A young immigrant adjusts to life in America in Thrity Umrigar’s evocatively titled Sugar in Milk. “When I first came to this country, I felt so alone,” the young girl reveals. Though she lives with her Auntie and Uncle, she struggles with loneliness and misses her family and friends back home. Recognizing her niece’s sadness and isolation, her Auntie takes her for a walk and shares a story with the girl:

Once upon a time, some Persian refugees made their way to India but were turned away by the king. Then a brave man dissolved some sugar into a very full glass of milk, creating a visual metaphor to convey how the refugees would “sweeten your lives with our presence” and successfully establishing peace between the refugees and the king. Hearing this story becomes a turning point for the girl, and she begins to appreciate her “new and magical homeland.”

Illustrator Thao Le’s palette incorporates captivating cool tones of teal, copper and crimson as well as rich, beguiling blues. Elaborate borders set off the spreads depicting Auntie’s story and become increasingly detailed with each page turn, marking her ancient tale as separate from the primary narrative and adding a sense of formality to its telling. The book’s opening and closing spreads—that is, before and after Auntie’s story—are a study in contrasts as the girl’s dull, solitary winter days vanish, replaced by spring sunshine and blooming flowers.

Sugar in Milk powerfully demonstrates how a simple story can radically alter one’s perspective for the better. It’s a timely exploration of timeless themes of acceptance and what it means to call a place home.

As this picture book love letter to Black children everywhere opens, a couple anticipates the birth of their child. “You were dreamed of,” reads author Tami Charles’ text, “like a knapsack full of wishes, carried on the backs of your ancestors.” Even the sky knows that this child’s life will matter, as we see a star shoot across the sky in the baby’s honor, a precursor of the celestial symbolism that fills the book. We follow these same parents, particularly the boy’s mother, as we read about the milestones in the child’s life—the baby’s first steps and words, as well as his first encounter with a book, one that mirrors the boy’s own skin color and “dreams.”

As the boy grows older, he begins to encounter and question racism, from microaggressions in his classroom to injustice and brutality he sees on the news. In one spread, he sits with his grandfather watching reports of widespread protests. But page after page depicts the boy being loved and supported by his family, and depicts his family reminding him of his self-worth.

Illustrator Bryan Collier incorporates proud Black faces into his remarkably textured collages and employs flower petals as a recurring motif. In a closing note, Collier writes that these petal shapes are influenced by his grandmother, a quilter who partly raised him. “Did you know that you are the earth?” reads a spread as a flower blooms behind the boy, Black faces from both past and the present looking out from vividly colored petals.

Charles weaves connections between Black children today and the ancestors who came before them. Boldly, beautifully and cosmologically, it also connects them to the very creation of the universe itself, driving home how strongly the “strength, power, and beauty” of their lives matter. All Because You Matter is a powerful, poetic manifesto that is required reading for every family in America.

The Barnabus Project is a heartwarming tale about accepting our differences and searching for freedom from the bestselling duo Terry and Eric Fan (The Night Gardner), who are joined on this project by their brother, Devin.

Barnabus, a tiny half-mouse, half-elephant hybrid, is a Failed Project in a world obsessed with Perfect Pets. He has only ever known the dark, underground world of the laboratory where he was created. As a Failed Project, his fate is to never leave the confines of his bell jar, but he dreams of making it to the world above and seeing for himself all the wonders that his friend, Pip the cockroach, has told him about. When word gets around the lab that all the Failed Projects are going to be recycled, Barnabus realizes that he may have to put his escape plan into action sooner than he thought.

The use of light in the illustrations lends an aura of hope to the story, even when little Barnabus and his friends find themselves in the darkest of situations, and the cool-toned color palette is soothing and just the right amount of eerie. Barnabus, though considered a “failed project” within the world of his story, is in fact undeniably adorable, ranking approximately at the level of Baby Yoda on the cuteness scale, and the other Failed Projects in his lab are just as cute.

Barnabus is a miniature hero with a big heart and a whole lot of courage. The story’s exploration of his longing to be free paired with the book’s always timely message of acceptance gives The Barnabus Project mass appeal and a timeless quality.

“I want to be everywhere Mama is,” says a girl as she heads down the stairs one morning in the house she shares with her parents, her brother and her dog, Max. Her love for her family is clear, but she is especially taken with Mama, who sings a good morning greeting, “bright as sun,” to her daughter.

The two spend the day entire together. They comb one another’s hair, take a walk outside, sing and splashing in puddles, read together at bedtime and more—but the book’s central focus is on the particularities of Mama’s world, the details that her daughter takes in over the course of the day. She lovingly catalogs items that belong to Mama, including a fragile, floral-patterned mug, a red toothbrush, an oatmeal bowl, a fuchsia hair barrette and a pair of tall, red boots, comparing them to her own possessions. In a deft touch, the items are featured on the book’s endpapers. When Mama reads to the girl and her brother at night, the girl even observes Mama’s shining teeth as she throws back her head to laugh. She’s deeply smitten, and it’s easy to see why.

Author-illustrator Cozbi A. Cabrera occasionally incorporates evocative figurative language into the girl’s narration as to describe their day. “The clouds outside are wearing shadows,” the girl declares before she and Mama leave for their walk. As they sing to the sky during their rainy stroll, Mama tells the girl that a song is “highs and lows.” At bedtime, a “sleepy sun” turns the sky pink before darkness settles in.

Cabrera brings a joyous Black family and their eloquent yet cozy home to vivid life in brightly colored, highly detailed acrylic illustrations. The book’s pace slows considerably toward the ending, as the girl falls asleep and recalls the day she and Mama spent together. One spread depicts merely darkness with rich shades of blue filling every inch of the spread; it’s a lovely moment in which Cabrera lets the story breathe.

Me & Mama is a picture book love letter that captures the extraordinary bond between a mother and daughter on a completely ordinary day.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Me & Mama's editor/publisher, Denene Millner, goes behind the scenes of the first season of her new imprint, Denene Millner Books.

Leo and his father love their home in an old blue house right next to a majestic fir tree. It’s a rickety, scrappy home with peeling paint, a mossy roof, “leaks and creaks” and a heater that frequently breaks. And that is just how they like it.

But the neighborhood around the blue house is changing, with nearby homes torn down to build modern apartments. When the landlord sells their blue house, Leo and his father must also move. Grief-stricken, they slowly acclimate to their new home by painting its interior; they even paint a picture of their beloved old blue house and its fir tree onto a bedroom wall. As they take their time unpacking their familiar belongings into their unfamiliar surroundings, their new house ever so slowly becomes more of a home.

Author and illustrator Phoebe Wahl uses every tool at her disposal to carefully construct the details of her indelible characters and their world. Leo’s hair hangs down nearly to his waist, while his father sports a bearded, scruffy look. When they want to vent their anger about being forced to move, they turn on music, stomping and raging as a team: “They shredded on guitar, and Leo did a special scream solo.” (This may go down as the most punk picture book of 2020.)

The blue house is cluttered but relaxed, filled with things Leo and his dad love, such as vinyl records, plants, art on the walls and a stereo with big speakers. Their delightfully unkempt yard includes a thriving vegetable garden, tall sunflowers, a trampoline and a clothesline. Rendered in watercolor, gouache, collage and colored pencil, Wahl’s illustrations are much like the old blue house itself—ramshackle and endearing, with nothing glossy about them. They are as worn-in, cozy and comfortable as the home Leo and his father leave behind and mourn.

Best of all, however, is Wahl’s depiction of the tender and loving relationship between father and son. In one image, as the two sit dejectedly on a mattress surrounded by unpacked boxes in their new home, Leo leans into his father for an embrace, resting his head in his father’s lap, the gesture speaking volumes while saying nothing at all.

The Blue House is an immensely satisfying picture book about a family acclimating to a big change.

In Abi Cushman’s delicious moody first picture book, Soaked, rarely has a dreary day been so delightful.

Sometimes when you’re in a funk, you just need to stay that way for a while; so it is with Bear. Channeling his inner Eeyore, Bear declares his feelings on the book’s very first page: “Look at all this rain. Everything is dreary. Everything is drenched. And no one is happy.” Pelted by rain and holding an ice cream cone that’s been destroyed by the storm, it’s easy to understand where he’s coming from.

Amid a dismal gray and cloudy landscape, Bear’s downcast eyes perfectly convey his sour temper, which is nicely counterposed by plops of pink from his melted ice cream. Bear’s determination not to be cheered up by his patient companions—a sneaky badger, a watchful bunny and a big-spirited, fun-loving, Hula-Hooping moose—is impressive. Anyone who’s ever had a bad day will find Bear’s gloomy mood relatable, and only a reader with a heart of stone could resist the appeal of the dispositional tug-of-war between Bear and Moose.

Cushman propels her story forward with minimal text; her images do most of the work through a pleasing combination of spots and full-page spreads. In one, Moose stands on his head, apparently oblivious to the rain, as Bear sits on a log nearby, wallowing in his misery and letting out a “Blahhhhh. . . .” that spans the entire spread, highlighting Bear’s ennui. Pops of color contrast against the book’s muted palette and enliven the action, especially when it comes to Moose’s multicolored, glow-in-the-dark Hula Hoops.

There’s verbal fun, too, as when Bear, having been sufficiently restored to good spirits by his friends’ efforts, jumps in a puddle and gleefully exclaims, “It’s so splishy and sploshy! Silly and soggy!” Of course, even when the rain stops and the sun starts to shine again, brooding Bear gets the perfect last words: “Blah. Too sunny.”