The acclaimed children’s author Tom Percival grew up in a caravan in Shropshire with no electricity or heating. Drinking water came from a spring in the garden and on cold mornings, he says, ice sparkled on the bedposts. While his latest book, The Invisible (Simon & Schuster), isn’t a memoir, his own experiences of being poor are clearly etched throughout this tale about a child whose parents can’t pay the bills – from the beautifully observed frost patterns on the opening pages to the way the pictures glow when the family are together.
Relocated to a grey, depressing neighbourhood after her family have to give up their home, Isabel notices that people look through her. She starts to fade away. But upon encountering others left behind by society – whether old, homeless or refugees – she starts invigorating the community from within, and colour begins to seep back into the washed-out illustrations. In the endnote, Percival says of his own childhood: “there were two things that I had plenty of – love and books”, and while Isabel’s story is a valuable look at the heartbreakingly relevant issue of poverty today, its focus is also on love, family and society.
“We all belong here” is the final line in Percival’s endnote, but it could just as easily be a line in Derrick Barnes’s pitch-perfect poem about young black boys everywhere, I Am Every Good Thing (Egmont). A celebration of black youth, it is also an act of resistance against those who try to crush their dreams: “I am a nonstop ball of energy. Powerful and full of light. I am a go-getter. A difference-maker. A leader.”
Universal observations combine with lines about specific childhood joys (“I am good to the core, like the centre of a cinnamon roll”) while Gordon C James’s painted portraits brim with spirit and dignity. The result is a truly special book by an American author-illustrator duo at the top of their game, poignantly dedicated to Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin and other boys whose lives were taken from them.
In illustrator David Litchfield’s hands, sadness takes the form of a scribbly sort of bean with long limbs and a radiant heart in Anne Booth’s timely A Shelter for Sadness (Templar). Several recent releases have depicted tricky emotions as blobs, or creatures hiding in the shadows, but this one stands out. Profoundly moving and full of depth, it gently explores the need to accept sorrow, live alongside it, rather than chase a cure.
Eco-themed titles continue to be a big trend in children’s publishing, but those with a specific focus and strong narrative usually work best. Omar, the Bees and Me (Owlet, 2 March) by Helen Mortimer, with illustrations by Katie Cottle, is a treasure-trove of facts about bees. It’s also a heartwarming tale of two children with beekeeping grandparents and how this shared experience helps one of them, Omar, settle into a new school far from home. Cottle’s images are a pop of spring sunshine, and the inclusion of a recipe for the honey cake featured in the tale is a lovely touch.
Bugs of a different sort star in the hilarious Slug in Love (Simon & Schuster) by Rachel Bright with fabulous pictures by Nadia Shireen. All Doug wants is a hug, but despite his charming, toothy grin the other insects find him too “icky and mucky”. That is, until sassy Gail the Snail comes along with her red-hot lippy and winged glasses – surely they’re a perfect, slimy match?
The witty illustrations of Maria Karipidou will also raise a laugh in Laura Dockrill’s The Lipstick (Walker), about an unsupervised toddler doodling with hot-pink lipstick all over the house (“I took the lipstick for a little walk…”). It’s hard not to share the toddler’s thrill as the forbidden squiggles multiply. I just hope it doesn’t give any little locked-down readers naughty ideas. Surely parents have got enough on their plates.
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