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#4 Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown, illustrated by Clement Moore (1947)
167 points

Well, it’s a classic for a reason. – Joanne Rousseau

This one I can still recite even though I last read at least 10 or more years ago. Again a classic that will endure and delight for a long time to come. – Christine Kelly

My daughter had this book read to her every night from the womb until she was almost 3. When I think of perfect bedtime stories, this is at the top of the list. – DeAnn Okamura

Time and again my readers would tell me that they loved this book because of what it did to their children. In March 1953, this book was spotlighted in Child Behavior, a syndicated parental-advice column with what I consider the sentence that defines this book. “It captures the two-year-old so completely that it seems almost unlawful that you can hypnotize a child off to sleep as easily as you can by reading this small classic.”  And millions of parents walk around feeling guilt free.

A description of the plot (such as it is) courtesy of The Christian Science Monitor: “A little rabbit bids goodnight to each familiar thing in his moonlit room. Rhythmic, gently lulling words combined with warm and equally lulling pictures make this beloved classic an ideal bedtime book.”

The reference book I should really have on hand for this (and don’t) is Awakened by the Moon by Leonard Marcus, the definitive Margaret Wise Brown biography.  I do not own it as I was never a Goodnight Moon fan (oh yeah, I said it!).  In lieu of that, we shall have to look at other books instead for our info.  100 Best Books for Children makes note of the fact that when Clement Hurd first illustrated this book he made the boy and the grandmother human.  This was changed into bunnies at a later date.  And at editor Ursula Nordstrom’s suggestion the udders on the cow also became less anatomically correct (which is strange considering that Nordstrom would later defend the very human anatomical parts found in In the Night Kitchen).

Nothing popular is without controversy.  Even something as sweet and innocent as Goodnight Moon.  In the case of this book we have two controversial topics to refer to.  #1 involves illegitimate children and an unworthy heir.  #2 is the case of a missing cigarette.

Let’s look at #1 first.  I’d consider the pedigree of this story sketchy, were it not so bloody well written.  Apparently the article Runaway Money: A Children’s Classic, A 9-Year-Old-Boy And a Fateful Bequest appeared in The Wall Street Journal, though the sole copy I can find online appears on the reporter’s website.  The long and the short of it is that Margaret Wise Brown willed a neighbor’s child as the benefactor of some of her books.  Amongst them, Goodnight Moon.  And for this particular kid, there couldn’t possibly have been a worse gift to give.  It’s fascinating.  Particularly when you get to his dubious claims regarding Ms. Brown’s relationship to himself.

Controversy #2 – Clement Hurd and his penchant for the smokes.  Cast your minds back to 2005.  An innocent time.  A time when Harper Collins decided that maybe it would be a good idea to remove the cigarette from illustrator Clement Hurd’s photograph.  CNET Ne

#5 The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats (1962)
166 points

The first book I would run to on my trips to the library. Just wonderful. – Hotspur Closser

What is it like to be a small child in the snow? Ezra Jack Keats gave us the answer with this timeless story of Peter’s gentle adventures on a day of snow. The pictures are so striking that I had to check to remember that there are, in fact, words. They describe the way Peter walks in the snow with his toes pointing out and then in, the way he drags his feet and finds a stick to drag, too. The stick is “just right for smacking a snow-covered tree.” Such fine, detailed observations! Peter wants to join the big boys’ snowball fight, but knows he’s too little. Instead he makes a snowman and a snow angel. The snowball he takes home in his pocket is the final, funny detail that brings the book to a kindly close. Because even though it melts, there is more snow for tomorrow—and a friend to play with. – Kate Coombs

For the triangle of little boy back peeping through pajamas on the first page, and for the hope Peter packed into his pocket. - DaNae Leu

According to Keats, “The purpose of the book and the subject matter of the book was so strong that my style changed completely. I had never painted that way before. It turned out to be the beginning of a whole new style to me because I was so deeply involved.”  Classic.  And how.

The description from my review: “In this book, Peter wakes up to discover that snow has covered the city in the night. Delighted, he pulls on his bright red (and now world-known) snowsuit and plunges into a day of exploring and playing. He makes fun tracks, and hits snow off the branches of trees. He constructs a smiling snowman and slides down steep mountains of white powder. At the end of the day his mother gets him out of his wet clothes and gives him a nice hot bath. The next morning the snow is still there, and an ecstatic Peter calls up a friend to do the whole day over again.”

100 Best Books for Children gives some additional background information on the book.  “Today it is hard to believe that critics virulently attacked Ezra Jack Keats and that The Snowy Day was one of the most controversial children’s books of the 1960s . . . During the late 1960s and 1970s Keats . . .  was accused of everything from stereotyped characters to having no right, as a white man, to feature black children in his books.”  Some confusion continues to exist today over Keats’ race.  When I complained that my last Top 100 Picture Books Poll was lacking in diversity (a fact that, sad to say, has only been correctly modestly this second time around), one commenter said, “Wasn’t Whistle for Willy in there? For a multicultural author?”  And since Willy is, in effect, Snowy Day’s sequel, you can see where the confusion lies (Peter, for the record, would go on to also appear in Peter’s Chair, A Letter to Amy, Goggles, Hi Cat

#7 Knuffle Bunny, A Cautionary Tale by Mo Willems (2004)
129 points

These perfect pictures of New York City complement the family tale of Daddy who is wrong, wrong, wrong, and Trixie, who is totally right, but can’t yet say words to tell him. Heartwarming and hilarious. – Diantha McBride

And this is the book that sealed that obsession evermore. Mo-tastic. - Pam Coughlan

There have been others, and they are just as good, but this one still makes all of us smile (and my youngest is six now). Sometimes, the first one is still the best. - Melissa Fox

This may be a shocking inclusion on the Top 10 list to some, but for others they might remember that last time I conducted this poll Knuffle Bunny came in at a reasonable #10.  Now it moves up three spots, which may owe as much to its continued popularity as to the success of its subsequent sequels.  I do wonder if even Mr. Mo knew that Trixie would gain a trilogy out of the tale of one lost bunny.

The plot from my old review reads, “Trixie and her pop are off to the local neighborhood Laundromat one bright and sunny day. They get there, load the clothes, and take off for home when little Trixie comes to an awful realization. Knuffle Bunny, her beloved favorite toy, is missing. Unfortunately for her, she has not yet learned to talk. After some valiant tries (my favorite being the single tearful ’snurp’) she feels she has no alternative but to burst into a full-blown tantrum. This doesn’t make her father any happier and since he hasn’t realized what the problem is, he takes her home as she kicks and screams. Once home, however, her mother quickly asks, ‘Where’s Knuffle Bunny’? Back runs the whole family to the Laundromat where, at long last, the beloved bunny is recovered and Trixie says her first real words.”

Its origin story is rooted in a happy accident.  Alessandra Balzer (of Balzer & Bray, an imprint of Harper Collins) was in an office with Mo and his art director as he vaguely told a story about his daughter.  Alessandra insisted that he turn the story into a book, so he went home to try.  He’d done a comic about his family for a DC comics anthology but, as he says in Leonard Marcus’s book Show Me a Story: Why Picture Books Matter, “the characters weren’t popping and I couldn’t get it to work.  Then one of my drawings accidentally fell on top of one of the photographs on my light box, and I suddenly had the idea to combine the two.”  That distinctive look is part of what sets KB apart from the pack.  He result is that Willems believes that by combining drawings with photos “They’re purer than more realistic drawings of the character would have been, because their design focuses on their emotional side.”

Mo spoke at a SCBWI conference in the Pacific Northwest about five or six years ago.  At the time he discussed the fact that Knuffle Bunny was the first Caldecott Honor winner to contain photography in any way, shape, or form.  He’s been asked since then why he made such a “bold” choice.  The fact of the matter, though, is that he partly saw it as a time saver.  Of course, once he got into it he didn’t realize the amount of soul-sucking hours it would take to resize the characters so that they’d be proportional within their photographic environment.  As it happens, the result is that he managed to create one of the only (perhaps THE only?) Caldecott Honor winners to incorporate photography into its images.

Said Horn Book, “There’s plenty here for kids to embrace. There are playful illustrations and a simple, satisfy

#8 Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst, illustrated by Ray Cruz (1972)
120 points

We all have bad days—even in Australia. – Heather Christensen

Of all the books out there that deal with schadenfreude, none do it quite so well as Alexander.  Now there’s a kid who just cannot win.  He’s the Charlie Brown of picture books.  If he isn’t losing his cash in Alexander, Who Used to Be Rich Last Sunday then he’s protesting a new living situation (not in Australia) in Alexander, Who’s Not (Do You Hear Me? I Mean It!) Going to Move. Of course he started life in this book where everything that could possibly go wrong does.  The perfect antidote to any adult that claims that childhood is one sweet, blissful, stress free ride of innocence and carefree days.

The plot synopsis from the publisher reads, “He could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. He went to sleep with gum in his mouth and woke up with gum in his hair. When he got out of bed, he tripped over his skateboard and by mistake dropped his sweater in the sink while the water was running. He could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Nothing at all was right. Everything went wrong, right down to lima beans for supper and kissing on TV. What do you do on a day like that? Well, you may think about going to Australia. You may also be glad to find that some days are like that for other people too.”

I know little about the creation of this book but I do like that in her bio Ms. Viorst (who is still publishing to this day with such titles as the upcoming September title Lulu Walks the Dogs) writes that she has been writing, “at least since I was seven or eight, when I composed an ode to my dead parents, both of whom were alive and well and, when they read my poem, extremely annoyed.”  She has three sons, one of whom is named “Alexander”.  And so yet another child of an author goes on to become a cultural phenomenon.

I feel like illustrator Ray Cruz never gets enough credit for this book.  I mean, half the time you hear this title mentioned it’s alongside the name “Judith Viorst”.  Not Ray Cruz.  And certainly the case could be made that unlike some other books it’s the writing and concept of this story that sticks in the mind the best.  But I also feel that there’s a reason that this 1972 publication has never been republished with a different artist.  The sole biography I was able to track down of the man reads, “Ray Cruz grew up in New York City and has been drawing since he was five years old. In addition to his work as an illustrator, he has had extensive experience in textile design and graphic art.”  As for his art, the de Grummond Children’s Literature Collection in Minnesota may yield some answers there. “The Ray Cruz Papers contain original illustrations, color separations, layouts, and book dummies for nine books illustrated by Cruz between 1971 and 1987.”  Yet the Alexander book about moving was actually done by future Fancy Nancy artist Robin Preiss Glasser.  Why the switch?

As 100 Best Books for Children points out so accurately, “Bibliotherapy rarely produces a classic, but this book describes perfectly a simple childhood

#10 The Monster at the End of This Book by Jon Stone, illustrated by Mike Smollin (1971)

For the pure joy of watching your audience’s faces as you read this aloud. – DaNae Leu

I had to look up the author – don’t think I ever read his name! I just thought of it as by Sesame Workshop. – Robin Parry

“Don’t turn the page”. I’ll never forget the first time I read this to my daughter. She really didn’t want me to turn the page. And then she laughed at the end. – Joanne Rousseau

I remember this book from my childhood more than any other. - Pam Coughlan

In this poll we’ve seen a lot of votes sink sink sink from their previous places.  Now, at last, here’s a book that’s gone up up up in the world.  Previously holding down a spot at #22, Stone’s title is remarkable partly because it not only introduced so many of us to the

You will not find The Monster at the End of This Book in The Norton Anthology of Children’s Literature.  It does not appear in 100 Best Books for Children, or within the pages of Nancy Pearl’s Book Crush.  It has never won a Caldecott.  You cannot find it on most Top 100 Picture Book lists, nor in New York Public Library’s collection.

And yet . . . .

And yet here we find at #22, almost making it into the Top 20, the one and only truly successful Sesame Street book ever to touch the hearts and minds of readers everywhere.  Sesame Street has a history of frustrating libraries and educators with its sometimes tepid literary production, but there was at least one notable exception to this.  And it involved a furry blue monster.

The description of the plot from the publisher reads, “Generations of kids have interacted with lovable, furry old Grover as he begs the reader not to turn the page . . . for a monster is at the end of the book! ‘Oh, I am so embarrassed,’ he says on the last page, for of course the monster is Grover himself!”

Robin mentioned not knowing who the author of this book was, and I’m sure she’s not alone.  For those of us who count ourselves as Sesame Street groupies, though, Mr. Stone was one of the big time heavyweights behind the show itself.  He wrote and produced the television program after doing some work on Captain Kangaroo.  Joan Ganz Cooney called him “probably the most brilliant writer of children’s television material in America.”  For a lot more information on Stone you can refer to Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street by Michael Davis which covers a lot of this ground.

Really, it’s illustrator Mike Smollin who piques my interest.  I mean, talk about a forgotten fellow.  Looking at his roster on Amazon you can see that he did a fair number of Sesame Street titles (The Great Cookie Thief, anyone?) as well as other series like Strawberry Shortcake, LEGO, books by Seaworld about Shamu, etc.  Fortunately the man has a website and there we learn that he was an advertiser turned illustrator.  “Over the years, Michael’s imaginative endeavors have been recognized with awards from the Emmys, The Society of Illustrators, The Detroit Bravo Awards and The Hollywood Reporter.”  He passed away in 2010 and looking at his career there is little doubt that this book remains

#16 Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson (1955)
73 points

It’s like the best kind of dream! It’s surreal and meta and mindbending! And also funny! I found it haunting when I was a kid, reality being created as you go; now that surrealism is one of my favorite things about it. I love the bits like there being nothing but pie, but it was all nine kinds of pie Harold liked best; and random characters like the very hungry moose and deserving porcupine. It’s so simple and so brilliant! – Amy M. Weir

Because it’s the most succinct expression of imaginative possibility ever created. – Philip Nel

Uh-oh.  Another book has slipped down from the Top Ten.  Previously ranking at #7, Harold manages to cling to the Top 20 but it’s hard to think what might replace him.  The boy is ubiquitous, after all.

The plot synopsis from B&N reads, “Harold’s wonderful purple crayon makes everything he draws become real. One evening, Harold draws a path and a moon and goes for a walk-and the moon comes too. After many adventures, Harold gets tired and can’t find his bedroom. Finally, he remembers that the moon always shines through his bedroom window. He draws himself a bed, and ‘the purple crayon dropped on the floor, and Harold dropped off to sleep.’ This little gem is filled with visual and written puns.”

Growing up I knew of Harold but had far more of a connection to the rip-off animated series Simon in the Land of the Chalk Drawings.  Odd but true.

There are many things to enjoy in Dear Genius: The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom.  What the book really does best, though, is give us a salty editor talking about the classics she’s editing in her customary off-hand manner.  Take Harold and the Purple Crayon.  In a letter dated December 15, 1954, Ursula has just gotten a revised version of this story and she is writing to Crockett, the author/illustrator.  “I’m awfully sorry my first reaction to Harold was so lukewarm and unenthusiastic.  I really think it is going to make a darling book, and I certainly was wrong at first.  This is a funny job.  The Harper children’s books have had such a good fall, so many on so many lists, etc. etc., and I was feeling a little good – not satisfied, you understand, but I thought gosh I’m really catching on to things, I bet, and pretty soon it ought to get easier.  And then I stubbed my toe on Harold and his damned purple crayon . . . .”

At long last I finally have an excuse to break out my old Smithsonian Collection of Newspaper Comics.  You see if you know anything about Crockett Johnson you know he wrote Harold and the Purple Crayon and illustrated The Carrot Seed.  If you know anything else about him, though, you may be aware that his real name was David Johnson Liesk and that between 1942 and 1946 (after which it was handed it over to others) he created the comic strip Barnaby.  Barnaby has its fans.  People have said it was a predecessor to Calvin and Hobbes, though the premise varies slightly.  As the Smithsonian puts it, the story was really about “a boy and his cigar-chomping fairy godfather, Mister O’Malley.”  Johnson began as a magazine cartoonist, turned to picture books in the 50’s and, “in his later years (he died in 1975) he devoted himself to nonobjective painting.”  I’ve attempted to scan some Barnaby strips for you, in case you’re interested.  I apo

#17 The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf, illustrated by Robert Lawson (1936)
73 points

I remember liking this as a child, but I love it even more as a parent, when my children love to listen to it. It’s a gentle story, and can sometimes be calming at bedtime, but they also love to run around the house yelling “Wow! Did it hurt!” regarding the bumblebee scene. - Libby Gorman

What a beautiful message about being true to who you are! The simple sketches by Robert Lawson are fantastic. – Alexandra Eichel

Because, with a mix of humor and gravity, it sustains many very different interpretations. - Philip Nel

I was the Ferdinand in my family of birth. - Laura Gallardo

True story.  I walk into the local Aveda to get my hair styled and the fellow they’ve given me is a chatty sort.  Wants to talk to me about my job, librarianship, that sort of thing.  And in the midst of our conversation I somehow steer it over to the Top 100 Picture Books poll and the books that did particularly well.  He doesn’t remember the names of children’s books, but he brings up (of all things), “That story about the bull with the flowers.”  “Ferdinand?”, I ask.  “That’s the one!”  That leads into a conversation of the book, the fact that his roommate has that bull tattooed onto his back (this is true), and the controversy surrounding it  . . . but I get ahead of myself.  In any case, clearly this book is on the minds of the non-children’s picture book reading public at large as well as the fans of the field.

Children’s Literature described the plot as, “Set in Spain, it is about a young bull named Ferdinand. All bulls in Spain aspire to one day fight in the ring with a matador. But not Ferdinand. All day long the young bulls play at fighting in hopes that one day they will be strong enough to be chosen for the bullfights. But Ferdinand prefers to quietly sit in the pasture and enjoy his surroundings. When the bulls all mature, they long to be selected for the bullring…all but Ferdinand. As the other bulls prance and preen, hoping to be selected, Ferdinand ignores the commotion. Suddenly, Ferdinand is stung by a bumblebee. He bellows and dances around like crazy. The matadors are so impressed with his machismo they select him as the strongest bull. He is praised all around for his power, until the day of the bullfight. Poor Ferdinand just sits there. The matadors prod and coax with no luck. Ferdinand is not interested in fighting. Ferdinand is returned to his pasture to live out his life in solitude.”

In any case, this is a lovely banned book to place on the list.  Banned by whom?  Oh, nobody much.  Just a fellow by the name of Adolf Hitler.  You see it was published during the Spanish civil war, Franco banned it in Spain, and then Hitler goes and calls it “degenerate democratic propaganda.”  100 Best Books for Children does say that it had its admirers as well, though.  “Thomas Mann, H.G. Wells, Gandhi, and Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt.”  So, to sum up.  Hitler hated it and Gandhi loved it.  That’s a fine pedigree for this list, I should think.

In Tales for Little Rebels, there’s quite the lovely section dedicated to the book.  “When the book was published in the fall of 1936, critics accused Ferdinand of being communist, pacifist, and fascist, and of satirizing communism, pacifism, and fascism. . . .

#18 A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Philip Stead, illustrated by Erin E. Stead (2010)
71 points

Too soon to appear? I think not. Amos and his friends feel as if they have been with us forever, as they will be. Also because the penguin’s red socks are just so irresistible. – DaNae Leu

This is a recent book, but it’s destined to be a classic. Everytime I read this book I feel the need to hug the book at the end-that’s how much I love it. Amos and his animals feel so real and I love being part of their story for awhile. – Sarah

The last time this poll for picture books was conducted the year was 2009.  That is the sole reason, insofar as I can tell, that A Sick Day for Amos McGee did not make the Top 100.  After all, it’s a modern classic.

The description from my review reads, “Each morning it’s the same. Amos McGee gets out of bed, puts on his uniform, and goes to his job as zookeeper in the City Zoo. Amos takes his job very seriously. He always makes sure to play chess with the elephant, run races with the tortoise, sit quietly with the penguin, blow the rhino’s runny nose, and tell stories to the owl at dusk. Then one day Amos wakes up sick and has to stay in bed. The animals, bereft of his presence, decide something must be done. So they pick themselves up and take the bus to Amos’s house to keep him company for a change. And after everyone helps him out, Amos reads them all a story and each one of them tucks in for the night.”

In an interview at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, Ms. Stead spoke a little bit about creating this book.  It was her first picture book, written by her husband, and she explained her process to Jules, beginning with “The first tactic I use in order to make a picture is to avoid my drawing table area entirely. I’ll walk the dog, sit on the porch, or bake. There is too much pressure at the drawing table, and I like to get to know my characters before I draw them. Once I feel confident navigating a blank piece of paper, I do a sketch or two. Some are better than others, but most are not very pretty.”

• You can read the Children’s Book-a-Day Almanac piece on the book here.

PW said, “Newcomer Erin Stead’s elegant woodblock prints, breathtaking in their delicacy, contribute to the story’s tranquility and draw subtle elements to viewers’ attention: the grain of the woodblocks themselves, Amos’s handsome peacock feather coverlet. Every face–Amos’s as well as the animals’–brims with personality. Philip Stead’s (Creamed Tuna Fish and Peas on Toast) narrative moves with deliberate speed, dreaming up a joyous life for the sort of man likely to be passed on the street without a thought.”

Said SLJ, “The artwork in this quiet tale of good deeds rewarded uses woodblock-printing techniques, soft flat colors, and occasional bits of red. Illustrations are positioned on the white space to move the tale along and underscore the bonds of friendship and loyalty. Whether read individually or shared, this gentle story will resonate with youngsters.”

Booklist had an unexpected take, saying, “

#19 The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter (1902)
69 points

Potter never wrote down to children. The size is perfect for little ones to hold and pour over the detailed illustrations. – Natalie

Forever classic. – Rose Marie Moore

Introducing the oldest book to appear on the Top 100 picture book list.  I’m a Potter fan myself.  To my mind the charm of these books has to do with the fact that Beatrix Potter was a naturalist.  She drew realistic animals who just happened to be wearing knickers, breeches, and shiny brass buttons.  Somehow, when you draw a realistic animal wearing clothing, that image is infinitely cuter than however many eyelashes and big brown eyes you might choose to bedeck a critter with.

The description from my review reads: “Peter lives, as many of us know, in a large fir tree with his mother and his siblings Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail. His father was baked in a pie (a fact that many parents have decried as too dark for children, and that many children have shrugged at without a second thought). Though instructed by his mother NOT to go digging in Mr. McGregor’s garden, he’s a naughty little thing. His tasty trip is brought up short, however, when he stumbles across the farmer himself. In the course of their chase Peter loses his little blue jacket with the shiny brass buttons and must return to his mother (after a series of close shaves) without it or his shoes. He is promptly put to bed with a cup of chamomile tea (a fate we non-chamomile tea drinkers must assume is harsh) while his siblings eat the tasty blackberries they picked that morning.”

Did Ms. Potter terrorize Roald Dahl and the siblings of Diana Wynne Jones when they were children?  That’s the rumor anyway.  In working on my Candlewick book (tentative working title: Wild Things: The True and Untold Stories Behind Children’s Books) alongside the wonderful Jules Danielson and late and amazing Peter Sieruta I determined to get to the root of the matter.  Was Potter the meanie people desperately want to believe she was, or could it be that someone else was doing the yelling and Ms. Potter was taking the blame?  Sorry, folks.  I’m going to pull the old you’ll-have-to-read-the-book when it comes out in Fall 2013 card on you.

Considering how long she lived she has a somewhat limited roster.  How to account for that?  100 Best Books for Children says of Potter’s later years (when she married and didn’t write) that “Her creative energies appear to have been sparked by unhappiness rather than the deep contentment that came in her later life.”

Of course the story goes that these books were printed small for little child hands.  Like the Nutshell Library books, the titles were meant to be little.  They’ve been expanded since then (there’s money to be made). In fact The Norton Anthology of Children’s Literature dedicates quite a bit of time to Peter, discussing his many incarnations over the years.  They say, “But despite Peter Rabbit’s iconic status, an unauthorized edition was published in the United States in 1982 with new, distinctly American illustrations.”  The illustrator in this case was one Allen Atkinson and the pictures are a weird mix of Potter’s color scheme and a more cartoonish take on the animals.  Norton goes on to say, “In 1987, Ladybird Books published a new British edition, hoping to broaden the audience by using photographs of stuffed toys and softening the text, on the assumption that children could no longer relate to watercolors and would be upset by Potter’s attitudes toward puni

#20 Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes by Eric Litwin, illustrated by James Dean (2010)
68 points

Once the song is downloaded and played, it will never leave your head! Catchy in a good way. Also, it teaches an important lesson to “not sweat the small stuff.” Great for kids and adults alike. – Gina Detate

Do not be fooled by the simplicity of this little picture book. As with Mo Willems’ Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, there is more here than meets the eye; there is genius in the pages.

Here is my Tip-slash-Promise: If you will teach your little ones two things before you start reading, you will have an instant-favorite on your hands.
1] Teach them to say, with enthusiasm, of course, “”Goodness, no!”"
2] Teach them the song Pete sings. You can see a video of the author himself reading this book with kids at PetetheCat.com. Super-simple to learn and sing. Kids lovelovelove it.

One of my favorite things about Pete the Cat is the moral of the story, which speaks to adults more than it does to kids. Winner.

Warning: You will find yourself singing, at odd times of the day, “I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes….” – Kristi Hazelrigg

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how you create a serious upset! A show of hands from all of you who saw this one coming. A few? Well done then. Though aware of Pete’s popularity I had mentally relegated him to that genre of popular picture books that get a lot of attention then fade slowly into the mist. I had not counted on Pete’s ability to attract not only the masses but the gatekeepers as well.

The plot according to SLJ reads, “Pete the Cat strolls down the street singing, ‘I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes.’ Then he steps in (actually climbs up) a huge hill of strawberries that turn his pristine sneakers red. ‘Did Pete cry? Goodness, no! He kept walking along and singing his song. I love my red shoes….’ He proceeds to step in a mound of blueberries and then a mud puddle, each incident changing his sneakers to a new hue (the colors never blend). Unsmiling but placid, Pete takes it all in stride. After stepping into a ‘bucket’—more like a tub—of water, he notices that his sneakers are not only white again, but also wet.”

The story behind the book is one of those once in a blue moon success stories.  Artist James Dean started out as an electrical engineer, actually.  After quitting his job to paint full time he adopted a small black cat, named it Pete, and started painting it with blue fur.  The real Pete took off for parts unknown but James kept painting him.  That’s when Eric saw the paintings around town (the town in question being Atlanta) and started writing songs about him.  Eventually the two men collaborated and voila.  Instant picture book.  The original Pete picture book was published by the author and illustrator in 2008 by their own Blue Whisker Press.  Two years later Harper Collins snapped him up and wasted no time in introducing him to the wider world.

Of course the flipside of this book being the massive success that it is is that now publishers are far more open to finding and publishing self-published picture books.  The successful ones that already have a following, anyway.  And because Pete is such a 21st century hep cat, I suspect that his rise has as much to do with his YouTube video as the book itself.  Can another picture book say the same?  I think not.

• Want some Pete art of your own?  Find it
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#30 Owl Moon by Jane Yolen (1987)
55 points

When I read this book, I can feel and hear the snow crunching under my feet. I can actually hear the silence. – Susan Lang

It seems appropriate that just as the weather warms up for summer we take one last plunge into winter at its deepest and darkest.  This wintery tale marks the appearance of yet another Caldecott Award winner on the list and there’s nothing better for evoking the chills brought on both by nocturnal cold, and the awe inspiring appearance of meticulously rendered wildlife.

The plot as described by Publishers Weekly reads, “A girl and her father go owling on a moonlit winter night near the farm where they live. Bundled tight in wool clothes, they trudge through snow ‘whiter than the milk in a cereal bowl’; here and there, hidden in ink-blue shadows, a fox, raccoon, fieldmouse and deer watch them pass. An air of expectancy builds as Pa imitates the Great Horned Owl’s call once without answer, then again. From out of the darkness ‘an echo/ came threading its way/ through the trees.’ Schoenherr’s watercolor washes depict a New England few readers see: the bold stare of a nocturnal owl, a bird’s-eye view of a farmhouse.”

In the Norton Anthology of Children’s Literature Ms. Yolen is described as, “one of today’s most prolific and experimental writers of fairy tales.”  Because the entry is primarily concentrating on her work as it applies to the story The Lady and the Merman.  So it’s funny that while Norton’s mentions her various books, it doesn’t whisper a word about the fact that her book Owl Moon won a Caldecott.  It reads instead that, “She writes with grace and painstaking care to create tales that evoke the atmosphere of long ago and other worlds, employing metaphors and symbols in unusual combinations that produce new associations.”  And then here today we instead find picture book that is realism incarnate.

In fact, in Cullinan and Galda’s Literature and the  Child (5th edition) the book gives Owl Moon a close look specifically in a section called “Contemporary Realistic Fiction”.  Says the title, “The story is deceptively simple, for poetic prose evokes powerful images of the cold, dark winter night, the silence, the beauty of the woods white with snow, and the adventure that child and father undertake.”  And in terms of the Caldecott winning illustrations Cullinan and Galda go on to say, “His [Schoenherr’s] pictures correspond to what the text is saying, but they also transcend it.  His use of light and white space is extraordinary, making the dark spruce woods and winter night seem lit from within.  In most of the pictures the father and child are small, insignificant intruders in the forest of towering trees and pristine snow.”

Does the name “Schoenherr” sound oddly familiar to you?  Do you have the vague feeling that you’ve seen it on books recently, though perhaps not with the first name “John”?  Perhaps you are familiar with a talented young man by the name of Ian Schoenherr then.  An artist of uncommon talents, Ian is the son of John and has put out such laudable books as Cat & Mouse and (now on bookstore shelves) the unbelievably useful to children’s librarians Read It, Don’t Eat It.

In terms of Owl Moon, Jane’s website allows you to see the

#31 Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey (1948)
54 points

It’s hard to pick a favorite McCloskey, but I think of this one every time I pick blueberries. – Jessalyn Gale

Honestly, I think my favorite part as a kid was just staring at the endpapers with the scene of Sal and her mom in the kitchen, noticing all the details. This is a hangover favorite from childhood that I really can’t otherwise think to say what’s so great about it except that I always loved it. - Amy M. Weir

I was speaking with a fellow librarian the other day about a classic children’s book (which shall remain nameless) that both of us missed in our youth.  Our response to it was not overwhelmingly positive, and we figured that had to be because we “missed it”.  Now I don’t remember reading Blueberries for Sal as a kid, but I don’t think it’s possible to “miss” the appeal of this one.  Brooke and Amy have already pinpointed the two major reasons why:  Blueberry picking is the ultimate child sport, and any author/illustrator who can make blue ink continually compelling must be some kind of genius.  I’ve heard theories that speculate that part of the charm of this book also lies in the boy/girl nature of Sal.  She/He walks about in those gender neutral overalls and long, but not too long, hair.  We associate the name “Sal” with “Sally”, but it could just as easily be a nickname for “Salvador” and the like.  It’s a theory anyway.

The Amazon summary of the plot reads, “Kuplink, kuplank, kuplunk go the blueberries into the pail of a little girl named Sal who–try as she might–just can’t seem to pick as fast as she eats. Robert McCloskey’s classic is a magical tale of the irrepressible curiosity–not to mention appetite–of youth. Sal and her mother set off in search of blueberries for the winter at the same time as a mother bear and her cub. A quiet comedy of errors ensues when the young ones wander off and absentmindedly trail the wrong mothers.”

Minders of Make-Believe has a section on McCloskey that sums the man up pretty well.  “As May Massee’s protege and the son-in-law of Newbery Medal winner Ruth Sawyer, McCloskey, his genuinely modest midwestern manner notwithstanding, was as close to being picture-book royalty as it was possible to come.” And Children’s Literature: A Reader’s History from Aesop to Harry Potter by Seth Lerer offers this consideration of the book: “Blueberries for Sal shows how we select the sweetness in the world and how adventure – little Sal confronted with a baby bear – can resolve itself through taste.”  Lerer then goes on to say that, in a sense, this book had a sequel.  “In One Morning in Maine, Sal has grown to an age when she can lose a tooth – and lose it she does, as she and her family go clam-digging.”  Huh.  I had no idea.  I’ve even read and enjoyed One Morning in Maine, but the name “Sal” never quite struck my notice.

Blueberries for Sal made the news not too long ago when it was discovered that book, against all logic and reason, was out of print.  In the April 9, 2009 Publishers Weekly article The Return of ‘Blueberries for Sal’, however, the entire situation was explained and resolved.  You see the McCloskey estate wanted to renegotiate the rights and when an immediate solution wasn’t availabl

#32 The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton (1942)
53 points

I love this story and sometimes can’t get through it without crying. - Laurie Zaepfel

I just loved this story when I was younger. I still do. You learn about the seasons, pollution, the difference between rural and urban. And the artwork – love it! – Alexandra Eichel

because it’s an economically designed tale of change, entropy, and survival. – Philip Nel

Phil may be on to something with that. I feel that the status of Virginia Lee Burton’s two best known picture books, this and Mike Mulligan’s Steam Shovel, have experienced a change in status over the years. Mike Mulligan could be considered far more of a household name. After all he plays a big role in one of the Ramona books (or, at the very least, his personal needs do). The last time we conducted this poll, though, he ended up at #40 with The Little House at #25. Now . . . well, I’ll give it to you straight. Only three people voted for Mike this time around and none of them called him #1.  I mean, if you had sat me down, placed The Little House and Mike Mulligan in front of me side-by-side, and asked me to pick which one of the two would make it into the Top 25, the answer would have been Mike all that way.  I love me my Little House but certainly when I was growing up Mr. Mulligan had the most sway.  After all, 100 Best Books for Children says that of all her books, Ms. Burton’s, “greatest contribution to the American landscape remains the saga of Mary Anne and Mike Mulligan.”  Not anymore, it seems.  Certainly when one takes into account the current housing crises and the various dilapidated and forgotten homes around the country, the tale of The Little House has a lot more to say to us than that of a guy building a basement.  Plus it has the extra added advantage of featuring a house that’s just as depressed about its situation as its occupants would be.

The plot from my review: “Long ago a little house was built in the country. The man who built her decided that this house, special as it was, could never be bought and sold. Instead, he planned on leaving it to his children, his children’s children, and his children’s children’s children. Etc. The house was pleased with the arrangement. It watched the seasons go by. It watched the children that played in it grow up and move away. It even watched the changing fashions and modes of transportation. Horse and buggies one day, automobiles the next. This is all well and good until a new asphalt road appears. Suddenly it’s a heckuva lot easier for people to reach the area in which the little house lives. Things get faster and suddenly the little house is surrounded by tenement houses. Then there are trolley cars (oh the trolley cars). Next comes elevated trains, and subways, and (worst of all) gigantic skyscrapers on either side of the now seriously dilapidated little house. One day, a descendent of the original owner sees the house and inquires after it. Since it turns out she owns it (I guess… the book’s a little shaky on the legal aspects of ownership at this point) the house is summarily picked up by movers and taken to the country she loves so much. Happy house. Happy family. The end.”

Just prior to writing Th