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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An ibex stands on a mountain, peacefully grazing, until they are challenged for “the top spot.” In response, the ibex asks, “But what are we even fighting for?” When the ibex receives an attack instead of an answer, they flee from the challenge. Fleeing does not solve problems, however—and it certainly doesn’t get them the top spot. 

A scraggly goat might hold the answers as to how to claim the strange prize. Can the ibex take the goat’s advice, return to the ibex herd and outwit the others? And even if they do, what does winning the top spot really mean?

Frank Weber’s new picture book The Top Spot offers wry commentary on exceptionalism: Why claim the top spot at all? 

Perfect for fans of We Are Definitely Human, The Top Spot explores the strength to be found in cunning over size, as well as how the things we fight over may, ultimately, be pointless. Sparse text lets the artwork shine, leading its unconventional jokes to hit all the harder, with unexpected payoffs as the book progresses. 

Existentialist humor combined with expressive illustrations and a muted, earthy palette makes this picture book one that readers of Jon Klassen will particularly enjoy. Children will be encouraged to examine why they might be competitive with their friends and what, in the end, it actually gets them. The answer might surprise.

Frank Weber’s new picture book The Top Spot offers wry commentary on exceptionalism: Why claim the top spot at all?
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Nadia Ahmed’s The Ghost Who Was Afraid of Everything is not only a charming Halloween tale, but also an excellent year-round story about facing one’s fears. Young Finn is scared of many things, including tree branches, butterflies, the color orange and flying. On Halloween, he stays home in his attic—noisy humans also make him anxious—while his older brother and sister have a grand time careening through the air. However, when they fail to bring back Finn his favorite Halloween treat (chocolate bats), he swears that he will fly to get his own next year. 

Ahmed’s prose perfectly captures Finn’s trepidation in just a handful of words that will resonate with young readers: “When Finn is afraid, his stomach swoops, his hands sweat, and he can’t move.” Happily, Finn’s gradual self-regulated program of exposure therapy works! He starts out small, simply touching a leafless branch “for one whole minute.” 

Ahmed’s whimsical illustrations are mostly in black and white at the start, except for flashes of that dreaded orange. Despite this limited palette, the pages are wonderfully appealing, never scary or dull. Finn is a simply drawn ghost, but somehow his spirit—pardon the pun—and resolution shine through on every page. As he tackles his fears one by one, color gradually enters his world. The final spread is a glorious ode to Halloween orange, as well as other small splashes of the rainbow. Ghoulishly great, The Ghost Who Was Afraid of Everything will inspire readers sidelined by their own jitters. 

 

The Ghost Who Was Afraid of Everything is a ghoulishly great Halloween story as well as an inspirational guide for readers sidelined by their own jitters.
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Seventeen-year-old Sorel’s arranged marriage is meant to unify two powerful Jewish families in her community in the Russian Empire’s Pale of Settlement. But when 17-year-old Sorel hears a voice in her head urging her to run on the eve of her wedding, she doesn’t think twice. Determined to leave her old life behind, she jumps from her bedroom window and disguises herself as a young man, taking the name Isser Jacobs. However, as she tries to flee the city, she is recognized—not as Sorel, but as an actual boy named Isser Jacobs, who apparently has many enemies. To leave for good, she must figure out how to separate herself from his identity without getting caught by the many people hunting her down.

Steeped in Jewish folklore and culture, The Forbidden Book is a fantastic tale with resonant political themes. Based on mythology concerning the dybbuk, a disembodied spirit that inhabits the body of a living person, this novel flows between the supernatural and the concrete in order to ask powerful questions about identity and beliefs. From the very beginning, The Forbidden Book blurs the line between fantasy and reality: Is the voice in Sorel’s head real? If so, whose voice is it, and why is she the only one who can hear it? From there, the story becomes more and more surreal, taking readers on a wild ride through dreams and visions that seep into reality.

Author Sacha Lamb uses the magical aspects of the story to highlight and tackle serious cultural and political issues. Sorel doesn’t know much about the voice in her head, but it drives her to question her place, power and identity as the betrothed daughter of a wealthy merchant. The disappearance of the real Isser Jacobs is shrouded in mystery, but it seems connected to his passion for printing and distributing illegal political pamphlets about Jewish Emancipation. As Sorel and the other characters work out what’s real and what’s not, they also explore themes around community, government and freedom.

At the heart of this story is Sorel, who spends the majority of the book trying to establish herself as an individual. As she uncovers the lies and truths around her, she must question every facet of her identity, including her family, community, faith and gender. Sorel’s nuanced and complex coming-of-age shows how developing an identity takes time, thought and care. Through all its twists and turns, The Forbidden Book ultimately remains centered around hope and how it can be a powerful catalyst for change—both for an individual and a whole community.

Based on Jewish mythology concerning the dybbuk, a disembodied spirit that inhabits the body of a living person, The Forbidden Book is a fantastic coming-of-age tale with resonant political themes.

Rene is a chef with a dream: to open a café that serves her carefully crafted “fine cuisine.” And after hard work saving up “every bean” and constructing “a building beam by beam,” she’s thrilled to be opening The Café at the Edge of the Woods.

In his picture book debut, London-based Mikey Please—a BAFTA award winner and Oscar nominee for animated short films—fills every page with expertly and engagingly rendered cartoon art. His color palette glows with browns, greens and oranges, perfect for a woodsy café overflowing with funky flower arrangements. 

To Rene’s chagrin, this charming eatery doesn’t make a splash right away. Her “Waiter Wanted” sign resulted in just one applicant, a little green fellow named Glumfoot. And although it’s been days since the grand opening, no customers have arrived. 

Fortunately, Glumfoot’s a go-getter. He heads into the woods and returns with a gigantic ogre, who listens politely as Rene reads him her hand-chalked blackboard menu. When she suggests truffle stew with peas and long grain rice, the ogre requests “bats! And slugs and buttered mice!” Would he prefer a cheddar tart? No, he wants “a bag of bats! That smells like fart!”

Rene is frustrated, but Glumfoot urges his boss to hang in there: The ogre will try the tart after all. Little does Rene know that, after some artful rearranging by Glumfoot (a master of marketing and diplomacy if ever there was one), the tart gets “flipped onto its back, so it looked like a pickled bat” and “The rice became . . . maggot fondue! The whole lot looked disgusting.” 

Of course, to the ogre, disgusting is delightful! And to Rene, serving the food she adores (even if it looks ickier than she planned) is a dream come true. The Café at the Edge of the Woods is a wacky and wonderful ode to ingenuity and flexibility, topped with a hearty serving of teamwork and a dash of panache. Fans of Please’s funny, expressive illustrations and clever storytelling will be happy to know a second book in this new series will be served up soon. Chef’s kiss!

The Café at the Edge of the Woods is a wacky and wonderful ode to ingenuity and flexibility, topped with a hearty serving of teamwork and a dash of panache.
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Be careful what you wish for. That’s definitely true for Hannah, the seventh grader whose journal constitutes Remy Lai’s Read at Your Own Risk. Hannah and her friends search for a diversion while “some boring author” comes to their school assembly to “talk about his spooky books, which I bet aren’t even spooky.” Instead of attending, they decide to venture into the school attic and play a Ouija board-style game they call “Spirit of the Coin.” After their session, however, Hannah quickly discovers that she is haunted by an evil spirit, who continues to terrify her, and even writes in her journal in red ink. 

The journal format will definitely appeal to middle grade readers, making the story all the more intimate and seemingly real. Nonetheless, be forewarned: As the cover filled with skulls and dripping with blood would suggest, this book is not for the squeamish. While many readers will revel in its thrills and chills, others may be completely terrified, especially by the frequent blood splatters, horrific dental details and the hospitalization of the narrator’s young brother. 

Those whom those details don’t scare off may easily find themselves reading it more than once, looking for clues about the evil spirit. Read at Your Own Risk is a dynamic display of scary storytelling and compelling, haunting graphics that challenges readers to create their own journals. Lai leans into the mysterious as she wields her craft, noting, “Telling a story is like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. Only the storyteller has the box and knows what the whole picture looks like.”

Read at Your Own Risk is a dynamic display of scary storytelling and compelling, haunting graphics that challenges readers to create their own journals.

School’s out and Jesus is itching to run outside and play, but wait—Mama has to watch her telenovela first. “When you’re an only child, with no brothers or sisters to play with,” he remarks, “you have to make your own fun.” To pass the time, he sweeps, dusts and eats “all the cereal we’re running low on. That way, we can start on the new box!”

When a stunned Mama encounters the chaos wrought by Jesus’ helpfulness, she conjures up an idea to keep him entertained so she can enjoy her afternoon TV: “What I really need is someone to look after my dear plantitas. . . . Someone who will be a big brother to these magnificent plants.” 

In 2023’s Papa’s Magical Water-Jug Clock, which received a Pura Belpré Honor for both writing and illustration, readers learned that Jesus is a sweet, spirited little boy who takes pride in helping his family. First, he assisted Papa with outdoor landscaping; now, in Mama’s Magnificent Dancing Plantitas, he’s excitedly dubbed himself indoor “Chief Plant Officer!”

Jesus takes his job seriously, and as he waters and chats with the greenery in his charge, he also shares his takes on them, including a “grumpy” sunglasses-wearing cactus and a Swiss cheese plant with holey leaves: “By the way, don’t eat them,” he warns. “They definitely don’t taste like cheese!”

When his attempt to cheer up a droopy golden pothos via impromptu dance party goes terribly awry, Jesus’ anxiety is hilariously illustrated by Eliza Kinkz in double-page spreads of soaring despair. He ponders his fate as a “murderer” and envisions a somber yet delightfully punny plant funeral. What will his parents think? Does Mama’s favorite plant have a chance at survival? 

Stand-up comedian and TV writer Jesus Trejo has created another warmly funny story that highlights the value of improvisational thinking, the beauty of a loving family and the joys of houseplants. Kinkz’s kinetic, colorful illustrations serve as a wonderful counterpoint to this winning treasure of a tale that reminds us that “breaking things is part of life. Sometimes, it’s even what helps us grow.”

 

With Mama's Magnificent Dancing Plantitas, Jesus Trejo and Eliza Kinkz have created another warmly funny story that highlights the value of improvisational thinking, the beauty of a loving family and the joys of houseplants.
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John the Skeleton is a wonderfully quirky story about a life-size model skeleton who “retires” from his schoolroom job as an anatomy model to live with an elderly couple on their farm in Estonia. He quickly becomes a part of the family, which includes two young grandchildren who frequently visit. There’s nothing scary or ghoulish here; instead, John’s presence allows Gramps and Grams to begin coming to terms with their eventual deaths. With 64 pages, plenty of illustrations and very short chapters, the book works equally well as a read-aloud for sophisticated younger readers or as a chapter book for solo readers.

The understated humor in Estonian writer Triinu Laan’s prose—as well as Adam Cullen’s translation—is ever present. Gramps makes wooden phalanges for John’s missing finger bones, and gives John his old musty coat “with two medals still pinned to it: one for donating blood and the other for being a good tractor driver.” The family includes John in all of their adventures. They help John make snow angels, and John even takes a bath with the grandkids.

Marja-Liisa Plats’ black-and-white illustrations, often accentuated by well-placed shades of fuchsia (a blushing face, a sled amid the snow), are full of whimsy. Her linework is perfect for this scruffy, lovable couple and their farmhouse world, including their outdoor summer kitchen. One of the book’s many delights is that John never reacts in any way; his entire “personality” is simply what this family imagines it to be. Nonetheless, he comforts them greatly, especially when Gramps and Grams begin to show signs of confusion. 

There are particularly touching scenes at the end, when the book confronts death. John the Skeleton is an endearing story that helps normalize death while highlighting the enduring power of love. 

John the Skeleton is an endearing book that helps normalize death while highlighting the enduring power of love.
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With Vikki VanSickle’s compelling rhyming couplets and Jensine Eckwall’s lush, moody illustrations, Into the Goblin Market has all the makings of a modern classic, while giving a delightful nod to European fairy tales. The book is a tribute to Christina Rosetti’s 1859 poem, “Goblin Market,” about sisters Laura and Lizzie. VanSickle has used the original to create a similar tale about two young sisters who seem to live alone in a fairy tale-like world “on a farm, not far from here.” Millie is quiet and bookish, while Mina, with a head full of wild, curly hair, is daring and always ready for adventure. One night, Mina sneaks away to the Goblin Market, even though Millie has warned her, “The Goblin Market isn’t safe. / It’s a tricky, wicked place.”

When Millie awakes and sees that Mina has disappeared, she consults her library and takes several items that end up providing invaluable protection. Eckwall’s intricate, woodcut-inspired art vividly conveys the magic and danger that awaits. Occasional red accents in these black-and-white ink drawings highlight objects such as the hooded cape Millie wears as she sets off, looking just like Red Riding Hood—and, indeed, a shaggy black wolf is the first thing she encounters. 

Once she enters the market, “Everywhere that Millie looked / was like a nightmare from her books.” There are strange sights galore, including a multitude of goblins and an evil-looking witch, but there’s no sign of Mina, whom Millie knows is in trouble. The pages are definitely a feast for the imagination (although the very young may find them frightening). 

Both sisters use their wits admirably to escape the many dangers, and there’s a wonderful surprise at the end, just when all seems to be lost. Into the Goblin Market is a delicious treat for those yearning for a bit of frightful adventure. 

 

A tribute to the work of Victorian poet Christina Rosetti, Into the Goblin Market is a delicious treat for those yearning for a bit of frightful adventure.
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When circumstances force Christopher to spend time at his grandfather’s house in the middle-of-nowhere in Scotland, he expects it to be a bore—until he discovers the Archipelago. Home to creatures of myth and items of magic, Christopher’s family has protected the door to the Archipelago for generations. When a young girl named Mal breaks through the entrance and begs Christopher to help save her life and the lives of all magical creatures, his “allegiance” to “wild and living things”—and his own curiosity—leads him to follow her back into the Archipelago.

With its immortal protector missing, dangerous creatures swarming and a strange force trying to take the world’s magic for its own, the Archipelago is no place for children. But Christopher and Mal are the only people who can save it, even if that means working with pirates, peculiar scientists, odd dragons and sphinxes that could easily kill them. If they survive, it will be quite the story to tell. If they fail, everything will fall to ruin.

Bestselling author Katherine Rundell returns to middle grade with the powerful and charming Impossible Creatures, a modern fantasy with a classic feel. It’s hard not to fall in love with the Archipelago: From Mal’s unique flying coat to the myriad of magical creatures, there is much in the world-building to enjoy. Artwork from Ashley Mackenzie highlights the story’s most fantastical moments, adding to the book’s classic adventure feel and immersing readers in its magic. A fully illustrated guide to the mythological creatures in the back matter fleshes out the fictional world, expanding upon little details only hinted at in the text.

Mal and Christopher serve as alternating narrators before the book settles into Christopher’s point of view, which may leave Mal’s early fans a little in the lurch as they hope for more of her perspective. Her role in the story, however, becomes one of utmost importance, and though the book comes to a satisfying conclusion, readers will be itching to see if and how her arc continues in the rest of the series.

Impossible Creatures is an ode to children’s ability to hope and to make hard decisions. As one character puts it, “Children have been underestimated for hundreds of years.” Younger readers who don’t handle dark moments well should wait until they are older to pick this up: The battle of goodness against despair involves death and does not stray away from a harsher narrative. 

But for readers who devour adventure fantasy stories like The Ogress and the Orphans by Kelly Barnhill as well as classics like Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass, Impossible Creatures is a must-read.

Bestselling author Katherine Rundell returns to middle grade with the powerful and charming Impossible Creatures, a modern fantasy with a classic feel.
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This book about space, featuring words that will literally travel through space, is existentially brilliant. In Praise of Mystery is based on the eponymous poem by U.S. Poet Laureate Ada Limon that is inscribed on the Europa Clipper, a space probe bound for Jupiter’s moon, Europa. It’s an evocative and powerful tribute not only to Earth and space, but also to what brings us together and makes us dream.

There is no mistaking the artwork of Peter Sis, who has been a staple in the children’s book world since the 1980s. Sis often uses unique perspectives and a hint of the fantastical to tackle complex, profound topics, making him the perfect choice to illustrate a book like this one. In Praise of Mystery is like falling into a dream—vibrant and vast, joyful and curious. It is a blur of fantasy and reality: A single drop of rain carries a tree blossoming with life; the moon finds itself within the abstract shape of a whale. There are myriad references and tiny details that would take ages to fully explore and deconstruct. There’s even a nod to Van Gogh, in a subtle homage to our human need to capture the marvels we see. 

Readers can jump to the back of the book to find the full text of “In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa.” Limon’s alliteration, descriptions and precise language are flawless, and you’ll want to read the poem out loud multiple times to let the stunning words sink in. Limon writes of wondrous things above, below and within all of us; the poem is both immense and intimate and will leave you in awe. A brief author’s afterword also gives just enough tantalizing information to send you on a hunt to learn more about Jupiter and the Europa Clipper.

The Clipper will take approximately six years to reach Jupiter and its moons. Countless historical events will happen and countless new lives will be born while the poem travels to a place no human has ever been. For readers of all ages and from all walks of life, In Praise of Mystery is a chance to partake in a small piece of this wonder.

 

Based on the eponymous poem by Ada Limon that will be carried into space by the Europa Clipper, In Praise of Mystery is like falling into a dream—vibrant and vast, joyful and curious.
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Set two decades after the events of Sabaa Tahir’s blockbuster An Ember in the Ashes quartet, Heir entices readers back to a familiar landscape of the Martial Empire, just as Empress Helene plans to end her reign. Her nephew and successor, Quil, dreads his impending coronation, but a dire threat posed by the embittered nation of Kegar forces him to confront his duty to his people. Thrown into a perilous journey, he crosses paths with the exile Sirsha, who has sworn a magic oath to track down a mysterious child killer. In a riveting, large-scale narrative, Tahir weaves their storylines together with that of Aiz, an orphan from the Kegari slums, as she struggles against a cruel air squadron commander trying to assert control of her country. 

Writing a spinoff to any beloved series is risky, but National Book Award-winner Tahir (All My Rage) avoids getting lost in the mire of her past success by continuously offering readers something thrilling and new, while not losing sight of the original. As a result, Heir feels wholly generative. Each possessing distinct motivations, Aiz, Quil and Sirsha hold their own alongside previous fan favorites, who themselves have grown in organic yet revelatory ways.

Tahir’s characters grapple with the scars of past tragedies and rail against suffocating circumstances with nuance that will engage readers both new and returning to the series. Furthermore, evocative—but not overly intrusive—world-building allows Heir to be easily understood as a standalone novel. Kegar’s situation, as a country that is food-scarce and depends on raiding for resources, contributes depth to the novel’s core conflict, which goes beyond simplistic good and evil. How far can one go to save one’s people?  

“Ultimately, at the heart of everything I write is the question: Why do we treat each other this way?” Read our Q&A with Sabaa Tahir. 

Without losing momentum, Tahir brings this energetic book to a satisfying conclusion, while dropping enough cliffhangers to leave readers hungry for the sequel. Heir offers a welcome blend of mystique and weightiness—plus a dollop of romance—that will delight anyone seeking more complexity in young adult fantasy.  

 

Heir offers a welcome blend of mystique and weightiness—plus a dollop of romance—that will delight anyone seeking more complexity in young adult fantasy.
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Godfather Death is a lively retelling of a Grimm fairy tale about a poor fisherman looking for a godfather for his newborn son. The fisherman rejects God’s offer because he doesn’t feel God treats people fairly, especially since the fisherman and his family live in such poverty. He is smart enough to also reject the devil’s offer—but when Death comes along, he believes he has finally found an honest man. After the christening, Death lets the fisherman in on a scheme that makes him a rich man, but ultimately backfires in a tragic way.

As the fisherman’s captivating quest unfolds, Sally Nicholls weaves in plenty of humor: Christening guests stare at Death—a skeleton with his silver scythe and long black cloak—as “everyone tried very hard to be polite to the baby’s godfather.” When this skeleton figure eats food, “everyone wondered where it went.” 

Julia Sarda illustrates the tale in a limited palette of orange, mustard yellow, dark green and black, imbuing the book with an intriguing, stylized vibe reminiscent of old fairy tales. Her eye-catching illustrations will help readers understand that this is a tale meant to impart wisdom. Note that, like the original, the ending is abrupt and not at all happy. Nonetheless, Godfather Death is a memorable story that’s bound to encourage interesting discussions about life, death and honesty. 

 

Based on a Grimm fairy tale, Godfather Death is a memorable story that’s bound to encourage interesting discussions about life, death and honesty.
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Sid Sharp’s picture book Bog Myrtle starts as an intriguing fairy tale about two very different sisters: eternally optimistic Beatrice and forever grumpy Magnolia, who live “alone in a hideous, drafty old house” and “are so poor that they ate rats for breakfast and cockroaches for lunch.”

The action starts when Beatrice decides to make a sweater for Magnolia, who gripes about being cold. Since they have no money, Beatrice, who loves nature and crafts, heads to the forest to look for helpful treasures, and eventually encounters a monster named Bog Myrtle. Surprising things happen every step of the way, and Sharp’s sense of humor shines through—for instance, with a knitting store called “Knot in My Back Yarn.” 

Bog Myrtle offers Beatrice magic silk, which allows her to knit a truly splendid gift for Magnolia—who immediately sees potential for profit. As Magnolia launches a magic sweater business that becomes increasingly exploitative, Sharp transforms the tale into a sophisticated, humorous fable about sustainability, corporate greed and workers’ rights. Sharp manages to integrate these themes so seamlessly that they never feel strident; readers will simply find themselves cheering when the good guys beat the villain. 

Bold, contrasting colors imbue Sharp’s eye-catching illustrations with a modern, energetic vibe. Bog Myrtle offers a fun-filled yet serious look at sustainability and corporate accountability. Who would have even thought that possible? Sharp’s wizardry makes it happen. 

 

Who would have thought it possible to create an entertaining children's story about sustainability and corporate accountability? Sid Sharp's fun-filled fable, Bog Myrtle, is just that.

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