Tag: kidlit

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.

Let It Snow

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.

These Penguins Are Not All Alike

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.

Roman Holiday

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.

Little New Year

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.

Lunch Matters

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.

In the Pocket

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.

What If I Never Fly?

Fly Like a Bird – written and illustrated by Olga Ptashnik
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2025

Breaking the mold may be a harsh-sounding metaphor for a children’s book about birds, which contains within itself a story of natural insecurity and a parent’s reassurance. Fly Like a Bird does actually break a mold in the “STEAM” books genre.  The text and the artwork, by Olga Ptashnik, are both wonderful.  Children, and adults, will also learn a lot about a wide range of birds.

A young chickadee expresses concern about the possibility that she will never accomplish the daunting task of learning to fly. Ptashnik captures the inner life a child with her words: “I can flap my wings, but I can’t fly. I’m just a tiny little bird…What if I never learn to fly?”

Right away, children will be drawn to the book’s tone and central idea. The question-and-answer format alternates black and blue font, as the parent answers with accessible information about different birds and their unique qualities. Digital artwork produces the colors of nature: green, gray, blue, black, red, in different shades.

Hummingbirds are tiny; how do they produce the intense vibrations that give them their names, and also find nectar to drink? Penguins can’t fly, but their speedy swimming more than compensates for this unusual difference. The young bird processes the information: “Oh, so they fly underwater! But is it possible to fly in both the water and air?”

The peregrine falcon images bring the reader to a more human-populated location, as they fly high above elegant buildings and swoop down with incredible speed.

Each picture is composed to invite focus on different aspects of the scene. A large falcon appears commanding, hovering over the rooftops.  A chain of apparently connected birds descends, and more distant birds appear smaller as they alight on structures and rise up further into the sky.  Ptashnik anthropomorphizes a bit more here, breaking the fourth wall. The young bird expresses feelings of vulnerability associated with humans: “…but I don’t want to hurt other birds! How can tiny birds like us protect ourselves from predators?”

A flock of starlings forms a “murmuration,” as “Thousands of birds stay synchronized without any conductor.” Again, the varying scale of the scene elements are a quiet drama.  On the ground, a person riding a bicycle appears very small. Above, the murmuration is a symphony in motion. I was reminded of the fish learning about solidarity in Leo Lionni’s Swimmy.

The book concludes with two pages summarizing the star players, from hummingbirds to black-capped chickadees.  Everyone eventually learns to fly, swim, swoop, and find nectar, when the time is right.

Invitation to a Voyage

Journey of the Humpbacks – written by Juliana Muñoz Toro, illustrated by Dipacho, translated from the Spanish by Lawrence Schimel
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2025

Although this fabulous informational book about humpback whales has not relation to Baudelaire’s poem, “L’invitation au voyage,” I could not help thinking of its title and famous refrain when I turned the first page.  The author states her purpose: “This is an invitation for us to go on a journey. We don’t need a backpack or shoes. Just our eyes wide open.” Every book fits this description. By framing the experience of reading this way, Juliana Muñoz Toro raises expectations and meets them. Baudelaire invites readers to encounter a world where “Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté,/Luxe, calme et volupté,” (“There, there is nothing but order and beauty,/Richness, calm and beauty.”) Instead of dream world, Muñoz Toro, and illustrator Dipacho, extend an invitation to the natural order and beauty of the environment.  Science books for young readers need not omit a sense of wonder.

I won’t try to summarize the wealth of information in this book about the often misunderstood sea mammal, the humpback whale, otherwise known as Megaptera novaiangliae. Did you know that its Latin name means “giant-winged New Englanders?” Probably not, even though you may associate whales with New England, where this one was originally sighted by Europeans.  To orient you on your journey, Dipacho’s elegant graphics, paired with captions, text boxes, and color judiciously added to black-and-white.  Some of the questions even present the answer upside down, adding the sense of a game.  To help you envision scale, a parade of Emperor Penguins sits atop the huge creature, whose principal features are carefully labeled.

If you come to the book with some basic knowledge of humpback whales, you will still learn a great deal. Nothing is necessarily obvious, including the basic fact that every part of the environment is related to one another. “Nothing that happens in the water does so in isolation.”  “Lunch time” involves a nutrients provided by algae, sardines, and krill.

The pictures are meticulously accurate, but also personify the whales a bit, with their balletic movements that seem almost joyful.  Referring to the segments of their day as “nap time, “ “time for adventures,” and, of course, “time to breathe,” sets a tone of familiarity, but also awe: “The breathing of humpback whales is long and deliberate, as if they were meditating.” Note the phrase “as if.” 

When people appear, they are comically observant, watching the whales and taking notes of what they see. Here Dipacho presents richer colors than in the extensive factual scenes, as he brings humans into the picture.  They are important and provide perspective, but they don’t compromise the whales’ starring role. In fact, a wonderful two-page spread categorizing the baleen whale family (image) identifies the humpback, with a touch of humor, as “the protagonist of this book.”  Another concise and complete section on the whale’s reproductive life is, again, accurate and also performative.

Steps numbered in sequence give the facts and also allow the reader to draw her own conclusions. “She alone will take care of her offspring.” The “Have You Wondered” section reveals how a calf learns to identify its mother.  The book’s backmatter declares that it was created by “a team of people who love whales.” By this point, you will not have any doubt of that essential fact.