contentment: “I feel like a golden sun.” Weiwei’s Winter Solstice is a graceful homage to tradition and family, as well as to change.
I Like Cheese! (A Kat and Mouse Book)– written and illustrated by Salina Yoon Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2025
Sharing and comparing lunch may be important for children, or for cats and mice playing the role of children. In Salina Yoon’s universe, animals are particularly sensitive and believable stand-ins for humans. (for example, a penguin and an octopus or an elephant). In this brightly colored graphic novel, Kat and Mouse compare lunches; one of them has seemingly higher culinary standards than the other. Will this affect their friendship?
While I can’t call it an homage to Russell Hoban and Lillian Hoban’s Bread and Jam for Frances, it’s impossible to read Yoon’s book without that classic in mind. Debbi Michiko Florence wrote her own version of lunchtime differences in Jasmine Toguchi, Mochi Queen. In Yoon’s wonderful picture book about beginning school, Bear’s Big Day, the title character is unable to touch his lunchbox because of anxiety over the new experience.
When they meet for lunch, Mouse simply brings “only the best food there is!” Mouse brings that food—cheese—in a no-frills lunchbox, while Kat’s stupendous meal overflows from a family-sized basket. Every day she brings a different creation, from a sub sandwich that takes up two pages, as well as another two with its name surrounded by Broadway lights. Nevertheless, Mouse is completely secure in his choice, even describing its subtlety, “sweet and savory, but still mild, with a hint of nuttiness – a true delight!”
While there is no overt competitiveness damaging their friendship, gradually Kat becomes curious. Then, Mouse starts to question his own uninterrupted happiness with cheese. Could he actually be boring? Kat even suggests a trial separation. Not surprisingly for adults, this drastic experiment is unnecessary. Young readers will be reassured about different tastes coexisting, and even strengthening friendship. (as is also the point of It Is Okay by Ye Guo). Yoon always succeeds in leavening her appealing books with an unobtrusive message. If eating alone leaves you gloomy, and bluer than blue cheese itself, it may be time to reconsider what matters.
The Newest Gnome – written and illustrated by Lauren Soloy Tundra Books, 2025
The Pocket is where the gnomes live, in Lauren Soloy’s remarkable universe of small creatures dedicated to choosing hats, telling stories, and generally explaining and appreciating the world. I was impressed with the first gnome book, The Hidden World of Gnomes, and I’m thrilled that Soloy and Tundra believed in them, and that they merited a second look (I’m also a fan of Soloy’s other work, as you can see here and here and here). Although the gnome books are rooted in tradition and folklore, they are also new and singular.
When the book begins, the existing gnomes, including Cob Tiggy, Twiggy Dell, Minoletta, and Beatrix Nut, are about to welcome a newcomer to the Pocket. These creatures, whose names evoke both Beatrix Potter and a kind of cosmopolitan flare (Minoletta, Hotchi-Mossy), need to meet in their mushroom circle to discuss the latest Pocket resident. When Grolly Maru arrives, they sense the need for reassurance, similar to Winnie the Pooh’s helpful and sustaining words: “Everything will be all right.”
After a good night’s sleep under the mushrooms, the gnomes will be prepared to teach Grolly Maru essential skills. As in Babar’s Celesteville, every inhabitant has a specific job and role to play. When Grolly Maru expresses concern that the changing moon may eventually disappear, does this reflect and anxious personality, or just a basic lack of familiarity with the environment? It’s up to the reader to decide, but since Abel Potter shows Grolly Maru other round and spherical items from nature, it doesn’t matter.
The pictures feature gnomes interacting with one another, along with close-ups of objects that fill their lives: dandelions, yarrow, marbles, ants, and suggested exercises. There is a recipe for Bonnie Plum’s baked apple with blackberries, which, considering the scale of gnome to ingredients requires both hardware and strength. The gnomes are artisans, designing grass baskets: “It’s not as easy as it looks!” (Who would expect it to be easy?). Their overarching purpose is constant fidelity to the idea that each individual is unique, but that we are all part of something greater. Lauren Soloy’s artistic vision is fully realized, in a universe of beauty and comfort, populated by small beings with great wisdom.
Imaginary Elevators 