(2) PS Illustrated by Marla Frazee. The stage is set, the circus curtains part, and out walks the short, bald, and unassuming Great Zapfino, who will leap from death-defying heights onto a tiny trampoline. Barnett plays up the drama from the story's breathtaking launch, as the ringmaster promises: "Zapfino will dodge peril and brave calamity in an impossible feat of derring-do!" But after climbing a towering ladder, the performer looks down, glances at readers, and then disappears. In the following wordless scenes, we see him hop on a plane to a sunny seaside town and, fittingly, take a job as an elevator operator in a high rise. This quiet new life is good until he inadvertently starts a fire with his toaster. It is finally in this moment that, in order to save his own life, the man triumphantly leaps from the top floor ("Behold!") onto a trampoline held by firefighters. Readers can interpret the story in more than one way: does Zapfino overcome a fear of heights in a moment of crisis? Had he merely been tired of the pressure to perform? Perhaps he wants to accomplish the leap all on his own, without a showy cape and the probing eyes of an audience. Most of the story plays out wordlessly in Frazee's animated grayscale pencil ­illustrations. With its expert pacing and delightful details, this is a splendid collaboration between two picture-book greats.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2022

(2) PS Illustrated by Vashti Harrison. This bear-hug of a picture book features a series of similes that serve as declarations of love in various forms. Constructed in a first-person narrative in which the "I" switches from speaker to speaker, readers meet mothers, fathers, and grandparents; siblings and soon-to-be siblings; children with and without disabilities; people of differing ethnicities--a true diversity of characters. "I love you like yellow. / I love you like green," we read. An adult and child explore outdoors during and after rain showers, lemony yellows and rich greens on display. Other pairs or trios move through their days, bonding as a family (baking cookies); dealing with disappointment (a child finishes last in a race); playing games; exploring the outdoors; dancing and reveling. Beaty's rhyming couplets flow smoothly: "Like sunny. / Like shady. / Like gloomy. / Like gray. / From the breaking of dawn / till the end of the day." Harrison brings a vibrant palette, loving care, and a tight focus to these tableaux; viewers are right there with the families, witnessing their moments together. The last of these features a caretaker (it could be a mother, aunt, grandparent, or other), awash in shades of moonlight blues, sending a child off to sleep "with a hug and a kiss."

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2022

(2) K-3 Translated by Jeremy Tiang. "Deep in the Kunlun Hills, there lived a mystical deer," the Nine Color Deer, so called because of the varied colors in her fur. One day she saves a drowning man (by leaping from wave to wave and walking on water), and in return asks only that he not tell anyone where she is. He keeps his promise until the imperial palace announces that the queen had dreamt of a magical deer with great powers that can "help our kingdom prosper," and the king summons assistance to find the deer. The lure of the reward money, which would aid his poor family, causes the man to break his long-held promise, and he leads the king and soldiers to the Nine Color Deer. The deer's magic saves her ("a dazzling white light blossomed around her") from the soldiers' arrows; the kingdom and the man she'd once saved realize the errors of their ways. Translator Tiang's fascinating closing note relates that this story's first iteration is from two thousand years ago; Duan's version is inspired by the famous Dunhuang paintings in China's Mogao Caves. Her textured illustrations (painted with a "comprehensive technique, involving acrylic, mineral color and Photoshop"), using a soft, subdued palette, honor the style of the original cave paintings; they are wispy and fine-lined and capture the delicacy and eloquence of the mystical deer and her world. A beguiling and welcome new telling of a traditional tale.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2022

(1) 4-6 "Fifth grade isn't my kinda vibe," admits Riley at the start of Elliott's debut graphic novel, an exploration of self-identity that is both LOL funny and touching. Riley struggles in school, preferring to crack jokes and doodle on her assignments. And she doesn't have a crush on anyone in Eleventy-One, the boy band that is the frequent subject of her classmates' discussions. But she starts to suspect she might have a crush on Joy Powers, a celebrity comedian who is her idol and the intended recipient of a letter for a school assignment--if Riley can only figure out how to narrow her questions ("Do you ever love stuff that other people think is weird?"). Riley finds a true friend in new-kid Aaron but accidentally outs his parents as gay. When a classmate calls her a "lesbo," Riley (who thinks of herself as a "dude-ish girl") struggles to come to terms with her own identity. With the help of a few friends, her tight-knit family, Aaron's dads, and even Joy Powers, Riley realizes that "it's worth it to find the few people who truly get you." Elliott brings readers crisp linework, a bright palette, expressive body language, rich narrative details, and (bonus!) kitty comics. Best of all is inimitable Riley, who endears herself to readers with her budding self-awareness and undeniable moxie.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2022

(2) PS Illustrated by Elly MacKay. As the book opens, the child who narrates this atmospheric tale heads straight for Mama and Daddy's bedroom and wakes them up. Both parents then admonish the child not to wake the baby. "You wake up too early," Daddy adds more than once. After Daddy makes coffee, he and the child head outdoors into the chilly pre-dawn to sit on the porch. They marvel at the starry sky in which "the wind is waking" and the father asks, 'Can you find Venus? She's the morning star, like you.'" Fondly, he cradles the child in his lap, as the mountains appear in the growing light. They hear the birds and, from upstairs, the baby waking up. They see a shooting star and then, the book's closing gift, the golden light of the rising sun: "I wake up just in time," the child notes. Ericson's short sentences and soft onomatopoetic flourishes (shhhh, sip, rustle, whooo whooo) bring a soothing rhythm to this story. MacKay's illustrations ("drawn, cut, set up in layers, and photographed with light") capture evocative shadows and the ways in which the rising sun warms and reveals a morning--as well as the tender, deeply affectionate bond between parent and child.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: November, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Amy Hevron. This informative and appealing nonfiction picture book gives young readers a detailed look at the tide-pool ecology of the Pacific Coast, the "astonishing world" of creatures that wait in seawater collected among rocks on the shore until the next high tide. The text begins before the title-page spread, as ocean waves slap onto the shore and then retreat; ­Fleming captures the ocean's movement with drama (the waves "CR-A-A-A-A-SH" and then "cr-e-e-e-e-p out"). After the water pools, mussels, snails, chitons, an octopus, and others wait patiently until the "pool is part of the sea once more." Just as the sea "brim[s] with life," the text is filled with vivid and descriptive action verbs: sea anemones "bloom," waves "sweep," the octopus "glides," a rock crab "scoots," and more. Fleming's expertly paced text rolls much like the "restless" wave on the shore; the repetition of "They wait" in the first half builds anticipation as the story slowly unfolds. Hevron's textured illustrations invite close inspection; her depiction of the animals when they return to the ocean is especially inviting as the undersea world fills with color and movement. Her shapes are simple; her compositions, unfussy. Ample back matter provides information on how these creatures survive the low tide.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022

(1) PS Mina is a mouse, her nose always in a book, who lives "in her own little world where nothing ever bothered her." Her busy father brings home things he collects from the outside world, and one day he tells Mina that he has a big surprise. The page-turn reveals a massive cat, staring morosely at them. "It's a squirrel!" he declares. Forsythe's understated humor effectively conveys Mina's dilemma: when she can't sleep, her father tells her there's nothing to worry about, but looming over them both and taking up nearly every inch of their home is the cat, watching with narrowed eyes. They all manage to get along (and the cat gets a sweater!), but when a doctor visits the ailing pet--who has by now been joined by others--and names it as the feline it is, the cats pounce. (Not to worry.) Mina, much like the protagonist of Forsythe's Pokko and the Drum (rev. 1/20), is whip-smart and patiently suffers a well-intentioned but hapless parent. The illustrations are also reminiscent of Pokko with their velvety textures; palette of beautiful coppers, crimsons, and forest greens; and warm glow that emanates from nearly every spread. More, please, of Forsythe's richly imagined forest worlds.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: January, 2022

(2) PS Illustrated by Barbara Chotiner. A seed grows into a dandelion and becomes a ball of seeds that scatter. In a book that relies on typographical creativity to relate information, text placement mimics what's happening in the story. On the opening spread, for instance, "a million silver raindrops... / falling, falling, falling... / hitting the sidewalk with a splash" takes the form of an active rainstorm. On the subsequent spread, the text about the post-storm rainbow is set in an arc shape, each line a different color. A sprout pops up in the city sidewalk, revealing the buttery-yellow petals of a dandelion. Soon, it's "a feathery / white ball of / seeds," which then sail on the wind and land far away in a green field. One dandelion survives to spread its seeds again. The book's playful visual imagery, which also includes various font colors, makes for an engaging read; the text not only forms concrete shapes but also conveys movement (the title's "moving words") and successfully communicates the scientific elements of the story (e.g., lines of text shaped like roots in the soil). Back matter provides more facts about these "tough" flowers and their life cycle.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022

(2) K-3 As the seasons pass, young Hilda visits elderly witch Hazel. In the spring, she helps Hazel sweep her front porch; in summer, they air the music room; in fall, they clean cobwebs in Hazel's parlor; and in winter, Hilda tidies Hazel's room as Hazel is bedridden. Hazel reanimates past memories with her broomstick, and Hilda watches in wonder. She sees a young Hazel playing imaginatively with her cat; a teenage Hazel performing music and setting a caged bird free; and the "belle of the ball" version of Hazel, who wears a snake like a scarf and what look like Cinderella's glass slippers ("It's a looooong story," she tells Hilda). During wintertime, Hilda sees all iterations of Hazel as the witch slips away from her life. The book's palette is dominated by an earthy brown, a pleasing balance to the ethereal subject matter. Idle's wispy, fine-lined depictions of memories are conveyed in a white that nearly glows off the terrestrial browns, as do the sparks of magic that fly through the air in graceful, flowing lines. When spring comes around again, the still-mourning Hilda returns to sweep Hazel's porch, only to be met with a special memory of her own, and new life bursts forth in a nest in Hazel's tree. A bewitching examination of the abiding power of memories and story.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Jaime Kim. An unspecified natural disaster destroys the home of two brothers, who are then unable to locate their parents. With the "howl" of the storm lingering in their minds, the pair starts ­walking, just ­putting "one foot in front of the other." The older brother carries a blanket, and the younger (who narrates the story) holds an orange that, once peeled and opened, serves as a metaphor for his nascent attempts to deal with the trauma. The boys sleep in each other's arms on a beach near other people left homeless ("like driftwood"). Kim's palette then brightens, shifting from the dark shadows of the storm and its aftermath to the yellow sun rising on the shore, as hope arrives in the form of a boat. They board, and the younger boy looks back at the smoke where their home once was, knowing they "could not go back." ­Mayper, as explained in the back matter, set out to chronicle an "experience of catastrophe" to represent the plight of all refugees. Those wanting a refugee story built around specifics--and one with closure--should look elsewhere. But this can serve as a conversation starter for young children, particularly those looking further at the two resources Mayper suggests for learning more about displaced persons.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2022

(2) PS "We are wild. We are children of the forest," proclaims the story's narrator, an unnamed older sibling wearing a fern-colored hooded jacket and brown pants and carrying a (toy) bow and arrow--evoking both Peter Pan and Robin Hood. The younger sibling (known only as Sister), wearing a dress and cozy hat and sweater, blithely toddles behind. Though the illustrations make clear that the duo is exploring their own backyard, the text stays true to the narrator's sharply etched imagination. (When it says, "We find a pioneer cabin," for instance, the illustrations show the siblings approaching a shed where their father is taking a nap.) There's much humor in the older sibling's ­hyperbole and dramatic efforts to protect Sister. In the wild woods, the two encounter a mountain lion (a pet cat), a wild beast (the family dog), a scavenger woman (their mother, coming to check on them), and more. The adventure begins before sunset and continues into the evening; the warm yellows of the sky make way for cool blues and lavenders in Myers's thick, dense watercolors. Nighttime brings shadows, and the younger sibling breaks character to run after "Mama!" In the end, both explorers are safely asleep in bunk beds in the tame indoors. An ode to the natural world--and the abundant imagination of children.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022

(2) 4-6 Illustrated by Molly Brooks. Color by Bex Glendining and Elise Schuenke. Rising sixth graders Katie and Kacey, both homeschooled during the year, head to summer camp. Though Katie loves being with her best friend, she frets about feeling homesick. She's also self-conscious about being "different," with her red hair, freckles, and crooked teeth. At camp, she makes a confident new friend who "cusses" ("Backstreet Boys suck"), and Kacey seethes with jealousy and drifts away. Back home, Katie begins engaging in compulsive behaviors in an effort to "pus­­h the buzzing thoughts [depicted as a bee that won't leave her alone] away." Katie's father, who eventually guides her to a professional, helps her understand that "our thoughts aren't us. They're just our thoughts." This sensitive, deeply felt graphic novel, divided into four seasons of the year, is one that will resonate with many readers, particularly those living with OCD. The story also captures in detail a realistic homeschooling experience, including stereotypes about it: "I didn't feel like the weirdo homeschooled kid when Kacey and I hung out." Katie ultimately finds joy in theater, undergoes a scary lingual frenectomy, and learns that "maybe I could have best friends and good friends. I didn't have to choose." Best of all, she learns that many people are hounded by worries, with Brooks depicting various creatures nagging others as Katie's bee nags her. Both author and illustrator share their own childhood OCD experiences in appended notes, with Ormsbee explaining that the story is a fictionalized version of her own youth.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Becca Stadtlander. On page one of this true story behind the making of the 1942 Caldecott-winning Make Way for Ducklings, readers see legendary author-illustrator McCloskey hard at work in his studio. After completing his first children's book (Lentil, 1940), he wants to put mallard ducks into a story but struggles to draw them correctly. He brings home a box of "very alive (and very LOUD)" ducklings after deciding that he needs "live models." They wreak havoc, but he "was willing to do whatever it took to make these drawings perfect," and in the end, the drawings were "absolutely top-notch!" Smith emphasizes her subject's determination (respectfully referring to him throughout as "Mr. McCloskey"), with the spreads depicting the ducks' "terrible mess" and "infernal quacking" being sure to delight young readers. Stadtlander captures it all in thickly textured gouache and colored-pencil illustrations. Back matter includes a note from McCloskey's daughter Jane; information about publisher Viking's May Massee, the exacting editor depicted in the story; a timeline; and more. Children's literature aficionados will note mention of McCloskey's roommate (who was, in point of fact, illustrator Marc Simont) and will also note the story's absence of red wine, which he and Simont fed the ducks to slow them down for easier drawing. This is the children's version of that tale, after all--and a satisfying one at that.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: November, 2022

(1) K-3 Illustrated by Matthew Cordell. Louis tells his grandma that he wants a dog. When she replies that there are already enough dogs in the neighborhood, Louis goes door to door to get a record of how many. As a result, he doesn't get just a tally of the dogs; he also gets to know his neighbors--Mr. Pierce, whose dog Harvey "will always live in my heart"; a blind woman with a guide dog; and many more (including a surprise appearance by Sadie from Stead and Cordell's Special Delivery, rev. 3/15). Meanwhile, in a subplot told only in the pictures, civic-minded Grandma rolls up her sleeves and establishes a dog park in a previously neglected part of town, City Hall clearly having given her an unsatisfactory response to the letter we saw her typing. As she tells Louis, "Sometimes if you want something done you've just got to do it yourself." Cordell brings to the page a vivid cast of characters as Louis canvasses the neighborhood. His shaggy, loose-lined illustrations in warm pastels are detailed and filled with humor. (The man who owns a dog named E. B. looks a lot like the Charlotte's Web author.) Stead creates an indelible character in Grandma, who is fierce, determined, and kind, and he leaves plenty of room in his lively text for Cordell to add layer upon layer to this already nuanced tale--one that ends sweetly, in more ways than one.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: May, 2022

(2) PS Illustrated by Erin E. Stead. A hungry mule, milk cow, and miniature horse wait for the sun to rise. Declaring that the sun is late ("and so is the farmer"), they go to Barn Owl for advice. Barn Owl gives the trio instructions for persuading the sun to rise, the steps of a journey that will deliver them "all the way to the edge of the world." They are also instructed to bring Rooster along: "Rooster will know what to do." The animals muster their courage and set out, pondering the nature of dreams. The gentle text--there is an eloquent opening passage about the silence of the barn in the early-morning hours--leaves space for child listeners to ponder their own dreamscapes. The illustrations, which contribute moments of subtle humor (the edge of the world, the trio imagines, is designated by a sign that says merely, "THE EDGE"), are dominated by beguiling shades of blues and then glow with warm peaches and yellows at the break of day as the trio makes their way to the farmer's house. Their bravery pays off, as the farmer wakes, and she feeds them--because, yes, Rooster knows what to do: "COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!"

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: November, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Janet Stevens. Little Good Wolf is menace-free: well-mannered, tidy, and hygienic. This frustrates Papa and Mama Wolf, who send him on the Big Bad Bus to the Big Bad School, run by (in a clever play on words) Prince A. Bull and with teacher Wicked Stepmother. In a series of lessons ranging from Basic Badness to Bad Behavior, Little Good Wolf's inherently kind tendencies dominate. He convinces Giant to play baseball instead of whomping him with a club, and he subverts the Bad Manners lesson by teaching Troll how to eat politely. Expelled, the wolf wanders the forest but eventually finds his way home to grateful parents who have missed their son and changed their ways. (Papa Wolf's desperate attempts to impress his son by combing his teeth will elicit laughs.) Both Stevens and Crummel have fun putting a new spin on traditional characters in this fractured fairy tale. In full-bleed spreads, Stevens animates trolls, dragons, and more with much detail and humor, and three vertical spreads emphasize not only the imposing staff at the Big Bad School but also the abiding love Little Good Wolf's parents have for him. The last page subtly reminds readers that happiness comes from being "different," "interesting," and true to oneself. And it features a visual joke (involving a red apple seen earlier in the story) that wraps up this satisfying tale with a wicked wink.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2022

(2) PS Illustrated by Isabelle Arsenault. Vincent is a peripatetic mouse who carries a small house, in the form of a die-cut hole, on his back. He temporarily settles atop a small hill, where he knows "he needed to be." When a series of animals--a bullfrog, a cat, hedgehogs, badgers, etc.--appear, all needing a place to stay, they can't believe they'll fit in Vincent's house. But it turns out that the small house is bigger on the inside; better yet, it keeps expanding. As each new animal moves in, a new house appears on the hillside, reinforcing the sense of community and spaciousness; readers are eventually treated to a delightful double gatefold revealing an entire neighborhood of symbolic homes, each one somewhat resembling the creature it represents. After an indoor feast, a bear appears. The other residents recoil in fear, but Vincent declares, "In my house, all animals are welcome." Stutzman's text possesses a subtle humor, including the use of the phrase "one by one by one by one by one by one by one" to refer to the number of creatures who seek shelter. Arsenault's textured illustrations, filled with rewarding visual details and surprises at nearly every page-turn, bring to life the snug interior world of Vincent's home. A warm, welcome, and satisfying read.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: July, 2022

(2) PS Illustrated by Sergio Ruzzier. Walter (a mouse-like creature) and Xavier (who resembles a duck) do everything together, including boating (their canoe has "X + W" carved into it) and hiking. When a quilled creature appears on the scene, however, Xavier's attention turns to her. The close friendship ends, and Walter mourns the loss: "There was...a big hole in his heart where Xavier used to be." But time passes, and one day Walter takes a hike alone, trying a new trail and making a new friend. Underwood's story sensitively presents a common childhood occurrence, as evident in the title's past tense: the disintegration of a friendship. The book's pacing is superb and lets the story breathe. The single short sentence that chronicles the turning-away of Xavier is dispersed amongst four spreads, Ruzzier extending the five words with his warm and expressive watercolors to unfold the drama of a friendship dissolving. Walter's sorrow, which includes bouts of anger, is given the same leisurely pace, making his return to the hiking trail after his time of grief immensely gratifying. The way Ruzzier captures the changing emotions on Walter's face and the space the story gives to his time of "sad quiet" are honest and respectful to the interior lives of children. Details delight: Walter wears a stylish feathered hat and wraps his tail around a rung of his chair as he reads. Emotionally rewarding and cathartic.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2022

(2) K-3 Illustrated by Doug Keith. Approaching Giant Island in Grandpa's motorboat, Ava and Mason wonder why the small island has such a name. Grandpa says it's always been called that: "That's what my grandpa told me." The children explore the island while Grandpa goes fishing and discover a cave "dripping with mystery." Next, they jump into the water, noting that there "seemed to be magic everywhere" (the illustration shows the two floating in giant bubbles beneath the water's surface). From a rocky ledge they can see the entire island: "Mason, look! The whole island is a giant!" By wielding perspective and scale in playful ways, Keith provides visual clues along the way: a stone that serves as the giant's eye, moss that looks like its hair, and rocks under the water that form a giant's affable face. The rocky ledge is the giant's extended arm. Yolen fills the text with the children's excited dialogue, which gives the book a lively tone; when Grandpa whispers as they leave at sunset, "Always good to see you, old friend," readers know his intention was to give his grandchildren the same thrilling adventures he had as a child. The contrasts in the opening and closing endpapers celebrate the power of imagination to make magic.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: September, 2022

(1) PS Illustrated by Chioma Ebinama. Young Emile, his dog at his side, frequents a field that is "wide and blue" and filled with flowers, bumblebees, and his favorite maple tree. Throughout the seasons, Emile talks to the field, asking if it misses things it doesn’t know, such as the sea, and marvels at what the field does know, such as the stars in a mesmerizing night sky. When he visits one winter day with his father, Emile expresses his dismay over having to share the field with others (i.e., a group of loud children, sledding). His father's response brings him comfort and ­purpose. With gentle rhythms, Young's verse captures the boy's observations with an emotional honesty (Emile wonders why the sledders didn't secure his "say-so" to visit); with an authenticity true to the impassioned feelings of ­children (Emile is described as being "in love" with the field); and with a tenderness that is touching but never ­saccharine. Ebinama brings this story of a Black boy having an immersive outdoor ­experience to life with delicate lines and lush and ­atmospheric watercolors; Emile in his puffy red coat, making a snow angel, is a reverent nod to Keats's Peter in The Snowy Day. The yellows, in ­particular, nearly glow in the form of flowers, bumblebees, and the golden hues of fall. What Emile learns from his father ("The field would not, could not be bought! or belong to anyone") is a satisfying conclusion to this exquisite story of one boy's unfettered delight in nature.

Reviewer: Julie Danielson | Horn Book Magazine Issue: March, 2022