Jill Lorenzini

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It’s rare to experience the type of connection to a character that I had with Emma in I Lived Inside a Whale. I Lived Inside a Whale opens on the chaos of a party where everyone is having a blast, except for our irritated little narrator. Emma just wants a quiet spot to read, so she packs up and moves into the mouth of a whale (a reimagined space inside her bedroom). Her calm new home is the perfect place for reading—that is, until an interloper in the form of an excitable little boy slides in on a skateboard, and Emma’s solitude takes an unexpected turn. Written and illustrated by Xin Li, I Lived Inside a Whale is a touching and beautiful tale of finding refuge in stories, discovering unlikely allies and sharing one’s voice with the world.

Li’s evocative watercolor and pencil artwork echoes and expands upon Emma’s emotions. Clogged city streets, dour rain and constant noise reflect Emma’s feelings of needing to escape. An abundance of little details (stuffed animals, a warm reading light, a cup of tea, a perfect amount of books in disarray) makes her whale home enviably cozy. As Emma begins to share with others the wondrous stories and worlds inside her head, Li’s art becomes broadly imaginative: welcoming and expressive, it feels joyfully created and makes one happy. Little eyes will have fun whale-spotting while following along. A few classic storytime characters—such as those from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland—also make delightful cameos.

Li narrates with the matter-of-fact voice of a bookish little girl who takes her alone time very seriously. The first-person perspective has the advantage of letting one directly feel Emma’s exasperation, her carefulness and orderliness, and finally, her bliss when storytelling. I Lived Inside a Whale has a moment for every reader, making it perfect for storytime or bedtime or any time in between. We could all use a little vacation these days, and I Lived Inside a Whale is a great escape, no matter your age.

I Lived Inside a Whale is a touching and beautifully illustrated tale of finding refuge in a story, discovering unlikely allies and sharing one’s voice with the world.
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A once-thriving farmers market seems to be in decline, but its people are not defeated, and its community is not without hope. The Last Stand (Knopf, $18.99, 9780593480571) tells the story of a grandfather-grandson duo who keep their vegetable stand going for the neighbors who rely on them. Moving and gently passionate, this picture book by Antwan Eady (author of the acclaimed Nigel and the Moon) with illustrations from Jarrett and Jerome Pumphrey explores determination, tradition, community and love.

A note of appreciation for the clever title: Papa’s stall is indeed the last stand remaining at the market, but the title is also a declaration of resolve. Through poetic and precise observations from the grandson’s point of view, Eady thoughtfully narrates the way Papa moves, looks and sounds. Outwardly straightforward and childlike, these descriptions are layered with meaning and wisdom. Eady’s well-chosen words build a subtle sense of pride and determination. Readers will feel the love Eady has for his rural South Carolina background, which inspired this book and its tone of tangible warmth.

Fans of the Pumphrey brothers’ first book, The Old Truck, will be charmed anew by their handcrafted stamp artwork. Colorful and cheerful, The Last Stand radiates compassion and purpose; this is artwork that feels alive. A strong sense of place permeates each scene, and small details make this world feel lived-in—slightly worn and tired perhaps, but resolute. The Pumphreys fill the pages with people with whom you feel an instant connection, making the book welcoming and homey.

A revealing and poignant author’s note adds yet another layer to this heartfelt story through an educational tribute to the historic—and ongoing—struggles of Indigenous and Black farmers. Papa and his grandson may be the only ones still selling at the market, but they aren’t truly alone: Every inch of The Last Stand is a declaration of solidarity, perseverance and an intent to make a stand.

Moving and gently passionate, The Last Stand by Antwan Eady with illustrations from Jarrett and Jerome Pumphrey explores determination, tradition, community and love.
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Author Ying Chang Compestine mixes a smart, clever heroine into her own take on the Rapunzel story, inspired by Chinese culture and food as well as Compestine’s own childhood. In a world of myriad fairy-tale retellings, Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu stands out as delightful, energetic and unique: a fairy tale you will happily devour.

The “Rapunzel” of Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu does, indeed, have a tower and a long braid. But for Pu Zel, daughter of the Emperor and Empress Ra, the tower is a sanctuary where she can cook and eat without hearing constant reminders to be a “perfect princess.” Pu Zel’s mother sends up baskets of food via Pu Zel’s braid, and Pu Zel proceeds to cook for herself and her dog, while happily ignoring the pleas of the many suitors her father sends to woo her down. It will take something much more interesting—and smelly—than songs and kites to get her attention. Compestine, who began telling stories as a child in 1960s China, where Western books were scarce, combines Pu Zel’s straightforward, practical manner with just enough whimsy to make this a great read-aloud.

In her picture book debut, illustrator Crystal Kung creates an enchantingly soft watercolor-and-ink world of mountains and homes that looks as though it could be included in a museum collection of Chinese art. Against this traditional backdrop, Pu Zel and her tower pop in an explosion of vibrant, modern-princess energy. Her family, tutors and suitors are expressive and intricate, clad in exquisite finery. Kung seamlessly blends everything together and fills every page with intriguing details and movement. Her use of light and shadow is especially spectacular; this story feels completely ready for the big screen. Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu is a brilliant first act that will have readers hoping for many more books from this illustrator.

Ra Pu Zel’s story wraps up with an insightful afterward and a recipe for “Non-Stinky Pan-Fried Tofu” that will satisfy curious, hungry readers. Whether this is your first Rapunzel retelling or your 50th, Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu has all the ingredients to entertain, delight and surprise readers (and fairy tale collectors) of all ages. And for those looking for a happily ever after, it’s stinky tofu for the win.

In a world of myriad fairy-tale retellings, Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu stands out as delightful, energetic and unique: a fairy tale you will happily devour.
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Millie and her grandmother love making dumplings together, which requires a trip to buy ingredients and see their friends in the bustling, lively neighborhood of Chinatown. This heartfelt picture book takes an unexpected but honest turn when Laolao’s age causes her to become less independent and unable to cook. But rather than spend her days feeling sad, Millie fills her time cooking for Laolao and practicing the simpler recipes her beloved grandmother taught her. When Millie decides to attempt the dumpling recipe, Laolao’s family and friends step up to help her in a beautiful show of community. 

Laolao’s Dumplings is warm and soaked through with colorful cheer. Laolao’s inviting house is full of grandmotherly decor, while Millie is instantly likable with her big smile and red cheeks. In a delightful burst of fantasy, smells and tastes that Millie experiences—such as jasmine tea or lychee—transform into jolly little floating creatures, giving the sense that Millie’s joy is so big it becomes impossible to contain. Above all, ShinYeon Moon’s depictions of Chinatown stand out with vibrant, energetic streets pleasantly bustling with shoppers and vendors of all kinds. Intricately detailed with signs and stores and produce, Moon’s Chinatown is so full of life it’s impossible to not feel a connection. 

Dane Liu’s first-person narration stays fun and fresh with plenty of innovative descriptions and alliteration. Succinct, spot-on imagery creates a strong atmosphere while propelling readers through the story. Liu manages to also seamlessly weave in mini lessons on Chinese culture and traditions without overloading on the word count, keeping Laolao’s Dumplings perfect for storytime and school curricula. 

Laolao’s Dumplings is a story of family and community, of tradition and culture, of curiosity and determination. By the end, this reviewer wasn’t sure what was more enticing: making (and eating) dumplings, or exploring the bustling shops of Chinatown. The story ends with a recipe, making the former quite possible. As for the latter, this book allows readers to take imaginary trips to Laolao’s welcoming neighborhood as often as they want.

Warm and soaked through with colorful cheer, Laolao’s Dumplings stays fun and fresh with plenty of innovative descriptions and alliteration.
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Lawrence, a human with a fuzzy hat and wide eyes, prefers to remain in his own house and yard, reading or tinkering on his projects, rather than facing the unfamiliar figures of life beyond the fence. Sophia, a frazzled bird, similarly keeps to the trees, far away from the shadowy perils below. A moment of bravery leads to a chance meeting and an instant friendship between the two that slowly pushes their self-imposed boundaries. When a massive storm hits, it is everything the duo fears. But perhaps something beautiful can grow from the destruction. In a slight—but lovely—departure from author Doreen Cronin’s typical comical animal antics, Lawrence & Sophia is an endearing tale of friendship.

Though more subdued in tone, Lawrence & Sophia maintains the wry humor from Cronin’s popular Diary of a Worm and Click, Clack, Moo: Cows that Type. Cronin’s word choice is impeccable. Frequently repeated words keep the story predictable and without frills—making it a good choice for beginning readers—while echoing Sophia and Lawrence’s black-and-white mindset. Their broad characterizations of the world as “dangerous” or “loud” may resonate with young children and bring opportunities to discuss how our perception can differ from reality.

The soft color palette of Brian Cronin’s illustrations enhances the warm atmosphere of the text. His depictions of the characters’ expressions add a layer of sophistication and humor. Both bird and boy are frightened of what lurks beyond their realm, but those shadowy figures are drawn to be easily recognizable (a garter snake, the neighbor and his dog) by readers—making Lawrence & Sophia a safe story for bedtime. That said, a double-page storm spread is striking and just the right amount of alarming.

There is always room on the shelf for new stories about friendship and facing your fears. Lawrence & Sophia is a sweet, attractive and heartfelt addition.

In a slight—but lovely—departure from author Doreen Cronin’s typical comical animal antics, Lawrence & Sophia is an endearing tale of friendship.
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Author-illustrator Charnelle Pinkney Barlow’s Little Rosetta and the Talking Guitar: The Musical Story of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, the Woman Who Invented Rock and Roll is a beautifully written and impressively illustrated picture book that’s as jubilant as Tharpe’s music and will surely inspire readers to seek out her joyful recordings.

The book focuses on Tharpe’s childhood, when the woman who would one day be called the Godmother of Rock ’n’ Roll was a girl with a passion and talent for telling stories through music. Tharpe’s first guitar was a gift from her mother, and she found musical inspiration all over her hometown of Cotton Plant, Arkansas. Pinkney Barlow’s literary prowess is on full display as her prose sings out with wonderful rhythm and imagery. As Tharpe becomes a skilled guitar player, “her fingers [hop] around like corn in a kettle,” and when Tharpe plays in church for the first time, her music is “like summer rain washing the dust off a new day.” 

It’s difficult to convey the intricate charm of Pinkney Barlow’s gleeful cut-paper artwork. Textured and patterned papers create movement and depth, while colorful musical notations and bits of sheet music are incorporated throughout. Perhaps most impressive is the sense of place achieved by both text and art: Readers will truly feel as though they’ve visited Cotton Plant and met many of its animated, expressive denizens, from Pastor Murray, “mender of souls and mender of guitars,” whose shirt is made from blue-lined notebook paper, to Miss Mable, who compliments Tharpe’s “fast finger pickin’” as she hangs her laundry out to dry. 

Little Rosetta and the Talking Guitar is a worthy tribute not only to Tharpe’s proud, triumphant sound but also to Pinkney Barlow’s grandfather, the late Caldecott Medal-winning author-illustrator Jerry Pinkney, to whom the book is dedicated. In her author’s note, Pinkney Barlow discusses the barriers Tharpe faced as a female guitarist in a male-dominated industry, as a gospel musician who played in decidedly secular venues and as a Black musician in a segregated country. The note also discusses Tharpe’s legacy and long-overdue induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. 

To turn on a radio today is to hear Tharpe’s influence. Little Rosetta and the Talking Guitar honors a woman whose sound lives on in our musical DNA.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe became known as the Godmother of Rock and Roll, and this picture book about her childhood is as jubilant as her music.
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Jessica Love (Julián Is a Mermaid) gently demonstrates the power of knowledge in A Bed of Stars, a picture book about a child whose father takes them camping in the desert.

Every night before bed, the child imagines “the whole universe stretching on endlessly.” This recurring thought makes the child feel small and insignificant, and it prevents them from falling asleep. Then one morning, Dad announces that they’re going out to the desert beyond their city to “shake hands with the universe.” Together, the two explore the desert and meet some of its inhabitants, including flowers, insects, birds and a friend of Dad’s who runs a junkyard. When night falls, the pair “snuggle up all cozy” in the back of Dad’s pickup truck, Darlin’, and make up names for the stars they see.

Love narrates from the child’s perspective in straightforward, earnest prose. In keeping with its youthful tone, the text is filled with small observations that lend authenticity and occasional humor. For instance, the child notes that the city they drive through “smells like rubber and french fries.” Later, when Dad stops at the junkyard, he says it’s to “shoot the breeze” with his friend, and the narrator explains that “‘shooting the breeze’ is when adults have a boring conversation.” 

Love’s watercolor, gouache and ink illustrations convey both vastness and intimacy. She peppers desertscapes with wonderful details such as coyotes howling on a distant ridge, beetle tracks in the sand and the shadows cast on the ground by birds circling in the sky. Just as Love’s text is sprinkled with narrative asides, her artwork includes field guide-esque sketches of desert flora and fauna. An earthy color palette and a soft, hazy quality to the linework and shading give the book a comforting, well-worn feel, while layered blues and purples create a majestic image of a star-studded night sky. 

The strongest element in A Bed of Stars is the calm, simple way in which the father makes the immense and overwhelming universe less frightening and more enchanting. Nestled in the bed of their pickup truck as they name the stars, the child realizes that they’ve gained a new perspective: “It’s not that I feel bigger or the universe feels smaller; it’s more like we’re all made of the same stuff, in different bodies.” A Bed of Stars is a natural fit for bedtime or any situation that calls for reassurance. Love offers a moving reminder that learning can help us face our fears, move with confidence and find our place in the world.

A desert camping trip reassures a child about their place in an immense universe in this gentle, comforting picture book.
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The subway train runs right past Nari’s lively New York City apartment building, and she imagines riding it to far-flung destinations that offer quiet spaces away from the bustling city and her boisterous family and neighbors. A beach, a forest, outer space—Nari envisions what it would be like to visit all these places and more. But the farther Nari travels, the closer she feels to home and the people there who love her. Author-illustrator Dan-ah Kim’s The Train Home is a creative adventure, a charming homage to New York City and a sweet reminder that home is truly where the heart is.

Kim’s prose is straightforward and unassuming, underpinned with subtle assonance and alliteration that will make it a pleasure to read aloud. It also contains a few moments of splendid and clever descriptive imagery, as when Nari’s apartment building “grumbles with neighbors left and right, above and below.”

Kim employs a variety of styles and media to create her visually distinct illustrations. She incorporates small pieces of cut paper and thread into images composed with pencil, gouache and acrylic. Nari herself is a simple outlined figure clad in loose yellow clothes, and she appears in stark contrast against busy, textured backdrops. Full-bleed, colorful spreads pull us into Nari’s real and imaginary worlds, while minute details offer much to explore and savor. 

Many of the places Nari imagines visiting on the train refer to real places connected by subway in New York City, including the American Museum of Natural History and the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building of the New York Public Library. New Yorkers and NYC fans will love spotting familiar sights such as Patience and Fortitude, the library’s famous lion statues. Subway signs included in many illustrations tie everything together and transform a mundane form of transportation into something filled with wonder.

Many picture books follow journeys “there and back again,” and strong artwork and tranquil storytelling make The Train Home a worthy addition to the tradition.

Nari imagines all the places she could travel on the subway in this sweet “there and back again” picture book.
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Chloe Savage’s debut picture book opens with a map of the Arctic Circle. By the time I had oriented myself to this unusual perspective on the globe (and spent a moment appreciating how close the continents—and their diverse cultures—really are), I was in love.

The Search for the Giant Arctic Jellyfish follows Dr. Morley’s mission to find the elusive titular creature. While searching, she and her crew discover many marvels of the Arctic—except the one they’ve set out to find. Will they leave without completing their mission? This is certainly the story of a quest, but it is also about determination, teamwork, hard work and the beauty of the natural world. And it is really, really cool. 

Savage’s brilliant art is slightly muted, with colors that have a retro feel despite the contemporary setting (we see laptops in some scenes), giving the expedition a legendary aura. Early spreads provide a sense of preparation: The title page has a classic flat-lay image of well-organized Arctic exploring gear, and the fully stocked ship is shown in a fascinating cut-away, revealing charming and humorous details and telling myriad stories of life aboard. Throughout the book, we return to these cut-aways to observe the crew of scientists, divers, sailors and the captain as they read maps, eat cakes and wait in line for the shower. 

The story is told in present tense, with the direct and determined spirit of a captain’s log. Savage captures the depth of Dr. Morley’s passion and courage, her crew’s faith and frustration, and the pride she has in her team. Despite being surrounded by frigid waters and potential dangers, life aboard the ship feels cozy and safe. But the boat has nothing on the mesmerizing world that surrounds it—the flora and fauna, the colossal icebergs and enchanting northern lights. Savage’s underwater images, awash in deep, saturated blues, are worthy of framing and hanging.

With stunning artwork, just the right amount of narration and a hint of irony, The Search for the Giant Arctic Jellyfish is the story of a female captain working to discover and appreciate all that the Arctic Ocean has to offer. Dr. Morley’s quest may continue, but the search for your next favorite picture book ends here.

The Search for the Giant Arctic Jellyfish is the story of a female captain working to discover and appreciate all that the Arctic Ocean has to offer.
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One look at the cover of In the Night Garden, awash in dreamy night-sky blues, is enough to charm you. However, Carin Berger’s sweet, gentle bedtime story is more than just a pretty face; it fully captures the imagination.

Using her own garden as a muse, Berger (Finding Spring) takes the unease out of nighttime, turning it into a dynamic, wondrous place rich with animals, bugs and plants that come alive in the moonlight, dancing against a backdrop of calming blue shades. Berger’s collage art is vivid and detailed, with crisp lines that make the delicate flora and fauna pop. Only the fireflies appear hazy, swathed in the dandelion-fluff glow of their lights. The collages incorporate scraps of paper with handwritten notes, buttons, newsprint and bits of sheet music, blurring the line between reality and dreams. This is the kind of art that you want to look at again and again because it is, quite simply, gorgeous. 

Berger’s second-person narration is straightforward and simple. It’s less of a story and more of a journey as she introduces the critters one might find under the moonlight, leading the reader from stargazing to snoozing. A black cat appears on every page, acting as a guide through this nighttime journey. Her language is simultaneously reassuring and imaginative, conveying a sense of security alongside descriptions of the beauty that can be found after sundown. It’s a well-balanced story that will calm the littlest readers before sending them off to dreamland.

I am always on the hunt for a good “last story” before bedtime. The requirements are as follows: It must be engaging enough to entertain but calm enough to bring young ones down from their daytime energy. Minimal text is good, and reassuring narration is a must, as is beautiful artwork. And lastly, it has to have a sensibility that pulls in the adults who will, no doubt, be reading it aloud a thousand times. In the Night Garden fits all of these requirements and more.

Using her own garden as a muse, Carin Berger takes the unease out of nighttime, turning it into a wondrous place rich with animals, bugs and plants that come alive in the moonlight.
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In the daytime world, Felix struggles to fit in with his classmates at school. But in the nighttime landscape, he runs free as a wolf. Felix tells himself he is perfectly OK with this dichotomy. But maybe, deep down, a part of him wishes for more than just OK. Inviting and creative, Peter Cheong’s first book as author and illustrator is both a tale of nighttime adventures and a heartwarming metaphor for finding one’s place in the world.

Every Night at Midnight bounces between day and night, contrasting Felix’s two worlds and identities. Daytime is open and bright, with delightful school chaos that feels homey and inviting. His classmates are cheerful, their faces kind. Nevertheless, it’s clear that school is not a safe place for Felix; the white space that surrounds these illustrations highlights his loneliness and separation from his classmates. Meanwhile, at night, the catawampus houses, streets and sky collide in a pseudo-gothic mashup in deep blues and grays. Lights shine from windows while Felix, in wolf form, roams the roofs and balconies and empty streets, encapsulating the freedom of escape—just like a dream in which you’re flying. Cheong’s style is consistently appealing, but his nighttime scenes are especially engaging.

Felix’s narration balances a somewhat somber tone with earnestness, conveying his cool bravado as well as his underlying hesitation and longing. Every Night at Midnight has plenty of company on bookshelves alongside other children’s stories about fitting in, but Felix’s wolf-transformation is as unique in detail as it is universal. We all know the feeling of pretending to be confident in solitude while wishing we could join the group. We’ve all had moments of rejoicing in our uniqueness while yearning to share it with someone who understands. 

Felix has a big imagination and splendid ideas, but his wolf life also represents the things that hold us back—things that, while making us exceptional and inimitable, also separate us from others. Whether you read it as an allegory or simply a story about flying dreams, Every Night at Midnight resonates with beauty and heart.

Whether you read it as an allegory or simply a boy’s nighttime adventures as a wolf, Every Night at Midnight resonates with beauty and heart.
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Everybody in town is excited to participate in the library’s Libro Love book festival. There are secondhand books to buy, crafts to make, authors to meet and new skills to master . . . something for everyone!

Written and illustrated by Pura Belpré Award-winner Raul the Third, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! pulls readers into an explosion of true book love starring the spirited Little Lobo and his friends. This latest addition to the World of ¡Vamos! series is an energetic tribute to libraries, their patrons and readers of all stripes.

With colors by Elaine Bray, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! is a visual explosion in the style of a graphic novel, combining narrative text, dialogue bubbles and bold characters against warm-hued, detailed backdrops. It’s hard not to catch the excitement of the cast of animal characters, who are spirited, devoted book-lovers. Loosely based on the author’s hometown of El Paso, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! reflects a celebration of Mexican-American culture in every image. Raul the Third’s narration nimbly flows with Spanish as well as English, creating a sense of place and introducing non-Spanish readers to new words. A glossary at the end, although definitely not needed to follow the story, helps fill in any gaps.

Beyond the sheer joy of books, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! recognizes all the different ways people can enjoy libraries. We see characters use books to learn new skills like cooking and skateboarding. They hunt for their favorite titles, listen to audiobooks, take classes and make artwork. They even create their own books. Libraries are often portrayed as places for shushing and serious reading, but ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! showcases them as the bright, welcoming places of learning that they truly are.

Lengthier than most picture books, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! is recommended for ages 4–8, but there is plenty to entertain keen-eyed older readers, including Easter eggs such as a brilliant nod to Stephen King: Gallos of the Corn by “Estéfan Rey.” There is so much to see in this vibrant ode to libraries that readers may be surprised upon a second reading by all the things they missed the first time around. There’s also a hefty dose of self-discovery and empowerment woven into each scene as ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! asks: What will you discover at the library?

Libraries are often portrayed as places for shushing and serious reading, but ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! portrays them as bright, welcoming places of learning and exploration.
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Upon opening A Cloud in a Jar, this reviewer let out an audible gasp at the deep blues and blacks of the midnight sky and crashing ocean that saturate the pages with edge-to-edge colors. Across the endsheet, a mysterious, cluttered cityscape collides with itself.

A Cloud in a Jar’s first stanza will hook readers as two intrepid kids and one less intrepid cat set off in a boat to bring rain (via a captured cloud) to a lovely seaside town of Firelight Bay, where they have everything but rain. The three adventurers make their way across the water to fulfill their mission aided by their wit, a coat full of useful items, and a little bit of the fantastic. But success might look a little different than they anticipated.

Aaron Lewis Krol’s rhyming pattern is vaguely reminiscent of both Dr. Seuss and Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee.” A departure from rhymes traditionally aimed at children, Krol’s verse has an elevated, sophisticated feel that is further enhanced by eloquent alliteration, poetic similes and an intelligent vocabulary. This entertaining, not quite tongue-twisting read-aloud pulls you along like waves toward an unknown shore.

Carlos Vélez Aguilera’s fantastic and energetic multimedia art is an endless feast for the eyes and an invitation to explore. The dark and imposing oceans and skies are just the right amount of scary. Intricate details such as lightning over the city, prints on a handkerchief and the aforementioned cloud in a jar will keep readers scanning the pages. Aguilera captures attention and evokes emotion throughout: We feel the alarm in the eye of a stranded whale, the hostility and chaos in a flock of aggressive birds, the electricity of a storm over water and the rush of diving far below the waves into safety.

A Cloud in the Jar has everything: clever narration, a straightforward message about bravery and determination, and brilliant artwork. This tale of innovative adventurers is engrossing and a true delight to read out loud.

A Cloud in the Jar has everything: clever narration, a straightforward message about bravery and determination, and brilliant artwork.

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