(2) K-3 Illustrated by Brizida Magro. This tender, deeply empathetic story, narrated by a child grieving the loss of a sibling, offers a moving exploration of grief's many layers. "There's a hole in the bottom bunk where my brother, Matty, used to sleep," the narrator reflects on the first page. The illustrator visualizes this hole as a black scribble drifting throughout the house, a metaphor for grief that captures its persistent, all-encompassing nature. The hole appears beside Mom and Dad as they try to carry on and, affectingly, over their hearts as the family sits together at dinner. "I hate these holes," the narrator confesses, as classmates react in varying ways: some ignore them, some fail to notice. A friend, Nora, takes a different approach. Curious about the hole, she stays by the protagonist's side as her friend descends into it, spotlighted in the emotional illustrations by a warm yellow light. The story reaches a cathartic turning point when the child collapses in sorrow, shouting out, "I miss you, Matty." In the quiet that follows, Nora encourages her friend to share stories. These recollections bring them to vivid life, later brightening the mood at the family dinner table and offering a sense of connection and healing amidst their shared loss.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2025

(1) K-3 Illustrated by Evan Turk. This cento (a poem composed of passages from other writers) pays reverent tribute to the natural world, weaving together the words of poets such as Emily Dickinson, Mary Oliver, Philip Larkin, Harriett Annie Wilkins, and many more. As Hall's closing author's note explains, she began crafting these lines early in the COVID-19 pandemic, wandering the woods and recalling "the words of poets whose works I had studied in my school days." The book opens with echoes of Edward Thomas and Robert Frost: "Into the forest, dark and deep / With miles to go before I sleep." Sarojini Naidu's "Here, O my heart" melds with David Wagoner's "The forest breathes. Listen," becoming: "Here, O my heart, just listen!" Hall's mastery of rhythm and flow is mesmerizing, transforming the borrowed words into a cohesive and enchanting experience that stands on its own before readers encounter the back matter's guide to "The Poets and the Lines They Wrote." Turk's color-saturated, light-infused illustrations bring the book-length poem to life, portraying a child with a walking stick navigating woods teeming with bears, beavers, wolves, fawns, and other creatures. Lost momentarily in the "pathless woods," the child finds solace as the leaves "speak bliss to me." A striking palette of teals, coppers, purples, and midnight blues immerses readers in this enchanting exploration of nature and verse.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2025

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Beth Krommes. From sunrise to moonrise, a welcoming, cumulative narrative leads readers through a day on a farm. The opening illustration features a cozy, rolling landscape, where a stone wall and a "hedge that grew and grew" surround the farm; these "guard the yard. / The barn does, too." As the story and the day unfold, various creatures—deer, rabbits, lizards—quietly enter the yard one by one through a gap in the wall. Playful repetition brings attention to the animals, making them the true stars of the story. Humans are seen but are secondary, emphasizing the wild world around the farm. The late Howes's beautifully rendered descriptions of the natural world come to life through Krommes's signature scratchboard illustrations in a warm, earthy palette; they add a unique depth to each spread. Toward the end, an indoor bedtime scene compares life outside the window with a peaceful end to a child's day, offering a comforting conclusion.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2025

(2) 4-6 Illustrated by Molly Brooks. Color by Marta Todeschini. In this follow-up to graphic novel Growing Pangs (rev. 7/22), newly twelve-year-old Katie navigates the turbulence of puberty, which she likens to an "adulthood alarm" constantly going off: "Growing up was starting to feel like it was more about alarms than adventures." Katie, a churchgoing homeschooler who sees a therapist about her "buzzing thoughts" (anxiety and OCD), faces the onset of shaving, bras, and her first period, while her two best friends (who are siblings) temporarily move away. Most confusing for Katie is her attraction to Grace, a fellow cast member in a production of Annie, which conflicts with the messages she hears at church. She also wrestles with the church's "totally sexist" views on modesty. The book captures the intensity of early adolescence with the "thu-thump" refrain of Katie's heartbeat when she's with Grace. The illustrations, with expressive line work and a spectrum of reds, convey the warmth and depth of Katie's emotions through blushing cheeks and enamored glances. On one memorable page, radiant Grace fills most of the space while Katie, in a panel below, gazes rapturously: "thu-thump." Katie's wish to have "stayed eleven" transforms, through self-reflection and the influence of a few women in her life, into a newfound tenacity and the realization that, when she's older, she can "find a place to be myself." A respectful portrayal of an adolescent girl learning to think independently.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2025

(2) K-3 This story, dedicated to "all the Amazing Illustrators" who are "the real AI," follows a daydreaming robot in the bustling factory where he works. The robot feels out of place: an early illustration shows the chip used to create him covered in drops of paint. Though he has "big, colorful, and grand" dreams, he doesn't know how to express them. When he accidentally wanders outside, he's surprised to see humans, just as busy as robots: "Everyone was in a hurry." The robot finds joy in a museum, where he observes a child in a red beret. Later, in a forest, he meets the same child painting and picks up a paintbrush for the first time. He falls in love with the visual arts, though he learns that both making and describing art are "not easy." Eventually, he shares his newfound passion with his robot friends, and in the end, they're all creating original art -- flipping the usual perception of AI, which is often seen as merely mimicking human creativity. Biedrzycki, celebrating the universal power of art and self-expression, leans on monochromatic and even sepia tones for most of the story, with splashes of vivid colors to represent the robot's artistic expression in the pencil and digitally rendered illustrations. Imagination knows no bounds.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2025

(2) PS A child explores the outdoors on a sunny day, observing living things all around: a tall, verdant tree and animals on land, in the air, and underwater. Author Daniel gives voice to each of these living entities: "I'm afraid," says a leaf in the air. The tree from which the leaf fell tells it, however, that it's not alone. A bird nestled in the same tree notes: "I could fall," and the wind replies, as the yellow bird soars through the air: "I will lift you." And so it goes: the stream provides water to a thirsty skunk; a fish provides camaraderie to a lonely crab; the creek cools a hot bear; the grass comforts a worried deer; and more. Daniel stresses the interdependence of living things, stating in a short appended note that "every single living thing depends on another living thing" (such as, for instance, the story's "bored" mushrooms that accept a mouse's invitation to play). The illustrations in thick acrylics are inventive: in one spread, a butterfly's wing, adorned with a pupil-like shape, overlaps with the child's left eye as that eye looks at a snail needing encouragement, and in the final spread, the child sleeps under a full moon while dreaming of creatures. James personifies the animals, many of them with tears and frowns. It's an empathetic primer for the youngest of readers on the interconnectedness of all living things on our planet.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2024

(2) K-3 Translated by Laura Watkinson. Illustrated by Herma Starreveld. In this Dutch import, a community of birds comes to terms with the death of one of their own. In the wordless opening spread, a lifeless bird lies face up on the ground. A long-beaked bird looks on disconsolately and then states: "Bird is dead." More gather and experience both denial and shock: "Are you sure he's not sleeping?" and "What? He was still alive yesterday!" Some of the creatures cry; some argue over who will bury him; some mourn the loss; and one even shares, "I thought he was a pest." They bury Bird and say goodbye, absorbing the hard reality of doing so forever and that this means "for always," although one acknowledges that he will live in their heads "forever." This decidedly unsentimental look at death is set on a rolling terrain that could be anywhere; the birds traverse it as if on a stage. Grim humor punctuates the narrative, including at the burial: one bird sings "tra-la-la" and responds, after being chastised, that Bird was always "chirpy" and would probably like to hear it at his funeral. Starreveld renders the avian bodies in patchwork colors and patterns and anthropomorphizes them: at the book's close, they share tea, worms, and cake under lanterns they've hung from the leafless branches of trees. This plainspoken and candid lens on death is a conversation-starter. See also Brown and Robinson's The Dead Bird (rev. 5/16) and Yumoto and Sakai's The Bear and the Wildcat (rev. 3/23) for similar approaches to children's natural curiosity about the subject of death.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2024

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Hannah Salyer. In Ms. Lee's class, students sit in darkness with their heads down on their desks, eyes closed, listening to recorded sounds of the rainforest. They imagine themselves as veeries, "sort of like robins but smaller." Their teacher narrates the birds' journey, starting in Brazil and ending in the class's home of Wisconsin. One child, drawn into the lesson, narrates the quiet text, but Fleischman also provides glimpses into other students' thoughts as they find parallels between the veeries' story and their own lives. (The veery feels "jumpy and can't sit still"; one child thinks, "That's just what my mom said about me last night.") They learn about the birds' flight patterns, biology, and eating habits, as well as weather influences, human-made dangers, and threats from predators: "Schoolkids have bullies. Veeries have raptors. Except raptors eat you." Students and teachers alike will be inspired by Ms. Lee and her compassionate approach to fostering curiosity and empathy through nature. Salyer, who gracefully depicts the birds soaring, captures both their movement and students' imaginations with beguiling patterns in a palette of rich azure, warm teal, and eye-popping copper tones. In one striking spread, illustrating the veery's night vision, a bird's eye overlaps with a child's, eyes closed, who thinks: "I have big, dark eyes, too." Appended with notes about tracking migrations, paying attention to birds in one's own neighborhood, and more.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2025

(2) PS Illustrated by Laura Dronzek. This adventure of discovery kicks off on the title-page spread with an adult and child walking a dog. The story's second-person voice immediately engages readers: "If you found a little ball on the grass and it was there for days, you could take it home." What about a flower? An empty box? A kitten? Each one ends up at the child's home. Henkes constructs the text conditionally, which will spark many conversations with young children about what is fair for the taking: if the ball was there for multiple days; if the flower sprung forth from a crack in the sidewalk; if the box was on the curb as garbage; and if the kitten was scared and "didn't belong to anyone and it didn't have a mother and you got permission from everyone," you would be "lucky" to take them home. The story taps into the inherent caretaking tendencies of many young children: the kitten is safe in a new home, sleeping in the warm box, playing with the red ball and dog. In nearly every spread, Dronzek's brightly colored illustrations in multicolored borders appear on the recto; the text, perfect for emerging readers, is placed on the verso. Tableaux, dominated by simple square shapes, are reduced to their essentials: ball, flower, box, kitten -- all "happy" in a warm home because the child took the time to notice them.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2024

(2) K-3 Translated by Lawrence Schimel. Originally conceived for a project produced by the Palestinian Museum and inspired by the traditional embroidery of Palestinian culture, this Argentinian import honors unseen worlds. The mixed-media art relies primarily on highly textured and detailed embroidery to tell the tale of a girl whose mother scolds her for losing things, such as her keys. Leilah, like her grandmother, is sensitive to the dreamlike existence of the "Other Side and its mysterious inhabitants." Isol depicts this as a world embroidered in red thread, and superimposed upon it in blue threads are the creatures that live there; delightfully, she also depicts the back sides of these embroidered cloths to emphasize the "much stranger" other world "just behind ours." She renders the startling, eye-catching forest with black threads, for example. Leilah knows that the holes that lead to the Other Side, including one in the forest, are responsible for her lost items, so she sews up the holes with a needle and thread -- which leads to unexpected consequences. Isol tells the story in four parts and an epilogue, the last introducing the otherworldly Lexis and Rolf, who find a surprising use for the lost keys. A richly imagined tale told with loving care.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2024

(2) K-3 Shinbi is a ghost who doesn't care for haunting houses. She prefers sitting on her favorite rock and stargazing. When a shooting star flies through the sky, she wishes for a friend. One day, she sees a "Hi" on her favorite rock and leaves a response. Its recipient is Greem, the shadow formed by the same rock during the daylight hours, who also longs for a friend. The two leave messages for each other, primarily about constellations, something Greem has never seen. Greem thinks the Big Dipper looks more like a whale, and Shinbi says Cancer looks less like a crab and more like a child doing a handstand. When a "star parade" adorns the night sky, it provides enough light for them to finally meet, "pouring their hearts out to each other" for one glorious night. Min's depiction of Shinbi is the sort of ghost that won't frighten children: she's composed of rounded lines and rosy cheeks. Greem is shaped precisely the same but filled with the dark colors of night. Most of the richly colored spreads are full bleed; the occasional use of borders accelerates the action. The sky filled with shooting stars is particularly dazzling with its sparkling, warm colors against the darkness.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2024

(1) PS First published in Portugal, this wordless book celebrates -- with abundant style -- the blossoming of spring. Most spreads convey the action in a series of four or six small, square panels. In the opening ones, an aerial perspective reveals, after clouds part, a neighborhood of homes. Inside one of those homes is a child who sees the sun is shining and bolts outside. She takes flight and visits a forest teeming with life. Moreira's tableaux -- with simple shapes and a palette of primarily reds, blues, greens, and browns -- are filled with clever surprises. The change in season is indicated via a calendar (a "30" page falls away to reveal a "1"), along with a newscaster on television whose speech bubble contains a sun. The protagonist's boundless energy propels the story. For example, in one early spread, the child's body, exaggeratedly elongated, winds around the living room furniture, seeking an exit to the outdoors; she's so eager to get outside that her body flies headlong toward the door -- readers see her from a side view -- only to be halted by a parent who reminds her to put on her shoes. It is playful and exceptionally funny moments like this that make the story sing; many preschoolers will relate. Throughout, changes in scale accentuate the child's wondrous forest discoveries, which includes a grasshopper crooning into a microphone. A breath of fresh air, in more ways than one.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2024

(2) K-3 Kat and Ari love baking cookies with Grandpa but struggle with the wait while the treats are in the oven. So they build a time machine to skip ahead to when the cookies are done -- but they miscalculate and arrive to find them already eaten. Determined to enjoy the cookies, they hop back into the time machine to try again. By mistake, they visit a time when they were much younger; in fact, their "very first cookie time with Grandpa!" They watch their younger selves with joy, realizing it had been "a perfect day." Next they end up in the future and even find a self-serve "Cookie Time" kiosk, sans humans: "NO WAITING," the sign says. That's when they realize that the key ingredient of cookie time is what's missing: Grandpa. They head back to the present for a big hug -- and cookies, of course. Sima has fun with the story's imaginative details: the children build the time machine out of a cardboard box, a spring, and their dog's ball. The future (where "everything seemed different") is filled with pastel-colored windmills, houses on legs, and robotic pets; the twist ending will please dog lovers. A warm intergenerational story about cherishing the present moment and realizing what's important.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2024

(2) Translated by Vineet Lal. Simler takes on the perspectives of twenty-seven creatures who share the intricacies of their homes in this eye-catching French import. Each entry features a poem about, and illustration of, the animal and its habitat. The playful poem titles include a comet moth's "Silky Apartment," a European fan worm's "Tubular Condo," and the common tailorbird's "Haute Couture Bedchamber." Creatures relate their stories with style: the satin bowerbird tells readers that its home is built from sticks and twigs, which Simler describes as "an arched avenue." It paints its walls with berry juice, adding, "I have a real flair for home decoration." Readers leave with facts about the natural world, such as that the red ovenbird takes several weeks to construct its "Mud Bungalow," that the elf owl is the smallest owl in the world, and that the silk that connects the walls of the "Leafy Fortress" of a weaver ant is spun by young larvae. Simler's highly textured, jewel-tone illustrations give readers detailed peeks into the animals' homes. The elf owl stares directly at readers from its perch on a cactus plant, and a Sumatran orangutan, about to succumb to sleep, gazes out from a "mattress of fresh leaves" in the forest. These vivid, sensory poems could serve as superb classroom writing prompts, and back matter (including a glossary and recommended resources) provides additional information.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2024

(2) PS Illustrated by Samantha Cotterill. This companion to Snyder's 2021 Listen encourages children to find visual patterns in our "VAST world." In vivid three-dimensional scenes, Cotterill depicts a redheaded pair: a child, sketchbook in hand, and a pregnant parent. Snyder writes in a direct, second-person voice: "But what if you stop, LOOK around, and get a closer view?" When the world "feels like too much" or is hard to "make sense of," look for patterns: stripes, repeating shapes, opportunities for repetitive movements ("Step, HOP, step, HOP"), zigzags, circles, checkerboards, polka dots, spots, and more. Cotterill fills her hand-built, mixed-media dioramas with patterns for viewers to find as the characters visit a farmers' market, a dock, and a forest. She keeps the compositions busy; that's the point. Once we find the patterns in her textured, bustling scenes, a sense of order grows from all the details. Snyder's text is particularly evocative during the book's close, noting that patterns connect us like "notes in a lullaby" as parent and child wrap themselves in a patterned quilt on the front porch. Back matter describes various types of patterns (fractal, branching, alternating, etc.) as well as a few activities related to making and locating patterns (the creation of sound patterns and taking "pattern walks").

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2024

(2) K-3 In a rousing adventure dedicated to the author's grandfather, who "sailed the seven seas," readers meet Gabriel, an elderly elephant who lives with his sea cat, Milou. Gabriel, whose face has "as many lines as the sea has waves," lives by the harbor, remembering the old days. Vere then rewinds the clock to visit Gabriel's boyhood, during which he revered the crew of creatures who worked on the lifeboat. (No humans here. All characters are anthropomorphized animals.) They tell Gabriel to return when he's older, but when he does, he's too large to fit in the boat. Disappointed but undeterred, he constructs his own lifeboat, built "for strength. Built for him!" In this boat, Gabriel saves a fleet during a disastrous storm. Vivid copper and rose colors dominate the palette, punctuated by cool blues and grays. Vere animates the story with seafaring language ("Heave away, haul away, heave-ho, heave-HO!") and bustling verbs ("The wind whipped and whistled. The waves turned into giants, tumbling, lashing, and crashing"). Vere describes Gabriel's determination to build a boat that can carry him as "an important thought...There is only one thing I want to do...So I will do it!" The gentle reminder to readers to pursue their passions, no matter the odds against them, makes this endearing tale an inspiring one.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2024

(2) PS While her father does yard work, Madeleine stands still, arms outstretched. She's pretending to be a tree, "because a tree gets to stay outside all day long!" When Dad agrees to join in the imaginative play ("only for a minute"), a baby owl falls asleep on his shoulder, a robin builds a nest in his hair, a spider spins a web in his armpit, a squirrel slides an acorn into his shirt pocket, and more. Then a kite flies into his face, rain starts to fall, and it gets dark. Dad insists that they go inside, but then the baby owl on his shoulder wakes up. It joins its mother in a real tree, and father and child bond over witnessing this moment in nature. Madeleine's goal has been achieved too: "We got to stay outside all day long!" Agee keeps the compositions and dialogue uncluttered and unfussy ("Dad, you are a very good tree!"), and children will delight in the visual hyperbole--the growing number of creatures who pile on Dad. This entertaining story expresses what children know so well: playing outside can be filled with surprises.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2023

(2) PS Illustrated by Christian Robinson. This conversation-starting picture book presents a series of questions and invites children to supply the answers. The first spread asks viewers to count the number of animals pictured, with Robinson depicting a creature-filled tree and a bear and elephant at its base. The next spread, featuring a tiger partially concealed by jungle leaves, adds an element of delicious mischief: "How many animals can you not see in this one, because they're hiding from the tiger?" There's much more mischief: someone has just robbed a bank ("which of these ladies" did it?); bandits bury a treasure (and "what would you do if you found it?"); there's a mysterious beast in a bathtub (what kind?); and more. Some questions give simple options, one spread showing three sleeping children with Barnett's text asking which one dreams of peaches. Others are open-ended, making them a good match for creative writing prompts. For instance, a woman stands atop a cliff next to the question: "Who is she waiting for?" Robinson's textured mixed-media collages provide just enough detail and sometimes pose visual questions that the text doesn't even touch on. How, for instance, did the snake get in the tennis shoe pictured on the cover? Even the endpapers are a delight, Robinson turning everyday objects (a banana, a mug) into question marks. This is creative, interactive picture-book fun, without question.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2023

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Evan Turk. On her eighth birthday, Maude buries a red tin box under a dogwood tree (only she knows what's inside), making a promise to herself. Decades pass. Maude, now an older woman, remembers the box but not its contents. One afternoon she is "seized with a feeling" and invites her granddaughter on a long drive to her old home. The granddaughter is filled with questions ("what's inside the box?"), and they both wonder if they'll be able to find it. They do indeed, and Maude is overcome with emotions as she explores the box's contents and then shares stories from her childhood on the drive back home. Burgess's (Drawing on Walls, rev. 1/21) detailed text is filled with evocative sensory descriptions: "At the foot of the flowering dogwood, in a soft spot where she once discovered a fallen nest, the earth seemed to whisper, 'Here.'" A vivid coppery-red and brilliant golds dominate Turk's (Hello, Moon, rev. 9/22) palette, and he fills the book with intriguing perspectives and distinctive textures. Burgess's warm intergenerational tale leaves Maude's specific memories, the meaning of each item in the red tin box, and Maude's promise to herself a mystery to readers, thereby inviting them to imagine the contours of her childhood and perhaps even consider what they'd put in their own red tin boxes.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2023

(2) PS Hungry baby bear wakes up early and wanders off alone. When a delicious red fruit falls from a tree and lands on his head, he decides to search for more. The tree is exceedingly tall, but that doesn't stop him. On his way up, he spots what he thinks is the red fruit, but page-turns reveal other surprises: a caterpillar, a squirrel, a beehive. At the top of the tree, he's mesmerized by what he thinks is the biggest red fruit of all: the setting sun. Eun fills this Korean import with simple sentences ("I want to eat more"), perfect for pre- and emerging readers. Playful text orientation captures bear's daunting climb: the letters of "Going up" are set in a vertical line. The use of a repeated "Oh!" for many of the creatures the bear sees on his climb emphasizes his abundant curiosity. Vibrant pops of red for the elements in nature that baby bear discovers punctuate an otherwise monochromatic palette in textured illustrations with relaxed lines that look like they were done in charcoals. Thinking the setting sun is "a huge red fruit," baby bear leaps to grab it but instead falls toward the ground, passing all his red discoveries on the way down. Thankfully, an adult bear is there to catch him. A new discovery, this one yellow, hints at another enchanting adventure.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: November, 2023