Julie Danielson

In her new book dedicated to “weather watchers” everywhere, author and paper artist Elly MacKay illustrates some folksy phrases related to climate, opening the book with a note about how people once looked to nature for clues about the weather. A family acts as the narrative thread that pulls all these sayings together, as they head out in their boat to fish, camp and enjoy their time outdoors, as depicted by MacKay’s appealing 3-D paper vignettes.

Some of the sayings are more well-known (“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight”), while others are obscure (“Cats leap about and chase their tails, to warn of thunderstorms and gales”). But Red Sky at Night closes with a spread explaining each saying. MacKay’s carefully constructed dioramas steal the show: These are illustrations rendered via paper and ink, which are then staged, like a series of small theaters, and then lit and photographed. The lines of her cut-paper illustrations are delicate, and the colors are warm and inviting. She captures the natural world with eloquence, even when the threatening clouds cause the family to sail home.

Though slight in story, this transfixing picture book will teach something new to cloud-watchers everywhere.

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

In this warm story about a cold place (a “sleepy coastal town far in the north”), a boy named Seb misses the sun, which is altogether absent during the winter. Seb loves to find treasures on the shore, like washed-up bottles, and he wants to bring the sun to his town, if only briefly.

Seb formulates a plan and gathers supplies from his neighbors, and he and his pet walrus row out to sea. After attaching some rope, yarn and fishing line to a bucket, Seb hurls it across the water, well past the edges of the page and into the next spread. Not seeing any immediate results, Seb falls asleep in the boat and wakes to his bucket filled with sunlight. He carefully pours it into the empty bottles he’s collected at the beach and returns home to distribute his little vessels of sunshine to all of his neighbors.

It would be hard to keep such a dark, shadowy palette interesting, but author-illustrator Jami Gigot uses a light touch (so to speak)—Northern lights, white snows and the lights of the town illuminate the pages. Gigot’s detailed drawings of Seb’s neighbors at work are the heart of the tale. Readers grow to care for them as Seb does. His impressive bucket toss on the water provides a funny, hyperbolic moment of charm in an otherwise dark story. How this considerate boy catches the sunlight is a mystery to readers, Gigot leaves to our imagination the moment in which the bucket lands. But what matters is that Seb cared enough about his community to do so.

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

The publisher describes Philip Stead’s newest picture book, All the Animals Where I Live, as “unusually structured.” Indeed, it’s a meditation during which the author-illustrator takes note of the animals in and around his home in the country, and reflects upon how they inform his life. These spacious, easy-going 48 pages kick off with a walk down the dirt road from Stead’s house; the story is luxuriously paced, as if you’re experiencing the seasons outdoors right there with Stead.

Readers in a rush may see a rambling narrative, but look closely to see that Stead keeps the thread—a celebration of nature and family—throughout this book. Starting at his own home, his 90-year-old neighbor prompts thoughts of his childhood toy bear and his Grandma Jane; he’s then back at his home with his dog, Wednesday; and he closes, bringing things full-circle, with another remembrance of his grandmother. Along the way, we see various animals, some not mentioned explicitly in the text—cats, hummingbirds, a bear, dragonflies, crickets, an owl and more. The animals where he lives may not be living (like his plush teddy bear or the chickens on his Grandma’s blanket), but his observations of them reveal what he seems to value in this life—nature, its care and upkeep, kinship, reflection and contemplation.

The sunny, earth-toned illustrations, often rendered in sketchy, loose lines, are detailed and evocative. Stead’s close-up depiction of a lone coyote is especially haunting. One compelling spread features multiple sketches of his childhood teddy bear with one stark, powerful line: “I loved my Grandma Jane.” Elsewhere, he writes, “At night it is quiet. But only until you listen.” Readers who linger over and listen to this tale will be richly rewarded.

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

In Candace Fleming’s new picture book, readers see events from Joey Cornell’s life before he grew up to become a famous artist known for his boxed assemblages of found objects. He was enamored with small curios and stowed collections in his bedroom, his rule of thumb being: “If I like it, I keep it.” Fleming stays in Cornell’s early years, making this less of a biography and more of a boyhood snapshot.

When Cornell was 13, his father died; Cornell watched the traumatic scene from his bedroom window as the ambulance took his father away. In this harrowing spread, illustrator DuBois puts a vivid, blood red to striking use in the blanket on Cornell’s bed. In an effort to cheer his mourning family, Cornell invited them to the barn where he had assembled his first art show. In highlighting these key events,  Fleming makes this a story about an act of kindness to comfort a grieving family, and more about an artist’s motivation than about the artwork itself.

Fleming’s tone is reverent and her pacing is impeccable. The first part of the text moves in two-year jumps as she shows readers what objects Cornell had collected by the ages of 8, 9, 11 and 13. What DuBois can do with light and shadow is mesmerizing, and in many spreads, Joey looks doll-like (whether purposeful or not), as if he’s an object in his own collection. Unfortunately, an author’s note that closes the book has images of Cornell’s later assemblages that are so small that they are difficult to see. But pair The Amazing Collection of Joey Cornell with Allen Say’s Silent Days, Silent Dreams for the remarkable stories of two similarly untrained artists with singular visions.

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

Baby Bear makes a handful of discoveries in this volume of four short stories. He finds a boot, returning it to its rightful owner; he finds a rare flower, making his mother’s day; he helps a baby bird, handing him safely back to his mother; and he makes a new friend. All of this is told in simple sentences and easy-to-follow dialogue.

With an endearing protagonist—Baby Bear is curious, caring and determined to be helpful—and a sunny, earth-tone palette, young readers will be drawn easily into Baby Bear’s world. Most of the artwork features circular or oval spot illustrations with generous white space surrounding them, while one illustration in each story covers both sides of a spread. These compositions, as well as the book’s bucolic setting, give the book a cozy, intimate feel. The tone is sweet and gentle, and Baby Bear’s abundant naïveté (he must ask a friend what “rare” even means) will be relatable to the preschool audience at which the book is aimed.

The strikingly childlike bear, not to mention the anthropomorphized forest creatures and the old-fashioned vibe of the stories, all bring to mind Else Holmelund Minarik’s Little Bear books, illustrated by Maurice Sendak, even if no bear stories can ever hold a candle to those eloquent classics. But this Baby Bear’s stories, in their warmly lit outdoor world, will make a cozy send-off at bedtime for the youngest of listeners—and may be just the book they pick up again when they’re ready to start reading.

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

In this sneak peek inside the lively world of the dictionary, we meet words that are exceedingly bored and long for liberation. They break free from Noah Webster’s dictionary and march throughout the land of Hollyword.

With bustling energy, this orthographic adventure celebrates the basic components of any elementary school language arts curriculum—verbs, conjunctions, interjections, contractions, homophones, antonyms and more—making it a great choice for classrooms. The anthropomorphized letters, composed with energetic lines, relish their freedom as they march, happy to be free from the book’s spine. Author Judy Sierra amps up the madcap fun with a palindrome family reunion and an onomatopoeia marching band. With a palette of teals, greens and oranges, illustrator Eric Comstock keeps the spreads balanced and never too cluttered, an impressive feat in a book with so much going on. A glossary closes out the book for those left wondering at the meaning of “lexicon” and “synonym,” as well as “garboil” and “sackbut,” which make their own delightful appearances in the parade.

In the end, Noah orders all the letters back into their tome, but when he runs into Roget and his thesaurus, we are left wondering if a sequel is in the works. Logophiles will be thrilled.

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

This article was originally published in the February 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

This vertically oriented picture book, first published in Italy in 2015, features a tall tree with a much-coveted nut amid its leafy branches. A small purple mouse stares up at it, declaring that she plans to gobble it up. After she shakes the tree—first to the right and then to the left (expect young readers to excitedly shake the book in solidarity)—a fox, not a nut, falls to the ground. He announces he’ll eat the mouse, who then scurries up the tree.

When the fox shakes the tree in an attempt to oust the mouse, a warthog drops to the ground. The warthog thinks the fox would make a great meal and declares she’ll eat him. Up the tree flees the fox. And so it goes, with a large bear falling from the tree when the warthog shakes it. When all the animals fall to the bear’s feet, the nut falls, too. The animals fear their demise when the bear announces, “I’m going to gobble you up!” Instead, bringing the story full circle, the bear goes straight for the nut.

All the action in Shake the Tree! takes place around the tree, with simple shapes on uncluttered spreads and much top-to-bottom (and vice versa) movement. When each animal faces off with the hungry creature at the bottom of tree, illustrator Silvia Borando opts for horizontal, bright red spreads, the color signifying the danger and alarm at hand. This makes the book’s twist ending all the more surprising for the young readers at whom the book is aimed.

An entertaining and lively read, this one is just right for story-time settings.

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