Children's Books discussion

Happy New Year and here's to twelve months of great reads ahead. I know that I could really use some extra joy in my life right now, and we moderators have discussed focusing on some cheerful themes in 2024 as a bit of a bright spot given everything going on in the world. So, for January, I invite you to seek out picture books that bring you joy. Maybe it's cover art that feels like a warm hug, or a description that resonates with you before you even open the book... maybe you stumble across a book that makes you smile as you're browsing for something else, maybe it's a welcome reread of an old favorite... If it's a picture book, and it makes you happy, please share with us! I am looking forward to seeing what we gather.

Great theme! Fight off the top of my head I can say that Ish and others by Peter H. Reynolds about the power of creativity make me smile.

Listopias-and completing them- somehow bring me joy! Kathryn or Q, please make or recommend one for me!

Strega Nona and Watch Out for the Chicken Feet in Your Soup are two favorites that spark joy in the hearts of my Italian-American family. We treasure our memories of our Nonnie and these books reflect our impressions of what Nonnie was like. (Esp. the soup. I NEVER saw chicken FEET but she did save the gizzards for the dogs).

All of the picture books that spark joy in me also really talk to my inner child.

One of the most joy sparking picture books I have read in 2023 is The Boy and the Banyan Tree, which I did not only love but which I also find to be the perfect antidote to The Giving Tree (which I have never liked).

In her October 2023 picture book The Boy and the Banyan Tree author Mahtab Narsimhan has a young boy spending time and becoming close friends with an anthropomorphic and wise banyan tree in his village (which is situated somewhere in India). And yes, while I usually do not tend to enjoy anthropomorphism and especially anthropomorphism regarding plants and trees, for The Boy and the Banyan Tree having boy and tree be friends and also having them converse somehow does not really bother me all that much, or rather that I simply am able to accept and even appreciate a talking and wisdom granting banyan tree as a natural, as a given and essential part of Narsimham's presented storyline.

But very much unlike with Shel Silvertstein's The Giving Tree (which I have always found to present a rather problematic and cringeworthy subject matter promoting and even celebrating selfishness and codependency, with the tree only giving and the massively entitled boy continuously being demanding and taking, taking, taking), whenever in The Boy and the Banyam Tree Mahtab Narsimhan has the boy desiring something and asking the banyan tree for advice and help, the tree (like the true friend she is) is delightfully being shown as not simply granting wishes and the like but instead demonstrating to the boy how to earn what he desires by and for himself and him also being taught the importance of becoming self sufficient and to equally be appreciative, to pay things forward and back and with this all obviously and wonderfully shown by Narsimhan as a much better and more positively productive strategy than just having the boy being showered with and ever more gifts by the banyan tree.

Thus first and foremost, The Boy and the Banyan Tree has the tree of the book title helping her young friend to become a mature and caring adult, who, when he returns to his home village with his family after years away (but both remembering and still holding his own and special banyan tree close in his heart) introduces his family to the tree, thereby completing the cycle of friendship and paying back the banyan tree for her good advice and companionship by introducing her to his children, who become as much friends with and to the banyan tree as their father did in his own boyhood. And while Mahtab Narsimhan’s textual messages for The Boy and the Banyan Tree might indeed feel a trifle heavy-duty and perhaps even just a wee bit preachy, well, considerations of friendship as well as the importance of paying it forward and back, of becoming resilient and not relying on and demanding handouts are important and essential for good mental health and successful and productive relationships and as such The Boy and the Banyan Tree is the perfect antidote to what I personally consider the toxic philosophy of what Shel Silverstein writes about in The Giving Tree, leaving both my adult self and my inner child smiling and with total agreement as to The Boy and the Banyan Tree definitely showing a moral superiority to The Giving Tree and equally a much better and much more positive and useful message (and with the supplemental information Mahtab Narsimhan provides on banyan trees being truly appreciated as well, although the academic in me would certainly want a list of books and websites on banyan trees for further reading and research).

Now with regard to Dharmali Patel’s illustrations for The Boy and the Banyan Tree, yes, her artwork is lush, colourful and provides an aesthetically pleasant mirror to and for Narsimhan’s printed words whilst also showing a realistic visual depiction of what the environmental surroundings of a traditional Indian village look like (including magnificent banyan trees of course). However, while Patel’s landscape portrayals for The Boy and the Banyan Tree are indeed utterly magical and superb, I do find it a bit weird how most of her human figures have really skinny arms, legs and necks but heads that are too overly large for my visual tastes (and which is also why my rating for The Boy and the Banyan Tree is four and not yet five stars, although I do still very highly recommend The Boy and the Banyan Tree and its very successful marriage of text and images).

Robert D. San Souci Cinderella Skeleton, is a quirky, fun and deliciously ghoulish adaptation of the Cinderella fairy tale, and a perfect story for a Halloween read-aloud (I don't want to give away too many spoilers, but Cinderella and all of the other characters are skeletons, they live in a mausoleum, and the Prince's name is Prince Charnel, instead of Prince Charming, just so so perfect).

Although some sensitive, easily spooked children might find the lush, descriptively ghoulish illustrations a bit creepy (parents should make sure that the illustrations will not be too frightening and spooky before reading this tale with or to their children), well, the story itself for Cinderella Skelton is actually quite sweet and not all that frightening (with some interesting and humorous twists, like Cinderella Skeleton's stepfamily leaving for the ball in a hearse, and Cinderella being claimed by her prince by means of a lost foot instead of a lost glass slipper).

Now I don't know if I like the illustrations in and of themselves, and I do wonder whether some of the pictures would have perhaps frightened me a bit as a child (first reading Cinderella Skeleton as an adult, I find the pictures creepy, but fun, a perfect complement to the ghoulishly quirky, poetic narrative). And yes, the story, the narrative had me smiling and giggling right from the start, and I think I would have enjoyed the story even as a child, the rather creepy and ghoulish illustrations notwithstanding. Fore I have always enjoyed clever, fun adaptations of fairy tales, and Cinderella Skeleton is truly fun and imaginative, while at the same time retaining the general feel, the emotions, the themes of the original story.

And as a final word, I kind of wish that Robert D. San Souci had included some supplementary material about Cinderella-like tales and their place in world folklore (since this is more of an original adaptation, the lack of an author's note is not as noticeable, but the folklorist in me still misses it somewhat).

What can I say about Sebastian Meschenmoser’s Waiting for Winter except for wow, what a sweet and simply wonderful little story, with equally enchanting illustrations (although I do wish that my local library also had this book in the original German, as Herr Eichhorn und der erste Schnee but that is likely totally wishful thinking, for while there actually are quite a number of German language books available at the Hamilton Public Library, they are, of course and rather unfortunately generally geared more towards adult readers than towards children).

Now the humour presented by Sebastian Meschenmoser in Waiting for Winter is really quite massively addictive, and the facial expressions of his depicted animals are to and for my eyes and aesthetics simply to die for (they are in many ways uproarious and hilarious, but also capture the distinct personalities of the featured animals in an almost uncanny manner). And I definitely and appreciatively have laughed with pure, unadulterated delight at how the squirrel and the hedgehog try to stay awake for the arrival of snow by singing sea shanties (for yes, I also love singing and listening to sea shanties). And when they then wake up the bear, he literally does look as though he has just fallen out of bed, so very cute and funny, but also so astutely observant, as many would and do act and look like this if they are rather abruptly and rudely awakened. Also and finally, is it not so true that in Waiting for Winter just like how a proverbial watched pot does not boil, the first snowflakes come when the three animals have actually stopped actively waiting for them to arrive (well, they had originally thought the old smelly socks Bear had found were the first snow, but that is beside the point). Thus, only once Squirrel, Hedgehog and Bear have stopped watching or searching for snow, does the snow finally make an appearance and after having had their winter romp, the three friends happily and gladly fall asleep in the bear's den. A magical and deliciously fun (entertaining) winter animal tale, one to be enjoyed not only by children, but by adults as well (and now, I should also make an effort to find, read and review the German original).

Oh, yes, I too love Waiting for Winter.

And I just remembered Press Here, which is about perfect for 'interactive' or 'meta.' Just the right length, the activities make sense and match the pictures... there are a lot of imitations but this is the one that works every time I read it. (No child necessary. ;)

And speaking of 'meta' let's not forget the classic, and, again, just right, The Monster at the End of this Book. I don't want to say more... just, if you've not read it yet (or in awhile) do so now.

Cheryl wrote: "Oh, yes, I too love Waiting for Winter.

And I just remembered Press Here, which is about perfect for 'interactive' or 'meta.' Just the right length, the activities ma..."

I am still hoping to one day get Waiting for Winter in German.

I have to admit that The Bare Naked Book speaks joy simply because it features nudity and that I do find it joyfully hilarious how puritanically weird so many are about natural nudity. As someone originally from Germany, that this puritanically weird attitude is still often flourishing in the USA and also in Canada is both funny but also really really sad for me and to me.

Just to say that I own a recently acquired hardcover copy of Kathy Stinson's 2021 concept picture The Bare Naked Book (with illustrations by Melissa Cho) and have also read (on Open Library) the 1986 first edition of The Bare Naked Book (with illustrations by Heather Collins).

And while the 1986 edition of The Bare Naked Book most definitely was in need of some major updating both verbally and even more so pictorially, since Heather Collins' 1986 illustrations (whilst certainly fun, colourfully engaging, a lovely celebration of bodies sans clothing and for 1980s North America in my humble opinion quite avant garde) ONLY feature white skinned children and adults (and all generally of slender proportions) as well as no individuals with physical challenges, whereas in the 2021 edition of The Bare Naked BookMelissa Cho depicts (and Kathy Stinson writes about) a really wonderful and absolutely visually delightful, aesthetically glorious and engaging blend of ethnic and cultural diversity, with both thin and more corpulent bodies (clothed, naked, engaging in a wide array of different actions and activities) and also featuring wheelchairs, crutches and walking canes (as well as pointing out blindness and deafness), well, personally speaking, I do kind of wish that Kathy Stinson would in the 2021 edition of The Bare Naked Book (and like she does in 1986) still call genitalia penises and vaginas (and not just that to and for me rather vague term genitals).

For indeed, I do think the intended audience for The Bare Naked Book, I do believe that the so-called picture book crowd should learn and be taught those specific terms, and that yes, even if children, if anyone in fact might want to use a more indeterminate noun or description for their own private parts (or generally speaking), they should still be made aware of the terms penis and vagina. As honestly and in my opinion, if someone for example were to say penis or vagina to a child and maybe talk about touching or seeing these, children should be made to know what this means and that this is of course unacceptable, inappropriate and hugely problematic, and I frankly really do not think that Stinson totally achieves this in the 2021 edition of The Bare Naked Book and that the author's note notwithstanding, I definitely would like to see both genitals and penis/vagina appear in The Bare Naked Book and perhaps also some of the more vulgar monikers for genitalia, so that if children were to hear them or have someone say these they would know that these are at best impolite and more than a bit crass (as honestly, Kathy Stinson should just call penises penises and vaginas vaginas as well as using the less focused term of genitals in The Bare Naked Book).

But the above having been said, both text and images for the 2021 incarnation of The Bare Naked Book rate with solidly four stars, are highly personally recommended, and that those "people" who have been challenging The Bare Naked Book and trying and also sadly especially in states like Florida, Texas etc. often succeeding getting The Bare Naked Book (and similar such tomes) banned and removed from library shelves, honestly, do grow up and realise that nakedness is not something depraved and unnatural and that it is in fact much much worse and in fact pretty potentially dangerous to teach children that nudity and their own naked bodies are problematic and shameful.

And the same goes for The Big Bath House

In Kyo Maclear's 2021 picture book The Big Bath House (which is based on the author's own childhood, and shows not only a totally delightful and wonderful textual and visual celebration of both women's bodies and of one very special and wonderful aspect of Japanese culture, but is also even if a bit indirectly demonstrating that language barriers and gaps do not really matter all that much if or when everyone is having fun, everyone is enjoying themselves), a young girl visits her Baachan (Grandmother) in Japan from aboard.

And one day, the little girl (whom I will call Kyo, even though no name is mentioned in the The Big Bath House) meets up with her female relatives (aunts, cousins etc.) and together, they all make their way to the local bath house, where after putting on traditional wooden sandals and yukatas (bathrobes), the women and girls collectively gather with each other and local female friends and acquaintances, and with this indeed and wonderfully joyfully showing to readers and to listeners that visiting the bathhouse is a communal, is a party-like and celebratory event in Japan (and with both Kyo Maclear's text and also Gracey Zhang's beautiful watercolour illustrations glowingly, evocatively depicting and showing this in The Big Bath House, as Zhang's pictures depict the bath house to be a large, open area surrounded by nature, with varying sizes of tubs and sinks, all surrounded by traditional Japanese architecture, a sweetly calming and relaxing atmosphere, and where everyone is enjoying themselves, is chatting, having fun communally bathing and unwinding).

But most notably (and for me delightfully and wonderfully), in The Big Bath House, all the girls and women attending (both young and older) are both textually and visually described by Kyo Maclear's words and by Gracey Zhang's illustrations as being completely naked. And yes indeed, that ALL of Zhang's pictures for The Big Bath House show nudity fully, frontally, realistically, with expressive joy and an absolute illustrative celebration and acceptance of the female body, and indeed with ALL shapes and sizes being depicted positively and with no sense of puritanic shame and hysteria at nakedness, and that nudity is obviously something natural and something positive, for me (and as a persona of German background who has always thought that the North American Victorian sense of nudity being something negative and to be hidden is strange and actually both body and people shaming), Gracey Zhang's illustrations are wonderful and both her pictures and Kyo Mclear's writing do not only do a delightful job showing the Japanese culture of attending bath houses, but yes, the combination of text and images in The Big Bath House show naturally and with an air of celebration and delight that the female body (all sizes, all shapes) should be celebrated and that nakedness is something natural and not something that is problematic and needs to remain hidden.

For yes, in The Big Bath House, everyone disrobes and bathes together in the big bathtub, with the women and girls scrubbing each others' backs, with Baachan washing Kyo's hair, with everyone having collective fun and celebrating family and community (and while as mentioned already, the fact that everyone is naked in The Big Bath House does totally celebrate the body, there is also something so entirely natural with regard to what Kyo Maclear's writes and Gracey Zhang illustrates that The Big Bath House also cannot and should not be seen as some kind of a total focus on nudity, but is first and foremost a celebration of family, of culture, of female community and meeting and having fun together, and well, that the nudity is actually rather incidental and simply something that realistically and naturally will be occurring in a typical Japanese bath house).

Five glowing and shining stars for The Big Bath House and with both Kyo Maclear's text and Gracey Zhang's illustrations being equally and very warmly and ecstatically recommended (not only to for children but really for everyone). And honestly, for those who on Amazon have been calling The Big Bath House pornographic because of the depicted and described nudity, I can only say that these "people" (and the quotes are mine and on purpose) are obviously rather majorly unhinged with regard to the human and in particular the female body, and in particular if they consider bathing in the nude to be unnatural and abnormal (but that sadly, if these individuals have children, they might very well be teaching body shame and other such horrors to their kids, and that I also hope the ranting Amazon one star reviewers will not be able to get The Big Bath House banned from school and public libraries in certain US states, but frustratingly, that I would also not be at all surprised if that were to be the case, as the book banners are getting increasingly rabid and the politicians who support book banning increasingly powerful and strangely Nazi/Stalinist like).

Serena wrote: "Listopias-and completing them- somehow bring me joy! Kathryn or Q, please make or recommend one for me!"

Fun! I will put my thinking cap on :-)

Cheryl wrote: "Great theme! Fight off the top of my head I can say that Ish and others by Peter H. Reynolds about the power of creativity make me smile."

Me, too!

Manybooks wrote: "All of the picture books that spark joy in me also really talk to my inner child."

Same here! Speaking of, here's the link to our August 2022 PBC: Picture Books that Appeal to Your Inner Child
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...

Many of the books on this list have sparked joy in me, too:
Whimsical and Magical Picture books
https://bookshop.org/lists/whimsical-...

As for new-to-me, I'm hoping to browse shelves at the library sometime this month to see if something jumps off the shelf at me, and I've got a few books on request from various branches.

Leave Me Alone!

A both humorously entertaining and also rather reality-imbued, thought-provoking little anecdote (especially for those of us who tend to be a bit introverted and often crave peace and quiet, who sometimes even much require the need for no or at least very little external stimulation and distraction), Vera Brosgol's Leave Me Alone shows the lengths to which a frustrated grandmother with a very small house and a very large family must go in order to finally get enough silent and personal "me" time to finish her knitting, and that not only at home, of course, but also in the supposed tranquility of nature and later even on the moon, the grandmother keeps getting distracted and disturbed, so that to actually and really, to finally get enough peace and quiet to finish her knitting, to work in appreciated silence, she ends up having to go into a wormhole (where in the latter's black and noiseless void, Grandma is finally able to relax and knit, to recharge her shattered nerves before returning with her knitting completed and her soul refreshed to her little house and bustling family).

And while I do indeed much love and appreciate the author's presented narrative (and as rather an introvert myself with an often very short attention span and some at times problematic noise sensitivities) very much feel a massive amount of kinship with the stressed and so sadly annoyed grandmother and her repeated and increasingly angrily frustrated exclamations of Leave me alone!, I also rather believe that Vera Brosgol's text is a bit of a sad commentary on our modern world, especially the salient and worrisome fact that the poor grandmother is so much at the end of her introverted rope that she needs to escape into a type of fantasyland, into actual and deep outer space, into a wormhole in order to finally achieve the peace and quiet she wants and needs (humorous perhaps, but to and for those of us with introversion, with the tendency to be stressed out by cacophonies, by constant demands, questions and such, the humour of Leave Me Alone! is also and really always tinged with sadness and a bit of frustrated annoyance as well).

Now with regard to the accompanying illustrations (also by Vera Brosgol, who functions as both author and illustrator in Leave Me Alone!), they are both expressive and impressive, capturing with success and gracefulness both movement and emotions. I especially love love the grandmother's increasingly penetratingly angry facial expressions, as she begins to realise just how difficult, nay how almost impossible achieving ANY quiet personal time is going to actually be. And while as pictures in and of themselves, the illustrations for Leave Me Alone! are in fact and indeed a trifle too cartoon-like for my personal aesthetics, in conjunction with and to the presented text, the author's printed words, they provide a truly magical and visually pleasing, both fun and thoughtful marriage of text and images (I can most certainly understand and much appreciate how and why Vera Brosgol won a 2017 Caldecott Honour designation for Leave Me Alone!).

And finally, while I did in fact do a bit of a double take with regard to the bear that the grandmother encounters in the wilds not speaking "English" (as I think a less language specific word should have been used instead, such as that the bear does not speak "human" or does not speak a "language"), this actually has not bothered me nearly as much as such types of gaffes often do, and thus, it has also not really affected my general enjoyment and appreciation of Leave Me Alone all that much (and my four star ranking therefore remains intact, although if I were indeed reading Leave Me Alone! aloud to a child or a group of children, I would most likely at least mention that the use of the word "English" with regard to the bear's parlance instead of a less specific linguistic term is perhaps a bit potentially problematic, especially since the illustrations themselves do actually make the grandmother appear rather Russian or at least Eastern European).

Skating Wild on an Inland Sea

Honestly, author Jean E. Pendziwol really and truly must love winter as a season as much as I do, since both her 2013 Once Upon a Northern Night and now her 2023 Skating Wild on an Inland Sea are total and wonderful lyrical picture book celebrations of snow and ice, of winter's majesty and glory (well, at least for those of us who find winter wonderful and also much preferable to spring, summer and autumn).

And even though I have ALWAYS been an utterly useless and clumsily awkward skater, Skating Wild on an Inland Sea most definitely makes me internally sing and jubilate just like Lake Superior, just like Gichigami is said to do (as well as wish that I could in real life experience the ice of Lake Superior, my inability and lack of skating talent totally notwithstanding), with Pendziwol's free form poetry text and Todd Stewart's atmospheric often blue and green hued accompanying artwork showing not only a delightful early morning skate on Lake Superior by an older sister and her younger brother but also totally and absolutely capturing both verbally and illustratively the all encompassing wonder and magic of Lake Superior in winter (a purple predawn with frosted over windows, sea smoke, multiple animal tracks in the snow, the lake ice actually humming and singing, so that readers and also of course listeners of Skating Wild on an Inland Sea are joyfully and enchantingly experiencing Lake Superior in the winter both on shore and on the ice and with the open water of Lake Superior the inland sea a bit further ahead, misty, mysteriously entrancing, emanating a large wall of sea smoke).

Verbal and visual beauty combine and dance together in Skating Wild on an Inland Sea, showing an absolutely lovely and frosty, bracingly chilly winter wonderland of text and images, and a shining and glowing five star rating from me for both Jean E. Pendziwol's words and Todd Stewart's pictures. But yes, I must admit that I also am approaching and enjoying Skating Wild on an Inland Sea with a bit of a feeling of potential loss and even dread, since with today's ever increasing human (and industry) caused global warming trends, being able to skate in the winter on Lake Superior and hearing Gichigami's ice singing, well, this might sadly soon be a thing of the past if we do not manage to slow down pollution and emissions on a global level. And while the possibility and likely even the probability of unchecked climate change leading to no more or not sufficient winter ice on Lake Superior in the near future for skating does not make Skating Wild on an Inland Sea feel in any way textually unpleasant, it does make me feel a painful sense of nostalgia and a sense of longing for a winter that will soon no longer exist even in the northern boreal forests of Lake Superior.

Once Upon a Northern Night

Considering that the ice and snow of a white and glistening northern Canadian winter are amongst my very favourite features of the season (and one of the main reasons I do not think I could ever permanently relocate to a country, or to an area of a country where there is no winter or where winter primarily signifies rain and greyness, such as the coastal areas of British Columbia or the Pacific Northwest), I was already expecting to much enjoy Jean E. Pendziwol's Once Upon a Northern Night when I recently grabbed it as an impulse purchase at a local independent bookstore. That being said, I absolutely did not expect Once Upon a Northern Night to be quite as exquisite, as wondrous, as mysteriously caressing as it turned out to be (and after one casual perusal, already a permanent member on my favourites shelf). With tender and descriptive (but not ever overly verbose) lyricism and grace, the author's winter inspired poetry provides a sweet and celebratory paean to the season, to winter nights (to pure white dancing, prancing snowflakes that cover the earth like a soft blanket, the many nocturnal animals that frolic on and in the virgin snow, silently foraging grasses, frozen fruit and scattered birdseed, to the stars, and the northern lights singing songs of wintry praise across the night sky). Combined with Isabelle Arsenault's equally magical illustrations (mostly frosty white, with splashes of colour to deliciously and evocatively offset), this in all things perfect marriage of text and image melodiously and jubilantly paints and chants not only a rejoicing in and glorification of winter, but also features a tenderly sweet, caressing lullaby-like cadence and rhythm (softly rocking to sleep, to rest, both readers and listeners with delightful visions of snow and ice, the chilled, calm and yet euphonious silence of northern, of Canadian winter nights). Absolutely, totally hypnotic and irresistible in every way, and most highly recommended for ANYONE (and not just for children).

Not authentic and realistic but totally fun and imaginative (and yes, set in Drumheller, Alberta, which is known for its dinosaur fossils, Drumheller Dinosaur Dance, so so so much fun).

Rollicking, rhythmic, and fun, Robert Heidbreder's Drumheller Dinosaur Dance is in my opinion truly in many ways a simply perfect choice for young dinosaur enthusiasts (although the fact that there are indeed quite a number of somewhat advanced vocabulary choices featured might well render the author's verses a trifle too potentially difficult and advanced for especially recently independent readers to tackle Drumheller Dinosaur Dance on their own, but then again, considering that with its song/dance like rhymes and word-based fun and games, a book such as Drumheller Dinosaur Dance does generally much more seem to be destined for sharing with children and even groups of many children than for children to read this quietly and on their own, in other words, I would consider Drumheller Dinosaur Dance first and foremost if not even totally a fun and engagingly entertaining read-aloud).

Now the above having been said, I feel that I do have to reiterate and point out that Drumheller Dinosaur Dance is not in ANY way whatsoever meant to be a scientific, a factual introduction to dinosaurs as an extinct group of prehistoric animals, as the featured dinosaurs, who come out at night as skeletons to dance and frolic before once again at dawn returning to their badlands resting places under the soil, they are simply the main characters in a fun little escapist fantasy of dancing fun and a wee bit of mayhem (with Bill Slavin's and Esperanca Melo's accompanying pictures providing an enjoyable and indeed rather wonderful mirror to and for Robert Heidbreder's lively and engaging poetry). Highly recommended (but with the small caveat that while the illustrated dinosaur skeletons dancing and making a generally joyful noise are indeed visually fun and entertaining, the pictures are by the necessity of Drumheller Dinosaur Dance taking place at night, rather darkly hued, and I do wonder if very very sensitive children might also perhaps be a bit frightened of seeing dinosaur skeletons dancing, playing musical instruments, romping around and shaking their bones).

The Silence Slips In

How absolutely wonderful it is that in our contemporary era of noise and racket and where many unfortunately also do seem to consider that silence is not only no longer golden but actually something frightening and creepy (as personally, I have more often than not been told by my supposedly nearest and dearest that my sensitivity to noisy situations and my usually preferring quietly reading or writing to socializing is and I quote here unhealthy and potentially psychologically problematic) Alison Hughes (author) and Ninon Pelletier (illustrator) just so totally and wholly celebrate and fete quietness and solitude in their The Silence Slips In.

Now I do indeed love everything about The Silence Slips In, from Alison Hughes’ gently soft and caressing narrative which melodiously sings the praises of silence and provides reassurance that quietness is both positive and nothing out of the ordinary to Ninon Pelletier sweet and visually soft illustrations, where silence is perhaps depicted as something or rather someone gigantic but also never as frightening and always full of engaging tenderness and delight, and where darkness is equally shown as something positive and conducive to quietude and therefore nothing to be feared but to be welcomed as a time of restfulness.

And as an absolute introvert who has always found too much loud noise both annoying and as a child both overwhelming and sometimes rather horribly frightening, I for one also do not take any issue whatsoever with Ninon Pelletier in The Silence Slips In drawing and depicting noise as a potentially fearsome monster and Alison Hughes narrationally describing it as being hammering, yammering, clattering and thus the very and decidedly negative opposite of quietude. For in fact I personally do majorly welcome the clearly demonstrated visual and textual negativity of noise (albeit that I guess it should perhaps also be discussed that noise is equally a major part of our modern lives and as such not to be ignored and that yes even those of us super-sensitive to noise must somehow learn how to successfully cope with it, since noise will not ever just completely vanish and disappear out of our existence either).

I absolutely love Du Iz Tak? and find the the story and trying to figure out the bug's language majorly joy sparking

Honestly, Carson Ellis' absolutely delightful Du Iz Tak? (What is That?) is for me not only a perfect picture book both illustratively and textually, but is also a book which I dearly wish I could rate with more than the five star maximum allowed by Goodreads (as in my opinion, Du Iz Tak? is a ten star offering, a glowingly amazing and evocative homage to life, to the seasons, to imagination and fun, and to have a text, to have a narrative that presents an invented language, well, for linguistically inclined and interested me, that was and is truly the appreciated icing on an already most delightful and delicious cake).

And aside from the fact that I do oh so much love love love the illustrations, the both detailed and also sweetly simple and colourful renderings of imagined insect life (and really, truly, I for one have enjoyed Carson Ellis' pictorial images and colour schemes so much that I am indeed feeling a tiny bit grumpy that Du Iz Tak? has ONLY won a 2017 Caldecott Honour designation and not the actual Caldecott Medal), in this here review, I will and of course mostly be waxing poetic with regard to the presented narrative, with regard to the author's invented text, an "artificial" language that is both simple and profound, and a constructed narrative that actually (or at least this has been the case for me) has been relatively easy to figure out simply by using the context of the illustrations and basic universal language rules and facts.

Of course, that Carson Ellis has remained basically close to the general word order of the English language (and with that I mean that her presented "insect" sentences generally follow a subject-verb-predicate order) this does indeed make trying to figure out what the invented words and sentences might (or do) mean considerably easier (as there are also languages with word orders that are the inverse, where for example the direct or indirect objects actually tend to come come before the subject, or the German language, where no matter what one puts in first position, the second position in a main clause always has to be occupied by the conjugated verb), but still Du Iz Tak? is a delightfully challenging and engaging basic language concepts learning exercise tool, a wonderful and oh so much fun activity that can (due to the language of the narrative being invented and thus artificial) be used in many different ways and means to show, to practice, to engage students in a fun and unthreatening, non grammar and translation method type of language learning and teaching (and I do know one thing, that the next time, I am teaching a first year German college or university language course, I will very likely if not definitely be using Du Iz Tak? to get my students used to basic remedial grammar rules in general, something that I often and unfortunately have to do, since at the primary and secondary level, basic grammar is now often not even being taught anymore and often actually not allowed by school boards to be taught, and students thus often come into an elementary post secondary foreign language course not even knowing the differences between subject and verb, that questions have different punctuation requirements etc.).

Highly recommended is Du Iz Tak?, especially for those of us who love word and language-based riddles and games (and really, if you take your time with the text, and think back to language as a construct and if you also use the accompanying illustrations as a bit of a guide, you should be able to easily figure out all if not most of the presented story, of Carson Ellis' invented insect language).

And by the way, whilst reading Du Iz Tak? for the first time, I did have a few minor little possible comprehension issues with the fact that some of the words presented by author Carson Ellis as her invented insect tongue seem to have been gleaned verbatim from commonly used languages such as German and Danish (for example the "du" of the title, which is supposed to mean "what" in German means "you" and "tak" which is supposed to mean "that" in Carson Ellis' insect lingo is the Danish word for "thank you" and thus when I originally started perusing the invented language text of Du Iz Tak, the former did interfere a bit and somewhat distract me), but not enough to consider anything but a glowing and shining five stars for this absolute treasure and pleasure of a picture book (and I actually seriously doubt that the author is even all that aware of the fact that some of her artificial insect speak appears in languages such as German and Danish, I mean, I only noticed this because I happen to speak German and have tried to read Danish on occasion).

Totally joyful, but I bet Alex and Alex is on various bool banning "hit lists" because it is gender neutral.

I guess I am not really surprised that the 2021 picture book Alex and Alex (and published in the United Kingdom, so there are a few very British expressions being used, such as for example "cross" instead of "angry") seems to have some reviewers more than a bit up in arms and kind of frothing at the proverbial mouth so to speak regarding how both Ziggy Hanaor's words and Ben Javens' artwork for Alex and Alex are absolutely and totally gender neutral, are free of questions of gender entirely and totally, that the latter thus cannot really be detected at all either from Hanaor's text or from Javens' accompanying pictures. And yes, this in particular, it totally makes me very broadly and happily smile with appreciation and joyfulness regarding Alex and Alex, since the book, since Alex and Alex both textually and illustratively totally and joyfully, sweetly celebrates friendship and a friendship that is lovely, all encompassing, totally gender neutral, and also shows that even two children like the two Alexes of the book title with different likes, interests and personalities can easily become the very best of friends, and that even occasional disagreements are basically mostly just on the surface, insignificant and early made up and rectified.

But indeed, while I am not as already mentioned above surprised that there are quite a number of claims regarding supposed inappropriateness being cast at Alex and Alex and that for some hysterical puritans, any type of described and depicted gender neutrality is obviously something inherently problematic and seemingly evil and depraved, I do have to derisively and angrily laugh at those of you who would think in that manner (although yes, I am also really and truly saddened, not to mention kind of frightened by the fact and truth how in so many US states, hysterical puritans, including politicians, lawmakers, school board officials, and so called special interest groups of "parents" and ignoramuses are seemingly increasingly having power and control over which books are acceptable for children and for classroom use, and that Alex and Alex will most likely end up as a universally challenged and banned picture books in states like Florida, Texas, Missouri and other Social Conservative areas of the United States).

And really and in a forward and not backward thinking society of intelligent and not restrictive and Taliban like attitudes and worldviews, with Alex and Alex, it should be totally and also universally accepted and celebrated that neither of the two featured young children named Alex are seen either textually and illustratively as male or female (or indeed as any kind of specific gender), but simply as children, and that for many and probably even for the majority of young children, gender is actually something quite unimportant and let's face it often something artificially superimposed by parents, by organised religion and by society, that friendship is friendship regardless of gender. Or rather, that this of course should be the case in a so-called perfect world, and with Alex and Alex providing a delightful verbal and pictorial feting of this, of something that is wonderful, sweetly un-stereotypical but also to a point probably also more than a bit of wishful thinking and hoping by both the author, by Ziggy Hanaor, and also by the illustrator, by Ben Javens (with Hanaor's sweetly, delightfully simple and positive, affirming text showing itself as wonderfully aesthetically mirrored by Javens' totally gender neutral pictures and vice versa). And yes, while I usually do not enjoy computer generated illustrations all that much, for Alex and Alex, this totally works and I really love love love how Ben Javens' Alex and Alex look so very much like Playmobil figures, and as such also harken back to the fact that many Playmobil figures are very much ungendered (and that I as a child loved my Playmobil figures precisely because they more often than not could be any gender, and were not specifically not that girl/boy oriented, and that even the Playmobil figures wearing skirts and dresses looked pretty much the same facially as those not wearing those articles of clothing).

Lovely story and lovely artwork, and I do wish that The Baker by the Sea were better known.

With her 2022 and debut picture book The Baker by the Sea (and which is also on the long list for the 2023 Kate Greenaway Medal), Paula White (who serves as both author and illustrator for The Baker by the Sea) both textually and illustratively provides a sweet, gentle and nostalgic evocation and celebration of life (or rather what life used to be like) in a small Sussex England oceanside village, a village where going out to sea to fish for a living is obviously the main source of income, but where the young main protagonist and narrator's father is in fact not a fisherman but instead the village baker. But aside from The Baker by the Sea celebrating village life and the fishery (although really not all that gruesomely in my opinion and with only a few featured images of caught and dead fish) White equally demonstrates how the young boy providing his story to and for us (and who originally in The Baker by the Sea wants to become a fisherman when he grows up and is also quite undervaluing his father's career as a baker), we'll, by the end of The Baker by the Sea not only does our young narrator appreciate how his father's baking provides bread, buns, biscuits, provides nourishment for all of the village, including the boatbuilders and fishermen and women but that perhaps he will also consider this, perhaps he will also consider becoming a baker as his career choice. For yes, even in a village which depends on the sea, on boats and fishing for most of its jobs and most of its salaries and earnings, without accompanying non fishery and sea-going establishments, such as the featured and described village bakery, the sea faring folk would indeed not thrive, not flourish, that basically there are multiple roles to play in The Baker by the Sea (and that a village with no bread and other baked goods would certainly be a very lacking, a very poor and sad place to call home).

Now with regard to Paula White's pencil-and-ink illustrations of mostly muted black, white, grey and with a few very subtle and almost unnoticeable touches of blue and yellow, they are delightfully expressive, flowingly, glowingly old-fashioned (in its best possible way) and provide a truly in all ways aesthetically gorgeous pictorial mirror of and for the printed words, which are also of course penned by White (and with the pictures sometimes even showing considerably more details and information than the presented text of The Baker by the Sea does). And indeed and yes, for me (with for both my adult reading self and equally my inner child strongly agreeing here), The Baker by the Sea, ranks shiningly and totally five stars (albeit more than a bit grudgingly, I do have to wonder bit if the very sweet and totally gentle nature of The Baker by the Sea might not be just a trifle too sedate for those young readers and/or listeners who might want and crave more action and also more conflict, with this thought at all being criticism regarding The Baker by the Sea, just a personal observation and that today's young children often seem more into picture books that are intensely colourful and present "exciting" stories and adventures).

Read The Queen on Our Corner last year (as it was long listed for the Kate Greenaway Medal), an evocative story of homelessness and with a lovely and joyful ending.

According to Lucy Christopher's author's note for her 2021 picture book The Queen on Our Corner, the featured story was inspired by Christopher's real-life encounters and interactions with displaced and homeless people (with yes, The Queen on Our Corner textually being presented from the viewpoint of a child, and with the young girl's first person voice feeling delightfully authentic and realistic, in other words reading, sounding like a girl and not like Lucy Christopher is artificially trying to textually appear young, which for me is always essential and important regarding any children's books penned in the first person, that the tone needs to reflect the age of the narrator, and The Queen on Our Corner most definitely does and achieves this). And as the plot of The Queen on Our Corner opens, the young girl, the young protagonist seems be the only person in her neighbourhood who has positively and with actual empathy, with kindness noticed the solitary and homeless woman sitting with her dog in a corner (on a bench), with her neighbours either not taking notice of the woman at all or if they do only negatively and wanting her gone, not desiring homelessness and people who are without shelter, without a residence in their area. But indeed and with a realism and a sense of mea culpa that is very much appreciated by me, the little girl narrating The Queen on Our Corner also admits having walked past initially, but of later making the homeless woman's acquaintance, talking with her, listening to her stories, and after listening to these calling her the neighbourhood's Queen, contemplating the possible battles said Queen has participated in, the journeys she has made, the dragons she might have fought and that she, that the homeless woman sitting alone and stoically on her bench is actually and actively guarding the little girl and her neighbours (and also having won over her mother and introduced her to the "Queen", with both mother and daughter often stopping by, brining food, drink, company and also often just listening, just being there for the homeless woman, showing that they care, that she is important, that she has had an interesting life worth sharing and listening to).

But indeed, one hot and bone-dry summer night actual and bona fide danger comes to the area, to the neighbourhood of The Queen on Our Corner in the form of a huge and raging wind-swept wildfire, and with the generally unappreciated, unnoticed and sometimes even actively denigrated (by many) neighbourhood "Queen" saving the day so to speak by yelling, by shouting loudly and warning residents of the danger. And while Lucy Christopher's hopeful and wonderfully optimistic ending to The Queen on Our Corner (of our narrator telling the neighbourhood that it indeed was the homeless woman sitting and basically living on a bench who first noticed and warned of the fire, and with the neighbours not only suddenly appreciating their guardian "Queen" but also not only providing her with basic necessities but also coming together to collectively build a home for her) is perhaps just a bit too unilaterally and all encompassingly positive (and also a bit out of the proverbial blue), well, both my adult reading self and even more so my inner child totally adore The Queen on Our Corner precisely for its hopefulness and furthermore also for the author's message regarding the importance of being aware of homelessness, that being kind and empathetic to the homeless is essential, that they not only need our support but also often just someone who listens to them, who talks with them and considers their lives and their stories interesting, important and sharable. And of course with The Queen on Our Corner also both textually but also illustratively showing that judging based only on appearances and what is visible on the surface is at best wrong and at worst horrible and majorly unacceptable human behaviour (and with me also really and majorly appreciating how Lucy Christopher's narrator and her mother are persons of colour but how the ethnic diversity of the neighbourhood in The Queen on Our Corner is so natural and so accepted that one only actually and happily notices this because Nia Tudor's accompanying artwork, that there are actually not any textual indications of this).

And yes, Nia Tudor's accompanying artwork for The Queen on Our Corner it really and truly provides an absolutely spectacular visual mirror to and for Lucy Christopher's printed words (capturing the emotions, the feelings, the spirit of Lucy Christopher's text but also very much aesthetically expanding, providing details either only hinted at or not even being mentioned by Christopher, such as the above mentioned ethnic diversity and providing a richly detailed picture of both the neighbourhood featured in The Queen on Our Corner and also of the stories and the battle scenes that the young girl is imagining the "Queen" as having experienced (and that I do very much appreciate The Queen on Our Corner currently being on the long list for the 2023 Kate Greenaway Medal for Nia Tudor's illustrations).

Finally, I also ended up reading a few rather strange reviews of The Queen on Our Corner which basically seem to take a lot of umbrage regarding fact that we never actually get to know why the homeless woman befriended by the little girl is homeless and that the young narrator is a POC and that the homeless woman is not, is Caucasian. But honestly, we in my opinion absolutely do not need to know any of the reasons for the Queen on the corner being homeless except simply that she is indeed homeless and needs help, support and being appreciated. And really why should for and in The Queen on Our Corner either the narrator's or the homeless woman's ethnicity in any way matter or be considered as some important issue? For come one, it does not matter and should not matter that the little girl who narrates The Queen on Our Corner has dark skin and the homeless woman she befriends has white skin, and Lucy Christopher actually shows that with her text (as only Nia Tudor's illustrations show ethnicities), and frankly, anyone who has issues with the depicted ethnicities of The Queen on Our Corner in my opinion has some rather hidden issues regarding race, and issues that are actually totally ridiculous.

A Christmas Dollhouse (the ending is really nicely joy filled).

FOUND AND READ ON OPEN LIBRARY

Well, I do have to admit that Richard Rudnicki's presented text for his 2012 historical fiction picture book A Christmas Dollhouse is definitely a trifle lacking with regard to parts of his writing style. For yes, I certainly do and very much so wish there were rather more of a sense of historical time and geographic place present in A Christmas Dollhouse. As while I know that A Christmas Dollhouse takes place in Depression era Nova Scotia, Canada (and thus of course in the 1930s), honestly, if I had not in fact been aware of this fact prior to reading A Christmas Dollhouse, from Rudnicki's words alone I would not really have figured A Christmas Dollhouse to be situated in Nova Scotia or in fact anywhere in the Canadian Maritimes, I most likely would have simply assumed A Christmas Dollhouse to be taking place in some generic endroit in Canada (or even in parts of the USA) where there is lots of snow in winter and where everyone basically knows everyone (because no, Richard Rudnicki's text for A Christmas Dollhouse does not really all that much if at all say Depression era Nova Scotia to me).

However, while stylistically speaking A Christmas Dollhouse therefore leaves a bit to be desired for me, yes indeed, Richard Rudnicki's specific contents and his thematics for A Christmas Dollhouse, they certainly are sweet and as such also quite (if not totally and absolutely) delightful. And that I indeed almost teared up when it turns out in A Christmas Dollhouse that young Dot (whose family is facing hardship due to the Depression, whose mother is ailing and whose Christmas will thus be sparse and with only a few very practical gifts, namely new boots for Dot and with her siblings also getting only clothing based presents) receives the large and beautiful dollhouse that was being raffled off at Mr. Russell's drugstore because EVERYONE in the village had written Dot's name on their raffle own tickets (and no, Dot's father could not even afford to purchase a one dollar raffle ticket and Dot also never considered asking him if she could enter the raffle), this has made me (stylistic issues rather notwithstanding) rate A Christmas Dollhouse with four stars (and even with the accompanying artwork being much too gaudy and garishly bright for my aesthetics not making me want to consider A Christmas Dollhouse with a lesser rating, as both text and images do work quite well together, and not to mention that A Christmas Dollhouse is not only a sweet story but is also based on true events, is based on the childhood of Don MacKenzie, who constructed hand-made dollhouses that he would donate to charity in appreciation and in recognition of his sister receiving a dollhouse Christmas present from the entire village as a young girl).

Manybooks wrote: "Lovely story and lovely artwork, and I do wish that The Baker by the Sea were better known.

With her 2022 and debut picture book The Baker by the Sea (and which is also on the long..."

It is at two of the four libraries that I use and I have just requested it.

Manybooks wrote: "Skating Wild on an Inland Sea

Honestly, author Jean E. Pendziwol really and truly must love winter as a season as much as I do, since both her 2013 Once Upon a Northern Night and ..."

I'm placing this one on hold at he library! Looks wonderful. Ten copies in the database and nine are checked out. Glad it's being read :-)

Kathryn wrote: "Manybooks wrote: "Skating Wild on an Inland Sea

Honestly, author Jean E. Pendziwol really and truly must love winter as a season as much as I do, since both her 2013 Once Upon a N..."

Oh I am so glad the book is being read as well. And I do hope you enjoy it.

I Am a Meadow Mermaid!
Elly MacKay's illustrations spark joy in me and Kallie George's story is lovely; reading this book was like slipping happy daydream for me. My sister and I loved pretending to be a mermaid when we went swimming as kids, and I love the ocean... now, I'm landlocked and miss it so much. The farmland this little girl plays in reminds me of my area now so perhaps I should take inspiration from her and imagine I am a meadow mermaid! ;-) I'm so grateful that, if I have to be landlocked, I am in big sky country because the sky reminds me of the ocean sometimes.
"I am a meadow mermaid.
I see the sea in the sky,
starfish in the stars,
a whale's tale in the slip of the moon.
I feel the waves in the wheat,
swim through oceans of grass,
and hide in coral-colored flowers."
This book is a beautiful celebration of the power of imagination and friendship and the illustrations are so luminous and joyful. Love!

The Chirri & Chirra books delight me. I know I would have loved them as a girl, but discovering them as a mom and sharing them with my boys was super special. I keep hoping for more! I checked out Chirri & Chirra: The Snowy Day because we are in for a lot of snow this week and I welcome the reminder of how magical it can be.

Knowing the Name of a BirdI definitely felt a spark of joy when I went to check out our stack of books from the library and saw this one on the cart for books patrons decided not to check out! Serendipity! The cover is gorgeous (I love robins) and it really spoke to me as my dad and I loved watching birds together. The illustrations inside are just as lovely and I'll look for more by the illustrator. The is more of a musing than an actual story (the blurb calls it an "ornithological ode") inspired by Richard Feynman's quote, "You can know the name of a bird in all the languages of the world, but when you're finished you'll know absolutely nothing whatever about the bird." Author Jane Yolen says in her note, "it matters little to the bird what we call it, unless we learn its song and can speak to it in its own tongue."

Kathryn wrote: "Knowing the Name of a BirdI definitely felt a spark of joy when I went to check out our stack of books from the library and saw this one on the cart for books patrons decided not to..."

I have this on my to read list as well.

I will look for that! (Did you-all know that birds that are named after people are getting renamed, so no more Cooper's hawk, Audubon's warbler, etc.)

So, I'm having trouble with this topic. I need to go into the library in person and also dig through past reads. I know lots of books that make me smile, or that make me feel more inspired or hopeful for having read them. But "joy" is a strong word.

The most joyful book, to me, that I've read this past week is Clovis Keeps His Cool. I mean, a bull in a china shop, great premise, amIright.... And then the way it all works out, well, lots of smiles over here.

I very much enjoyed, just now, The Cardboard Piano. A story that needs to be read with some care, as it explores the trickier aspects of friendship.

It's also an intergenerational friendship story.

I read the copy that is archived on openlibrary.org.

Cheryl wrote: "I will look for that! (Did you-all know that birds that are named after people are getting renamed, so no more Cooper's hawk, Audubon's warbler, etc.)."

I didn't know! Fascinating. I just read up about it. Thank you.

Cheryl wrote: "So, I'm having trouble with this topic. I need to go into the library in person and also dig through past reads. I know lots of books that make me smile, or that make me feel more inspired or hopeful for having read them. But "joy" is a strong word."

Yes, I checked out several books from the library that looked promising when I browsed online but, while enjoyable and pleasant, they didn't really give that zing of joy that some do. I, too, am hoping to have time at the library to browse and see what might jump out at me but so far we've been fitting in library visits between storms and cramming in other errands and appointments so I've only had time to pick up the holds. Speaking of which, I'm adding "Clovis Keeps His Cool" to the list -- sounds like an important subject handled with humor and love the cover!

I was utterly delighted by What's Inside a Caterpillar Cocoon?: And Other Questions About Moths & Butterflies and it definitely brought me joy. The illustrations are a combination of cartoony humor and exquisitely realistic artistry that is hard to explain but really worked for me. (You can see, on the cover, the super cute caterpillar with his smiley face while the moth is beautifully rendered and quite life-like; and, oh, those gorgeous flowers and the cocoon!) The information is accessible for youngsters while also being rich and interesting. I love that moths are included as well as butterflies. Picture books largely favor butterflies and certainly butterflies are beautiful but moths deserve admiration, too. Moths are beautiful in a quieter way -- I love their gentle, muted colors and softness (those fuzzy heads and feathered antennae!) By the way, while both moths and butterflies go through a caterpillar life stage, butterflies emerge from a chrysalis and moths from a cocoon--so that's actually a moth on the cover (yay!) Totally chock-full of information, but never visually overstimulating for me, and held the attention of my eight-year-old who says he already knew a lot about butterflies and moths ;-)

Kathryn wrote: "Cheryl wrote: "I will look for that! (Did you-all know that birds that are named after people are getting renamed, so no more Cooper's hawk, Audubon's warbler, etc.)."

I didn't know! Fascinating. ..."

Girl Scout here. Thanks, Cheryl, I didn't know either but I probably need to for some badge.

Browsing the library for appealing covers, this turned out to be a good find: A Tree for Emmy.

Emmy loves the mimosa growing at Grannie's because it's "stubborn and strong and a little bit wild" like her. And now I want one, too.

Cheryl wrote: "Browsing the library for appealing covers, this turned out to be a good find: A Tree for Emmy.

Emmy loves the mimosa growing at Grannie's because it's "stubborn and strong and a lit..."

Sounds awesome! Love the cover.

I found myself using the word joy in my review for The Very Inappropriate Word so here's my four-star review:

Don't miss the endpapers (and note that they are different). I appreciate the blond mother fixing the toilet, and Black father admonishing her for saying the very inappropriate word. More importantly, it's a funny story. With a satisfying and very fitting solution.

Btw, fans of concrete poetry, and vice-versa, will enjoy this book. And any fan of word-play. It's not a didactic moral tale but just a joy to read.

Cheryl wrote: "I found myself using the word joy in my review for The Very Inappropriate Word so here's my four-star review:

Don't miss the endpapers (and note that they are different). I appreci..."

Haha, sounds fun! I'll have to look for it.

A few of the books I picked out earlier this month from online library catalog based on cover art or description that sounded promising ended up being fine, but nothing that "sparked joy" so I'm not going to mention them here. I'm eagerly awaiting Lonely Planet Kids Happiness Around the World 1 but it's currently out to another patron.
I've still not been able to get into the children's section at the library to browse but maybe this week (the weather is finally being more cooperative!). If not, I've got a few others that I did really love (including The Hidden World of Gnomes, which some of you recommended elsewhere -- thank you!) and will try to get reviews written soon.

Thank you to Cheryl for recommending Clovis Keeps His Cool, and Gundula for recommending Skating Wild on an Inland Sea -- I enjoyed both immensely.

Sun Bread This brought me some much needed joy in the form of illustrated sunshine as we've had a relentless inversion layer here and it's been gray-gray-gray. I read this years ago and gave it three stars, but I think I appreciated it more this time -- probably because I lived in a sunnier place before and couldn't fully empathize with how necessary a beautiful loaf of sun bread could be! Elisa Kleven was popular in our household when my oldest was younger -- he really seemed drawn to her illustrations -- so it was sweetly nostalgic to return to one of her books now and I was happy that both boys sat to listen as I read aloud. I will say that I do wish the sun bread recipe was healthier, but I hope that families who wish to emulate the baker in this book can find another recipe adapted to their family's dietary needs -- it's not the recipe itself that matters but the spirit of making something cheerful and uplifting to bring "sunshine" to a dark day.

Kathryn wrote: "Thank you to Cheryl for recommending Clovis Keeps His Cool, and Gundula for recommending Skating Wild on an Inland Sea -- I enjoyed both immensely."

Glad you enjoyed Skating Wild on an Inland Sea (it is joyful, but I also kind of think that with global warming, who knows how long skating wild on Lake Superior safely will in fact be possible).

I do like a good meta or interactive book. They tend to make me giggle, and imo that counts as joy. Hey, Bruce!: An Interactive Book works. I'm only giving it three stars because it's unrelenting; Bruce has no agency nor relief, and as an adult that wearies me. Also, it's too big to easily actually do the actions (like rotating the book 'round and 'round) requested. But it did make me giggle!

Since my preferred name actually MEANS joy, I will be giving recommendations of joyous books to each of you here.

To QNPoohBear: Wacky Wednesday by Dr. Seuss
To Kathryn;Dear Mrs. LaRue: Letters from Obedience School +3 sequels
To Cheryl: What the Sun/Moon Sees by Nancy Tafuri
To Manybooks; Bedhead by Palladino [not sure of author's first name]

Serena wrote: "Since my preferred name actually MEANS joy, I will be giving recommendations of joyous books to each of you here.

To QNPoohBear: Wacky Wednesday by Dr. Seuss
To Kathryn;[book:Dear Mrs. LaRue: Lett..."

Thank you. I'll add it to my list. If I remember and can find it, I'll get it on Tuesday evening when I'm at my book club meeting at another library. Otherwise it will have to wait for spring.

Pooh,
It's on the World's Largest Sprocument. The giant spreadsheet called something like ''Dr. M-------------'s Database of Book Censorship Since 2021'' that you sent me.

Bedhead by Margie Palatini, is that the book? It looks fun.

I would suggest books by Skating Wild on an Inland Sea and Once Upon a Northern Night by Jean E. Pendziwol (Canadian)

and as an antidote to The Giving Tree The Boy and the Banyan Tree by Mahtab Narsimhan (Indian Canadian).

Manybooks wrote: "Bedhead by Margie Palatini, is that the book? It looks fun.

I would suggest books by Skating Wild on an Inland Sea and [book:Once Upon a Northern Nig..."
Yes, that IS the book. I stand corrected on the author name. Planning to read your books on Confederation Day if I can find them by then.

Serena wrote: "Manybooks wrote: "Bedhead by Margie Palatini, is that the book? It looks fun.

I would suggest books by Skating Wild on an Inland Sea and [book:Once U..."

You know, it has always intensely bothered me that while it is relatively easy to easily find American picture books in Canada, it is seemingly much more difficult to find Canadian picture books in the USA.