Moving (Primary)

(2) PS There's plenty to do when a girl and her mother move to a new town, but after the novelty wears off, without a friend things get boring fast. Enter Scribbly, an imaginary stick dog drawn by our self-sufficient protagonist. "Scribbly was the bestest friend anyone could ask for." When the girl is invited to a birthday party where she doesn't know anyone, her mother tells her to leave Scribbly at home, but she "really really needed him." Scribbly not only attends but is the life of the party, nibbling cake, doing backflips, and befriending everyone. In short, he makes "being the new kid much easier." Pencil and watercolor illustrations combine the kid-art representation of Scribbly with the more realistic goings-on. Astute readers may pick up on the mother's facial expressions and develop a more nuanced interpretation of the girl's reliance on the imaginary friend to assuage anxiety and doubt. When she adopts a real dog from a shelter, the girl bridges the gap between the imaginary and real worlds and boosts her self-confidence. Scribbly is still around, but she's no longer dependent on him. Dogs, whether real or imagined, are a girl's best friend in this book that may soothe social anxieties over being the new kid.

Reviewer: Julie Hakim Azzam | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2021

(2) PS A is for ancestors, abuelita, and African dance; B is for bodega, braids, and bubble tea. In this alphabet book, Alko (One Golden Rule at School, rev. 7/20) highlights some of the myriad ways immigrants have contributed to this country's rich diversity with her bright, friendly, and festive illustrations. The art—mixed-media collage with wide strokes of paint on newsprint, tickets, lined notebook paper, and musical scores--is the standout here. The pages are as varied and textured as the images she has chosen to represent immigration. Readers will find things both familiar and new, but all are matter-of-factly part of the mix. Maybe you knew that Turkish delight and kimchi were brought to this country by immigrants from other parts of the world, but Alko's at-a-glance representation reminds us that bananas and yogurt were as well. Scattered among the foods and cultural offerings (martial arts, yoga, samba dance) are concepts foundational to the American--and universal human--dream (ambition, endurance, belonging). Each word is hand-lettered, and the diversity of fonts celebrates and mirrors the diversity of ideas and contributions. With immigration a constant political flashpoint, Alko takes a warm, celebratory approach to enumerate the dimensionality that has come from around the world to become part of the fabric of America.

Reviewer: Maeve Visser Knoth | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2021

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Devon Holzwarth. Estrella's tía Fortuna must leave her casita in Miami's Seaway before it is torn down. She is moving into La Casa de los Viejitos, a facility for seniors. As she and Estrella say goodbye to various elements of the Seaway, Tía Fortuna's attitude is accepting--her home will be a memory, like the home she left in Havana years earlier--though there are hints that she shares some of Estrella's apprehension. Bittersweet though the story is, the overall atmosphere is one of warmth, both in the reassuringly portrayed Casa de los Viejitos as Tía Fortuna settles in and meets her neighbors and in the central Sephardic Jewish family. The dreamy mixed-media illustrations are filled with references to all aspects of Tía Fortuna's background, both in her remembrances and physically among her belongings, with the (somewhat lengthy) text granting particular significance to a mezuzah, a key, and, of course, tasty borekas. An author's note gives more information about Sephardic Jews and Behar's own connection to the story, and a glossary defines the many terms from Spanish, Hebrew, and other languages used within the text. A welcome story about change and aging loved ones, and about Sephardic culture.

Reviewer: Shoshana Flax | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Gill Smith. This affecting and emotional picture book about displacement, tragedy, grief, and hope begins with a dramatic rescue, as two young children arrive by boat to a foreign shore: "There were two of them left in the boat... Brother and sister, lost in the dark sea. They could have died. The bigger one thought they wouldn't survive." The children are housed in what appears to be a refugee camp and their physical needs met; soon, the younger brother makes friends playing outside, and he "hardly ever thought about the time before." The older sister, though, stays inside and apart from others, consumed by her memories and trauma (unspecified) and the responsibility of bearing witness to the past. "She felt she shouldn't forget." Attempting to bring some cheer into their "broken home," the boy catches a butterfly and presents it to his sister. She tries to release it, but it won't depart; eventually, in order to guide the creature, she steps out onto the porch. As the butterfly flies off, the girl, now experiencing the beauty in the light and warmth that surround her, tentatively rejoins the world. Gorgeously evocative and textured mixed-media illustrations are predominantly gray at the beginning and incorporate more and more bright colors as the children respond positively to their environment. Although the shadows are not gone, the girl's self-isolation and profound loneliness have begun to dissipate, following those first steps she's taken toward healing.

Reviewer: Elissa Gershowitz | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2022

(2) K-3 Del Rizzo (My Beautiful Birds, rev. 3/17) continues the story of Syrian refugee Sami, this time through the eyes of his new neighbor, Moe (short for ­Maureen). As Moe walks down her street calling out greetings in ­Italian, Spanish, and English, she notices a new family moving in. "We know it can be hard to move someplace new." She drops off welcome gifts--­mittens, a bird feather, and a mug for hot chocolate--and shyly introduces herself to Sami at the park. Del Rizzo's illustrations are made with polymer clay and paint, achieving a realistic variety of skin tones and a vibrant, three-­dimensional quality. She uses the clay to create lots of textures, such as the knitting on hats and mittens, as well as natural elements like snowflakes and trees, and she provides varied perspectives. The story is loving and gently paced, with the two children coming together to rescue a cardinal we have already seen in several pictures, each sacrificing a treasure to do it. An author's note includes instructions for making suet bird feeders and pouches woven from twigs for winter bird shelters.

Reviewer: Susan Dove Lempke | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2022

(2) K-3 Life becomes challenging for Liling after her family moves from the rural mountains to a crowded city in China. Without new hùko˘u (residency) papers, she can't go to school, so she spends her days at her parents' workplaces and accompanies them on errands to the market. One day at the park, she's teased for her old red coat and dirty shoes. When Liling meets Qiqi, a girl just like her, they become friends and find comfort and strength in each other. At the end of the story, they walk together, hand in hand, into the park. Evans's pencil and watercolor illustrations use a muted color palette of blues and grays. The cool tone conveys Liling's feelings of disengagement in the city; the girls' bright-hued coats--red for Liling and yellow for Qiqi--are uplifting pops of color. Evans also makes use of varied perspectives to enhance the narrative and mood of the story. In a double-page spread where Liling first sees Qiqi from her balcony, viewers look down at the scene from above, observing the special connection between the characters. Both sad and hopeful, this tale shows the value of finding strength in true friendship. It is important to note that the story reflects only part of the reality of life in modern China, and readers should see the author's note to get a better idea of the big picture. A helpful glossary precedes the text.

Reviewer: | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022

(2) K-3 Sometimes the concept of home is complicated. The author presents her own story of emigrating from Kuwait as a child and making a new life in a new country. Marwan's Kuwait is a beautiful place "where one hundred butterflies are always in the sky," her ancestors (represented as a school of fish and two bulls with horns) watch over her, and "my aunties hold me close." However, because her father lacks Kuwaiti citizenship, the entire family is considered stateless, and "people say we don't belong here." They end up migrating from one desert to another--from Kuwait to New Mexico--and despite the sadness of missing family, customs, and a native language, Marwan finds new connections and forges a sense of belonging. New Mexico may not have one hundred butterflies, but it has "new people [who] show me I belong." Culturally symbolic watercolor and ink illustrations are detailed and playful and combine realism with fantasy, creating a delightful landscape of home that is rooted in the specificity of place and Marwan's surreal imagination. A lengthy author's note provides crucial context on the problem of statelessness in Kuwait. A nuanced representation of belonging and citizenship that will ring true for many whose sense of home has never been absolute.

Reviewer: Julie Hakim Azzam | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022

(2) K-3 How can a budding skateboard pro navigate being in a new place and leaving his posse behind? Ivan, a brown-skinned, big-afro-wearing skateboarder, has "moves so big, his friends call him EPIC." But without an audience, what good are amazing moves? He tries playing football, soccer, and basketball to fit in, but these are not his jam; Epic fails miserably at each of them. His dad advises him to be as tenacious about finding new buddies as he is about acquiring new moves--and eventually he does make friends. ­Morrison (CSK Illustrator Award winner for R-E-S-P-E-C-T, rev. 7/20) immerses readers in a vibrant urban neighborhood through a diverse group of inhabitants, busy street scenes, and expansive graffiti on some walls; he appeals to skateboarding fans by mentioning such "gnarly tricks" as the "backside flip kick push flaky" and the "50-50 grind." The illustrations dynamic perspectives--­including a view from above the street on which Epic skates and another from underneath his board--along with frequent swoosh lines, emphasize the character's perpetual motion. Elliott and Denmon's A Place Inside of Me (rev. 11/20), a Caldecott Honor book about another dedicated skateboarder, would make an excellent companion read. A lively story that encourages kids to use their strengths and talents to find community.

Reviewer: Michelle H. Martin | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Naoko Stoop. In this bilingual book, a child moving into a new home sees the girl next-door frolicking in the snow and joins her. Speech balloons (the book's only text) contain their simple conversation, starting with "Hello" and the new girl's "Konnichiwa" in response, followed by "Let's play!" and “Asobou!" Many of their words are onomatopoeic: they hear a woodpecker and reply, "Peck peck" / "Kotsu kotsu"; while packing the snow for a snowman they say, "Nade nade" / "Pat pat pat." When they "Shiver shiver" / "Buru buru," it's time to head inside. The girls dry off, fold origami, and have some tea ("Huu huu" / "Blow blow"). Back to playing, they laugh together, and their final words are fittingly the same: "Ha ha ha!" Stoop (Sun and Moon Have a Tea Party, rev. 7/20) uses mixed-media on plywood to create cozy pictures of the children's play, both indoors and out. Inside, the wood is cleverly left bare and used to depict floors; in outdoor scenes the woodgrain, lightly covered, looks like clouds. The characters' perfectly round heads, with simple dots for eyes, resemble those in the books of Gyo Fujikawa, known for her early inclusion of non-white characters; Stoop's Japanese child here befriends a brown-skinned curly-haired girl. Both author and illustrator include notes at the back on their own experiences with language and friendship. Minor quibbles: a pronunciation guide would have been helpful, and the Japanese word hashi appears incorrectly as haji.

Reviewer: Jennifer M. Brabander | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Qin Leng. This follow-up to A Family Is a Family Is a Family brings us to school. "Being the new kid is hard," states a dark-haired child approaching a school building. In response to a question we infer has been asked by a second child, the newcomer asserts, "I can think of better things to ask than if I'm a boy or a girl." One by one, others chime in with what they wish others would ask them. A petite boy wishes people would ask him about the big words he can spell instead of about his small size. A child with a prosthetic leg exclaims, "Ask me what I can do, not what I can't!"--and an illustration shows that child standing ­triumphantly atop a rocky hill, arms stretched high in victory. Each full-bleed spread splits the speaker's perspective in two: on the verso, we see the child joining a growing playground group while the recto gives a peek into their life in class or outside the school gates. With a Quentin Blake–esque liveliness to her lines, Leng's watercolor and ink illustrations capture the intimate details of young children's lives and dreams. At last, the dark-haired "new kid" shares a question that every child wants to be asked: "Hey kid, do you want to play?" With a unanimous spirit of inclusion within its pages, the story urges readers to rethink the way they first encounter others--by starting with an invitation.

Reviewer: Grace McKinney | Horn Book Magazine Issue: November, 2021

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Felicita Sala. Emilia's beloved grandfather gives her a walnut and uses it to tell his immigration story. As a child, he emigrated with his family from Italy. They carried very few belongings, but the boy managed to take a walnut from the tree outside his window, which he planted in a pot upon arrival in his new country. He carried the growing tree with him, transplanting it as needed throughout the years, until, with his new wife, planting it in the backyard of their home. Now, many years later, Emilia, with her grandfather's help, plants and cares for her own walnut sapling, only putting it in the ground after her grandfather's death. The relatively simple text includes many layers--in addition to being an immigration story, it is a family history tale and a story about the passing of a beloved grandparent and the carrying on of that person's legacy. Paquette's emotive writing is strong and clear: "Emilia held her grandfather close for as long as she could. And then she said goodbye." Sala's paintings, in shades of green, gold, and sepia, are equally effective. In them, Emilia and her grandfather are visually connected, often overlapping or framed together by curving lines, bringing intimacy to the tale.

Reviewer: Maeve Visser Knoth | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022

(2) K-3 The book's young narrator, sporting a red beanie, has just moved to the country with his mother and is not thrilled about it. "Nights are too quiet," he complains. "Mornings are too loud." Soon, however, he becomes comfortable in the woods, and notices a red fox that lives nearby. When a forest fire erupts, the boy and his mother evacuate; on a dramatic wordless spread, the fox, along with the other animal denizens of the forest, makes its own escape. Time passes before any of them can return. The child's description of his post-fire home accompanies an illustration of blackened tree trunks with small shoots of green emerging from the forest floor: "While things don't look like they did before, the forest knows what to do after a fire." The final page-turn reveals the mother planting a sapling while the child carries wood to frame their new house, noting "and so do we." Despite the serious and timely topic (with wildfires becoming increasingly common and more severe in the American West due to climate change), Popovici's lean text and gentle cartoon-style paintings keep the tone suitable for young readers. The child, fox, and fire are visually connected by the color red (also used very effectively on the textured endpapers) so the fire becomes part of the forest rather than a terrifying interloper. Adults may question why the family rebuilds on the same site, using traditional wood construction, but the child audience will understand that families, both human and fox, can thrive after tragedy. An appended author's note and "More About Wildfires" page provide more detail.

Reviewer: Maeve Visser Knoth | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2021

(2) K-3 Illustrated by André Ceolin. After moving to a "new home" in the southeastern United States, Rocio finds herself missing her "other home" in Central America, where she'd lived with her grandmother, aunt, and cousins. She visits there in her imagination, recalling everything from the "smell of spicy peppers and burnt sugar" to the "soft rustling of piñatas that hung from the ceiling" of her abuela's small grocery store. In her picture-book debut, Sanchez (We Are Not from Here, rev. 9/20) evokes, with rich sensory detail, Rocio's memories of lovingly prepared food (Abuela's warm tortillas smell "sweet and fresh, like the damp earth after a soft rain"), and Ceolin's (Hanukkah Hamster, rev. 11/18) illustrations feature abundant star motifs and geometric patterns inspired by the traditional textiles Abuela wears. But it's Abuela herself that Rocio misses most of all. Her longing for her beloved grandmother is palpable, as is her delight when a package, covered in stamps, arrives on the morning of her birthday. It's not spoiling the surprise to say that it was sent by her abuela, "con mucho amor." While the contents of the package are satisfying, Rocio's emotional connection to Abuela--one that spans the star-­sprinkled sky--remains central to this story. Happily, Rocio finds a way to send lots of love back home to Abuela, too. Concurrently published in Spanish as Con mucho amor.

Reviewer: Anamaría Anderson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Ann James. A child named Sam says a fond and very thorough goodbye to their house in the country ("This is the last time I'll fish in this river"; "This is the last time I'll swing on this gate"; "Goodbye, old house. Goodbye"), then reverses the process upon arrival at a new house in the city ("This is the first time I'll jump over these cracks"; "This is the first time I'll push open this gate"; "Hello, new house, hello"). The symmetry of Wild's text, with its mirror-imaged farewells and greetings, is effective and emotionally satisfying. Unlike most picture books about moving, this one has a distinctly upbeat vibe, thanks mainly to James's striking illustrations, "brush and ink drawings with acrylic gouache backgrounds combined digitally." Even as Sam says goodbye to beloved places and animals and activities and individual rooms of the old house, the mood conveyed in the illustrations is predominantly light and airy, with Sam's body language occasionally feeling almost Sendakian, à la A Hole Is to Dig. The child dances in doorways, smiles at a pony while giving a goodbye pat (and the pony appears to smile back), etc. With the protagonist portrayed in black-and-white against richly colored backgrounds, the viewer's eye always knows where to focus. Details are childlike and relatable. For instance, in the old bedroom we see poignant writing on the wall: "Sam lives/lived here." In the new house we see Sam taking ownership, happily sprawled across the "comfy window seat" of the new bedroom and writing, "Sam lives here now."

Reviewer: Martha V. Parravano | Horn Book Magazine Issue: November, 2021

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Rafael López. Woodson and López (The Day You Begin, rev. 9/18) follow a brother and sister over the course of a challenging year spent mainly indoors: "That was the year we learned to fly." In Woodson's poetic text, the children's grandmother suggests that they use their imaginations to cure their boredom: "Lift your arms, / close your eyes, / take a deep breath, / and believe in a thing." Later, when they move across town and are faced with the challenge of making new friends, their much-practiced skills help them succeed. The book reminds children that imagination is a powerful tool in any situation, and López's colorful, eye-pleasing art enhances this message. Readers also are reminded that they have support from the past: "My grandmother had learned to fly / from the people who came before / They were aunts and uncles and cousins / who were brought here on huge ships / their wrists and ankles cuffed in iron / but, my grandmother said / nobody can ever cuff / your beautiful and brilliant mind." In the accompanying art, the young girl stands with head bowed and her grandmother's hand on her shoulder. Images of ships on the sea are silhouetted against her afro, and away flies a brightly colored bird, now unshackled. In an author's note, Woodson discusses how Virginia ­Hamilton's The People Could Fly: American Black Folktales inspired her to write stories.

Reviewer: Nicholl Denice Montgomery | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Rachel Wada. "Father, is all of the world a refugee camp?" In sensitive and empowering words, Yang speaks about historical truths and shares her own childhood story with readers. Born to Hmong refugees in Thailand, little Kalia has never seen the world beyond the gate of the Ban Vinai Refugee Camp. To answer her question, Kalia's father climbs with her to the top of the tallest tree--from where she can see the view beyond the camp's gate and "the place where the sky meets the earth." Kalia now knows that the world is bigger than anything one can imagine, and that no gates or fences should hold her back from experiencing it. Wada's mixed-media and digital illustrations employ a muted palette of yellows, browns, and military greens that perfectly complements the narrative. Details are clearly depicted to reflect camp life from little Kalia's point of view--watching a "bald rooster," riding a large dog, "crouch[ing] low" to look for fruit. The author's note, which includes a real-life photo of ­four-year-old Yang and her father high in the tree, shares a good amount of autobiographical detail plus some historical background. A list of Hmong words and a map of Thailand are also appended.

Reviewer: | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2022

(2) K-3 Dat, the young Asian protagonist of this involving picture book, has traveled far to reach his new country and is about to start his first day of school. His mother warns, "When people speak it will sound like gibberish," and encourages him to listen and do the best he can. Dat eagerly dives in, but he is quickly overwhelmed by the constant barrage of incomprehensible babble "in his books and in the air." In the schoolyard, he is surprised by one of his classmates, who is also taking a moment apart from the group. She grabs him by the hand and shows him how to seesaw and jump rope (the international language of child's play!). Back in class, the interminable day drags on, but on the bus ride home, the girl ­reappears. She pulls out paper and markers, and they begin to draw together. Vo, who was himself a child refugee from Vietnam, does a brilliant job of conveying the disorientation and alienation that children face in these situations, and does so as much with his mixed-media and digital art as he does with his spare text. Dat is depicted as a vibrant, fully realized, full-color figure, who is thrust into a black-and-white world filled with exaggerated and sometimes surreal cartoon monsters. The "gibberish" appears as lengthy strings of emoji-like drawings, with each letter of the alphabet having a distinct icon. A creative and effective dramatization of the plight of new language learners.

Reviewer: Luann Toth | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2022