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In her debut middle grade novel, Nasuġraq Rainey Hopson crafts an exquisitely immersive tale describing the mythical origins of the Iñupiaq Messenger Feast and how the Iñupiaq people acquired song and dance.
A boy named Pinja is sent on a mountain journey by his family to get obsidian for their toolmaking. His mother can’t help but worry; it’s the same mountain where his two older brothers disappeared. Nonetheless, it’s a vital task, because this small family lives off the land and never takes more than what’s necessary, surviving “thanks to the animals and their kindness and generosity—and a heavy dose of luck.” They rarely see others and are extremely cautious the few times they do.
When Pinja reaches the mountain, he is immediately confronted by an immense eagle god named Savik, who snatches him and takes him far away to Savik’s eagle god family. Pinja remains prisoner for 14 moons, learning many difficult lessons from the eagle gods, including how to dance, sing, drum, build a large gathering hall and become a leader.
Pinja is thoughtful, intelligent and determined, and his intense yearning to return home drives him to study and learn from everything he encounters—even a cute lemming teaches Pinja to see the power of combining strength with others. Gradually, Pinja realizes an important new concept, one foreign to his family: “Why would you do things alone when you can accomplish so much together?”
Rainey’s writing is taut and finely chiseled, as in this description of the endless ennui of Pinja’s imprisonment: “The days cut at him like obsidian against grass with their slow emptiness.” Her fine-toned illustrations showcase the beauty of the Alaskan landscape and its people, while her knowledgeable, passionate descriptions of survival in a harsh environment integrate well into the ongoing action. Rainey herself lives with her family in a remote Alaska Native village in the Brooks Range, where they follow a predominantly subsistence life and try to preserve traditional Iñupiaq values and knowledge.
Eagle Drums marks the impressive debut of a gifted writer. Rainey gives readers an engrossing, exciting look into Iñupiaq culture while offering invaluable lessons about the power of community, kinship and celebrations.
There is no library in the small town of Martinville. Twenty years ago, it burned to the ground, and nothing was ever built in its place. But one day in the waning months of spring, a little free library appears overnight in front of the town’s History House, guarded by a large, purring, orange sentinel named Mortimer.
Fifth grader Evan is one of the first to discover the new library and take some books. He also seems to be the only one to notice that most of the books are from the old Martinville library, where they were all returned on November 5, 1999—the same day the library burned down. Not only that, but the famous mystery writer H.G. Higgins appears to have been the last person to check some of them out.
As the little free library grows, so does Evan’s list of questions. Why did the old library burn down? Why didn’t they build a new one? Did H.G. Higgins live in Martinville? Did he set the fire? With the help of his best friend, Rafe, Evan investigates the expanding number of clues. But Martinville isn’t ready to give up such big secrets so quickly.
Written by two powerhouses of children’s literature, Rebecca Stead and Wendy Mass, The Lost Library is a charming love letter to libraries, stories and life’s little mysteries, told through the alternating perspectives of Mortimer the cat, Evan and ghostly librarian Al. Stead and Mass provide all the tools required to solve the book’s multilayered mysteries—but rather than make the reveals too obvious, they create an alluring trail of breadcrumbs, inviting readers to leap to each discovery by themselves.
The story is relatively small in scope but speaks to the wider importance of connection. Throughout the novel, characters shine through their relationships with others, and the overarching lesson is clear: People need each other, and this is a good thing.
Though readers might expect something on a slightly grander scale from the combined powers of Stead and Mass, The Lost Library’s whimsical simplicity is a delight. It is subtly magical, sweetly optimistic and above all, kind. The Lost Library reminds us that each book contains an entire universe, and the next one you step inside of could be the one that changes everything. The next time one of its readers walks past a little free library, they might just stop to look inside.
Award-winning author Grace Lin leads readers on a fascinating, mouthwatering tour of American Chinese food in Chinese Menu: The History, Myths, and Legends Behind Your Favorite Foods. Her enthusiastic, attention-grabbing narration often makes readers feel as though she’s addressing them directly.
Lin describes American Chinese dishes—which have been adapted and changed from those found in China—as “the flavor of resilience, the flavor of adaptability, the flavor of persistence and triumph. Above anything, this food is the flavor of America.” Chinese Menu is jampacked with chapters that are organized according to course, including tea, appetizers, soup and chef’s specials. Foods like Bird’s Nest Soup, General Tso’s Chicken (he was a real general during the 1850 Taiping Rebellion) and Chop Suey make an appearance. There’s history, too: Lin explains that the fork may have been invented in China, but that as chopsticks evolved from long bronze cooking tools to their wooden form, Confucius advised people to use them to eat instead, believing that knives and forks resembled weapons and brought disharmony to meals. Adding to the offerings are numerous color illustrations, diagrams, a map of China, informative endnotes, an extensive bibliography and an illustrated timeline showing when various dishes emerged. There’s also a recipe for Lin’s mother’s scallion pancakes.
Though all of the above is compelling, what makes this book shine are the numerous retellings of food-related myths and folktales, many of which Lin first heard as a child at the dinner table. A story about the origin of Dragon Well Tea involves a dragon, a poor old woman and a mysterious stranger who knocks on her door. Dumplings are said to have been invented during the Eastern Han Dynasty (24–220), when a doctor named Zhang Zhongjing found an innovative way to treat villagers’ frostbitten ears during the Lunar New Year. Some tales are not for the faint of heart and involve subjects like death and poverty, but throughout, Lin’s sensitive narration remains mindful of her young audience.
Lin’s illustrations are further icing on the cake—starting with the book’s ornate cover showing a young girl holding out a steaming bowl of soup, inside of which readers see the faint suggestion of a bridge and a building, hinting at the tales waiting inside.
Chinese Menu is a treat in every way: an exceptional compilation that can be read all at once or taken out from time to time as a reference while eating certain dishes—a family ritual that all ages will enjoy. Either way, it’s scrumptious!
It’s been several years since Guinevere “Nev” Tallow’s mother disappeared, and their life has since been dominated by their father’s destructive habits—trying numerous get-rich-quick schemes and imploring Nev to pay off the loan sharks that storm into their apartment and fill the air with anger and threats.
By the start of bestselling graphic novelist Ethan M. Aldridge’s first prose novel Deephaven, Nev has decided they’ll no longer be dragged down by a selfish and uninterested parent. Instead, they’ll plunge into the unknown, thanks to a full scholarship offered by the prestigious Deephaven Academy. For Nev, their first day going to Deephaven provides a deeply meaningful opportunity to “be the person they needed to be . . . to finally feel comfortable in their own skin, a chance to start over.”
That’s no small feat: Nev tends to be shy, more an observer than a joiner (“They really, really, weren’t good at conversations”). But they’re determined to find a home in this gothic manse.
As befits an eerie dark academia tale, the academy is rife with dark hallways, rooftop gargoyles and a sense of foreboding that overlays the hustle and bustle of a new school year. The principal and prefects are polite but seem to be hiding something. For example, Nev wonders, why is the east wing closed for repairs when there’s no structural damage to be seen? And if the wing is indeed empty, why is a scratching sound coming from behind its walls?
Nev likes to wear a big green coat, its many pockets filled with components they use to make intricate mechanical toys. Solving puzzles is second nature, and they resolve to use their “mechanical mind and magpie instincts” to figure out—with the help of new friend Danny—what’s really going on at the school. It’s a scary proposition, and Aldridge’s twisty narrative and spine-chilling illustrations heighten the suspense of Nev’s daring mission in this engaging page-turner of a series kickoff. Spooky yet heartfelt, Deephaven is sure to delight fans of Netflix’s “Wednesday” and anyone who likes a cleverly conceived gothic tale featuring creepy creatures and found family.
Move over Prince Charming, for Cinderella and a Mouse Called Fred (Anne Schwartz, $18.99, 9780593480038). Deborah Hopkinson (a frequent contributor to BookPage) and Paul O. Zelinsky’s queer retelling of the age-old Cinderella tale centers on a tiny gray mouse living in a pumpkin patch. The kind Cinderella (or “Ella,” as her friends call her) gives him his name, Fred. A grumpy fairy godmother turns Fred into a horse so that Ella can go to the big ball. The prince, however, is a brat, and Ella heads home at midnight—but not until she grabs some seeds from the pumpkin that had been her carriage. Later, she watches as the prince tries to fit her glass slipper onto her stepsisters’ feet. “I’ll find my own destiny, thank you very much,” Ella says to Fred.
The following spring, Ella plants the pumpkin seeds, and one grows to a splendid size. At the fair, she wins a blue ribbon and meets her future wife: another young farmer “who fell madly in love with Ella, just as she was.”
Zelinsky combines bustling, full-bleed spreads with an eye-catching palette marked by various shades of pink and—naturally—the deep orange of pumpkins. The masterfully composed spread in which Fred transforms into a horse at the tip of the fairy godmother’s magic wand is especially striking. And Hopkinson’s characters sparkle on the page: The fairy godmother is a hoot, Fred is charming and Ella possesses a refreshing amount of spunk. The text is funny (“Seriously?” says Ella, “Glass high heels?”), and the abundant dialogue flows seamlessly, making this spirited and romantic retelling a great choice for storytimes and classroom reader’s theater activities.
If you don’t see something, can it still exist? This engaging picture book takes inspiration from the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, who once argued to his professor Bertrand Russell that one couldn’t prove there wasn’t a rhinoceros in the room.
Enhanced by the vibrant blue, gold and green palette used by GOLDEN COSMOS (Berlin artists Doris Frieigofas and Daniel Dolz), Ludwig and the Rhinoceros: A Philosophical Bedtime Story (NorthSouth, $19.95, 9780735845275) opens with a red-haired Ludwig sitting on his bed at night and chatting with a large blue rhinoceros. However, when his father pops in to ask Ludwig whom he’s talking to, Ludwig answers, only to have his father assure the boy that there isn’t a rhinoceros—it’s just his imagination.
Ludwig directs his father to search in various places: in the dresser, under the bed and under the desk. While Ludwig’s father can’t see the rhinoceros, young readers will delight in pointing him out. (Ludwig’s blue friend even manages to snag a pair of briefs on his horn!) Matters soon come to a head as Ludwig challenges his dad to actually prove there isn’t a rhinoceros, using the example of the not-yet-risen moon to illustrate the notion that even if you don’t see something, it can still be there.
While at first glance Wittgenstein may seem a little advanced for a picture book, author Noemi Schneider has found a clever way of introducing philosophy to children. Adults will appreciate the back matter, which includes further context about Wittgenstein and his argument.
This original offering makes for an unusual bedtime tale that combines humor and depth—just right for budding philosophers everywhere.
Everybody in town is excited to participate in the library’s Libro Love book festival. There are secondhand books to buy, crafts to make, authors to meet and new skills to master . . . something for everyone!
Written and illustrated by Pura Belpré Award-winner Raul the Third, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! pulls readers into an explosion of true book love starring the spirited Little Lobo and his friends. This latest addition to the World of ¡Vamos! series is an energetic tribute to libraries, their patrons and readers of all stripes.
With colors by Elaine Bray, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! is a visual explosion in the style of a graphic novel, combining narrative text, dialogue bubbles and bold characters against warm-hued, detailed backdrops. It’s hard not to catch the excitement of the cast of animal characters, who are spirited, devoted book-lovers. Loosely based on the author’s hometown of El Paso, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! reflects a celebration of Mexican-American culture in every image. Raul the Third’s narration nimbly flows with Spanish as well as English, creating a sense of place and introducing non-Spanish readers to new words. A glossary at the end, although definitely not needed to follow the story, helps fill in any gaps.
Beyond the sheer joy of books, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! recognizes all the different ways people can enjoy libraries. We see characters use books to learn new skills like cooking and skateboarding. They hunt for their favorite titles, listen to audiobooks, take classes and make artwork. They even create their own books. Libraries are often portrayed as places for shushing and serious reading, but ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! showcases them as the bright, welcoming places of learning that they truly are.
Lengthier than most picture books, ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! is recommended for ages 4–8, but there is plenty to entertain keen-eyed older readers, including Easter eggs such as a brilliant nod to Stephen King: Gallos of the Corn by “Estéfan Rey.” There is so much to see in this vibrant ode to libraries that readers may be surprised upon a second reading by all the things they missed the first time around. There’s also a hefty dose of self-discovery and empowerment woven into each scene as ¡Vamos! Let’s Go Read! asks: What will you discover at the library?
In the poem “Book of Genesis” from his 2007 poetry collection, There Is an Anger That Moves, Kei Miller considers the famous declarations—”Let there be . . .”—uttered in the creation story from the Hebrew Bible’s book of Genesis. Miller asks: What is it about the word let that allows a whole world to be made? Let: A Poem About Wonder and Possibility adapts “Book of Genesis” into picture book form, continuing Miller’s exercise in allowing the open possibility of let to fashion and shape from each reader’s imagination a brand-new world “in which everyone has the freedom to realize one’s dreams.”
The Nigerian Italian artist Diana Ejaita’s beautiful, intricate and bright illustrations immediately stand out when one picks up Let. Inspired by her Nigerian heritage, Ejaita’s art incorporates movement, texture and rich colors. Each image features the silhouette of a child, whom we follow through Ejaita’s imagined world full of suns, rabbits, stars, birds and endless beauty. These spreads suggest a sense of motion that will keep readers mesmerized.
Miller’s poem encourages ongoing creativity and reminds us that the act of creation is a daily practice of leaning into the wonder and awe all around us. Making a world requires attention, optimism and curiosity. Let invites each reader to embrace the gifts of the children in our midst and allow the power of let to make our world a better place.
The combined efforts of Kei Miller and Diana Ejaita will leave readers uplifted and ready to see the beauty and joy all around them.
When opening an envelope from his recently deceased father, a young boy is confused to only find a map of the woods: “The woods were our place. Why would Dad ask me to go back without him?”
Begrudgingly, the boy laces his hiking boots and begins down the familiar path, along which he is able to recognize several animals—showing how many hours he and his father have spent in the woods. Eventually he comes to a lone chimney, the last remnant of a long gone home. “What was it Dad used to say? There’s always something that remains.” Inside, the boy finds a locked metal box containing drawings and scribbled stories about the forest wildlife.
Nikki Grimes, Brian Pinkney and his late father, Jerry Pinkney, have gifted us a heartbreakingly beautiful picture book about loss and grief. Endnotes explain the creation journey behind A Walk in the Woods (Neal Porter, $18.99, 9780823449651), where life imitated art in an almost unbelievable way. After Jerry’s wife (and celebrated author) Gloria Pinkney asked in 2019 why Jerry and Grimes had never worked together, the two longtime friends began to lay the groundwork for a story featuring an African American child exploring nature.
In October 2021, Jerry died, leaving behind an incredible legacy in children’s literature—but also incomplete artwork for A Walk in the Woods. Brian was given his father’s artwork just a few short weeks after his death, along with an invitation to finish the story his father began. With the help of Charnelle Pinkney Barlow (Jerry’s granddaughter and Brian’s niece), Brian began to merge his ethereal watercolor paintings with Jerry’s original line work, in an experience he calls “mysterious and mystical.”
Grimes’ text is full of depth and feeling and combines with the art in a brilliant display of color and life, capturing in detail the animals as well as the boy’s emotions on every page. The cool blues and purples in the beginning feel rife with grief, while the golds and reds of the woods bring a sense of lightness to both the story and the reader, and hints of green signify that life will continue.
A Walk in the Woods is truly an exquisite story of heartbreak and hope. The collaboration between Grimes and both Pinkneys is seamless, as if all were completely of one mind.
On the last page of the book, as the boy gathers his father’s drawings and begins his trek home, he asks, “Can you smile and cry at the same time?” Readers likely will.
Writer and illustrator Grace Lin loves to order takeout Chinese food but confesses she’s not a whiz when it comes to chopsticks. Speaking by phone from her home in Northampton, Massachusetts, she laughingly explains: “I can get the food to my mouth, but you’re supposed to hold one like a pencil, and just one chopstick is supposed to move. When I do it, both chopsticks move. It’s definitely not the correct way, but it works.”
Lin’s latest creation, Chinese Menu: The History, Myths, and Legends Behind Your Favorite Food, will make readers’ mouths water regardless of their chopstick skills. It’s a project she has been contemplating since 2004 but wasn’t ready to tackle until recently. Beautifully illustrated by Lin—who has won both the Caldecott and the Newbery—Chinese Menu features 40 or so stories about the legends and history behind popular American Chinese foods—everything from egg rolls and wonton soup to General Tso’s Chicken and fortune cookies.
“In my circles, it seems like people know lo mein just as well as a hot dog, you know? Working on this book has really shifted my idea of what American food is.”
“I spent most of my childhood trying to pretend that I wasn’t Asian,” Lin says, reminiscing about growing up in Utica, New York, where few Asian families lived at the time. “The two tenuous connections I had to my heritage were reading Chinese folktales and legends that my mom snuck me and the food that we ate every day. So those were the two ways that my culture was passed on to me as a child. I guess that’s why I use them so often in my books, because they were the only roots that I felt I had. I’ve been strengthening them over time.”
Even though her very first books—The Ugly Vegetables (1999) and Dim Sum for Everyone (2001)—were about Chinese food, she says, “I think for years I almost felt like I was faking it. That I look Asian on the outside, but didn’t really feel Asian on the inside. It’s really through doing all these books that I finally feel like I can claim that part of my identity.”
Her first editor advised her to write a book featuring a white character to avoid being pigeonholed as a “multicultural author and illustrator.” She didn’t take his advice. “Back then, that was a burden,” she muses. “Now I take it as a badge of honor.” Throughout a career that has spanned over two decades, Lin has created board books, picture books, early readers and children’s novels featuring Asian and Asian American characters. Several novels (Year of the Dog, Year of the Rat and Dumpling Days) are based on her own life as the child of parents who grew up in Taiwan while it was still called the Nationalist Republic of China.
Lin has come a long way since those early days of self-doubt. In 2022, the American Library Association awarded her the Children’s Literature Legacy Award. As for Chinese Menu, she says, “This book is not me claiming that part of my identity. This book is not to prove to myself or to others that I’m Asian enough or American enough. This book is a celebration to show the world how wonderful that identity is. It’s something with a lot of richness, joy and wonder, and that’s enjoyable for everyone, because it’s food.”
Over the years, Lin had filed away numerous Chinese restaurant menus that she found interesting, and she would occasionally discuss the project as a possibility with her current editor (who happens to be a best friend she met in fifth grade). During COVID-19 lockdowns, incidents of anti-Asian prejudice and violence increased, and Lin felt compelled to tackle this book. “It seemed like an opportune time to celebrate being Asian American,” she says. She dove into her boxes of material and hired a research assistant, Izabelle Brande from the Department of East Asian Languages and Culture at Smith College. Lin doesn’t read Chinese, but Brande provided her with translations of many secondary sources. “I had a lot of stories via word of mouth from my parents and relatives,” Lin recalls. “I would know one version of a story, and [Brande] was really amazing because she would tell me that there are actually three versions.”
“I absolutely adore myths, legends and folk tales, as you can tell from all of my work,” she continues. “But one of the things that I really wanted to do with this book was to show how these stories are still part of our culture today. What’s more tangible and easier to understand than the food that we eat?”
“This book is not to prove to myself or to others that I’m Asian enough or American enough. This book is a celebration to show the world how wonderful that identity is. It’s something with a lot of richness, joy and wonder, and that’s enjoyable for everyone, because it’s food.”
Lin not only wrote Chinese Menu, but also illustrated it, using her tween daughter and her daughter’s friend as models. Being both an illustrator and writer allows Lin to make adjustments in both pictures and prose as she goes—for instance, shortening text that she realizes is shown in the art—even up until the last minute. Chinese Menu is unusual because it’s the first time Lin has illustrated digitally. For the cover and the present-day food pictures, she painted with gouache by hand—her usual way—but to illustrate the traditional stories, she scanned initial drawings and colored them digitally in a limited color palette.
“I wanted to separate the folktales from present-day life,” she says. Lin is happy with the results, but it took a toll physically—she moved around less at the computer and became sore from being in the same position for hours. Nonetheless, she says, “I often dream about doing a graphic novel, and I realize now that the only way I would ever be able to do that is to embrace digital media.”
Lin encountered a few surprises as she worked. First, she hoped to find a good story about soy sauce but found nothing—“just stuff about trying to make food salty without using so much salt. It was all really boring.” One discovery that delighted her, however, was the realization of how important American Chinese food is to American culture: “It’s become integrated into our lives just as much as hamburgers and pizza. In my circles, it seems like people know lo mein just as well as a hot dog, you know? Working on this book has really shifted my idea of what American food is.”
Her book includes just one recipe, for her mother’s scallion pancakes. “It’s called Chinese Menu because it’s about food that you order at a restaurant,” Lin says with a laugh. “I don’t mind cooking, but I would rather read a book!”
In a thoughtful attempt to reckon with the past, Meg Kissinger delivers a spellbinding account of how mental illness and addiction ripped her family apart.
Zadie Smith writes eloquent, powerful and often quite humorous novels with social issues at the fore, and The Fraud is no exception. Its firm grounding
He Who Drowned the World, Shelley Parker-Chan’s sequel to She Who Became the Sun, is the most finely crafted fantasy novel of the year.
Angie Kim’s suspenseful follow-up to Miracle Creek follows a family that lives in a quiet and even bucolic neighborhood near Washington, D.C. They try to
Virginia Sole-Smith provides tons of helpful advice for navigating food and conversation with your child to help unpack fatphobia.
Roads aren’t going away anytime soon, but Crossings will spark conversation around the future of motorized vehicles and transportation in general.
Lucy Parker’s breezy and winning new rom-com, Codename Charming, follows a reserved royal bodyguard and the perky personal assistant of the prince he protects.
Chinese Menu is a treat in every way: an exceptional compilation that can be read all at once or taken out from time to time
Nikki Grimes, Brian Pinkney and his late father, Jerry Pinkney, have gifted us a heartbreakingly beautiful picture book about loss and grief.
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Upon opening A Cloud in a Jar, this reviewer let out an audible gasp at the deep blues and blacks of the midnight sky and crashing ocean that saturate the pages with edge-to-edge colors. Across the endsheet, a mysterious, cluttered cityscape collides with itself.
A Cloud in a Jar’s first stanza will hook readers as two intrepid kids and one less intrepid cat set off in a boat to bring rain (via a captured cloud) to a lovely seaside town of Firelight Bay, where they have everything but rain. The three adventurers make their way across the water to fulfill their mission aided by their wit, a coat full of useful items, and a little bit of the fantastic. But success might look a little different than they anticipated.
Aaron Lewis Krol’s rhyming pattern is vaguely reminiscent of both Dr. Seuss and Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee.” A departure from rhymes traditionally aimed at children, Krol’s verse has an elevated, sophisticated feel that is further enhanced by eloquent alliteration, poetic similes and an intelligent vocabulary. This entertaining, not quite tongue-twisting read-aloud pulls you along like waves toward an unknown shore.
Carlos Vélez Aguilera’s fantastic and energetic multimedia art is an endless feast for the eyes and an invitation to explore. The dark and imposing oceans and skies are just the right amount of scary. Intricate details such as lightning over the city, prints on a handkerchief and the aforementioned cloud in a jar will keep readers scanning the pages. Aguilera captures attention and evokes emotion throughout: We feel the alarm in the eye of a stranded whale, the hostility and chaos in a flock of aggressive birds, the electricity of a storm over water and the rush of diving far below the waves into safety.
A Cloud in the Jar has everything: clever narration, a straightforward message about bravery and determination, and brilliant artwork. This tale of innovative adventurers is engrossing and a true delight to read out loud.
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