Hector has grown up by the sea. He was raised on his family’s stories about it, and he dreams of spending his life exploring its wonders, as have generations of his family at the marina where they organize deep-sea diving expeditions. Recently, though, his family’s livelihood has been threatened by a greedy, unhappy neighbor. When Hector makes a magical discovery, it seems their fortunes might improve, but the discovery brings unexpected danger, and Hector is determined to set things right. The Secret of the Magic Pearl is an unusual picture book, and its blend of legend, legacy and quest gives it a magic of its own.

At 92 pages, The Secret of the Magic Pearl is more than twice as long as a typical picture book, but author Elisa Sabatinelli’s conversational, descriptive prose keeps things moving forward. Eight-year-old Hector is a wise and earnest narrator, a bit of an old soul who relays his story in chapters that read with the immediacy of journal entries. While the plot at times seems a little too convenient, Sabatinelli skillfully builds suspense, so readers will be anxious to find out what will happen to Hector and his charming family.

The most enchanting aspect is Iacopo Bruno’s artwork. Colorful and shrewd, Bruno’s illustrations flit in and out of the story, often tucked in amid columns of text, and their every appearance is worthy of attention. Adroit character sketches serve as visual asides and are enhanced by the clever inclusion of sea creatures as marine personality extensions. Every time we see Hector, for example, he is accompanied by a sweet-faced fish who wears an expression of curiosity, while the book’s villain is hounded by a dead-eyed fish skeleton. Detailed sketches of diving equipment, treasures from the sea and other flotsam and jetsam add a tangibility to the story’s cozy Italian seaside village setting. Nautical flags, anchors and a color scheme dominated by yellows, reds and blues give the book visual cohesion.

Lengthier than the average bedtime storybook, The Secret of the Magic Pearl nonetheless has all the makings of a splendid bedtime tale: adventure, danger and a well-earned happily ever after. Readers with a little bit of patience are in for a unique treat.

This exuberant celebration of family, written in an inviting second-person voice, portrays a girl’s trip overseas with her mother to visit Baachan, her grandmother, and her experience at a traditional Japanese bath house. When they finally arrive and reunite with all of her aunts and cousins, the girl runs into Baachan’s arms, the love between them unspoken and “understood,” a word repeated throughout the text.

After changing out of their clothes, everyone heads to the bath house. Author Kyo Maclear details the sensory delights of the journey—the clip-clop of their wooden sandals on the road and the sound of the breeze as it rustles the fabric of their yakuta. When the group enters the bath house, Maclear slips seamlessly into pleasing, fluid rhymes: “The water will flow / and the garden will grow / at the big bath house.”

Illustrator Gracey Zhang’s energetic watercolors have a relaxed sense of line as she reverently brings to life the Japanese setting and the easy camaraderie among the girl’s family. She depicts the bath house in warm shades of rose and embraces the bodies of the people there by refusing to conceal them. Readers see nude women of all ages washing one another and relaxing together in the big bath. “You’ll all dip your bodies, / your newly sprouting, / gangly bodies, / your saggy, shapely, / jiggly bodies, / your cozy, creased, / ancient bodies,” Maclear writes. “Beautiful bodies,” she declares.

In her closing note, Maclear explains that The Big Bath House was inspired by her own childhood trips to her grandmother’s home in Japan. At the bath house they’d visit together, she notes, “the idea that bodies should always be private and clothed wasn’t the norm.”

The book is infused with great tenderness as it chronicles a child’s supremely happy memory. In its final image, Baachan and her granddaughter hold hands. “Someday,” Maclear writes, “you’ll find the words, / but for now, / you have this.” That Maclear finally found the words is a gift to readers.

An inspiring take on a classical theme, David Soman’s The Impossible Mountain is both a magnificent allegory and a grand adventure.

Siblings Anna and Finn have heard the warnings about going beyond the wall that surrounds their village: It’s too high to climb, and the world beyond is too scary, with far too many bears. But there’s a whole stunning world waiting to be explored beyond the shelter of the wall, and though it’s not an easy journey—the best escapades never are— off they go, Finn in his cozy knitted hat cheerfully following determined, purple-haired Anna. 

Soman, best known for co-creating the delightful and bestselling Ladybug Girl picture book series with his wife, Jacky, outdoes himself in illustrating the vast scenery here. Towering cliffs and powerful waterfalls dwarf Anna and Finn, while a sparkling blue-green river dotted with boulders beckons them onward. Skilled use of light and shadow creates enchanting emerald forests and a campfire whose warmth you can almost feel. With settings this deep and intriguing, you’ll feel torn between the desire to linger over every spread and the yearning to discover what awaits beyond the next page turn. 

Anna and Finn’s path includes perils, threats and mystery, but Soman imbues every moment with wonder and ensures that their adventure feels reassuring and inspiring rather than frightening. Keep an eye out for the vivid red cardinal that accompanies the siblings and appears in every scene, an emblem of protection and optimism.

Although The Impossible Mountain would feel complete as a wordless picture book, Soman’s text complements his images perfectly. With a true storyteller’s sagacity, Soman knows exactly when to elaborate (which he does with literary flair) and when to pull back. He keeps Anna and Finn’s dialogue minimal, subtly conveying their easy camaraderie and shared bravery. When the pair ascend to the top of the wall for the first time, the only thing they can each say is “Wow.” Although its narrative follows familiar beats, The Impossible Mountain’s charming characters, breathtaking art and themes of perseverance, curiosity and hope set it apart. If we learn one lesson from picture books, perhaps it should be that the impossible is never impossible—and that impossible journeys are the ones most worth taking.

In this cumulative picture book, debut author Anne Wynter and Caldecott Honor illustrator Oge Mora knock it out of . . . well, out of the red brick building. 

“WaaaAAH!” yells baby Izzie, popping up in her crib and waking her neighbor’s parrot in the apartment building where they both live. The baby’s squalling and the bird’s squawking then wake Benny, Cairo and Miles from their sleeping bags (chips, popcorn and books in this spread suggest a sleepover had been in progress). The “Pitter Patter STOMP” of the trio playing flashlight tag then wakes downstairs neighbor Natalia, who decides it’s a great time to launch her new toy rocket; it soars out of her bedroom window with a “PSSHEEW!” 

Wynter’s story is tightly constructed and carefully paced. Each spread builds upon the one before and recounts the growing list of sounds. By the time we reach the book’s midpoint, a car alarm, Natalia’s rocket, the children’s game, the parrot and baby Izzie have succeeded in awakening Everybody in the Red Brick Building. 

The adults quickly take charge, soothing screaming Izzie and the parrot, turning off car alarms and flashlights and securing flying rockets. The soft sounds that compose the book’s second half, which include a street sweeper, acorns falling from a tree and wind chimes, also build cumulatively, but this time to send the residents back to sleep. Baby Izzie, who’s been awake the longest, receives the full benefit of all the sounds, with the marvelous addition of the “pah-pum . . . pah-pum . . . pah-pum of her mother’s heart” as they nestle closely together in a cozy magenta armchair.  

Mora’s art is the ideal match for Wynter’s engaging text. Her illustrations incorporate the story’s sounds (such as the parrot’s “Rraak! WAKE UP!” and the car alarm’s “WEEYOOOWEEEEYOOOOO!!!!”), collaged in her distinctive style and sweeping across the book’s spreads. The book’s climax, in which all the sleep-disturbing sounds fly forth from the building, is expertly composed. Mora knows exactly how to use elements like simple shapes to keep a busy event from being too visually complex or overwhelming. As always, her textured, highly patterned artwork invites lingering looks and repeat reads.

This gentle sonic adventure is just right for sending children off to sleep. 

In author-illustrator David Biedrzycki’s hilarious new picture book, secret agent Bubble07 is an alien who happens to look like a plush unicorn and has been tasked with a challenging mission: to infiltrate a human Earthling family and determine if the unicorn army should invade Earth. 

Bubble07 is beamed down into a video arcade, where a lucky dad snags it in the claw machine. In a series of interplanetary dispatches, the absurdly adorable unicorn agent files reports on daily life with its new family—an existence made somewhat more difficult by the family’s very huge, very hairy dog, whom Bubble07 suspects “might be onto me.” As time passes, Bubble07 relays many Earthling customs and delicacies that could improve life on the home planet, such as celebrating birthdays, telling bedtime stories and, above all, eating peanut butter cookies. 

Bubble07’s primary Earth contact is the family’s daughter, who hosts tea parties, brings the unicorn to school for show and tell, takes swimming lessons (Alert to home planet: Unicorns don’t float.) and gives the agent lots of loving snuggles. After 100 days, Bubble07 has gathered enough clandestine intelligence to make a final recommendation to its “fearless leader” as to the suitability of Earth for unicorns.

Thanks to the book’s large-format design, inventive text and a final twist in the endpapers, Invasion of the Unicorns succeeds on every level. Biedrzycki has crafted a read-aloud that will delight children, and its wry humor means that adults won’t mind repeat reads. Bubble07 is an endearing protagonist who surveys our world with curiosity and occasional alarm that Biedrzycki always plays for a lighthearted laugh. His pencil and watercolor illustrations are soft and warm as they portray a loving family and their diverse community.

This agent can only conclude this report by declaring Invasion of the Unicorns a treat for unicorn lovers in every galaxy.

Based on a “fantastically fun daladala ride” that author Naaz Khan once took in Zanzibar, Room for Everyone is an entertaining and bighearted joyride of a picture book that features fabulous illustrations by Mercè López. 

Musa and his sister climb aboard a daladala, a type of Tanzanian minibus, heading to the shore “to feast on fish at the Friday bazaar by the blue crystal waters of Zanzibar.” The bus and Khan’s pleasing prose bounce along rhythmically. The text is full of satisfying alliteration, flowing dialogue and rhyming couplets that are a delight to read aloud. 

The daladala has only a few passengers when the siblings board, but as they travel along, the driver spots people in need of a ride and yells, “It’s hotter than peppers out there in the sun! Come in, there’s room for everyone!” The additions include an older man with a bike that’s missing its seat; a herder and his two goats; three vendors carrying baskets of fruit; a farmer with four pails of milk; and so on. By the time the daladala finally reaches the shore, it’s packed with people, fish, chickens, large kitenge umbrellas, coconuts, a team of scuba divers and much more. 

Room for Everyone is an energetic counting book. Numbers on each spread stand out in a larger font and contrasting color. Key words and phrases also receive special attention with changes in size and color: For instance, in yellow and salmon lettering, “six stinky chickens” and “squawking” leap off a page’s jade background. 

The book’s palette is especially rich, featuring saturated yellows, sapphires and teals balanced against occasional warmer, softer hues. López’s delicate, fine-lined drawings are expressive and dynamic, filled with movement and momentum. 

Throughout the journey, Musa sustains a concern that the bus is overcrowded, but everyone manages to carve out space or wiggle their way in. After all, as the daladala’s passengers and driver alike shout, “There’s plenty of room for everyone!”