Valentine’s Day: Self-Love Edition
February 8, 2024 § Leave a comment
In my opinion, Valentine’s Day greatly improved as a holiday when I started thinking of it as a chance to gift myself and my loves ones a new book (or three). Any great book will do, of course, but I do love something that approaches the idea of love in a clever, non-traditional way. Past favorites have included Viking in Love, All the Beating Hearts, and Brimsby’s Hats. (If you’re following me on Instagram, you’ll be getting a new recommendation every day between now and the 14th). But I think today’s picture book takes the (heart-shaped) cake for Most Unlikely Book to Gift for Valentine’s Day.
Pepper & Me is a story about a scab. You heard me. Well, more accurately, it’s a story about a girl who gets a scab from falling down—and then goes on to name that scab, talk to that scab, and befriend that scab. Is that weird? Yup, it’s super-duper weird. Does it also feel authentic, like could I picture my own children doing something like this when they were younger? Absolutely. (I mean, my son did warm to a restaurant straw wrapper that he kept on his bedside table for months.) Is it all kinds of delightful because the story is written and illustrated by the magnificent Italian storyteller, Beatrice Alemagna, the talent behind one of my forever favorites, On a Magical Do-Nothing Day? You better believe it.
All those points aside, what could Pepper & Me possibly have to do with Valentine’s Day? Well, here’s the thing. Initially, our protagonist is repulsed by this scab on her knee. “Hideous scab,” she calls it. She feels marred by its presence and fearful of its persistence. And yet, as the days go on, she turns her curiosity on the bloody aberration and, in doing so, begins to accept, even embrace, it as part of herself. Ultimately, what makes this story one of love is the way it showcases the girl’s emotional journey from resistance to re-framing. It may be the quirkiest expression of self-love to grace the pages of a picture book, but it’s a marvelous way to introduce the idea of what might happen if we learn to love all our parts, even the ugly ones.
« Read the rest of this entry »What Lunar New Year Teaches Us About January
January 25, 2024 § 1 Comment
I’m gaga over the book I’m showcasing today: a cultural lesson, a visual feast, and a dream for kids who miss the interactive flaps of their toddler years. But before I get to that, let’s step back for a second.
Earlier this month, I was sitting next to a friend at my daughter’s basketball game. We were discussing the pressure to get our act together every January. I’m not setting any New Year’s resolutions, I told her. I’m exhausted from the holiday season at the bookstore. I’m exhausted from the holidays themselves. I’m exhausted from travel and making nice with family and eating. I don’t even want to make my bed this month, much less reinvent myself. I definitely don’t want to give up wine.
She shared something she had just read in a newsletter from wellness guru and author, Danielle LaPorte. The lead-in was this: “Hold Up! January is *NOT* the New Year…not actually. Not seasonally, not energetically, not for thousands of years according to the LUNAR NEW YEAR. So, stay in your jams and hold off on the resolutions.”
LaPorte goes on to explain that our American calendar is a mash-up of the western Georgian calendar (365 days in a year) and the eastern Lunar calendar (254 days), which is why some holiday dates are set and some fluctuate with the year. Our calendar might decree January 1 as New Year’s Day, but many of our citizens whose cultural heritage hails from Eastern Asian countries follow the lead of China and celebrate on the first new moon of every year, otherwise known as Lunar New Year. This puts those New Year’s celebrations squarely in the middle of February, with this year’s beginning on Saturday, February 10.
For those who recognize Lunar New Year as the start of the new year, January is not a time for revving up internal engines. It’s a time for rest. A time for incubation. A time for sweeping away dust and fluffing up our nests. A time for taking stock. In that light, the fact that our bodies want to cling to the blanket on the couch, that our brains want the escape of a book more than a list of “to dos” in a shiny new planner, isn’t something to feel guilty about. It’s the cosmic order of things.
(Apparently, there’s also a whole Mercury in Retrograde thing going on this year that makes it even harder to get anything of significance accomplished in January.)
As my friend introduced this idea, and as I read more about it, a tightness inside me released. We don’t have to celebrate Lunar New Year to learn from its traditions. Curiosity is almost always rewarded with new insights about human behavior and the world we share. And what I was hearing made such intuitive sense.
In recent years, there have been some fantastic children’s books released on the subject of Lunar New Year, not just for those who celebrate but for the rest of us to learn about it, too. (Michelle Sterling’s A Sweet New Year for Red and Dane Liu’s Friends Are Friends, Forever are two favorite picture books you might remember if you follow me on Instagram.) Of the numerous releases this year, there is one that ascends to the top, an extraordinarily illustrated primer on Lunar New Year, including the days leading up to it, encased in a box-like, gold-trimmed cover and boasting not 10 but more than 140 itty-bitty flaps in its pages. The Lucky Red Envelope (ages 4-8) is written and illustrated by Vikki Zhang, a renowned artist trained in traditional Chinese painting, born in China and residing today in both Shanghai and New York. And what a talent she is!
« Read the rest of this entry »2023 Gift Guide: The Picture Books
November 14, 2023 § 1 Comment
Welcome to the second installment of this year’s Gift Guide, a collection of the giftiest picture books of the year! (If you missed the first installment on Browsable Non-Fiction & Novelty Books, you can catch up here. And stay tuned for lots more posts, including graphic novels and older kid favorites, coming soon!)
It has been another banner year for picture books, and I didn’t have to work hard to find a wide array of memorable stories, unique executions, and beautiful art. The challenge was how to narrow them down! (And then on Instagram y’all pleaded with me not to leave any out…which is why this list includes a few additional titles beyond what I’ve curated for Old Town Books.) I don’t envy you your decisions!
Most of these books are newly published, though there are a handful that came out earlier in the year, without my giving them proper due on the blog. Suggested age ranges are included in every headline, and for those hankering for more photos of interior spreads, my Instagram feed is always good for that.
If you’re near Alexandria, Virginia, I’d love to see you at Old Town Books, where I’ve got all of these picks stocked. And if you have a wonderful indie near you, I’d love for you to support them, too.
Happy reading, happy gifting, happy golden age of picture books! (OUR CHILDREN ARE SO LUCKY.)
« Read the rest of this entry »Vampires, Witches & Skulls, Oh My: A Spooky Picture Book Round-Up
October 5, 2023 Comments Off on Vampires, Witches & Skulls, Oh My: A Spooky Picture Book Round-Up
It has been another banner year for spooky (in some cases, “spooky”) picture books, and once again, I could not pick a favorite. In fact, I might like this bunch even better than last year’s, and that is high praise! This has officially become my favorite time of year to work at a bookstore. Some people delight in dressing up; I delight in dressing up displays of Halloween books. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: kids today don’t know how good they have it! (I hope that if you’re local, you’ll come see me at Old Town Books, where I’ll be working our Spooky Town Books event on Saturday, October 21 from 10am-5pm.)
The best part? Not a single one of these books actually mentions Halloween. Which means you can choose to pack them up at the end of October…or not.
Before we get started, here’s where I tell you that I was fibbing when I said we were talking strictly picture books today. Five of these are standard picture book fare; another is a picture book for slightly older readers looking to rev up their imaginations; and still another is akin to an early chapter book in length and text. (That last one is my favorite book of the entire year, so do not miss it. Unless you’re easily frightened, in which case maybe miss it. Actually, please don’t miss it.)
« Read the rest of this entry »Embracing Fall Vibes
September 28, 2023 Comments Off on Embracing Fall Vibes
October is a mere three days away, and I hope you’re welcoming it with a new book…or six. Winter might be the obvious choice for squirreling away with a pile of new reads, but the publishing industry would disagree. September and October are when the biggest bounty of titles release. It’s not just that the winter holidays are right around the corner: the subject of fall itself, both its formidable foliage and its singular spookiness, remains a favorite of authors and illustrators to depict.
You have only to glance at the covers of the two picture books above to remember why fall is such a fan favorite. The colors! The leaves! The mums! The jaunty scarves! The jaunty boots! The scarecrows! Fall is a feast for young and old eyes alike.
In the weeks ahead, I’ll be doing round-ups of spooky-themed picture books and graphic novels. But today is about embracing the season itself, and I’m delighted to share two new favorites. (See past faves here, here, and here.) It’s Fall! (ages 2-6) is arguably the most exuberant, infectious celebration of fall I’ve ever encountered, while Hopefully the Scarecrow (ages 3-6) is a softer, quieter story of a girl’s friendship with a scarecrow, marrying the change in seasons with a love of reading aloud.
« Read the rest of this entry »Back to School: One for Laughs, One for Tears
August 3, 2023 Comments Off on Back to School: One for Laughs, One for Tears
Whether you’re (maniacally) laughing or (despondently) crying at the prospect of sending your kids back to school depends entirely on their ages—at least, in my experience. As my kids have gotten older and (a bit?) better at handling unstructured days—actually in need of unstructured time after nine months of homework—I’ve cherished our summers together more and more. There was a time when I couldn’t wait to drop off my kids for their first day of school and run home to an empty house. These days, I find myself poignantly aware that our years of summering together are running out, and my heart feels more heavy than light when September rolls around. (Full disclosure: my kids are currently at sleepaway camp for two weeks, so ask me later this month, after we’ve road-tripped home from Maine with three stops to visit with family, because I might be kicking them to the schoolyard.)
Whether back-to-school season feels like friend or foe, I can at least promise you some good prep reading. I’m focusing today on two especially unique releases, though I could easily have sung the praises of a variety of new titles (some of which I’ll feature on The Gram over the next few weeks and all of which are currently on display at Old Town Books), including Kaz Windness’s Bitsy Bat, School Star (for anyone who has ever felt boxed in by the “right” and “wrong” ways to do school, starring the cutest neurodivergent bat); Lucy Morris’ May’s Brave Day (a charming presentation of mustering courage on the first day of school and whose illustrations elicit classic feels); Becky Scharnhorst’s How to Get Your Octopus to School (if we’re going to fight about lunches and coats then we should at least get to laugh about it); Supriya Keller’s My Name (the newest in a line of important picture books about honoring classmates’ names); Liz Garton Scanlon’s The World’s Best Class Plant (guaranteed to help ease the disappoint when your kid learns that their classroom has neither pet rat nor pet rabbit); and, finally, Stephen Krensky’s I am Ready for School (the latest in a favorite board book series for wee ones starting preschool).
With today’s post, I’m choosing to focus on two completely different approaches to the back-to-school conversation. One is laugh-out-loud funny, because nothing cuts through the stress of change like humor, while the other is a somber, exquisite, and ultimately hopeful meditation on weathering the bittersweet loss of summer.
« Read the rest of this entry »A (Literal) Train of Thought
May 11, 2023 § 2 Comments
When I was almost ten, our family moved from a large, ramshackle house in the lush green suburbs of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to the fifteenth floor of an apartment building in Manhattan, and I did not handle it well. My parents adored New York City—they had lived there before having kids and couldn’t wait to return—but all I saw was no backyard, a shared bedroom with my younger sister, and more people and noise in a single day than I’d known in the decade I’d been alive. In a memory that still makes me cringe—though I was a deeply feeling child I prided myself on my poise—I pitched a fit in front of our realtor, yelling to my parents about how dirty and smelly and noisy the city’s streets were, while we rode an elevator to another prospective apartment, from which the sounds of car horns and ambulance sirens and buses pulling away from the curb would only be slightly dampened.
Kids generally underestimate their ability to adapt, and I quickly grew to love the city. But I never entirely shed the feeling that I was an outdoor kid living in an indoor city, and I sought out changes of scenery whenever I could. Sometimes, the escape was literal, like the summers I spent at sleepaway camp in Vermont. Mostly, I escaped through books—or through my imagination, spurred on by the stories I read. A handful of tap water before bed was the icy, life-saving stream water from My Side of the Mountain. The six-block concrete walk to school was an enchanted yellow-brick road, visible only when I looked down at my quickly advancing feet. I was a dreamy child, something I’ve never been sorry about passing along to my daughter, even when her liberal interpretations of reality have been known to try my patience.
With it being Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month, the timing seems perfect to share one of the most beautiful picture books of the year, as it is both written and illustrated by Dan-ah Kim, born in Seoul, South Korea and now living in Brooklyn, New York. I dare you not to gasp aloud as you page through these glorious spreads. But I don’t only adore the book for its artwork. Its story speaks directly to that child I once was, the one who never kicked and screamed in an elevator again but definitely felt like it, even as she found love and belonging and wonder in city life. That the book is inspired by real subway stops in New York City doesn’t hurt, either, though its message of creativity and imagination is undoubtedly universal.
The Train Home (ages 4-8) is an inventive story about a girl who conjures up a train for a magical journey away from the noisy reality of her city apartment. Along the way, amidst the alluring, refreshing, fantastical scenery of her imagination, she surprises herself by yearning for the home she has left behind. Ultimately, like the dichotomy that exists in the art—some spreads fancifully populated, others pared way back—the story is a reassuring validation that the desire to escape and the desire to return home are never mutually exclusive. Rather, they exist in a tug-of-war dance alongside our own journeys of growing up.
« Read the rest of this entry »The Seed That Keeps On Giving
February 23, 2023 Comments Off on The Seed That Keeps On Giving
We may have just wrapped up Awards season (if you need a recap on the 2023 Caldecott & Newbery winners, check out my Instagram reel), but it’s never too early to speculate on next year’s winners. If we’re placing bets, my money is on one new picture book in particular, a story so lyrically crafted and gorgeously illustrated that I think it could be a contender for both a Newbery (words) and a Caldecott (illustration). Only time will tell, but the good news is you don’t have to wait until next January’s announcements to begin reaping the rewards of this one. Its depiction of Black Joy makes it perfect for Black History Month. Its emphasis on planting makes it perfect for spring. Its poetic text would be a terrific asset to National Poetry Month. But its child-centric joy will ensure little ones request it all year long—is there a child who hasn’t heeded the call to climb a tree?—and it’s one you’ll never tire of reading for its simple but profound beauty.
If we’re talking awards, it’s also a perfect book. Nary a superfluous word. Nary a picture that doesn’t expand on those words.
And, yes, if you’ve been hanging around for some time, you know I CANNOT RESIST A TREE STORY. (Past examples here, here, here…) My children might disagree, but I don’t think it’s solely a symptom of middle age that I notice trees (and birds, flowers, and strange beetles) more than ever. I think it’s also owing to the wealth of contemporary picture books on the subject! I’m quite certain we didn’t have the literature about the natural world that kids do today. And while we were content with Frog and Toad and magical wardrobes, I can’t help but think we were missing out on stories intended to invite reflection about the very life outside our window. Maybe that’s why, as a parent, I’m especially attracted to sharing these stories with my kids. I have as much to gain as they do.
Nell Plants a Tree (ages 4-8), written by Anne Wynter and illustrated by Daniel Miyares, is a fresh twist on the trees-are-great trope. Inspired by Wynter’s Texas childhood and Miyares’ weekly visits to his grandmother in rural South Carolina, the book explores the plentiful gifts a tree bestows on the generations lucky enough to grow up in its shade—particularly the children, who climb it, read beneath it, and play games around it. It’s a look at how the simple, child-friendly act of planting a tree can impact the world for years to come. It’s a book that invites marveling at the trees in our own backyards and parks, as much as it reminds us that the natural world is ever-changing, that the marks we leave on it today can shape our loved ones tomorrow.
« Read the rest of this entry »A Balm for the Soul (& a Perfect Valentine)
February 9, 2023 § 2 Comments
At a time when we’re normally asked to assume New Resolutions in the name of Self-Improvement, I actually began 2023 by stumbling onto some news that took the pressure off. Want to join me in shedding unnecessary guilt? Read on, good book people!
In January, The Today Show ran a news piece on their website, authored by Sarah Lemire, with “10 Surprising Psychological and Physical Perks Associated with Reading.” Most of them weren’t news to me—I’d previously read, for example, the 2016 study about recreational reading lowering mortality rates by as much as 20% (heck, yeah!)—but one of the perks had me doing a double take. According to a 2009 study, 30 minutes of reading has the same ability to decrease stress as 30 minutes of yoga. The article discusses the link between reading and wellness by quoting from a licensed psychotherapist:
“Reading has been connected to meditation in terms of the way our brain processes our environment and our physiological state,” Zoe Shaw, Psy.D., licensed psychotherapist and author of “A Year of Self-Care: Daily Practices and Inspiration for Caring for Yourself,” tells TODAY.com.
“If you’re sitting in a chair or laying in your bed and you’re focusing on reading, your body can actually go into a type of meditative state,” Shaw says. “So, you can get some of the benefits of meditating by reading.”
DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS? I can let go the burden of traditional meditation! Yes, I know meditation offers a myriad of benefits guaranteed to alleviate stress, but I really, really don’t like it. I hate it! (There, I said it.) Time and again, I’ve proven to be terrible at it, and my failure only creates more of the thing I’m supposed to be driving away! (I chronicled some of this here, because occasionally I get inspired to try again. At least, with the help of kids’ books.) While I have successfully adopted some mindfulness strategies—a few times a day I bring my attention to my breath—I cannot embrace the discipline that comes from true, sit-in-a-chair meditation.
Praise the literary gods, because it turns out that if I adopt the discipline of reading for at least thirty minutes a day—which I already do!—then it’s akin(ish) to meditation. It turns out I’ve been practicing meditation all along! I finished that article and I felt like throwing myself a party.
We all need the gratification that comes from being told, early and often, that we are already enough.
Enter Julie Fogliano’s thoughtful new picture book, all the beating hearts (ages 4-8), sublimely illustrated by Cátia Chien. It’s a book that echoes the message that we’re enough just as we are. It’s a poem that reads like a balm for our soul. It has nothing in common with Valentine’s Day other than a beating hearts message, but I’m all for using Valentine’s Day as an excuse to collect books that remind us of our connection to one another.
With her lyrical poetry at once grounded in detail and abstract in ideas, Julie Fogliano excels at authoring books that are about everything and nothing at the same time—my favorite kind of books, if I’m being honest. (I guess it’s no surprise that these are favorites, because Julie Fogliano’s work has made frequent appearances on this blog, including here, here, here, and here, that last being the second post I ever wrote! If you follow me on Instagram, you might have caught yesterday’s post about another new Fogliano title that would also be perfect for Valentine’s Day. So, yes, Team Fogliano.)
I’m also a card-carrying fan of Cátia Chien, originally from Brazil, whose art made Matthew Burgess’ picture book, The Bear and the Moon, my 2020 pick for Favorite Picture Book of the Year. In the case of all the beating hearts, her impressionistic pastel and colored pencil artwork, which often distorts form in ways that tug at our imagination, feels like a perfect fit for Julia Fogliano’s open-ended text.
One of the reasons I’ve always tried to uphold the daily practice of reading aloud to my kids is because it’s one of the few moments across the course of the day where I’m completely immersed in what I’m doing. The chatter in my brain quiets, and I can direct my attention to the task at hand—not just the words or pictures on the page, but the experience of sharing them with my children. I feel their energy alongside mine. It’s a moment of grounding. A moment of inspiration, joy, levity, or contemplation, depending on what I need it to be. Now, I can add meditation to the list.
In all the beating hearts, Fogliano and Chien invite us to reflect on our collective presence, the way we’re co-existing with every rotation of our planet in a way that’s “together but apart/ the same but exactly different.” It’s not a new concept for a picture book, the idea of drawing comfort from the reminder that we are not alone. That there’s wonder to be found in the predictability of our everyday lives. That, as Anne of Green Gables reminds us, “Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it yet.” But it’s done here with the full package, from the poignant lyricism to the jewel-toned illustrations to the extra-large trim size. And it’s one parents will relish reading, because its message feels equally good to us.
Let’s take a look inside.
« Read the rest of this entry »The Story I Didn’t See Coming
January 19, 2023 Comments Off on The Story I Didn’t See Coming
A large part of my job as a bookstore buyer is perusing online catalogs. These days, most publishers include full interior PDFs of their picture book titles, so rather than taking a stab in the dark, I can read a book in full before deciding whether and how many to order. And with each catalog, especially the big ones, there’s a predictable flow. I begin with the excitement of Christmas morning—what treasures are waiting beneath this tree?—until my old lady eyes begin glazing over. I should take a break, I think. No, I should just push on! Only five more pages. Only a few dozen more titles. Where I began by carefully reading through each book, now I’m skimming. Then skipping. Now I’m bored. So bored. I’m bemoaning the fact that nothing feels exciting, nothing feels fresh. I should really take a break, because now I’m ready to give up my career because no one publishes anything good anymore. (All gross exaggerations, of course, but this is what computer fatigue will do to you.)
So there I was, back in October, perusing Penguin Random House, the monster of all catalogs, which also distributes titles published by the small press, Charlesbridge, when I came across the latter’s thumbnail for The Penguin of Ilha Grande, with a release date of January 17. No one buys a penguin book in January, I thought (as odd as it sounds, I generally can’t sell a book with snow once the New Year hits, because people are already thinking about spring). I was prepared to fly right on past, without clicking the link to open the book, only a tiny voice berated me: Don’t be lazy. You don’t want to miss something that could be great.
A few minutes later, I had tears rolling down my cheeks. I was shouting into the void of my living room, THIS STORY! Oh, my heart, THIS STORY! It turns out there wasn’t any snow or ice; this is the story of a Magellanic penguin, and Magellanic penguins migrate to feed in warm water. But to be clear: had it been covered in snow, I’d still have ordered it. Could I sell it as a non-traditional Valentine’s Day pick, seeing as it’s about an enduring friendship between a young penguin and an old man? Why not! Could I parade it out a few months later for our Earth Day displays, since it also carries a message about conservation? You betcha! Am I going to try and convince the author to come to our store? Yes indeedy.
Give me all the animal rescue stories! Especially if they’re based on true events; especially if they expose young readers to new corners of the world; especially if they teach the importance of science and conservation; and especially if they celebrate the amazing bond between humans and animals. Past favorites have included The Elephants Come Home, which landed on my 2021 Gift Guide, and Feathers Together, which was on last year’s guide. Is it my age that makes me a sentimental puddle? Quite possibly. But I’ve also seen firsthand how much children love these stories. They invite wonder about the world around them. They’re living proof that small hands can make a big impact.
Today, I can’t wait to introduce you and your children to The Penguin of Ilha Grande (ages 4-8), written by debut author, Shannon Earle, and illustrated by Brazilian artist, Renato Alarcão (the latter also illustrated this picture book from wayyyy back in the archives). The true story stars a penguin named Dindim, who was rescued off the coast of Brazil by an elderly man named Seu João—and the surprising and extraordinary friendship that followed.
« Read the rest of this entry »Advocating for the Under-Fish
January 12, 2023 § 1 Comment
Today, I’m highlighting another 2022 picture book that, had it released earlier, would have made my Gift Guide, because it’s that good. It also boasts one of the most genuine classroom settings I’ve seen in awhile, a story that not only speaks to a love of learning and the benefits of independent research projects, but honors the creative minds that go against the grain, that don’t conform to the traditional norms that the school day demands.
In other words, if you love Andrea Beaty’s “Questioneers” series—and who doesn’t, with favorites like Iggy Peck Architect and Aaron Slater Illustrator—then Agatha May and the Anglerfish (ages 4-8), co-written by Jessie Ann Foley and Nora Morrison, and illustrated by Mika Song, will be a sure-fire hit. Did I mention the story rhymes, too? And that it’s packed with fascinating factoids woven seamlessly into said rhyme?
If you’ve been hanging around here for awhile, you’ll know that I have a soft spot for books with neurodiverse characters. There was a time when I sent a child off to school and steeled myself for the emails to follow: He had a hard day. He wouldn’t participate. He threw his paper across the room. He threw his paper at a classmate. He refused to help during cleanup. My child wasn’t exactly like Agatha May, whose cubby is a mess and whose hands are perennially stained with charcoal, who chews gum when she’s not supposed to and delights in her smelly lunches. But he was judged the same way Agatha May is, with eye rolls from kids and frustrated tones from teachers. Agatha May isn’t given any labels in the book, but it’s fair to say that her brain works a little differently than those of her classmates.
But what an amazing brain it is! Agatha May is a dreamer, yes, but she’s also passionate about her interests—especially those that, like her, aren’t conventional. She’s focused and attentive when allowed to pursue these interests, leaving no stone unturned. Her vocabulary is astounding. She might seem like a loner, but she yearns for connection and lights up when praised.
Curious. Determined. Hardworking. Resourceful. Proud. What we discover over the course of this story is that Agatha May, the girl without any of the “merit points” distributed by her teacher and coveted by her classmates, actually embodies everything we want our children to be. She just doesn’t look the part.
« Read the rest of this entry »New Year, Not-so-New Resolution
January 5, 2023 Comments Off on New Year, Not-so-New Resolution
Happy New Year! I hope your winter break brought you ample time for family and friends, long walks and good food, and quiet moments to read. If you gifted any of my recommendations, I’d love to hear how they went over!
I’m not always one for New Year’s resolutions, but I did something at the beginning of last year, and I liked it so much that I’ve decided to do it again. The idea came out of Ann Patchett’s These Precious Days, which I devoured a few days before 2022 kicked off. These personal essays not only filled up every ounce of my being, but they once again affirmed Patchett as my favorite living writer (and the platonic soulmate who doesn’t know I exist, though that’s a topic for another time). In one of these essays, “My Year of No Shopping,” she talks about how she gave up shopping for the entirety of 2017. Tired of buying things she didn’t really need for a quick endorphin fix, only to begrudge them when they piled up by the door and demanded unpacking, she decided to go cold turkey for an entire year. “The trick of no-shopping wasn’t just to stop buying things. The trick was to stop shopping.” The idea was to free herself, not only of the mental space that shopping, or contemplating acquisitions, took up, but of the way shopping obscured the simple truth that “what I needed was less than what I had.”
The things we buy and buy and buy are like a thick coat of Vaseline smeared on glass: we can see some shapes out there, light and dark, but in our constant craving for what we may still want, we miss too many of life’s details.
I figured if I already looked to Ann Patchett to tell me what I should be reading, it couldn’t hurt to let her run the other parts of my life, too. She made not shopping sound so nice that I decided to try it. For nearly five months into 2022—OK, I did not last the full year, but five months still felt terribly impressive—I followed her same rules. She could buy food and flowers; she could buy toiletries, but only when she’d used up every bottle or tube she’d tucked away; and she could buy books. (That last one was critical: I wanted to spend less money, I didn’t want to go INSANE.) But no clothes or shoes. No home goods. No gadgets. No trinkets. No stuff.
I have never been a huge shopper, but I do have a tendency to linger on the J.Crew website long after I should be in bed with my book. I’ve been known to click through links on social media, only to end up with stuff that doesn’t look half as good in real life as it did on an influencer’s feed. How many times have I fantasized about how much prettier/organized/productive I’d be with [fill in the blank]? May I plead the fifth on that?
Everything Ann promised came true. I started paying closer attention to what I already had. I stopped getting distracted by promotional emails (actually, I unsubscribed to them). I stopped craving the rush that comes from newness, from the promise of re-invention. I didn’t have to worry about buyer’s remorse creeping in to taint my enjoyment. I felt more in control, more at peace. I felt happier.
I almost caved when I had to attend a bar mitzvah. It was my first time seriously dressing up since the pandemic, and my clothes, shoes, and make-up all seemed wanting. I was seconds away from clicking the checkout button on a gorgeous dress I was sure would make my re-entry into society easier, when I walked back into my closet, took a deep breath, and thought, I can do this. I can wear something old, something that doesn’t fit quite how it used to, and it will be OK. I did, and it was better than OK.
I started to fill the holes in my life with less want and more gratitude. It’s an immense privilege to be in a place to contemplate a reduction in shopping as an experiment of self-care, as opposed to an urgent financial necessity. That only underscored the importance of more actively considering my blessings, what really brings me joy, what I actually need to live fully.
The benefits carried over even when I started shopping again. If I thought about buying something, I sat with the decision for a bit. How would I feel when that thing showed up on my doorstep? Would I begrudge all the packing material, the fuel it consumed to get to me, the hit to my wallet? Or would it feel like something to be cherished, something of lasting impact?
And then fall arrived. There’s nothing like the holiday season to convince you that opening your wallet will guarantee merriment. I found myself heeding the call of sales (those pesky emails found their way back in), and every time I set out to buy something for someone, I somehow came home with something for myself as well.
So, when the dust settled on this year’s Christmas wrappings, I thought about the peace I’d felt in the early part of 2022 and decided to try for that again. No shopping (except books!) for at least the first part of the year.
I also thought about Howard Schwartz’s 2022 picture book, All You Need (ages 4-8), a poetic tribute to life’s essentials—and a gorgeous one at that. Illustrated in watercolor by Jasu Hu, who drew inspiration from the countryside of Hunan, China, where she spent her childhood, the artwork is as light and ethereal as the subtle anti-consumerism message of the text. What do we really need for a rich, fulfilling life? It’s an answer that might be as important for us to hear as it is for our kids.
« Read the rest of this entry »‘Tis the Season for New Christmas Books
December 8, 2022 Comments Off on ‘Tis the Season for New Christmas Books
I’m usually happy to find one new stand-out Christmas title each year. (Last year, it was this outstanding Hanukkah-Christmas-combo.) But 2022 has exceeded expectations, and today I’ve got a whopping nine books to rave about. Of course, nothing will ever quite rival Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree for Best Christmas Read Aloud, but the books below still hold plenty of kid appeal. Plus, we all know that when it comes to Christmas books, the more the merrier. Unpacking our Christmas books alongside ornaments and wreath hangers has always been one of our family’s favorite nights of the year—rescheduled for this weekend, thanks to a nasty bout of the flu—because the anticipation of Santa’s arrival is almost as sweet as Christmas morning itself.
So, get that hot cocoa brewing, curl up by the tree, and enjoy these festive stories. (Links go to Old Town Books, and hurry because they are going FAST!)
And, if you’re looking for a new board book to add to your collection, look no further than Santa Jaws. (I’m only sorry I didn’t have a copy handy to photograph.)
« Read the rest of this entry »2022 Gift Guide: The Picture Books
November 10, 2022 Comments Off on 2022 Gift Guide: The Picture Books
With so many spectacular stories, every year it gets harder to narrow down a list of picture books for my Gift Guide. I’ve weighted this year’s list towards fall releases, hoping to ensure that the titles will be new to you or your gift recipient. But I also made exceptions. There were a few books published in the first half of the year that stand the test of time, and I couldn’t imagine a 2022 favorites list without them (Bathe the Cat, Knight Owl, and Endlessly Ever After).
I’ve also concentrated on books that feel inherently gifty. These are books you could gift to almost any child, regardless of how well you know them, and be confident that they’d be charmed and you’d be heroic. If I was strictly making a “best of” list, I would have added titles like Blue: A History of the Color as Deep as the Sea and as Wide as the Sky.
If space and time permitted, I’d remind you of all the books I’ve already blogged about this year (because I only blog about books I love). As well as others I’ve highlighted on Instagram, like Mina, Does a Bulldozer Have a Butt?, Izzy and the Cloud, and Poopsie Gets Lost.
Finally, before we get started, I’ll remind you that I kicked off the Gift Guide a few weeks ago with My Favorite Picture Book of the Year: Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen’s fresh telling of The Three Billy Goats Gruff. I won’t repeat myself here, but don’t forget that if you really want to wow your audience, that’s the ticket.
But, of course, these others are incredibly special, too. Presented here from youngest to oldest. (As always, links support the lovely indie where I work as the kids’ buyer. We ship!)
« Read the rest of this entry »2022 Gift Guide Kicks Off: My Favorite Picture Book of the Year
October 18, 2022 Comments Off on 2022 Gift Guide Kicks Off: My Favorite Picture Book of the Year
It’s that time of year again! For months, I have been working behind the scenes, reading hundreds of picture books, middle-grade books, young adult, and non-fiction in order to bring you this fall’s top picks for kids, tweens, & teens (nearly 60 titles in all!). I’ll be rolling out the Gift Guide in a series of blog posts between now and Thanksgiving, but if you live in the Northern Virginia area, I’d LOVE to see you at one of two In-Person Events I’ll be doing on the first two Friday evenings in November at Old Town Books, the beautiful indie where I’m the kids’ buyer. You’ll get a chance to hear me present the entire guide in person, followed by personal shopping and gift wrapping. Knock out all your holiday shopping and stockpile fabulous books for the year to come! (Just hurry, because tickets are going fast.)
It has become traditional for me to kick off each year’s Gift Guide with My Favorite Picture Book of the Year. (Last year, it was Little Witch Hazel (swoon!) and before that we had memorable titles like this, this, this, and this, which actually bears some fun similarities to today’s book.) This year’s pick officially hits shelves today, but it was actually the very first book I picked for this year’s guide, after reading a digital copy six months ago, so it has taken every ounce of restraint I have not to tell you about it until now.
I knew a fairy tale remixed by Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen—the launch of a new picture book trilogy, no less!—was bound to be brilliant, but I also knew it would need no help from me to find its audience. Between the two of them, these kid lit superstars have garnered numerous Caldecott Honors, not to mention countless other accolades, so there was no way this book was falling off anyone’s radar. Normally, for “My Favorite Book of the Year” posts, I tend towards the hidden gems.
But while this will undoubtedly be one of the biggest books of the year, I’m happy to jump on the bandwagon, because The Three Billy Goats Gruff (ages 4-8) is the bomb. This story is READ-ALOUD PERFECTION. The humor! The pacing! The rhyme! The bonus endings! The ode to gourmands! The chin hair! The VOICES! I can’t think of a single child who won’t hang on every word of this book, alternately holding their breath and howling with laughter. Or a single adult who won’t be game to read it again and again.
Are you ready to step onto the bridge with me?
« Read the rest of this entry »More Treats Than Tricks: New Halloween Picture Books
October 5, 2022 Comments Off on More Treats Than Tricks: New Halloween Picture Books
“H—A—double L—O—W—double E—N spells Halloween!” Anyone else remember learning that song in Kindergarten? Anyone else still need to sing it to remember how to spell the holiday? Just me?
Most years, I do you a solid and highlight just one stellar new Halloween picture book. This year, I couldn’t choose so you’re getting seven (sorry, not sorry). Actually, one of them—Oliver Jeffers’ There’s a Ghost in This House—you’ve seen before. It came out last year but, due to supply chain issues, juuuussst missed a Halloween release. That meant it made my Gift Guide instead—I mean, a haunted house is a haunted house any time of year—and lots of you have told me how beloved it has become in your house. But if you were NOT one of those folks, you get a do-over this year. Phew.
So, yes, Halloween picture books are especially strong this year! But before we get started, I always like to use these posts as an excuse to dip back into the archives. Last year, there was our dear Vampenguin. Who remembers The Little Ghost Who Was a Quilt the year before that? Gah, I love that one! There was also I am a Witch’s Cat, Vampirina Ballerina, The Monsters’ Monster, and that doesn’t include a few other favorites I’ve highlighted on Instagram over the years.
Now let’s see what this year has brought us.
« Read the rest of this entry »The Year of the Dog (Books)
September 22, 2022 Comments Off on The Year of the Dog (Books)
Are there more timely topics right now than puppies? For sure. (If you hit up Instagram, you can read my recent posts on Banned Books Week and Latinx Heritage Month. If it ever dips below 80 degrees, I promise to start talking about fall books. I won’t leave you hanging on Halloween releases, either, and then before you know it we’ll be onto the annual Gift Guide!)
But while today’s subject isn’t making headlines, it has been very topical in our own home for the last nine months. And judging by the record number of doggie-themed picture books published this year, maybe we’re not alone? (Or maybe I’m just finally paying attention.)
I’ve previously shared the story of how we got our newest pup—and the train wreck that was our early days together. And yet, the dog we have today is almost unrecognizable from the one who wouldn’t let us come near him. Watching our pup transform from terrified and traumatized to affectionate and assured has felt nothing short of miraculous. (Now, if he would just stop peeing on himself when he potties, we’d really be in business.)
But Fozzie hasn’t been the only one who has changed over the past year. Did you know dogs can draw teenagers out of their bedrooms? Did you know that watching a dog tackle a stuffed trout can unleash a belly laugh you’ve been holding onto for years? My husband and I used to argue about who had to take the pup on his final walk of the night. These days, we go together, finding excuses to do longer loops because it gives us a chance to connect—away from phones, laptops, and TV. As it turned out, we needed Foz just as much as he needed us.
Whether you have a dog, are planning to get a dog, or are looking to placate your dog-obsessed kiddo, I hope you’ll check out these adorable 2022 picture books. From heartwarming to hilarious, they represent a wide spectrum of reasons why dogs are, quite simply, the best. (Sorry, cat people. You got your shout out earlier this year.)
« Read the rest of this entry »Welcoming Surprise
September 15, 2022 § 3 Comments
As a parent, one of the things I continue to wrestle against is the temptation to label my children, to fit them inside tidy little boxes for the sake of proving (to the world? to myself?) that I’ve got everything figured out. On the one hand, of course I know my kids aren’t some puzzle begging to be solved; on the other hand, everywhere we turn as parents, we’re being asked to declare our children’s interests, to commit to one sport at the exclusion of others, to sum up their personalities for new teachers or turn them into soundbites for small talk with other parents.
If we’re talking labels, then my son is a math and science kid. Has been for a long time. He will tell you his plan is to be a rocket scientist for NASA, and he will steer almost every conversation at the dinner table back to whatever launch attempt has been in the news that day. As parents, all we want is for our kids to find something they love, so phew, let’s check that box and call it a day.
But wait. What about his eye for color and design? His love of drawing photo-realistic animals on birthday cards? What about the fact that he was the first one in our family who could handle our traumatized puppy, the first one to leash him and teach him tricks? What about his love for Anne of Green Gables that (almost) rivals mine?
What else might I miss by boxing him in?
Though he has an indisputable aptitude and passion for math and science, his favorite class last year was actually history, a class comprised of reading, writing, and public speaking. He has an obsession with current events that grew out of stress-induced vigilance but has morphed into a fascination with politics and economics. He has loved swimming, then hated it, loved running, now finds his interest depends on the day. He used to wince when a soccer ball flew at him, but last year I watched as he ran straight into the action on the basketball court, so maybe my telling people for years that, “yeah, he doesn’t like contact sports,” wasn’t actually true.
Will he grow up to become a rocket scientist? Quite possibly. Might he grow up to do any number of things seemingly incongruous with that goal? Quite possibly. All I know is that the more I can get out of the way, the freer he is to be open to possibility. And to surprise those of us along for the ride.
Easier said than done. That’s why we need frequent, insightful reminders.
You are more than a single note—
played again and again.
You are a symphony.
You are sounds plucked from all the places you’ve been
and all the people you’ve met
and all the feelings you’ve felt.
You are blues and pinks and loneliness and laughter,
mismatched scraps accumulated over time
and stitched together
into a kind of patchwork.
These resounding words come near the end of Patchwork (Ages 5-10), a stunning collaboration between two of our family’s favorites: Matt de la Peña (of Last Stop on Market Street) and Corinna Luyken (remember when I interviewed her here?). A paean to self-discovery, the book speaks to the capacity of children to change. Even as it highlights six specific children’s experiences, the second-person narration feels universal: the “you” is at once the child pictured in a pink tutu and the young reader studying her on the page.
Earlier this month, I read the book to my own children, despite them being well outside the target age, and I watched as a kind of peace settled around them. “What did you like about the book?” I asked. My daughter was quick to say she liked Corinna’s choice of a different color for each of the children’s stories (something I’ll talk more about in a bit).
My son took longer to think. Finally, he spoke: “I liked the way the children were always surprising the adults.”
In its invitation to witness and celebrate the surprises of self-discovery, Patchwork succeeds in both affirming the curiosity our children already know to be inside them and reminding those who love them to make room for that curiosity.
« Read the rest of this entry »Beach Combing
July 14, 2022 Comments Off on Beach Combing
We recently returned from a glorious beach week, so it seemed only fitting that I should tell you about my favorite beach-themed picture book of the year. (Psst: don’t forget this fave from 2020.) But first, allow me a minute to wax nostalgic about the art of beach combing. This particular trip was to the ocean—just outside Duck in North Carolina—so there were ample shells to source, especially in the early morning if you beat the crowds. But judging by the quality control practiced by my daughter—or, shall we say, complete lack thereof—it would appear I have failed to impart this skill. “Please save these for me,” I heard over and over, followed by a dumping of shell shards and nondescript pebbles into my hand.
Flash back to my own summers, spent on the shores of Lake Erie at my grandparents’ summer home. There were no shells to be found. Not much in the way of interesting rocks, either. What we did have was seaglass, and my cousins and I fancied ourselves connoisseurs when it came to these specimen of the sea. Any eye could spot a colorful piece of glass among the gray pebbles, but only the most discerning would ensure it was perfectly opaque, its edges worn smooth from years in the water. Anyone could fill their pails with brown glass, even white glass that had once been clear, but a good piece of green was gold, and a piece of blue, especially one bigger than a pencil eraser, was cause for calling out for all to come and see. Each night, we’d comb through our treasure, keeping only the best of the best.
(It’s very important, when beach combing, to examine your treasures once they are dry. The water tends to give even the plainest of finds a gleaning, shimmery mystique. The best treasures are those that sustain their shine all the way to your bedroom shelf, where they can be reborn as art.)
That something as careless as beer bottles thrown over the deck of a ship can transform into jewels that can turn a walk on the beach into something magical never ceases to amaze me. The seaglass of my youth spoke to a mystery I couldn’t see, one I’d never entirely understand. I wondered about the journey of that glass, perhaps as my own children wondered about the bits of shells they recently picked up, certainly as the young protagonist of today’s book tells us she wonders about the creatures who once lived in the shells now washing up on the shore of her grandparents’ house.
Author Kevin Henkes and illustrator Laura Dronzek are no strangers to collaborations when it comes to picture books about the natural world, but Little Houses (Ages 3-6) might be their finest yet, deftly balancing information with poetry, truth with imagination. We follow as a girl examines her beach finds and wonders about the things she doesn’t know. That she has these experiences during a summer spent with grandparents only sweetens the package, recalling the way my own grandmother would swoop in and out of our beach walks, sometimes pausing to procure her own treasure, often marveling at ours, always happy for the chance to muse about the mysteries of the sea.
« Read the rest of this entry »Picture Books as Performance
May 19, 2022 Comments Off on Picture Books as Performance
I recently tuned into the podcast Picturebooking, where Mac Barnett was being interviewed by host Nick Patton. It was fortuitous timing, because earlier that day I had told a friend that I thought Barnett’s newest picture book, The Great Zapfino (Ages 3-6), an almost wordless story in partnership with the great Marla Frazee, was one of the most brilliant and exciting wordless picture books I’d ever seen. But I couldn’t entirely put my finger on why.
Wordless picture books are a hard sell for parents. I could sit here all day and list the ways they build early literacy skills in young children (and I once did, here, with our family’s favorite wordless trilogy), but when it comes down to it, they just don’t seem like they’re going to be much fun to read aloud.
That’s because there’s a performative element to picture books that feels like it’s getting lost in the absence of words. On the podcast, Mac Barnett talks about how the story of a picture book cannot exist independent of its delivery. And that delivery changes every single time. No parent or teacher will read aloud the same book in quite the same way, with the same cadence or expression or energy, not to mention with the same participatory feedback from their young audience, which means that once an author unleashes a picture book into the world, it becomes a living, breathing entity. It becomes performance art.
When we adult readers are looking to entertain our listeners, we understandably look to text, both to build a story’s arc and to provide us with the dialogue to exercise our comedic or dramatic voices. In the absence of text, when we must look to pictorial representation for meaning, we’re unsure how to translate what we’re seeing aloud. We feel a bit adrift. We forget that what feels awkward to us is actually part of the charm of wordless books for children: they have to work a bit harder, participate in the read-aloud experience a bit more, but the payoff of discovery is that much sweeter.
Creating a picture book guaranteed to hold a listener’s attention no matter how it’s read is no easy feat, but Mac Barnett has proved himself infallible. Everything he touches has slam-dunk crowd appeal. (Spoiler alert: I’ve already chosen his forthcoming fall release, The Three Billy Goats Gruff, for this year’s Holiday Gift Guide!) In the case of The Great Zapfino, Mac Barnett has done something highly effective. He front loads the book with two pages of text—the words of a circus ringmaster, introducing his biggest act—before letting Marla Frazee’s spectacular illustrations tell the rest of the story. This means that right out of the gate, he satisfies our desire for a fun, over-the-top character voice, then uses that voice to invest the listener in what’s to come. Right out of the gate, we’re poised for the performance in these pages.
But The Great Zapfino isn’t just a picture book that performs well. It’s also a story about a literal performance. And not the one we think we’re getting from the book’s opening pages, either. Because the Great Zapfino is about to blow it. He’s about to throw away his big shot in a public spectacle of embarrassment. But he’s also about to rewrite his own script, cast himself in a different role, and give himself the time and permission for second chances. His performance, we come to realize, is the performance of life, and we are lucky to be along for the ride.
« Read the rest of this entry »
What to Read to Your Kids 