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In the nearly wordless I’m Sorry You Got Mad, the main character, Jack, owes his friend Zoe an apology. Throughout the book, Jack scribbles out tepid apologies on ripped notebook paper, his cheeks an angry red and mouth turned into an angry frown. His teacher, Ms. Rice, needs him to write a heartfelt apology, but Jack isn’t sure how to do that: Drafts like “I’M SORRY YOU GOT SO MAD!!!” don’t quite cut it. Besides, he’s still mad that Zoe got so mad!

As the book goes on, each apology letter becomes a bit clearer, a bit closer to the real thing. At one point, even the reader may be tricked into thinking the apology is perfect—but Ms. Rice continues her coaching and asks Jack to try again. And he does. But will Zoe forgive him?

Kyle Lukoff’s I’m Sorry You Got Mad is an incredible conversation starter. The only words involved are those on Jack’s apology note, the notes of encouragement Ms. Rice writes back to help Jack craft a real apology, and Zoe’s eventual response. It’s never clear exactly what happened to cause the hurt feelings or whose fault it is, but that also doesn’t matter. What matters is honoring each other’s feelings and making things right. I’m Sorry You Got Mad goes a long way in teaching children the different ways an apology can sound, the ways it can fall flat, and the ways we can repair and restore beloved friendships. Julie Kwon’s expressive character illustrations will help readers identify the difference between anger, regret and remorse. The classroom and other students in the background of the illustrations also give both children and adults opportunities to pore over several little backstories, imagine what might be happening in them and why, and consider who else in Jack’s class might be due an apology. After all, everyone is going to owe someone an apology at some point. So we might as well learn how to do it right. This instructive book can help anyone who struggles to make amends—kid or grown-up.

Kyle Lukoff’s nearly wordless I’m Sorry You Got Mad is an incredible conversation starter, bolstered by Julie Kwon's expressive character illustrations.
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Oliver Jeffers is one of the most recognizable and innovative creators in children’s literature today, and The Dictionary Story showcases his vivid imagination at work in yet another collaboration with the wildly inventive Sam Winston (following A Child of Books). An authors’ note explains this picture book as the product of a team of “so many talented friends,” including bookmaker Haein Song, who crafted the handmade dictionary incorporated into each brilliant spread. 

Perfect for youngsters, especially those just learning the alphabet, The Dictionary Story will be appreciated by adults as well, as it brings layers of clever wordplay and elements that may take several encounters for readers to discover. The book introduces a dictionary who isn’t sure of her purpose, given that “she didn’t tell a story like all the other books.” Frustrated by this, Dictionary decides one day to “bring her words to life,” an action that is depicted to readers as drawings that seem to emerge from, leap off and otherwise escape their previously well-ordered pages. Unsurprisingly, a mess ensues, as a hungry Alligator goes in search of something to eat, chasing Donut through the pages and running into figures such as Ghost, Moon and Soap along the way. Dictionary is disappointed that “now nothing was in the right place or even making sense” and worried that “her words would be no use to anyone now.” 

To clean up the chaos, Dictionary calls upon her friend Alphabet and starts the song that “helped put everyone back together again,” restoring order to the words and their definitions. Children will love this opportunity to sing along, and adults will appreciate the chance to reinforce fundamental aspects of reading. Instructive though it may be, The Dictionary Story is even more fun than function, and it will reward repeat encounters, with readers delighted to find the unexpected definitions populating this most unique of dictionaries. A masterful combination of the simple and the complex, this book is sure to be a favorite.

Instructive though it may be, The Dictionary Story is even more fun than function, and the unexpected definitions populating this most unique of dictionaries will reward repeat encounters.
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Magic always occurs when a book’s narration and illustrations are perfectly matched. But an even more special kind of magic happens when the art goes beyond the written word and weaves a quiet message of its own. Comet & Star is a deceptively simple, genuinely sweet story about friendship with an underlying profundity that will touch even the grumpiest readers’ hearts.

Author Juck Lee starts this picture book like a sweet, classic fairytale. Juck’s narration, translated by Stine Su Yon An, is straightforward, if somewhat expected, and lovely as it tells the tale of a charmingly personified, lonely little star. Meanwhile, illustrator Jinhee Lee uses layered colored pencils and varying perspectives to the protagonist’s celestial home and the earth below. 

The gentle-faced little star huddles against a quiet—and empty—space backdrop. High above windswept trees, it earnestly watches for new friends. One day, it meets a comet that passes by every 76 years, finally giving the star someone to connect with. Lee’s soft colored pencil art is full of movement, warmth and emotion; this is a humble little story that is easy to like.

But Lee’s art tells a second story, too: As the comet and star’s friendship unfolds in the skies, their lives are also being carefully documented below through newspaper clippings, photographs and notebooks filled with drawings. Taped sketches, dried leaves and notes of natural observations mark the passing of time and the careful attention of someone who is also watching and waiting. After several rereadings of Comet & Star, a realization hit this reviewer like a comet. The star waits for its only friend to return every 76 years, but here on Earth, it has admirers it could never have imagined—in a sense, friends who observe and love from miles away. That’s the true message of Comet & Star: For every friend you see, there are countless others thinking of you.

Whether you need a gift for an old friend you rarely see, or a bedtime story for a little one who loves to watch the night sky, Comet & Star is the perfect choice. Just like Halley’s Comet, books with this unique magic don’t stop by every day. Don’t miss it.

Whether you need a gift for an old friend, or a bedtime story for a little one who loves to watch the night sky, Comet & Star is the perfect choice. Just like Halley’s Comet, books with this unique magic don’t stop by every day.

Middle grade readers have long reveled in stories where museums and mystery intersect. Notable and beloved examples include E. L. Konigsburg’s From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, Blue Balliett’s Chasing Vermeer and Gillian McDunn’s When Sea Becomes Sky.

Bestselling author and Newbery Honor recipient Jasmine Warga joins in the artsy, sleuth-y fun with A Strange Thing Happened in Cherry Hall, a creative and compassionate tale featuring a stolen painting, a confused ghost and an inquisitive turtle.

Eleven-year-old Rami Ahmed’s mom supervises the cleaning crew at the Penelope L. Brooks Museum, and Rami spends a lot of time there after school. Lately, he’s also been very worried: A painting called “Untitled” has been stolen, and security staff consider him and his mom to be suspects. Things haven’t been good at school either, since his best friends publicly rejected and humiliated him at lunch. A smart, confident girl named Veda has invited him into her friend group, but he can’t stop reliving his feelings of hurt and shame. 

When Rami encounters the girl depicted in “Untitled” floating around the spot in Cherry Hall where the painting once hung, he has to stifle a few screams, but he also feels a glimmer of hope. The girl insists Rami help her figure out who she is, and he realizes his investigation could unearth the art thief as well. Crime podcast-aficionada Veda decides to join him, and even Agatha the turtle has information to contribute, too—if only she can get the humans to see her as more than a creature silently sunning itself on a rock.

Warga deftly layers in suspense and intrigue as the kids research the painting’s provenance, investigate the crime and try to avoid arousing suspicion in the adults around them. (After all, one of them might be the thief!) Through it all, A Strange Thing Happened in Cherry Hall exudes appreciation for the transformative nature of art—emphasized by Matt Rockefeller’s lovely grayscale illustrations at the book’s beginning and end—and exudes empathy for those who struggle with loneliness. After all, as one character notes, “It is a singular feeling to be understood. Seen. Connected. It is the best feeling in the whole world.”

Bestselling author and Newbery Honor recipient Jasmine Warga delivers artsy, sleuth-y fun in A Strange Thing Happened in Cherry Hall, a creative and compassionate tale featuring a stolen painting, a confused ghost and an inquisitive turtle.
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Once upon a time, we didn’t have cell phones. Emergency Quarters, written by Carlos Matias and illustrated by Gracey Zhang, takes us back to those days, while coming with a perfectly worded note for those young enough to not remember technology-free days. Emergency Quarters follows Ernesto through his first week of going to and from school without his parents. Before he heads out to walk with his friends, his mother gives him a payphone quarter to tuck safely away. Full of independence and responsibility, but not completely immune to temptation, Ernesto may be a child of the ’90s, but the essence of his story is timeless.

Carlos Matias narrates skillfully, conveying the thoughts of a child with lines like “But I got emergencies.” Ernesto comes across as generally thoughtful, observant and sincere: a character you can’t help but like. He is even adorably funny, such as when he declares he’s “Feelin’ freshhhh!” Matias uses descriptions, alliteration and assonance to craft a story perfect for reading aloud: just the right length, with good variety between dialogue and narration, and natural flow and rhythm.

Gracey Zhang’s illustrations make Emergency Quarters feel retro in the best way. It’s a comfortable mix between Sesame Street, Jack Prelutsky and Shel Silverstein that is instantly recognizable to those who grew up in that era. Wonderfully messy with imperfect lines and wonky angles, Zhang’s art is filled with more details than you could ever absorb. Every page is so alive and full of energy, I just wanted to visit Ernesto’s world. From Ernesto’s warm, happy house to the busy sidewalks, Zhang fills the neighborhood with kind and expressive faces that radiate safety and belonging.

While Emergency Quarters feels a bit like a tribute to the older generations who navigated their school route with a coin tucked into a pocket, its story will resonate with kids of all ages. Spending time with friends and sharing that little bit of independence. Hearing our parents’ reminders in our heads as we make decisions. And sometimes slipping up, knowing that even if the quarters aren’t plentiful, the love absolutely is.

From Ernesto’s warm, happy house to the busy sidewalks, the neighborhood of Emergency Quarters is alive and full of energy, and its story will resonate with kids of all ages.
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Newbery Medalist Erin Entrada Kelly is having a big year. Following the March publication of her eighth middle grade novel, The First State of Being, she’s releasing a new illustrated chapter book, Felix Powell, Boy Dog. Fans of Kelly’s previous chapter book series featuring Marisol Rainey will instantly recognize Marisol’s friend, Felix Powell, and both new and returning readers will delight in how Kelly leans into magical realism as she plays out a fantasy many have likely had: What is it like to be a dog?

““I really wanted to explore more of Felix’s world and I just thought it would be fun if he, and by extension readers, could experience what it’s like to be a dog,” says Kelly.Early on in Felix Powell, Boy Dog, Felix and his dog, Mary Puppins, are playing with a blanket he picked out at a thrift shop, when the blanket transforms Felix into a dog. Kelly admits, “When I was a kid, I always daydreamed about being a bird, and I still kind of do!”

Kelly calls writing for younger middle grade readers “palate cleanser” projects, explaining that there are “all kinds of complications of being a middle schooler, and Felix is only 8 years old. It was nice to live in that 8-year-old world where they’re still very full of wonder.” But sheestablishes early on that Felix isn’t like most 8-year-olds, either in words or actions. To start, he can speak to Mary Puppins even before turning into a dog himself.

Kelly loves writing about kids who aren’t like others because “I think that one of the hardest parts of childhood is when you feel like you’re different from everyone else.” She recognizes that, especially in school, “difference is not always treated with the respect, compassion and excitement that it should be. It brings me joy to be able to write about kids who do feel a little different, in whatever way they feel different, because it’s like writing a letter to my young self and . . . to all kids who feel like they don’t quite fit. It’s celebrating young people who go against the grain because those are the people who will change the world later.”

Kelly spends a lot of time imagining her readers, and she recognizes the importance of “representing all different kinds of family dynamics.” In the book, she beautifully and simply explains that “Felix’s mom couldn’t take care of him anymore, so Nan adopted him.” Kelly says, “It makes me happy to think there might be a kid reading it who lives with their grandmother or grandparents and thinks, ‘Oh, I live with my grandparents too!’ Just that moment of connection, even if it’s like one second as they’re reading the book, is so important, because the more connections we can make like that, the more impact we have on children’s lives.”

Kelly has a unique way of thinking that transfers over to her characters. In an intense emotional moment, Felix describes his rising frustration as feeling like a “human boy with a grumpy mechanic in his body, turning his gears.” Kelly says that came from her own childhood imagination: “I was so curious about how my body worked, and of course, I didn’t understand all the science behind it. So I would imagine there are these little workers in my body, and they were grinding the gears and pushing out the tears and making me laugh and making me eat.” Although cushioned with humor, the scene presents a very real example of how emotions can get the better of us, which is Kelly’s way of offering a moment for readers to know that they’re not alone in saying “things they don’t mean when they’re angry or frustrated.”

“Just that moment of connection, even if it’s like one second as they’re reading the book, is so important.”

Her love of dogs is apparent throughout Felix Powell, Boy Dog. She explains that a lot of the book “came from observing my dogs. I used to actually be on the board of the Humane Society of Southwest Louisiana,” and it was an easy choice for her when it came to picking what animal Felix should turn into in this book. “I just find them to be fascinating and, in many ways, perfect little creatures, in my mind anyway.” However, she teases, “my hope is that it continues as a series as he changes into various [other] everyday animals.”

As an author who writes a lot of varying books within the juvenile fiction classification, working on something for younger readers is what Kelly calls a “palate cleanser” to working on her upper middle grade books. She says there are “all kinds of complications of being a middle schooler, and Felix is only 8 years old. It was nice to live in that 8-year-old world where they’re still very full of wonder.”

Kelly also enjoys illustrating her own books—as she did with Felix Powell, Boy Dog—because it “activates a different part of my brain.” Kelly goes one step further by also incorporating graphic novel elements into Felix Powell, Boy Dog: For example, when Felix is telling the story of meeting Puppins, the prose narrative shifts into comic strips that add special emphasis to this “best day of his life” and highlight Puppins—amid a crowd of dogs who all had names—as an unnamed puppy with whom Felix connected right away. Right now, “young readers can’t quite get enough of graphic novels. So I wanted to be able to marry the traditional chapter book with the celebration of graphic novels that we have right now.” She hopes that both the kids who resist reading prose novels, and the parents who resist letting their kids read graphic novels, will be happy to pick this book up.

“I wanted to be able to marry the traditional chapter book with the celebration of graphic novels that we have right now.”

Of course, one wonders if Kelly will ever take the plunge and write a full graphic novel. “I used to say ‘Oh no, I couldn’t draw an entire graphic novel,’ but actually, writing Felix showed me that maybe I could, if I got the right idea.” Kelly admits. “Never say never, huh?”

The award-winning author and illustrator’s latest middle grade novel explores a common daydream: living life as a dog.
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STARRED REVIEW
August 6, 2024

3 picture books for the start of the school year

As the school buses begin to roll, these offerings will help young readers ease into back-to-school mode, and remind them that a world of stories is waiting to be discovered in each and every classroom.

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On the first morning of preschool, Ravi comes downstairs wearing ladybug wings and antennae. When he refuses cornflakes for breakfast, his mother tells him that it’s actually a bowl full of “aphids,” leading him to slurp it down. Later, when she suggests that Ravi brush his teeth, he replies, “Ladybugs don’t have teeth . . . but my mandibles could do with a clean—they’re full of aphid guts.” Such is the delightful back-and-forth between a mother and her imaginative son in Ali Rutstein’s Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool, a familiar tale of first day of school jitters with a creative twist.

Despite his reluctance, Ravi is a “curious sort of ladybug,” somewhat tempted by his mother’s promise of new friends and art projects. There’s a perfectly balanced interplay between Ravi’s worries and his mother’s support and encouragement. Kids will enjoy the exchange of ladybug details, although additional educational facts about these insects would have been a nice addition for eager learners.

Niña Nill’s cheerful art adds just the right touch, transforming Ravi and his bowl haircut into a ladybug look-alike, and adding subtle details such as an “Aphids” label to the cereal box. Nill puts elements like this on every page—Ravi’s red cheeks look like ladybug spots, and the house’s bright floral dining room rug, seen from an overhead perspective, makes readers feel as though they’re gazing into a garden scene.

Ravi’s worried expressions readily transmit his fears, which evaporate when he sees a helpful omen once at school, as well as other students’ imaginative costumes on the final spread. Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool overflows with imagination and humor, making it an excellent choice for young new students.

Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool overflows with imagination and humor, making it an excellent choice for young new students.
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Get ready to fall in love with Max, the irrepressible elementary school narrator of That Always Happens Sometimes. He’s full of energy and enthusiasm that constantly erupts like a volcano.

In Kiley Frank’s clever text, Max poses a series of questions that reveal his personality, such as “Have your electric pencil sharpener privileges ever been revoked because of an unfortunate incident with a crayon?”  On each spread, K-Fai Steele’s illustrations beautifully capture Max’s gusto and the path of debris—not to mention consequences—that follow. His parents and teachers try to rein him in with multiple checklists (items include “keep hands to myself”) and interventions (tennis balls on the legs of his chair to squelch his noisy movements).

Both Frank and Steele excel at conveying much with small, powerful flourishes. For instance, in the chaotic aftermath of Max’s parents trying to get him to school on time, Frank writes, “The car ride to school was very quiet,” while a full-page spread uses just a few strokes to show Max in the back seat clutching his backpack and his father gripping the steering wheel, fury flashing in his eyes and tight-lipped mouth.

Frank uses Max’s questions to reveal life at home and at school, and poses variations on his answers to move the story along in creative ways. Max repeatedly notes, “That always happens sometimes,” or “I always feel that way.”  One day, however, he says, “This has never happened before,” as he participates in an intriguing team-building exercise that produces surprising and affirming results for all.

Young and old readers alike will recognize themselves or someone they know in Max. That Always Happens Sometimes is a delightful book guaranteed to bring on both laughs and greater understanding of the many Maxs in the world.

That Always Happens Sometimes is a delightful book guaranteed to bring on both laughs and greater understanding of the many Maxs in the world.
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Drew Beckmeyer’s The First Week of School is a game changer, an exceptionally creative back-to-school book that practically turns the genre on its head. It’s full of droll humor that will appeal to readers young and old. As the title suggests, it chronicles a first week inside an elementary school classroom, offering a bird’s-eye view of a variety of perspectives. In a clever, understated nod to the way people tend to pigeonhole both themselves and others, the students are given simple monikers such as the Artist, the Inventor and the Sports Kings, “who usually spend all Recess arguing about teams and never get to actually playing.” But at one point, readers learn that “The Artist is actually the fastest runner in the grade.” Beckmeyer even shares the perspective of Pat, the class’s pet bearded dragon; as well as the teacher (“the teacher gets her eighth cup of coffee before lunch”).

The plot thickens on Tuesday, when an alien called Nobody is beamed down from a spaceship, although everyone at school simply assumes this is the new student who was supposed to arrive next week. All sorts of unexpected, imaginative interactions occur: Nobody and Pat have a slumber party; the Inventor finds mysterious machine parts under his desk; Nobody takes an interest in the shy Artist’s drawings and even mounts an exhibition.

The First Week of School is a sophisticated picture book that packs an amazing punch, brimming with atmosphere and personality—and a wide range of activities, including a STEM lab, gym, show and tell, and recess. It overflows with wry comments, such as an escalating exchange about reading levels during storytime that ends with one student announcing, “I actually memorized this whole book. I read at a twentieth-grade level.”

Beckmeyer’s art style carries a childlike feel, adding authenticity to his narrative voice. Rendered in crayon, his many aerial perspectives take the reader from outer space and zoom in on the sun setting over the ocean and hilly terrain surrounding the school, then on the schoolyard and parking lot, eventually beaming readers—as well as the visiting alien—right into the classroom. In addition to being chock-full of pure entertainment, the diverse perspectives offered in The First Week of School remind readers of all ages that there are many ways to approach a classroom and the many unique, surprising personalities inside.

The First Week of School is a sophisticated picture book that packs an amazing punch, brimming with atmosphere and personality

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As the school buses begin to roll, these offerings will help young readers ease into back-to-school mode, and remind them that a world of stories is waiting to be discovered in each and every classroom.
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Who doesn’t love a friendly little ghost? Readers will fall in love with the delightful hero of Wolfgang in the Meadow, who yearns to be a master of causing fright, but whose happy place is basking in the wonders of a nearby meadow. When he’s not casting spells and “twirling in the air,” Wolfgang loves to hug trees, pick wildflowers and gaze at the sky. His goal is to follow his hero, The Mighty Hubert, as guardian of the Dark Castle. After 999.5 years of his reign, Hubert is about to pick his successor.

As Wolfgang studies the dark arts, he no longer has time to enjoy the splendors of the sunny meadow. Once he achieves his goal and holes up in the castle, he starts to flounder because something is missing. How can Wolfgang continue following this dream while not losing his essence as a nature-loving ghoul?

Author-illustrator Lenny Wen achieves eye-catching contrasts between the gentle meadow and fearsome manor with a combination of graphite and acrylic gouache. Children will delight in the spooky, darkly-tinted Dark Castle, which brims with lightning bolts, skulls and secret potions. The tone is perfect for young audiences, with well-balanced—“frightful,” but ultimately nonthreatening—scenes featuring pint-sized spirits. Nightmares are highly unlikely to ensue from all of this spooky cuteness. These eerie scenes stand out vividly against the bright colors of Wolfgang’s meadow, and together they provide a visual feast that helps readers understand the pleasures of both of Wolfgang’s passions, and how one feeds the other. Wolfgang himself—whose huggable shape resembles a puffy marshmallow—pops out amidst the lush green landscape, filled with wildflowers and woodland creatures.

With Wolfgang in the Meadow, Wen has created a fine story arc about making one’s own way in the world, defying stereotypes and the pleasures of leading a well-rounded life. It’s full of heart and humor, and Wolfgang’s dilemma will speak to readers of any age trying to navigate clashes between joy and ambition.

Wolfgang in the Meadow is full of heart and humor, and Wolfgang’s dilemma will speak to readers of any age trying to navigate clashes between joy and ambition.
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When three distinguished visitors crash their “car”—which is definitely not a spaceship—and knock on Mr. Li’s door to ask for help, they’re disappointed that he doesn’t have the parts they need to repair their vehicle. Dejected, they start to walk away, but Mr. Li kindly offers them a place to sleep and to take them shopping for parts the next day.

The customers at the general store are also fascinated by Mr. Li’s blue-skinned guests, and offer to help them fix their oddly shaped car. Though the travelers don’t understand local customs, like parties or music, the help of their new friends might get these “definitely human” visitors back to their home.

Which, despite their claims, probably isn’t Europe.

Jon Klassen fans, rejoice: a new laugh-out-loud book can be added to the read-aloud rotation. X. Fang’s We Are Definitely Human is a delightful, humorous romp about human kindness towards strangers.

Fang, author of Dim Sum Palace, pleasantly subverts the text with illustrations that will leave kids giggling as Mrs. Li finds the guests sleeping on couches in all the wrong ways, serves breakfast only for one of the strangers to use their toast to clean their armpits, and listens as they explain their European identities and jobs like “making business” and “wearing hat.” The strong, striking shapes of the definitely human visitors, which Mr. Li finds “very hard to describe,” make for memorable character design.

This warm and giggle-worthy tale will please young readers—whether human or definitely human. Pair with Klassen’s The Rock from the Sky and Jess Hannigan’s Spider in the Well for a perfect storytime.

A new laugh-out-loud book can be added to the read-aloud rotation: X. Fang’s We Are Definitely Human is a delightful, humorous romp about human kindness towards strange visitors.

All is aflutter in the Wren family when Mr. and Mrs. Wren’s eggs hatch—except out of one egg comes a baby fairy! This is not the only peculiar thing: the baby fairy doesn’t have wings. The wrens name her Tiny Jenny and raise her with love. Unable to fly to find food like the other wren children, Tiny Jenny searches for things to eat in the brambles, and ends up causing plenty of mischief. When Tiny Jenny overhears her neighbors complaining to Mr. and Mrs. Wren—”Letting a fairy run riot in the woods. How could you?”—she runs away in search of other fairies like herself.

And find them, she does. Although the fairies smirk at Tiny Jenny’s lack of wings, the Fairy Queen agrees to grant Tiny Jenny her own wings if she can keep up with their parade.

In an unexpected twist, the fairies prove themselves to be much worse menaces than Tiny Jenny to the woodland creatures as they stomp and crash through the forest. The fairies don’t even look for food, they simply choose destruction! Suddenly, Tiny Jenny isn’t sure she wants to be a fairy at all. Luckily, the birds of the forest arrive just in time to remind her where she belongs.

Author-illustrator Briony May Smith, whose colorful mind brought us Margaret’s Unicorn and The Mermaid Moon, delivers a mischievous and spirited adventure in Tiny Jenny: Little Fairy, Big Trouble that will make readers laugh as they discover that things are not always what they seem. Smith uses muted browns and greens for the forest and bolder colors for flowers in lively illustrations that bring the story to life. The same bold colors are used on the fairies’ dresses, and Tiny Jenny’s clothes match the bluebells seen throughout the forest.

Readers of all ages will enjoy watching Tiny Jenny learn the difference between playfulness and truly bad behavior in this tale of embracing differences and finding your family.

 

Readers of all ages will enjoy watching Tiny Jenny learn the difference between playfulness and truly bad behavior in this tale of embracing differences and finding your family.

While the National Archives may be the nation’s official library, the New York Public Library is often first in the hearts of book lovers. Christopher Lincoln’s engaging, gorgeously illustrated graphic novel The Night Librarian is a shining addition to books that celebrate this iconic library.

“Magic builds in books,” declares the prologue, and we’re told the longer a book has been around, the more likely the characters get so bottled up “living the same scene over and over” that they must escape. Luckily for Turner and his twin sister, Page, there are librarians specially trained to handle these magical eruptions: night librarians.

Page and Turner are city kids who have a flaky nanny and absentee jet-setting parents. Allowed to go to the library on their own, they arrive one day with a bag containing their dad’s rare copy of Dracula, with the goal of researching the story of an ancestor who may have met author Bram Stoker at a 1901 reading. We get to see the twins using a microfilm reader, but they don’t find any mention of their relative. Instead, they discover an 1899 newspaper article with the foreboding headline, “Earthquake reported in the stacks.” On this same visit, their book bag starts making strange thumping noises—as if something is trying to get out.

The twins meet the stylish night librarian, Ms. Literati, who promises to research their copy of Dracula further. When they return the next afternoon, the book bag’s thumping intensifies, until something emerges from Dracula, and takes the book with it. Soon, there’s a whole string of literary escapees, including a dragon and the beanstalk from “Jack and the Beanstalk.” Time is of the essence to keep the entire library safe from the ensuing damage.

So the adventure begins, since clearly Ms. Literati needs dedicated volunteer help. Full of humor, friendship and just the right amount of danger and villainy, this beautifully designed novel has a clever time-travel plot twist and a satisfying emotional conclusion. As an added bonus, the many literary allusions are bound to delight adult readers as well, and may lead to further book adventures for curious readers.

 

Full of humor, friendship and just the right amount of danger and villainy, Christopher Lincoln’s beautifully designed The Night Librarian is bound to delight readers of all ages.
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Drew Beckmeyer’s The First Week of School is a game changer, an exceptionally creative back-to-school book that practically turns the genre on its head. It’s full of droll humor that will appeal to readers young and old. As the title suggests, it chronicles a first week inside an elementary school classroom, offering a bird’s-eye view of a variety of perspectives. In a clever, understated nod to the way people tend to pigeonhole both themselves and others, the students are given simple monikers such as the Artist, the Inventor and the Sports Kings, “who usually spend all Recess arguing about teams and never get to actually playing.” But at one point, readers learn that “The Artist is actually the fastest runner in the grade.” Beckmeyer even shares the perspective of Pat, the class’s pet bearded dragon; as well as the teacher (“the teacher gets her eighth cup of coffee before lunch”).

The plot thickens on Tuesday, when an alien called Nobody is beamed down from a spaceship, although everyone at school simply assumes this is the new student who was supposed to arrive next week. All sorts of unexpected, imaginative interactions occur: Nobody and Pat have a slumber party; the Inventor finds mysterious machine parts under his desk; Nobody takes an interest in the shy Artist’s drawings and even mounts an exhibition.

The First Week of School is a sophisticated picture book that packs an amazing punch, brimming with atmosphere and personality—and a wide range of activities, including a STEM lab, gym, show and tell, and recess. It overflows with wry comments, such as an escalating exchange about reading levels during storytime that ends with one student announcing, “I actually memorized this whole book. I read at a twentieth-grade level.”

Beckmeyer’s art style carries a childlike feel, adding authenticity to his narrative voice. Rendered in crayon, his many aerial perspectives take the reader from outer space and zoom in on the sun setting over the ocean and hilly terrain surrounding the school, then on the schoolyard and parking lot, eventually beaming readers—as well as the visiting alien—right into the classroom. In addition to being chock-full of pure entertainment, the diverse perspectives offered in The First Week of School remind readers of all ages that there are many ways to approach a classroom and the many unique, surprising personalities inside.

The First Week of School is a sophisticated picture book that packs an amazing punch, brimming with atmosphere and personality
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There’s no shortage of bedtime books, but authors and illustrators continue to surprise with their creativity and artwork. The Bedtime Boat may be joining a very full shelf, but its clever and useful take on night terrors is worthy of attention.

Little Chandan has a hard time sleeping—not because he doesn’t want to, but because it leads to his imagination running off, taking him on a journey that starts out fun, but quickly turns into a nightmare. Chandan’s mom, however, has a clever trick: She has Chandan concentrate on a toy boat, which helps him focus his breathing, calming him down and helping him drift off. Sital Gorasia Chapman maintains a steady pulse of rhyming, alliteration and repetition, which makes for good bedtime reading even amid Chandan’s terrors. When Chandan’s mother gently interrupts scary thoughts with her reminder to breathe, speaking in a cadence that feels like the waves she invokes, Chandan—and the reader—can’t help but be soothed.

The Bedtime Boat begins with a literal circus of colors, and one can almost hear the cacophony of rides and voices against cheerful carnival music, evoking what the inside of an active child’s mind might look like after a busy day. As Chandan and his mother head home, the circus gives way to the soft blues of a nighttime routine and, finally, bed. But sleep is interrupted by images from Chandan’s day, and his imagination takes over, pulling him into somewhat frightening dreams of whales and pirates, sharks and treasure. The bedtime boat itself links the real world and Chandan’s dream stories, bringing Chandan safely through these nightmares and back to his bed, where he sets an anchor. Anastasia Suvorova’s art is soft and hazy like a dream, but also intricate, and reality and dream weave together in a manner that reflects those final stages of dozing off. The Bedtime Boat is fanciful, artistic and beautiful—almost too visually appealing to send little ones off to sleep.

The book also gives practical advice—a rarity in this reviewer’s experience—providing back matter with instructions for creating your own paper bedtime boat  to help little ones feel a sense of control. For children who struggle with bedtime, and especially those who experience night terrors, The Bedtime Boat can help put feelings into words.

 

The Bedtime Boat is fanciful and beautiful, with art that is almost too visually appealing to send little ones off to sleep.

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