Before You Came

Writing by Anne Renaud

Illustrated by Nahid Kazemi

Peanut Butter Press

978-1-927735-90-9

28 pp.

Ages 5+

March 2026 

 

From Anne Renaud, author of Mr. Crum's Potato Predicament (2017), Fania's Heart (2018), and The True Tale of a Giantess: The Story of Anne Swan (2018), comes less of a story and more of a lullaby in Before You Came. In words that are warm and sweet, the narrator speaks to a child, recalling the emotions of anticipating the arrival.

By day my heart sang out to you,

close to bursting.

My love did not know where to go. (pg. 11)

From Before You Came, written by Anne Renaud, illustrated by Nahid Kazemi

In gentle but powerful words, Anne Renaud's narrator speaks to a child yet to arrive, perhaps by birth or by adoption, about what they are feeling and imagining. It's all about a bond that is growing, and dreams and love that will be realized. 

The day you came, I gave you

all the pieces of me—

from the very first moment. (pg. 21) 

From Before You Came, written by Anne Renaud, illustrated by Nahid Kazemi

The love that this parent feels for this child, before they are even more than a whisper, is remarkable. It is deep and complex, encompassing the promise of what is and what is to be. Anne Renaud's text is so poignant than the reader, whether adult or child, will appreciate the sentiment. I can only wish that every child could feel the adoration that this child will know.

From Before You Came, written by Anne Renaud, illustrated by Nahid Kazemi

Because Anne Renaud's free verse is so intense, it would have been a challenge to find an illustrator who could match the spirit of that devotion. Nahid Kazemi, who illustrated Joanne Schwartz's picture book The Old Woman (2020) as well as many other wonderful picture books, echoes that sentiment with her PanPastel and pigment art. Her illustrations are delicate and ethereal, matching the love that is felt so intensely. There is a surreal nature to Nahid Kazemi's art, whether it be lungs with a bird in a nest resting there, or arms embracing a house. What her art tells us is the breadth and personal nature of this love. 

Though the words speak to a child, Before You Came would make a lovely gift for a new parent or parent-to-be so that they might read it to their own child. So, keep this elegant book in mind for anyone who will be touched by the tenderness of a parent's love for a child. That love may be difficult to express in words and art, but Anne Renaud and Nahid Kazemi express it with aplomb.

 

• • • • • • • 

 

The French-language edition, Avant que tu ne sois là, was published in 2023 by Les Éditions Héritage.

Sometimes I Feel That Way Too

Written by Hannah Beach

Illustrated by Rebecca Bender

Plumleaf Press 

978-1-069093561

36 pp.

Ages 4–8

January 2026 

 

Giving voice to your feelings is not always easy and it is especially challenging for children who don't always have the words to do so. Hannah Beach, an emotional health and play-based learning consultant, gives both an appropriate and playful means by which children might express those feelings, especially with Rebecca Bender's lively artwork to give them context.

From Sometimes I Feel That Way Too, written by Hannah Beach, illustrated by Rebecca Bender

A child awakens and sees their teddy bear snuggled up against the dog, and declares that, "Sometimes I feel that way too." In a series of double-page spreads, this child goes through their day, sensing how a balloon might be excited, or how a lone tree leaf in autumn might feel sad, or how all the boots lined up at school feel like they belong. In each case, he expresses the circumstances in which he might feel the same way. At school, at home, or on a walk in the rain, at play, at learning, or eating, this little boy feels a lot and can always find something that mirrors his feelings. Sometimes they're joyous and exuberant emotions like the popping of popcorn, but sometimes they're less so like when they feel lonely, angry or disappointed. In each case, the child sees something in their everyday life that reflects that feeling.

From Sometimes I Feel That Way Too, written by Hannah Beach, illustrated by Rebecca Bender

The words Hannah Beach uses, via her little character, are words that young children will understand, as are the feelings. Whether it's a snail tucked up in their shell, or a lonesome orange that doesn't get picked for a snack, or a stacking block game that topples, it's all seen from this child's point of view. Illustrator Rebecca Bender does the same, emphasizing what the child sees and feels. Her artwork, created with a soft blend of gouache, watercolour, pencil, collage, and digital media, emphasizes the child who appears throughout the day, inside a school or home and outside, displaying a full range of emotions. We see that range in his face, in his eyes, in his body language, and in his smile. Rebecca Bender makes us see all the feelings he's feeling. Just as she has consistently done in all her books—including her award-winning Giraffe and Bird series (see Giraffe and Bird Together Again [2018]) and How Do You Feel? (2016)—Rebecca Bender gives us a lightness to a big message. 

From Sometimes I Feel That Way Too, written by Hannah Beach, illustrated by Rebecca Bender

If you're a teacher or a parent who wants to help a child express their emotions in their own terms, Sometimes I Feel That Way Too would provide a perfect starting point. Children could find their own examples of what looks sad or lonely, angry or disappointing from within their own activities and experiences. Feelings are very personal, so it only makes sense to connect them to a child's own daily life. And, when they communicate those feelings in their own way—this child likes to draw the items that mirror his emotions—those who care for them will be better equipped to help.

From Sometimes I Feel That Way Too, written by Hannah Beach, illustrated by Rebecca Bender

How to Be Brave Like a Snail

Written by Naseem Hrab

Illustrated by Kelly Collier

Owlkids Books

978-1-77147-672-0

40 pp.

Ages 4–7

October 2025 

 

Naseem Hrab's Snail has taught young readers a lot, but mostly he has taught them to appreciate the ways of the vulnerable and how to fit in with his self-confident friends. And now the little gastropod is looking to face his fears and be courageous.

From How to Be Brave Like a Snail, written by Naseem Hrab, illustrated by Kelly Collier

Snail recognizes that there are some things that demonstrate his bravery. He's not afraid of all loud noises or of taking a tour of his backyard or of lullaby karaoke. What he does have a hard time with is asking for help, making mistakes, and believing in himself. When his friends begin planning to participate in a paper airplane contest, he can't bear the thought of losing. Knowing how deeply Snail feels, his friend Stump offers to help him with making the creases and with practising. 

From How to Be Brave Like a Snail, written by Naseem Hrab, illustrated by Kelly Collier

Both Snail and Stump participate in the contest, and, though it isn't clear who won, Snail is given a ribbon for the neatest creases. He's delighted. But Stump, who gets no recognition, is overwhelmed with prickly feelings. With Snail's help and a clever paper plane idea, Stump is able to accept his feelings and dealing with them in a constructive way.

 

I've always liked the ways of Snail and Stump. They are unassuming and thoughtful. They are neither loud nor self-absorbed, insolent nor self-important. They are true friends to each other and accepting of others, even if they don't want to be like them. They are good. But being true to yourself sometimes means acknowledging your vulnerabilities and finding your own ways to cope. Both Snail and Stump have feelings that threaten to stop them from doing or feeling. So they could overcome those emotions or accept them. Through their friendship and concern for each other, they are able to accept and overcome them.

From How to Be Brave Like a Snail, written by Naseem Hrab, illustrated by Kelly Collier

This is a sensitive issue for many children, especially those who are on the quiet side and more apt to feel vulnerable compared to their stronger and more boisterous peers. They tend to be overlooked and even discount themselves. I like that Naseem Hrab, author of a wonderful collection of picture books like Ira Crumb Feel the Feelings (2018), Weekend Dad (2020), and Otis & Peanut (2023), has more than acknowledged these children. She has given them a voice to share those vulnerabilities and even a novel coping strategy to help disperse them. (The "Classroom Discussion and Activity Guide" at Owlkids Books offers more help to do so with young readers.) 

 

As with the earlier two Snail and Stump books, the illustrations were created by Kelly Collier, the author-illustrator of books like A Horse Named Steve (2017) and The Imposter (2023). All Kelly Collier's characters, from Snail and Stump to Bear, Rabbit, and Rabbit, are easily recognizable though she adds playfulness to their looks. Whether it's Snail's eyebrows, that help him show emotions, or the way Stump covers his eyes with his twig arms when he cries, Kelly Collier has made them and their emotions recognizable and natural.

 

Feelings are very big things. Whether it's fear or anger, disappointment or sadness, they can overwhelm. Dealing with those big feelings when you're little can seem impossible. But, with a quick read of How to Be Brave Like a Snail (and maybe How to Party Like a Snail [2022] and How to Staycation Like a Snail [2024]), and undertaking a creative paper plane activity, those challenging feelings can be kept in check so they don't overwhelm or sabotage the good ones.

 

 • • • • • • •

 

How to Party Like a Snail (2022)

How to Staycation Like a Snail (2024)

How to Be Brave Like a Snail (2025)

 

 • • • • • • • 

Call Me Gray

Written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen

Illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

Kids Can Press

978-1-5253-1135-2

32 pp.

Ages 4-8

October 2025 

 

For a four-letter word, "gray" packs a lot of meaning. It can mean the colour that is between black and white, the two sides that allow no middle ground. It can mean the dullness of a cloudy day with the absence of sun pulling a pall over everything. It can also reflect a feeling of detachment or depression, far more profound than the blues of sadness. But, for the child in Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen's story, it's a name that holds colour and brightness, sunshine and joy.

From Call Me Gray, written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen, illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

It's the beginning of winter, and an unnamed child is looking forward to some wonderful traditions that they and their father partake in, starting with the building of their ice rink. But this year, this child knows something has changed.

But this year feels different.

 

It's not the snow

and it's not the cold.

 

It's me. 

 (pg. 6)

 

From Call Me Gray, written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen, illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

As they build their ice rink, the child hesitantly tries to gain some clarity to their feelings. A  recent incident, in which their best friend doesn't invite them to her sleepover because it's only for girls, has them saddened and perplexed. Talking to their dad, the child asks some very big questions including, "Do you ever feel mixed up about who you are?" (pg.12) Their dad tries to answer this and other questions but it's obvious that he's not grasping exactly what his child is asking. Still, as their work progresses, there is one statement that makes their dad stop and think and appreciate what his child is saying. 

"I look like a boy but

sometimes I feel more

like a girl."  

   (pg. 15)

And with that meaningful communication,  a subtle but monumental change begins to take place in the midst of enduring winter traditions.

From Call Me Gray, written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen, illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

I have reviewed so many Andrew Larsen books, both picture books and middle-grade fiction, including Goodnight, Hockey Fans (2017),  Dingus (2017), and Me, Toma and the Concrete Jungle (2019), and each one seems deeply personal. Call Me Gray has that same overtone, perhaps because Andrew Larsen has written it with his son, and the two have spoken of Bells Larsen's own experiences as a transgender person. I don't know if Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen built ice rinks together and enjoyed hot chocolate afterwards, but the relationship between father and child in Call Me Gray is a touching one without being saccharine. In fact, it's quite real. They speak, they interact, and they question as they try to understand themselves and the other. And it's obviously a safe space in which to question and to make choices. 

From Call Me Gray, written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen, illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

This is the first children's picture book that Edmonton's Tallulah Fontaine has illustrated,  though her work has been featured on advertising displays and in numerous publications including the New Yorker, the New York Times, and The Economist. Rendered in gouache and finished digitally, her illustrations focus on that which is important: the relationship between the child and their father, as well as others. Tallulah Fontaine shows them pounding stakes, shovelling snow, and chatting while they work. She shows them putting on their skates and skating and always interacting, either in silence or in important conversations. Their work, together to build rink or to build understanding, is the goal. And Tallulah Fontaine always conveys much in the faces of her characters, whether it be disappointment, confusion, contentment, or hope.

Call Me Gray may become a wonderful story starter for challenging conversations about gender identities or about encouraging self-expression or about building an ice rink. It might help children share their feelings, or help their parents establish safe spaces to discuss big issues. But Call Me Gray may also take "gray" out of the unfavourable realm and move it into one of inclusivity and association and positive change.

Nightmare Jones: Poems

Written by Shannon Bramer

Illustrated by Cindy Derby

Groundwood Books

978-1-77306-946-3

56 pp.

Ages 9–12

October 2025

 

It's the time of year when the frightening and the strange are everywhere, whether in movies and stories, or in costumes and activities. Nightmare Jones will fit in beautifully with this collection of 28 poems which are steeped in darkness and will introduce unease and even reflection.

 

The titular poem, "Nightmare Jones," is about a scary swashbuckler who also dances. Other poems with chilling characters include "Chatterbox" about a collector of teeth, "Ghost in the Mirror," and "If She Was a Monster." And there are spiders and more spiders and insects and worms and more. 

Iridescent Flies and Beetles
of Dung and Doom
are Fools for Blood, come sing
inside me. Sing! Sing! Sing!
Di-dum-di 

(p. 47, from "The Strangest One")

From Nightmare Jones: Poems, written by Shannon Bramer, illustrated by Cindy Derby

Poet Shannon Bramer also writes of the scary things called feelings, whether it be about being lonely as in "Badlonely," that tenuous relationship with home ("The Scariest Word I Know"), or grief  as in "Sorrow." Shannon Bramer may present her poems to shake us up with the images she creates with her eloquent and powerful words, but she also makes us feel things that we might not want to feel. Still, her poems are elegant and sophisticated, and deep in their darkness and weightiness.

From Nightmare Jones: Poems, written by Shannon Bramer, illustrated by Cindy Derby

Several of Shannon Bramer's poems are prose poetry, and these are personal reflections about the moon ("Moon Song"), roses ("Loading Roses"), and a friend ("Button Rose"). Even in these she makes us feel for her insights and incidents.

From Nightmare Jones: Poems, written by Shannon Bramer, illustrated by Cindy Derby

San Francisco's Cindy Derby adds the right touch of ominousness, and she accomplishes this with a blend of powdered graphite, watercolour, gouache, colour burst powder, and pastels. With those mediums, the splattering and bleeding of colours just makes everything a little more unsettled.

 

Maybe you'll want to read these poems for Halloween, or maybe anytime you want a little chill, but Shannon Bramer deserves to have Nightmare Jones read throughout the year. Her words remind me of a deep pool that can be a little scary because of what might lurk beneath the surface, but there's a calm beauty that can be found within as well. I encourage you to take a dip.

Ghost Circus

Written by Adrienne Kress

Illustrated by Jade Zhang

Union Square Kids

978-1-4549-4829-2

256 pp.

Ages 9–13

August 2025 

 

When Casey, a living boy, finds himself in the stands of a ghost circus, he is confused, as is Creepy Girl, a ghost with hollow eyes, who finds him. He'd already had a weird day where the school bus driver didn't see him and his classmate Emily presented their project without him. Now he's at the circus, which is filled with ghost performers, and Creepy Girl, with a little friend called Polterghost, is trying to help him, though not understanding herself why a boy who is not dead can interact with the ghost world.

From Ghost Circus, written by Adrienne Kress, illustrated by Jade Zhang

Being the only ghosts who can leave the circus, Creepy Girl and Polterghost follow Casey as he heads home. There he finds his distraught parents and a clue that leads him to the hospital where Casey lays in a coma. But he cannot re-enter his body, though he tries. When Casey realizes the Headless Horseman is following him, he and his new friends return to the Ghost Circus  where the Horseman cannot enter. 

 

At the Ghost Circus, Creepy Girl introduces Casey to several performers, hoping they might help them. First, there is Madame Avenire, the fortune teller, who had always told Creepy Girl that she had a mission to help a lost child. 

In my living days I told people their future. Now I tell them their pasts. 

The living and the dead are the same in that way...never existing in the present. (p. 79)

From Ghost Circus, written by Adrienne Kress, illustrated by Jade Zhang

It's only when they speak with the Elephant, who reveals how he joined the circus and how it has evolved over time, that Casey and Creepy Girl realize what has been happening, who the Headless Horseman seeks, and what they must do.

While Ghost Circus is in essence a ghost story, it has greater depth to it. Both Creepy Girl and Casey are on the hunt for answers. Creepy Girl doesn't know who she was and why she cannot cross over while Casey wants to know if he is going to die because he can't re-enter his body. Both are immersed in fear for what has happened and what will happen. That fear pervades their attitudes in different ways. At the onset, Casey is rude, annoyed that Creepy Girl doesn't understand what he's feeling and that she doesn't have all the answers he needs. Creepy Girl, on the other hand, seems to be nonchalant about his situation, not understanding what's happening and why she's involved when she's not a part of his story. But with time, Creepy Girl begins to understand her mission and Casey sees that others have their own stories and fears. By seeing beyond themselves and helping others, the two with Polterghost, who always has a benevolence to others, gain in understanding and start to make things right. 

From Ghost Circus, written by Adrienne Kress, illustrated by Jade Zhang

It's been too long since I've reviewed an Adrienne Kress story, and I'm so pleased to review Ghost Circus, her debut graphic novel. (Her bibliography to date includes young adult novels like The Friday Society and Outcast, and middle grade series like The Explorer Society, Ticket to Ride and Bendy.) She does have a wonderful penchant for the fantastical and I'm seeing a little more creepiness in her stories, but it's not creepy. It's the kind that titillates and entertains and will engage young readers completely. While not a horror story, Ghost Circus has the supernatural elements that might evoke unease, especially when dealing with the ghosts—Creepy Girl has hollow eyes, there's a guy with a giant hole in his torso as if from a cannon ball, and the Headless Horseman is definitely one to fear—but never scares. Rather, Adrienne Kress and Ghost Circus make us think. They make us think about the Between, that space between living and crossing over; about those who take all our energy for themselves; and how by helping others we can do much to help ourselves.  

From Ghost Circus, written by Adrienne Kress, illustrated by Jade Zhang

Jade Zhang, a Toronto visual artist, keeps the chill of Adrienne Kress's story but she makes it playful and fresh with her choice of colours and softness of line and shape. Creepy Girl has creepy elements to her, as do most of the ghosts, especially when depicted in their blueness, but Creepy Girl generally looks like a naive girl with big eyes. And Polterghost is adorable. He's small and friendly and helpful. (See him try to give an apple to the Headless Horseman's horse in the illustration above.) Jade Zhang keeps the yucky for those characters that are truly vile. 

 

Though Adrienne Kress resolves Casey's story, and relatively happily, it looks like there will be a sequel to Ghost Circus. Casey tells Creepy Girl that "We'll figure out what's going on" (p. 247) and I foresee another "lively" story (pun intended) starring our new favourite trio of characters, perhaps to discover Creepy Girl's origin story. (I'll just be happy to call her something other than Creepy Girl.)

I Lost a Day

Written and illustrated by Briana Corr Scott

Nimbus Publishing

978-1-77471-363-1

32 pp.

Ages 4-8

April 2025 

 

For many of us, losing a day is a negative event. It means that we lost 24 hours in which we could have accomplished something or been more present for others or ourselves or enjoyed life. It could be losing it to strong feelings or procrastination, to futility, defeat or discombobulation. But Briana Corr Scott shows children that the loss of a day can bring positives of calm, greater clarity, effectiveness, and more.

From I Lost a Day, written and illustrated by Briana Corr Scott

In rhyming verse, Briana Corr Scott gets into the heads and hearts of children as they are overcome with anger or rage or sadness.

When my head holds a storm

That blocks out the light

 

When my hands are hard fists

That are ready to fight...

When those times come, each finds a way to cope, whether it be hiding under their sheets, listening to the rain, reading, sketching, playing music, running, or just being outdoors. Everyone is different but they choose strategies that work for them to help be distracted from the anger or the sadness or to help it dissipate. 

I smell the cool earth

As the wind moves the leaves

 

A piece of my sadness

Floats away on the breeze. 

From I Lost a Day, written and illustrated by Briana Corr Scott

The strategy that touched me the most was the untangling of a ball of yarn as it is a metaphor for the undoing of a lost day. After all, a lost day is but one day among many.

Yarn that is tangled

Can always be wound...

 

In the days that I lost

It was me that I found.

The title of I Lost a Day caught me off-guard with the discouraging tone I thought it set for the book. It is but a title. That title and the first illustrations of the book are just a preamble to explain what children can do to deal with big feelings of anger and depression, irritability and anxiety. It sets up the story to be one of enlightenment, in other words one of learning to see differently and to feel the lightness that comes of self-care. Briana Corr Scott, whose book While You Were Sleeping I reviewed in 2023, has a delicacy to her storytelling and her artwork. Her author's note details a personal connection to the story of I Lost a Day–in addition to suggestions for other activities to help cope with those lost days–and I believe that this connection is what has helped her be sensitive and comprehensive in the strategies she recommends to children to try.

From I Lost a Day, written and illustrated by Briana Corr Scott

That awareness of the enormity of those feelings and that potential ways in which they may be addressed and successfully waived come through in Briana Corr Scott's illustrations. She uses gouache and watercolour to create artwork that portrays those overwhelming feelings that can cause a loss of days, days of raging storms and devastating anguish. These images are powerful in their darkness and their influence to dominate. But then Briana Corr Scott shows children finding the stillness in rain and reading and the quiet in running and drawing, and recovering themselves. 

The sadness can't catch me

I'll pass it right by

 

My body feels lighter

When I sit and sigh.

This is not a how-to book to defeat depression or anger. It is however a story that appreciates how time may be lost to feelings that overwhelm and offers possibilities for coping with no judgment and no obligation to conform or control. Briana Corr Scott, instead, shows kindness and understanding with the hope that we might find ways to care for our mental health that work for us.

Mad at Dad

Written and illustrated by Janie Hao

Kids Can Press

978-1-5253-1026-3

32 pp.

Ages 2-6

October 2024 

What gets this child riled up? It's her dad who is just being a dad, trying to get her to eat her vegetables so he can tidy up the dishes. But when she gets this big feeling, she has an arsenal of strategies to get her out of it.

From Mad at Dad, written and illustrated by Janie Hao

She tries a host of activities to get her out it her anger. She talks it out with her stuffies, she counts, she draws, and she does cartwheels. She tries quiet activities that might not be so, and energy-burning ones that might help her let go of her annoyance at her father. She might not like being mad but it's an emotion that's hard to let go of. 

From Mad at Dad, written and illustrated by Janie Hao

With time, that anger transforms into sadness, probably from the exhaustion of those big feelings, and her dad, the original source of her ire, is there to help her through.

From Mad at Dad, written and illustrated by Janie Hao

Like the emotions the child is feeling, bigger than just being displeased, Mad at Dad is larger than its 9" x 9" format. Mad at Dad is an interactive picture book that allows the reader to fold-out pages that allow for immense four-page spreads that are equal to the size of her emotions. Not only will young readers get the full force of her wrath, depicted with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw–when she's not releasing outraged squiggles from her expressive mouth–they'll see the bigness of those feelings in the slams and the shouts and the cries. Janie Hao, a Sheridan College grad of illustration, gives the full range of anger in her character's fury, using colours of red and yellow, black and orange. It's not until the child is wearing herself out and crashing under a comforter in the dark that the tones become primarily blue. Fortunately, her dad also brings the light and colour with him. 

From Mad at Dad, written and illustrated by Janie Hao

Janie Hao's digitally-rendered artwork relays the full scope of this rollercoaster of a father-daughter relationship but also the changes that happen as the child attempts to calm herself with strategies readers' own parents and teachers might have taught them. It'll be refreshing for young children to see that not everything works and that they just need to try something different. And even if nothing works, time will heal and remind them that the big deal that started the anger does not have to remain a big deal and being mad at dad doesn't have to be a permanent state. In fact, it might be the very thing that reminds them of the love that exists between a parent and child regardless of tough moments.

Sometimes I Feel Like an Oak

Written by Danielle Daniel

Illustrated by Jackie Traverse

Groundwood Books

978-1-77306-698-1

32 pp.

Ages 3+

April 2024

On Earth Day, I often like to review a book that speaks to me of the natural world and particularly our relationship with the environment. Too often, it's about our negative impact on the earth which, unfortunately, has had to take the brunt of poor choices with regards to overdevelopment, pollution, and burning of fossil fuels, just to name a few. With those choices have come deforestation and loss of habitat and species diversity, and global warming. We know all that, so today let's celebrate trees and what they mean to us by luxuriating in their diversity and their power. 

From Sometimes I Feel Like an Oak, written by Danielle Daniel, illustrated by Jackie Traverse

Danielle Daniel, author of Sometimes I Feel Like a Fox (2015) and Sometimes I Feel Like a River (2023), reminds us that we are not dissimilar to the living things outside of ourselves. Trees, like us, have life, reproduce, grow and heal, survive and support. They have their own personalities–should that be phytoalities?–that reflect everything from generosity to sensitivity, daring and resilience. With each tree highlighted, Danielle Daniel offers a poem about what a child feels and how it is expressed by each type of tree.

From Sometimes I Feel Like an Oak, written by Danielle Daniel, illustrated by Jackie Traverse

The first child feels like a maple, full and generous with the sap it shares. Still in winter, another child compares themselves to a birch with its peeling bark that brings hope. As we head into spring and then summer, there are cherry trees, cedars, aspens, spruce, and willows. Coming through all the seasons Danielle Daniel ends with the redwood, the ash, tamarack, oak, and pine. 

Sometimes I feel like a pine,

calm, still and gentle.

My branches cradle fresh-fallen snow,

filling me with peace.

From Sometimes I Feel Like an Oak, written by Danielle Daniel, illustrated by Jackie Traverse

Sometimes I Feel Like an Oak may be a contemplative picture book about making connections between trees and feelings, told through verse, but it feels like literary forest bathing. (Check out some online videos for examples of this practice.) Danielle Daniel reminds us that trees are living and show us the best ways we can live, by being courageous and peaceful, optimistic and strong. She speaks of her Algonquin ancestors who appreciated trees as "sentient beings with spirits who can feel things." For those who are empathetic to the feelings of non-human entities, Sometimes I Feel Like an Oak validates our connection with other living things, and perhaps even some non-living things, and Danielle Daniel shows us why we might be making those connections. (Personally, I have always felt a kinship with cedars and Danielle Daniel's poem helps me see why, especially as a child reads beneath the tree's limbs.)

 

Jackie Traverse, who is Ojibway from Lake St. Martin First Nation, uses her acrylic and gouache art to project the Indigenous backgrounds of both author and artist. There are dots that are reminiscent of beadwork, and swirls of lines hinting at a Woodland basis, but Jackie Traverse's illustrations are not wholly of any one style. Her art reflects her heritage, and that of Danielle Daniel, but it is also completely her own, blending realism with that heritage. Each tree is distinct in foliage and stature, bark and morphology, but Jackie Traverse gives us more with her children, the landscapes, and the spirit in the art.

From Sometimes I Feel Like an Oak, written by Danielle Daniel, illustrated by Jackie Traverse

On this Earth Day, let's celebrate our connections with the natural world, and particularly trees, with Danielle Daniel and Jackie Traverse's Sometimes I Feel Like an Oak. You'll feel better for having done so. 

I Am a Rock

Written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard

Illustrated by Pelin Turgut

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-475-2 

28 pages 

Ages 3-5

April 2024

Never has a rock been less of an insentient thing than in Ashley Qilavaq-Savard's I Am a Rock. For this child and his mother, this pet rock feels, sees, hears, and experiences all the seasons and life of an Arctic landscape, with or without its child by its side.

 

As a boy prepares for bed, a time open to great inquisition, Pauloosie asks his mother, "Anaana, what would it be like if rocks were alive?" as his adorable pet rock, Miki Rock, rests alongside him. With a playful voice and great wisdom, his mother answers him.

From I Am a Rock, written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard, illustrated by Pelin Turgut

First, his mother tells of the rock watching as animals feed and make homes with the changing seasons. There are foxes and ptarmigan, belugas, and char. But there is more than just watching. There is also listening.

From chirps to howls to

beating hooves and squeaks,

I can hear them all.

From I Am a Rock, written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard, illustrated by Pelin Turgut

And feeling? Miki Rock feels everything from the snow that blankets it to "the joy of the sun's warm kiss."

From I Am a Rock, written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard, illustrated by Pelin Turgut

Finally, Miki Rock acknowledges that, though it can see, hear, and feel, it could not fly, run or walk until Pauloosie picked it up.

 

As I write this review, I hear Simon & Garfunkel's 1965 song with the same title but know their message is completely opposite to that of Ashley Qilavaq-Savard's book. While they sang of closing oneself off for protection, Ashley Qilavaq-Savard gives us a story of companionship and feeling that speaks to consciousness and awareness. Miki Rock is as sentient as we are. It may not be able to grow or to move (or can it?) but its appreciation for what goes on around it is evident. It senses warmth and cold and feels excitement and joy. It may be Pauloosie's Anaana who is giving that life to Miki Rock but, as a reader of I Am a Rock, I am convinced, as I'm sure Pauloosie is, that life exists within that rock.

 

If Ashley Qilavaq-Savard's words don't convince you, pair them with Turkish illustrator Pelin Turgut's artwork. Between Miki Rock's expressive face, which is limited to two specks for eyes and a crack for a smile, as well as orange lichen cheeks and a tuft of "hair" and landscapes of snowy mountains, frozen lakes, northern lights, and bright Arctic flora, Pelin Turgut gives us a rock that embraces its "life."

 

From I Am a Rock, written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard, illustrated by Pelin Turgut

We may know logically that rocks don't feel anything but isn't fiction supposed to help us imagine different worlds and reach beyond the rational into something else? With the special companionship Pauloosie gets from Miki Rock, he already knows that a rock can be more than a fixed object. (A reading of I Am a Rock would be a fabulous lesson to teach the characteristics of living things.) Courtesy of his Anaana, Pauloosie now knows even more about his pet.