A young girl from the Dominican Republic relates the uplifting story of how she and her mother made a new life in Brooklyn in Starting Over in Sunset Park.

“My first trip in an airplane was from the Dominican Republic to New York City,” the narrator begins. Though she is homesick, she’s also awestruck by the beauty of New York, where she and her mother move in with her aunt and cousins. Eventually, they are able to find their own apartment, which the girl is excited about, though she still spends time reflecting on the home she left behind. In a moving spread, she remembers time spent with her abuela. Authors José Pelaez and Lynn McGee write the girl’s grandmother’s advice to her in Spanish, then translate it in a parenthetical, a technique they use throughout the book.

The girl struggles at school, where her English skills lag behind other students’, but she finds unexpected common ground with her teacher, who emigrated from Poland as a child. From that deeply felt experience, along with what she learns from her upstairs neighbor and a new job involving lots of cats, the girl gains confidence and begins to settle into her new home: “This strange new place began to feel a little magical.”

The unnamed girl’s first-person narration, one of the book’s strengths, is consistently authentic; she is vulnerable but tough, and her experiences reflect those faced by many immigrants to the United States. Illustrator Bianca Diaz’s bright, eye-catching palette radiates warmth with sunny yellows, brilliant reds and pinks, verdant greens and appealing blues and purples. A story full of vitality and compassion, Starting Over in Sunset Park will speak to all readers but will resonate most strongly with anyone who has ever made a home in a new country.

In a small town, near a playground, inside an abandoned mailbox, under a tree, there lives an extremely shy bunny named Willow. She leads a quiet, creative life in her little metal home; it’s a comfort zone tucked away from boisterous children and errant soccer balls. Sometimes she allows the tippy-tops of her extra-long ears to poke out of the mailbox slot, engaging with the world just a little bit.

One day, a surprise breaks Willow’s quiet solitude when a small blue envelope floats down into her comfort zone. Inside is a note addressed to the moon. A little boy wants to surprise his mom on her birthday. Will the moon shine extra brightly at midnight as a special treat for her?

Willow is charmed and decides she must deliver the note—and quickly, since midnight’s coming soon and the moon is very far away. She gathers her nerve and embarks on an amazing and suspenseful adventure. There’s mountain climbing, tree scaling and hitching a ride on a bird, plus tumbles and frights, too. Will Willow make it to the moon in time?

The deft and appealing visual storytelling in Shy Willow will ensure that shy and gregarious readers alike understand that Willow’s action-packed journey isn’t easy for her, but with its struggles come rewards. Shyness and courage can coexist, and it’s OK to have your own way of relating to the world. After all, friendships can be forged in a library just as easily as on a playground.

Author-illustrator Cat Min’s sweet characters and luminous artwork make Shy Willow a memorable and moving read. Her pastel-hued illustrations, composed in pencil and watercolor with a digital finish, are a lovely mix of realistic and fantastical. A warm pink glow throughout underlines the warmth of the characters’ kindness, as well as the book’s hopeful nature and its quiet, supportive heart.

Sunday has been feeling overworked and underappreciated, so she walks off the job, leaving the remaining days of the week wondering how they’ll fill her shoes. The auditions to find her replacement quickly descend into hilarious chaos as the proposed successors grow more far-fetched; even “UnicornsWithFlashlightsForHornsDay” gets an audience. Monday through Saturday are run ragged from evaluating potential days full of sweets, dogs, hats and superheroes, while in the background, a group of frustrated cats continues their campaign for “Caturday.” How will the days of the week ever find the perfect seventh day?

Bestselling author Brad Meltzer’s eclectic text is peppered with clever asides and loads of playful language as it bounces between narrative and dialogue, delivered energetically via speech bubbles. Pop culture and historical references run the gamut from Shark Week to Elbridge Gerry (James Madison’s vice president, for whom the practice of gerrymandering is named), sure to earn a laugh from readers of every age.

Caldecott Medalist Dan Santat (The Adventures of Beekle) illustrates A New Day with all the energy and bustle of a zany animated movie. Cheerful and colorful, every page is eye-catching, entertaining and full of enticing details. Saturday rocks a beige cardigan that recalls Jeff Bridges’ iconic Big Lebowski character, but its pattern is formed by knitted letter z’s. Children gobble boxes labelled “CAN-D” and “SHOOGR.” The anthropomorphized days are instantly recognizable characters with the appearances and personalities we’d expect from them. Monday has a tie and holds a clipboard; Thursday has a laid-back, almost-end-of-the-week smirk; and Friday wears a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts and flip-flops.

While A New Day begins like a rough day at the office and unwinds like a sugar-high explosion, it never loses its sense of purpose and teamwork. An enormously fun read with a heaping side of silliness, A New Day doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s an earnest reminder that, with a little creativity and thoughtfulness, we can make each day a day worth celebrating.

Freckle-faced Frankie McGee loves tractors, but his obsession finally tips his mother over the edge, sending her into a humorous meltdown at the public library in All of the Factors of Why I Love Tractors. Kids will get a kick out of this hilarious role reversal, especially when Mom is shown perched upside down in a chair, with her head on the floor and feet in the air. As Mom pleads with Frankie to branch out with his reading choices, he mounts an entertaining defense in rhyming prose that’s guaranteed to grab the attention of young vehicular enthusiasts.

His arguments unfold in a series of full-page spreads in which Davina Bell’s text and Jenny Lovlie’s art fall together like seeds in a newly planted field, brimming with possibility. Tractors fill a cascade of countryside scenes that show male and female drivers busy with different tasks that readers will enjoy identifying. Lovlie’s art strikes a perfect balance between healthy doses of technical detail (for instance, comparing Massey Fergusons with John Deeres) and a cornucopia of kid-friendly curves and colors.

Mom’s urgent protests are comical; with a talk-to-the-hand gesture, she turns away from her son’s lecture. Their good-natured give-and-take ramps up the tension delightfully. When Mom reminds Frankie that he used to like trains, he quips, “How boring—I’m snoring just thinking of that.” Meanwhile, readers will be energized by every colorful page, whether it’s a town scene that shows the path Frankie and Mom take to the library or a spread brimming with all sorts of things that go, including a hot air balloon, a tugboat and a cement mixer. 

At its heart, All of the Factors of Why I Love Tractors is a rollicking love letter not just to tractors but also to libraries, where books are waiting for people with many different interests. The kind librarian, Miss Squid, tells Frankie’s mom to “Hush!” while reassuring Frankie, “Well you know yourself best. / When you want something different, just come and find me. / A kid who likes books is a nice thing to see.” 

My First Day is a captivating story that depicts one child’s journey to school.

“Today is the first day.” A young Vietnamese boy, his backpack resting snugly on his shoulders, heads out. Mama told him he’s finally big enough to do this alone. Paddling where “the great river, mother Mekong, tumbles into the endless sea,” the boy cuts a striking figure as he stands resolutely in his boat while tall, foam-crested waves in rich shades of green and cyan swell around him.

The book’s language is both plain-spoken (“I set out upon the waves and begin my adventure”) and evocative (“I paddle out into the floodwaters, past yesterdays and all the things I didn’t know”). Author-illustrators Phùng Nguyên Quang and Huỳnh Kim Liên draw seamless parallels between the boy’s travels and the first day of school that awaits him: “There is still a world to learn,” he says as he first leaves home. Later, he likens his journey to the “unfamiliar hallways of the forest” and refers to the “blackboard” of the river.

With resilience, the boy endures rough waters, rain, crocodiles and pythons—some real, some imaginary. These darker spreads, filled with menacing, beguiling shadows, eventually make way for exquisite, light-filled pages. Coral-hued rays of sunlight break through clouds, and the sky fills with brilliant colors and “a dance of storks and new worlds.” In one thrilling spread, Quang and Liên provide an underwater perspective: The boy floats on the surface as we look up at him alongside schools of fish who move gracefully through the water.

Fluid, energetic lines, compelling page turns and a forward momentum as the boy steadfastly paddles through the water make My First Day a particularly propulsive, cinematic story. Readers everywhere who know the thrill of the first day of school will delight to see other children arriving in their respective boats at the book’s close, though they may be sad to see the boy’s adventure end. The book’s back matter includes a note reminding readers that children go to school in many different ways and that some children are “even heroes on their journeys!

While some books light paths with their words, other books don’t need words to shine. Gideon Sterer and and Mariachiara Di Giorgio’s The Midnight Fair may be a wordless picture book, but its story is clear, compelling and utterly enchanting.

When trucks and trailers arrive at an open field, forest animals watch their home transform into a lively carnival, complete with roller coasters, games and throngs of people. But when the crowds leave for the night, the carnival truly comes to life. Raccoons and bears ride the roller coaster, their arms in the air as it rockets down the track. A deer exchanges a sprig of berries for French fries at the concession stand. A fox plays the ring-toss game (run by a deer) and wins a goldfish in a plastic bag for a prize. The animals crash bumper cars and wave to one another as they whirl by on the carousel.

Through clever use of framing and perspective, Sterer and Di Giorgio invite readers to be a part of each moment. We watch from above as furry friends spin in teacups below. We’re behind the counter as an earnest baby bear pushes his acorns toward us to buy a tantalizing pink and white ice cream cone. When dawn arrives, the animals vanish into the forest; the entire evening might have been a dream if not for the nuts and twigs bursting from every cash bucket as the watchman makes his morning rounds.

Despite all the merriment, The Midnight Fair is much more than a cute story about animals having fun. It’s entertaining and clever, but it never devolves into flippancy or silliness. Unhampered by the solidity and clarity of text, it maintains an ethereal aura of mystery and a sense of quiet dignity not often found in picture books with anthropomorphic animal protagonists.

Every inch of illustrator Di Giorgio’s art is captivating, from a scene in which the silhouetted creatures’ eyes glow in the dusk as they emerge from the woods to a poignant moment by the lake near the story’s end. But when the carnival lights come on, her illustrations become truly spellbinding. Gleaming and golden, The Midnight Fair radiates magic. It’s truly exceptional.