Jill Lorenzini

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Bears make the perfect storybook characters: curmudgeonly, routine-bound, honey-filled, with warm hearts hidden deep under fur and padding. Gerald Kelley’s charming Please Please the Bees joins the shelf of grumpy-bear-learns-a-lesson tales, and has a good reminder for gratitude and kindness in readers of all ages.

Benedict’s days are busy: errands, violin, knitting, bed, errands, violin, knitting, bee strike. Bee strike? Putting a honey-less damper on his day, the bees refuse to work, citing an unacceptable yard and deplorable hive conditions. Life without honey is flat-out miserable. But dry toast and an uncompromising bee might be just the motivation Benedict needs to clean up his self-centered lifestyle and overgrown yard.

Kelley thoughtfully tells his story with both words and pictures, injecting his simple narration with punchy, fed-up bee dialogue—these bees mean business. Benedict’s smashed violin and tangled yarn underline the honey-less dreadfulness, while Benedict’s furrowed brow lets us in on his earnest inner struggle. Warm, soft colors and detail-filled pages will keep eyes of all ages busy. Earbuds, sunglasses and a computer add a touch of modernity, while wind chimes and cozy quilts make Benedict’s world appealing and homey. Bee strike signs and raincoat-clad bees subtly add humor while underlining the stern message.

There is no lack of grouchy bear books, but there is always room for one that is cleverly told. Please Please the Bees is a good reminder for all of us: A little thankfulness and hard work—like a few jars of honey—goes a long way.

Bears make the perfect storybook characters: curmudgeonly, routine-bound, honey-filled, with warm hearts hidden deep under fur and padding. Gerald Kelley’s charming Please Please the Bees joins the shelf of grumpy-bear-learns-a-lesson tales, and has a good reminder for gratitude and kindness in readers of all ages.

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Rain, like heavy snow, is an inconvenience, delaying our important, grown-up tasks. But for kids, a waterlogged street is an opportunity for an extraordinary day. Author-illustrator Sam Usher throws open the front door to whomever, or whatever, might pass by.

Rain begins with rain—lots of it. Granddad is reluctant to go outside, but Sam knows there are monsters and voyages out in that soaking, reflective world. While their home is warm and cozy, the storm beckons, and our imagination grows wings (or perhaps a rudder).

Usher is a storybook wizard, using simple first-person language to tell a story that resonates with children. He even manages to peg the reasonable, calm voice grown-ups use to speak with kids (and that kids often echo). His illustrations, while unpretentious, are detailed, artistic and colorful; the raindrops are so realistic they could be photographs. Little reader spotting tip: Watch the stuffed animals, who seem to mimic Sam’s moods and occasionally sport seriously bored expressions.

While Rain is a fun read in its own right, it’s also a delightful elbow-in-the-side reminder to look up from our adult routines once in a while. After all, you never know what might float by.

 

This article was originally published in the April 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Rain, like heavy snow, is an inconvenience, delaying our important, grown-up tasks. But for kids, a waterlogged street is an opportunity for an extraordinary day. Author-illustrator Sam Usher throws open the front door to whomever, or whatever, might pass by.

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When a book unfolds as beautifully and thoughtfully as Deborah Freedman’s This House, Once, it’s easy to forget the hard work that goes into creating a story, much like we take the objects around us for granted. This House, Once gently opens our eyes to the craftsmanship and histories that surround us daily.

Freedman builds her story as she piece-by-piece builds a house. A small, lyrical statement accompanies each object (door, window, roof) as it is presented as part of the growing house. A beautiful, full-color, wordless spread follows, in which each item returns to where it began: the windows to the sandy beach, the wooden door to the heart of a tree. But Freedman’s is not a story about deforestation. Hers is a world of attentive shaping and art, the act of creating a home to protect and care for those living inside. Curious wild animals prod the mud and frolic on the pages, adding another layer of belonging and contentment.

Freedman’s illustrations are subdued and soft, but with detail that demonstrates her architectural background. Even the snowstorm that engulfs the house seems less a threat than an invitation to sit by the fireplace. Like a craftsperson with her tools, Freedman chooses her words with precision and significance. Her un-rhymed poetry rings with unique metaphors and similes, polished with gentle alliteration. Freedman also endows the house with sentiment and thought, a comforting reminder of where we call home.

The perfect gift for all ages, This House, Once will warm any home, regardless of the season. No fireplace needed.

When a book unfolds as beautifully and thoughtfully as Deborah Freedman’s This House, Once, it’s easy to forget the hard work that goes into creating a story, much like we take the objects around us for granted. This House, Once gently opens our eyes to the craftsmanship and histories that surround us daily.

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When winter comes, book-loving Bunny can no longer eavesdrop on the library’s outdoor story time. To feed his insatiable need for books, Bunny squeezes through the book-return drop at the library. When Bunny’s secreted stash of books starts a trend, several critter friends become regulars at the book drop—until they are discovered by the librarian. But if anybody understands the need to read, wouldn’t it be a librarian?

Author Annie Silvestro and illustrator Tatjana Mai-Wyss tell a cozy tale guaranteed to draw in readers and book lovers of all ages. Every page bursts with details, which will keep little eyes amused. Moths flutter in the beam of the flashlight, Bunny’s bunny slippers wait next to his bed, and carrot cupcakes are a burrow staple. Fabrics and books and woodland flora are elaborately sketched, creating a realistic, familiar world. Silvestro’s text is full of alliteration and description, and the forest creature dialogue rings with kid-friendly humor.

Bunny’s Book Club will prove worthy of story times large and small.

 

This article was originally published in the February 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

When winter comes, book-loving Bunny can no longer eavesdrop on the library’s outdoor story time. To feed his insatiable need for books, Bunny squeezes through the book-return drop at the library. When Bunny’s secreted stash of books starts a trend, several critter friends become regulars at the book drop—until they are discovered by the librarian. But if anybody understands the need to read, wouldn’t it be a librarian?

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Captain Alfred, farmer and small-ship captain, sets sail with a happy heart, his fiddle to brighten the journey and one special duck egg aboard. As you might predict, his trip is interrupted by an enormous and terrible storm, casting the captain and his ducks to sea. His beloved fiddle is lost to the waves, and all that remains is the egg—now hatching—in the fiddle case. Alfred Fiddleduckling is born into a solitary, foggy world. When the fiddle floats by, Alfred Fiddleduckling discovers the sound of friendship and hope as he clings to his new friend. He found music; will anybody find him?

Timothy Basil Ering (illustrator of The Tale of Despereaux) has a knack for expressively illustrated, slightly bizarre tales with endearing characters and deep messages. Like The Story of Frog Belly Rat Bone, Alfred Fiddleduckling’s tale is quirky and charming, and guaranteed to become a favorite.

With art that is both ethereal and tangible, Ering knows exactly what each scene needs and how to pull a reader’s focus.The stunningly fierce storm engulfs the reader with lightning, as Ering’s hurried brush strokes are visible and powerful in the whitecaps. Colorful, vague swirls depict music in the air, light and feathery against the fog. Captain Alfred’s wife’s anxiously clasped hands tell us of her long, fearful wait for her husband. While his illustrations stand alone, Ering’s narration adds a layer of emotion and personification that makes this book feel like a fable. Detailed and descriptive, one could imagine retelling this story—sans pictures—by the fireplace.

By the time Alfred Fiddleduckling’s story closes, readers will be enchanted by this tale of friendship and adventure, of compassion and courage. But what remains after the last page is the beautiful, swirling music, heartening and calming, beckoning us home again.

Captain Alfred, farmer and small-ship captain, sets sail with a happy heart, his fiddle to brighten the journey and one special duck egg aboard. As you might predict, his trip is interrupted by an enormous and terrible storm, casting the captain and his ducks to sea. His beloved fiddle is lost to the waves, and all that remains is the egg—now hatching—in the fiddle case. Alfred Fiddleduckling is born into a solitary, foggy world. When the fiddle floats by, Alfred Fiddleduckling discovers the sound of friendship and hope as he clings to his new friend. He found music; will anybody find him?

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Egg begins, as you might expect, with four brightly colored eggs. Three eggs hatch, and three brightly colored baby birds emerge: pink, yellow and blue. The fourth egg, of a reptilian-green shade, is in less of a hurry. The eager baby birds help their sibling along, their beaks eventually breaking the shell. But what emerges is slightly less than feathery and fluttery . . . and slightly more green and crawly. We begin with four eggs; will we end with four friends?

Deceptively simple (a trademark of Kevin Henkes), Egg proves entertaining and useful on multiple levels. Henkes’ characters stand out against a plain-white background, which focuses attention on their expressions. A talented illustrator, Henkes is able to convey facial expression and emotions with very few lines. Egg has minimal text, which allows readers to ad-lib, while repetition of simple words helps new readers practice sight words and phonics. Counting and colors will amuse the tiniest readers, while one page provides a very early look at synonyms. And, as with many of Henkes’ books, there is an underlying theme—albeit very simple—of acceptance and friendship and bravery.

Henkes is the recipient of both the Caldecott and Newbery Honors, with the rare ability to write across age groups. His longer stories (Chrysanthemum, Lily’s Purple Plastic Purse) are classics for young readers. His calm, boldly illustrated stories like Kitten’s First Full Moon are perfect bedtime tales.

Whether you read every word and name the birds, look at the pictures or make up your own tale, Henkes’ Egg is a delightful addition to any bookshelf.

Egg begins, as you might expect, with four brightly colored eggs. Three eggs hatch, and three brightly colored baby birds emerge: pink, yellow and blue. The fourth egg, of a reptilian-green shade, is in less of a hurry. The eager baby birds help their sibling along, their beaks eventually breaking the shell. But what emerges is slightly less than feathery and fluttery . . . and slightly more green and crawly. We begin with four eggs; will we end with four friends?

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Resisting bedtime is a rite of childhood; we are all experts at delay tactics, procrastination methods and just-one-more-drink-of-water tales. Into the world of bedtime books comes It Is Not Time for Sleeping by Lisa Graff, illustrated by Lauren Castillo. Offering an alternative to exhausted parents and stalling, Graff and Castillo help children ease into bedtime with routine and rhyme.

Most adults use the evening to transition into bed: We have things to check off our lists before our minds can rest; it’s the same for kids. It may be nearing time for bed, the yawns may be enormous, but bedtime doesn’t come until after baths are completed, teeth are brushed, favorite pajamas put on, stories are read. Even then, there is one final thing that is the most important of all.

Graff is clearly an expert on children, providing details that would feel extremely important to little ones. Perfect as a final bedtime story, Graff’s calm repetition of the completed tasks helps kids slow down and relax, putting their energetic minds at ease.

Castillo’s illustrations are bright and boldly colored, echoing a world of crayons and toys. The playful nature and silliness will initially engage little readers, and sleepy little ones will be reassured by its familiarity, With our narrator at last in bed, the colors and lights dim as the story nears the end.

If it’s nearing time for bed—but not quite—It Is Not Time for Sleeping might be just what your bedtime routine needs. Just don’t forget the goodnight kiss. 

Resisting bedtime is a rite of childhood; we are all experts at delay tactics, procrastination methods and just-one-more-drink-of-water tales. Into the world of bedtime books comes It Is Not Time for Sleeping by Lisa Graff, illustrated by Lauren Castillo. Offering an alternative to exhausted parents and stalling, Graff and Castillo help children ease into bedtime with routine and rhyme.

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There’s a bit of the Wild West spirit in all of us, even those of us who have never ridden a horse or slept by a campfire. Lingering in our blood, it’s a connection to the land, a compassion for the animals and people around us, a longing for wide skies and faraway stars. Written by Kate Hoefler and illustrated by Jonathan Bean, Real Cowboys strikingly echoes that spirit.

For many of us, cowboys are a thing of legends and old black-and-white movies; many little ones have never heard of a cattle drive. Real Cowboys is an ode to these men and women, a look back at an era very much gone, and also a cowboy primer for young readers. Simply and genuinely told, Real Cowboys covers all aspects of a cowboy’s tough life: lost cattle and fast dogs, blowing dust and prickly cactus plants, coyote songs and watchful nights.

Much like an unassuming, weatherworn cowboy telling a story, Hoefler unfolds the life of cowboys and cowgirls with simple, calm language. In some cases, her words are poetic and precise, and in others she lets the art speak and the imagination soar.

With art that is in turns colorful and muted, tumultuous and peaceful, artist Jonathan Bean perfectly captures the mood and the whims of the West. Bean masterfully captures not only dust storms and cattle drives, but also the moments of persistent, careful watching and lonely cowboy dreams. Vague, almost abstract, color-blocked shapes interlock, silhouettes pass through the background, making every spread a true Southwesterly work of art.

The perfect gift for the young and old cowboys in your life, Real Cowboys will have you heading west, even if only in your heart.

There’s a bit of the Wild West spirit in all of us, even those of us who have never ridden a horse or slept by a campfire. Lingering in our blood, it’s a connection to the land, a compassion for the animals and people around us, a longing for wide skies and faraway stars. Written by Kate Hoefler and illustrated by Jonathan Bean, Real Cowboys strikingly echoes that spirit.

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Outside his doghouse, it’s raining. Inside, things aren’t much cheerier, as Pug Man—who seriously overslept—faces a solitary day without breakfast, without coffee. The story begins exactly like a caffeine-deprived morning: few, tense words and muted colors. Then, like a toddler jumping on your bed at 4 a.m. on a Saturday, the story erupts with the arrival of a very colorful, over-enthusiastic and cheerful fairy. Animals, castles and yummy treats blast out of her shiny, yellow wand, filling Pug Man’s world with rhymes and cotton-candy pink skies. Pug Man’s grumpy day just got worse. Or did it?

Pug Man’s 3 Wishes is a fairy tale of sorts that will entertain readers of all ages. Kids will giggle at seeing Pug Man go through his morning routine, using the bathroom and staring blankly into the fridge. Little readers will have fun spotting the antics of two little mice who share Pug Man’s doghouse. Adults will be amused, and maybe a little self-conscious, to recognize themselves in his bleary morning mirror reflection. 

With minimal text, Sebastian Meschenmoser (Mr. Squirrel and the Moon) lets Pug Man’s expressions and actions carry the story. Several spreads have no text, nor do they need it. Meschenmoser’s detailed pencil drawings perfectly capture Pug Man’s mood, while simple backgrounds fill in the story.

In a world of fairy tales and dreams-come-true, Pug Man’s 3 Wishes is an entertaining, if slightly tongue-in-cheek, antidote. The book ends with a contented and simple message: The fluffy clouds and castles are nice, but sometimes all you need is a friend. And a cup of coffee. 

 

This article was originally published in the November 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Outside his doghouse, it’s raining. Inside, things aren’t much cheerier, as Pug Man—who seriously overslept—faces a solitary day without breakfast, without coffee. The story begins exactly like a caffeine-deprived morning: few, tense words and muted colors. Then, like a toddler jumping on your bed at 4 a.m. on a Saturday, the story erupts with the arrival of a very colorful, over-enthusiastic and cheerful fairy.

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A delightful book that feels like playing paper dolls with extremely artistic friends, Monday Is Wash Day gives us a snapshot of daily life for Annie and her family. In a time before front-loaders and delicate cycles, before dry-cleaners and steamers, Annie and her sister pitch in—helping their mother fetch the water and turn the wringer, pour the bluing and hang the clothes out to dry. Proud of their hard work, the sisters look forward to playtime.

First-time author MaryAnn Sundby shares her knowledge and enthusiasm for these simpler times. With a calm, descriptive and assured voice, Sundby’s storytelling underpins the “everything in its place” sentiment of the book. The sisters’ gentle teasing brings a comfortable depth to an uncluttered story, while their baby brother’s games add a playful tone.

While Monday Is Wash Day tells a straightforward story, Tessa Blackham’s illustrations are far from simplistic. Beautifully drawn, Blackham’s cut-paper characters gracefully inhabit her paint-and-paper collage world, where no detail is forgotten. With a grandfather clock and hanging wall-portrait silhouettes, the rotary phone and kitchen curtains, soft colors bring us into a house that immediately feels like a home. Most astonishing is the tactile depth and movement on each page. With skillful manipulation, Blackham turns stiff paper into well-worn rugs and floaty dresses, wrinkly jeans and draped tablecloths. Clothes drying on the line nearly flutter in the breeze.

This gentle read-aloud is perfect for multigenerational sharing, and is sure to elicit a few “when I was little” tales of your own. Monday Is Wash Day charmingly captures a memory that, while not necessarily our own, is familiar and cherished—a sentiment that transcends the machinery and trappings of our days.

A delightful book that feels like playing paper dolls with extremely artistic friends, Monday Is Wash Day gives us a snapshot of daily life for Annie and her family. In a time before front-loaders and delicate cycles, before dry-cleaners and steamers, Annie and her sister pitch in—helping their mother fetch the water and turn the wringer, pour the bluing and hang the clothes out to dry. Proud of their hard work, the sisters look forward to playtime

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Water Princess Gie Gie lives and plays in the vast beauty of Africa, a world where water is immeasurably precious and limited. Gie Gie and her mother must fetch water daily—a trip of many miles under the hot sun. They make the most of the strenuous journey, singing and dancing and reuniting with friends at the well. However, even after returning home, Gie Gie’s chore is not complete; the water must be boiled before drinking, clothes must be washed, a meal must be cooked for her family. With determined and vivid creativity, Gie Gie envisions making the water come to her. But this isn’t just the imaginings of a storybook character; The Water Princess is inspired by fashion model Georgie Badiel’s childhood in the arid climate of Burkina Faso. Today Badiel helps raise funds to build wells and plant trees in her former home.

Well-loved author and illustrator Peter H. Reynolds (The Dot) welcomes us to Africa with his recognizable, soft and energetic illustrations. Browns, oranges and yellows are warm and inviting, while simultaneously evoking the intense dusty, hot, water-scarce environment. Author Susan Verde (The Museum, You and Me) deftly narrates with a young girl’s honesty and imagination. Readers will find her voice poetic and precise. Alternatively weary and wise, Gie Gie will draw in young readers with her determination and liveliness.

A profoundly beautiful story in its own right, the real-world truth behind The Water Princess adds compelling depth and vitalness to Gie Gie’s story. Destined to make an impact, The Water Princess will entertain, educate and even inspire readers of all ages to join in Badiel’s mission. 

Water Princess Gie Gie lives and plays in the vast beauty of Africa, a world where water is immeasurably precious and limited. Gie Gie and her mother must fetch water daily—a trip of many miles under the hot sun. They make the most of the strenuous journey, singing and dancing and reuniting with friends at the well. However, even after returning home, Gie Gie’s chore is not complete; the water must be boiled before drinking, clothes must be washed, a meal must be cooked for her family.

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The child of books sits on a raft, legs dangling in the water—an ocean composed of lines from classical literature and lullabies. Buoyed on this torrent of tales, the dauntless child leads a boy, her traveling companion, around the globe, through forests and mountains. A metaphor for reading, an entertaining adventure, an intriguing work of art—whatever your interpretation, A Child of Books was written for the child of books in all of us.

Boldly drawn, cleverly detailed and colorful, this is an engaging collaboration between two talented artists. Bestselling author-illustrator Oliver Jeffers is well known for his quirky and delightful picture books, and museum-featured artist Sam Winston makes a memorable literary debut with his typographical landscapes. 

A Child of Books is an “I spy” journey for book lovers, and readers could get lost in the captivating interchange of carefully chosen literary excerpts and original art. Winston and Jeffers insert humor in the details, choosing passages to echo each illustration. Forest-themed tales shape tree branches. Overlapping lines of adventures create a dark, forbidding cave. Lines about legendary monsters come to life as a threatening beast.

This delightful treasure hunt through children’s literature will have you digging through your bookshelves, hunting for forgotten phrases and making room among the tomes for this book.

 

This article was originally published in the September 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

The child of books sits on a raft, legs dangling in the water—an ocean composed of lines from classical literature and lullabies. Buoyed on this torrent of tales, the dauntless child leads a boy, her traveling companion, around the globe, through forests and mountains. A metaphor for reading, an entertaining adventure, an intriguing work of art—whatever your interpretation, A Child of Books was written for the child of books in all of us.
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Her intense, yellow eyes scanning the night, Mother Coyote is watching and following and digging and leaping. With pups waiting in her den, the success of her nightly hunt is vital. A window into a rarely seen world, Coyote Moon is a unique find.

Gifted storyteller Maria Gianferrari narrates Coyote’s story with a directness that echoes Coyote’s serious mission, and her descriptive language and subtle use of alliteration make for a captivating read-aloud. Renowned illustrator Bagram Ibatoulline skillfully brings us along for the hunt with art as lifelike as a photograph, but with an ethereal edge. Ibatoulline leads us through the richly detailed night, peering through brush and hiding from Coyote’s prey. He opens up a moonlit world that is far from monotone, with texture and layers that give us a unique and intimate look at our world when it belongs to those who depend on the night. Gianferrari’s narrative is vivid enough to stand without any images, and Ibatoulline’s art would make a lovely wordless picture book—but woven together, they tell a story that is striking and transfixing. 

A truthful but non-gory look at the circle of life, Coyote Moon concludes with two pages of facts, making it a fascinating and useful book for libraries and classrooms. From cover to cover, from sunset to moonrise, Coyote Moon will mesmerize and intrigue—and have you peering into the nighttime for your own coyote glimpse.

 

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Her intense, yellow eyes scanning the night, Mother Coyote is watching and following and digging and leaping. With pups waiting in her den, the success of her nightly hunt is vital. A window into a rarely seen world, Coyote Moon is a unique find.

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