(2) K-3 "This is a story that will have a happy ending, so don't worry too much!" With that reassuring front-matter spoiler, Brantley-Newton launches into her tale about a little singing goat. Conflict is immediately introduced, as those around her despise the goat's voice and dislike her penchant for climbing. Seemingly oblivious to others' annoyance, she seeks adventure, only to fall into a deep, dry well. Making good use of the book's materiality, Brantley-Newton offers an illustration that must be rotated ninety degrees for proper viewing, showing the goat at the bottom of the well and only the neighbors' and animals' feet visible up top. They've assembled after hearing her piteous cries but quickly abandon trying to save her, deciding instead to "give her a decent burial." This alarming twist is softened by the established light and humorous tone of text and illustrations. "CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?" reads the all-caps print in bold colors as shovelfuls of dirt rain down on a close-up image of the beleaguered, incredulous goat. She's also clever and resourceful as she shakes off the dirt and packs it down, singing to herself, "Shake it off. Pack it under!" A sequence of wordless panel illustrations shows the dirt rising under her hooves until she emerges, dirty but victorious, having gained new respect from her neighbors. The potential for the story (reminiscent of the parable of the donkey in the well) to be read metaphorically is encouraged by Brantley-Newton's dedication to "every child who has been counted out" and her author's note about overcoming childhood struggles with stuttering, dyslexia, and bullying.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2024

(2) PS Illustrated by Leah Hong. The passage of time can seem painfully slow to young children who haven't yet mastered how to measure hours, days, weeks, months, or years. This is especially true when a child is waiting for something to happen after a certain duration of time. In Conklin's text, a little girl awaits her mother's return from a weeklong business trip. Her father and baby sibling are home with her, and they cross off days on a calendar and fill their time with trips to the local pool and with window shopping in town. Throughout, Hong's watercolors create a reassuring depiction of the child's family and environment, with a calming, cool palette of mostly blue and green settings and soft, rounded forms. This comforting visual atmosphere is reassuring as the girl repeatedly appears dejected despite her father's loving care. While anticipating her mom's return is her main concern, other kinds of waiting underscore her longing. Standing in line at the pool or bemoaning how long it takes to get big enough to ride a two-wheeler, she often pulls on her father's arm, as if willing him to change his pace would hurry time along. Small pleasures punctuate the waiting time, and the family's joyful reunion provides a satisfying conclusion, augmented by a new bicycle as the cherry on top of this sweet story.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2024

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Jackie Traverse. Daniel's (Sometimes I Feel like a Fox; Sometimes I Feel like a River) latest offering invites readers to commune with trees. Short first-person verses assign attributes to twelve different trees ("Sometimes I feel like a maple, / full and most generous... / Sometimes I feel like a birch, / smooth and fresh, anew"), following the cycle of the year from early spring to late winter. Traverse's lush acrylic and gouache illustrations never depict a tree in its entirety, with the tops always breaking the edge of the page. This choice suggests that art cannot fully capture the trees' majesty and en-courages readers to imagine what lies beyond the confines of the page, reinforcing Daniel's core concept that there is more to trees than meets the eye. Back matter offers thumbnail images of each tree, restating their names and highlighting the attributes Daniel's verses assigned to them--generosity for the maple, optimism for the birch, and so on. A closing author's note begins, "Like my Algonquin ancestors, I believe that trees are ­sentient beings with spirits who can feel things," prompting readers to reflect on what they, in turn, feel as they consider this Indidenous perspective and how it inspired this book.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2024

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Stephanie Graegin. A lesson in mindfulness is couched in a cozy story about a much-anticipated visit with extended family. At first, the child protagonist struggles with a seemingly interminable "today": "Today stretches long...when you're counting weeks to summer, counting days to your trip, counting hours until you'll see Pop-pop and your cousins again." With these lines, Snyder cleverly initiates a second-person narration to align readers with the protagonist. Then, when the child's parents finally stop their "yak-yak-yak[ing] with the neighbors," the family drives to a picturesque lake house, where Pop-pop, cousins, and other relatives await. Graegin's rendering of the peaceful, idyllic setting and her matter-of-fact depiction of an affectionate, multiracial family are warm and welcoming. Now time races by as the child frolics in the lake with cousins and later watches fireflies dot the yard, visually echoed by a string of fairy lights. A wasp sting is the only trouble spot to mar this happy, fleeting day, but grownups and sympathetic cousins ease the child's pain. Fireworks cap off "the today you've been waiting for," and then, staving off sorrow at book's end, closing text reminds the child and readers alike that our favorite days can continue as "a memory you can visit again and again." Thoughtful back matter offers tips for "appreciating the here and now" and using positive memories to ease anxiety and worries.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2024

(1) K-3 Salmieri delivers a moving intergenerational story using opposites as its central conceit. Opening pages show a view of Earth from space, reading: "In the dark sky floats a bright planet." The page-turn zooms in on a seashore "where wet waves crash on a dry stretch of beach." Next, there's a city, whose characters are rendered in colored pencil with a sketchy, gestural style. These include "a small person in a big chair," the protagonist of the story. She is a toddler who appears Asian, with dark hair and peachy-tan skin. Salmieri wisely gives the character signature green clothing, a color symbolic of growth, so that readers can recognize her as she changes throughout the book, from child to teen to professional scientist and woman with a family of her own, all the while incorporating opposites that reflect her interests and experiences ("a loud concert in a quiet field...thick books made up on thin sheets of paper"). At the end, the green-clad woman, her dark hair now white, is shown with a baby in her lap, looking at "an old photo in a new frame / [that] Shows a picture of a small person in a big chair." It's an immensely satisfying, full-circle conclusion.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2023

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Elizabeth Zunon. This picture-book biography is a fascinating introduction to Ghanaian artist El Anatsui and his innovative artistic process. Early pages present Anatsui's childhood love of artmaking in the British colony of the Gold Coast. When he was a teenager, in 1957, his country achieved independence as the nation of Ghana, and Goldberg stirringly writes, "With this new freedom, he felt a shift." Anatsui's own words follow: "We could decide to do things on our own terms." Words and pictures guide readers to see how liberation on this national scale translated into Anatsui's artistic quest to freely express himself by experimenting with diverse media and developing new techniques. Zunon's (I Am Farmer, rev. 1/19; Grandpa Cacao, rev. 5/19) use of paint and cut-paper collage is particularly well suited to depicting Anatsui's life and artistry; it echoes his own evolving process of using found materials and assembling them in his artwork. Throughout, the illustrations' style is largely realistic, and shifts in visual perspective invite the reader to home in on pivotal moments. For example, when Anatsui finds a discarded bag of bottle tops at the side of the road, Zunon spotlights him holding one. The next spread eschews background detail to show Anatsui's hands manipulating the bottle tops as he develops a technique for creating the massive, fabric-like sculptures that brought him international acclaim. Back matter provides additional context and sources while inviting readers to get their own hands involved in creating art.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Marjolaine Perreten. Pauvre Pauline! The eldest of three (soon to be four) children in a lively bilingual (French/English) household, she needs a reprieve from the family chaos. Cozy setting details such as family photos and comfy, rounded forms make her home feel like a loving one in Perreten's busy paneled cartoon-style ink drawings, but Pauline longs for a place that's "just mine." She finds sanctuary in a closet under the stairs. "Here, I have my cushions, my books by the ­Countess of Ségur, my cacti, my glass marble, and above all...silence!" Inspired by her books, she imagines fantastic adventures but grows lonesome and worries that no one realizes where she is. Instead of immediately joining her noisy family, Pauline concocts a plan to hop aboard a ship to visit her grandmother in France. Before she can stow away, however, her mother invites her to work in the garden. The flowers will bloom in the hues of the French tricolor, but it's her mother's undivided attention that truly entices Pauline to feel that she's in the right place after all.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: November, 2022

(1) K-3 Part fish-out-of-water story, part ode to street art, this vibrant offering will grab readers' attention. Narrator Sam is unhappy about a family move that has traded their "fast, busy city life for a small, quiet one far away." Sam, apparently the only Black child in their new classroom, feels out of place and misses the sights and sounds of the city. Then one day Sam spies a graffitied building and is captivated: "It reminded me of home--loud and energetic." Taylor's bold comics-style illustrations provide readers with ample visuals to explore, aligning them with Sam as they take in the graffiti's images and lettering. Upon returning to see the art, however, Sam is crestfallen to discover it's been painted over. Happily, an older cousin shares other places where they can see street art: "tags in the alley, stickers on street signs, stencils on the corner, throw-ups on moving vans, murals in parking lots." They end up at an abandoned factory the town has ­permitted people to paint as they wish, with the eventual goal of transforming it into a community center. Another child invites Sam to join in, her welcome finally making Sam feel at home. Heartfelt back matter reveals the roots of Taylor's own fascination with street art.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: November, 2022

(2) K-3 An unnamed little-boy narrator tells us about his best friend, Marlo. The two of them "do everything together" around their suburban neighborhood, and the illustrations often show them accompanied by a pet dog...until they aren't. One spread shows the narrator approaching Marlo, alone and dejected under a tree. There's a black scribble above the latter's head, indicating anger, as he tells his friend to go away. Unfortunately, the friend doesn't then ask the title's essential question, "What's the matter?" Instead, "I did what any good friend would do...I told a joke"--a dog joke, to be precise. Attentive viewers may then notice the absence of the beloved pet, and understand Marlo's consequent intensification of emotion. The black scribble expands, taking over page-turns, and Marlo disappears into the engulfing darkness. His friend finds him after a frantic search and, after the two are reunited in a fully detailed scene, notices a small mound of dirt with a ball and a dog collar hung on a stick. "I realized that Marlo wasn't just mad, he was sad, too," reads the text, leading to a hug between the friends. While Arnold's story treads familiar thematic territory with its depiction of a child grieving a pet's death, it is distinguished by its trust in readers to discover key parts of the narrative through the illustrations and to contemplate the full meaning of the events and emotions.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2021

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Sam Boughton. Not a formally trained artist, Nek Chand built the famed Rock Garden in Chandigarh, India, "rock by rock," using discarded and found materials. Bradbury's text illuminates the artist's intuitive creative process as a means of easing his feelings of dislocation and homesickness after the Partition of India causes him and other Hindus to depart their ancestral villages, now considered part of the new Muslim nation of Pakistan. "That missing moved from his heart into his hands, and his hands knew what to do," writes Bradbury in the scene where Chand first finds the secluded piece of land on which he builds the garden, with its myriad sculptures, structures, and a "maze of tunnels and paths and arches and stairs." The garden serves as both a monument to the home Chand lost and a secret means of bringing joy and beauty to his new home. When others discover the garden (now grown to cover over forty acres), they are astounded, and the community rallies to save it from officials who threaten to tear it down in the name of development. Throughout, Boughton's illustrations burst with color. The art emulates Chand's use of found materials in its incorporation of newsprint and fabrics into digital collage. The illustrations make several overt references to some of Chand's actual figures, structures, and mosaics, with back-matter pages treating readers to photographs of the Rock Garden and of Chand himself. Pair with Rosenstock and Nivola's The Secret Kingdom (rev. 3/18).

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2021

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Elizabeth Bergeland. When Chuck decides he's "bored enough" to accept his dad's suggestion to start unpacking boxes in their new home, he discovers he's descended from a long line of explorers and scientists. Among them is his grandfather Charles Van Velsor Whipplethorp III, who was a "famed entomologist and world traveler." In comparison, Chuck's data-analyst dad seems rather dull. "The great Whipplethorp men, it appeared, were getting...a lot less great," reads the droll text. Chuck's dad good-naturedly accepts his son's mild disdain and encourages him in his efforts to emulate his grandfather's study of insects. Here, Bergeland's art excels, as Chuck imagines himself shrunk to the size of a beetle while preparing to capture and kill one for display. His second thoughts about the project provoke a creative solution (which wins accolades from his dad) and change his perspective on what it means to be great. Throughout, human characters are rendered in pencil, their forms incorporating the white of the page. Setting and insects, meanwhile, are illustrated with pencil and watercolor. The result is a distinctive style, and the play with scale evokes Kevin Hawkes's depictions of children shrunk, surrounded by mammoth flora, in Paul Fleischman's Weslandia (rev. 3/99). And just as with that book, Brashares's wise, warm tale delivers a lesson about individuality, belonging, and progress without resorting to preachiness.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2021

(2) PS The child in Harris's pencil illustrations first appears as a bright patch of color within a grayscale cityscape and then emerges into a rainbow world of blooms. The pictures have a rich visual texture, vibrant color, and a naive style, which together imply a child as ostensible artist. This effect is well aligned with the playfully inquisitive text, with rhythm and repetition akin to books by Margaret Wise Brown and Ruth Krauss: "Have you ever seen a flower? I mean really...seen a flower? I mean way down in the clover with your face down in a flower?" The text's direct address invites viewers and readers not just to see a flower alongside the child but to engage in a multisensory experience of communing with nature. Have you ever seen a book quite like this? Not likely.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2021

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Qin Leng. As in Sidewalk Flowers (rev. 5/15), author Lawson conceptualized the story for this wordless picture book. Here, words appear only as text within the illustrations (a sign displays the name of the titular shop as Lowell's General Store; a card in the shop window reads "Apartment for Rent"). Leng's watercolor and ink illustrations channel Quentin Blake and David Small in their loose lines and expressive characterization. A gruff shopkeeper lives behind the shop, in a neglected, rundown building, with a child. The overall atmosphere is one of gloom and disconnection: a next-door neighbor often sits on a stoop reading, but everyone keeps to themselves; a stray cat comes begging, only to be shooed away by the shopkeeper. Deft use of panels helps establish the sequence of events as the child offers the cat food and later encourages the shopkeeper to rent the apartment to a young couple (one of whom can be read as nonbinary, as can several other characters in the book). Once they move in, everything begins to brighten and change for the better: the couple spruces up the place and begins helping out in the shop, which visibly softens the shopkeeper's disposition. Even the cat leaves the alley to join the household. A finishing touch is a rainbow flag hung outside the front window, near the shop's sign, which now reads Lowell & Friends General Store, marking it as a space of warmth, community, and yes, pride.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2020

(2) K-3 Luyken's (My Heart, rev. 3/19) latest offering will bolster her strong reputation as an artist skilled in making tangible the intangible qualities of lovingkindness, resilience, and creativity. Here, a tree represents a child's oneness with nature and her sense of self within a warm community of friends. Cover art depicts a child looking up at an apple on a branch, its red form visually echoed in her rosy cheek. Reds, pinks, and golds predominate (though spreads devoted to sky and water serve up a contrasting vivid, cool cerulean) on spreads that continue the visual association between girl and tree. Meanwhile, the spare, lyrical text details their connection, and she is soon accompanied by other children clambering on "branch and trunk," their bodies merging with the colors and forms of the leaves, bark, and blossoms in the softly textured, painterly illustrations. The visual effect underscores the text's message of interconnectedness, expanding to recognize not just "the tree in me" but the sun and sky, too. The overall meditative quality of the book culminates with the acknowledgment of others' oneness with the world.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Kaylani Juanita. The book's protagonist, whom we meet on the cover, is a young girl with light-brown skin brimming with creativity and personality. Endpapers are decorated with pictures of birds drawn in a childlike style, and the title-page spread shows the girl busily sketching as completed drawings cascade down the foreground of the page. "I drew these birds. And a house for every bird. Doo-be-doo," the girl sings to herself in an artistic reverie. Despite the obvious joy she takes in drawing, there are limitations to her creativity. These are revealed as the birds in her pictures become animate and start talking back, resisting the rigid way she's depicted a red house for a red bird, a tall house for a tall bird, and so on. At first alarmed, the girl then exclaims, "But I was trying to help. I made a house for every bird. How was I supposed to KNOW what you like?" Her exaggerated facial expressions and body language are sure to provoke laughter, especially since the reply from the bird she addresses is a succinct "Ask us." The birds have to repeat this good advice a few times, but the girl eventually softens and grows in both her imaginative powers and her empathy. This bighearted picture book delivers a worthwhile message with humor and great respect for young readers.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2021

(2) K-3 Jack doesn't live with his dad full time, and lately when he stays with him, the house seems especially quiet. Although the text never uses the word depressed, this seems an apt description of Dad's state at the beginning of this story, which explores a wide range of emotions through expressive art. Then a green parrot named Jimmy appears on the doorstep during a storm. The bird's presence immediately enlivens the interior scenes of Dad's home with bursts of color and energy. Dad gets a kick out of Jimmy, but Jack feels jealous, and he's annoyed by the parrot's antics. A dreamscape, notable for how much busier and more vibrant it is than previous spreads, shows Jack's bedroom overrun by birds, which he dispatches by opening a window. When Jack awakens, the window actually is open, and a bright green feather rests on the sill. Without waking his dad, Jack puts on a red hoodie (à la Little Red Riding Hood) and ventures out into the rain to search for Jimmy. He doesn't encounter any wolves, but he seems lost and hopeless in an affecting image where his small form huddles at the base of a tree. Then across the spread strides Dad, umbrella aloft. The page-turn shows Dad wrapping Jack in an embrace, and closing scenes offer a hopeful portrayal of how Jimmy has changed their lives and how he might surprise them again.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2021

(1) PS Illustrated by Nina Crews. It seems not even the sky's the limit for the imaginative, adventurous, inventive girls depicted in this inspirational picture book. Johnson's upbeat text, paired with Crews's innovative, exuberant photo collages, delivers a message of encouragement and empowerment. "I always dream," reads the opening line, and the accompanying illustration presents close-ups of three young women of color, their eyes closed, against a patterned background of blues and purples. Subsequent spreads show each girl recounting fantastic dreams, which position them as superheroes "in Supergirl underwear...in flowing scarves and a cowgirl hat." They fly, stand atop tall buildings, and dive deep into oceans; but most importantly, they resist others' warnings, denials, and chastisement about "a girl like you." As the story goes on, more young women join the scenes, offering an ever-broadening depiction of girlhood; the closing spread, featuring headshots of each of the participants, coupled with her own words about her dreams, grounds this interpretation in the lived realities of real children. This is not trite girl-power pablum; it's a rallying cry for girls to reject limitations others might place on them and their dreams.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2020

(2) PS Illustrated by Nathalie Dion. Pendziwol's quiet, first-person text references the natural world to express a wide range of emotions--hope, yes, and also loss, fear, bravery, and sadness. More mood piece than story, the text throughout creates a contemplative space for savoring lyrical language and reflecting on painterly, softly textured, striking art. The pictures' style is representative, yet eminently expressive, and readers will find much to explore within them as they shift between distant and close-up perspectives and interior and exterior settings. When the book opens, a cat (never mentioned in the text) accompanies the solitary child narrator from spread to spread as she plays indoors with her shadow ("sometimes / it disappears... / But it always comes back"). The scenes move to wintry outdoor settings, with the child making poetic observations: "I can hear the wind tell stories, / whispering / to the trees, / making them / laugh / and / sigh." Sometimes "the stories / howl / like wolves," threatening the tranquility, but the girl (now shown in a Red Riding Hood–like cloak) uses her own storytelling ability to keep the wolves at bay. Herein lies hope, as surely as it can be found in the titular cherry tree and the close companionship of a friendly cat.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2020

(2) PS The titular blue table in Raschka's (Mama Baby, rev. 3/20) latest offering is akin to a stage, with props appearing to represent characters named in the text but initially unseen in the art. Throughout, watercolor and collage illustrations match the text's simplicity, with loose, gestural lines lending a comforting roundness. "A child" is the first character mentioned, represented by a glass of milk on the blue table. Nearby is a vase with a cheery yellow flower that first appeared on the opening wordless page, both objects invoking those who placed them there. Next, a cup and saucer, a mug, a newspaper, and a book introduce "a parent," and "another parent." Someone also places a plate of pastries on the table, and the child's setting grows to include paper and crayons. Then, all objects disappear on a page reading "get going." The blue table is empty--but not for long. "Good things from the garden, the store, and the farm" arrive. But perhaps the most pleasing arrival is anticipated by wordless pages in which the table is extended to accommodate "one more family." Now Raschka provides glimpses of people holding hands around the table in thanksgiving. Readers may regard this scene as the Thanksgiving holiday, but it could evoke any occasion of togetherness, perhaps providing comfort and hope for a return to such times in a post-pandemic world.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2021

(2) K-3 Alfred the possum is one anxious fellow. "And when a possum feels nervous, it freezes and plays dead," explains the opening text. Accompanying art shows Alfred hanging from a branch by his tail, rigid and wide-eyed with fear. Ensuing pages depict him sitting frozen in school, unable to begin a quiz, and then mid-stroke while swimming, anxious since he doesn't "excel at sports." His greatest hardship, however, is that his fear of extending himself to others has made him a "very lonely possum." The book's layout reinforces Alfred's isolation: when shy Alfred meets equally anxious armadillo Sofia, who "curls into a ball" when she is nervous, the two are depicted on facing pages, the gutter strategically positioned between their still forms; they are united on a single page after they realize they have "something in common." Now that they feel safe together, they can be close. The new friends' successful, supportive relationship then guides them to befriend other animals who display their own defense mechanisms when nervous or threatened: a chameleon, a fainting goat, a porcupine, a skunk, and others who also need patience and understanding. Throughout, Reinhardt's comical depictions of the fearful animals provoke laughter but are never meanspirited. A closing author's note and a glossary of the depicted creatures separate fact from fiction.

Reviewer: Megan Dowd Lambert | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2020