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All Picture Book Coverage

Artist and poet Douglas Florian has created numerous award-winning picture books over the years, including Dinothesaurus and Insectlopedia. A book by Florian is often destined to become part of family lore, lovingly passed down from child to child to grandchild. And that’s certainly true of his newest title, Windsongs: Poems about Weather

Each poem in this appealing collection appears in white lettering on a bright page, opposite illustrations rendered with gouache paint, colored pencils and rubber stamps on primed paper bags, giving the volume a cheerful, homespun feel. Weather, of course, fascinates everyone, and after reading this book, kids and parents alike might find themselves creating their own poems, inspired by Florian’s poetry about the dew, drought, thunder and frost, among other topics. 

Some of the poems here are silly, others playful or evocative. A poem entitled “Fog” begins: “The fog is just a cloud that’s lost. / A cloud that’s gone astray. / It woke up in a hazy daze / and slowly lost its way.” The collection concludes with a poem about climate change, including a reminder that “Mars is too cold, and Venus too hot. / Our blue planet Earth is all that we’ve got.” Back matter includes a glossary and weather websites for kids. Windsongs is a gift for the whole family!

After reading Windsongs, kids and parents alike might find themselves creating their own poems, inspired by Douglas Florian’s poetry about the dew, drought, thunder and frost.

In London, Nate Macabuag designs and builds prosthetics for people with limb differences. “To be able to give someone something that they didn’t have access to before—it’s a good feeling,” he says. At Chicago’s Field Museum, Lauren Nassef helps care for specimens used in scientific research. And in the Bronx, shopkeepers Dan Treiber and Reina Mia Brill spend their days surrounded by toys. “We sell things that bring people joy,” Dan says. “We sell happiness!” 

Those are just a few of the 28 professions depicted in Shaina Feinberg and Julia Rothman’s fascinating and inspiring Work: Interviews with People Doing Jobs They Love

The duo, who write and illustrate the New York Times’ popular Scratch column (about “money—and the people who deal with it”), previously teamed up for How We Got By, a collection of 111 personal accounts about getting through hardships. This time, they wanted to create a book for kids in the vein of their newspaper column. 

For Work, Feinberg and Rothman interviewed people around the world about their skills, motivations, daily tasks and favorite aspects of their careers. The answers are varied and intriguing, presented in brief biographies that also include discussion prompts such as “If you could invent anything, what would it be?” Rothman’s art is detailed and vibrant, ranging from portraits of people at their jobs, to illustrations of a wildland firefighter’s helicopter and a cobbler’s custom shoes.

Those looking for answers to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” will delight in learning how youthful propensities might translate into grown-up jobs: For example, an artist who climbed trees as a child now paints murals on very tall buildings. They’ll also gain insight into Rothman’s and Feinberg’s own work via the final entries in this engaging, illuminating collection, as well as the “How We Made This Book” section that follows. 

Another nice touch: The duo note that many illustrations were based on photos, and include credits for each one, ensuring that, from start to finish, their book explores, celebrates and values work and the people who undertake it. Work is a helpful resource and entertaining read that’s sure to broaden horizons and inspire exploration.

 

From start to finish, Shaina Feinberg and Julia Rothman’s book explores, celebrates and values work and the people who undertake it. Work is a helpful resource and entertaining read that’s sure to broaden horizons and inspire exploration.
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With nearly 50 books under his belt, beloved author and illustrator Barney Saltzberg turns his attention to canines in his latest zany offering, The Smell of Wet Dog: And Other Dog Poems and Drawings. He proclaims his love in the first poem, “I Love Dogs,” followed by the title verse, which describes their odor as “Imagine moose and skunk perfume. / An odiferous stench, a paint-peeling plume.”

Young readers will relish these often rip-roaringly funny short poems, with lines like “A long stretchy / drizzle of slobbery ooze / dribbles and splats / on my favorite shoes.” Kids will readily identify with lines like “It’s hard to sit. / It’s hard to stay. / Who makes these rules up, anyway?”

This is a celebration of all things dog—the good, the bad and the smelly—that adult dog lovers will enjoy as well. Saltzberg’s endearing spot illustrations complete the package, with big-eyed dogs of all shapes and sizes cavorting, rolling around in messes, leaping into the air and staring pleadingly at each other and the reader. How can you not fall in love? There are poignant moments as well, with poems about a lost dog, an aging pet and the undying adoration that dogs have for their owners—and vice versa. (Cat lovers: a sequel is likely in store, as the last page features a cat saying, “You forgot . . . / the cat!”)

The Smell of Wet Dog is chock-full of luscious light verse designed to draw in even the most reluctant of poetry readers.

The Smell of Wet Dog is chock-full of luscious light verse designed to draw in even the most reluctant of poetry readers.
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The City Sings Green & Other Poems About Welcoming Wildlife is an inspirational treasure trove that introduces young readers to the concept of rewilding, showing how cities and communities around the world are repairing some of the environmental damage caused by human habitation. Focusing on 11 intriguing examples, Erica Silverman has created a unique blend of poetry, science, civics and activism. 

Each story is compelling: a honeybee highway in Oslo, Norway; a Los Angeles school that tore up their asphalt playground to create a natural oasis; and cities in Australia that built rope bridges over highways so that western ringtail possums might safely cross. Silverman introduces each short lesson with a poem celebrating an ecological achievement, accompanied by a prose explanation of the specific details. It’s a winning combination that succinctly informs and delights, while helpful back matter provides additional resources. Both the poetry and prose of The City Sings Green are widely accessible.

Ginnie Hsu’s cheery illustrations are an ecological feast, filled with bright colors that readily convey the benefits of each endeavor. Her art is particularly immersive, leaving readers feeling as though they’ve practically taken a walk through many of the places described, often seen from an animal’s point of view.  

The City Sings Green is inspiring, and likely to encourage budding environmentalists to more closely consider the intersection between humans and nature. 

The City Sings Green is inspiring, and likely to encourage budding environmentalists to more closely consider the intersection between humans and nature.
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Tamales for Christmas transports readers right into Grandma’s kitchen, filled with warmth, comfort and creativity. . “Her kitchen is the heartbeat of our familia, loud and cramped and perfumed with delicious smells,” states the book’s narration. Grandma is based on author Stephen Briseño’s grandmother and her cooking skills, legendary among her numerous children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  

With the holidays approaching, Grandma sells her tamales to make money for Christmas gifts, and the bright, saturated colors of Sonia Sánchez’s art immediately infuse a festive spirit into this big-hearted tale. Gray-haired Grandma always has a smile on her face, delighted as she enlists her entire family’s help with her project. Each spread oozes joyous commotion: pots steam on the stove, children run from room to room, Grandma’s busy hands layer the corn husks. Her work begins in the fall and lasts until Christmas, sometimes before dawn as well as at night. There’s an ongoing tally of the tamales she makes, starting with 15 dozen and ending at 1,000 dozen—12,000 tamales! Young readers will enjoy keeping track of the count, as well as the repeated refrain, “With masa in one hand, corn husks in the other,” used to describe the matriarch’s efforts. 

While heroic and quick to help out neighbors, Grandma is also human. As the months pass, she keeps making her specialty, even on Halloween night. She whips up a big feast for Thanksgiving—no tamales, however—and finally takes a well-earned break in early December, propping her feet up on the couch, “long enough to play a game, weave stories that get everyone laughing so hard our eyes tear up and our sides hurt.”

Briseño never loses sight of the holiday spirit. As the narrator says, “We finally enjoy the best present Grandma could have given us. Each other.” Both story and art shine in Tamales for Christmas, making readers feel as though they’re part of this big, loving family. 

Both story and art shine in the festive Tamales for Christmas, making readers feel as though they’re part of the book’s big, loving family.
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Thank You, Everything is a unique picture book meant to be enjoyed over and over: It may easily become a favorite of preschoolers as well as young elementary students. One morning, a child wakes up, eats breakfast and receives a box containing a mysterious treasure map that launches a grand journey. Told with minimal prose, this intriguing tale opens up the world to readers in a multitude of fascinating ways, leading them on a grand adventure that lasts for months and involves travel by bicycle, train, bus, plane, raft and hot-air balloon.

Icinori—the design and illustration duo of Mayumi Otero and Raphael Urwiller—use a bold yet limited color palette that favors shades of turquoise and rust to create wildly stylized, dynamic illustrations. Their graphic designs are eye-catching throughout, whether portraying a glass of water, jungles of wild animals or winding pathways reminiscent of an M.C. Escher painting. The pacing is perfect, prompting readers to appreciate and take close-up looks at small details (a bath towel, a canteen, a caterpillar) while also admiring big, beautiful landscapes (a bustling city, a dark forest lit by a full moon, a mountainside strewn with boulders, a mysterious palace).

The narrative, translated from French by Emilie Robert Wong, is equally distinctive. Just as Goodnight Moon uses a repeated refrain, the explorer in this picture book, as the title suggests, thanks each and every thing encountered, starting simple (“Thank you, alarm clock) and getting progressively more intriguing (“Thank you, volcano”). This delicious blend of art and prose is both soothing and exciting, and will encourage young imaginations to soar. The mystery of the final destination—where a surprise awaits—will keep readers engaged from start to satisfying conclusion.

Thank You, Everything is a delightful book filled with wonder and gratitude, feelings that will linger with readers long after they close its cover.

Thank You, Everything is a delightful book filled with wonder and gratitude, feelings that will linger with readers long after they close its cover.
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Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” is so well known and so often quoted that its beauty has almost become staid from overuse: It could use a refresh. In this picture book, author Richard T. Morris and illustrator Julie Rowan-Zoch have taken Frost’s words off the shelf, given them a dusting, added a kid and a hippopotamus, and created a delightful, charming and clever tale. Stopping by Jungle on a Snowy Evening is an irreverent homage that will leave all readers smiling. 

Stopping by Jungle on a Snowy Evening begins with a little boy riding a blue hippopotamus through the wintry woods as he recites Frost’s famous opening, but with a hippopotamus instead of the poem’s “little horse.” However, he is interrupted by the poet himself, who climbs out of his window to correct him. Their conversation becomes increasingly ridiculous as the child imagines even more bizarre answers to the poet’s logical objections. Things get delightfully out of hand, ending in complete chaos and an unlikely inspiration for yet another famous poem. Richard T. Morris narrates with an easy, conversational and factual tone. While Frost and his young rewriter come from very different places, their chatty exchanges feel more collaborative than conflicting. 

Julie Rowan-Zoch’s cartoon-like depiction of the protagonist is immediately familiar and loveable: curious, imaginative and a little cheeky, wearing a backwards hat and slide sandals. In contrast, Frost is drawn in a more traditional style. Rowan-Zoch’s bold, clever art mashes both their worlds together; a classically painted snowy forest scene right out of Frost’s original poem is delightfully invaded by snakes, jungle birds and a karate hippo. As Frost’s world unravels—snow falls in the jungle, cookies fall from the sky—the exasperated poet’s appearance also becomes more and more ragged. Reality and imagination smash together, and the result is perfect hilarity.

Stopping by Jungle on a Snowy Evening is a rare find. It’s a combo of old and new, clever and classic, innovative and familiar—perfect for any fathomable storytime scenario. Even more rare, there isn’t a single thing this reviewer would change about it. Two thumbs up.

Stopping by Jungle on a Snowy Evening is a rare find. It’s a combo of old and new, clever and classic, innovative and familiar—perfect for any fathomable storytime scenario.

Former Young People’s Poet Laureate Naomi Shihab Nye is one of the most distinguished and celebrated poets writing today. Grace Notes, her magnificent, evocative new poetry collection, is dedicated to the memory of her mother, Miriam Naomi Allwardt Shihab, who passed away in 2021 at the age of 94. 

In her introduction, Nye shares how she first came to creating poetry about families, and the ways in which she encourages young writers. She tells readers, “I honor my beautiful, brave mother and know she might take issue with a few of my perspectives, but that’s okay. . . . I hope that anyone who reads these poems has occasion to think about their own family members even more than mine. It’s our lifetime project. It helps us keep living.”

While the masterful poems in Grace Notes evoke the specific history of her mother’s life and, later, the author’s grief at her passing, Nye never leaves readers out of the frame. Throughout, the poet encourages readers to ask questions and think deeply. In the very first poem, “How Parents Get Together Anyway,” she describes her parents’ meeting and marriage, then asks, “What about you? How did your parents / end up in the same spot?” 

A powerful, deeply felt book that will make a thoughtful gift for both teens and adults.

While the masterful poems in Grace Notes evoke the specific history of her mother’s life, Nye never leaves readers out of the frame, encouraging them to ask questions and think deeply.

Young readers devour books in graphic format, whether they’re novels, graphic nonfiction, traditional comics—or innovative works like Vikram Madan’s newest, Beware the Dragon and the Nozzlewock: A Graphic Novel Poetry Collection Full of Surprising Characters!. Having worked as an engineer before returning to his first love of “rhyming and doodling,” Madan has created more than a dozen books, including the poetry collection A Hatful of Dragons.

Madan’s latest is funny and quirky—the sort of book you give to kids who claim not to like poetry, as well as those who do. The interconnected poems feature goofy, silly creatures like ghosts who turn into ghost guppies, squishosaurs, and the Nozzlewock (you’ll have to read to find out more). Throughout, Mandan’s background in STEM shines through, in poems on topics like wormholes and scientists. 

Madan celebrates wordplay, and doesn’t shy away from unusual or long words. As the squishosaurs explain, “Where other dinos trot or plod, / We undulate and flow. / Our protoplasmic pseudopods / Are silent as the snow.” Madan’s artistic style is appealing; the panels vary in size and are easy to read, making this a great choice for readers new to the graphic format.

Bursting with energy and bright images, Beware the Dragon and the Nozzlewock is smart, sassy and perfect for reading alone or out loud together. It’s already on this reviewer’s list for a certain 8-year-old! 

Bursting with energy and bright images, Beware the Dragon and the Nozzlewock is smart, sassy and perfect for reading alone or out loud together.
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Allan Say has had a long, storied career as a children’s author and illustrator. He won the 1994 Caldecott for Grandfather’s Journey, about his grandfather’s voyages from Japan to America and back, and wrote about his own childhood in The Ink-Keeper’s Apprentice. Say was born in Japan in 1937, came to the United States at age 16, and eventually settled in Portland, Oregon, in 1999. Tonbo is a contemplative, creative look back on his own life, accompanied by his beautifully luminous oil paintings. 

Tonbo follows an old man with a cane taking a morning stroll through the park. A large white bird startles him, reminding him of a toy airplane he once had as a child, which he called “Tonbo,” the Japanese word for dragonfly. Suddenly engulfed in his memories, he chases after the elusive toy, finding himself mysteriously transported to a number of places from his youth, and each person he encounters treats him as if he is getting younger. “What are you looking for, young man?” one woman asks. When a captain calls him “son,” the man laughs, saying, “Excuse me, but I may be older than your father.” 

At first, readers see everything from the old man’s perspective. We see the people he encounters and sometimes his shadow. Say’s use of color is magnificent, using mostly muted, dreamlike tones highlighted by intense blocks of color—an orange chimney and mint green roof set against a dark blue ocean; the teal blue of the sky; the green awning and pink outer wall of an ice cream shop. It is at the ice cream shop where the protagonist realizes that the young man he sees in the window is his own reflection. It’s a sophisticated, nuanced progression that may take a few readings for some children to understand, but once they do, it will seem like magic. 

Eventually, the protagonist becomes his kindergartener self, back in a garden in Japan, where he finally finds his beloved airplane. Moments later, he’s an old man once more, back with his “old friends—aching hands and knees.” He encounters a group of children on a field trip and leaves them a special gift, in a lovely gesture that brings to mind the circle of life.

Tonbo is a remarkable ode to the interplay between aging and memory, and how the distant past can suddenly come to life again in the blink of an eye. It’s also a wonderful multigenerational conversation starter about how certain memories can live inside us forever. 

 

Tonbo is a remarkable ode to the interplay between aging and memory, and how the distant past can suddenly come to life again in the blink of an eye.

Umami, a little brown-and-white penguin, lives with lots of other penguins in a snow-blanketed village by the sea. It’s a lovely place, with one unfortunate exception: “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the penguin village ate cold fish. For dessert? Cold fish. Your birthday? More cold fish.”

The budding gastronome and eponymous star of Jacob Grant’s Umami has had enough. While the other penguins seem content with their limited menu, Umami craves variety and she’s determined to find it, even if she has to take a solo journey across the sea.

When she lands in a new place bustling with a variety of food stands patronized by all sorts of animal customers, tantalizing aromas convince Umami to dive right in. “Oh, my sweet little beak!” she thinks, “Nothing ever smelled so spectacular.” A whirlwind of gastronomic delirium ensues as the plucky penguin samples everything she’s been missing: Salty or sour, bitter or sweet, spicy or her namesake umami, Umami tries it all, her taste buds tingling as her gustatory horizons open wide. She must share these wondrous new foods with the village!

Back home, Umami nervously presents her neighbors with a surprise feast. It’s a sweet gesture—and the backdrop for hilarious tableaux in which her guests’ widened eyes and sidelong glances crescendo into glorious milk-glugging, fire-breathing, table-flopping chaos. Dramatics aside, though, they finish every bite. Perhaps Umami has a future as chef for her newly hungry village?

Grant’s art for Umami won the 2024 Bologna Children’s Book Fair Illustration Exhibition, and it’s easy to see why: It’s expressive, adorable, visually witty and the perfect accompaniment to his inspiring, amusing story about the joys of living life with flavor and gusto. Umami will prompt readers to have fun identifying dishes they recognize or choosing new ones to try, as well as spotting loads of amusing details throughout (the squirrel who’s shocked at the size of Umami’s pasta order is not to be missed). Umami is a festive treat of a book sure to make storytimes and mealtimes even more delicious.

Umami is a festive treat of a book sure to make storytimes and mealtimes even more delicious.
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Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, a blue whale dies peacefully while making her 90th annual migration to northern waters. Through Emmy Award-winner (for Bill Nye the Science Guy) Lynn Brunelle’s poetic writing and Caldecott Medalist Jason Chin’s splendid illustrations, Life After Whale explores how the death of the largest animal on Earth leads to a sublime explosion of new life. As a blue whale’s body—which measures up to 110 feet long, with a heart that alone weighs 400 pounds—descends to the sea floor, “a whole new world will arise,” with millions of organisms congregating to find sustenance and shelter from what scientists call a whale fall.

Death isn’t an easy topic to tackle in a picture book, but Brunelle’s gorgeous prose successfully frames the whale’s passing not as a tragedy, but as a tranquil and essential part of nature. Both old and young readers will be captivated by the strange, sublime process of the whale fall, as this magnificent creature becomes a vast forest that provides for countless fascinating inhabitants of the deep sea: hagfish, crabs, mussels, sea cucumbers and more. 

As Brunelle describes in clear, vivid language what amounts to over a hundred years’ worth of complex food chains and species interactions, Chin includes spot diagrams of processes and specific sea life that show readers what to look for in the book’s larger illustrations, which often stretch across the majority of a spread. Chin’s elegant watercolor and gouache art is crucial to the majestic atmosphere that makes Life After Whale an exemplary science book for children: With his careful details and grand compositions, the processes of decomposition and scavenging—such as a “larva of a bone-eating zombie worm” attaching itself to one of the whale’s rib bones—become beautiful and otherworldly instead of grotesque. Life After Whale is the perfect book to encourage young potential scientists to see the cycles of nature as intriguing rather than scary. Reading it ignites the kind of extravagant wonder that you might feel while exploring the moon. 

Life After Whale is the perfect book to encourage young potential scientists to see the cycles of nature as intriguing rather than scary. Reading it ignites the kind of extravagant wonder that you might feel while exploring the moon.
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Miss Leoparda, a delightful fable written and illustrated by Natalia Shaloshvili, opens with the titular character secure in the embrace of her treetop bed, surrounded by quiet rolling hills, which she traverses every day in her work as a bus driver. Miss Leoparda reliably shuttles a variety of animals—many of whom wear fetching hats and other winsome accessories—to do “their animal business.” It’s an idyllic image of communal life: Every seat on the bus is taken, and rabbits, zebras, cats, bears, elephants and even a rather suspicious-looking wolf peacefully share space with one another.

One day, a gas-guzzling, exhaust-spewing car zips past the slow-moving bus, drawing the animals’ attention: “That was amazing!” they exclaim. The novelty of new technology lures the animals, one by one, away from the bus and behind the wheels of their own individual cars. But soon the streets are clogged with traffic, the skies are choked with smog, and the animals are increasingly irritable. Even Miss Leoparda’s beloved tree is targeted when it’s time to expand the roadways to make room for what some might call progress.

Miss Leoparda refuses to give in to this hollow enticement, however, and she eventually finds a creative, sustainable solution to restore her community and the environment at the same time. The message feels organic rather than heavy-handed, reinforced by the pleasantly hazy illustrations created in acrylic paint and watercolor crayons. Shaloshvili’s artwork is as expressive in its landscapes—the greenery of Miss Leoparda’s original habitat contrasting with the dour gray of the traffic jam—and on a more intimate scale, as the animals’ expressions, somewhat reminiscent of Jon Klassen’s illustrations, manage to be both deadpan and surprisingly expressive. This one’s sure to get budding environmentalists eager to enact change in their own communities. 

A delightful fable, Miss Leoparda feels organic rather than heavy-handed, its message reinforced by Natalia Shaloshvili’s pleasantly hazy illustrations created in acrylic paint and watercolor crayons.

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