Tag: books

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.

Mixed Media, All Up to You

The Creative Playbook: 365 Activities to Supercharge Your Imagination – written and illustrated by Georgia Perry
Hardie Grant Books, 2026


I have many art books, drawing and painting guides, illustrated journals, and meditations on how to create (and I have reviewed some here and here and here and here).  Georgia Perry’s illustrated drawing book and journal with prompts is one of the best I have seen. Everyone’s priorities for this interactive genre may be quite different. The Creative Playbook is not a slim pocket volume to tuck into your cross-body bag. I have several of those and I use them all the time. But this is a 352- page hardcover with wonderful graphics and a design which is both gorgeous and practical.  There are images of blank pages, and cloud shapes meant to enclose the thoughts that you brainstorm. Fill-in-the-blanks are not juvenile exercises, although the book is perfect for young adults, and older middle-grade readers, as well as the grownups who are its intended audience.

Overall, the design is minimalist. There are suggestions, but plenty of blank space to experiment. The colors range from white and pastel to jewel and earth tones. Some exercises call for extended drawing and writing, while others, such as a photographed vending machine, invite a brief result. Swatches of color encourage you to think about matching them to your ideas, while other prompts are more fanciful. “If today had a texture, what would it feel like?: It does, and it might feel dramatically different at different encounters with that page. You will be asked to “open a book or magazine to a random page,” and rewrite a sentence to reverse its meaning. A request to open a book at random can never be a worthless idea! From the literary to the sensory, how about the plan to convert a memory into a fragrance? That would be inexhaustible.

If drawing, writing, painting, imagining, designing, fill you with joy, you need to get this book. At the end, there is an “about the author” and her dedication, “Thank you. To my parents, who encouraged creativity above all else.” Here is your chance to fulfill that role.

Small, Hearty, and Transcendent

Eon: My Pet Tardigrade – written by Cybèle Young, illustrated by Cybèle Young and Nell Jocelyn
Tundra Books, 2026

This enthralling picture book has several potential audiences. It could be categorized as part of STEAM, since the tardigrade is an actual microscopic animal, one that can survive in an array of environments, and even emerge from a kind of dormant state called “tun,” essentially coming back to life. They are microscopic in size, and oddly resemble, at least in the opinion of some observers, tiny bears or pigs.  In addition to young scientists, the story of Eon, the pet tardigrade will appeal to readers who like miniatures, both real and fantastic, and form attachments to these special creatures endowed with fascinating qualities. Anyone, young or old, interested in outstanding picture book art, paper sculpture, and the combination of pencil drawing with collage-influenced composition, will love this book. 

A girl first encounters Eon, as she will name him, under the lens of a microscope. He peers from behind a microscopic plant. When his face is appears enlarged, he seems to have “two little eyes.” Unlike the other flora and fauna surrounding him, “he ambled and plodded like a bear.”  Soon the girl, rendered in graphite pencil, feels so strongly that she wishes she could hug this new pet; the white page bears bright red folded paper hearts, which are only a hint of the artistry to come.

Does the story of Eon and the girl resemble narratives about fairies? Yes, and it also forms part of the genre about nurturing an animal and then, selflessly, releasing it to the world where it can flourish, such as Love Is and A Fairy Friend by Claire Keane. In her revealing afterword, Cybèle Young explains how she first observed tardigrades, but also, how they became intertwined with her background creating miniature paper sculpture. When Nell Jocelyn, also an accomplished paper artist, became involved in this project, a fully formed narrative about curiosity, creativity, and attachment was realized.  Young also draws on her experiences as a mother and grandmother to trace both the emotional genesis and physical production of the book.

If you, or the children in your life, have ever designed meticulously scaled furniture and accessories for dolls, pets, or fairies, you will relate to Eon’s good  fortune. There are small dioramas with folded paper staircases, playful paper gears, erupting volcanoes, and fishing swimming through the sea. Recreation is available as the smallest paper circus, and a birthday picnic with seemingly edible delicacies must make Eon happy. There is a Ferris wheel, a folding chair, and a goose-necked lamp, all occupied by Eon. Each creation is exquisite, and together, the graphic composition of all the images is a seamless story.

Still, one day Eon ceases to thrive and goes to sleep. The girl gently sends him on his voyage to a more appropriate home. Maybe comfortable bedding and indoor lighting are not conducive to his survival. The process of creating these items is not pointless; it has its own intrinsic value, running parallel to the girl’s nurturing feelings and confidence in her achievement as an artist. If she and Eon are reunited, that will be wonderful.

A Crowded Nap

The Fluffy Futon – written and illustrated by Yuichi Kusano, translated from the Japanese by Cathy Hirano
Gecko Press, 2026

In Yuichi Kusano’s The Fluffy Futon, a grandmother takes a nap on the bedding of the title. What begins as a solitary rest soon becomes crowded with farm animals, who take up a great deal of physical space on the futon without disturbing the grandmother.  If the story is a fable, it is one without a simple and convenient moral. 

The pictures are quietly beautiful, and the grandmother is comforting. We never learn much about her, but we can infer some qualities from the simple text and subdued colors of the drawings.  As the story begins, she is airing the futon on the porch of her traditional Japanese home. The endpapers show her purposefully carrying the futon to the porch, with a smile on her face. She is followed by a parade of farm animals and a young boy, but it is not clear if she is aware of their presence or not. 

The first animal to arrive is a yawing cat, apparently ready for a rest.  The grandmother must be hardworking, as the house looks orderly from the outside. It is less certain why the cat is tired. The two-page spread positions three quarters of the futon on one page; it crosses the book’s gutter and is completed on the next page, along with the cat. White space surrounds the animal ,and its shadow is visible. The grandmother looks quizzically at the cat, but yawning is contagious. Soon she lies down and falls asleep. We don’t know if she is dreaming.

A mother hen and her chicks come along. Unlike the cat, they are a family. Then a pair arrive, a boy and his dog. A goat wearing a big, noisy, bell joins the nap, along with a pig and her piglets. Each page shows a different constellation of sleepers, moving and sharing their space. But the grandmother remains the central figure. She doesn’t need to assert her importance, but eventually her outstretched arms and relaxed body send the animals to the margins.

When the grandmother wakes up, her eyes still seeming half asleep, she pronounces that it has been a “lovely nap,” and that it is “time to get up.” The cat is still sleeping, but the grandmother must have more focused and productive labor in her tranquil home. In the last scene, the futon is the character, resting alone on the porch, with shoes neatly lined up below for anyone who wears them.

In Which Noodle Discovers Art

Twig Friends – written by Andrew McDonald, illustrated by Ben Wood
Bright Light (Hardie Grant Children’s Publishing), 2024

Twig Friends Go Wild – written by Andrew McDonald, illustrated by Ben Wood
Bright Light (Hardie Grant Children’s Publishing), 2025

I’ve already written about the two other volumes in the Twig Friends graphic novel series. The first book by Andrew McDonald and Ben Wood introduced the woody characters, Ziggy Twig, Noodle Twig, Red Twig, and the rounder and more pessimistic Stump, in their habitat, and here I review that book and a fourth book in the series  In Twig Friends, Red Twig states his sense of superiority because of his unusual red color, but his conviction is really only skin, or bark, deep.  When Red’s attempt to surprise Ziggy results in the near destruction of Ziggy’s snail zoo Red experiments with other surprises. He learns that surprises are just generally not appreciated, at least not when they involve sneaking, flinging, or otherwise interrupting important plans. However, the natural beauty of leaves turning color, or a generous gift of additional snails, will be welcome.

The theme of color continues when Noodle’s friends collaborate in helping her to create works of art. They brainstorm ideas for subjects, and Stump offers advice on finding natural pigments: green beans, red berries, yellow leaves. He even becomes a kind of stamp pad by dipping his round foundation in the paints and leaving an image on the ground. The pictures in this chapter have bright shades, reflecting the characters’ joy in learning that “there are no rules with ART. You can do whatever you want!” 

The title of Twig Friends Go Wild may seem redundant. After all, the first book had affirmed that “All twigs are wild,” a fact affirmed by every one of their adventures. Noodle’s absorption in art is an inspiration to Red, who, nevertheless, discovers that he needs to find his “OWN thing,” and that this journey involves frenetic flings between different potential interests. Knitting, boating, and board games, all seem like possibilities. A collision with Stump brings on the inevitable bout of Stump sadness, but Red is thrilled to learn that he has magical powers that can transform his friend’s mood.  Even if his superpowers turn out to be intermittent, his friend’s acceptance turns out to be more important than magic.  Red’s hyperkinetic need to fling himself into flight, like Stump’s sadness and Noodle’s creativity, are what make each one of them unique.

Remarkable Quest

The Magic Library of Waterfall Way – by Julie Abe
Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2026

Imagine that you’re a child whose fate will be determined by your membership in one of the following categories: Extraordinarily Remarkable, Quite Remarkable, Slightly Remarkable, or Unremarkable. Of course, those harsh judgments often seem to be part of any childhood. In Julie Abe’s middle-grade novel, Lyra Hunt is an orphan on a quest. In order to avoid the dreaded fate of her status, she will need to find a guild that will accept her. As in many of the classical works of children’s literature that seem to have inspired the author, Lyra’s sensitive and bookish nature is paired with courage. With the help of mentors and friends, she will determine her fate.

Guild matchers are responsible for placing everyone in the Alterran Empire in their appropriate niche. With each child’s status unalterably decided by the age of one year, at a Prophecy Reveal event, there seems to be no escape from this rigid practice. Not surprisingly, high-status people seem to perpetuate their own privilege, as the Slightly Remarkable but utterly inept boy who is accepted into the Guild of Warriors when his parents make a donation. Lyra has no such option available. Her parents had been members of the now defunct Guild of Paperweights; even the lowly Guild of Pinecone Collectors rejects her.

This dismal scenario is rendered even more difficult by the constant propaganda emanating from the Guild of the Crown News, an official organ of the regime. Some chapter titles are derived from its lies, while others are countered by the truth. “Books must be protected at all costs. And I must protect those who will read them, too,” is The Chronicles of Lyra Hunt. Books matter, and so does having the courage to speak out and defy authority.

Sensory descriptions of the idyllic magical village where Lyra finds refuge enhance the narrative. (“From the bakery across the street, a whiff of freshly baked baguettes washed over us.”). Judicial use of magical elements also lends a cinematic touch, with inanimate objects assuming lifelike powers: “’The faucet’s upset. My apologies.’ When it noticed me, the water began to stream ominously.” Brief, but powerful, statements reinforce the source of Lyra’s strength, as when the generous and wise Gemini, Master of the Guild of Scholars, explains that books have been a key to her survival, especially in a world where “most prefer the, well, simplicity of the Guild of the Crown’s newspaper and books.”

By the end of the novel, Lyra and those who support her quest have subverted categories and gone some distance towards replacing acceptance with skepticism, both about official lies, and the sense of helplessness those lies are meant to engender.