A clever little mouse in New York City spends hours gazing through a telescope at the moon, carefully noting his observations. Fellow mice ignore his conclusions―that the moon is made of stone―and cling to their own beliefs that the moon is made of cheese. Thus begins one mouse’s quest to prove his comrades wrong.

Early on in Armstrong: The Adventurous Journey of a Mouse to the Moon, the little mouse is summoned to the bowels of the Smithsonian, where he’s encouraged by a wise old mouse, who readers may recognize as the hero of Torben Kulmann’s similarly inspired Lindbergh: The Tale of a Flying Mouse.

His latest book is a visual and literary feast, the story of how a savvy rodent designs and builds his own tiny spacecraft, beating humans in the space race by more than a decade. With a large format and at 128 pages, it’s a creative cross between a picture and a chapter book, perfect for read-alouds.

Kuhlmann’s illustrations are exquisite, filled with sepia tones and bright splashes of color, impeccable technical detail, dramatic land- and moonscapes, and plenty of excitement―a raging fire, federal agents with snarling dogs on the verge of devouring the furry hero and, of course, a glorious moonwalk. There’s a wealth of humor, too―the mouse secretly taking notes atop the light fixture in a university classroom, a spacesuit test in a goldfish bowl and an alarm clock fashioned into a space capsule.

There’s also a “Top Secret” conclusion about what the first human astronauts found on the moon, as well as a concluding short history of space travel. Kuhlmann has created a tale so wonderfully imagined tale that it practically seems true. 

A delightful book that feels like playing paper dolls with extremely artistic friends, Monday Is Wash Day gives us a snapshot of daily life for Annie and her family. In a time before front-loaders and delicate cycles, before dry-cleaners and steamers, Annie and her sister pitch in—helping their mother fetch the water and turn the wringer, pour the bluing and hang the clothes out to dry. Proud of their hard work, the sisters look forward to playtime.

First-time author MaryAnn Sundby shares her knowledge and enthusiasm for these simpler times. With a calm, descriptive and assured voice, Sundby’s storytelling underpins the “everything in its place” sentiment of the book. The sisters’ gentle teasing brings a comfortable depth to an uncluttered story, while their baby brother’s games add a playful tone.

While Monday Is Wash Day tells a straightforward story, Tessa Blackham’s illustrations are far from simplistic. Beautifully drawn, Blackham’s cut-paper characters gracefully inhabit her paint-and-paper collage world, where no detail is forgotten. With a grandfather clock and hanging wall-portrait silhouettes, the rotary phone and kitchen curtains, soft colors bring us into a house that immediately feels like a home. Most astonishing is the tactile depth and movement on each page. With skillful manipulation, Blackham turns stiff paper into well-worn rugs and floaty dresses, wrinkly jeans and draped tablecloths. Clothes drying on the line nearly flutter in the breeze.

This gentle read-aloud is perfect for multigenerational sharing, and is sure to elicit a few “when I was little” tales of your own. Monday Is Wash Day charmingly captures a memory that, while not necessarily our own, is familiar and cherished—a sentiment that transcends the machinery and trappings of our days.

This meditation on the dark comes from retired astronaut Chris Hadfield, with assistance from author and journalist Kate Fillion. Hadfield was once commander of the International Space Station and was the first Canadian to walk in space.

In the book, we see Hadfield as a boy. He dreams of becoming an astronaut but fears the dark. The dark, in fact, attracts aliens in his mind’s eye. The young Hadfield lives with his family on an island, and everyone gathers on the night of July 20, 1969, to see the moon landing in the one home with a television. Outer space, Hadfield realizes that night as he watches history unfold, is the “darkest dark ever.” This is a pivotal moment, one in which he realizes he must master his fears. The alien-like shadows might still be there, but he has changed, now fully grasping, as put so eloquently by the authors, “the power and mystery and velvety black beauty of the dark.”

In that dark can live dreams, the kind that help you realize who you want to become. And of course, in his dreams, the boy is an astronaut floating in space. In a closing author’s note from Hadfield, he brings home his point: The dark can be for dreams—and best of all, “morning is for making them come true.”

The Fan Brothers render most of the book in a realistic style, though there are elements of mystery and even horror-lite—particularly in the aliens in the shadows, the ones young Hadfield fears. Since the book strikes an overtly inspirational tone, the creepiness is refreshing when the aliens appear, the spreads taking a turn for the bizarre, the fantastical. The illustrators depict these aliens in the dark as small, almost furry creatures with pupil-less, glowing eyes. Look closely: Even the trees at night by the boy’s home have leafy ears and eerie, yellow eyes.

This is a contemplative tale for children who love to read about outer space—and certainly those for whom the dark brings terrors. 

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

Wonderfall is a beautiful book about the various events that happen in the fall, including the beginning of the school year, Halloween, Thanksgiving and more. Author Michael Hall starts the top of each page with a word related to fall, tactfully adding “fall” to the end of the word (Beautifall, Thankfall), followed by a description of how it relates to the season. The story follows woodland animals, children and grown-ups as they experience the autumn season through parades, trick-or-treating and jumping in the leaves, among other fun seasonal experiences.

Hall’s bold digital illustrations combine acrylic paint with soft pastels, which may remind readers of the works of Eric Carle. The pages burst with the lush hues of fall, including bright green, burnt orange, red, yellow and stunning blue. The text is both minimal and large on each page, lending itself to beginning readers who are learning to sound out the words. Pre-readers will also enjoy pointing out the beautiful leaves, squirrels, acorns and other fall elements as they turn the pages. Parents will enjoy using this as a great transition between seasons. Bonus material at the book’s end includes a learning guide, which gives facts about the various animals in the story.  

Water Princess Gie Gie lives and plays in the vast beauty of Africa, a world where water is immeasurably precious and limited. Gie Gie and her mother must fetch water daily—a trip of many miles under the hot sun. They make the most of the strenuous journey, singing and dancing and reuniting with friends at the well. However, even after returning home, Gie Gie’s chore is not complete; the water must be boiled before drinking, clothes must be washed, a meal must be cooked for her family. With determined and vivid creativity, Gie Gie envisions making the water come to her. But this isn’t just the imaginings of a storybook character; The Water Princess is inspired by fashion model Georgie Badiel’s childhood in the arid climate of Burkina Faso. Today Badiel helps raise funds to build wells and plant trees in her former home.

Well-loved author and illustrator Peter H. Reynolds (The Dot) welcomes us to Africa with his recognizable, soft and energetic illustrations. Browns, oranges and yellows are warm and inviting, while simultaneously evoking the intense dusty, hot, water-scarce environment. Author Susan Verde (The Museum, You and Me) deftly narrates with a young girl’s honesty and imagination. Readers will find her voice poetic and precise. Alternatively weary and wise, Gie Gie will draw in young readers with her determination and liveliness.

A profoundly beautiful story in its own right, the real-world truth behind The Water Princess adds compelling depth and vitalness to Gie Gie’s story. Destined to make an impact, The Water Princess will entertain, educate and even inspire readers of all ages to join in Badiel’s mission. 

In this picture book debut from author Michelle Cuevas, illustrated by Caldecott Medalist Erin E. Stead, we meet the Uncorker of Ocean Bottles, who lives in a tall house on the shore with only his cat for company. We see he’s a bashful man—Stead paints his body language with beguiling precision—possessing slightly slumped shoulders, a thoughtful brow, a quiet demeanor and a kind face. His job is to keep his eye on the waves and gather bottles at sea, the ones containing messages. He then journeys as near or far as he must to deliver the letters. He longs for his own message in a bottle, addressed just to him, his own note from a friend. But “he had no name. He had no friends.”

Cuevas writes with a gentle pace and vivid, evocative language: The man, she tells us, sometimes “felt loneliness as sharp as fish scales,” and he longs to see his own name “winking” from a page, because a letter can “hold the treasure of a clam-hugged pearl.”

Using woodblock prints, oil pastels and pencils on a particularly warm palette, Stead fills this quaint, seaside town with townsfolk (each so distinctive they could each have their own story) who are seemingly oblivious to the anonymous sender of a party invitation the man finds in a bottle. He asks them, one by one, if they know to whom it belongs, but he finds no answers. When he shows up to the party to apologize to whomever it was intended, there they all stand to greet him, ready to celebrate. Clearly, the Uncorker is already a friend to many, whether he realizes it or not. He decides to stay at this party that astute readers will realize was thrown just for him.

This sweet-tempered story of kindness (if the entire world operated as these townsfolk do, it’d be a much better place) is as quiet and unassuming as its protagonist. Don’t let it slip by you. It’s utterly enchanting. 

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

In this playful picture book, Brendan Wenzel explores the world through the eyes of many, thereby reminding readers how our perspective shapes what we see, how we feel about it and how we react.

A long, brown, fluffy cat strolls through the world. We, as human readers, see it one way on the page. It looks like . . . well, a cat. It has whiskers, ears, paws and a collar with a bell. Yep, no doubt about it. It’s a feline.

But in succeeding spreads, we see a very different cat as Wenzel plays freely with shape, color, scale and perspective. A fox sees a significantly plumper (and moderately terrified) creature. A mouse sees a cat that looks not unlike a demon. A flea sees a massive field of fur and fluff. The fish spread takes the cake, as the tiny creature looks with a frown through the glass side of a tank to see large yellow eyes and mammoth white whiskers. The cat is all face and all fear.

Wenzel structures the story in a way that recalls, in particular, Eric Carle’s Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? The phrase “Yes, they all saw a cat” appears intermittently, giving the book a pleasing rhythm, and at the book’s close, we see a vision of the cat as if all the creatures are looking at once—right before a list of each creature whose eyes fell upon the cat. It’s a mish-mash of color, spots and stripes, smiling happily at the reader. Cue the happy squeals of delighted children.

This may be a primer in the power of perception with young children being its sweet spot, but it’s also a treat for all ages. Thought provoking, entertaining and smart, it’s one of the best picture books you’ll see this year. 

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

From about 1838 to 1857, Stephen Bishop was an underground guide in Mammoth Cave, Kentucky. With carefully chosen wording, rich historical detail and luminous images, author Heather Henson and Caldecott Honor recipient Bryan Collier bring Stephen’s story to light.

Stephen guides the reader through tunnels and quagmires of the cave and his own life. He tells us he can neither read nor write—it’s against the law to teach him these skills because he’s a slave: “Because I am bought and sold, same as an ox or a mule.” But Stephen has a yearning to learn, and he does, in a law-abiding manner. By the light of a candle, deep below the ground, when the visitors write their names on the cave’s ceiling, Stephen is watching and learning. In time, he writes his own name, too, along with the names of his wife and son.

Stephen hints at other secrets of Mammoth Cave. He tells of the men who discovered the cave and tracked bear beneath the earth. He makes his own discoveries of eyeless fish and albino crayfish. He finds a deerskin moccasin in the passageways below and wonders about his own legacy. Today, though Stephen no longer walks the cave, his name remains there for visitors to see, if only they look carefully.

This sensitive portrayal hints that every man and woman who walked this earth, free or slave, has a story worth telling.

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

This deceptively simple picture book about stories and storytelling packs a museum’s worth of culture and history into the scenery. I Am a Story shows us all the different ways words have moved us, and it’s an exhilarating trip.

Author-illustrator Dan Yaccarino opens with a scene of primitive people gathered around a fire while one of them points skyward; we can see that he’s describing the signs of the zodiac. The book ends with the same scene, only contemporized—a family on a camping trip, with the dad pointing out the constellations we know by those same signs. There are parallels like this throughout—stone tablets one era, iPads the next—and a red bird that appears in virtually every scene, now perched above the curtain at a Shakespeare play, then a tiny brooch on the lapel of a smiling librarian.

The bright colors and bold, modern style of the illustrations are cheering, and it’s amazing how many visual references Yaccarino pulls into this story: Japanese artist Hokusai’s iconic wave print; bookmobiles and Little Free Libraries, as well as libraries that travel by camel, donkey and elephant; the radio broadcast War of the Worlds; and Georges Méliès’ groundbreaking film A Trip to the Moon.

I Am a Story shows us in spare, elegant visual terms, that something as simple as a story is endlessly variable and everlasting. A powerful two-page spread simply reads, “I was censored, banned, and burned, but did not die.”

Read it, and then keep reading: Stories are all around you!

If you have ever observed pill bugs, regionally known as potato bugs or rollie pollies, you know what delightful creatives they are. Hank the pill bug stars in his adventure of a typical day, one that enchants with the ordinary rendered extraordinary. 

Hank’s Big Day, written by Evan Kuhlman and illustrated by Chuck Groenink, begins with a smiling bug with big dark eyes and a waving leg, who peers at readers from around the corner of his rock house. Throughout Hank’s day, he gleefully shimmies, nibbles, creeps, climbs and, of course, curls up. Hank’s best friend is an aviator hat-wearing human girl named Amelia, who idolizes Amelia Earhart. The world of imaginative play is explored with utmost delight as Amelia takes off on a flying adventure accompanied by her pill bug friend. On their pretend travels, they cross the Atlantic Ocean, wave to the queen in England and eat in a Paris café. They land safely back home and part ways, happy to have shared a wonderful day together.

Rendered in muted, natural colors, Groenink’s line drawings realistically display Hank’s bug’s-eye perspective. When Hank rides on Amelia’s hat, readers see an amazing, expansive view that encompasses Hank’s whole world. After Hank’s time with Amelia, he repeats his trek through the backyard, this time in reverse. The lighting in the pictures skillfully shows the passing of time.

This charming, positive book revels in unusual friendships and the value of imagination.

“A name. An age. A price. People like you. Like me. For sale!”

This is how Ashley Bryan opens the author’s note of his latest picture book. Years ago, Bryan acquired a collection of documents pertaining to slaves, dating from the 1820s to the 1860s. His inspiration for Freedom Over Me comes from an 1828 document in which 11 slaves were listed for sale by a woman named Mrs. Mary Fairchilds.

No ages are listed in Bryan’s source material, but for the profiles of the 11 slaves that constitute this book, he assigns ages to them, fleshing out their lives via free-verse poems. After opening the book from Mary’s point of view, Bryan brings readers a profile of each slave, followed by another poem about what he or she aspires to and dreams of. Peggy, for instance, is 48 years old, was sold on the block with her mother, was named “Peggy” by the men who took her from Africa and now cooks for the Fairchilds. In “Peggy Dreams,” we read that her parents named her Mariama and that the other slaves call her “Herb Doctor” for the healing root and herb poultices of which she is so knowledgeable. 

Bryan brings the slaves’ innermost pain to detailed life in these poems, and the effect is quite moving. The poems are accompanied by brightly colored pen, ink and watercolor portraits of the slaves, many of which look like stained glass. 

This is a compelling, powerful view of slavery from a virtuoso of the picture book form.

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

This article was originally published in the September 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

The child of books sits on a raft, legs dangling in the water—an ocean composed of lines from classical literature and lullabies. Buoyed on this torrent of tales, the dauntless child leads a boy, her traveling companion, around the globe, through forests and mountains. A metaphor for reading, an entertaining adventure, an intriguing work of art—whatever your interpretation, A Child of Books was written for the child of books in all of us.

Boldly drawn, cleverly detailed and colorful, this is an engaging collaboration between two talented artists. Bestselling author-illustrator Oliver Jeffers is well known for his quirky and delightful picture books, and museum-featured artist Sam Winston makes a memorable literary debut with his typographical landscapes. 

A Child of Books is an “I spy” journey for book lovers, and readers could get lost in the captivating interchange of carefully chosen literary excerpts and original art. Winston and Jeffers insert humor in the details, choosing passages to echo each illustration. Forest-themed tales shape tree branches. Overlapping lines of adventures create a dark, forbidding cave. Lines about legendary monsters come to life as a threatening beast.

This delightful treasure hunt through children’s literature will have you digging through your bookshelves, hunting for forgotten phrases and making room among the tomes for this book.

This article was originally published in the September 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Ross Collins hits the sweet spot of picture books with a story of clever rhymes starring a disgruntled little rodent and a huge squatter of a polar bear who has, sadly enough, taken over Mouse’s chair.

In a brilliant blend of text and endearing drawings, There’s a Bear on My Chair introduces Mouse, a sweater-sporting little guy who longs to sit in his customary spot. Although he admires some of Bear’s qualities—such as his stylish hair and his “fine taste in leisure wear”—Mouse simply cannot support Bear’s taking over his chair. Something must be done. Despite Mouse’s best efforts to lure Bear from his chair, nothing works. He tempts him with a golden pear, jumps out of a box in his underwear and finally loses his temper—all to no avail. Bear stays put.

Only when Mouse gives up and leaves the premises does Bear take notice. He lumbers off the chair and travels far along a snowy peak to his igloo home. There he finds someone (guess who?) snoozing on his bed.

The winning personalities of the two creatures and Mouse’s determination to regain his favorite chair will have little ones begging to hear this laugh-out-loud romp over and over again.

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