Jill Lorenzini

Books are stealthy: tucked into engaging adventures we often find lessons in bravery, kindness and perseverance. In the best books, we also find inspiration. Shining light on women endeavoring to create their own futures, Ernestine’s Milky Way and Born to Ride are two promising stories set against the backdrop of American history. These are two cheerful, thoughtful tributes to the many countless women who donned bloomers, kept their heads up when the path was thorny and forged ahead to the future.

In the midst of World War II, in a lush valley of the Great Smoky Mountains, Ernestine—a determined 5-year-old—sets off on a very important errand. With her dad away at war, all the chores fall to Ernestine and her mother. Life back then wasn’t easy or convenient. Their days were full of hard work, but also kindness, imagination and courage. Ernestine will need every one of these if she’s going to deliver milk to her neighbors a long walk away. Wrapped in the magic of adventure, Ernestine’s Milky Way is a lesson in determination.

Ernestine’s story rings with the sounds of life in the Smokies. Author Kerry Madden-Lunsford gracefully employs local dialect in order to give readers a sense of location and time. In addition, Madden-Lunsford makes resourceful use of animal sounds, descriptive language and poetic expressions to place us on the trail with Ernestine.

Illustrator Emily Sutton fills her pages with flora, fauna and lush, subdued color. Ernestine’s path takes her through brambles and berries and barbed-wire fences, which Sutton illustrates with fine detail and unrestricted enthusiasm. Sutton’s eager brush strokes convey a sense of wildness and awe, while chickens, fire-burning stoves, banjos, barrels and wagons plant the story firmly in its time.

Based on the recollections of the author’s friend, the real-life Ernestine, Ernestine’s Milky Way gives readers a snapshot of country life in the 1940s. Today, the idea of a five-year-old being sent on errands alone is foreign and even shocking, but that was the reality for many farm children who shouldered much of the work of this era.

Also shining light on an era of U.S. history, Born to Ride, by Larissa Theule, begins with the “cannots” of a late-19th century girl. But there is one cannot that young Louisa Belinda will not abide. Despite the rules, despite what the adults might think, even despite the threat of getting permanent “bicycle face,” Louisa Belinda is determined to learn to ride a bike. But as Louisa Belinda conquers the bike, a new era is being wheeled into her town, assisted by her mother—who has a few surprises of her own.

Illustrator Kelsey Garrity-Riley creates a small-town Rochester, New York, that is charming and cheerful. Garrity-Riley fills her pages with the trappings of 19th century; milkmen and pinafores, feathered hats and horse-drawn carriages. The suffragettes are calmly at work, making signs and planning a rally. Small details—rally buttons, a poster for Susan B. Anthony’s speech—lend historical authenticity. In this exciting environment, a young girl is bravely forging her own future.

Theule narrates in a youthful, conversational tone that invites discussion and questions. And young readers may have many: the idea of scandalous bloomers, no vote for women and the threat of bicycle face seems unbelievable and downright ridiculous to today’s girls. While Louisa Belinda’s own bike riding is met with little resistance, three concluding pages of historic photos and facts about “wheelwomen” and the suffragette movement help open the door to the genuine gritty struggles women faced. 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read Larissa Theule’s fascinating essay on wheelwomen and bicycle face here.

Around the world, fairy tales have been passed down for centuries. They’re used to share traditions, reflect culture, teach lessons and entertain. The old stories are timeless; newcomers simply add beauty and breadth to this beloved genre. Two new picture books, The Great Gran Plan and Little Red Reading Hood and the Misread Wolf, prove there are still clever, undiscovered ways to find your happily ever after.

The Great Gran Plan, written by Elli Woollard and brilliantly illustrated by Steven Lenton, begins when the smart pig (the bricklayer) discovers the bad wolf’s granny-guzzling to-do list and hops in his van to save Little Red Riding Hood’s grandma. However, our unlikely hero becomes bogged down by his search for supplies, gets caught in a case of mistaken identity, and may need some rescuing of his own.

The Great Gran Plan boasts fairies and poison apples, glass slippers and wishing wells. References to countless fairy tales are craftily tucked into each page, and readers will have a blast discovering the Three Bears’ “Just Right” store (where everything comes in three sizes) and “Peep’s Bo-tique” (staffed by a helpful sheep named “Baarb”). Lenton’s imaginative images will have readers inspecting every page for sneaky details in a hysterical who’s-who of fairy-tale land. Keep an eye on the cat, who ends up a little worse for wear every time the pig gets in the van. Bonus points if you spot Captain Hook.

Woollard’s narration rhymes and rolls with alliteration and assonance, building momentum and hilarity and making it an ideal read-together. Full of beloved characters and witty predicaments, The Great Gran Plan will become a delightful new bookshelf favorite.

While wolves usually play the bad guy, recent fairy tales have recast the big, bad dude as misunderstood, misrepresented or maligned. Written by Troy Wilson and illustrated by Ilaria Campana, Little Red Reading Hood and the Misread Wolf turns this familiar fairy tale on its head with an intelligent and literary twist.

Wilson and Campana’s book has all the familiar tropes: a sneaky wolf in spectacles, a missing Grandma and a strong woodsman. But Wilson’s Red is brave, bright, well read and has no desire to be eaten. Wilson’s narration is laid-back, humorous and an effortless read-aloud. Readers will laugh when the granny-impersonating wolf loses his cool with an “Oh, forget it!” and gasp when the woodsman charges in, ax ready. Campana’s illustrations are vibrant and sharp with a cartoony feel that will appeal to children.

Much less grim than the original (nobody gets eaten or attacked with the ax), Little Red Reading Hood and the Misread Wolf invites us into a timeless world that has just the right amount of spooky. It’s a classic tale with modern sensibility that gives new life to a very old story.

The fall holiday season is a time for gathering with loved ones and for sharing foods we wait for all year long. But how often do we consider the inherited significance behind our festive tables? How often do we truly give thanks for the food before us? Two new picture books, Fry Bread: A Native American Family Story and Apple Cake: A Gratitude, reveal how food—and the act of creating and sharing it—can mean much more than a contented stomach.

In Kevin Noble Maillard’s Fry Bread, a family gathers to prepare a traditional Native American fry bread meal. For each step—mixing, frying and waiting—the bread represents an important aspect of their heritage. They may be making fry bread, but what they are truly creating is family, tradition and abiding pride in both.

Deftly illustrated by Juana Martinez-Neal, every page of Fry Bread is imbued with Native American history and culture. Echoes of ancient cave art, symbolic tattoos, handmade baskets and ceremonial designs tell a story of tradition. Family names (written by the illustrator’s children) and an image of the author’s aunt (who taught him to make fry bread) give Fry Bread an incredibly personal, cherished feel. Soft and subdued, Fry Bread is warm, inviting and uplifting.

Although Fry Bread’s narrative stands on its own, its message continues in a comprehensive author’s note. Over several pages, Maillard details the origins of fry bread as well as the complicated and often overlooked history of Native Americans in the United States. Maillard, who is an enrolled citizen of the Seminole Nation, also raises current issues, including health and medical care, racial diversity within today’s Native communities and the continuing struggle for recognition. With a list of additional references and resources, Fry Bread’s backmatter serves as an accessible resource tucked inside a children’s picture book. Rich with smells and sounds, Fry Bread radiates with Native American pride, the sharing of traditions and the love of family.

Unpretentious and charming, Dawn Casey’s Apple Cake follows a little girl in bright yellow boots as she and her energetic pup greet farm animals and tromp through fields to gather the ingredients to make apple cake. At each step, the girl acknowledges all the living things and elements that will come together to make her meal, including trees, bees, cows and rain. Once she finally makes her way home, she (and a few new friends) helps turn the apples, honey and milk into a treat.

Told with an easy rhyme scheme and friendly language, Apple Cake speaks to even the youngest readers. Reminiscent of a lullaby or prayer, Apple Cake offers assurance in its comforting rhythms and the heartening words of thanks. Genevieve Godbout’s illustrations have old-fashioned sensibility. Muted, pastel colors and gentle lines give movement to the land, while colored-pencil strokes create a world that is delicate in texture, almost enchanted. The animals are calm and familiar, and the simple, bold faces of characters are amiable and timeless.

The finishing touch for a book that will genuinely bring people together is a recipe for apple cake, which sagely includes advice for cooking with children. Just as Apple Cake’s story concludes with a picnic, reading this book may result in a trip to an apple orchard and homey smells from your own oven.

We all inherit legacies: stories, traditions and skills passed down through generations. Some legacies tie us not only to our ancestors but also to the natural world. These two picture books honor such legacies and the invaluable lessons we learn from those who come before us.

Written by Newbery Medalist Patricia MacLachlan and illustrated by Chris Sheban, When Grandfather Flew is a tender story of a grandfather whose love of birds creates a lasting connection with his grandchildren.

Binoculars in hand, Grandfather teaches his grandchildren the names of birds. But even when they aren’t out birding, Grandfather has wisdom to offer, which he shares when he tells stories of their late grandmother, helps an injured chickadee and explains why eagles are his favorite birds.

MacLachlan gently touches on themes of aging and loss, approaching the topic of death with both a child’s simple honesty and the hard-earned wisdom of a long life lived well. Her narration is plain-spoken, conversational and earnest.

Sheban illustrates on rough paper using soft, blurry pastels, with linework in watercolor and graphite. Every inch of his full-bleed artwork is filled with color and texture. There’s a hazy, faded feeling to his images that echoes Grandfather’s failing eyesight and fits the story perfectly. However, like details we don’t forget even as our memories wane, a few images stand out: a piercing hawk’s eye, a kestrel in flight. Easily the most striking image in the book is an eagle winging high above the landscape, soaring over barns and trees. When Grandfather Flew is not a tear-jerker, but this moment left me feeling overcome.

When Grandfather Flew is a moving and intimate book with an underlying sense of gravity. For anyone who’s ever looked to the sky as they remembered someone they loved, it will be a story that resonates.

Some legacies are passed from one family member to another, while others carry the weight and traditions of generations. The First Blade of Sweetgrass: A Native American Story, written by Suzanne Greenlaw and Gabriel Frey and illustrated by Nancy Baker, tells the story of a grandmother teaching her granddaughter to pick sweetgrass—just as her own grandmother taught her.

It is a day of firsts for Musqon. It’s her first time seeing the ocean as well as her first time picking sweetgrass with her grandmother. But Musqon has a lot to learn, so Grandmother patiently shows her how to find the sweetgrass that they will weave into baskets. While they work, Grandmother shares stories of their ancestors, of her own childhood and of the sweetgrass’s importance.

Co-authors Greenlaw and Frey, who are citizens of the Houlton Band of Maliseet Indians and Passamaquoddy Nation respectively, write with generations of tradition and culture behind them. Their prose has a calm, patient tone that echoes Grandmother’s gentle ways and is rich with descriptive language, including lush portrayals of the book’s marsh setting and poetic lines like “the grass gave itself to her hand.”

In an afterword, the authors share a brief description of sweetgrass itself and discuss its history and importance to the Native people of the Wabanaki Confederacy. A glossary of Passamaquoddy-Maliseet words used in the book rounds out the back matter.

Illustrator Baker uses soft, muted earth tones to create artwork that feels ageless and conveys a sense of history, purpose and connection to the land. Her lovely wind-swept landscapes are full of detail without ever seeming harsh or sharp. Images that depict Grandmother’s past and the ancestors who came before are set off in frames made of sweetgrass braids.

The First Blade of Sweetgrass is full of meaningful messages, but particularly poignant is Grandmother’s reminder: “If we never pick the first blade, we will never pick the last one. We must make sure there will be sweetgrass here for the next generation.”