There are too many sickly books about babies. This is not one of them. What the Anholts pull off here is sweet, tender and true. This troop of babies (what is the collective noun?) is illustrated with gusto. From the fashion parade for the under-ones, my favourite is the baby with gorgeous green leaves sprouting on his stout tummy. All the babies are busy doing what what babies like best: enjoying food, animals, the seaside. This clear, colourful, detailed compendium of babyhood will delight all its readers.
Photograph: Orchard
This book is strictly for the dinosaur-besotted. Others need not get anywhere near it. But Penny Dale has taken the ingenious decision to go the whole hog – or brontosaurus – here by combining outrageous dinosaurs with assorted heavy goods vehicles, sports cars, tractors and the like. For the prehistoric speed freak, this is a roaring delight in which dino drivers head full throttle towards a little dinosaur’s birthday party. What the book lacks in narrative, it makes up for in its fulsome catering to obsession.
Photograph: Nosy Crow
If this summer serves any suitable weather, this vivacious book will make a perfect picnicker’s companion. Pig turns out to be a bit of a liability when it comes to the preparation of the picnic but what he and Florentine eventually manage to produce is delicious and Jess Mikhail’s scrumptious illustrations do full justice to sprinkled sugar, pumpkin seeds and lashings of icing. Best of all, there are half a dozen mouth-watering recipes at the end. So...sleeves up, aprons on…
Photograph: Bloomsbury
Michael Rosen can be depended upon for his oddball magic. When he takes the conventional step of giving a bear a lead role, you know that what follows will be no ordinary toy story. These toys have been to finishing school and trained to be loveable. But when Bob goes to his family, he cannot attract anyone’s attention. He explodes – a disturbing denouement that will make children roar with laughter. Tony Ross’s quaintly ebullient style complements a tale determined to go out with a bang and no whimpering.
Photograph: Andersen Press
Matteo Pericoli walked 40 miles along the Thames on both sides. He took more than 6,000 pictures and drew 3,262 waves, 1,343 buildings, 27,180 windows, 41 bridges and 58 cranes. He says: ‘I know this because I was crazy enough to count them.’ The result is a splendid, beautifully produced and meticulous book published in two halves (north and south) – two walks down the river, with a jubilant and intriguing commentary that will engage all (London’s children apparently used sometimes to drink beer for breakfast. ‘Small beer’ contained little alcohol). A swig is recommended - a must read, especially for Londoners insufficiently curious about their great city.
Photograph: Macmillan
This is a sparkling, exquisite gold-bound poppet of a book – measuring 5 by 4 inches, a reproduction of one of 200 minature books created for the library of Queen Mary’s Dolls House at Windsor Castle in 1922. Written in a firm, black, old-fashioned hand, it is about a fairy who falls from grace and into Eaton square. The fairy gets arrested and then adopted by a policeman. It performs and paints and gives concert recitals - but attracts mixed reviews. Fougasse suggests we append a moral. The arts can be bad for your health?
Photograph: Walker
Garland’s uncommonly sympathetic eye has tended, until now, to focus on slightly shambolic middle-class English families. But this tremendous book – her best ever – is about a refugee child who comes to England. Her drawings of Azzi’s whitewashed home and its palm trees in a war-torn land and of the spartan English hostel in which her family fetches up are assured and well informed. We witness Azzi’s alienation at primary school. We feel for her demoralised father who is not allowed to work in this country. And we rejoice as family life improves. Moving, involving and without a whiff of condescension – a little masterpiece.
Photograph: Frances Lincoln
Emily Gravett, who has soared into the limelight as one of the most distinctive young illustrators around, knows that cats, unlike dogs, are not craven. They will not do anything unless it suits them. Gravett gets to the heart of this infuriating and entertaining feline truth, as Matilda’s cat proves a haughty, dismayed and fugitive playmate. Matilda is hopefully dressed in a marmalade catsuit throughout – but the cat is not won over. And her choice of bed-time reading is especially tactless: ‘Dogs’ – by Emily Gravett. A top choice for catty families.
Photograph: Macmillan
Photograph: Andersen Press
This is a story about the relationship between a beige grandfather bear (a grandfather) and a red bear (a grandson). It is written with the understanding that old age and extreme youth can – and do `- go together. ‘At times he behaves like an old man. At times he behaves like a child.’ What appeals here is the sense of a sweet reversal. Allowances have to be made for the old as for the very young. The expressive drawings are winning. Grandpa’s huffy look when asked to share his grandson’s food is especially enjoyable. A lovely tale.
Photograph: Macmillan
Patrick Benson’s illustration has authority. His bright, arresting figures draw you in. This book is beautifully simple – about shadow play. Adult readers will remember as children trying to give their shadows the slip. Here, we follow a little boy chasing his shadow across an emerald lawn in autumn. He is afraid of it, dances with it, is crestfallen whenever it deserts him. A Jack Russell stares thoughtfully at the shadow too, wondering, perhaps, how to make it come to heel.
Photograph: Brubacker, Ford and Friends
This is a curiosity: it introduces the work of late twentieth century Russian poet: Daniil Kharms. We see a photo of him as a boy in a sailor suit looking at us with an unnaturally adult stare. He was ‘hugely unusual’, beloved by children, jailed for his writing. The charming poems are breezily Russian. We are introduced to a samovar (a poem from 1928) and the varied cast who help themselves to tea. The last customer for the samovar is a boy, a lazy latecomer boy who is left only with hot air. With this captivating book, we do better.
Photograph: Matteo Publishing
Photograph: Harper Collins
This angular scoundrel of a pirate, first encountered balanced on a raft in foaming waves, spells trouble ahoy! And in Lucas’s hands we must nerve ourselves for a watery rollercoaster of a ride and for the pirate’s favourite and oft-repeated shout: ‘I’ll never be beaten!’ He isn’t beaten but he is eaten: he fetches up, like Jonah, in the belly of a whale. I loved Lucas’s map to the whale’s grand interior and enjoyed encountering his comely companion – also swallowed by the whale – a proto-therapist mermaid explaining the benefits of the talking cure.
Photograph: Walker
It is a welcome surprise when a picture book takes on a subject scarcely ever touched upon – because, in this case, it is as uncosy as subjects come. It is about the feelings of a child whose father has gone to prison for a petty crime. Its target audience might seem to be confined to children experiencing this trauma but it will fascinate other, luckier children too. Karin Littlewood paints with gentle, convincing skill. Every detail is believable except, perhaps, the uncomplicatedly happy ending.
Photograph: Frances Lincoln
