Visitations is a haunting, complex memoir about religion, mental illness and broken families, told through the eyes of a young boy.
Visitations is a haunting, complex memoir about religion, mental illness and broken families, told through the eyes of a young boy.
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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.

Theater kids of all ages will adore Take It From the Top, Claire Swinarski’s effervescently heartfelt and cathartic tribute to the joys and dramas that come with life in the limelight. 

Each year, Eowyn and best friend Jules tread the boards at Lamplighter Lake Summer Camp for the Arts in the Wisconsin Northwoods. They instantly bonded in their first year, but now as they enter their sixth—at 13 years old—a once rock-solid friendship bolstered by elaborate plans for a shared future (they’ll be famous together!) has become a tenuous truce at best.

Eowyn’s not sure why Jules is icing her out, so she buries her feelings in intense audition prep for the big end-of-summer production, in which she’s determined to get a lead role. Jules is prepping too . . . but what if they both score big parts? Can a friendship that’s painfully broken be healed in time for a harmonious opening night?

As in her middle grade debut, epistolary mystery What Happened to Rachel Riley?—a BookPage Best Middle Grade Book of 2023 and 2024 Edgar Award nominee—Swinarski has created a story rife with realism, empathy and well-drawn characters navigating their figuring-themselves-out years. She also plays with structure to excellent effect, alternating Eowyn’s perspective in the present with Jules’ in the years leading up to this pivotal sixth summer. 

It’s a genuine treat to follow along as the talented, hardworking tweens in Take It From the Top strive to understand others’ perspectives and translate their onstage performances into how they address real life. As Eowyn muses, “Up there on the stage . . . You could be someone you weren’t. Or maybe you could be someone you really were.” Bravo!

It’s a genuine treat to follow along as the talented, hardworking tweens in Take It From the Top strive to understand others’ perspectives and translate their onstage performances into how they address real life.
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One sunny day as she’s flying high above a patchwork of rolling farmland, a sudden blast changes Katerina the stork’s life forever. Felled by a hunter’s bullet, she lays helpless in a field, with her beloved mate Luka squawking in distress, until a farmer and his granddaughter scoop her up and carry her home.

At first, the duo tend to Katerina’s injured wing in their living room; later, they help her to a nest they’ve created inside their barn. All the while, Luka hovers outside, peeking through every window to reassure himself Katerina is safe—and ensure that Katerina knows he is, as ever, close by. But as winter looms, the storks know they soon must part. “He would not bear the coming cold,” Katerina explains. “I could not bear the flight. And so we said goodbye.”

In some romantic-yet-tragic tales, a couple’s story might end with that inevitable, wrenching separation. But in author Carol Joy Munro’s moving and hopeful debut Springtime Storks: A Migration Love Story, the storks’ separation transforms into a new beginning. Like the real-life birds that inspired Munro to write this story—a pair of Croatian storks named Malena and Klepetan, as detailed in the Author’s Note—Katerina and Luka adapt to their new reality and continue their love story in an unexpected but no less wonderful way. 

Chelsea O’Byrne’s beautiful, often fanciful, chalk pastel and colored pencil illustrations cleverly convey Katerina’s longing for Luka during their first year apart: At night, a stork-shaped silhouette swoops through the stars, and by day, as Katerina stretches her wings, Luka-shaped clouds encourage her from above. O’Byrne’s emotive art colorfully captures the storks’ joyful reunion and parental pride in their three chicks, as well as the beauty of nature present all year round. 

Budding naturalists will flock to Springtime Storks and its memorable celebration of loyalty and devotion, call to protect and conserve wildlife, and heartfelt reminder that love can prevail despite unanticipated challenges. 

Budding naturalists will flock to Springtime Storks and its memorable celebration of loyalty and devotion, call to protect and conserve wildlife, and heartfelt reminder that love can prevail despite unanticipated challenges.
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On the remote island of Merlank, shoes belonging to the recently dead are brought to the Ferryman so that he can shepherd their spirits across the sea to their final resting place. If they choose to linger instead of climbing the Broken Tower and leaving the earthly realm, they push at the edges of the veil that separates the living and the dead, causing destruction. Thirteen-year-old Milo is the Ferryman’s younger son. His older brother Leif will take up the mantle when their father passes: The Ferryman has always said that Milo is not suited to the role because he is too susceptible to emotions—his own, and the dead’s. 

But when the Lord of Merlank’s daughter suddenly dies, the Lord is unwilling to let her go, and what begins as a peaceful negotiation for his daughter’s shoes turns deadly. The Lord’s guards murder the Ferryman and capture Leif, and Milo flees with the shoes, knowing that the burden of the dead has now fallen on him. With the Lord and his terrifying magicians in close pursuit, Milo sets sail for the Broken Tower, knowing that he must follow in his father’s imposing footsteps—but that he must also become his own version of the Ferryman.

Island of Whispers, author Francis Hardinge’s middle grade novella with drawings from children’s illustrator Emily Gravett, is a subtle, dreamlike fable about grief, letting go and carving your own path along heavily trodden ground. At only 120 pages, the story itself is brief, but far from lacking in depth. Hardinge writes with the deft, light touch of classic writers of fairy tales, her prose and imagery enchanting yet spare. She balances the novella’s weighty themes of denial and grief with a linguistic accessibility that makes the book feel welcoming for younger readers, while still appealing to a wide audience.

The story is illuminated by Gravett’s gorgeous black and white illustrations, which are reminiscent of Scandinavian woodblock prints or even Wanda Gág’s lithographs. The images bolster the out-of-time feeling that the rest of the story is imbued with, and add to the subtle magic that is woven throughout. Island of Whispers is a quiet book, but it’s also a resonant one; it would be wholly unsurprising to find it, decades from now, nestled on a shelf of worn and loved classics.

Island of Whispers is a quiet book, but it’s also a resonant one. It would be wholly unsurprising to find it, decades from now, nestled on a shelf of worn and loved classics.

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.
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Literary powerhouses Renée Watson and Ekua Holmes combine forces to create Black Girl You Are Atlas, a phenomenal poetry collection celebrating sisterhood, womanhood, Black culture and the power of family and friendship. This book revels in the promise of adolescence while acknowledging its accompanying landmines of fear, self-doubt and uncertainty. 

Renowned poet, novelist and Newbery Honoree (Piecing Me Together) Watson offers high-impact, widely accessible poems that address topics like her childhood, the teenage journey from innocence to awareness, and current events (through poems for Michelle Obama and Breonna Taylor). Verses in poems such as “How to Survive Your Teen Years” and “Sixteen Reasons to Smile” are filled with comfort and joy. No matter the subject, Watson’s words resonate on a personal level, as in these lines from “Turning Seven”: “I will always remember this birthday as the one where I met / my dad and lost my uncle and learned that men are good at / disappointing and disappearing.” Black Girl You Are Atlas explores the world in depth: In contrast to “Turning Seven,” an ode to her older brother (“King”) concludes, “And when there’s all this talk about what Black men are not, / I think about all he is.”

Caldecott Honor recipient Holmes’ torn paper collage and mixed-media art is the perfect accompaniment, featuring joyous and brightly colored figures among bits of newsprint and other ephemera. Shimmering with radiance at first glance, they reveal even more layers of meaning upon closer examination.

Black Girl You Are Atlas compels young readers to honor their past while creating their own paths forward. As “Lessons on Being a Sky Walker” urges: “When they tell you / the sky is the limit, vow to go past that.”

In Black Girl You Are Atlas, renowned poet, novelist and Newbery Honoree Renee Watson offers high-impact, widely accessible poems that address universal topics, accompanied by joyous artwork from Caldecott winner Ekua Holmes

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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I first interviewed you back in 1996, with the publication of Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse. I began by saying—a statement that certainly still holds true—“Kevin Henkes’ picture books and novels are a celebration of the ordinary, written and illustrated with extraordinary aplomb.” At that time, you had a 14-month-old son. How has life changed in those decades, and how has it stayed the same, especially in terms of your writing and illustrating?
My 14-month-old son is now 29 and on his own. Life is no longer filled with all the things that go along with kids at home. I do remember periods when it seemed difficult to find long stretches of time to really concentrate on book work. But one finds a way to do it. Now, finding time is not an issue, and the actual work is very much the same. When our kids were little, I always wanted to have a book to be working on and thinking about. It was an anchor in my life. That feeling, that need to be writing, has not changed.

Still Sal’s dedication reads: “For Peg, Mel, Abby, and Margaret, with much love and thanks for answering oh-so-many questions about teachers and teaching.” Who are Peg, Mel, Abby and Margaret, and what did you ask them?
They are my sister, my sister-in-law, our kids’ former babysitter and a dear friend—all elementary school teachers. Over the years I’ve asked them so many questions about curriculum, class size and classroom layout. I’ve asked them how they might deal with certain behaviors. I’ve gotten suggestions for names from them, too. I’m reminded when I’ve talked to them how open, generous, thoughtful and patient they are—not a surprise, but traits to be admired. Over the years, I’ve read to their classes and helped decorate some of their classrooms. I’ve sketched in some of their classrooms too (after hours when no students were around). Some rug and floor patterns and wall decorations have shown up in several of my illustrations.

What has been your proudest publishing moment over the years, more than 50 books after starting your career? Has your confidence grown, and do you sometimes face struggles as you create?
I can’t say I have a proudest publishing moment, although I am amazed when I look back and think that I went alone to New York City at age 19 to look for a publisher. I don’t think I’d have the confidence to do that now at age 63. And yes, I always face struggles as I create. I constantly ask myself questions such as: Why is this so difficult? Will I ever have another idea? Why can’t I get onto the page what I so clearly hear or see in my head?

“I am amazed when I look back and think that I went alone to New York City at age 19 to look for a publisher.”

Sal’s dad is a sculptor who works from his studio in the family garage. He’s a wonderfully involved and emotionally attuned parent who loves to make fun shaped pancakes and is nostalgic as he watches his three children change and grow. Did you channel any of your own emotions or experiences into Papa?
Like Papa, I was a stay-at-home artist parent along with my wife, Laura Dronzek. Like Papa, I often made fun shaped pancakes—although it’s harder to do than you’d think, and Papa is much better at it than I was. And now, since my kids are grown and on their own, I’m terribly out of practice. All of my characters probably have a bit of me in them, but Papa more than others.

Which children’s writers and illustrators have been the most influential for you?
Among the picture book creators who have meant the most to me are Crockett Johnson, Ruth Krauss, M.B. Goffstein, Maurice Sendak, James Marshall, Jean Charlot, Garth Williams and Margaret Wise Brown. As far as novels for children are concerned, my favorite writers include Paula Fox, Beverly Cleary, Eleanor Estes and Lynne Rae Perkins.

Sal has lots of very big feelings about what adults might consider to be small, fleeting problems. And yet, as readers, we care deeply about her struggles and feel her pain, as well as her triumphs and joy. How do you make her inner life so authentic, sometimes funny, and always riveting?
I’ve always been drawn to the ordinary, to small domestic stories. And I love exploring the inner lives of my characters. I’m more interested in the ripple than the wave. “Big, bad, things” don’t tend to be my focus. But what qualifies as a “big, bad thing” is subjective. It may be as simple or complicated as worrying that you got the wrong teacher or that you have to share your room or any of the hundreds of concerns and shortcomings that children everywhere work through every day. Precision and clarity bring the characters’ feelings to life.

“I’ve always been drawn to the ordinary, to small domestic stories.”

You write so seamlessly, and yet I imagine that getting the plot and timing exactly right was an intricate process. Could you discuss your writing and editing process?
I still write my manuscripts by hand in a spiral notebook. And I write slowly—sentence by sentence, word by word—in one draft without an outline. Writing this way requires a huge leap of faith. It is an act of trust—trust that somehow I will know my characters long enough and get to know them well enough that things will come together and fall into place beautifully.

E.L. Doctorow once observed that writing was “like driving alone at night: you could only see as far as your headlights. But you could go the whole way like that.”

Eventually, I will get to the point where there really is only one way for the story to go. It is inevitable. So far, anyway, I’ve always found my way home.

Art is such a big part of Sal’s and her father’s lives, and it’s one of the things that “draws” them together. Could you talk about the role that art plays in elementary students’ lives, as well as its role in your novels?
I’ve always thought of myself as an artist so that’s always been an important part of who I am. Because of that, I love writing about characters who are artists. Several of the characters in my novels—both adults and children—are artists.

I think art is important in the life of a child. I wish that there was more support for the arts in school, and that art in general was treated with greater respect in society.

As an illustrator, do you visualize your novels as you write? Would you ever consider trying a graphic novel?
Writing a novel is very different from writing and illustrating a picture book. But because I am an illustrator, I do visualize my novels as I work. I love creating and describing the spaces in which my characters live. It’s one of my favorite things about writing. I have thought about trying a graphic novel. Who knows? I do think of my picture book Egg as a graphic novel for preschoolers.

I love Sal and her friend Griff’s mini golf course creation with spoons and marbles. Have you made your own?
I have not made my own mini golf course, although my kids built many things like that. I remember very elaborate villages constructed from twigs, leaves, stones, shells, etc.

Also, Sal’s Papa makes a memorable macaroni and cheese recipe. Are you a mac and cheese chef?
Laura is the cook in our house and makes great macaroni and cheese. I’m very good at eating it!

Your Miller Family Stories, including Still Sal, remind me of Beverly Cleary’s books. Might Poppy Miller get her own book someday?
I never intended to write a second book about Billy Miller and his family. But I couldn’t get him out of my mind, and so it felt right to reenter that world. Now, after four books about the Miller family, I would have thought I’d be finished, but I’m getting little signals that there might be another. Maybe someday Poppy will get her own book.

Read our starred review of ‘Still Sal’ by Kevin Henkes.

 

Still Sal once again brings back the memorable characters of the Miller Family Stories.
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Imagine a future in which no one ever sees the sky, and water is so toxic that even a drop can cause an infection deadly enough to require an amputation. Basam, Mustafa and Aarfah, three teenage engineers, live at the bottom of Muqadas, a city that is vertically stacked on top of itself and surrounded by water that causes an infection called Habar. Life improves the higher up one lives in Muqadas, so the trio is trying to finish their invention of an advanced prosthetic limb, which they hope will grant them opportunities to ascend to the upper tiers of the city. 

When they succeed, they are given the chance to move up a tier with their families. But not long after, they start to notice the inequities and injustices of their society, and part of the group begins to question their dreams of leaving their home. Will they hold their resolve to get to the top together, and try from there to make a difference for the lower levels?

Though Thief of the Heights is her first book geared toward young adults, Son M. is well-versed in gripping narratives, having previously written for Dark Horse and DC Comics, among others. Her storytelling is excellent,  seamlessly weaving elements of Algerian and Islamic culture into this dynamic world.

Debut illustrator Robin Yao brings M.’s worldbuilding to life through their vibrant and dynamic artwork. All the characters are compellingly and uniquely designed. Emotions are easily discerned, with intense moments illustrated in monochrome shades that match the severity of the mood. Foreshadowing is sprinkled throughout the narrative and illustrations in equal measure.

While throwing a reader into a dystopian world with little context is a compelling narrative device, it may leave the reader with a simple desire for more: More time with each trio member, more time for exploring the relationships between them, and more insight into what this world will look like past the book’s last page. The ending is abrupt, but that may be the point, suggesting that it is up to us to imagine the future beyond.

Still, Thief of the Heights is extraordinary: a suspenseful, emotional sci-fi fantasy graphic novel.

Thief of the Heights is extraordinary: a suspenseful, emotional sci-fi fantasy graphic novel.
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George M. Johnson, who has spent their career thus far writing the books they wish they’d had when they were a teen (including the frequently challenged All Boys Aren’t Blue), has reached into history for more queer Black stories to share with Flamboyants: The Queer Harlem Renaissance I Wish I’d Known. “My heroes were hidden from me,” Johnson writes in the introduction to this nonfiction title. 

Across 12 essays featuring foundational figures like Langston Hughes, Josephine Baker and Zora Neale Hurston, as well as less broadly known icons like Alain Locke, Gladys Bentley and Ethel Waters, Johnson champions the untold queer stories that were integral and influential to  the  Harlem Renaissance. Interspersed with Johnson’s own poetry and rich, vibrant paintings by artist and illustrator Charly Palmer, Flamboyants is a nuanced yet accessible primer for both teens and adults. 

But Flamboyants is not merely a much-needed history lesson, and it’s certainly not standard biographical fare. Johnson puts these figures in conversation with each other and with the present, enrichingeach essay with personal anecdotes delivered in a witty, conversational tone, and with cultural criticism that draws a direct through line from the Harlem Renaissance to Black queer culture today.

Thanks to this focus, Johnson does not tell one-dimensional stories, like the ones they heard in their own childhood. Rather, Johnson allows the subjects of Flamboyants the full spectrum of their humanity, exploring what they did, what they didn’t do, and what was done to them. “These important figures,” Johnson writes, “deserve their legacy to be told in its totality.” In this way, Flamboyants suggests that we must see those who came before us as whole people to have any hope of making sense of our present. 

 

In Flamboyants, George M. Johnson tells the story of a Harlem Renaissance in which queerness is as integral and influential to the culture as Blackness.
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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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