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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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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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Twelve-year-old Charley Cuffey loves a few things: her Nana Kofi and his stories; correcting the grammar of her best friend, Cool Willie Green; and above all else, baseball. She has been obsessed since her daddy took her to see a Negro Leagues game, and is determined to be the first woman to be a professional baseball player—a big goal for anyone, but even more so for a Black girl living through segregation. When she challenges a bully to a game that takes them into the white part of town, she faces consequences that extend beyond baseball.

Newbery Medalist Kwame Alexander’s Black Star is the gripping second book of what is sure to be an impactful trilogy. The bestselling first installment, The Door of No Return, centered on Kofi, a tween living in Ghana during the 1860s, who loves swimming and his own nana’s stories. His story ended with him facing an unknown fate. This sequel jumps forward to segregated Virginia in the 1920s, where Kofi is a storytelling nana himself, slowly revealing the gaps of his life as he shares them with his granddaughter, Charley.

Alexander has found a magic formula in his verse novels featuring protagonists whose lives revolve around a sport: Their love of the game keeps the plot moving forward and offers a plethora of potential for metaphor. Charley is a vibrant and creative narrator, full of important questions for her Nana, and excellent hyperbole like “it’s so quiet / I can hear the moon.” Alexander uses every aspect of his poems to his advantage. For example, a striking chapter features poems whose titles all begin with “Fifth Sunday,” showing just how significant this big game day is to Charley.

As in The Door of No Return, a significant theme throughout Black Star is the power of storytelling. In an author’s note, Alexander explains his dedication to portraying Black history accurately. He highlights real historical events through actual poetry and information about public figures from that time, but maintains focus on the stories “about the regular families that lived, laughed, loved, danced, worked, failed, hoped, cried, and died just like everybody else.”

Readers continuing the series, as well as those starting with Black Star, will be gifted with a reading experience that is equal parts difficult and beautiful. All will be called to remember Nana Kofi’s wisdom, that “when we water our words, they grow our minds.”

 

Readers continuing Kwame Alexander’s Door of No Return trilogy, as well as those starting with Black Star, will be gifted with a reading experience that is equal parts difficult and beautiful.
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Felix Powell isn’t like most 8-year-olds. When his Nan gives him $5 to spend on anything at a thrift shop, he is drawn toward an old blanket. Additionally, he can communicate with his dog, the phenomenally named Mary Puppins. After he and Puppins try everything they can think of to discover the blanket’s secret magic, they decide to play a game: Can You Free Felix From the Blanket While He Holds On as Tight as He Can? But when the blanket comes off, it’s not Felix the Human Boy hiding underneath. Suddenly, he’s transformed into Felix Powell, Boy Dog!

Felix and Puppins proceed to have a day filled with learning all about being a dog, from bickering with the local stray cat, Gumbo, to learning how to “sweetface” and do “nice-thoughting” with Puppins. But as it gets closer to dinner time, Felix begins to worry how he is going to turn back into a boy. Can he get Gumbo to share the secret she seems to be holding in? Or will his Nan find two dogs when she goes outside to look for Felix?

Newbery Medalist Erin Entrada Kelly’s Felix Powell, Boy Dog is a heartwarming and hilarious opening to a planned series of illustrated chapter books. Felix is also friends with Marisol from Kelly’s previous Maybe Marisol series. New and returning fans will delight at how Kelly tiptoes into fantasy to answer a question many have surely pondered: What is it like to be a dog?

Black-and-white illustrations are equal parts adorable and entertaining, and sure to satisfy voracious graphic novel readers. Here Kelly leans into graphic novel elements, with entire sections of comic-style storytelling. Kelly’s books stand out because of her attention to detail and hidden Easter eggs. For example, in an illustration of a bookshelf at the thrift shop, a lot of the titles are books from Felix Powell, Boy Dog’s imprint, Greenwillow.

Sweet lessons about compassion, as well as copious animal facts, are sprinkled throughout. Reluctant and eager young readers alike will enjoy getting to know Felix and will anxiously imagine what animal he might change into next.

Reluctant and eager young readers alike will enjoy getting to know Felix Powell, Boy Dog, and will anxiously imagine what animal he might change into next.
STARRED REVIEW
September 1, 2024

Best Hispanic and Latinx titles of 2024 (so far)

Celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month (September 15 to October 15) by reading one of these excellent books by Hispanic and Latinx authors.
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Emergency Quarters

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Lightning in Her Hands

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Celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month (September 15 to October 15) by reading one of these excellent books by Hispanic and Latinx authors.
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The Zebra’s Great Escape is a delightful, action-filled saga packed into picture book format—which its creators use to their full advantage. Katherine Rundell’s text brims with heart and humorous details, while Sara Ogilvie’s illustrations feature explosions of color that nicely contrast with the black-and-white zebras at the center of this adventure. 

An exuberant girl nicknamed Mink befriends a zebra who suddenly appears one day. “Mink was not usually gentle,” Rundell writes. “She liked doing things fast and wild. But it was with all the gentleness in the world that she reached out and laid a hand on the zebra’s fur.” The zebra, Gabriel, communicates through swirling streams of color, and explains that he needs help finding his parents, who have been kidnapped by an evil “Collector” named Mr. Spit.

Mink discovers that she can also communicate via color with her elderly pet dog, Rainbow (aptly named). He is loath to help “the barcode-horse,” but Mink begs, noting, “Daddy says, when people ask you for help, they’re actually doing a magnificent thing—they’re giving you the chance to change the world for the better!” Rainbow is persuaded, with the help of a small bribe, to send a message to all the animals in the city, and off our heroes go, to confront the evil Collector and free an entire alphabet of animals in dire straits. 

The picture book combines an appealing old-fashioned feel with modern flair, in moments such as when oblivious adults, busy staring at their phones, don’t notice a girl riding a galloping zebra through the streets. Ogilvie’s lively illustrations bring Rundell’s delicious prose to life. Mink is so full of zest that she practically leaps off the page, while the dastardly Mr. Spit resembles Captain Hook with his long, thin mustache, jutting chin and fancy attire. The color orange pervades the book—in Gabriel’s fiery communications, in Mink’s polka-dotted shirt, in the burning rage that surrounds the evil Mr. Spit. It’s nicely offset by numerous pages bathed in blue: cozy bedtime scenes, the animals running to freedom and spirited celebrations at the end.

Don’t miss The Zebra’s Great Escape, a kaleidoscopic celebration of communication and the rewards of helping one another. 

Sara Ogilvie’s lively illustrations bring the spirit of Katherine Rundell’s delicious prose to life in The Zebra’s Great Escape, which features a protagonist so full of zest that she practically leaps off the page.

It’s summertime, and 13-year-old Aidan Cross is looking forward to lots of fun with his closest friends: handsome athlete Kai, class clown Zephyr and studious Terrance. They’ll ride bikes, go swimming, play D&D and watch movies. And they’ll engage in the group’s favorite pastime, “yeeting crap at the Witch House,” a tumbledown Victorian mansion with “broken and shattered windows . . . like hungry mouths with glass teeth.”

Aidan has something specific in mind for the yeeting session at the beginning of Preston Norton’s The House on Yeet Street. In addition to sticks and stones, he’ll yeet his notebook into the Witch House, where it’ll be safe from prying eyes. “The inside of this notebook was the one place Aidan was allowed to be himself. It was nice to invent a version of him that did and said the things he was afraid to say and do”—like confessing his romantic feelings for Kai. 

But the thrill of a successful yeet turns appallingly sour when his friends announce an impending Witch House sleepover. Aidan is desperate to grab his notebook before someone else does, and he sort of succeeds: His friends don’t find it, but a ghost does. She’s Gabby Caldwell, a teenaged girl who was found dead in the mansion 20 years ago and has been stuck inside since. Gabby wants Aidan to find out what happened to her so she can escape the house. She also wants him to continue the story he’s been writing in his notebook (his first positive review!). 

Aidan and friends spring into action, investigating Gabby’s demise and delving into the Witch House’s disturbing past. They encounter landmines galore, including a terrifying specter stalking them around town, a mean girl stealing and posting Aidan’s notebook online and extreme parental exasperation. Can the group make sense of the supernatural goings-on before the house claims another victim?

Norton, author of Hopepunk (one of BookPage’s Best YA Books of 2022), has crafted an action-packed, compelling coming-of-age tale about coming out and becoming brave, all wrapped up in a supremely creepy horror story rife with ghosts and legend, hilarious dialogue and daring adventures. It’s scary, sometimes sweet, rollicking good fun.

Preston Norton has crafted an action-packed, compelling tale about coming out and becoming brave, wrapped up in a supremely creepy horror story rife with ghosts and legend, hilarious dialogue and daring adventures.
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Reading Still Life makes one immediately wish for children to share it with, since this book is guaranteed to have them shouting in glee, their exclamations growing louder with every turn of the page. At the same time, because readers must pay careful attention to the visual details on each page, enjoying the book is a wonderful exercise in observation, memory and anticipation. 

The fun is not surprising, given that author Alex London has written over 30 books for children and teens. In Still Life, the focus is on a curly-haired artist intent on explaining the concept of still life paintings—especially how predictable they are. “This is a still life,” he begins. “It is a painting of objects sitting still. In a still life, nothing moves.” He stands beside a rather baroque work in progress depicting a strange collection including items like a dollhouse, jam, paper and a flickering candle. 

Caldecott Medalist Paul O. Zelinsky carefully delineates between the painting, which is laden with colorful, intricate details, and the artist’s real world, which is composed of much starker, quicker sketches. This delineation helps readers differentiate between art and “reality” in this delightfully meta picture book. The first sign of trouble appears when a pair of mice climb up the artist’s (real) table, eventually scurrying into the painting and getting into the (painted) jam. Soon a princess, dragon and a knight appear in the painting, prompting the artist to declare, “Dragons? No, nothing like that in this sort of painting. There are no creatures to ruin the tablecloth or stomp through the strawberries. None whatsoever!” Kids will relish the oodles of activity taking place right under the artist’s oblivious nose, especially when he announces, “If you see a note in a still-life painting, please do not read it.” Still Life provides a fabulous, subtle way to teach children they shouldn’t always believe everything they hear, no matter how earnest the proclaimer may be.

London and Zelinsky have fun turning expectations upside down, such as when the princess saves the dragon from the troublesome knight. Still Life is a hilarious hoot, and readers will likely never look at a still life in quite the same way. 

Still Life is a hilarious hoot, and readers will likely never look at a still life painting in quite the same way.
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One Small Spark: A Tikkun Olam Story presents a big idea to young readers in an accessible, manageable way. Starting with a dreary spread of a cityscape, overshadowed by dark clouds and scribbles, the text asks readers to “Imagine the world you want to live in. If that’s not the world you see, will you create it?

A girl departs a city bus with an older woman, both of their bodies bright splashes of color in a sea of bleak tones. At a park, another girl, also bathed in color, stares forlornly at a broken swing. After the first girl, our young protagonist, helps fix the swing, she notices piles of trash and other broken things nearby, including a little free library and a seesaw. As Victoria Tentler-Krylov’s illustrations show the girl eagerly gathering others—including kids and adults—to come together and restore the park, Ruth Spiro’s sparse text offers encouragement, such as, “In a moment you decide who you are and who you want to be.”  

An author’s note explains that the story is an example of the Jewish concept of tikkun olam, which can be translated as “repair the world,” “improve” or “make right.” Presented in this manner, it’s an idea that will readily appeal to young readers and is likely to set their own creative wheels spinning about problems they might tackle. 

Spiro’s narration is just right—gently didactic and inspiring without being heavy-handed—and Tentler-Krylov’s illustrations feel magical as they show color gradually spreading through this girl’s world as the result of her actions. By the end of the book, there’s a Marc Chagall-like quality to Tentler-Krylov’s art, in which figures swirl in movement and action, suggesting all of the possibilities that determined people can achieve. The final spreads of One Small Spark are a riot of color, full of constructive energy—a stark contrast from the dour cityscape at the start of the book.

One Small Spark is an ode to positive transformation, an affirming book that’s just right for its young audience.

One Small Spark is an ode to positive transformation, an affirming book that’s just right for its young audience.

One of the most delicious parts of this exuberant picture book set in 20th-century Tokyo is the inclusion of two small, eye-popping historic photos: Here are actual soba noodle deliverymen in action, balancing impossible towers of noodles on one shoulder as they whiz through the city streets. The images, which appear in the front matter and on the back cover of Noodles on a Bicycle, complement Kyo Maclear’s tribute to these wheeled magicians, and will help young readers see that Gracey Zhang’s illustrations of these noodle towers are inspired by the real thing.

In an author’s note, Maclear shares that she spent her childhood in a Tokyo neighborhood where cycling deliverymen were part of daily life—and completely fascinating to a child. Maclear’s lyrical, rhythmic text captures this childhood sense of wonder, as the narrator and her siblings wait in the morning for the first “flicker of pedal and wheel.” The narrative also includes the actual noodle-making process, in which the sobaya chef rises at dawn to cut noodles and create his special, famous broth.

Store names, road signs and advertisements on trucks are all shown in Japanese characters. Zhang’s vibrant, colorful illustrations are full of tiny, authentic details that will entrance adult readers as well. If you imagined that these cyclists balanced light, relatively sturdy bowls made of plastic or lacquer, you’d be wrong: They carried ceramic soup bowls and wooden soba boxes. As the story follows these amazing acrobats throughout their busy day, the narrator and her friends and siblings practice balancing bowls filled with water. Watch out!

There’s a lovely surprise at the end, too, as the children and their mother are getting hungry for dinner. Will they get a delivery themselves? They will, and it’s special indeed, brought by their own “delivery daddy.”  Rather than end with the meal, we see a tired father lovingly tucking his children into bed, while outside the empty dishes are stacked for collection. In Noodles on a Bicycle, words and art come together seamlessly to reveal a world now long gone, in a loving, memorable tale that children will want to savor time and again. 

In Noodles on a Bicycle, words and art come together seamlessly to reveal a world long gone of soba deliverymen in 20th-century Tokyo—while also spinning a loving, memorable tale that children will want to savor time and again.
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Together with Miguel Tanco’s energetic, loose-lined illustrations and warm lemon-yellow palette, Paola Quintavalle’s sparse text in Making Space leaves copious room for connecting the book’s short vignettes to its evocative title, which asks readers to ponder moments in their lives to which they can intentionally allocate their time and attention.

These moments capture a wide range of tones. There are moments of mischief (keeping a secret); fear (seeing a snake in the wild); sorrow (mourning a dead bird); joy (ice-skating); and more. Readers see children who take chances, lead with curiosity, make and say goodbye to friends, and play. Some vignettes depict trying moments: In one of the early spreads, Quintavalle mentions “things that can go wrong,” while Tanco depicts a child cutting a friend’s hair with scissors. On the next page, the recipient of the haircut glares, with arms crossed, into a mirror at the unexpected, unconventional results. What is the character “making space” for? Is it anger or frustration? Could it be making space for acceptance? Is it all of the above? Quintavalle seamlessly and subtly prompts these questions for readers.

Though some spreads feature indoor settings, Tanco’s sunny tableaux primarily feature small children playing outside and exploring the natural world, without any cell phones or screens in view. He depicts heightened emotions (an angry child stomping off with a soccer ball) and lots of lively joy (children playing on the shore, or looking for clover on a sunny day). The closing spread, in which children camping outdoors welcome the night, makes this a potential bedtime read-aloud, but this is a book to make space for at any time of day.

Paola Quintavalle seamlessly and subtly prompts a variety of discussion questions with the sparse text of Making Space, while Miguel Tanco's sunny illustrations capture a wide range of emotions.
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Goat and Bunny are BFFs with a lot in common (mainly, coffee and canned grass). However, stressful situations sometimes make their differences stand out. Luckily, Goat and Bunny learn cooperation, flexibility and acceptance as their friendship grows. It Is Okay, written and delightfully illustrated by Ye Guo, is a great pick for little ones learning to navigate life when it doesn’t go their way.

Guo writes with an easy, declarative style that is accessible for little ones and contains a power in its simplicity. Forgoing flowery descriptions for factual narration works well when combined with her explosive art: There’s hardly time to read when faced with such joyful artistic chaos! From the first image of Goat, halfway inside his cupboard, digging around for canned grass, surrounded by debris from his ransacked pantry, Guo illustrates with clear glee. Every page is a cacophony of style and color, hurriedly sketched and meticulously detailed in turn—and absolutely fun. Readers will want to look at every single image for fear of missing something hilarious (watch closely for a slug on an underground toilet). Into this mix come Bunny and Goat, whose facial expressions add to the hilarity. Goat’s face as he waits for Bunny, stuck headfirst and upside down in a tiny rabbit den, will make one laugh out loud. It’s just plain fun art that kids will love. 

But for all the laughs and silliness, It Is Okay has a well-rounded and important message about acceptance that translates beyond yummy ideas on preparing canned grass. It is great to have friends who are different from us. They help us become stronger and more resilient, and aid us in exploring the world in new ways.

For all the laughs and silliness, It Is Okay has a well-rounded and important message about acceptance that goes beyond goat and bunny friendships.

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