Huh and Lee make a marvelous English-language debut in an emotionally urgent story about a small act of moral courage. It’s 8:15 a.m., storm clouds loom, and traffic is bumper-to-bumper across every lane of a bridge—and indeed all over Seoul. “We can’t be late today,” reads an opening line suspended over the vehicles. Suddenly, a scraggly black kitten appears on the bridge, and cinematic colored pencil and oil pastel compositions move readers in, over, and under the traffic as the tiny animal desperately tries to evade the tires of passing cars. Commuters, including a child in one vehicle, express varying degrees of alarm and empathy, but no one takes a step to help—until, as rain begins pelting the cars, one, driven by the child’s mother, screeches to a halt amid a chorus of honks. The driver runs out, scoops up, and cradles the frightened kitten, and takes her inside the car, which soon blends back into the mass of traffic. It’s a moving work about a small, essential act of kindness. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

Reviewed on 08/22/2025 | Details & Permalink

Big sister Louise hatches a variety of plans to see her infant brother home from the adults-only NICU in this hopeful family story. Even text and dialogue from Rosen, making a picture book debut, touch on the reality of the hospital stay, emphasizing the wait that the pale-skinned family undergoes until baby Max becomes “big and strong enough” to head home. In unlined renderings that lean into blues and pinks, illustrations by Diana (The First Noel) provide a glimpse of Max’s medical surroundings as Louise’s parents show the child numerous photos and videos of the baby, which in turn prompt the protagonist’s ideas for ways to speed his arrival home. Noticing the feeding tube in Max’s nose, big sis creates a drawing of her brother using the tube to escape out a window; hearing the “Beep. Beep. Beep” of hospital monitors inspires artistic visions of the newborn’s “little plastic box” as a spaceship. The motivating artwork continues as Max progresses to bottle-feeding, and Louise happily takes the credit when her sibling finally appears in his bassinet—a forward-looking moment that’s emblematic of the book’s optimistic tone. An author’s note concludes. Ages 4–8. (Oct.)

Reviewed on 08/22/2025 | Details & Permalink

Courage, kindness, and steadfastness serve a girl seeking to save her mother’s life in a simple tale turned epic quest inspired by Chinese mythology. Via horse-drawn cart, Mae and her parents travel the countryside looking for a healing flower that is the only cure for her mother’s illness. During an overnight stay at the base of a towering mountain, Mae’s mother tells her of the ruby red flower with four golden stamens, which “grows in a secret place guarded by monsters.” Mae awakens to a beam of light that draws her into ominous woods, to a cave, and through a whirlwind before the blooms appear. The arrival of a fire-breathing dragon poses a threat until Mae explains her mother’s condition, and the dragon makes a deal: she can keep the flowers if she saves his son, who has fallen into a narrow pit. Mae descends, following a trail of blood and skirting knife-sharp rocks to find the injured creature. Chen (The Tiger Prince) combines feathered, watercolor-like landscapes and tightly drawn renderings of human and dragon characters across a gray and green landscape—which resolve into clear blue skies as both girl and monster save each other. Ages 4–8. (Oct.)

Reviewed on 08/22/2025 | Details & Permalink

In a work that’s just right for fans of Pepper and Me, AdBåge (The Grand Expedition) combines the matter-of-fact and the awe-inspiring to capture a glimpse of social caretaking and minor fame in the kid world. During an improvised game around a ping-pong table, the book’s protagonist gets a skinned knee that “bled and bled and bled and bled and bled and bled and bled.” Students from every grade immediately throng to the scene (“It almost felt kind of cozy, with everyone standing in a big, tight circle, like a flock”). Next, the protagonist gets to visit the teachers’ lounge, is given “my biggest bandage ever,” and inspires wound-related classroom projects (“In art we ran out of red pens!”). Peers even serve as personal waiters during lunch. Naif-style ink sketches with earthy washes speak to a knowing sense of school culture. And when, in a dramatically ew-worthy moment, the impressive scab falls into the pool during swim class, a teacher predicts a forever scar—a physical memorial that suits the protagonist just fine. Characters are portrayed with various skin tones. Ages 4–8. Agent: Maria Åhlin, Rabén & Sjögren. (Oct.)

Reviewed on 08/22/2025 | Details & Permalink

A weekly ritual between grandfather and grandchild turns a new corner in Koo and Xiao’s brisk double picture book debut. Every Saturday, the book’s unnamed young narrator and their mother bring Yaya a box of egg tarts—dan-tats. “We used to eat them in the park until Yaya moved into his nursing home,” the grandchild explains, noting that while they don’t share a language with Chinese-speaking Yaya, the two have the pastries in common. When Yaya isn’t in his room, the child spots him down the hallway in his wheelchair and gives him the box before the man takes off (“ZOOOOM!”). The youth expresses fear of walking the nursing home halls alone (“Sometimes the old gong gongs fart and burp and cough really loudly”). But unwilling to miss dan-tat time, the child follows Yaya’s literal crumb trail, visiting the rooms of those with whom the treats are shared. Via candid narration and a decorative, dollhouse-like setting, the creators demonstrate that loving bonds need have no barriers. Secondary characters are portrayed with various skin tones. Ages 4–7. (Sept.)

Reviewed on 08/22/2025 | Details & Permalink

Adderson (Babble!) and Tamaki (Every Peach Is a Story) imagine a playful encounter between Japanese poet Matsuo Bashō and three would-be muses vying for placement in his work. Walking one evening, Bashō comes upon a peaceful pond and sits, eyes closed, to think. A golden carp swimming past recognizes him, and, hoping to be immortalized in verse, “danced, fluttering/ the golden extravagance of his tail” on the pond’s surface. A water lily subsequently unfurls and wafts her perfume, and then a mosquito (a self-identified “big fan”) whines in the poet’s ear. But neither sight, smell, nor sound penetrate his serenity until a frog, out for nothing more than a swim, inadvertently becomes the focus of Bashō’s now-famous haiku “Old Pond,” reproduced in translation at book’s end. Though text and visuals don’t always align, spare lines humorously explore the pursuit of celebrity and continuation, while watercolor illustrations blend a limited palette of gold, indigo, olive, and pink, conjuring fluid-feeling visuals that juxtapose movement and stillness. Back matter includes more about the poet. Ages 3–6. (Oct.)

Reviewed on 08/22/2025 | Details & Permalink

“I am the one that grows where nothing else will,” narrates a big sagebrush in this evocative account of making home in the “big empty”—North America’s western shrublands. Poetic lines establish the barren quality of the environment, but just as the hardy plant calls this place “home,” so too does it represent a dwelling place for the many critters who rely upon the flora for shelter, nourishment, and cover. As such, the big sagebrush becomes “a thirsty mother’s only hope,” and “a nursery/ under the wide Western sky.” Featuring pastel, colored pencil, collage paper, and digital techniques, Fagan’s moody, dusky-hued illustrations showcase species (identified in back matter) interacting with the plant’s densely twisted limbs. Danger arrives in the form of fire, but the speaker demonstrates resilience, and closing verse offers a commanding summary: “In a land of sun and fire/ I am life.” Ages 5–10. (Oct.)

Reviewed on 08/15/2025 | Details & Permalink

An animal-loving veteran builds community in this straight-talking tale. Growing up in Indiana, pale-skinned George has a remarkable affinity with the family dairy farm’s creatures—he’s frequently trailed by “the two milking goats, the noisy donkey, a duck with her brood, and some curly-tailed pigs.” But when war arrives, he leaves for “strange, freezing forests, and bombed-out buildings... shooting and being shot at.” After the war, learning that the family farm has been sold prompts his becoming a mail carrier, and the neighborhood’s hounds begin following him, forming a “daily dog parade.” The event amuses everyone except one “sad and lonely” grieving mother—until George makes an animalian delivery that helps her to cope. Spray’s voice has a conversational quality that makes the story feel like firsthand family lore, while Ritchie’s loosely sketched cartoons capture home as a place of comfort. Background characters are shown with various skin tones. Ages 5–8. (Nov.)

Reviewed on 08/15/2025 | Details & Permalink

In this uplifting picture book debut, Sibu T.P. spins a story of belonging through a cup of tea. After “a long year of being the different one” at school, narrator Ajesh, an artist, feels most comfortable at home, where the family drinks chaiya, “warm, comforting... the color of treasure and honey.” When summer comes, Ajesh’s parents say they’re headed “back home” to Kerala, but Ajesh feels different there, too. Following an outing to the hills of Munnar (where the tea leaves that make “all the chaiya we drink all the time in America and here” grow), a visit to Ammachi and Appacha’s house and a cup of tea (“golden and warm, just like us. Just like home”) catalyzes Ajesh’s understanding that “this is home too.” Digitally finished, smartly lit acrylic and graphite illustrations portray domestic spaces against sweeping landscapes, exploring an emotional push-pull through a daily ritual. Ages 4–8. (Aug.)

Reviewed on 08/15/2025 | Details & Permalink

Tomasso, the new kid at school, feels the weight of his father’s well-intentioned daily question: “Did you make any new friends?” Rather than admit he’s sitting by himself at lunch, Tomasso begins creating companions, drawing smiling faces on a milk carton, an eraser, and other objects he finds around school; giving them names; and creating stories to tell Dad at dinner. Eager to celebrate his son’s adjustment, Dad nudges Tomasso to invite the new friends for pizza, and the story reaches an extraordinary crescendo. Astutely observational colored pencil and watercolor illustrations by Di Giorgio portray a touching parent-child relationship throughout, but when Dad is confronted with his son’s literalized coping mechanism, readers may find themselves holding their breath around his reaction. Dad’s ability to meet Tomasso exactly where he is becomes a profoundly moving display of parental love and, as the final pages hint, may even pave the way for genuine connection in the outside world. Protagonists are shown with pale skin; background characters are portrayed with various skin tones. Ages 4–8. (Sept.)

Reviewed on 08/15/2025 | Details & Permalink