“Once we were part of Outside and Outside was part of us,” opens Outside In, a lyrical and sensory exploration of the artificial separation between indoors and outdoors from author Deborah Underwood (The Quiet Book) and illustrator Cindy Derby.

A girl sits in the back seat of a car that drives toward a house, and Underwood reminds us that often, even when we are outside, we are still inside. Yet the Outside uses light, insects, noise, weather, enticing smells and much more to nudge us and ask us to step out and explore.

For much of the book, the girl remains indoors, where she experiences how the natural world supports us even while we’re in our houses, providing us with berries to eat, cotton clothes to wear and wooden furniture to sit on. Underwood also points to the ways nature enters our homes, through faucets that run with water from rivers and streams, and through windows that mark our days with the rising and setting sun.

Cindy Derby’s wispy, delicate illustrations toy evocatively with light and shadow. Her atmospheric spreads are never cluttered, leaving lots of open room for young readers to imaginatively inhabit the girl’s world. In a spread about how the Outside “sends the sunset and shadows inside to play,” Derby paints the girl on the verso and her cat on the recto; between them lies abundant space for readers to rest their eyes, and for those enigmatic shadows to dance.

Outside In is a beguiling, thought-provoking book that thinks outside the box.

From once-green leaves turning brilliant hues each autumn to our own eventually graying hair, our brief time together is marked by constant change. Pausing to reflect on life’s transience may inspire sadness, but in Things That Go Away, author-illustrator Beatrice Alemagna reminds us that change isn’t always an occasion for sorrow. 


Things That Go Away uses simple, image-driven language and engaging artwork to explore its titular concept. Between each spread of Alemagna’s signature oil paintings is a sheet of sparsely illustrated onion paper. With each turn of this translucent paper, Alemagna reveals things that vanish or are transformed, from the relenting pounding of rain that gives way to sunshine to music that fills a room only to dissolve into silence.

While the loss of a friend may cut us to the quick, other changes in our lives can be welcome, even joyful. Among the many transitions Alemagna includes are acknowledgements of the sweet solace that comes at the end of a fear-filled night and the relief we experience when the dense fog of dark thoughts finally clears. Through illustrations of steam unfurling from a morning cup of coffee and soap bubbles blown into the wind that drift upwards beyond the reach of giggling children’s fingertips, Alemagna suggests that we might find everyday transformations wondrous, rather than mundane, if we would only take the time to stop and consider them.

In spread after spread, Alemagna meditates on the wide range of changes we face as we live our lives. If this were all Things That Go Away accomplished, it would be enough. But in its ending, the book achieves much, much more. In her book’s final moments, Alemagna pivots from reflecting on things that change to show us, instead, something that endures. In a world adrift in change, Alemagna seems to say, something must anchor us, and for her, that something is love.

Brook’s Mimi isn’t “just a grandmother,” she’s also “a grand friend” who weaves “words into everything.” The same could be said of The Keeper of Wild Words, Brooke Smith’s celebratory picture book that delivers an urgent plea to young readers. 

Brook hopes to find something interesting to bring to show and tell on the first day of school, but on this late summer day, Mimi also has an important mission. She takes Brook on a hike and asks her to be her Keeper of Wild Words, a protector of the words Mimi fears are disappearing. She gives Brook a piece of notebook paper with wildlife words such as drake, monarch, starling and wren. As they walk through woods, meadows and streams, Brook and Mimi marvel at the natural delights they find. “Do wild words dance like this every morning?” Brook wonders.

In an author’s note, Smith explains that her story was inspired by The Oxford Junior Dictionary’s removal of more than 100 entries to make room for words like database, MP3 player and vandalism. The resulting tale is an inspirational commemoration of such “lost” words. Its final page contains a built-in pouch for readers, along with an appeal: “You can be a keeper too. Your wild worlds will stay safe inside this envelope.”

Madeline Kloepper’s vivid illustrations are the perfect accompaniment to Smith’s rallying cry. Her pages are bright with red poppies, swooping starlings and beavers frolicking in a pond near a grassy shore. Readers will practically feel a puff of wind as Brook blows a cascade of dandelion seeds into the air, and they’ll hush to Mimi’s shushing as the pair passes a doe snoozing amid the ferns. Every spread is filled with wonder and warmth, not just for the natural world but also for the bond between grandmother and grandchild.

The Keeper of Wild Words is an irresistible invitation to a wild and wonderful linguistic crusade.

Paolo the dachshund wants to see every part of Rome, his busy, beautiful city. The crowds, the noises and the smells of Rome call to him like they do to the eager tourists. But there’s always a door and his owner’s foot blocking his way . . . until, one glorious day, there isn’t.

While it is impossible for Paolo to see all of Rome, author Mac Barnett and illustrator Claire Keane capture the city’s essence dazzlingly, from the Colosseum to Caravaggio, the Pantheon to the Pope’s Swiss Guard. Cultural references and clever historical nods (including Paolo’s wry and ironic triumph over a gang of cats in the very spot where Caesar died) give readers a true sense of place and past that’s both reverential and humorous.

Illustrator Claire Keane’s inspired images feel familiar and timeless; as they do in the great city itself, the old and new merge companionably in her spreads. Thick, bold strokes, like energetic sketches in an artist’s notebook, outline the streets, ruins and characters. Colors collide pleasantly over a background textured like a brick wall, giving the pictures a lush yet gritty appearance. Italian words and names impart authenticity, and Barnett’s remarkable and sophisticated narration enriches the narrative and readers alike.

For anyone who knows and loves Rome (and who could know Rome without loving it?), Paolo’s tale is a captivating love letter to the city and its adventurous spirit. And for those who’ve never been to the Eternal City, Paolo, Emperor of Rome is an enchanting introduction and an invitation to fall under its spell. Once you’ve visited, you’ll long to return.

Selina Alko (Why Am I Me?, Can I Touch Your Hair?) introduces readers to Roberta Joan Anderson “before the songs” in Joni: The Lyrical Life of Joni Mitchell, the first picture book biography of the folk music icon.

Living in a small town in Canada, young Joni felt like “an upside-down bird on a wire” in a family who didn’t share her creative ambitions. The book chronicles her bout with polio at age 10; her interest in painting and poetry; her discovery of music and songwriting in art school; her marriage to and subsequent divorce from folk singer Chuck Mitchell; and the launch of her career in Greenwich Village. Alko sketches brief stories of the inspirations behind several of Mitchell’s most beloved songs and albums, including “Big Yellow Taxi” and Blue. She also includes portraits of the handful of musical luminaries who were contemporaries to Mitchell—Bob Dylan, Mama Cass, Leonard Cohen and more.

The illustrations, rendered with acrylics, collage, found objects and even wildflowers, are busy with occasional skewed angles, but Alko always keeps Joni their focus. Vivacious colors swirl in melodies, music notes and lyrics that undulate across the pages in banner-like waves. A wing motif dominates with birds, butterflies and winged insects. The final spread notes that the truth Joni shared in her music gives us freedom, and “freedom gives us wings to fly”—here, Joni herself is painted in flight. The color blue dominates, perhaps a nod to Joni’s most iconic album.

Alko, who in the backmatter relates a personal anecdote of having first heard Joni’s music at age 9, shares Joni’s life story with affection and drive.

It’s hard for Daniel to leave his warm bed and cozy apartment, but without a babysitter, he must accompany his parents to their nighttime janitorial job. While they work, they make up stories, transforming the empty conference rooms, messy kitchen and echoing hallways into a magical realm. Welcome to The Paper Kingdom. 

Author Helena Ku Rhee writes from her own personal experience, having also gone with her parents to their night custodial jobs. Her narration rings with honesty as Daniel’s voice changes from sleepy and surly to curious but frustrated as he sees how hard his parents work to clean up the messes created by the office workers. 

Illustrator Pascal Campion expertly uses colors to build a sense of atmosphere on every page. Readers will feel the warm glow of a lamp, hear the squeaky shine of newly mopped floors and see the blur of the city through bleary eyes. The facial expressions of Daniel and his parents are simple but convey their emotions (especially their exhaustion) clearly and unmistakably. Campion’s digital brushstrokes vary from soft and vague to finely detailed. Plants become bold strokes of color, while bathroom-stall doors are sharp and precise. This variety—along with a few magical touches—brings readers into Daniel’s sleepy, dreamlike state and makes every page feel like a slightly hazy memory.

The Paper Kingdom salutes the sacrifices that parents make for their children and movingly acknowledges the work of those who toil while the city sleeps. It’s an affectionate tribute to the bonds of family and the unexpected memories we form when we perform seemingly mundane tasks together. It’s also an homage to the way imagination sometimes works when we are young, and how reality and the possibility of dragons can mingle.

Mimicking the classic cumulative nursery rhyme “This Is the House That Jack Built,” The Nest That Wren Built is the first picture book by author Randi Sonenshine. It tells the story of how Papa Wren constructs a nest for his growing family. After building the nest, Papa guards it while “chirping a mirthful song to the sky.” Once the eggs have been laid, he hunts for food. At 14 days old, the fledgling birds are ready to fly from their remarkably crafted home, high up in a tree. 

Sonenshine’s text is full of vivid, sensory images (“This is the moss, softer than suede”), and her seemingly simple narrative subtly works on multiple levels. The Nest That Wren Built may be a book about wrens, but it’s also about the patient, tender care that parents take when they provide for their offspring. Illustrator Anne Hunter (Possum and the Summer Storm, Cricket Song, Where’s Baby?) makes the warm, cozy nest the consistent focus of these illustrations, which are laid out on cream-colored pages. The ink and colored pencil illustrations appropriately feature a muted, earth-tone palette, and there’s a distinct sense that Hunter has constructed her drawings as carefully as Papa constructs his nest. Make sure to look closely to see Hunter’s crosshatching, which creates effective texture and shading. 

Nothing about the wrens and their work is anthropomorphized or made cute. Instead, Sonenshine’s bouncy text is filled with facts about how wrens construct nests. Young readers will enjoy spotting the other wild animals that pop up to watch the wrens, as well as the creature who repurposes the nest to serve as his own home at the close of this endearing and informative story.