Illustrated by Jim LaMarche
A wish made on a paper star one chilly Christmas Eve long ago leads to magical sequence of events, in this beautifully illustrated picture book.
Recalling back to childhood, an aging carpenter tells of how an act of kindness in 1931 inspired him late life to pay that generosity forward.
That year, the carpenter, then a boy named Henry, and his parents were at their lowest. His father had lost his job, and their house had deteriorated into a drafty shack.
It was the Depression and like many families, jobs were sparse and people had to eke out a living however they could.
So the night before Christmas, Henry and his father cut down trees in the woods, then drove an hour to New York City to try to sell them.
Pulling off a city street, they saw a construction crew and asked if they could share their lot to sell the trees.
The crew could see from their worn faces and clothes that Henry and his father were down on their luck, and welcomed them in.
Soon, the workers were also hurrying over to help unload trees, unaware that the next thing they would unload would change Henry's life forever.
At the end of the day, with a good trickle of sales behind them, Henry's father showed his gratitude in the best way he could. He offered the workers their tallest tree to set out on the lot.
Together, Henry and his father, and the crew, cobbled together things to decorate it with, cranberries, empty tin cans and newspaper star that Henry folded.
Before hanging up the star, Henry closed his eyes and made a wish that his family would one day have a warm house to live in.
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Written & illustrated by Brock Cole
In this rollicking read-aloud, a cozy family of six attempts to room with a turkey while they plump him up for Christmas dinner.
But as feathers begin to fly, it's not clear who's getting the better of whom.
One afternoon Pa returns home from market with a brilliant way to save pennies for Christmas dinner.
He'll fatten up a turkey poult and keep it in a wooden box by the stove of their tenement apartment.
But with five children, himself and his wife packed inside, the family's flat is already feeling crowded.
And much to Ma's chagrin, the turkey doesn't like to keep to one spot, and soon, he's also much too big for his box.
Suddenly Alfred, their turkey, must be shifted somewhere else, but where do you put a boisterous young fowl?
It's up to Pa to find that somewhere else, but locating an empty spot in the tenement will require a bit of creativity.
The problem is, being clever isn't always enough -- every place Pa moves Alfred proves disastrous.
On the fire escape, neighbors up and down get a waft of him, and when he's strung out on the clothesline inside a crate, they get showered by droppings as they walk outside.
Poor widow Schumacher from upstairs can barely stand the clucking and smell, or so she says. She comes down to their flat three times a day just to complain.
And now with Christmas almost here, it's getting harder to think of Alfred as the centerpiece of Christmas dinner.
Do they really want to butcher their friend? And if they don't, will dinner still be just as special?
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Written & illustrated by Tomi Ungerer
Phaidon Press, 2011
$12.95, ages 4-8, 32 pages
Four little pigs brighten the rooms of a cold, dilapidated house with the spirit of Christmas, in this charming reissue of a German classic.
When each of the Mellops brothers surprises their papa with a Christmas tree, they find they've all had the same idea and they burst into tears. Oh no, "what a to-do."
Four trees are just too many. And it wouldn't be fair to pick one brother's tree over another, so Mr. Mellops suggests that the boys look for people in need to give them to.
The problem is everyone they ask already has a tree -- at the orphanage, hospital, prison and military barracks.
Poor Casimir, Isidor, Felix and Ferdinand, they really want to help someone and as the lug their trees back home, their ears wilt with disappointment.
But just as these well-meaning fellows resign to throw away their trees, they see a girl pig quietly sobbing on the sidewalk. Could this be the person they've been looking for?
The girl pig explains that she lives with her ailing grandma, then leads them back to her rickety house.
The mood inside is forlorn. Her grandma lays in bed: her eyes, dark scribbles, her hooves, dangling over the edge of the bed frame. Plaster has peeled off walls exposing brick and a mouse scrambles across a chipped floor board.
In other rooms of the same house, the brothers find an old soldier shivering in a wheelchair next to an empty wood stove, two scared children huddled in a corner, and an old pig grimacing by a photograph of a woman who's no longer with him.
All at once, the boys' heads flood with ideas to cheer up the lodgers in the house. Every room will have a tree, they shout. Then they dash home to gather things sorely needed in each of the four rooms.
Isidor pulls clothes and blankets out of their armoir, Felix hammers open their "people" banks to buy gifts and medicine, Casimir chops wood to heat the rooms and Ferdinand fills a wheelbarrow with food.
Soon the house is happy and warm, and every tree is just where it's needed, cheering at a bedside and brightening rooms. And the Mellops boys? Well they're hear
Written & illustrated by Jane Ray
$16.99, ages 3-6, $16.99
In this beguiling edition of The Twelve Days of Christmas, a suitor woos his love next door with a series of gifts that reflect his deepening affection.
The suitor, an elegant man with twinkling eyes, watches his gifts arrive from his window until the last one is delivered, and he feels brave enough to a walk over and declare his love.
As the first of 12 gifts come, tiny puffs of snow float down outside a row of color-washed houses by a canal. A postman knocks at flat #4 and the woman, her hair swept back with a ribbon, answers the door and gasps with delight.
There on the step is a potted pear tree, each branch perfectly positioned as if espaliered, and a partridge with mottled feathers perched on a limb. A tag dangles from another branch addressed, "To My True Love X."
Every day greater numbers of things arrive on her stoop, each more whimsical and grand than the last.
On the fifth day, five children in hats and mittens run by the woman's door, rolling golden hoola-hoops at their sides, and on the tenth day, ten lords-a-leaping, dressed in pinstriped pants and top hats, shuffle about on the roof swinging their arms.
Jane Ray's pictures are sumptuous, delicately ornate and folkloric, with gilted stars, sleek birds that glide into scenes and perch, and charming details, subtly adorning the page.
When the nine ladies dancing arrive on a boat in the canal, shimmying in fur-lined coats, a banner curves between masts that's as playful as the man's glances. Hung among triangles of fabric are socks and pantaloons.
Every spread captures the magic of young, new love. Houses have a rosy luminous glow that ties in with the blushing cheeks of the woman, and the air sparkles with possibility.
Ray even flirts a little with readers. On the first spread, s
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