By Katy Dycus

There are a few stories my two-year-old returns to again and again, plopping himself down on my lap and saying (in a demanding yet endearing way), “Mama, read!” Coincidentally, these are books I also enjoy for their layers of wit and humor that speak to every life stage. For adults and children alike, these art-filled treasures set the imagination soaring.

Harold Snipperpot’s Best Disaster Ever

I want to call this a Dickensian Christmas pudding sort of book. (Although it’s set in Paris, not London). Here you have a terribly rich yet lonely little boy who’s turning seven but who’s never experienced a real birthday party. Harold is determined for this year to be different, however, so he gets his mother to enlist the help of Mr. Ponzio, the ultimate party planner.

On the day of the birthday party, Harold and his parents anxiously await their guests. They’re shocked to learn that the invitees are not other children but rather wild animals.  After parading through the Parisian streets and into their grand home by the Seine, the animals quickly make themselves at home. The giraffe eats their Art Deco chandelier (a family heirloom), the turtles eat pages out of Mr. Snipperpot’s rare book collection, the hippo gives himself a bath. The party is equal parts chaos and commotion but altogether memorable for Harold, who considers it his “best disaster ever.”

Beatrice Alemagna, a self-taught author and illustrator, uses mixed media – pencils, watercolors, gouache, oils, collage, felting – to create her signature style, a blend of traditional and experimental. This commitment to artistic exploration makes her books both a joy and a wonder. So many details compete for my son’s attention at once, so that nothing else really matters in that moment. And it is the same for me.

Where Did Momo’s Hair Go?

A phrase my son utters at random, at least once a week – at the supermarket, in the car, at the playground – is “Momo hair go?” At first, I couldn’t decipher what he was saying, and then I realized he was referring to Stéphanie Boyer’s charming book Where Did Momo’s Hair Go? Never has the title of a book become so ingrained in my son’s lexicon!

Boyer’s delightful book features a colorful cast of characters – Momo’s hair (our main character), people and animals – journeying through the heart of a city on foot, by bus, scooter, skateboard, boat, vespa and bicycle. The story begins with Momo, a clown, rushing off to his next gig. He’s in such a hurry to catch the bus that his hair flies right off his head. We watch as Momo’s red hair travels the city, landing on the heads of different dogs one after another: Mrs. Strudel’s poodle, Mr. Bastian’s dalmatian, Mr. Joshua’s Chihuahua, Ms. Peppard’s German shepherd.

Caroline Hamel’s bright, bold illustrations relay the humor of the text in a buoyant way, and Boyer sprinkles repetitious language throughout so that children can begin to anticipate certain words and phrases. The book ends on one such word, offering children the chance to imagine where Momo’s hair travels next.

Get On Your Bike

People say to “never judge a book by its cover,” but come on, we all do it. We picked this book up at the library because my son loves bicycles and even better, animals on bicycles. But I soon discovered much more to this story than its featured mode of transport. Above all, this is a story about relationships and what we do when a relationship is in conflict.

When Bobby the panda and William the dog get into an argument, William tells Bobby, “Go on! Just get on your bike and leave!” Get on your bike is the Dutch expression for “get out of here” or “leave me alone.” It’s normally figurative, but in Bobby’s case, it’s taken literally. Bobby gets on his bike and rides through the city, stopping at every stoplight and going in whichever direction is green.

Philip Hopman’s illustrations turn the bike ride into an immersive experience bursting with life and color. My son loves to point out the different vehicles and animals on every page. Hopman rewards mature readers with pop culture references and allusions to Dutch artists like Rembrandt.

When the bike ride comes to an end, Bobby has accumulated a range of cityscapes and landscapes. He is calmer now and ready to see William again. A great way to deal with anger, Akveld suggests, is to get on your bike and ride. Given some time, space, and exercise, you might just forget what it is you were arguing about.

Hello, Monster!

My toddler asks to read “Monster!” every chance he gets, and how can I resist with that mischievous grin slapped across his face matching that of Maisie Paradise Shearring’s creature in Hello, Monster! Clémentine Beauvais takes a common theme – a parent asking their child to go play with “that little boy over there … He’s all on his own” – and turns it into something extraordinarily fresh.

Our narrator imagines “that little boy” as a furry blue monster in disguise. A monster that keeps dozens of children like him in his underground kingdom to look after his moles, comb his fur and cook his slimy green dinner. Trapped in this subterranean world, our narrator devises a plan for the children’s escape, and they end up in a black panther’s cage at the zoo. A battle ensues when the monster emerges from his underground lair. And all of this because the narrator’s mother told him to go play with “that little boy over there.” 

Shearring’s illustrations create a deceptively simple world containing depths of humor, nostalgia, surprise and beauty, which complement a text full of the same. In Hello, Monster! we find a story that honors the freedom of being oneself and celebrates the vibrancy and urgency of children’s rich inner worlds.

About Katy Dycus

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