The Zebra’s Great Escape is a delightful, action-filled saga packed into picture book format—which its creators use to their full advantage. Katherine Rundell’s text brims with heart and humorous details, while Sara Ogilvie’s illustrations feature explosions of color that nicely contrast with the black-and-white zebras at the center of this adventure. 

An exuberant girl nicknamed Mink befriends a zebra who suddenly appears one day. “Mink was not usually gentle,” Rundell writes. “She liked doing things fast and wild. But it was with all the gentleness in the world that she reached out and laid a hand on the zebra’s fur.” The zebra, Gabriel, communicates through swirling streams of color, and explains that he needs help finding his parents, who have been kidnapped by an evil “Collector” named Mr. Spit.

Mink discovers that she can also communicate via color with her elderly pet dog, Rainbow (aptly named). He is loath to help “the barcode-horse,” but Mink begs, noting, “Daddy says, when people ask you for help, they’re actually doing a magnificent thing—they’re giving you the chance to change the world for the better!” Rainbow is persuaded, with the help of a small bribe, to send a message to all the animals in the city, and off our heroes go, to confront the evil Collector and free an entire alphabet of animals in dire straits. 

The picture book combines an appealing old-fashioned feel with modern flair, in moments such as when oblivious adults, busy staring at their phones, don’t notice a girl riding a galloping zebra through the streets. Ogilvie’s lively illustrations bring Rundell’s delicious prose to life. Mink is so full of zest that she practically leaps off the page, while the dastardly Mr. Spit resembles Captain Hook with his long, thin mustache, jutting chin and fancy attire. The color orange pervades the book—in Gabriel’s fiery communications, in Mink’s polka-dotted shirt, in the burning rage that surrounds the evil Mr. Spit. It’s nicely offset by numerous pages bathed in blue: cozy bedtime scenes, the animals running to freedom and spirited celebrations at the end.

Don’t miss The Zebra’s Great Escape, a kaleidoscopic celebration of communication and the rewards of helping one another. 

Reading Still Life makes one immediately wish for children to share it with, since this book is guaranteed to have them shouting in glee, their exclamations growing louder with every turn of the page. At the same time, because readers must pay careful attention to the visual details on each page, enjoying the book is a wonderful exercise in observation, memory and anticipation. 

The fun is not surprising, given that author Alex London has written over 30 books for children and teens. In Still Life, the focus is on a curly-haired artist intent on explaining the concept of still life paintings—especially how predictable they are. “This is a still life,” he begins. “It is a painting of objects sitting still. In a still life, nothing moves.” He stands beside a rather baroque work in progress depicting a strange collection including items like a dollhouse, jam, paper and a flickering candle. 

Caldecott Medalist Paul O. Zelinsky carefully delineates between the painting, which is laden with colorful, intricate details, and the artist’s real world, which is composed of much starker, quicker sketches. This delineation helps readers differentiate between art and “reality” in this delightfully meta picture book. The first sign of trouble appears when a pair of mice climb up the artist’s (real) table, eventually scurrying into the painting and getting into the (painted) jam. Soon a princess, dragon and a knight appear in the painting, prompting the artist to declare, “Dragons? No, nothing like that in this sort of painting. There are no creatures to ruin the tablecloth or stomp through the strawberries. None whatsoever!” Kids will relish the oodles of activity taking place right under the artist’s oblivious nose, especially when he announces, “If you see a note in a still-life painting, please do not read it.” Still Life provides a fabulous, subtle way to teach children they shouldn’t always believe everything they hear, no matter how earnest the proclaimer may be.

London and Zelinsky have fun turning expectations upside down, such as when the princess saves the dragon from the troublesome knight. Still Life is a hilarious hoot, and readers will likely never look at a still life in quite the same way. 

One Small Spark: A Tikkun Olam Story presents a big idea to young readers in an accessible, manageable way. Starting with a dreary spread of a cityscape, overshadowed by dark clouds and scribbles, the text asks readers to “Imagine the world you want to live in. If that’s not the world you see, will you create it?

A girl departs a city bus with an older woman, both of their bodies bright splashes of color in a sea of bleak tones. At a park, another girl, also bathed in color, stares forlornly at a broken swing. After the first girl, our young protagonist, helps fix the swing, she notices piles of trash and other broken things nearby, including a little free library and a seesaw. As Victoria Tentler-Krylov’s illustrations show the girl eagerly gathering others—including kids and adults—to come together and restore the park, Ruth Spiro’s sparse text offers encouragement, such as, “In a moment you decide who you are and who you want to be.”  

An author’s note explains that the story is an example of the Jewish concept of tikkun olam, which can be translated as “repair the world,” “improve” or “make right.” Presented in this manner, it’s an idea that will readily appeal to young readers and is likely to set their own creative wheels spinning about problems they might tackle. 

Spiro’s narration is just right—gently didactic and inspiring without being heavy-handed—and Tentler-Krylov’s illustrations feel magical as they show color gradually spreading through this girl’s world as the result of her actions. By the end of the book, there’s a Marc Chagall-like quality to Tentler-Krylov’s art, in which figures swirl in movement and action, suggesting all of the possibilities that determined people can achieve. The final spreads of One Small Spark are a riot of color, full of constructive energy—a stark contrast from the dour cityscape at the start of the book.

One Small Spark is an ode to positive transformation, an affirming book that’s just right for its young audience.

One of the most delicious parts of this exuberant picture book set in 20th-century Tokyo is the inclusion of two small, eye-popping historic photos: Here are actual soba noodle deliverymen in action, balancing impossible towers of noodles on one shoulder as they whiz through the city streets. The images, which appear in the front matter and on the back cover of Noodles on a Bicycle, complement Kyo Maclear’s tribute to these wheeled magicians, and will help young readers see that Gracey Zhang’s illustrations of these noodle towers are inspired by the real thing.

In an author’s note, Maclear shares that she spent her childhood in a Tokyo neighborhood where cycling deliverymen were part of daily life—and completely fascinating to a child. Maclear’s lyrical, rhythmic text captures this childhood sense of wonder, as the narrator and her siblings wait in the morning for the first “flicker of pedal and wheel.” The narrative also includes the actual noodle-making process, in which the sobaya chef rises at dawn to cut noodles and create his special, famous broth.

Store names, road signs and advertisements on trucks are all shown in Japanese characters. Zhang’s vibrant, colorful illustrations are full of tiny, authentic details that will entrance adult readers as well. If you imagined that these cyclists balanced light, relatively sturdy bowls made of plastic or lacquer, you’d be wrong: They carried ceramic soup bowls and wooden soba boxes. As the story follows these amazing acrobats throughout their busy day, the narrator and her friends and siblings practice balancing bowls filled with water. Watch out!

There’s a lovely surprise at the end, too, as the children and their mother are getting hungry for dinner. Will they get a delivery themselves? They will, and it’s special indeed, brought by their own “delivery daddy.”  Rather than end with the meal, we see a tired father lovingly tucking his children into bed, while outside the empty dishes are stacked for collection. In Noodles on a Bicycle, words and art come together seamlessly to reveal a world now long gone, in a loving, memorable tale that children will want to savor time and again. 

Goat and Bunny are BFFs with a lot in common (mainly, coffee and canned grass). However, stressful situations sometimes make their differences stand out. Luckily, Goat and Bunny learn cooperation, flexibility and acceptance as their friendship grows. It Is Okay, written and delightfully illustrated by Ye Guo, is a great pick for little ones learning to navigate life when it doesn’t go their way.

Guo writes with an easy, declarative style that is accessible for little ones and contains a power in its simplicity. Forgoing flowery descriptions for factual narration works well when combined with her explosive art: There’s hardly time to read when faced with such joyful artistic chaos! From the first image of Goat, halfway inside his cupboard, digging around for canned grass, surrounded by debris from his ransacked pantry, Guo illustrates with clear glee. Every page is a cacophony of style and color, hurriedly sketched and meticulously detailed in turn—and absolutely fun. Readers will want to look at every single image for fear of missing something hilarious (watch closely for a slug on an underground toilet). Into this mix come Bunny and Goat, whose facial expressions add to the hilarity. Goat’s face as he waits for Bunny, stuck headfirst and upside down in a tiny rabbit den, will make one laugh out loud. It’s just plain fun art that kids will love. 

But for all the laughs and silliness, It Is Okay has a well-rounded and important message about acceptance that translates beyond yummy ideas on preparing canned grass. It is great to have friends who are different from us. They help us become stronger and more resilient, and aid us in exploring the world in new ways.

In the nearly wordless I’m Sorry You Got Mad, the main character, Jack, owes his friend Zoe an apology. Throughout the book, Jack scribbles out tepid apologies on ripped notebook paper, his cheeks an angry red and mouth turned into an angry frown. His teacher, Ms. Rice, needs him to write a heartfelt apology, but Jack isn’t sure how to do that: Drafts like “I’M SORRY YOU GOT SO MAD!!!” don’t quite cut it. Besides, he’s still mad that Zoe got so mad!

As the book goes on, each apology letter becomes a bit clearer, a bit closer to the real thing. At one point, even the reader may be tricked into thinking the apology is perfect—but Ms. Rice continues her coaching and asks Jack to try again. And he does. But will Zoe forgive him?

Kyle Lukoff’s I’m Sorry You Got Mad is an incredible conversation starter. The only words involved are those on Jack’s apology note, the notes of encouragement Ms. Rice writes back to help Jack craft a real apology, and Zoe’s eventual response. It’s never clear exactly what happened to cause the hurt feelings or whose fault it is, but that also doesn’t matter. What matters is honoring each other’s feelings and making things right. I’m Sorry You Got Mad goes a long way in teaching children the different ways an apology can sound, the ways it can fall flat, and the ways we can repair and restore beloved friendships. Julie Kwon’s expressive character illustrations will help readers identify the difference between anger, regret and remorse. The classroom and other students in the background of the illustrations also give both children and adults opportunities to pore over several little backstories, imagine what might be happening in them and why, and consider who else in Jack’s class might be due an apology. After all, everyone is going to owe someone an apology at some point. So we might as well learn how to do it right. This instructive book can help anyone who struggles to make amends—kid or grown-up.

Oliver Jeffers is one of the most recognizable and innovative creators in children’s literature today, and The Dictionary Story showcases his vivid imagination at work in yet another collaboration with the wildly inventive Sam Winston (following A Child of Books). An authors’ note explains this picture book as the product of a team of “so many talented friends,” including bookmaker Haein Song, who crafted the handmade dictionary incorporated into each brilliant spread. 

Perfect for youngsters, especially those just learning the alphabet, The Dictionary Story will be appreciated by adults as well, as it brings layers of clever wordplay and elements that may take several encounters for readers to discover. The book introduces a dictionary who isn’t sure of her purpose, given that “she didn’t tell a story like all the other books.” Frustrated by this, Dictionary decides one day to “bring her words to life,” an action that is depicted to readers as drawings that seem to emerge from, leap off and otherwise escape their previously well-ordered pages. Unsurprisingly, a mess ensues, as a hungry Alligator goes in search of something to eat, chasing Donut through the pages and running into figures such as Ghost, Moon and Soap along the way. Dictionary is disappointed that “now nothing was in the right place or even making sense” and worried that “her words would be no use to anyone now.” 

To clean up the chaos, Dictionary calls upon her friend Alphabet and starts the song that “helped put everyone back together again,” restoring order to the words and their definitions. Children will love this opportunity to sing along, and adults will appreciate the chance to reinforce fundamental aspects of reading. Instructive though it may be, The Dictionary Story is even more fun than function, and it will reward repeat encounters, with readers delighted to find the unexpected definitions populating this most unique of dictionaries. A masterful combination of the simple and the complex, this book is sure to be a favorite.