Tag: picture-books

I Want to Be a Reader

Let’s Have a Sleepover: A Kat and Mouse Book, 2 – written and illustrated by Salina Yoon
Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2026

Kat and Mouse, the very different but certainly not mismatched friends, are back. In Salina Yoon’s second book in the series (and I’ve reviewed other books by her here and here and here), they once again have to negotiate some disagreements, but their underlying affection for one another, and respect for difference, are reassuring. The book is also funny, illustrated with bold colors and text in fonts and sizes that correspond to changing circumstances.

If you remember from their first outing, Kat and Mouse expressed opposite ideas about food. Now they are about to have a sleepover, and Mouse has high expectations. “It will be the sleepover I have always dreamed about!” Yoon’s rendition of a mid-century turntable will certainly make that a reality.  Mouse, on the other hand, wants to read, and also build a fort. But the fort-building project is actually a cozy reading nook. No wonder Kat is a little frustrated. She has other ideas for the structure.

Having already listened to Mouse’s reading aloud of “Three Blind Mice,” Kat envisions something a bit more dramatic, better suited to an extrovert. Their friendship is characterized by compromise more than conflict. Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin, Frog and Toad, George and Martha, all have their own perspectives but still manage to get along. 

Mouse suggests a new role. It’s not exactly new, given the “Three Blind Mice” performance, but it has a new name, “narrator.” The sheets used as walls for the reading fort will become stage curtains. Mouse will read aloud the story of Cinderella, while Kat, costumed in a pink cape and hat, delivers a heartfelt performance of the lead role. Indeed, Kat is the “belle of the ball,” and Mouse is happy. They are best friends, they both enjoyed eating chips, even if Mouse found Kat’s loud crunching to be a distraction.  The sleepover more than meets their expectations, as it will for readers of the series.

Holding, Eating, Caring

Chopsticks Are – written by Chloe Ito Ward, illustrated by Lynn Scurfield
Chronicle Books, 2026

Chopsticks Are is a comprehensive, and incredibly beautiful, look at a ubiquitous utensil used for eating in many Asian cultures. The endpapers feature an array of different chopsticks tall enough to extend from the top to the bottom of the page, and the book concludes with illustrated background information, and a food index. The pages in between are a voyage shared with people, objects, places, and foods that all share a common bond, but are also quite distinct from one another. The audience for this informational book encompasses readers interested in food, Asian culture, beautiful artwork, and the unbreakable ties of family. In other words, this is a book for virtually anyone, offering aesthetic joy and enrichment.

Chloe Ito Ward applies to chopsticks a simple definition; they are tools. Having established that fact clearly, she animates these tools by explaining their many uses. “Flipping pancakes,” and “frying fish,” as well as “whirling,” “whisking,” and “blending,” involve cooking. Some of Lynn Scurfield’s (I reviewed an earlier book of hers here) pictures portray people, while others focus on the hands that make infinite use of chopsticks. But they are also used for picking up food and bringing it to one’s mouth, a task that is acquired early in some cultures, but may seem awkward and daunting in others.

A scene of children eating emphasizes that chopsticks can lift Asian foods (“navigating noodles and natto”), as well as chips and popcorn. I have to comment on one particular scene of a Jewish family sharing a meal of Chinese food. There are men and boys wearing kippot and a woman with a traditional head covering. Those seated at the table are old and young, and of different races. I was very moved by the inclusivity of this specific scene, but there are several others with multi-ethnic and multi-generational characters, personifying the sharing of food and family traditions.

Scurfield’s images are rendered in acrylic ink and acrylic gouache, with lines created digitally. The colors are bright, with both earth and jewel tones. Faces, both old and young, are expressive. Foods are scaled to provide different perspectives, as part of pictures full of human activity, and composed against white space as larger items. The composition is a key element throughout the book. A round dish holding round dumplings is accompanied by chopsticks , to its left, resting on a holder with a blue border. In contrast, a square bento is underlined by a pair of horizontal chopsticks resting on a fish-shaped rest. Both pictures are captioned with alliterative phrases.

The depth of information in the backmatter is also integrated into the text. For example, chopsticks may be long or short. Looking at the pictures, you may also notice that the people using them may be tall, if adults, or shorter, if children. There are no wasted words or images, and every fact is related, if only be implication, to another. Food is not an isolated part of culture, as demonstrated on a page where people wearing different types of clothing seem to parade across a piece of fabric. Above them, a pair of oversized chopsticks forms a kind of roof, or border, to the image.

Buying and consuming food are central to families, and to larger communities. A market scene captures the way that eating unites all the shoppers and diners, depicted as separate groups and individuals, but also as participants in a larger and more unified world. Readers will spend time imagining the conversations here, between couples, parents and children, chefs and customers. A seamless connection between objects and the people who use them is another understated current, with pages that are veritable odes to chopsticks, “painted, patterned, or plain” to the bustling humanity that endow them with meaning. The book’s inexhaustible richness, both visual and poetic, will reward many shared readings.

Thinking Outside the Basket

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

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

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

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

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

Snowy Paradox

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

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

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

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

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

Four Seasons: A Complete View

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

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

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

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

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

Treehouse Inhabitants

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

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

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

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

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

Not Just Any Store

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.

A Bridge to Somewhere

Late Today – written by Jungyoon Huh, illustrated by Myungae Lee, translated from the Korean by Aerin Park
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2025

The opening endpapers of Late Today show an overcast sky. The following two pages feature the consequence, a bridge accompanied by the warning that “Morning rush hour traffic is congested all over Seoul,” with the report’s words alternating in word of the report alternating in level relative to the image.  The title page shows an adorable kitten with golden brown eyes that match the lid of the carton which has become her bed. Readers join the traffic jam and the rescue mission.

Jungyoon Huh’s minimalist text (ably translated by Aerin Park) conveys just exactly the amount of information needed.  Myungae Lee’s illustrations, rendered in colored pencils and oil pastels, combine black and white scenes, graphic novel panels, and earth and jewel tones against white background. They are beautiful in their simplicity, but also convey motion, sense impressions, and the imminent threat of losing a kitten on a traffic-clogged bridge.  The black font ranges in size, with some pages reminding me of the lettering used in Margaret Wise Brown and Leonard Weisgard’s The Noisy Book, and sequels. (The Winter Noisy Book is illustrated by Charles G. Shaw.)

Public transportation passengers, each in isolation, express their own thoughts about the danger, and their appropriate response to the kitten’s plight.  Parents and caregivers sharing the book with children will want to discuss all the implications of these natural, but possibly inadequate, emotions: “Why is no one helping out,” “Too heartbreaking to see. I’ll just look away,” and Oh no…what should I do?” One incredible two-page spread is a bird’s eye view of the vehicles, each one inadvertently threatening the tiny kitten weaving between them. The text is enclosed in a rectangle similar in size to the vehicles themselves, the words visualizing the ominous situation.

Cinematic techniques dedicate to full pages to a darkening storm, and another two to pelting raindrops.  Readers pause and take a deep breath. Then, a driver rescues the kitten, his or her hands cradling the animal in a gesture of human kindness. Someone has intervened at exactly the right moment. The cars and buses move. Everyone is relieved.  Being late is sometimes exactly right.

Navigating Together

Together We Are Family – written and illustrated by Emily Hamilton
Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2025

Wonderful children’s books each have their own outstanding qualities.  There is no one formula for producing the authenticity and beauty inherent in a distinctive picture book.  Emily Hamilton’s Together We Are Family features a tone of empathy with kids, simplicity that is not patronizing, and pictures that are reminiscent of children’s artwork without mere imitation. 

In the opening picture, the mother lowers her body slightly to speak with her daughter, a young girl using a walker.  The mother’s words are enclosed in a speech bubble bordered by unconnected dashes rather than a continuous curved line.  “You are you and I am me. Together, we are family.”  There is nothing trite about those words to a child.  The facing page shows family portraits framed and posted in their home. Each scene captures a moment: a bird carrying off part of a girl’s ice cream cone, a father holding one daughter and an older daughter’s face peering over the bottom of the photo, sisters on the beach with their back to the viewer.

Hamilton’s illustrations are rendered in watercolor and pencil, along with Photoshop.  Simply using media that children might also prefer, including colored pencils and paint, does not necessarily convince readers that the illustrator identifies with their point of view.  The primary colors and naïve brushstrokes need to be accompanied by a sense of identification. In a terrific two-page spread, Hamilton presents a bird’s eye view of a family that embodies the metaphor of finding their way together.  Sitting around a floor mat designed as a town with roads connecting the community, each family member chooses a different activity, but they are working in harmony. The father “drives” a red car in a traffic circle, while one child drives a similar vehicle on her mother’s pants leg. The mother builds a structure with blocks. The younger girl, who is moving a toy alligator, which seems more fanciful and less related to the overall purpose of the game, is just as integrated into the scene.

Frustration is also part of a child’s life, as Hamilton visualizes without judgment.  Putting on her shoes is a challenge for the young girl, as is climbing stairs without the aid of her walker.  As with all children, whether or not they have special needs, anger can erupt unpredictably, as “the moods that catch you unawares.”  While her older sister calmly picks up a piece of fruit at their picnic, the younger girl, frowning, tosses a sandwich into the air. The chaotic merriment of a party is off putting to the child, who stays close to her mother watching the scene with some discomfort. Anyone, young or old, who has ever experienced frenetic social activity as less than an unalloyed joy will relate to this scene.

In a sensitive author’s note, Hamilton explains how her daughter’s disability has influenced their life as a family in specific ways, but she emphasizes how all families inevitably cope with difficulties through support and love.  Together We Are Family resonates with that truth for all readers.

Hello, Baby

My Book of Firsts: Poems Celebrating a Baby’s Milestones – written by Lee Wardlaw, illustrated by Bruno Brogna
Red Comet Press, 2025

Opening Lee Wardlaw and Bruno Brogna’s endearing book about the milestones in a baby’s life is like taking a step, or rather two. The first is into the perspective of a baby or toddler, as well as her caretakers, as each one experiences a sense of accomplishment. The second step leads into classic mid-twentieth century illustration, with pictures that promote nostalgia, but not fantasy.  Babies have always been babies, but ways of visualizing our delight in them have taken different forms.

Wardlaw is a prolific poet, with most of her work aimed at older children. In My Book of Firsts she uses direct and off-rhyme, onomatopoeia, and other familiar forms from traditional poetry for the young.  In “First Word,” she charts the series of incomprehensible sounds that eventually become human speech: “Squeaked,/shrieked,/squawked,/and scowled,” “Babbled,/gabbled, jabbered, mooed…” resolves into the surprise of the child’s first word.  Brogna’s accompanying picture shows a mother fox in a smart yellow housedress with white collar, as well as a bushy red tail. She is holding up her kit and they are clearly communicating their mutual joy.

The same mom is at a first birthday party for a bear cub, with other species in attendance. (image).  The bear parents are much stockier than the fox mother, and they are wearing appropriately looser, but still attractive, clothing.  Wardlaw’s poem begins with rhyming couplets that build momentum: “Up early./Family flurry./Bake a cake./Decorate./Guests arrive./Come inside!”  In addition to the cake there is pizza, juice boxes (a more contemporary touch), and other delicately colored pastel items that may be vegetables, pastry, and candy.

Each poem refers to events that parents will recognize. “First Outing” catalogues the crucial items necessary for this milestone. These include the general categories of sunscreen, diapers, and tasty snack, but also the more specific “Flossy cap that Grandma knit.”  A raccoon mother holds her careful checklist and pushes the stroller as fast as she can as her child points to the “adoring fans” waiting to meet him.

Naturally, one poem is devoted to the accomplishment that any reader of this book would expect. In “First Book,” a rabbit reads to her kit. The book has a duck on its cover, because children’s interest is not limited to their own identity. The first stanza describes how a child first engages with this new object: “What is that?/Let me hold it!/I promise not to bend/or/fold it” She is excited to learn that mother and child can share the experience of this wonderful object. The book is “a perfect fit” for her hands, but “We both can sit/and look at pictures inside of it.” Of course, books end, but reading does not, and the kit demands a second reading, and inevitably many more.

My Book of Firsts includes spaces to record a child’s name, first birthday, first steps, and several more milestones, reinforcing the allusion to classic poetry and illustration. Childrearing methods change, but charting a baby’s progress, with patience and awe, does not.