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Reha, an Indian American girl, narrates Rajani LaRocca’s Red, White, and Whole in first-person free verse as she navigates what she describes as “two lives. / One that is Indian, / one that is not.”

It’s 1983 and Reha, an only child, is in middle school. The differences between her two cultures—the American culture she experiences at school and the Indian culture that surrounds her at home—make her feel like she’s being pulled in opposite directions with more force than ever. But Reha adores her parents and doesn’t want to disappoint them. She studies hard and tries not to complain about feeling different. She intends to be a doctor when she grows up, even though she is afraid of blood.

When her mother, Amma, gets sick with leukemia, Reha begins to feel guilty about her secret desire to not be so different from her classmates. She bargains with God and tries to be perfect so that her mother will get better.

The poems in Red, White, and Whole are vibrant and lyrical, clear and smooth. In her first novel in verse, LaRocca (Midsummer’s Mayhem) showcases the best of what verse can do, telling a story that is spare, direct and true, every word and idea placed with intentional care. Reha’s narration shines with honest emotion, and its tenderness calls out to readers and invites them to feel what she feels at every turn.

LaRocca brilliantly incorporates references to 1980s American pop culture and traditional Indian culture. Despite how difficult it is for Reha to feel like she fully belongs anywhere, she is richer because of her access to multiple sources of wisdom and stronger because she has learned to navigate a variety of cultural norms. Reha’s friendship with Rachel, whose Jewish faith plays a similar role in her life, is a smart parallel.

Packed with evocative details of tween life in the ’80s, Red, White, and Whole is a sensitive coming-of-age story with all the makings of a new middle grade classic.

Reha, an Indian American girl, narrates Rajani LaRocca’s Red, White, and Whole in first-person free verse as she navigates what she describes as “two lives. / One that is Indian, / one that is not.”

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In the year 2091, millions of miles away from Earth, 11-year-old Bell and a handful of other kids are growing up on Mars. Sent there as orphaned infants, they have never known another life, another home or another family. Along with several adults, they make up the American settlement, where their days seem rather mundane, except for the fact that they live in outer space, complete with dust storms, flying meteorites, planetary rovers and algae-based food.

The settlement has very strict rules. Chief among them is, “No contact with foreign countries, ever.” Any contact with the Martian outposts from other countries is forbidden. But the red planet is a mysterious and desolate place, and, feeling isolated, the children are eager to explore. They’re never told why they can’t visit the other outposts, so they venture out and discover new challenges, but are soon discovered and reprimanded. Though they long to return to the other settlements for camaraderie, they are eventually forced to seek help when all the adults fall ill with a mysterious virus.

Holm peels back decades of secrets to expose previous relationships and disagreements between the Martian settlements while exploring the tension between independence and community. She returns often to the metaphor of a lion’s pride, which Bell discovers in a book early on in the story. In a dangerous environment, lions and perhaps humans, too, must provide and rely on communal support to survive.

Written before the COVID-19 pandemic, the isolated setting and threat of unknown illness sometimes cause The Lion of Mars to feel eerily contemporary and timely. Three-time Newbery Honor author Jennifer Holm is known for her stories of family and relationships, but this is her first venture into science fiction. Although she constructs a lived-in vision of life on a Martian outpost that will please sci-fi fans, the story she tells remains rooted in the outpost’s ad-hoc family and anchored by Bell’s down-to-Earth narrative voice.

The Lion of Mars looks past the red dust to reveal how our communities shape us just as much as our environments.

In the year 2091, millions of miles away from Earth, 11-year-old Bell and a handful of other kids are growing up on Mars. Sent there as orphaned infants, they have never known another life, another home or another family. Along with several adults, they make up the American settlement, where their days seem rather mundane, except for the fact that they live in outer space, complete with dust storms, flying meteorites, planetary rovers and algae-based food.

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To kill the beloved protagonist of a previous book in the opening pages of a companion novel and make that death the new book’s premise would be the act of a truly brave, bold children’s author. Yet that’s exactly what Gary D. Schmidt does in Just Like That, but trust me, Schmidt knows exactly what he’s doing.

Set in 1968, Just Like That is part of an outstanding series that began with Newbery Honor recipient The Wednesday Wars and continued in Okay for Now, a finalist for the National Book Award. In structure, the books are reminiscent of Kate DiCamillo’s Raymie Nightingale trilogy. While each book can be read separately, overlapping characters and themes enrich each other in understated and often profound ways.

The series' well-deserved legions of fans will experience the gut punch of grief that engulfs Meryl Lee Kowalski, who loses her best friend and feels as though “everything in the world, absolutely everything in the world, has become a Blank.” Unable to face life at home in Hicksville, New York, she heads to the coast of Maine to begin eighth grade at a private boarding school, the prestigious St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy. In the meantime, a boy named Matt Coffin is alone and on the run from a violent past, reeling from the murder of his best friend. He slowly builds a friendship and then a budding romance with Meryl Lee, as both young teens wrestle with grief and try to find their place in the world.

Schmidt is a master at slowly creating wonderful relationships, often turning foes into friends in unexpected but believable ways. Meryl Lee initially feels lost among St. Elene’s grand, staid grounds and ultra-rich, snobby girls, but a group of students gradually allow their own strengths and friendships to emerge and blossom. St. Elene’s is run by a kind, wise leader, Dr. Nora MacKnockater, who takes both Meryl Lee and Matt under her wing.

Throughout all three books of these books, Schmidt reveals his genius for turning literary references into organic parts of his plots. In this case, Meryl Lee reads The Wizard of Oz as she and Matt try to find their way “home,” which isn’t easy since her parents are divorcing. Matt will remind readers of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist as he is pursued by a dangerous Fagin-like character named Leonidas Shug, an ongoing tension that builds to a dramatic conclusion. Schmidt incorporates current events into all three books, particularly the horrors of the Vietnam War, and Just Like That also features a hilarious and plot-pivotal appearance by none other than Spiro Agnew.

Just Like That takes place in Harpswell, Maine, where the writer Elizabeth Strout spent part of her childhood. Like Strout, Schmidt creates small worlds that contain the full piercing range of human nature and emotions, and he captures comedy and tragedy equally well. He writes gently but realistically about subjects including domestic violence, illness, death and grief, but his pages are also always filled with hope.

As Dr. MacKnockater tells Meryl Lee, “The world can be such an ugly place. It takes a special person, a truly accomplished person, to make it a beautiful place.” Just Like That is a riveting, award-worthy novel from a truly accomplished writer. Don’t miss it.

Set in 1968, Just Like That is part of an outstanding series that began with Newbery Honor recipient The Wednesday Wars and continued in Okay for Now, a finalist for the National Book Award. In structure, the books are reminiscent of Kate DiCamillo’s Raymie Nightingale trilogy. While each book can be read separately, overlapping characters and themes enrich each other in understated and often profound ways.

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LeUyen Pham’s Outside, Inside addresses the subject of the COVID-19 pandemic for young readers with sensitivity and compassion.

“Something strange happened on an unremarkable day just before the season changed,” Pham’s narration begins. “Everybody who was outside . . . went inside.” The book’s first spread shows a bustling street filled with people going about their daily life. Two people walk dogs; a man rides a bicycle and a child rides a scooter; children greet each other on the stoop of a building; people carry bags of groceries. We see the same street on the next spread, but now it’s empty—save for a girl’s cat, who will serve as our guide throughout the book. The girl, who anchors the story, looks hesitantly out the window at the absence of neighbors on the street.

After emphasizing that this migration from outside to inside was something that happened all around the world, Pham pays tribute to the medical personnel and essential workers to whom the book is dedicated in two striking spreads. Detailed vignettes in a more restrained and muted color palette depict sobering and honest scenes of sadness, struggle, solitude and grief. Next, we peer into indoor lives, as Pham show us an out-of-work family opening bills at the kitchen table with expressions of dismay and a child grown weary of virtual learning. Throughout, however, she also shows us scenes of kinship, community and camaraderie. Families work, play and bake together; medical staff bring a birthday cake to a woman in a hospital bed. Highlighting another meaning of “inside,” Pham reminds us how “we were all changing a tiny bit inside.”

The book briefly addresses the reason for our indoor migration—“because everyone knew it was the right thing to do.” Pham doesn’t sugarcoat the impact that the pandemic has had on our lives, but COVID-19 also isn’t explicitly mentioned until a detailed and moving closing author’s note. Most children will have heard enough about the virus that laying it out explicitly in the text is unnecessary. Eagle-eyed readers, however, will notice the phrase “COVID 19” on a doctor’s whiteboard.

Pham (There's No Such Thing as Little) narrates Outside, Inside in the past tense, perhaps as a reminder that even this pandemic, too, shall pass. A brightly colored double gatefold imagines the day in the future when we’ll all be outdoors and near one another again. In the meantime, this deeply felt book will make waiting for that day a little bit easier to bear.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Author-illustrator LeUyen Pham goes behind the scenes of Outside, Inside.

LeUyen Pham’s Outside, Inside addresses the subject of the COVID-19 pandemic for young readers with sensitivity and compassion.

A young girl stays in touch with her beloved grandmother, Popo, when her family moves to the United States from Taiwan in this exuberant picture book. Inspired by author Livia Blackburne’s personal experience of emigrating from Taiwan when she was 5 years old, the book also features the work of Taiwanese American illustrator Julia Kuo.

In plainspoken yet evocative first-person narration, the girl recalls her favorite memories of her grandmother, beginning from her babyhood: “I dream with Popo as she walks me in her arms.” Readers see the growing girl and Popo walking in the park, celebrating the new year with special foods and looking at a globe to find San Diego, where the girl moves with her parents. Even though they are apart, Popo remains part of the girl’s life as the two connect online, which is cleverly shown in a fun double-page spread of each person's screen, complete with the small reverse-camera image in the upper right-hand corner.

Kuo’s colors are bright and vibrant, while subtle details effectively capture the differences of daily life in the U.S. and Taiwan. Readers see Chinese characters on a wall calendar and the skyline of Taipei in the backdrop of the park. During their online video call, the protagonist eats a bowl of cereal for breakfast while Popo uses chopsticks to eat her dinner of noodles. In her new home, the young girl gradually adjusts and makes new friends, “kids with hair of every color and skin of every shade.”

Another clever spread shows two sheets of drawings the girl makes at school; she illustrates pictures of the English words she is learning alongside the Chinese characters. As she becomes more familiar with English, she begins to lose some of her first language, and its words become “hard to catch, like fish in a deep well.” But when they return to Taiwan for a visit, her mom reassures her that she can still hug Popo “as tight as before.”

I Dream of Popo balances the bittersweet experience of being separated from family with an affirmation of the enduring bond between grandmother and granddaughter. Its backmatter, which includes reflections and family photos from both the illustrator and author, adds context and depth to its depiction of the contemporary immigrant experience. This is a lyrical and heartfelt tribute to the power of love across geography and generations.

A young girl stays in touch with her beloved grandmother, Popo, when her family moves to the United States from Taiwan in this exuberant picture book.

Author Joanna Ho and illustrator Dung Ho’s Eyes That Kiss in the Corners is a joyful, tender exploration of family and diversity.

The book's narrator, a young girl, begins by describing how her eyes look different from her friends’ eyes. Her friends have “big eyes” with “lashes like lace trim on ballgowns.” But her own eyes “glow like warm tea” and “kiss in the corners.”

The girl reflects on what her eyes have in common with her family’s eyes. As she plays with her mother one day, the girl sees that her mother’s eyes “crinkle into crescent moons” when she smiles. She notices that her eyes have the same sparkle as her grandmother’s and little sister’s eyes.

Throughout Eyes That Kiss in the Corners, which is Joanna Ho's first picture book, she explores themes of family and tradition to construct an intimate portrait of a young girl’s growing sense of herself. The girl draws strength from her connections to the other women in her family—connections she clearly cherishes. Guided by these strong, loving women, the girl comes to realize her place in the continuum of both her family and her culture.

In addition to capturing the touching warmth of the girl’s relationships with her family, Ho uses vivid imagery, repetition and poetic phrasing to make Eyes That Kiss in the Corners truly delightful to read aloud. The girl’s lashes “curve like the swords of warriors,” while her little sister has a “two-tooth smile.” There’s a wonderful sense of intentionality to Ho’s writing, and her rhythm builds to a stirring climax in which the girl declares that her eyes “are a revolution.”

Artist Dung Ho draws on motifs from the natural world to bring scenes from the girl’s life and imagination to the page. Every spread bursts with flowers, butterflies and birds in riotous shades of yellow, orange, pink and green. The girl’s grandmother’s stories of traditions and legends have a dreamier quality as Ho employs swirls and soft spirals of misty blue. These evocative illustrations reinforce the sense of connection to family and culture, depicting how one generation speaks volumes to the next.

In the hands of less talented creators, Eyes That Kiss in the Corners would be a simple exploration of how physical differences make us all unique or special. But Joanna Ho’s powerful language and Dung Ho’s dazzling illustrations have instead created a celebration of family and heritage that’s both luminous and revelatory.

Author Joanna Ho and illustrator Dung Ho’s Eyes That Kiss in the Corners is a joyful, tender exploration of family and diversity.

Author Colleen AF Venable and illustrator Stephanie Yue, who previously collaborated on the Guinea Pig Pet Shop Private Eye series, reunite for Katie the Catsitter. This empathetic and exciting superhero series opener is sure to be adored by readers who can’t get enough adventure stories, mysterious goings-on, coming-of-age tales or cats. Many, many, many cats.

The story opens as Katie is lamenting the start of the most boring summer ever, because her BFF Bethany is headed to a pricey sleep-away camp. Then inspiration strikes. Katie hangs a poster in her apartment building hallway advertising odd-job services to her neighbors, in hopes of earning enough money to join Bethany for a week.

After killing plants she was hired to water and dropping groceries she was hired to carry up the stairs, Katie begins to feel desperate. Even worse, Bethany is sending fewer postcards than usual. Could their friendship be waning? Katie is shocked out of her glumness when her mysterious neighbor Ms. Lang makes an offer that seems almost too good to be true: Might Katie want to catsit for $30 an hour?

Katie’s thrilled, but she soon realizes the gig entails dealing with a lot more than hairball hurking and furniture scratching. Although her 217 (yes, 217) charges are definitely cute and cuddly, they’re also wild and wily, with decidedly un-feline talents ranging from computer hacking to coordinated thievery to costume design. And, Katie muses, isn’t it strange that every time the friendly and kind Ms. Lang needs her to catsit, the supervillain Mousetress wreaks havoc on the city?

Yue’s warm and hilarious artwork winningly captures the furry whirlwind that is Ms. Lang’s apartment, as well as the emotions that cross Katie’s face as she contemplates losing a friend and making new ones, not to mention her own growing self-confidence. Yue’s renderings of settings ranging from sharp-edged city skylines to a wacky wax museum to a dramatic night-cloaked forest are downright clever, too.

Katie the Catsitter takes readers to all these places and more. Venable’s twisty plot swoops gleefully around Manhattan, touching on everything from animal activism to evolving relationships to a secret rescue mission, and combining to tell the story of one of the least boring summers ever—while dropping tantalizing hints at thrilling seasons to come. The book’s charming back matter includes a delightful illustrated list of all 217 extraordinary cats. Meow!

Author Colleen AF Venable and illustrator Stephanie Yue, who previously collaborated on the Guinea Pig Pet Shop Private Eye series, reunite for Katie the Catsitter. This empathetic and exciting superhero series opener is sure to be adored by readers who can’t get enough adventure stories, mysterious goings-on, coming-of-age tales or cats. Many, many, many cats.

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Though debut author Eden Royce currently lives in the United Kingdom, it’s clear she is still deeply rooted in the culture of the Gullah nation to which she belongs. Royce’s previous short stories were informed by the traditions of these descendants of enslaved people living along the coast of Georgia and the Carolinas, and her first middle grade novel is also set in this evocative milieu.

Root Magic finds the South, as well as its main characters, twins Jezebel and Jay, on the verge of some big changes. Their beloved grandmother has just died, and they’re about to turn 11. Their grandmother was a practitioner of what’s known as root magic, a rich and complex set of spells and charms passed down through generations, and it’s the twins’ turn to begin learning from their uncle Doc the knowledge that has been such a source of strength for their family.

Recently, however, root magic has also been a source of stress. An increasingly aggressive police officer has been cracking down on its practitioners, and the new girls at school mock Jezebel for her family’s practices. What’s more, Jezebel and Jay are in different grades for the first time, and Jezebel fears they’re starting to grow apart. And then there are the mysterious voices she hears calling her by the river . . .

Royce’s storytelling is atmospheric and more than a little spooky, filled with haints and boo-hags, protection charms and curses. But the novel is also set during a specific historical period—the fall of 1963—and so these supernatural elements play out against an equally vivid backdrop of real historical events, including the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, police intimidation tactics and the integration of Charleston schools.

Root Magic successfully blends mystical elements with historical ones for a novel that explores Gullah culture as well as the social upheavals of the 1960s. Readers who are easily frightened might want to read with the lights on—but if they do, they’ll discover a thoughtful story about a family taking on all obstacles, seen and unseen, together.

Root Magic finds the South, as well as its main characters, twins Jezebel and Jay, on the verge of some big changes. Their beloved grandmother has just died, and they’re about to turn 11.

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Claude and Manman usually walk Papa to the tap tap stop, where Claude sees people from his Haitian community boarding the bus on their way to the beach. The bus’s bright colors always catch Claude’s eye, but he has school and chores, and Manman says he can’t ride the tap tap.

Every day, Claude’s desire to ride the vehicle grows. He sees a woman carrying mangoes and dreams of mangoes; he sees a fisherman and fantasizes about “reeling in a jumbo fish”; he sees a woman carrying straw on her head and hopes one day he can weave a hat for Manman; and when he sees a painter heading to the beach, he longs to paint a picture of his own tap tap. Then one day after church, Claude’s dreams come true when Papa and Manman surprise him with a trip on the tap tap to the beachfront.

Author Danielle Joseph incorporates Haitian Creole words throughout I Want to Ride the Tap Tap, a joyous tale of everyday life in Haiti. Her ear for dialogue is particularly strong. “Bon bagay!” Claude often exclaims. The story provides context clues as to its meaning, though a glossary provides a specific translation (“This is good stuff!”). The days of the week, also written in Haitian Creole, provide the story with a satisfying structure.

Debut illustrator Olivier Ganthier’s images pop with vivid colors, especially in the exuberant closing spreads in which Claude has made it to the shore and finally has the chance to do all the things he dreamed of. These scenes have a palpable energy as they portray Claude’s jubilant Haitian community. Children everywhere know what it’s like to experience a day like this, when the week’s work is done and you can simply spend a day with the family you love.

Claude and Manman usually walk Papa to the tap tap stop, where Claude sees people from his Haitian community boarding the bus on their way to the beach. The bus’s bright colors always catch Claude’s eye, but he has school and chores, and Manman says he can’t ride the tap tap.

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Maisie Cannon may only be 12 years old, but she’s already found her passion in life: ballet. She’s bored by the daily monotony of school because she knows that the only lessons that will impact her future are the ones she gets at the dance studio, where she finds sanctuary amid the barres and music.

So when Maisie suffers a life-changing knee injury and must quit ballet and attend physical therapy for months in order to recover, it affects her more deeply than she or her parents anticipated. Cut off from the sheer joy of dance as well as the friends with whom she shares her passion, Maisie sinks into depression and isolation. A family trip back to her roots in the Native American Makah community may be her best chance to find a new way forward.

Christine Day’s second novel, The Sea in Winter is unflinching in its portrayal of Maisie’s depression and the effect it has on her relationships with her family and friends. Day conveys Maisie’s feelings of despair and hopelessness with gravity and sensitivity, treating her young protagonist’s emotions with the respect they deserve. Sharing Maisie’s story would be an excellent way to open a dialogue between young readers and adults about mental health.

Day’s depiction of Maisie’s deepening understanding of her family’s Native American identity and heritage is just as well done. Scenes in which Maisie’s mother and stepfather share stories of family and tribal heritage are sure to prompt young readers to learn more about their own family stories.

The Sea in Winter is a refreshing and moving story of grief and healing from one of middle grade’s brightest rising stars.

Maisie Cannon may only be 12 years old, but she’s already found her passion in life: ballet. She’s bored by the daily monotony of school because she knows that the only lessons that will impact her future are the ones she gets at the dance studio, where she finds sanctuary amid the barres and music.

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Bear is a heck of a dancer, but because of his enormous size, the other woodland creatures think he’s mean and scary. Fortunately for Bear, his friend Coco, a tiny girl with brown skin whose curly hair peeks out from beneath her bright red hat, understands that this is just a bunch of “noodle strudel.” She knows how gentle, brave and kind Bear is—and she has an idea about how to show the rest of the forest, too. Together, the two embark on a journey through the wintry woods to follow words of wisdom from Coco’s grandmother, which she stitched into an embroidery hoop: “When life gets dark as winter’s night, share some kindness. Bring some light.”

To show kindness, Bear bakes cookies; to bring light, Coco makes lanterns. They traverse the forest and offer these gifts to Badger, Rabbit, Hedgehog and Skunk, but each time, the offering from the unwelcome bear(er) is shunned. It isn’t until the other animals witness Bear commit an act of unsolicited assistance that everyone realizes true kindness isn’t rooted in giving and receiving things. It’s about spreading love without expecting to receive anything in return.

These themes of kindness and welcoming those who are different aren’t particularly original, nor is the narrative element of sentient woodland creatures, but debut author-illustrator Apryl Stott’s talented execution offers a powerful reminder of why these motifs continue to endure in children’s literature. The friendship between Coco and Bear is downright delightful, and two brief moments in which little Coco offers comfort and reassurance to mighty Bear are especially moving.

Stott’s illustrations are warm and self-assured, and her visual storytelling feels like the work of a veteran. Coco’s grandmother’s embroidery hoop is echoed throughout the story via scenes set within circular frames. Stott depicts grumpy Badger in a frame of nettles, and when Coco leaps off the path into a waist-deep snowbank, the frame around her drips with icicles. Young readers will delight at all the imaginative details Stott packs into her images. In particular, a wordless double spread that reveals the interior of Bear’s den as he bakes cookies is one to linger over.

It’s impossible to resist the bighearted appeal of Share Some Kindness, Bring Some Light, a satisfying and accomplished debut picture book.

Together, Bear and Coco embark on a journey through the wintry woods to follow words of wisdom from Coco’s grandmother: “When life gets dark as winter’s night, share some kindness. Bring some light.”

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Settle in for a wintry journey in A Long Road on a Short Day, and join Samuel Hallett and his father as they set out to procure a dairy cow for Samuel’s mother on a blustery January day. This illustrated chapter book’s timeless feel makes it a wonderful choice for a cozy read-aloud.

Mindful of the coming snowstorm, Samuel’s father briskly tells his son to “Keep up” and adds, “It’s a long road on a short day.” Mr. Hallett plans to barter for the cow, and begins by offering his “best Barlow knife” to a neighboring farmer. As the day progresses, the weather becomes increasingly cold and snowy, and the titular phrase becomes a delightful refrain shared between father and son.

Unfolding in short chapters devoted to each new person with whom the Halletts strike a trade, A Long Road on a Short Day is exquisitely written by co-authors Gary D. Schmidt, a two-time Newbery Honor author and National Book Award finalist, and Elizabeth Stickney, a pseudonym for Schmidt’s late wife. The duo previously collaborated on Almost Time, a picture book about another father-son relationship. That bond is central here as well, as Samuel’s father involves his son in their mission and expresses pride after Samuel makes a difficult decision. The plot is brisk and perfectly paced, and Samuel’s spirit shines through in moments when he meets animals, including a dog and a new litter of kittens, and wishes that “it wasn’t a brown-eyed cow his mother was wanting.”

Young readers will be fascinated by the trades the Hallets make with their neighbors, which range from a book of poetry, a gold pocket watch and even a pony and cart. The traders themselves, including a wealthy widow and a doctor who has just delivered a baby, leave strong impressions despite the relatively short interactions they have with the Hallets. Eugene Yelchin’s illustrations give the book a firm anchor, warmly conveying the old-fashioned setting, while the text offers a handful of historical references, such as roads being “rolled” for the snow.

A Long Road on a Short Day offers a memorable father-son journey as well as an enthralling glimpse into the past.

Settle in for a wintry journey in A Long Road on a Short Day, and join Samuel Hallett and his father as they set out to procure a dairy cow for Samuel’s mother on a blustery January day. This illustrated chapter book’s timeless feel makes it a wonderful choice for a cozy read-aloud.

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This reflective, observant book follows a family of four through a calendar year of small moments with a playful, spirited young girl serving as our guide.

Author Cheryl B. Klein keeps the text simple, using short, unpunctuated phrases—“First valentine / First cold / First crush”— while illustrator Qin Leng’s charming images capture the emotional ups and downs of childhood. Much of the book is composed of little vignettes that expertly pace the action. The “first crush” begins at the “first cold,” when our protagonist sneezes and a classmate kindly hands her a box of tissues. With crisp colors and fine lines, Leng delightfully extends Klein’s spare text.

Klein occasionally varies the rhythm of her phrasing for wry comedic effect. There’s a first new umbrella, then a first lost umbrella, followed later by a second occurrence of each. There’s a second crush, repeated fights with the girl’s brother (“Two hundred twenty-sixth fight with your brother”) and, as winter returns, second and even third snowfalls. As the year winds down, Klein seamlessly and subtly slides into marking “last” instances, rather than “first.” For example, waffles that were “first” in January are now the “last waffles” of snowy December.

The book is especially joyful when depicting the year’s seasonal gifts—the first “green in the gray” of spring, the first beach trip of summer, the first “gold in the green” of fall and, as the year comes full circle, the first silent night of winter. A Year of Everyday Wonders is a truly wonderful, wonder-filled picture book, perfect for revisiting in every season of the year.

This reflective, observant book follows a family of four through a calendar year of small moments with a playful, spirited young girl serving as our guide.

Author Cheryl B. Klein keeps the text simple, using short, unpunctuated phrases—“First valentine / First cold / First crush”—…

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