The end pages of author and illustrator Andrea Tsurumi’s new picture book Crab Cake give readers a hint of the gratifyingly offbeat nature of this story: we see jellyfish, floating deep in the ocean, with cakes at their centers. We are then launched into a detailed undersea world that is “home to many incredible creatures.” We see manta ray, scallop, pufferfish, moray eel and many other aquatic animals, and Crab is busy making cakes. Tsurumi plays up the understated humor in expressive cartoon-like illustrations complete with speech balloons for dialogue. Quiet, studious Crab is especially entertaining, always with a cake at the ready. In one very funny spread, an open-mouthed shark follows a line of four fish, and the puzzled fish in the front is greeted with a cupcake baked by Crab.

The tone shifts dramatically, accompanied by a slowly darkening palette, when one evening there is a “BIG SPLASH!” A barge unloads a massive pile of trash into the water, and in one stark, dark and wordless spread, we see the pile of junk up-close. The confounded sea creatures freeze, but Crab bakes another cake, thereby jolting them out of their shock and into action. After all, theirs is an abundant, busy world under the surface of the water, and they’d like to keep it that way. Working together, they lug the trash back up to a boat dock next to a sign that reads, “COME GET YOUR JUNK!” Cue the befuddled humans.

Crab Cake’s environmental message, though never heavy-handed, comes across loud and clear in this altogether entertaining and informative story of a community that bands together to make a difference.

Julie Danielson conducts interviews and features of authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

What Is Given from the Heart is a fitting title for the last picture book written by Patricia C. McKissack, who passed away in 2017. Along with her husband, Fred, McKissack helped to shine a light not only on African American history, but on the ties that bind families and communities together. McKissack’s award-winning books include Mirandy and Brother Wind, a Caldecott Honor- and Coretta Scott King Award-winning novel, and The Dark-Thirty: Southern Tales of the Supernatural, also a Coretta Scott King and Newbery Honor winner.

Generosity of spirit defined McKissack as a writer and a person. And that compassion shines through in this picture book about a widow and her young son, James Otis, who are struggling to survive. When Reverend Dennis announces that 7-year-old Sarah and her mother have lost everything in a fire, James Otis struggles with his mother’s request that he can find “a li’l bit of something” to give the girl. At first, the 9-year-old boy isn’t quite sure what he can bear to part with; the solution he devises makes his mother proud and brings Sarah joy. The story ends when James Otis and his mother receive an unexpected gift themselves—a confirmation that they are also seen and loved by their community.

First-time illustrator April Harrison’s illustrations make this quiet, heartfelt story come alive. Harrison is a fine artist whose work has been featured in museums, galleries and private collections. (Whoopi Goldberg owns one of her paintings!) McKissack would have been delighted by this work, and readers will treasure this special book for a long time to come.

Award-winning author and illustrator Julia Sarcone-Roach, There Are No Bears in This Bakery is the tale of Muffin the cat, the self-appointed neighborhood watch or “the whiskers of the neighborhood.”

Against a mouth-watering backdrop of sprinkled donuts, fruit tarts and eclairs, Muffin begins the bakery night shift, listening for every squeak, crunch, snip or flap. But soon a new sound, a disturbing and unfamiliar growl, draws Muffin out to investigate.

The alley is empty, but the bakery window is cracked open “like a crooked smile.” Muffin slips back in and sees the biggest mouse he has ever encountered. But it’s not a big mouse: Seated on the floor of the bakery is a very small bear with a very rumbly tummy.

Muffin tackles the problem at once, breaking out some goodies for the appreciative bear. Then loud snuffling sounds announce something else in the darkness—a huge creature that “smelled like a dumpster on a hot day.” Muffin’s eyes stretch to the size of saucers, and then everything goes dark.

What happens next? You’ll have to gift this book to a lucky child or yourself to find out. Sarcone-Roach’s melding of charming artwork and engaging story are wonderfully done, and the fun-filled, lyrical language will make rereading a pleasure.

Kids are masters of wild invention. In The Neighbors, author and illustrator Einat Tsarfati cheerfully pulls young readers into a world of colorful, untamed imagination as seen through the eyes of one creative little girl.

There are many doors in the girl’s apartment building; some doors seem playful, some foreboding, and one is downright smelly. The lobster door knockers, jungle plants and paw prints she finds in the halls all lead her to one conclusion: Her building is full of museum thieves, mermaids and jazz musicians. Whoever they are, she asserts, the residents of her building are far more exciting than her own parents.

While Tsarfati writes with a genuinely kid-friendly voice, she wisely limits her narration and lets her art take over. Again and again, our curiosity ends with a satisfying explosion of intriguing detail and vibrant colors that tumble boldly into each apartment. Rare gems join a clutter of Legos, fire-breathing acrobat babies toast bread and pirate-ship chandeliers sway underwater. Readers will want to explore every inch of the pages. Hint: keep your eyes open for the missing pet hamster that appears as a sort of Where’s Waldo? in each apartment scene.

Tsarfati writes and illustrates with a child’s enthusiasm and sense of possibility. Bold and exciting, The Neighbors teeters delightfully on the edge of chaos with an acrobat’s balance of storytelling and imagination. With so much to look at, it’s a hard book to close. Tsarfati tells one apartment resident’s story, but there are countless others yet to be discovered.

When Pura Belpré came to America in 1921, she brought with her a love of storytelling that made her something of a legend back home in Puerto Rico. She became a bilingual assistant at the New York Public Library and was surprised to discover not a single collection of Puerto Rican folk tales on the shelves; there was nothing to do but write them down herself. Planting Stories: The Life of Librarian and Storyteller Pura Belpré is a book about the celebrated writer and librarian’s stories, and how those stories took root and continue to grow.

Author Anika Aldamuy Denise threads Spanish vocabulary into Planting Stories. There’s no glossary but the words are clear in context: “Families come to hear folktales en inglés y español, to watch Pura’s puppets dance across the stage of her stories.” Paola Escobar’s illustrations contrast the island beauty of Puerto Rico (splashy palm trees and a trolley carrying passengers to the beach) with the density and hustle of New York, also beautiful despite the crowds and air pollution. The arc of Belpré’s life and legacy is shown in a way that recalls the emotionally gripping opening sequence from the movie Up as words and pictures combine powerfully to convey the impact of Belpré’s work.

Planting Stories includes a bibliography and resources for further exploration about Belpré, the first Puerto Rican librarian in New York, and her most famous stories. Anyone starting here will surely be curious to learn more about this hero librarian and the stories she scattered like seeds for us to discover.

This article was originally published in the February 2019 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Top Pick in Children's, starred review, January 2019

In author and illustrator Corinna Luyken’s atmospheric new picture book, My Heart, young readers see a series of diverse children whose innermost feelings are manifested via clever metaphors and softly rendered monotype illustrations. “My heart is a window,” one small child says as they stare through a window lit with vivid yellow sunlight. “Some days it is tiny,” says another child, wondering at a small and delicate flower in the grass.

In spare and pleasing rhyming text, Luyken explores the fears, joys and emotional vulnerabilities of children—and the moments when their hearts are closed (like a fence) or open (like the flowers in a dazzling bouquet). Luyken juxtaposes the muted grays of pencil with lemony yellows that seem to shine from the pages in her simple, uncluttered compositions. If you linger over the artwork, you’ll see that Luyken includes a subtle heart shape on each spread. Some are more pronounced than others, like the heart that forms in the shadow cast by a long and daunting slide outdoors at twilight, or the heart shapes formed in the pattern of a wrought iron fence.

A heart can be “closed . . . / or open up wide,” and a young girl surrounded by luminescent yellows, with her arms spread wide in joy, proclaims, “I get to decide.” This is the foundation of Luyken’s sensitive story, and it’s an empowering notion: Whether their hearts are closed or open, broken or full, children have autonomy over their own interior lives.

This article was originally published in the January 2019 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Debut author John Sullivan has based the story of his picture book, Kitten and the Night Watchman, on real events from his life. Dedicated to “all the strays,” this sweet narrative follows a kind night watchman who waves goodbye to his family as the sun sets and heads to a construction site to work alone under deep blue skies. But he has a friend at the work site—a small homeless kitten to whom he carefully tends.

Sullivan writes in short sentences and puts to use a string of evocative similes like “the full moon shines like an old friend,” and “garbage trucks line up like circus elephants.” TaeeunYoo illustrates the moonlit shadows of backhoes that look like insects and an excavator shaped like a giraffe. The angles of the buildings and construction equipment are expertly juxtaposed with the round, soft curves of the kitten and the watchman, and Yoo’s use of light—from the moon, lamps, the man’s flashlight, etc.—is particularly effective in the dark palette.

In one moment, readers see the watchman resting at work, thinking of “his boy and girl, safe and asleep at home.” This offers young readers a glimpse into the ways in which their caretakers keep their safety in mind, even when apart from them.

At the end of Kitten and the Night Watchman, readers are introduced to a happy family who greets the watchman when he returns home with his new pet. Don’t miss the chance to share this tender story with a child in your life.