A mouse meets a wolf in the forest one morning and is gobbled up. He fears for his life—until he hears another creature inside the wolf. The mouse is surprised to discover it’s a duck, sleeping comfortably in his bed. The two dine together, the duck telling the mouse how much he loves living worry-free inside the wolf. When he was outside the creature, after all, he lived in constant fear of being swallowed up.

Out in the forest, when a hunter threatens to kill the wolf, the duck and the mouse decide to defend the duck’s home, bursting forth from the wolf’s mouth and scaring off the hunter. The grateful wolf promises the two, now free from the wolf’s belly, whatever they’d like. In the next spread, readers see them back inside the wolf, their home, having a ball.

It’s the ultimate in joining ’em if you can’t beat ’em, this decision by the duck to define his own terms for freedom and comfort by reshaping the power dynamics with his enemy, the wolf. “I may have been swallowed,” the duck says, “but I have no intention of being eaten.” He’s vanquishing the enemy by being consumed by him.

It’s a story packed with funny details—from the knives and candles of the duck’s wolf-belly home to the makeshift warrior gear the duck and mouse wear when charging the hunter. The dramatic dialogue is entertaining (there are several utterances of “Oh woe!”). And the amorphous dark shadows of the forest are beguiling in Jon Klassen’s hands.

Mac Barnett and Klassen do it again, bringing readers a story they’ll wolf down.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog.

One tiny mouse, clutching a crumb, takes off across the world. Big-eyed and resolved, despite its small stature, it heads out over a landscape enormously larger than itself. Where is it going? More importantly, why? Great Big Things is a powerful tale about courage, determination and the wisdom to recognize the truly big things in life.

What lucky readers we are, when two perfectly matched artists collaborate in a picture book. Kate Hoefler and Noah Klocek tell a story that is both unassuming and fathoms deep. Hoefler, author of the poignant Real Cowboys, creates exquisite poetry; brief sentences make the grandest gestures against Klocek’s bold backdrop. Like a hiker conserving energy on a long journey, Hoefler doesn’t waste a word, as description and alliteration tell a tight, compact tale.

Klocek (who also works for Pixar) illustrates with a bold, passionate hand. His deep colors and soft-edged images are both imposing and still slightly fanciful. The sharp grass, strong winds, the chill of the sea—they all seem tangible and full of movement, while every landscape has myriad stories of its own. Without dialogue, the vastness of the world—dotted with the smallness of the mouse—gives us the sense of struggle and determination. We know there must be something larger, vaster, more eternal pulling it forward. And somehow, we know that the mouse will get there.

Both a grand journey and an effective metaphor, Great Big Things is a stunning, multilayered story with a very simple message. Keep moving forward; there are even grander things ahead.

It’s not an easy task to transport today’s technology-minded children back to 1888, when cars were nonexistent and banned by German law, but author-illustrator Jan Adkins succeeds with aplomb in Bertha Takes a Drive: How the Benz Automobile Changed the World.

Adkins’ detailed period drawings set the scene for adventure. When Bertha Benz, wife of inventor Karl Benz, wakes her two boys, she’s on a mission. She plans to sneak the Benz Motorwagen out the garage door and past the German soldiers guarding it. The government and the church oppose the development of the motorcar, but Bertha is determined to take it on a 60-mile spin.

The boys are thrilled to make the trip to Grandmother’s in the marvelous invention. After bouncing swiftly along the rough, rutted roads—built for horses, goats and cattle—they help Mother push the car up a long, steep hill.

Bertha shows her knowledge, inventiveness and spunk in surpassing each hurdle along the way. Her hairpin does a quick fix on the fuel line, and the garter from her stockings works to coat an electric wire. After the car hurtles way too fast down a steep hill, Bertha calmly enlists the help of a cobbler to create the first brake pads.

When the three arrive at Grandmother’s and telegraph Father, word spreads that the motorcar is a success. The German government gets behind the project, and automobiles become the wave of the future. A diagram of the internal combustion engine and a pictorial timeline of the evolution of the automobile augment the story.

Billie B. Little is the Founding Director of Discovery Center at Murfree Spring, a hands-on museum in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

The joy of reading—from letters to books to maps and even cereal boxes—is celebrated in this slim collection designed for budding bibliophiles. Published by a poetry-focused division of Highlights for Children, this book features joyful and easily accessible poems about reading, ones that easily could fit in the pages of Highlights magazine itself.

Often rhyming, the poems explore the many ways of using reading: joyfully losing oneself in a story, sharing a bedtime story, exploring foreign lands in books, treasuring Grandpa’s handwritten birthday card and even doing research on that new guinea pig by using Google. But while these poems are fine and fun (and make a very quick, easy entrée to poetry), they are far from fresh. Clichés abound—such as “an open book will help you find an open heart, an open mind” and “a book will always be a friend.”

Still, despite the tired phrases and cartoony illustrations, Read! Read! Read!—like all poetry collections geared toward the in-between audience of 5- to 10-year-olds—is welcome for its ability to help students learn more about the genre. While it’s great to use reading as a theme, perhaps the author—who has won several poetry awards—could have refreshed her metaphors and imagery a bit. Recommended only as needed to fill poetry gaps in a collection.

When Mark Twain’s daughters begged for a bedtime story in a hotel in Paris in 1879, he began a fairy tale about a poor boy named Johnny. Later he jotted down 16 pages of notes, only to leave the project unfinished.

Fast forward to 2014, when Doubleday acquired the rights to the story, working with the Mark Twain House and Museum and the Mark Twain Papers. The publisher turned to husband-and-wife team Philip and Erin Stead, the author and illustrator of the Caldecott Medal-winning A Sick Day for Amos McGee. The result of this years-in-the-making, grand collaboration is the highly unusual, lively The Purloining of Prince Oleomargarine.

The story rolls right along, focusing on dirt-poor Johnny (and his pet chicken, named Pestilence and Famine), who, after a series of misfortunes, shows kindness to an old beggar woman. As for the titular princely hero, he only makes a brief appearance near the end, as a demanding, narcissistic young man holding a band of poor outcasts hostage in a cave.

There’s also a king and queen and a menagerie of talking animals, including an elephant that will remind fans of the Steads’ Amos McGee pachyderm. Erin’s trademark illustrations combine a variety of techniques (wood carving, ink, pencil and laser cutting) in muted colors to convey sadness, humor and immediacy, serving to pace the lengthy tale perfectly.

Not surprisingly, both pictures and words hold magic here. How could Philip pay homage to Twain while crafting his own tale? The solution: Philip interrupts chapters with imagined exchanges between himself and Twain, as they sit, sip tea and argue plot points. Somehow the whole thing works beautifully, providing readers with an intriguing look at the creative process.

This is a noteworthy publishing treat, one best shared and read aloud. Readers can imagine Twain sitting back, nodding his head and smiling as he admires this new, deeply imaginative rendition.

This article was originally published in the October 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

There’s a lot to love about Peter Sís’ autobiographical picture book, an adventure story that pays tribute to the enduring imagination of children. Told from the point of view of Sís as a young boy, the story first draws readers into the grand, creative play of a group of friends. Peter and his four best buds love adventure, and they particularly love to engage in pirate play. When their school announces a costume party, they are sure they’ll all show up dressed as pirates.

But Peter’s mother has a better idea: She sews him a Robinson Crusoe costume. After all, he’s the hero of Peter’s favorite book. When all his friends point and laugh at his costume, Peter goes home and collapses into bed, where he has a detailed dream about sailing to and exploring an island. Here the story shifts dramatically to the boy’s solitary play. His friends may show up in his bedroom later to apologize, but it’s during Peter’s imaginative solo adventure that he finds healing and courage, making this story a tribute not only to Daniel Defoe’s classic novel but also to the resilience of children.

Sís’ palette is especially stunning. The illustrations expand to full-bleed spreads upon the boy’s arrival at the island, and the colors shift from primarily earth-toned hues to rich blues and greens. It’s simply gorgeous. “I feel stronger now and brave,” the boy thinks as he learns to survive on the mysterious island, with shadows lurking, animals appearing and flora and fauna flourishing.

Robinson is an unforgettable journey and a feast for the eyes.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog.

This article was originally published in the October 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In this contemporary and sensitive twist on the classic “Humpty Dumpty” rhyme, Dan Santat offers a story about persistence in the face of anxiety.

On the title-page spread, we see delicate Humpty midfall. He loves to watch birds but has taken an inadvertent dive from his favorite bird-watching spot. “It was just an accident,” he tells us. “But it changed my life.” The fall, despite being put back together again at Kings County Hospital, leaves him anxious and afraid of heights. He misses his favorite pastime and misses the birds, but worry and apprehension debilitate him.

His solution is to build a bird out of paper. When his soaring creation gets stuck atop the wall, Humpty decides to climb it once again. His triumphant arrival at the top is encouraging and altogether heartening, as Humpty tells us that perhaps now we won’t think of him as “that egg who was famous for falling.” But in an unexpected twist, Santat wraps up the story with an exuberant surprise, a moment of exhilarating freedom.

In this tale about resilience in the face of adversity and refusing to let worry get in the way of life, Santat avoids heavy-handedness and communicates a lot with color, light and perspective. The final two spreads showing Humpty’s liberation are breathtaking.

A good egg. A very good egg.

Julie Danielson features authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog.

This article was originally published in the October 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

“In Iraq, rivers flow through green marshes. Wind swoops across sand dunes and through ancient cities. Zaha Hadid sees the rivers and marshes and dunes and ruins with her father and imagines what cities looked like thousands of years ago.”

So begins Jeanette Winter’s picture book biography of the renowned architect Zaha Hadid, who died in 2016 at the age of 65. Winter, herself the architect of many acclaimed books, notes that she was inspired by seeing photos of Hadid’s architectural designs, in which the “buildings seemed to fly. My spirit also took flight—to a place in my imagination that only landscape had taken me before.”

Winter’s book makes effective use of white space as she chronicles Hadid’s career as a young architectural student in London and her early challenges. Hadid entered many architectural competitions before finally winning one; and then her entry was so daring the city committee refused to build it. But Hadid didn’t, of course, give up.

Winter’s art helps young readers imagine Hadid’s creative process, as we see her design buildings that are not rectangles, but instead resemble shells, tall dancing grass and the swirling shapes of constellations. The book includes extensive source notes as well as a double-page spread depicting the locations of some of Hadid’s most famous buildings.

“The world is not a rectangle,” said the pioneering architect, who was the first woman to receive the most prestigious awards in her field. And speaking of awards, Winter’s elegant, luminous tribute is sure to garner a few.

Deborah Hopkinson lives near Portland, Oregon. Her most recent book for young readers is Independence Cake.

Perfect for a lesson on identity, multiculturalism and diversity, Why Am I Me? is less a story and more an open door for discussion. Every day we encounter other people—heading to work, playing in the park, walking down city streets, filling up the subway car. How often do we truly ponder those around us?

Linguistically very simple, Why Am I Me? relies on its artwork to open up the many cultures and lives all around us. Illustrators Selina Alko and Sean Qualls draw on their own Brooklyn experiences to fill the pages with a busy, inviting city. A cleverly placed star ties the book together, reminding us of all that we have in common. Artistic, soft renderings of faces and objects address not only our outward appearances but also musical skills, athletic endeavors and family makeup. Some faces are detailed and expressive, while others are vaguely traced in the background, keeping the artwork focused without losing its aesthetic. Details like subways, skateboards and a cat in a window give us a sense of place and belonging. As an extra artistic note, small scraps of text (newsprint, fiction, reference books, textbooks) are collage-style tucked under colorful storefronts and buildings. Certain bits of text pop out, inviting us to look more closely and ponder the artists’ intent.

Author Paige Britt keeps the text minimal and simple, opening the discussion without lecturing. Little readers may have many questions about the people painted on the page, making this a good first look at diversity for little ones, and could provide thoughtful writing prompts for older students.

Right off the shelf, Bob Staake’s The Book of Gold shimmers with promise; the lions of the New York Public Library beckon, and you just know something fantastic awaits.

In muted sepia tones of a vaguely bygone era (trolleys, bowler hats), we first meet Isaac. Everything bores Isaac, despite living in one of the most exciting cities in the world with parents who try desperately to pique his interest. When a shopkeeper sets him on a mission to find The Book of Gold, Isaac starts in Brooklyn, determined to be the book’s discoverer. At the onset, he is merely interested in the promised riches, but the book proves enigmatic and well hidden, and it’s only a matter of time before Isaac begins to actually read the books he examines. We leave the sepia tones behind as Isaac ages and his quest takes him around the world. Will he discover the truth that all readers know?

Renowned author/illustrator Bob Staake writes with the heart of a true book lover, but illustrates with an equally strong and passionate eye. Staake’s round, expressive characters feel slightly old-fashioned—you might just as easily find them in a picture book from the ’50s—but not at all outdated. Brooklyn and Manhattan bustle and burst with detail, interesting sights and people in every direction.

Readers of all ages and backgrounds will love every inch of The Book of Gold. You might be tempted to turn over the bookshelves and find that mysterious book. But then again, maybe you’ve already found it.

It’s hard not to feel sad and frightened after viewing the world news, with stories of hatred, tragedy and devastation. Children may have even stronger reactions. Come with Me by Holly M. McGhee gently addresses this topic through a young biracial girl who becomes frightened after watching a television newscast. When she asks her papa if there’s something she can do to make the world a better place, he simply says, “Come with me.”

As they wait for and ride the subway under their city, the father tips his hat at passersby of different genders, races and religious faiths. So the little girl does, too. And when she goes with her mama to a market, they see more diverse individuals, rendered in ink and soft watercolors, and know that one person doesn’t represent a family, race or geographic area. Emboldened by kindness and a newfound bravery, the little girl decides to venture outside with her dog. A boy across the hall asks her where she’s heading, and she responds, “Come with me.”

Together they realize that two people are stronger than one, and with one step at a time, no matter how small, they can make the world a kinder place to live. Coloring with chalk draws in a neighbor, and this soon becomes a small community event. The book will resonate with anxious children and budding activists, and parents, caregivers and educators will appreciate the apprehension of the little girl’s parents and their decision to no longer live in fear.

Rare is the picture book that grabs as immediately as On a Magical Do-Nothing Day. On the cover, a bespectacled child of indeterminate gender, wearing a neon-orange coat, swings through the air on a tree branch, pulling readers along on a wondrous journey.

Award-winning Italian author-illustrator Beatrice Alemagna tells the story of a child’s transformative day, reminiscent of Aaron Becker’s Journey series. But while Becker’s bored young hero escapes into a fantastical world of imaginary creations, Alemagna’s narrator explores the woods outside a cabin on a rainy day, eventually seeing the world in a new light.

While Mom writes at her computer, the child grows bored with a video game. The dreary day gets even worse when the narrator goes outside and accidentally drops the game into a pond. Alemagna’s straightforward prose conveys the kid’s misery, while each illustration offers unexpected delights full of texture, swirls and whirls, showing, for instance, the hero’s legs turning into leaden tree trunks. Meanwhile, the orange splash of raincoat shines like a flashlight from scenes of dark greens and grays.

Soon, however, the child begins to notice a world of luminous natural delights, like snails with antennae “as soft as Jell-O” and how digging into the mud reveals “a thousand seeds and pellets, kernels, grains, roots and berries.” Alemagna’s sense of color, design and artistry is stunning as she manages to convey the delights of the outdoors without being preachy or predictable.

“I felt that there was something special close by. That I was surrounded,” the narrator says. Readers of On a Magical Do-Nothing Day will indeed be surrounded by something special: a masterpiece of narration and art.

This article was originally published in the September 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In the world of children’s literature, alphabet books abound—is there really room for another? Patrick McDonnell’s latest picture book answers with an emphatic YES! Because his anthropomorphic animals are so expressive and playful, McDonnell, a Caldecott Honor-winning artist, makes this abecedarian book fast paced and high energy—even without using text.

Out for an innocent walk, the little red cat encounters first—surprise!—a chomping Alligator, prompting our hero to run for his life. Along the way, hilarity ensues when he meets Bear, Chicken and—what else?—a fire-breathing Dragon, prompting the now-frightened group to all don Glasses, run fast and dream about returning Home.

Wordless double-page spreads enhance the action of the chase, which leads to some perilous page-turning moments of suspense. As with many McDonnell treasures, there is subtle humor (R stands for “restroom”) and surprises sure to delight adults as well as kids who will be guessing along the way—what will the next letter represent? And more importantly, will the little red cat make it home safely? The last three pages hold the answer to that question.

While the letters and what they represent are pretty obvious for most readers, the last page does include a legend.

A wordless ABCs book? Sure, it’s been done, but probably never in such fast, fun fashion.

This article was originally published in the September 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.