Tag: picture-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.

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.

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.

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.