Julie Danielson

Review by

Tracey Fern is no stranger to well-crafted picture book biographies, having released a handful of well-reviewed ones in recent years. In her newest, Dare the Wind, she tells the true story of Eleanor “Ellen” Prentiss, born in Marblehead, Massachusetts, in 1814. Ellen, “born with saltwater in her veins,” spent her days at the shore and learned at a young age from her father how to navigate a ship and operate a sextant. Because of Ellen’s desire for adventure and her competitive nature (“there is no glory in second place”), her father would often caution her—a recurring theme in this story—that “a true navigator must have the caution to read the sea, as well as the courage to dare the wind.”

After marrying Perkins Creesy, a man who also adored sailing, they set out on a ship named the Flying Cloud on a 15,000-mile trip from New York City to Cape Horn and then up to San Francisco, all in the name of reaching the Gold Rush. If Ellen and Perkins traveled the fastest, they’d receive a bonus as well. It was the dream of a lifetime for her, and she and Perkins set out with fearlessness.

With a lively and dramatic voice, Fern lays out the perils of the voyage—the ship’s mainmast breaks, and Ellen and her crew sail the ship around dangerous waters near the coast of Brazil—and captures the ups and downs of the journey with an almost breathtaking pace. Illustrator Emily Arnold McCully’s watercolors move with ease from placid, peaceful waters to angry, churning seas, and her playful lines give readers a solid sense of the thrill of the journey. In one illustration, we’re below deck with Ellen, shown with an off-kilter perspective, as if we readers are rocking on the waves with her.

Ellen’s voyage beat previous records and lasted for three years, according to the informative Author’s Note and tips for further reading that close the book. It was a remarkable achievement, especially during a time when a woman navigating a ship was altogether taboo.

This is an excellent biography of a record-breaking American sailor.

 

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog.

Tracey Fern is no stranger to well-crafted picture book biographies, having released a handful of well-reviewed ones in recent years. In her newest, Dare the Wind, she tells the true story of Eleanor “Ellen” Prentiss, born in Marblehead, Massachusetts, in 1814. Ellen, “born with saltwater in her veins,” spent her days at the shore and learned at a young age from her father how to navigate a ship and operate a sextant.

Review by

This lyrical tribute to Sugar Hill, the historic Harlem neighborhood of the 1920s and ‘30s, and its legendary inhabitants packs a lot of information with an economy of words and R. Gregory Christie’s colorful, stylized paintings.

It’s a powerful notion—that one neighborhood housed so many African-American luminaries in such wide-ranging fields (but primarily the arts), from Duke Ellington to Zora Neale Hurston to Thurgood Marshall. Author Carole Boston Weatherford pays tribute to each with a text possessing a distinctive rhythm, which begs to be read aloud. But she also pays tribute to the ordinary (that is, non-celebrity) neighborhood dwellers, those who encouraged the arts and culture in the lives of their children: “Where grown-ups lift the young ones high and give them wings to touch the sky.”

The book’s font plays with color and type to accentuate the author’s rhythms, and Christie’s art pulses with energy and reverence for the subject matter. The book closes with an informative Author’s Note about Sugar Hill and the Harlem Renaissance and a list of Who’s Who from the book.

It’s a joyous celebration of community and a poetic tribute to one of this country’s most exciting cultural movements.

 

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

This lyrical tribute to Sugar Hill, the historic Harlem neighborhood of the 1920s and ‘30s, and its legendary inhabitants packs a lot of information with an economy of words and R. Gregory Christie’s colorful, stylized paintings.

Review by

Brimsby is a hat maker. He lives in a tiny cottage in the country, and his best friend, a badger, visits daily to chat over delicious hot tea. When his bestie leaves to become a sea captain, Brimsby is lonely and sets out to make some new friends. Birds high up in a tree are too busy keeping warm to pay him any mind. When Brimsby returns with hats for each, large enough to cover their nests and keep out the wind and snow, he makes more than enough new friends in one fell swoop. 

One of many things debut author-illustrator Andrew Prahin does so well here is regulate the careful and generous pacing of this story. Never rushing, he gives readers just enough time to believe in the friendship of Brimsby and his friend, and he devotes two spreads to Brimsby’s subsequent loneliness. We feel Brimsby’s loss. In one spread, we see four seasons go by in 12 small vignettes, as Brimsby sews by the window where his friend once sat with him. Prahin also uses white space to great effect. In several illustrations, we see copious white for the abundant snow, as heavy-hearted Brimsby trudges forward to make someone’s acquaintance. It’s moving and possesses a poignant restraint.

The color palette of Prahin’s digitally created art is also smart, as he replaces the warmer colors of his best friend with the cooler, more muted colors of sadness and heavy winter. When Brimsby strikes up a friendship with the birds, glowing pinks are introduced. And when they all head out to visit the sea captain at the book’s close—new friendships never cancel out the old ones, after all—we see vivid greens, as everyone sits by the shore in summer, having tea as a group. 

Brimsby’s Hats is a very promising debut and a touching story of friendship from a storyteller I hope we hear from again. 

 

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

Brimsby is a hat maker. He lives in a tiny cottage in the country, and his best friend, a badger, visits daily to chat over delicious hot tea. When his bestie leaves to become a sea captain, Brimsby is lonely and sets out to make some new friends. Birds high up in a tree are too busy keeping warm to pay him any mind. When Brimsby returns with hats for each, large enough to cover their nests and keep out the wind and snow, he makes more than enough new friends in one fell swoop. 

Review by

Let me tell it like it is: Bob Shea makes some of the funniest picture books today. He’s written and illustrated a stack of smart, entertaining books that are irresistible in their energy, wit and heart. He’s best known for his Dinosaur vs. books, and his latest is just as winning.

Buddy is a monster, and he means business. When we meet him, he’s barking at everything in his path, all in the name of swagger. (“You’re not so hot, SUN! You better run, birds!”) When he meets some cute, fluffy bunnies, he doesn’t mince words, announcing he’ll devour them all.

When the bunnies declare (and despair) that they’re about to bake cupcakes—we see them huddled together in fear from the inside of Buddy’s mouth—he takes pause. Even monsters prefer cupcakes first and bunnies for dessert.

And so it goes. Each time Buddy plans to consume them, the bunnies suggest another chummy event, distracting him and drawing him even closer to them in friendship. “I promise to eat you tomorrow,” he repeatedly asserts, all the while having rowdy fun with his new pals.

When the bunnies inform Buddy why precisely he can’t eat them (I won’t give away Shea’s comic rimshot toward the book’s close, though the title is more than a hint), he believes he’s been tricked—only to have his friends tell him that wasn’t their intent at all: “We wouldn’t do that. We like you, Buddy.” Cue Buddy’s joyful epiphany, complete with a happy dance.

Shea gets lots of humor out of Buddy’s exaggerated facial expressions and the bunnies’ overly (and genuinely) sweet antics. He’s liberal in his use of colors here, and no shades are shrinking violets, by any means. Everything is bold and vibrant. The playful use of font type and colors also add to the fun and humor. Buddy pops right off the page, and if the book’s title is any indication, we’ll see more Buddy and the Bunnies tales in the future.

It’s a story to sink your teeth into. Just have your cupcakes first.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

Let me tell it like it is: Bob Shea makes some of the funniest picture books today. He’s written and illustrated a stack of smart, entertaining books that are irresistible in their energy, wit and heart. He’s best known for his Dinosaur vs. books, and his latest is just as winning. Buddy is a monster, […]
Review by

Good things happen when author Amy Gibson kisses and tells. “Everyday, everywhere, kisses are flying,” she writes in Catching Kisses, an endearing tribute to the transfer of love that occurs with one simple act: the blowing of kisses through the air from one person to another.

With gently flowing text, Gibson puts all five senses to work to describe what a kiss can do. We can hear some kisses “SMACK!” like bubble gum. They can smell of ginger and cinnamon, as well as fresh bread and hot chocolate. We can see them zig and zag “through taxis and buses and streams of bicycles.” When they touch us, they can tickle, especially those as “velvet as peach fuzz.” And Gibson knows how to put captivating figurative language to work, such as when she writes that kisses are as “soft as lamb’s wool, but strong as steel.”

Maria van Lieshout’s digital illustrations, rendered on a cool, blue-themed palette with attractive splashes of reds and yellows, take readers on a trip around the country—from seaside towns to deep forests to Main Street. Popular landmarks lend specificity to many spreads, such as Times Square, the Washington Monument, the Golden Gate Bridge and more.

Blowing kisses isn’t only for starry-eyed couples. There are mothers with newborns, children with their caretakers, mama cats licking their kittens and lots more. It all adds up to a comforting story, one that would make an excellent bedtime read for the youngest of children. After all, kisses might be invisible, but they’re real. And “once a kiss is given . . . it can never be taken away.”

Soothing and solacing words, perfect for sharing just before tucking in at night. And sealing with a kiss.

 

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

Good things happen when author Amy Gibson kisses and tells. “Everyday, everywhere, kisses are flying,” she writes in Catching Kisses, an endearing tribute to the transfer of love that occurs with one simple act: the blowing of kisses through the air from one person to another. With gently flowing text, Gibson puts all five senses […]
Review by

The Nowhere Box, from debut author/illustrator Sam Zuppardi, is an invigorating tribute to the power of a child’s imagination. In it, we meet George. He has two little brothers, and collectively they ruin his playtime. They deface his painting; the ball in their tossing game lands on his head; they wreck his train tracks; and they follow him everywhere.

But have no fear! The delivery man is here, bringing a box mammoth enough to deliver the family’s new dryer. Anyone who’s ever been in the same room with a child and a cardboard box of any size knows the magnetic pull these boxes possess. But extra-large boxes are special and allow for particularly inventive play.

Better yet, this box actually hides George, who slips inside and enters Nowhere. It’s a rousing land of sea, sky and coaster. In multiple spreads, Zuppardi lets George’s imagination run wild, and it’s here that he introduces actual cardboard into his mixed media illustrations, making readers want to touch the pages. The roller coaster track and ocean waves are composed of cardboard strips, and these thick pieces bring a rough-hewn, concrete quality to George’s inner world.

Zuppardi’s loose, energetic lines and primarily full-bleed spreads bring us George’s highs and lows—his manic glee in escaping his siblings and, when the book opens, his despair at their intrusions. There’s a certain level of hyperbole at work here that is very funny. For one, any time George sulks in the book’s opening, he flourishes a large, exaggerated frown with one simple line, one that nearly covers the whole bottom half of his face, not unlike a child might draw. It’s all or nothing for George, who’s having one emotional roller-coaster of a day. And even the middle of Nowhere, it turns out, is no fun without little brothers who can be enemy pirates.

If The Nowhere Box is any indication, Zuppardi’s career is going somewhere. I look forward to what he brings readers next.

 

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

The Nowhere Box, from debut author/illustrator Sam Zuppardi, is an invigorating tribute to the power of a child’s imagination. In it, we meet George. He has two little brothers, and collectively they ruin his playtime. They deface his painting; the ball in their tossing game lands on his head; they wreck his train tracks; and […]
Review by

Ever seen a bedtime book for children get them all worked up instead? Often a story can excite a child, the opposite intended effect for a nighttime routine. This isn’t likely to happen with Emily Winfield Martin’s Dream Animals: A Bedtime Journey, the gently paced, rhyming tale of imaginary nocturnal creatures taking sleeping children on nighttime adventures.

“There are animals from long ago / And twice as far away. / Their maps are made of starlight / And can’t be seen by day,” the story opens. These creatures are in charge of delivering children to Dreamland, and it’s their quirky destinations that keep this sweet story from being altogether too cloying. A bear carries a bespectacled boy to “meet peculiar friends” at a “misfit table,” which seats Humpty Dumpty, a robot and more. There’s also a circus with a monkey on a unicycle and small, green, elvish creatures atop a crescent moon.

As if a direct descendant of Mary Chalmers, Martin’s very painterly illustrations feature a moderately romanticized view of childhood, replete with well-behaved, doe-eyed children. It’s a throwback, as if she’s paying homage to the picture books of the mid-1950s. She pulls it off without being derivative. There’s even a refreshing and subtle sense of darkness to some of the spreads; one girl stands in an elfin hollow, and readers can only wonder what magic lurks in the dark beyond her visit with the fairies. Bunnies and bears, your typical picture book fare, are tempered by the inclusion of more unusual animals, such as narwhals and a large moth, with the fantastical, ethereal spreads conveying a kind of gravity in spots.

Many pages feature children sleeping with the stuffed animal versions of the creatures who appear in their dreams (also featured on the elegant endpapers). These are simple drawings on pages the color of a blue, twilight sky, but they’re followed by full-color fantasy visions, made all the more striking by this color contrast.

It’s dreamy, a beautiful send-off to sleep.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

Ever seen a bedtime book for children get them all worked up instead? Often a story can excite a child, the opposite intended effect for a nighttime routine. This isn’t likely to happen with Emily Winfield Martin’s Dream Animals: A Bedtime Journey, the gently paced, rhyming tale of imaginary nocturnal creatures taking sleeping children on […]
Review by

Cat lovers, in particular, will want to take note of Inga Moore’s new picture book, the endearing tale of Captain Cat.

A world-traveling trader, Captain Cat has earned his nickname from his crew, given that he has more cats than sailors on board his ship. He loves to settle down in his cabin with his cats while searching his maps for the next adventure. He’s traded many a precious jewel for a cat, for which other traders have mocked him. (“No wonder he never makes any money!”)

After landing on a remote island after a storm, Captain Cat and his felines meet a plucky and welcoming young queen. She and her islanders have never seen a cat before. She’s pleased and invites the captain and all his cats to stay. Even better, she discovers the cats are capable of ridding the island of the pesky rats that have plagued them. She offers Captain Cat diamonds, pearls and rubies if he’ll leave his cats on the island to keep the rats in check. When Captain Cat’s fellow traders eventually find out, they head to the island with exquisite wares for trading, only to be handed “the finest our island has to offer,” a basket of newborn kittens. Disgusted, they return them to Captain Cat.

There’s more to this curious tale, which delights in its unexpected twists. Just when you suspect one thing will happen, Moore surprises you with another, even throwing in a bit of chummy commentary, spoken directly to the reader. When Captain Cat decides to leave the island with the queen’s treasures, Moore writes, “But before you cry, ‘Oh! How could he? Didn’t he love his cats?’ let me tell you. . . .” And at another of the story’s unexpected turns, she writes, “But the story doesn’t end here. Not at all. If anything, this is where it gets really good.”

Moore’s sprawling mixed media spreads create a vivid, detailed world, and the quirky story charms.

Dare I say: It’s the cat’s pajamas.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

Cat lovers, in particular, will want to take note of Inga Moore’s new picture book, the endearing tale of Captain Cat. A world-traveling trader, Captain Cat has earned his nickname from his crew, given that he has more cats than sailors on board his ship. He loves to settle down in his cabin with his […]
Review by

In this clever retelling of “Little Red Riding Hood,” Little Red, one of many students in pencil school, is learning the basics of creative writing and storytelling from her teacher, Ms. 2. Having learned what a story path is, all laid out on Ms. 2’s blackboard in the book’s first spread, Red decides she wants to write a story about bravery: “Red is the color of courage,” so she’s up for the challenge.  

With a basket from her teacher of 15 red words to use during times of trouble, she heads out, only to get bogged down by adjectives in the “deep, dark, descriptive forest.” After that, she meets Conjunction Glue and a truck full of adverbs (“We deliver speedily”) and gets carried away with run-on sentences that hardly carry her story. Following a growly sound, she eventually meets her wolf-like nemesis, a sharp-toothed pencil sharpener, who threatens to end her and who has already swallowed Principal Granny. Never fear. This intrepid little red pencil gallantly fights evil. Elements #2 and #3 of the story path, after all, are “Trouble” and “Even bigger trouble.” But in the end, one fixes the trouble. And Red heroically does so. 

In Joan Holub’s Little Red Writing, young readers will learn a lot about story structure and storytelling tools—and likely without even realizing it. Melissa Sweet has much fun—the punny kind, too—with her playful illustrations, literally animating words (the initial letters of “suddenly, abruptly, & surprisingly” on the adverb spread have teeth and astonished looks in their eyes) and bringing pencil school to vibrant life with her observant details and smart design sense. (One poster on the wall notes the sewing club, which makes “pencil skirts.”) Sweet even puts the front and final endpapers to work to help tell the story.

This is an A-plus venture all the way, one that celebrates words and stories and is sure to entertain wannabe writers.

 

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

In this clever retelling of “Little Red Riding Hood,” Little Red, one of many students in pencil school, is learning the basics of creative writing and storytelling from her teacher, Ms. 2. Having learned what a story path is, all laid out on Ms. 2’s blackboard in the book’s first spread, Red decides she wants […]
Review by

Fans of Eric Carle won’t want to miss his latest offering, a tribute to friendship based on one of the author’s own childhood experiences.

As the book opens, we see two friends playing together happily. By the next spread, however, the boy is sad. His friend has moved away. He takes a deep breath, counts to 10 and heads out to find her. He swims a wide, cold river under a starry sky. He scales a steep mountain. He makes his way through the tall, damp grasses of a meadow. On and on he journeys: Rain, fatigue and dark shadows won’t stop him. Eventually, he finds her, giving her the same bouquet of flowers featured on the book’s title page. “I knew you would come,” she says.

The children are featured only on the first couple of spreads, as well as the last one. All the brightly colored pages in between feature Carle’s signature broad brush strokes, very texturized paper tissue collages and abstract renderings, pared down to their essentials. The meadow is merely a series of thick, green brush strokes. The river is composed of large, wavy lines in various shades of blues and greens, undulating across the page. There’s no boy in sight, as if to emphasize the enormity of the journey—or perhaps to put readers into the boy’s own shoes.

On a closing spread, Carle shares a childhood photo of a friend, now lost to him, but on the dust jacket, we read that his wife, Bobbie, was inspiration for the book as well. Friends is a sweet story of devotion for the youngest of readers.

Fans of Eric Carle won’t want to miss his latest offering, a tribute to friendship based on one of the author’s own childhood experiences. As the book opens, we see two friends playing together happily. By the next spread, however, the boy is sad. His friend has moved away. He takes a deep breath, counts […]
Review by

To say the characters in Peter Brown’s new picture book are anthropomorphized is putting it mildly. They’re in clothing, walking upright and living in houses, but they take it even further: They are creatures who have altogether forgotten that they’re animals who can exercise their savageness. These refined, Victorian-esque creatures have abandoned their wild natures. Wanting to have some fun, Mr. Tiger gets to the ground, discovers his additional two legs, sheds his clothes and heads to the wild. Though he enjoys it, he misses his friends and eventually returns, only to discover things are different back home.

Brown reduces scenes to their essentials in these compositions, the digitally-colored artwork initially rendered via India ink, watercolor, gouache and pencil. He effectively establishes mood with his color choices, heightening the book’s story arc and emotional impact. On the opening spread, drab light browns and grays dominate, as we see the dignified creatures (even the monkey) walking stiff and upright down the road, yet Mr. Tiger stands out with his bright orange fur. The spreads get progressively brighter—more greens, more blues, and more light—as he heads to the wilderness.

Brown and his design team have made all kinds of smart choices in Mr. Tiger Goes Wild, a book that celebrates mischief and has a real timelessness to it. For one, he even lets the typeface go wild: When Mr. Tiger is fully free in the wilderness, having discovered his inner beast, we see hand-lettered display type in a huge speech bubble: “ROAR!” Brown also knows where to vary size and use white space to make us care about his main character. The moment Mr. Tiger decides to walk on all four legs, as well as the one where he sheds all his tight clothing and heads to the wilderness, are exuberant occasions when an up-close Mr. Tiger is given the entire spread. The endpapers are also worth discovering: The opening pages display a brick wall, and the final ones show readers a field of grasses.  

Mr. Tiger Goes Wild is an exceptional tribute to the wild and rambunctious energy in all children.

Wild thing, I think I love you.

 

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

To say the characters in Peter Brown’s new picture book are anthropomorphized is putting it mildly. They’re in clothing, walking upright and living in houses, but they take it even further: They are creatures who have altogether forgotten that they’re animals who can exercise their savageness. These refined, Victorian-esque creatures have abandoned their wild natures. […]
Review by

Poor Xander the panda really wants to throw a panda party at the zoo where he lives, but he’s the only panda there. After he decides to invite all the bears instead, he soon comes to realize that Koala is not actually a bear. So, he invites all the mammals, but Rhinoceros won’t attend without the bird who always sits atop his horn. And so it goes until eventually Xander, ever-patient party planner extraordinaire, invites the entire zoo to the big shebang.

Linda Sue Park’s rhyming text rolls right off the tongue, making this one a wonderful read-aloud. It’s hard, I’m sure, to do rhyming picture books well; some are insufferably sing-songy and threaten to put everyone to sleep, but we’re in good hands with Park. There are internal rhymes in many sentence constructions (“Xander planned a bear affair”), as well as rhyming lines (“Xander sat and chewed bamboo. He changed his plans and point of view”). Mixing up her meters and rhythms a bit, Park keeps the story from ever getting dull.

Also delightful are Matt Phelan’s soft ink and watercolor illustrations. Anyone who enjoyed his illustrations for Alice Schertle’s Very Hairy Bear (2007) will be happy to see more Phelan bears here, as well as lots of other creatures. Phelan conveys humor via Xander’s frustration in trying to get this party right—and his immense patience in putting up with all the demands placed upon him.

Park closes with a lengthy author’s note about pandas, their classification, their threat of extinction and more. She even throws in a note about the oxpecker, a bird with a symbiotic relationship to rhinos, which explains our grumpy yet devoted rhino.

This is a sweet and tender story about true blue friends. Don’t miss the party.

Poor Xander the panda really wants to throw a panda party at the zoo where he lives, but he’s the only panda there. After he decides to invite all the bears instead, he soon comes to realize that Koala is not actually a bear. So, he invites all the mammals, but Rhinoceros won’t attend without […]
Review by

Very young children tend to have great energy, and they have a joyful, infectious sort of hubris to boot. Caldecott Honor-winning author/illustrator David Ezra Stein knows this and embodies this energy in Dinah, a baby dinosaur, the star of his new picture book, Dinosaur Kisses.

Dinah hatches newly from her egg and heads out: “There was so much to see and do.” She stomps and chomps with the grace of a sumo wrestler, but it’s when she sees two prehistoric creatures kissing that she’s determined to try this herself.

The problem, however, is that she lacks the agility to properly pull off a gentle kiss and ends up whomping, chomping and stomping everyone she meets. In one very funny illustration, her kiss turns into a giant bite on the backside of a dinosaur. “Whoops,” she says, as she hangs by her teeth from a brontosaurus rump. Later, she actually swallows another creature in a vain attempt to more carefully use her lips in the act of kissing. There’s a lot of humor in these bumbling moments: In one, she stomps on and flattens a fish walking on two legs. So much for that species. Dinah stomps happily on.

It’s only when another dinosaur baby emerges from a nearby egg that the two come up with their own brand of kissing: more chomping, stomping and whomping. A boisterous head-butt is their version of affection. Great minds think alike.

Infused with lively, attention-grabbing yellows and cheerful, stimulating oranges to match Dinah’s mood, the book is filled with thick black outlines and chunky lettering, including a larger, louder font for the “STOMP!”s and “WHOMP!”s and “KRAK!”s. The book’s dominating horizontal line, as we watch Dinah stomp along the horizon, makes for compelling page turns, also matching the great energy of the book.

It’s big, loud fun for rowdy, raucous toddlers. Mwah!

Very young children tend to have great energy, and they have a joyful, infectious sort of hubris to boot. Caldecott Honor-winning author/illustrator David Ezra Stein knows this and embodies this energy in Dinah, a baby dinosaur, the star of his new picture book, Dinosaur Kisses. Dinah hatches newly from her egg and heads out: “There […]

Sign Up

Stay on top of new releases: Sign up for our newsletter to receive reading recommendations in your favorite genres.

Trending Features