Nakamura a University of Michigan scholar and author begins her treatise with a striking image: a group of Kenyan women who are paid “two dollars an hour to train and clean ChatGPT by reading and labeling snippets of violent racist and sexist remarks.” These women “feed” developing AI models the consistent stream of data needed to help the models learn and grow. According to Nakamura the invisibility of these workers exemplifies the vital but unrecognized labor that women of color have long invested into the modern internet. She writes “[T]he technological horizon that marks the beginning of technologies that feel like a new epoch of machine intelligence is enabled and marked by the labor of women of color—labor that is strategically erased in some moments and hypervisible in others.” To support her thesis Nakamura profiles Navajo women in Shiprock New Mexico who created “chips for calculators transistor radios and other early media devices [that] was understood as creative cultural labor and thus not labor….This enables its marginalization from capital—it doesn’t pay to do this work though it should.” Nakamura also profiles Tila Tequila a queer Vietnamese refugee who Nakamura calls “the first influencer.” Despite Tequila’s accomplishments she was never credited as being a social media pioneer; instead she was met with condescension and cruelty. Using examples like these the author convincingly argues that the internet (in particular social media) would not exist without the underpaid or unpaid invisible labor of women of color. The book’s prose can be dry but its thesis is fascinating. As Nakamura writes “If you are holding a digital device in your hands it was almost certainly touched by a woman of color before you most likely the Southeast Asian woman or women who built it.”

More than a year has passed since Aurelia Lyndham assumed ownership of her Aunt Marigold’s bookshop On the Square Books and discovered the shop’s remarkable secret: Every night characters from the store’s Recommended Reads table step out of the pages of the books and socialize with one another. This unique situation provided the inspiration for Aurelia’s debut novel which was about Count Vronsky’s life after Anna Karenina; she now begins outlining a novel about art forgery. Aurelia is deeply in love with Oliver a book editor (“Their teasing and bickering over edits to her book had morphed into something real and playful”) and she asks him to move in with her though she wonders how she can keep the secrets of the bookshop under wraps. When she puts the novels of Charles Dickens on the Recommended Reads table she’s particularly touched to meet Harriet from Little Dorrit. Saddened by Harriet’s solitude Aurelia resolves to put her planned novel on hold and write a happy ending for Harriet’s story. Despite her best efforts Aurelia struggles to write the story frustrating Harriet. Can Aurelia find the right conclusion for the character or will Harriet write the ending that’s best for her? In this second installment of Andersen’s Midnights on the Square series Aurelia’s nascent career as an author is the central focus with her attempts to write a satisfying ending for Harriet echoing her own struggle to pen a second novel. The supporting characters have a chance to shine especially Aurelia’s boyfriend Oliver. As Aurelia’s relationship with Oliver deepens she meets his family including his younger brother Jack; although the brothers live close to each other their relationship is strained a dynamic that Andersen fruitfully explores throughout the novel. But the heart of the project continues to be Aurelia’s love of classic literature and the characters who make the stories come to life.

A lifelong resident of Palm Beach County Florida Ryles experienced discrimination firsthand growing up in the segregated city. Telling his story with autobiographical vignettes that jump across multiple timelines the author emphasizes both the pervasiveness of racism and the resilience and determination of the city’s Black residents. He notes for instance that when the integrated Atlanta Braves Major League Baseball team trained in South Florida the Black players were not allowed to stay in segregated hotels. This situation prompted Palm Beach’s Black community including Ryles’ parents to offer lodgings to all-stars like Dusty Baker who wrote the book’s foreword. The author discusses the influence of his grandparents’ neighbor Edward Rodgers who served a pivotal role in advocating for civil rights reforms before becoming the county’s first Black judge. The author would follow in Rodgers’ footsteps as a lawyer whose legal work overlapped with his activism. (Ryles would serve on the West Palm Beach City Commission and as president of the city’s Housing Authority.) The author combines his fascinating and deeply personal history of the Black experience in Palm Beach with a broader commentary on how slavery and the legacy of Jim Crow continue to reverberate into the present. “Jim Crow never fully went away” he writes adding that he believes that the era of segregation and legalized discrimination has “metastasized into more heinous and covert methods of racial subjugation.” He connects his son’s 2019 interaction with police—who arrived on the scene of a car accident with guns drawn rather than focusing on rendering aid to the stranded motorist—to other episodes of police hostility toward young Black males such as the 2016 killing of Philando Castile. The book’s narrative is often interrupted by “Did You Know” segments that include trivia about Black history where Ryles shares his insights on topics that span from the Trump administration’s anti-diversity campaigns to the white savior trope often found in movies about slavery.

The kingdoms of Masor and Pavoline have long been allies and both are surrounded by the Infinite Wood a mystical place that’s populated by fairies. The alliance is jeopardized however when Masor’s king and queen are found murdered in the forest. The fairies are initially suspected but the true killer is Prince Guiomar of Pavoline who blames a Masorian for his mother’s death. Stoman a fairy warrior delivers this news to two servants Esta and Byrdon bound to the Masor and Pavoline royal families respectively. They pass the message along to their employers but the King of Pavoline and the Princess of Masor have their own theories of the crime. Byrdon is bound to Guiomar’s personal service so he and Esta decide to raise their child in a cave in the Infinite Wood. Stoman and his partner Alizren must also raise their child in secret because when a fairy child’s color doesn’t match their parents’ the Council of Elders takes the youngster away. Defying norms the human Leanna and the fairy Kennedy grow up together. There are early signs that Leanna may possess unusual magical abilities and a grand destiny—one in which she may wield the powerful Jewel of Nebulous—and Kennedy is born purple the color of fairy royalty. Flyte’s well-paced story is full of creative worldbuilding concepts and intriguing characters and it features some thoughtfully timed twists and turns along the way. The author has crafted much of the dialogue in an old-fashioned style which some readers are likely to find distracting at times (“This is naught but a dream and I do naught to keep you hither wake up if you in truth despise me so” says Leanna at one point). However the narrative as a whole—in which Leanna and Kennedy grow and explore their world and work to encourage peace and understanding among their respective peoples and kingdoms—is exciting and skillfully delivered and it’s sure to keep aficionados of the genre invested.

Sixteen-year-old Julia Anderson is unhappy about moving across the country from Toronto to Campbell River a small town on Vancouver Island dubbed “the Salmon Capital of the World.” Following an ugly divorce that was hard on both mother and daughter Jules’ lawyer mother got a new job as executive director of the environmental organization Eco-Guardians. Her father has married a much younger woman whose dislike for Jules is clear. In Campbell River Jules meets 17-year-old Cody Romano and they quickly connect. After some informal encounters the two finally make plans to go out—and that’s when they figure out that Cody’s father owns the lumber mill that Eco-Guardians is trying to protect against logging. Once the teens become aware of the bitter rivalry between their parents they hide their relationship which is hard in such a small town. Can they keep their secret while the court case rages? Readers looking for a feel-good version of Romeo and Juliet—with a little bit of danger and suspense related to the legal battle and an anonymous donor’s support of the Eco-Guardians—will enjoy Cody and Julia’s journey. While the story follows familiar genre beats it still contains enough surprises to sustain readers’ interest. Characters are largely cued white.

Xavier Coates lives and handles maintenance at Leigh Pierce Estates a low-rise apartment building. While the rent is affordable its tenants are saddled with a neglectful property manager who’s waiting to tear the place down—he certainly doesn’t care that some tenants have been disappearing lately. Xavier however has compassion for others including an ailing girl he spots in the basement. He calls her an ambulance but not before her blood apparently infects Xavier who gets progressively sicker in the coming days. Meanwhile Ari and his parents Leena and Cyril have been moving around the basement units. They’re searching for ways to satisfy their hunger pangs though what they’re really feeding is some kind of parasite. It’s the very thing that’s affecting Xavier (he’s seen signs of what’s inside him) and just what Ari’s family can help him with but Xavier may not like how they get their food—or what it is. Cox’s endlessly unnerving story takes repeated shots at health care in America: Xavier gets a massive hospital bill despite being on his mother’s insurance and a medical professional looking into the parasites isn’t especially concerned about Leigh Pierce or the low-income area it’s in. Along with classism the novel tackles themes of sexism and racism (several tenants including Xavier are Black). All the while the author confidently delivers the genre goods blending Cronenbergian body horror with a pervasive sense of doom. A touch of ambiguity (what exactly are those parasites?) heightens the suspense. The prose is richly textured—the narrative has striking passages throughout such as a description of “metal hitting the fallen log with a hollow ring. A sound like a skull splintering open. The bleeding ooze of wood pulp.”

Fuller’s book written with colleagues Rebecca Cheung and Shanyilin Jin is a rich carefully structured field guide to one of the most politically charged and emotionally freighted domains in education. Organized around five central questions—how childhood is defined who shapes early education where learning should occur what constitutes quality and whether preschool can reduce inequality—the book moves methodically from philosophical foundations to contemporary policy debates. It begins by examining four enduring visions of the child from the disciplined future worker to the culturally situated learner showing how these frameworks continue to drive today’s arguments about play school readiness and academic rigor. Subsequent chapters map the mixed-delivery system that now characterizes American early education tracing the roles of unions advocates public schools and private providers. Drawing on decades of empirical research the authors examine what actually improves preschool quality including warm teacher-child relationships rich language exposure and cognitively engaging activities while also acknowledging the stubborn fade-out of early gains and the uneven evidence on long-term effects. Throughout Fuller and his co-authors situate classrooms within broader cultural and economic contexts emphasizing the persistent tension between standardization and pluralism. The book succeeds as a dense but accessible synthesis. The prose is calm measured and scrupulously evidence-based but not bloodless; the authors’ willingness to question sacred cows (“learning through play” among them) gives the analysis intellectual bite without polemical heat. Scholars will appreciate the breadth of research and conceptual framing while practitioners and policy-curious parents will find the arguments legible and often bracing. Even when breaking down technical debates about program effects or institutional design the authors keep the stakes human and recognizable. The result is a rigorous evenhanded work that invites disagreement and rewards careful reading. It is a rare academic treatise that speaks persuasively beyond the academy.

From 1907 to 1938 the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus was one of the biggest in the world and its star attraction was an elephant named Topsy. In North Carolina in 1922 Topsy was spooked by a barking dog and “broke loose from her chains ran into the night and disappeared into the heart of downtown Wilmington.” After a brief rampage through town including a moment when she tried to drink from vats at a local dye factory Topsy found herself sinking into the mud of a nearby lake. Wilmington police officer Leon George arrived on the scene and “with some kind words a few apples peanuts and hay he coaxed Topsy out of the sticky slime” allowing her to be captured and returned to the circus. Now the anniversary of Topsy’s escape is an annual celebration in downtown Wilmington. Knickerbocker’s watercolor-style illustrations are appealing done mostly in sepia tones with occasional bright pops of color. The story feels somewhat overly long at times—in particular it lingers on the relatively uninteresting character of Officer George a little too much—but it’s charming overall and makes clear why circuses no longer include elephant acts.

What’s unsaid often leaves the strongest impression as Tye suggests in this unflinching account of growing up in 1970s Texas. The book’s title nods to the Austin neighborhood where his father moved him and his brother Kenny in June 1970. But the author’s hopes for stability there—after attending eight schools and living in 10 different areas—were crushed by the abusive actions of Beulah his new stepmother. When she broke all his record albums and demanded that he quit his after-school library job the author weary of a life that was “turning into a fight of old versus new” left home for good. The move would consign him to sleeping in secluded areas or on friends’ couches even as he continued attending school and worked toward a better future. He quickly began maximizing his street smarts (“I learned that people treated me better if I didn’t have my pack with me”) which enabled him to gain a string of entry-level jobs and more stable living situations. However the era’s casual feel-good ethos left the author feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. After he asked his latest girlfriend if they were in love her jarring response (“Don’t get confused. It’s just sex”) only strengthened the loner’s emotional armor. Meanwhile he was always aware that one mistake could land him in jail or back under Beulah’s unforgiving control. The point is driven home by one of the book’s funniest scenes in which the author sheepishly confesses his age (just 16) to a clueless server demanding to see his driver’s license (“It got really quiet at our table”).

When he could no longer fend off adult life the author decided to join the U.S. Marine Corps—a life-changing move that would cost him another woman’s affections but would also point him toward his future settled career. The decision sets up the most moving portions of this memoir as when Tye unexpectedly reconnects and reconciles with his father now divorced from Beulah and filled with regret at not doing more to get his son back home. As his father’s health began to fail due to a recurrence of cancer the pair had to face the demons that had pulled their relationship apart as the author effectively recollects: “All those feelings—betrayal fear anger loneliness—had gone into boxes on a shelf in the back of my mind. Now we had opened the box.” How they navigated such a task will hit home for any reader who’s faced a similar wrenching situation and Tye’s heartbreakingly honest narrative style will prompt nods of agreement with one of the book’s core theses: “If there is one thing I know about it is accomplishing the mission.” This combination of mission and memoir highlights the power of forgiveness to repair shattered lives—and in doing so may help some readers to find their own higher purpose.

Aurora begins to hope that the eccentric doomsday preppers’ mansion could be her forever home but when the endless rains come she begins to have doubts. Niko and Jada have BOBs or “Bug-Out-Backpacks” stashed in different rooms and they train Aurora in disaster survival techniques all while repeatedly moving to higher floors in their home to avoid the rising water. Aurora hopes they’ll take her with them when they finally leave—but one morning she wakes up alone in the flooded mansion. Violent men break in but Aurora escapes out a window with her BOB taking off in a boat. She meets a younger boy Kota and the two try to find the rumored safe haven called The Hill. Based on various clues it might be where Niko and Jada went when they abandoned Aurora. This fast-paced novel with dystopian elements will keep readers invested in its action-packed plot. A reoccurring mystery that’s hinted at throughout the narrative leaves ample room for the sequel that’s sure to be in high demand. Most main characters read white. Pale-skinned Kota who has “sleek jet-black hair” is cued as being of Japanese descent.

One month ago 16-year-old Jamie left Bible Hill Nova Scotia to earn a living playing the fiddle in Halifax. Noah’s parents spend their evenings driving to Halifax to look for Jamie so Noah’s grandmother arrives from Cape Breton Island soothing Noah with warm hugs serving him chocolate cake for breakfast and tending to his cold with home remedies. Unlike wild child Jamie whose exploits are legendary “good kid” Noah excels academically and swims competitively but he feels overlooked—and lonely. New girl Alysha Toussaint befriends him but Noah is hurt when Alysha and Jessica Noah’s swimming rival and sometime bully become romantically involved. Noah’s conflicts all come to a head when he sets out alone to look for Jamie bringing the tale to a poignant conclusion. Balancing the larger issue of Jamie’s disappearance with Noah’s need for normalcy and longing for friendship Schwartz Fagan’s well-paced narrative convincingly portrays the anxiety of a family dealing with crisis the pleasures of having a loving grandparent and the typical—yet still excruciating—ups and downs of adolescence. The maritime province’s small-town setting adds flavor and dimension with lyrics from traditional East Coast Canadian songs interspersed. Most characters read white; Alysha’s last name hints at diversity.

Carter Rogers is on the case. His specialty? Looking into deceased and missing class pets. After his class pet a naked mole-rat named Mr. Pebbles mysteriously died Carter teamed up with the snarky rodent’s disembodied spirit to find out why. Now Carter must track down a reptile gone rogue. A milk snake named Milkshake Carter’s older brother JJ’s classroom pet fled her enclosure while JJ was preparing her lunch (a frozen baby mouse). Although skeptical of Carter’s spirit connections JJ nonetheless enlists his assistance. With the help of a magical necklace Carter speaks with Mr. Pebbles and Rootbeer (a spectral snake and Milkshake’s former tankmate) to uncover Milkshake’s whereabouts. Their search leads them to the cafeteria to the teacher’s lounge and finally to a warm bowl of chicken soup. Compared with the first installment this title features slightly less mystery and far more sibling rivalry—in particular Roberts draws effective parallels between Carter and JJ’s relationship and Rootbeer’s bond with Milkshake her adopted sister. The tale also provides ample hallway adventures and slapstick silliness brought to life by Roberts’ lively cartooning. Carter JJ and Lester an interloping classmate who wants in on the spirit conversations are Black; the supporting cast is diverse.

People are ticked off these days observe Culpepper and Lee with “enormous wellsprings of pent-up democratic pressure just looking for a way to get out.” As their narrative opens they examine a predecessor event that uncorked similar pressure: namely the reaction against the meat industry when in 1906 Upton Sinclair published The Jungle documented the “ground-up poisoned rats” and putrefied canned meat that slaughterhouses were foisting on consumers. Two things are worthy of note there the authors hold. The first is that rebellion against the status quo begins with a muckraker an “obsessively committed individual who could focus inchoate public anger around a specific set of demands”—in that case for safe food. The second is that the target of that anger is a corporation an entity capable of being criticized by people with “shared moral outrage.” So it was that Dieselgate came down in 2015 when an American engineer calculated that German auto manufacturers were cheating on emissions standards and after consumer protests drew down fines against Volkswagen alone totaling more than $32 billion. Goldman Sachs and Enron collapsed around scandals while the Cambridge Analytica case brought about significant legislative reforms around privacy. As the authors note not every scandal seems to have legs: Although U.S. Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse uncovered a “smoking gun” that showed that Big Oil was well aware of deleterious climate change half a century ago the public has not exploded in response. Still corporations do best the authors assert when they “stick to what they are good at” delivering goods and services without muddling the political landscape with special pleading leaving political questions the “subject of informed debate between voters not determined by the whims of the leaders of large companies.”

Aya awakens steps out of her hut and sits by the campfire with her grandparents for breakfast. It’s a special day. Today Grandpa will take Aya into the forest to see a bear—a first for her. They mount their horses and make their way through the woods keenly aware of indicators of the shifting seasons among them the changing colors of leaves and birds flying south for the winter. As Grandpa and Aya reach the top of a hill they take their places and wait…and wait. Eventually a mother bear and her three cubs appear and curl up to take a nap on an old abandoned mattress surrounded by trash. After the bears leave Aya and her grandfather burn the garbage to discourage the animals’ dependence on humans—an example of environmental stewardship in action. Warm softly blended colors create detailed portraits of Aya her grandfather and the various animals they encounter. Blackcrane's gentle appealingly straightforward narration sets a steady pace that reflects the story’s theme of patience. Backmatter offers more information on the Oroqen an ethnic group that resides in the forests and mountains of northern China.

Raised by her father in Silverpine Oregon after her mother moved halfway across the world Dani’s separation anxiety ran deep long before Parker ghosted her so when she runs headfirst into him at a bar in New York City she promptly runs out rather than reopen a door for the former best friend who’d loved and abandoned her. She had been just “six when…Mom packed up her easel and art supplies and flew back to Taiwan.” Losing Parker—the friend with whom she’d felt an “immediate spark—a seamless connection between two seven-year-olds as if they’d known one another in a past life”—that might have been even harder. It made Dani harder too. Dani and Parker had been connected for 13 years from elementary school through college on opposite coasts (Parker got a scholarship to play football at Oregon while Dani pursued her writing dreams at Columbia) until Parker’s no-show on Christmas Eve opened a wound that wouldn’t heal. But now when Dani finds herself drawn to Parker against most of her instincts for self-preservation she doesn’t begin an extended game of cat-and-mouse. Parker may be a former star athlete turned sports-marketing wunderkind and Dani a nerdy writer who lives inside her head but it’s Dani who has the agency to grab Parker by the lapels and take what she’s long wanted. And when they rekindle the friendship this time with plenty of steam it’s drawn in artful detail and both the chemistry and banter are fire.

Writing in first person from the point of view of light itself (“I spin the wheel of life”) Herz compares his subject to a rolling marble and an ocean wave. With nods to X-rays radio waves and other forms of “traveling energy” he describes the topic first in simple terms and then in greater detail in a follow-up section. Light illuminates everything earthly and astronomical. Moreover Herz goes on light has been long cherished as a symbol of a “guiding presence” glowing atop candles and in places of worship as a reminder “that there is something greater out there.” Using long-exposure photo shoots López once more finds an inspired way to depict the physical phenomena that the author personifies in his two-tiered explanatory narratives. Her artwork has impressionistic elements depicting a pair of tan-skinned children and a sometimes-animate plush bunny as they celebrate sunbeams and a rainbow gaze into mirrors swish in a pool to show how light bends in water and point to the nighttime sky. Despite a bit of poetic license in the claim that all living things depend on light (since there are some dark-dwelling creatures that don’t) this eloquent elegant testimonial offers much to engage heads as well as hearts. “Until the stars dim I show the way. I AM LIGHT.”

How does a person survive a trauma-filled childhood to rise to the top of a scientific field?As a child to neglectful drug-addicted parents Sussillo writes that he did most of his growing up in group homes where he learned to survive amid stern houseparents and abusive housemates. Luckily for him he found joy in arcade and computer games which soon offered him opportunities to understand the inner workings of computer programs. “Computers made you like an army general or master chef” he writes. “You gave the PC carefully written recipes and it executed those recipes faithfully and without complaint forever and ever.” In adolescence he became enthralled with things he learned about from popular science magazines and television shows ideas that further fed his intellectual curiosity. His story ping-pongs from the many terrible role models in his life to the occasional angels—friends relatives and teachers—who show Sussillo how friendship love and shared interests can make life worthwhile. The author sprinkles in well-written and engaging asides on scientific topics that fascinated him as a youth such as physics coding and neuroscience and that foreshadow his career path which centers on understanding complex systems. His smarts and inquisitiveness certainly served him well and he also credits years of psychoanalysis as a key factor in becoming the person he is today. Sussillo is clear-eyed about how his tumultuous past gave him a unique perspective on the world. He writes “The very chaos that had once seemed like an insurmountable obstacle could be a source of strength resilience and especially creativity.”

The mouse who narrates this tale seems cautiously intrigued when a human parent and child (both of whom present white) move into a house where the rodents have been living under the floorboards. But the other mice are alarmed; after all they’ve all heard Uncle Rupert’s tales. People “are three THOUSAND times bigger than we are” they “make us run in wheels for their own entertainment” and they have “brightly colored fur” (this last is paired with a fresh and contemporary image depicting a trio of kids with hair dyed different hues). We follow the mice as they sneak out at night to explore the contents of the moving boxes making a mess. The next day the child sets a glass jar over a hole in the floorboard and catches the narrator. Initially scared the rodents come to the protagonist’s rescue and soon discover the child’s benevolent purpose: building a “Mouse Land” from the emptied boxes. Just as the mice are about to celebrate a menacing-looking housecat shows up sending the rodents scurrying nixing the possibility of cross-species friendship and bringing the tale to an abrupt end. Mixed-media illustrations recalling the artwork from Emily Arnold McCully’s mouse books set a cozy tone while effective use of composition and layout differentiate the human and rodent realms. The narrator’s exuberant voice marked by enthusiastic asides is endearing and images of the mice romping will enchant even the most rodent-averse.

Audrey Adams is a barista in a Brooklyn coffee shop. She can’t help but be attracted to Theo Sullivan a painfully shy customer who doesn’t remove his KN95 mask even to drink his coffee. One day Theo tries to help Audrey with an aggressive customer but the woman retaliates by ripping the mask off his face revealing a large disfiguring facial scar. Theo flees the shop and doesn’t return leaving only his sketchbook behind. A few weeks later Audrey spies him on the street and encourages him to come back. The two begin dating and quickly fall in love. Audrey had moved to New York for college after being raised by a foster mother in Tampa Florida. Now 24 she is just one semester shy of finishing her degree in electrical engineering at NYU. Theo grew up in New York. His parents divorced and while his late father was a mechanic his mother is a lawyer from a wealthy powerful family. Theo never fit in with his mother’s clan preferring to work in his father’s garage. He eventually pursued art and design instead of law school making him even more of a black sheep. Even though there are interesting opportunities for friction and conflict in Audrey and Theo’s relationship—for example class differences or their eight-year age gap—the novel’s only source of tension is Theo’s refusal to tell the story of his life-threatening accident. Harris makes several disjointed narrative decisions. The body of the novel is told exclusively from Audrey’s point of view except for a 35-page flashback of Theo’s accident. Even more unusual is a 74-page epilogue that retells most of the major plot points from Theo’s perspective which has the unfortunate effect of making this lonely broken man seem sidelined in his own story.

Cartoon-style illustrations use wordless opening scenes to show two children (one is brown-skinned; the other presents Asian) reading books with plain gray covers. Then an offstage speaker interrupts to judge these books by their covers deeming them “BORING and HO-HUM” and “VERY SERIOUS BOOKS!” The tone becomes congratulatory and subtly conspiratorial as the narrator encourages the children to find ways “to let EVERYONE ELSE know you are reading a very serious book.” What follows is a humorous scene as the kids read the supposedly serious books in front of others while wearing mustaches sporting glasses sipping tea and so on. When some rambunctious squirrels disrupt their picnic and send the books flying illustrations reveal that these gray books have panels as in a graphic novel—much like the layout of this story’s own spreads. The punchline seems to be that the children’s books weren’t so serious after all though the sophistication of the interplay between text and art cleverly belies that message. A closing image positions the brown-skinned adult who joins the children and reads with them as the offstage speaker and reinforces the pleasures of reading illustrated books.