My Language Is a Garden

Written by E.G. Alaraj

Illustrated by Rachel Wada

Orca Book Publishers

978-1-4598-4065-2

32 pp.

Ages 6–8

February 2026 

 

How a child begins to learn a language is a complex process of exposure and comprehension. It involves being introduced to it from those who speak it and who cherish it. And when it's taught with love and reverence, it almost sacred. For this father sharing his language with his child, it's everything.

From My Language Is a Garden, written by E.G. Alaraj, illustrated by Rachel Wada

In evocative rhyming verse, E.G. Alaraj gives a father voice to embody his language with memories and meaning as he shares it with his daughter. It's obvious how much his language means to him, reminiscent of people and places, and tastes, smells, and sounds. E.G. Alaraj gives weight to this parent's words, both tender and passionate.  

My language roams the desert

And fills its pails with sand.

Builds castles, forts, and shelters

That stretch across the land. (pg. 12) 

From My Language Is a Garden, written by E.G. Alaraj, illustrated by Rachel Wada

This father is determined, but not vehement, drawing on images of cities and mountains, shores and markets, to convey what language can bring and conjure. There is magic in language, and he is earnest about sharing this with his child.

Our language, it will bloom—

Add sweetness to the air,

And tie my heart to yours,

 

So I'm with you everywhere. (pg. 27–29)

E.G. Alaraj's poem is emotional, as is the premise upon which it is based. Her author's note explains her husband's efforts to help their children learn and then retain their Arabic language. But My Language Is a Garden could speak to any parent or educator teaching a heritage language, hopeful of children holding that connection with culture and ancestry, as they balance contemporary influences outside of that language. But instead of drilling that language and forcing communication by using it, this father invites and illustrates with much affection and safety, coaxing his child to see and feel the language, just as the reader does with E.G. Alaraj's expressive words. The rhyming verses soothe and transport, as well as entice inwards and open worlds beyond. 

From My Language Is a Garden, written by E.G. Alaraj, illustrated by Rachel Wada

As dramatic as E.G. Alaraj's words are, Rachel Wada's illustrations give them artistic substance. Her art was created digitally and feels like watercolours, suspending people and places in different times and spaces. Rachel Wada, whose art has honoured books like I Am Wind: An Autobiography (Rachel Poliquin, 2024) and Shizue's Path (Mark Sakamoto, 2023), expresses strength and sensitivity with her use of line and shape. Whether in her gloriously lush gardens of poppies, in the rolling dunes of sand, or in the branches and stems of trees, Rachel Wada makes big locales seem personal and intimate, and the people within them connected.

 

As teachers and parents in Canada, we often use English language acquisition and learning as milestones for children, but learning a heritage language should be similarly appreciated. Beyond its purpose in communication, those languages help connect children with their families, their cultures, and their ancestors. It gives their lives colour and history, heart and identity. This father's language, depicted as a living entity that grows and feels, nurtures and responds, already enriches his life, connecting him with so much, and E.G. Alaraj makes us hopeful that he is able to cultivate that same abundance for his child.

Together: A Book about Community

Written and illustrated by Elise Gravel

North Winds Press (Scholastic Canada)

978-1-0397-1283-6

40 pp.

Ages 6–9

October 2025

 

As Canadians head into their Thanksgiving weekend, many will be thinking about the concept of community. What is a community? Why should we have communities? Do I have a community? How do I make a community? While a big concept in general, community will be a vague concept for young children. They might know the benefits of community, but grasping the nuances of community may be more challenging. Thankfully, Elise Gravel, author-illustrator of concept books like It's My Brain! (2024),  It's My Body! (2022), and Everybody! (2021), is heartily up for that challenge.

 

From Together: A Book about Community, written and illustrated by Elise Gravel

In Together: A Book about Community, Elise Gravel begins with statements about living in groups because it makes us feel safe and wanted. She show her colourful monsters helping those in need with medical attention, or sharing their food with those without, or lending a hand as needed. She even depicts one monster helping another who is being bullied for being different. The message is clear: Together we are better, safer, and happier.

From Together: A Book about Community, written and illustrated by Elise Gravel

Still, Elise Gravel is realistic in accepting that we don't always like other people, whether it is because they make us feel inadequate or unsafe. But, by rectifying injustice, sharing, and helping others, we build communities that are strong and safe and in which everyone feels respected.

From Together: A Book about Community, written and illustrated by Elise Gravel

Elise Gravel's little monsters again help young children understand a challenging concept like community. It's clear that her message is that we all belong and, with that belonging, comes strength and goodness. She doesn't make Together: A Book about Community a preachy book about getting along with others—although that message is clear—or how to make a community. Instead, Elise Gravel presents it as something to consider. In other words, if you help build community, these are the great things that happen for you and others. And because Elise Gravel's monsters are so adorable and completely unscary, as well as diverse in so many ways, the idea is demonstrated with delightful humour and unusual clarity. Togetherness has never been so much fun or so understandably constructive.

From Together: A Book about Community, written and illustrated by Elise Gravel

Our Ancestors' Kitchen

Written by Willie Poll

Illustrated by Shaikara David 

Annick Press

978-1-77321-962-2

36 pp.

Ages 4-7

April 2025 

 

Our ancestors teach us that there are memories in our meals.

There is magic in our cooking.

There is culture in our food.

 

So begins Willie Poll's story of a child learning at the stove of her grandma. With each dish comes a story and an invitation to witness how their ancestors lived and her own memories of her Grandpa and her community.

From Our Ancestors' Kitchen, written by Willie Poll, illustrated by Shaikara David

First they cook the minoomin (wild rice) and the girl begins to see a different scene within the kitchen. She can smell the water in which the wild rice grows, and she can hear the frogs, and see her ancestors on the water harvesting the rice. 

From Our Ancestors' Kitchen, written by Willie Poll, illustrated by Shaikara David

Next, Grandma is cooking meat, and the child sees the kitchen transformed with the colours of fall and animals stocking food for winter, and she remembers hunting with her Grandpa. That meat brings memories of finding mooz (moose) with their moose calls, and the tradition of giving thanks with prayer and asemaa (tobacco) after the mooz's "spirit danced into the sky." As important is the sharing of the meat with their Elders so that they might also care for their community. Their cooking together continues with maple syrup (zhiiwaagamizigan) and sunchokes (ashkibwaa) and blueberries, each bringing memories of time with her Grandpa and with the lives of their ancestors. And when the family and friends gather to eat, their ancestors join them.

From Our Ancestors' Kitchen, written by Willie Poll, illustrated by Shaikara David

Willie Poll, a Métis writer from Sault Ste. Marie and now of Prince Edward Island, reminds us of the importance of food to culture and to connecting us with those who came before us. Whether we learned to cook the foods from their hands or how to harvest the ingredients from age-old practices, those culinary experiences are almost bred in the bone. And when connected to our ancestors, the experiences are almost spiritual, as this child recognizes in the richness of the memories and the awareness of her heritage. With each ingredient and dish, she is transported to places she has been and to people she may have never met. But still the sensory experiences of those foods have become a part of her, to share with others now and forever.

 

Shaikara David, an Indigenous Mohawk from Akwesáhsne, uses her double-spread illustrations to bridge the contemporary with the past seamlessly. On a single spread, the child and her grandmother cook in a modern kitchen which transitions to an outdoor setting of trees and water and include Woodland-style artwork on blue backgrounds for animals and more. (See the rabbit, fox, squirrel and birds in the illustration below.) Shaikara David creates an organic connection between the present and the past almost effortlessly but still with some whimsy like the presence of the water rising beneath the kitchen table upon which a frog sits.

From Our Ancestors' Kitchen, written by Willie Poll, illustrated by Shaikara David

Many of us know that connection with our heritage and our ancestors through food but Willie Poll and Shaikara David help us to see the one that comes through an intergenerational relationship and into a culture with which most of us are unfamiliar. Moreover, in her author's note, Willie Poll wants readers to think about Indigenous Peoples and their connection with the land, as well as other cultures and their connection to food and the land. It's a relationship that is borne from acknowledgement and appreciation, enduring generations even as things change around us.

The Moon's Journey

Written by Beryl Young

Illustrated by Sean Huang

Red Deer Press

978-0-889957473

32 pp.

Ages 6-8

November 2024 

 

When Faith and her family are set to leave Wales and join her father in Canada, Faith is devastated with all she must leave behind, from their home and their cat Blackie to her best friend and even the caterpillars she was nurturing. And what about the moon?

 

I especially can't leave the moon.

 

From The Moon's Journey by Beryl Young, illustrated by Sean Huang

   

But her brother Gareth has a way to reassure her.

 

After boarding the ship, finding their berths, and exploring the ship, Faith looks for the towline tethering the moon to the ship's funnel. And though she cannot see it and worries that the rope has come loose, Gareth always reassures her, as he does day after day and night after night of their journey.

From The Moon's Journey by Beryl Young, illustrated by Sean Huang

When they finally arrive in Canada and are picked up by the children's father, Faith's concerns continue.

Would the captain remember to untie the rope so the moon could stay in Canada?

And though their dad does everything to ensure that their new home feels like home, including a new kitten, it's not until the moon reappears, seemingly bigger and closer than in Wales, that Faith that knows she's home.

 

While Faith's family's experience aboard the ship may be far more upscale than those of most immigrants, with gleaming silverware and white serviettes, Beryl Young still encompasses the tenuous nature of migration from the familiar to the unknown. By tethering Faith's disquiet about the move with the moon, a familiar and ever-present entity, even when it's not always visible, Beryl Young gives a common feature to which all immigrants can relate. The sun and moon are forever present, no matter where we are. It's a shared experience and one that we can all rely on, at least most of the time. And by reconnecting with the moon in her new country, Faith gets the reassurance she needs that things would be okay.

In addition to coping with migration, Beryl Young includes a sweet brother-sister relationship that helps Faith persevere and look for the familiar. How lovely for Gareth to create a scenario in which the moon is dragged along by the ship to their new country just to comfort the young girl.

From The Moon's Journey by Beryl Young, illustrated by Sean Huang

For historical fiction, Saskatchewan artist Sean Huang's illustrations are an excellent fit. Previously he illustrated I Am Not a Ghost: The Canadian Pacific Railway, another picture book of historical relevance, and his realistic art here in The Moon's Journey just as capably transports us to the 1950s and post WW2 immigration by ship.  Even though his artwork is digitally rendered, it leans towards the realism of classic oil paintings from the 19th c., focusing on landscapes of the sea and the ship along with portraits of the children at play or contemplation. For the historical events of post-war immigration, Sean Huang's art is befitting.

 

The Moon's Journey is a simple tale of how a natural connection between places can make all the difference in easing the hardship of something like immigration. In this case, it was most fortuitous that the moon was able to join Faith and her family on their journey and in their new country.

People Are My Favorite Places

 

Written and illustrated by Ani Castillo

Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

978-0-316424660

40 pp.

Ages 4-9

January 2024 

While we are still living with a pandemic, we are no longer subjected to lockdowns and the isolation that came with them. For many, the inability to go places had more to do with not seeing people: family, friends, and newly-met acquaintances. As she did in her earlier picture books Ping and Spark, Ani Castillo shares an important message about appreciating those who are part of our lives, whether we know them or not. 

From People Are My Favorite Places, written and illustrated by Ani Castillo

Although a young girl recognizes all the things which she can no longer do or see when "I was stuck in my room, all alone, forever and ever," she realizes that it's the people involved in those activities that she really misses. Visiting places like her grandparents' house or the movie theatre or travelling is not about the place but the people with whom she spends time.

From People Are My Favorite Places, written and illustrated by Ani Castillo

She recognizes that there are a lot of people she knows and missed, from her piano teacher to her friends and the locals she meets when travelling. It's all the "sweet, lovely people who were once there with me" with whom she laughed, ate noodles, chatted, held hands, and more. And she recognizes the people she missed came in all shapes, colours, ages, and textures, but she missed them all for their touch, their smell, their warmth and so much more.

From People Are My Favorite Places, written and illustrated by Ani Castillo

But most of all, she realizes that she had learned an important lesson during that time:

Because now

I see clearly

that the landscape, the place

most precious to me

is the world inside someone

I love

very dearly.

From People Are My Favorite Places, written and illustrated by Ani Castillo

The innocence of the child in expressing how she feels will be very familiar to children who missed out on a lot of things during lockdowns, from schooling, and family visits, to travel and socializing. They will all remember how isolated they felt and how much they craved being somewhere other than their rooms or their homes. But this child has the insight to realize it wasn't just being someplace, it was being with someone that made it all that it was: rich in experience, embracing in affection, uniting in companionship. That insightful innocence comes through in Ani Castillo's artwork. Using black coloured pencil, watercolour, and gouache, Ani Castillo makes us see every one of those people who are the landscape of this child's life.  There are her peers, her teachers, her family, and those people that she might meet when travelling. Known or unknown, these people are what make those places vibrant and significant.

Though I worry that too many people have forgotten what it was like to be without the people in their lives, I hope that People Are My Favorite Places will remind them so that we don't have to go through further isolation such as lockdowns to appreciate the magnitude of their contributions to the fabric of our lives. They take our landscapes from barren to lush and vibrant, and even if we don't want to partake in that vibrancy every moment, knowing that we can reach out to it any time is important.

Once, a Bird

Written by Rina Singh

Illustrated by Nathalie Dion

Orca Book Publishers

978-1-4598-3143-8

32 pp.

Ages 3-6

September 2023 

 

I know many people are trying to forget a time of lockdowns and restricted movements during the early years of the pandemic. But Rina Singh and Nathalie Dion's story reminds us of the gifts of nature and community that were revealed during those tenuous times. And though their story takes us out of those times, it never lets us forget what discoveries were made when tensions were high, isolation was the norm, and health was insecure.

From Once, a Bird, written by Rina Singh, illustrated by Nathalie Dion

Without words, Rina Singh tells a story of the arrival of a robin to a land of complexity and quiet. There may be snow on the ground but as the bird travels over parks, highways, and agricultural fields, there is no one to be seen. It is people-less and still. It could be a dystopian landscape, but Nathalie Dion gives us hope and light in the greenness of the fields, the blues of the skies and the unscathed infrastructure.

From Once, a Bird, written by Rina Singh, illustrated by Nathalie Dion

The bird finds its way to a budding tree outside a walk-up apartment building where an elderly woman spots it. She alone is looking out her windows as her neighbours keep their blinds and curtains closed. But then others take in the sight of the robin, each in their own way. Whether it be a grandson and grandfather watching it with binoculars, or a young person taking photos with her phone, or two children chatting between windows. Even a new puppy dog is held up to witness the bird.

 
As life goes on for the bird, building its nest, laying its eggs, and feeding its young, the neighbourhood begins to open up: a door, a window, a walk with the dog. And, with time, the neighbourhood returns to normal as the bird and its young fly off, having taken the people through the tough times.

From Once, a Bird, written by Rina Singh, illustrated by Nathalie Dion

Although the audience for Once, a Bird is listed as 3-5 years of age, the depth of the storytelling is far greater, and could be for all ages. Rina Singh has given a nuanced story of isolation and connection with nature that may have been born of a pandemic, and all who have been living with solitude and/or withdrawal, whether because of distance, mental health, or even personality, will also understand. She offers hope that separation does not mean desolation, and that opening oneself to the natural world can help sustain us.

I've reviewed a number of picture books illustrated by Montreal's Nathalie Dion (e.g., The Big Bad Wolf in My House, I Found Hope in a Cherry Tree, The Dog's Gardener) and her watercolour and gouache art lends itself well to contemplative stories such as Once, a Bird. There is an intangible, almost divine, sense of beauty that comes from both introspection and deep relationships depicted in her illustrations. Her art is sensitive to the ephemeral nature of challenges, keeping her colours subdued but calm, and introducing brighter colours, initially only on the robin, as the people emerge, and the neighbourhood returns to life.

 

For hope through difficult times, take note of how once a bird brought a community together, and how Rina Singh and Nathalie Dion were able to do the same to tell its and our story.

 

• • • • • • • 

A French-language edition is also available as Il était une fois un oiseau.

 

 

Naaahsa is an Artist!

Written and illustrated by Hali Heavy Shield

Second Story Press

978-1-77260-346-0

24 pp.

Ages 6-8

October 2023 

 

Hali Heavy Shield's story, the winner of the Second Story Press Indigenous Writing Contest, is a special one for the depth of the child-grandmother relationship, but it is given life, colour, and texture through the author-illustrator's artwork.

From Naaahsa is an Artist!, written and illustrated by Hali Heavy Shield

A child recalls spending time with her grandmother, whom she calls Naaahsa, an artist. Naaahsa doesn't just babysit her grandchild. She opens doors for creativity and connection to culture, always encouraging the child to try her best. They bead together, sing together, draw together, cook, and paint, and more. They take walks to inspire them, with Naaahsa telling stories in Blackfoot, especially meaningful for her as she had been prohibited from using her language when forced into residential school. Now Naaahsa makes art to help her feel better.

From Naaahsa is an Artist!, written and illustrated by Hali Heavy Shield

Her art is healing but it extends beyond herself, earning her accolades and a show at the National Gallery. She shares that experience with her grandchild, the two travelling by plane to Ottawa. The child hears the praise for Naaahsa, proud of her accomplishments and the recognition she deserves, but it's the little things like her hugs and her inspiration that mean all the world to this child.

Hali Heavy Shield is a member of the Blood Tribe of Southern Alberta and the daughter of an acclaimed sculptor and installation artist. Perhaps Hali Heavy Shield took seeds of her story from life with her mother or a grandmother or someone else but what parts of Naaahsa is an Artist! are true or imagined is irrelevant. (We never see the grandmother's artwork.) What is important is the connection the child has with her Naaahsa that inspires her to do her art, and perhaps fuels the author-illustrator in her own artwork.  Naaahsa was able to use her art to heal and live beyond the tragic circumstances of the residential school experiences, and find work and joy in her art, while imparting those important lessons onto her grandchild.

Art is a language everyone understands.

From Naaahsa is an Artist!, written and illustrated by Hali Heavy Shield

Hali Heavy Shield is a multidisciplinary artist who has used digital media here to evoke both the simplicity and the intricacy of this grandmother-grandchild relationship. Their togetherness may be set on a grassy lawn or against the important Chief Mountain, in a kitchen or in a hotel room, but those landscapes are austere to keep the emphasis on the two as they paint, or walk, cook, or travel. The economy of Hali Heavy Shield's art helps us see the patterns in the child's dresses, the love in their eyes, and the enormity of the world beyond them. They are in their own bubble of love and art. They are, in fact, both artists who create with the inspiration of the other and more.

 

There is more than a story here. There is storytelling. But it goes beyond words and is firmly planted in the artwork of Hali Heavy Shield. There is a new voice and artistry with Hali Heavy Shield's debut picture book and I look forward to seeing more of it,

• • • • • • •

 

The dual-language (Blackfoot and English) edition, translated by Norma Jean Russell and Faye Heavy Shield, is also available as Naaahsa Aisinaki! / Naaahsa is an Artist!

Malaika, Carnival Queen

Written by Nadia L. Hohn

Illustrated by Irene Luxbacher

Groundwood Books

978-1-77306-850-3

32 pp.

Ages 4-8

May 2023

 

Malaika, whom Nadia L. Hohn introduced us to in Malaika's Costume (and revisited with Malaika's Winter Carnival and Malaika's Surprise), is always joyous with colour and exuberance. But it's family that brings her the most happiness. In Malaika, Carnival Queen, family is no less important but there is an element of grief that is wrapped in that familial warmth.

From Malaika, Carnival Queen by Nadia L. Hohn, illus. by Irene Luxbacher

Malaika lives with her Mummy, her new father Papa Fred, her Grandma, her new sister Adèle and new baby brother. But she's dreaming of a man carrying a basket of fruit, handing her a mango. Malaika believes it a dream about her father and her mother confirms it. Grandma gives Malaika a photo of her daddy working on a fruit farm with a message "To Malaika, my likkle one." He'd come to Canada before them to work on a farm, but he'd become ill and passed away without them.

From Malaika, Carnival Queen by Nadia L. Hohn, illus. by Irene Luxbacher

They decide it's important for Malaika to learn more about her father, so they take a trip to the farm where he'd worked, meeting some men who'd worked with him. They speak of his love for his daughter and his dream to make a carnival like back home. Malaika is invited to be the Carnival Queen for their upcoming harvest festival to which she agrees.

Malaika is ready with her carnival peacock dress, but she has a plan to make the parade extra special and ensure that "home" is at the heart of the event.

 

Malaika, Carnival Queen is an involved story but at its heart it's about family and home. Malaika has a family, but she has lost her birth father and needed to know more about him. With him showing up in her dreams, it was time to learn more. Nadia L. Hohn gives us the Malaika whom we've grown to love through her earlier books but in Malaika, Carnival Queen we are introduced to another side of her, that which has experienced loss. With Malaika's father as a migrant worker, Nadia L. Hohn opens the discussion with children about families who are separated through immigration, particularly because of farm work. Though the story of migrant farm workers is one of hardships, that's not the story that Malaika, as the daughter of one, needed to hear. She needed to connect with her father through his coworkers and through a carnival, and Nadia L. Hohn does that for the little girl. 

From Malaika, Carnival Queen by Nadia L. Hohn, illus. by Irene Luxbacher

That connection of family and place comes through Malaika's creation of a carnival flag of home. It's a banner of colour and heart and memory, and all those are depicted in Irene Luxbacher's illustrations. The artwork, created in gouache, soft pastels and found papers, gives the story both a softness of purpose and a quilting of connection. Those media are perfect for a story of loss and finding connection but also making connection. Irene Luxbacher, who has illustrated all four of the Malaika books, gives the colour and the boldness of a child with high spirits, but she also gives us tenderness for the loss felt by Malaika and others as well as a collage-feel that comes from kinship.

As Malaika grows older, Nadia L. Hohn shows us more sides to the little girl and her family, but she always keeps her as one with sensitivity. She may be a carnival queen but she's also a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, and a friend, all which make her truly impressive and inclusive.

• • • • • • •

Malaika's Costume (2016)

Malaika's Winter Carnival (2017)

Malaika's Surprise (2021)

Malaika, Carnival Queen (2023)

The Song That Called Them Home

Written by David A. Robertson

Illustrated by Maya McKibbin

Tundra Books

978-0-7352-6670-4

52 pp.

Ages 4-8

April 2023

 

A day out with their Moshom becomes a supernatural experience when a child must enter the world of the Memekwesewak to rescue her little brother.

From The Song That Called Them Home by David A. Robertson, illus. by Maya McKibbin

During a trip to the land with their grandfather, Lauren and her little brother James head out in their canoe to fish while Moshom takes a nap. But after stirring up the waters to attract the fish, the waters become violent, and the kids are tossed into the lake.

From The Song That Called Them Home by David A. Robertson, illus. by Maya McKibbin

When Lauren resurfaces, she sees the Memekwesewak, or Little People, dragging her brother beyond a waterfall. Following, Lauren discovers a portal to their world where the Memekwesewak dance with James around a fire and sing a song to keep him with them. Things worsen when Lauren tries to release him from their supernatural bindings, and she too is ensnared. Only when a song from their own world penetrates and beckons them home do the kids return to their Moshom.

Come back! You've been gone so long!

What places have you found to roam!

Come back! Hear my welcome song!

My beating drum will guide you home!

Governor General's Literary Award-winning author David A. Robertson tells his best stories when he reaches into the stories of his family and people, as he has done here with his father's story of an encounter with the mischievous Memekwesewak. Perhaps that is why the story of The Song That Called Them Home seems so believable. It is rooted in the ordinary, in an outing with a grandfather who takes a nap as the children fish. What happens when they fall in the water, though, is perhaps the stuff of legends and the supernatural. But, as David A. Robertson's "Author's Note About the Memekwesewak" tells us, perhaps this part of the story is just as real. Regardless, this story reminds us that when we're lost, whether to the surreal or the dangerous, there is hope that those who love us will call us home and we will hear them. The threatening voices of the Memekwesewak, or contemporary dangers of risky behaviours and unsafe friendships, may seem unyielding but there are those who would guide us back to safety, as does Moshom with his song and drum.

From The Song That Called Them Home by David A. Robertson, illus. by Maya McKibbin

That ordinary and extraordinary is conveyed in the art of Maya McKibbin, an Ojibwe, Yoeme, and Irish-settler artist who illustrated the Governor General nominated Swift Fox All Along. Maya McKibbin's digital art transitions from the calm and comfort of family and the land and water to that of the turmoil of the Memekwesewak's world. They plunge us into the danger and the fears associated with the Little People through their use of line and shape as well as colour, emphasizing the wildness and the uncertainly that comes with the rush of the Memekwesewak, pasty creatures with purplish ink and long pale hair. Still, if you're worried about little ones being frightened, don't be. Maya McKibbin does not play up the fearful elements; instead, they emphasize the bonds of family and connection in Lauren and her brother, and the strains of a drum beat that can "Thum Thump" to draw them home.

 

While a story based in an Indigenous legend of the Little People, The Song That Called Them Home speaks to everyone. I can only hope that everyone will always have a song to call them home and the heart to hear it.

The Bird Feeder

Written by Andrew Larsen

Illustrated Dorothy Leung

Kids Can Press

978-1-5253-0483-5

40 pp.

Ages 3-7

October 2022

As I watch the birds seek food at our feeders–2 nyjer feeders, a hopper, a tray and two suet holders–I am reminded how much joy is derived from just watching the birds. It's sitting back and observing their feeding, their interactions with other birds, and making a connection with the natural world, often from the confines of our man-made one. But this connection can be far greater than at first glance as Andrew Larsen shows us in his latest picture book The Bird Feeder.

From The Bird Feeder by Andrew Larsen, illus. by Dorothy Leung

After their grandmother comes to live with them, a child spends special time with her: chatting about their secret wishes, drawing, and enjoying the birds at the bird feeder Grandma brought with her. But when Grandma is taken into hospice, the child is initially bereft, not wanting to fill the bird feeder as they'd done for her.

From The Bird Feeder by Andrew Larsen, illus. by Dorothy Leung

After seeing the big picture window in Grandma's hospice room, the child surprises their grandmother by hanging the bird feeder on the tree outside.

"Oh, my! says Grandma. "You brought the birds!"

Together they watch the birds, eat purple Jell-O, draw, and visit with Suki, the therapy dog. And the next spring, as three tiny beaks poke out of a nest, Grandma passes.

From The Bird Feeder by Andrew Larsen, illus. by Dorothy Leung

In a touching story of a special grandmother-grandchild connection and the cycle of life, Andrew Larsen shows us that even in great sadness there can be joy and comfort. With that extraordinary bond between the two generations comes learning, art, togetherness, and support. Both give and take from the other, filling their lives with affection and contentment. And though Grandma is in hospice, that connection is re-established via a bird feeder, which gives Grandma solace and the two of them a link of focus, purpose, and appreciation. I must admit that I shed a tear with Grandma's passing, so subtly handled with Andrew Larsen's text that evokes love and loss without the fear and despair that often accompany death. It's this simplicity of message and story that Dorothy Leung emulates in her digital artwork. There is a clarity in her illustrations that conveys tenderness and caring and family while giving readers just enough detail in a framed family photo or leaves on a tree or weariness on a face to scaffold a memorable story.

I know there are birds in the story, but The Bird Feeder is more than a grandmother and grandchild sharing a love of birds. There is an intimacy here that transcends all. It's a tender story of life and love and the blessings that come with both.

Fly

Written by Alison Hughes

Kids Can Press

978-1-5253-0583-2

200 pp.

Ages 10-14

October 2022

 

...my body is not all that I am. (pg. 40)

Fly is what 14-year-old Felix Landon Yarrow (a.k.a. Fly per his initials) dreams of doing. In his dreams, he is no longer trapped in a wheelchair by cerebral palsy. He is free to spread his arms and soar.

            My disability,

                         my difficulties,

                                               my pain–

often on public display–

are

in fact

all my own.

                                       Private. (pg. 59)

But, Felix is in a wheelchair. And though he feels very much like his pain is often on public display, whether he is working with his aide Levi or being driven in the "special" school bus, he knows that he is invisible to many, especially his peers. Still, that invisibility becomes his superpower, with Felix becoming a "Fly on the Wall" and ready to emulate his literary guide, Cervantes's Don Quixote, and follow truth and justice. His quest: to save his classmate and damsel in distress, Daria, from the arrogant and dangerous Carter.

As Felix watches and learns, he becomes Knightwatch and emails warnings to Daria about Carter and to Carter that his heinous and potentially criminal behaviour has been observed. But, like Don Quixote, along with battles with enemies come inner battles of understanding of self. 

Fly, a novel in free verse, may have a contemporary setting but its story is as classic as that of Don Quixote. It's about finding inner strength and fighting against injustices. But author Alison Hughes makes sure the reader realizes that much of this is also about perception. Told in Felix's voice, the reader will sympathize with his constrained physical nature and applaud his courage to pursue chivalrous goals of protecting first Daria and then others from oppressors. Going after Carter gives Felix purpose, though he doesn't realize until the end that his manner of attack may leave others vulnerable. His goal is outward, to help others, but the learning he takes from his endeavour is all about him and what he needs to do to be fair. The growth that Felix experiences, moving from annoyance at how others judge and treat him to appreciation for efforts others make, is a monumental one. And Alison Hughes takes the readers along on that epic journey through her elegant free verse. The writing flows and has shape that comes with self-discovery, engagement with others and context of circumstances. Felix's story takes a form not unlike his own body, both vulnerable and combative, and we're there for the moment of battle, within and externally, when Felix realizes that some of the limitations to the freedom to fly may be those he's imposed on himself.