From the category archives:

Picture Books

Book of the Week: Silence

September 30, 2013

Silence by Lemniscates

Images and text by Carter.

This book, Silence, was created by artists from the Barcelona-based illustration studio Lemniscates and published by the American Psychological Association. This struck me as such an unusual pairing, but then the story took over, and it just struck me as stunning. The words are gentle, lyrical, and full of wonder. We absorb the role of a black-haired and rosy-cheeked girl, mindful of the sounds that play in the silence. She represents a kid’s point of view, but I saw myself in her just the same. I can hear my heart when running and my breath when still. I’m curious about what the stars say at night and what the birds sing in the morning.

Silence by Lemniscates

Silence is profound in its stillness, but bold in its style, and that combination is so striking. I’ve grown so accustomed to living in a loud, bright, and bustling city. Sometimes I wander with a screen-lit face, turned away from noticing my true surroundings. Do you take time for quiet? Do you slow down to hear it? When I read Silence, I found myself in an elaborate daydream of wishing I were someplace else. But then I thought – Carter, you sure are missing the point of this story! So I stopped. I slowed down. I hoped for a more active practice of listening. And now I’m going to carry the charge from the final spread around in my pocket: Be still. Listen. How many things can you hear?

Silence by Lemniscates

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The Mighty Lalouche by Matthew Olshan and Sophie Blackall

Images and text by Carter.

Maybe Gabrielle can chime in and tell me how to say, “Holy cow, this is the most exquisite and weirdly charming story I have ever seen in my entire picture-book-loving life” in French. The best I can do? C’est beau. It’s The Mighty Lalouche, by Matthew Olshan and Sophie Blackall.

Lalouche is a scrawny monsieur with a curly mustache and a finch named Genevieve. He leads a simple life as a postman, and lives in a simple apartment with a view of a brick wall. And then a fleet of electric cars wrecks Lalouche’s love, so he answers an ad for the Bastille Boxing Club. A postman? A boxer? Turns out Lalouche is nimble, fast, and strong — and more than anything, he loves that finch named Genevieve. It’s a story about having passion and talent, and the spectacular magic that occurs when you find each.

The Mighty Lalouche by Matthew Olshan and Sophie Blackall

And the art — oh, the art. Each boxer, poster, and decorative frame is a separate piece, created with Chinese ink and watercolor. And then! Each was meticulously cut out, layered into place, and photographed. The result is a breathtaking blend of shadow and light, like watching a stop-motion piece that has been paused in the loveliest of poses. Every page. Each new spread. If you’re a Caldecott-watcher, I’d place some bets on this one in the ring.

The Mighty Lalouche by Matthew Olshan and Sophie Blackall

P.S. – We love Sophie Blackall! She illustrated Aldous Huxley’s The Crows of Pearblossom, and Koseli shared her Missed Connections series here. Her work is so enchanting.

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Book of the Week: The Umbrella

September 16, 2013

The Umbrella by Ingrid and Dieter Schubert

Images and text by Carter, The Blue Umbrella poster by Pixar.

Some of my favorite reads this year have been wordless picture books. There’s something so enchanting about reading a story with no words and solely reading its visual narrative. It’s how kids read before they can decode the words, right? Perhaps that’s why settling in with a wordless book is so comfortable. It’s a cross between a homecoming and a thrill.

The Umbrella walks that same tightrope of danger and wonder. A scrappy black dog finds a red umbrella at the start of a wild and windy storm, and gets whisked away across the world. An elephant rescues him from hovering alligators at attention. A swarming school of fish shoots him a curious eye. He swings from vines on that umbrella just like the monkeys – and thank goodness there’s a watchful pelican nearby to swoosh him smack out of the way of impending doom!

The Umbrella by Ingrid and Dieter Schubert

It’s a lovely story. A treat for the eyes, heart, and soul, truly. I’m reminded of another umbrella story with just as much joy and just as few words – Pixar’s short film, “The Blue Umbrella.” If you saw Monsters University in the theater this summer, you’ve seen it! I can’t wait until the release of the entire short, cause this teaser is breathtaking. Blue umbrella, meet red umbrella. You are joyfully different in a slick, wet, gray world. A minute from a short that is nothing short of spectacular is right here. Enjoy!

The Blue Umbrella

P.S. – The Umbrella is a few years old, but some of my favorites from this year are wordless! We talked about Bluebird here, but Flora and the Flamingo, The Boy and the Airplane, and Journey are all worth a billion looks.

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Red Knit Cap Girl by Naoko Stoop

Images and text by Carter.

In the forest, wrapped up in time, Red Knit Cap Girl wonders about the moon. She climbs on the highest branch that teeters, but it’s still too far. She tries its reflection on the water, but realizes that’s not the same one beaming down from the sky. With the guidance of Owl and some loyal friends, she prepares to talk to the Moon. What seems like a celebratory idea turns out to be hiding what they are seeking. After all, the Moon is always there.

The unbridled curiosity of Red Knit Cap Girl reminded me of a truth in my world. Wondering walks closely with waiting. Waiting for something — to grow, to arrive, for news, or for change — is excruciating. Right? Maybe that something is a someone and maybe the waiting is tinged with wild anticipation. Or maybe heartache. Waiting feels like wondering without an answer. But maybe what we’re waiting for is there all along, like Red Knit Cap Girl’s Moon. That found magic is an extraordinary reminder of that to me.

Red Knit Cap Girl by Naoko Stoop

Naoko Stoop’s inspiration for this story came after participating in Earth Hour, and the natural nightscape that was revealed once the lights were off. Maybe finding things when we aren’t necessarily looking is an accidental side effect of waiting. What do you think?

P.S. – Do you remember The Crows of Pearblossom? In both of these stories, our fearless protagonists seek the counsel of an Owl. How comforting, the links between stories and the sage, unwavering owl! I recently grabbed this owl print from the shop of a favorite illustrator, and he hangs over my workspace as a reminder of wondering and waiting and finding solace.

Red Knit Cap Girl by Naoko Stoop

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Harlem's Little Blackbird by Renee Watson and Christian Robinson

Images and text by Carter.

Have you heard of Florence Mills? I hadn’t, until the pages of this book introduced me to her. Harlem’s Little Blackbird, by Renée Watson and Christian Robinson, is a song with a sweet refrain. Florence lived in a teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy house in Washington, D.C., at the turn of the twentieth century. When it stormed, she sang the spirituals from her family’s slavery roots to calm the thunder and herself. That unwavering voice chased the storms away, and Florence fell in love with the music.

During the heartache of the civil rights movement, Florence sang for what was right. She sang for all people. The Harlem Renaissance provided the perfect place for her creative spirit to mesmerize crowds. And though Florence encountered anger and hate, she gave and danced and sang until the very end. Renée Watson’s prose is as lyrical as the blackbird’s tune, and Christian Robinson’s paper cut pictures give Florence’s story texture and depth. This book is a true joy.

Harlem's Little Blackbird by Renee Watson and Christian Robinson

P.S. — Christian Robinson is also an animator, and I think you will love his short film, What is Music? This is absolutely worth a watch, and a nice accompaniment to the musicality of Harlem’s Little Blackbird. And if you’re still smitten, this is a lovely interview with Christian about his process. I spy an adorable elephant!

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Little Tug by Stephen Savage

Images and text by Carter.

I read a lot of books. And when they are thirty-two pages, you can get through a bunch in one sitting. Old books, new books, sad books, funny books, some that sparkle, and some that are duds. Don’t you? I think it’s important to be a reader who can say ‘eh’ to something that doesn’t quite tickle your fancy. These little books are art after all, and your Van Gogh may be another person’s spilled scribble.

But this one. This one! Little Tug is an underdog story of the nautical type — but it’s a starry night and an enchanting iris to me. This teensy tug may look like scrappiest thing in the sea, but he’s got a huge job. He doesn’t have a lot of bells and whistles, but all of the boats need him. He’s small, but he’s important. Those little readers on your laps might see themselves in that little guy. You might see their sleepy-headed nights in him, too! The ending is a sweet surprise, and the whole story is wrapped up in stunning art and gorgeous tones of a day slipping away.

Little Tug by Stephen Savage

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Book of the Week: Black Dog

August 19, 2013

Black Dog by Levi Pinfold

Images and text by Carter.

Don’t you have that one big Thing that you can only see out of the corner of your eye? A fear that is equal parts thrilling and terrifying? Mine varies depending on the day — from the dentist, to meeting someone new, to the suspense of a good old ghost story. That’s the heart of this story, Black Dog, by Levi Pinfold. One by one, members of the Hope family wake up to a big black dog looming right outside. It’s as big as a tiger, an elephant, and even something called a Big Jeffy. (So says young Maurice Hope.)

But then there’s the fearless and feisty Small Hope, who marches right out to that big black dog. She’s teensier than his eyeball, but still calls him a guffin. Her family warns that she’ll be munched and crunched, but she’s not scared — that’s Small Hope.

The pictures are breathtaking, blurring the line between what’s fantastic and what’s true. And the details! Don’t miss those tiny nuggets of story only told in the pictures. While the Hopes gather by the fire with mugs of something hot, there’s an octopus having tea with a rat in a different corner of the room. Kids’ scribbled drawings of Daddy’s pajama-clad feet and that scary Big Jeffy are scattered in the kitchen, just out of the splash zone when dropped toast falls into the kitty’s milk bowl. But along with her yellow slicker and green wellies, Small Hope’s story is the one I will remember the next time I feel intimidated, unsure, or just plain small.

Black Dog by Levi Pinfold

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The Story of Babar by Jean de Brunhoff

Images and text by Carter.

I think I’ve mentioned it once or twice or a million times, but we are in love with elephants around here. I probably haven’t told you about the stuffed elephant that sits in my closet, who once upon a time played ‘You Are My Sunshine‘ and now has a floppy neck, ears rubbed ragged, and decades of dust. And then there’s this elephant I love – Babar, the Elephant King. Jean de Brunhoff wrote a handful of stories about him, starting with this one, The Story of Babar.

French picture books from the early 1930s are wilder, perhaps even riskier, than some of our tamer fare today. The kid in me remembers Babar’s fancy trip to the city, recklessly riding the elevator, and his dashing green suit and derby hat. I had forgotten about the terribly brutal loss of his mother – which occurs close to the first page! But Babar the orphan was far from ordinary. And Babar the extraordinary gives hope to tough beginnings. What this story does with such grace and confidence is a gift to a young reader. It challenges them to look at sadness and trusts that they are courageous enough to celebrate the happily ever after. I love Babar for that just as much as I love his shoes with spats.

P.S. – On a lighter note, I think Celeste’s wedding gown should go down in fashion history with Kate Middleton’s! It is long and lovely and fit for a Queen!

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The Crows of Pearblossom

Images and text by Carter.

The legacy of story is something I ponder over quite a bit. It’s a reminder of connectedness to our roots and one another. And that’s why there’s something extra special about this one, The Crows of Pearblossom, by Aldous Huxley. Yes, Brave New World’s Aldous Huxley! It’s his only book for children, and he wrote it in 1944 for his niece, Olivia, as a Christmas gift.

This edition was illustrated by Sophie Blackall 67 years later, and her pictures offer sweeping panoramas of this trickster tale. The Crow family finds a sneaky snake has been gulping up all of Mrs. Crow’s eggs. She is devastated, and rightfully so, right? The debonair Mr. Crow enlists the help of Old Man Owl to outsmart that wily, wriggly beast. This combination of old, timeless story with modern details is just delightful. And speaking of delightful, Mrs. Crow shops for polenta and wears dainty pearls. Owl sports bunny slippers, and Mr. Crow’s pockets are lined with ballpoint pens. It’s almost too, too much!

P.S. – I remember one Saturday morning, arriving at the library before the doors opened. When the librarians unlocked them to let the milling crowd in, my dad nudged me and whispered, “Hurry up, before they get all the good books!” It’s one of my earliest (and most favorite!) memories as a reader. Do you have any stories like that to share?

The Crows of Pearblossom

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Book of the Week: Happy

July 22, 2013

Happy by Mies Van Hout

Images and text by Carter.

You’d think I’d know better by now, but it still puzzles me when a picture book so spare evokes such a strong reaction in me! Happy, by Mies Van Hout is evocative and simple and spectacular all at once. Each spread reveals an emotion – furious, proud, content – and a fish that illustrates it. The shocked fish is spiky and his one eyeball wide open. The sure fish points his snout towards the upper corner, like he’s ready to swim off the page.

Both the pictures and the text have a scribbled feel – it’s childlike and charming. The bold, graphic quality yields some surprisingly hilarious results. Perhaps I’m especially drawn to it because these emotions reach farther than standard concept book fare? I’m still not entirely sure what it is, but I am definitely dazzled by these pages!

Happy by Mies Van Hout Happy by Mies Van Hout

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On a Beam of Light: A Story of Albert Einstein

Images and text by Carter.

Sometimes real life makes the best stories. On a Beam of Light: A Story of Albert Einstein by Jennifer Berne and Vladimir Radunsky is a celebration of curiosity, imagination, and an insatiable desire to learn. This is a kid with a twinkle in his eye and the verve to figure things out. Things the rest of us ignore, like just how do lumps of sugar disappear into hot tea?

We learn that three-year-old Little Albert hasn’t said much, just looked around with wide eyes of wonder. His parents have changed as the years march on, but they are always standing by him. In one illustration, tiny speech bubbles with hand drawn type hover over their heads. The dad says, “So different,” and the mother says, “But so dear.” This moment in the pictures arrested me as I flipped the pages. That love is so dear.

Speaking of the pictures – wow. The illustrations are lively and restrained and so meaningful. The loose lines around characters still contain period style and timeless emotion. I love how he showed the spread of Albert proving that everything is made up of atoms – of course, individual specks of color, making up a whole. And a couple of barefoot, toe-curled feet are an unexpected, adorable detail.

Do you love picture book biographies as much as I do? Remember this one about William Carlos Williams? And this one about Noah Webster is perfect for anyone like me who is word-obsessed.

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The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton

Images and text by Carter.

The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton is one of those sigh-worthy books, right? It’s a classic that might be wedged into that little-house-shaped hole in your heart, too, just like it is in mine. (And Gabrielle’s — it’s a favorite at the Blair house!) I remember reading it as a little girl, and it seemed so fancy and old-fashioned at the time. And now, many years later, my view of fancy and old-fashioned has transformed into an awe of its timelessness.

This Little House is just a tiny thing, painted pink, and sheltering love. She sits on a hill in the countryside watching the seasons rise and set with the sun, watching the kids wander and wonder, and wondering herself what city life is like. Slowly but surely, the Little House watches surveyors with steam shovels and buildings rise to the sky, blocking her view of the stars. She hasn’t moved an inch, but the Little House is wholly homesick. But her legacy is of love, and when she’s plucked from the city and replanted in the countryside, I become a bit of a blubbering mess.

Her story reminds me of the things that make home warm despite the passage of time. It makes me think of the white paint chipping away at the columns of my grandparents’ porch, and how spinning around them made me forget about the biting mosquitoes out there. How about you?

The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton

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Lester's Dreadful Sweaters by K.G. Campbell

Images and text by Carter.

I am not the most fashionable of gals. My librarian roots show up in constant cardigans, glasses and flats. And when I’m inspired by this southern California vibe, my breezy and effortless just looks sloppy and lazy. But when I was looking for a dreadful sweater on which to photograph this book, I couldn’t find one! I’m going to consider that a fashion win.

Except — these sweaters are actually and truly atrocious. One of Lester’s chuckle-worthy knits has holes where it shouldn’t and none where it should. And despite feeling woe for poor Lester, I felt a little better about my closet. The inciting event of K.G. Campbell’s Lester’s Dreadful Sweaters is delightfully absurd and wonderful and terrifying: a crocodile chomped Cousin Clara’s house. So, naturally, Cousin Clara moves in with Lester’s family and clickety-click-knits him piles of hideous sweaters. Lester wrestles with his knitting nemesis with deadpan wit and charm. His world makes perfect nonsensical sense, and that’s why this story is such an un-dreadful one to devour.

P.S. – K.G. Campbell is one to watch if you are into kids’ book illustrations! Lester’s Dreadful Sweaters is his debut, but look for him soon on Kate DiCamillo’s upcoming Flora and Ulysses: The Illuminated Adventures and Ame Dyckman’s Tea Party Rules. And another side note while we are speaking of fashion, I love this peek into Gabrielle’s suitcase!

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Wee Gillis by Munro Leaf and Robert Lawson

Images and text by Carter.

You know The Story of Ferdinand, right? That gentle, genteel bull just steals my heart with each read. This book, Wee Gillis, was published two years after The Story of Ferdinand by the same author/illustrator duo. That year was 1938, 75 years ago!

One thing I love about picture books is how triumphant characters squeeze their way into our collective history, and Wee Gillis is a charmer. He’s an orphan, but from quite a legacy. A detail that tickles me every time I read it is his full name: Alastair Roderic Craigallachie Dalhousie Gowan Donnybristle Mac Mac — welcome to Scotland, right?

And that’s where his story takes place — both in the Lowlands as a farmer with his mother’s family, and in the Highlands as a hunter with his father’s. But when Wee Gillis has to decide where to call home forever, he whips up a frenzy of creative fortitude and a whole new world opens up. I don’t want to spoil it too much, but let’s just say: bagpipes. It’s brilliant, sweet, inspiring, and timeless.

Wee Gillis by Munro Leaf and Robert Lawson

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Book of the Week: If You Want to See a Whale

Images and text by Carter.

That wondrous time when spring slips into summer ripples through If You Want to See a Whale. Julie Fogliano and Caldecott-winning Erin Stead are a stunning duo. Do you remember And Then It’s Spring? This one is just as magical.

Because if you want to see a whale, you’ll need an ocean, a cozy chair, and some time for waiting and watching and wishing. And you have to be careful to not notice the little green things inching nibble scoot among the leaves.

ifyouwanttoseeawhale_2 ifyouwanttoseeawhale_3

You’ll love this one. The art is sublime and the words are a whisper. It’s a little early for me to pick Caldecott favorites, but this is one to watch. And while you’re waiting, you might even see a whale if you wish hard enough!

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Fortunately by Remy Charlip

Images and text by Carter.

It might not surprise you that I like to pepper my classic favorites with some all out kook and quirk. And this book by Remy Charlip, Fortunately, makes hilarity squeak out of my toenails. It’s that much fun. Remy Charlip was a tap dancer, and something about those syncopated beats must have been pulsing in his brain when he wrote this book. Its punchy crescendoes and dramatic page turns are a riot!

And is there anything more darling than a hapless little main character whose name is Ned?! When Fortunately was published in 1964, Ned was nowhere near the most popular of baby names, so I love that his identity is already a bit offbeat. The story opens just like this: Fortunately, one day, Ned got a letter that said “Please Come to a Surprise Party.” The spread is bright and colorful and full of promise. But turn the page, and it reads, But unfortunately the party was in Florida and he was in New York. And all of that vibrancy? Faded to black and white.

Ned’s story carries on in a frenzy of escalating chaos and the most satisfying of arcs. And where Ned ends up just might surprise you!

Fortunately by Remy Charlip

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Bluebird by Bob Staake

Images and text by Carter.

There’s something extraordinarily engaging about a book with no words. And there’s just something plain old extraordinary about this particular one. Bluebird, by Bob Staake, is a story that will sweep you into a fierce friendship and shatter your heart into pieces when that friendship is tested. But before you turn the last page, that bursting heart of yours will get all patched up. It’s understated and overwhelming all at once.

Because there are no words, the story unfolds visually. The panels are jam packed with joy and surprise and simultaneously weave a gentle call for empathy. One boy, quiet and alone. One bird, insistent on friendship. It’s a tough story, but its truthful – and so, so beautiful.

P.S. – Tell me, do you have any favorite wordless picture books? Gabrielle and I are both big fans of this one by Jerry Pinkney, and I adore anything and everything by Barbara Lehman!

Bluebird by Bob Staake

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Swimmy by Leo Lionni

Images and text by Carter.

One of my favorite things is the flimsy, shiny, black and white yearbook from my last year of teaching. There’s a terrible candid photo of me reading to a bunch of kids in the library, and although my outfit could use a good dose of forgetfulness, I’ll always remember the book. Swimmy, by Leo Lionni, is celebrating its fiftieth birthday, and it is still looking mighty fine.

Leo Lionni’s art is something worth floating around in for a while – the textures and the muted colors of the ocean’s murk are so lovely. And then there’s Swimmy, a tenacious little thing whose ingenuity outsmarts the big bad fish, an enemy of schools everywhere. He’s a reminder to stop and smell the sea anemones and to try the impossible.

Is there an unforgettable character that sticks with you? I love that a bitty black fish, wise beyond his years, hasn’t ever wandered too far from me. 

Swimmy by Leo Lionni

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Board Books for Hipster Babies  |  Design Mom

By Carter.

I love board books. Literacy for the littlest. Sturdy pages for stubby fingers. Visually spectacular to developing brains. I adore them so much that I have a growing collection, despite having zero kids in my house. But I obsess over my portable art, and these books are stunners. For this particular roundup, Gabrielle and I gathered some of the very coolest-looking board books out there — selections with a design or art angle. Think of them as board books for hipster babies. : ) I hope you’ll find some new treasures in this list for your tiny reader — or the perfect baby gift for your graphic-designer-best-friend.

1) Since board books are designed to be tactile (also chewed up and drooled on, dropped and kicked and loved hard), one inspired by a textiles designer makes perfect sense. Alexander Girard’s simple sophistication and playful patterns are a perfect match for this bright board book, Color. I love that the hues are not your usual primary colors – cyans and fuchsias, pale pinks and muted golds leap off the page, too.

2) A Book of Sleep by Il Sung Na. The story here is just as soothing as the pictures. Both are lush and sweeping, but quiet — which sets the perfect tone for a nighttime (or nap time!) read. An alert owl details how other animals sleep – some are noisy, and some sleep standing up! They all snooze at night, but when the day rises, it’s the owl’s turn.

3) Picture This… by Alison Jay pairs singular words with paintings inspired by the American primitive style. But if you spend a little more time in the illustrations, it becomes much more than a simple language primer. Images featured on one page become hidden details on others, and their recurring cameos make this an extra engaging read. Also, note the subtle shift of the seasons as the book progresses. Really smart stuff packed into a really short read! Find more of Alison Jay’s beautiful board books here.

4) Another tip of the hat to the large world of tints and hues is Orla Kiely’s Colors. The concept of color is a popular one in these formative books, (and rightly so!) but this one especially dazzles. Perhaps it’s the fashion designer sensibilities at work, but the tones are especially striking. And it’s cloth bound, so it’s lovely to the touch.

Keep reading for 7 more!

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 Images and text by Carter.

When I moved across the country almost seven years ago, my younger sister travelled with me. And when I arrived on the west coast after a long week of driving, it was late and dark. I didn’t know my roommate, my neighborhood, or why one of the only possessions I stuffed into the back of my little car was a broken green lamp with a crumpled shade.

Morning shed some light on my unfamiliar street, and on my unfamiliar house, and my sister said simply, “Looks like Strega Nona’s.” This book was woven into our history. With one quiet observation, all of the unsettled grumbles that echo around a new place hushed, and it became a little more like home. This is why stories matter. 

Strega Nona, by Tomie dePaola, is timeless. It’s the story of a grandma with a magic touch and hungry Big Anthony, who doesn’t. This is a book with an overeager heart and an overflowing pasta pot. I love my cautionary tales with a side of spaghetti, don’t you? And ever astute, Strega Nona rests comfortably once she takes care of that pasta problem — in her house, the one etched in my heart. 

Do you have a book like this, one that stirs shared souls? Something wonderfully haunting and deeply comforting?

Strega Nona by Tomie DePaola

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