“I wake in deep dark. So sleepy. My dog, Jesse, slumbers beside me, and my mom drives us farther into the black night.” So begins a child’s account of a typical day with Mom, who drives an 18-wheeler for a living. Their day includes a truck stop (a bathroom break, followed by breakfast to go), a game of I Spy from the cab, a rest-stop lunch, Mom’s safety check of the rig’s tires, some singing as the miles tick by, and another truck stop (an eat-in dinner this time). To readers, this will seem like a party, although Hundal keeps things real by having the narrator acknowledge feelings of boredom at one point. Though apparently about 6 or 7, the protagonist doesn’t have a young child’s voice, and Hundal’s occasional attempts at kidspeak can feel forced (“First stop: the bathroom. Fast, ’cuz this one’s kind of gross”). Regardless, readers should cotton to the novelty of the book’s milieu. Poon’s mellow-vibe art, which captures the day’s shifting light as it dusts the scenic views, delivers cool details, like the rig’s involved-looking dashboard and the cozy-cramped sleeper cab, which accommodates the narrator, Mom, Jesse, and several stuffies just fine. Mom and child are tan-skinned with dark hair and eyes.

The opening tableau in Wall Street Journal writer Higgins’ narrative is a federal courtroom, Covid-19 era, in which Apple CEO Tim Cook faces a carefully mounted challenge by Tim Sweeney, publisher of the wildly popular video game Fortnite. Sweeney charged that Apple was a monopolist, an argument, Higgins writes, that had some merit: “With the advent of the iPhone, in order for other businesses to gain access to its marketplace, Apple had set up a drawbridge for all of the companies that wanted to make money through it.” That drawbridge was largely monetary: Apple took 30% of revenues for the sale of every app, “akin to a tax for breathing their air,” protecting its practice inside a “Walled Garden” that other entrepreneurs longed to storm. It didn’t help that throughout the app sales ecosystem, favorable rates were being extended to some app makers but not others, with Sweeney stating, “We’re all in for a prolonged battle if Apple tries to keep their monopoly and 30% by cutting backroom deals with big publishers to keep them quiet.” To complicate matters, after the Capitol insurrection of January 6, 2021, Apple removed the conservative social media app Parler, Amazon dropped Parler from its servers, and Facebook and Twitter shut down Donald Trump’s account; then tech magnate Elon Musk entered the fray, pushing the argument that the Big Four were not only monopolizing markets but also controlling free speech, and in doing so he was “able to do something that Tim Sweeney…failed to do: frame Apple’s power in terms that resonated beyond the business.” Though, as Higgins chronicles, Apple survived most legal challenges, the debate continues as to whether the company and other giants are true monopolies—and just how much control over speech they exert.

Having discovered in Forget Me Not (2024) that Jens Andersen, the principal of their boarding school, Rosenholm Academy, murdered former student Trine in the ’80s, the girls believed that Trine’s spirit was at peace. But Trine wants more—a confession. Victoria decides to tell the truth about Jens at her parents’ party, which will be attended by powerful mages. But before she can speak, Jens addresses the crowd himself, painting an alluring picture of a world in which mages have greater power. Bravely rising to speak after him, Victoria collapses, seemingly due to a seizure, while Jens mutters a spell. The girls believe he’s acquired greater powers since stealing Chamomile’s victory stone, and now he’s exerting his influence. Victoria, Chamomile, and Kirstine elect not to go back to school and instead organize a resistance movement. Malou, who’s remained at Rosenholm, isn’t answering Chamomile’s texts, bringing tension to the formerly close-knit group. Clever plot twists keep readers on their toes as a battle of wits, dark magic, and the ghosts of murdered girls unfolds in this translated Danish import. Romance is present, but the beating heart of the story is the exploration of friendship, courage, persistence, and morality. Kappel Jensen gives the timeless good vs. evil theme originality and fresh flourishes through the well-developed setting, atmosphere, and relationships.

A diving hawk on the hunt for a mouse loses one of its beautiful feathers. When it lands on the ground, a squirrel snatches it up and uses it in her nest. The wind shakes it free, sending it high above the treetops until it lands in a woman’s hat. And so it goes, flying and floating until a girl spots the feather during her beach walk. She takes it home and uses it as a part of her handmade dream catcher, just the right permanent home for the wandering feather. An author’s note describes the cultural significance of the dream catcher to Ojibwe and other Indigenous cultures. Thanks to the feather’s constant relocation, the story bounces along with it from place to place, keeping the pace moving and readers curious. The illustrations nicely capture the feather’s sense of motion, from swirls as it falls to a tremble as it blows. The images are outlined in thick, black lines and make use of different layouts to great effect. The girl is drawn with light tan skin and long black hair in a single braid. The ending is lovely and unexpected; the feather’s final resting place is one of reverence and peace.

Monono is a heart-shaped crayon whose colorful swirls incorporate the full spectrum of the rainbow. Being of a different shape from the other crayons (“Monono is one of a kind”), Monono is stored on the far side of the classroom’s art shelf and is regularly overlooked by the students. Worse, Monono is shunned by the other, conventional crayons, all of whom have their established niches. Monono’s colors start to drain away, leeched by loneliness and sorrow. Then, a new student arrives in class: a dark-skinned girl named Chiro. Chiro, like Monono, is a loner without a group…until they’re paired by default and Chiro starts drawing marvelous rainbow pictures. Suddenly, Monono is in demand, and both Chiro and Monono find themselves noticed by their peers. Bailey narrates Monono’s story in straightforward, non-rhyming prose, presented in an easily legible, faux-handwritten font upon speckled-blue backdrops reflective of Monono’s growing sadness. Marlon’s digital illustrations capture the bright bustle of a racially diverse school classroom and present a carefree existence for the crayons (the exclusion of Chiro and Monono are attributed more to their newness/otherness and an unthinking insularity than to actively malicious intent). The book ends with a discussion guide to promote empathy and connection.