The Book Faire: Children's Literature for Grownups
Oct 21, 2026 · 21 min · 11 segments
In this news-focused episode of The Book Faire Podcast, host Anthony analyzes major policy shifts and structural audits in public education. We lead with a landmark report from the Texas Freedom to…
But first, let's start this week by looking at new releases, starting with I Wonder If I'm Growing, illustrated by John Klassen, with words by Rafi.
I wonder if I'm growing, sighs a pale-skinned child, across spreads that reveal only the crown of their tussle-haired head and the top half of their eyes.
As the pages turn, the child peers over a footboard out a window and into a bathroom mirror, while a shifting sun and moon alongside the tune's lyrics hint at the often-dragging speed of childhood change.
The refrain's second round sees a subtle typographical shift as the line, now broken in half, stacks vertically, and similarly rendered text elsewhere gives the appearance of straining upward.
This patient build is what makes the payoff land.
When the youth heads back into the bathroom to wash their hands, they find, hey, I can reach the tap now for the very first time today.
The attendant image reveals more of the child's face in the mirror, depicting most of a winning smile that radiates across the remaining pages.
Anchored solidly in a child's experience, it's an earnest, pitch-perfect look at the time it can take to reach new developmental heights.
Next is We Used to Be Friends by Macy Campbell and illustrated by Amy Sekuro.
Campbell and Sekuro reckon with the end of a childhood friendship in this emotionally intelligent picture book.
Following the break, the brown-skinned child narrator feels enough pain to avoid even walking past the house of their former bestie, who is shown with pale skin.
Emotional text recalls the friend's difficult dynamic.
It was like a game I have where you keep stacking the pieces on top of each other, the narrator says, as an image of a stormy tower of playthings fills the spread.
Eventually, the whole thing topples and the game is over.
According to the narrator's dad, sometimes friendships are like that.
They just end.
As school encounters with the one-time pal continue and the fear of having no other friendships fades, the two former friends carve out a tentative agreement.
Mixed-media vignettes ground the action in the pared-down realism of home and school, giving each pang of loss and step toward a new sense of self-room to land.
It's an honest and sympathetic companion for anyone learning that some painful breaks don't need fixing.
Only time.
Next is Brittle Magic by Kate O'Sanessy.
A girl's quest to unlock her magical ability may hold the key to resolving a family tragedy in Newberry Honoree Osanasi's bracing, emotionally powerful story of grief and healing.
But first, let's start this week by looking at new releases, starting with I Wonder If I'm Growing, illustrated by John Klassen, with words by Rafi.
I wonder if I'm growing, sighs a pale-skinned child, across spreads that reveal only the crown of their tussle-haired head and the top half of their eyes.
As the pages turn, the child peers over a footboard out a window and into a bathroom mirror, while a shifting sun and moon alongside the tune's lyrics hint at the often-dragging speed of childhood change.
The refrain's second round sees a subtle typographical shift as the line, now broken in half, stacks vertically, and similarly rendered text elsewhere gives the appearance of straining upward.
This patient build is what makes the payoff land.
When the youth heads back into the bathroom to wash their hands, they find, hey, I can reach the tap now for the very first time today.
The attendant image reveals more of the child's face in the mirror, depicting most of a winning smile that radiates across the remaining pages.
Anchored solidly in a child's experience, it's an earnest, pitch-perfect look at the time it can take to reach new developmental heights.
Next is We Used to Be Friends by Macy Campbell and illustrated by Amy Sekuro.
Campbell and Sekuro reckon with the end of a childhood friendship in this emotionally intelligent picture book.
Following the break, the brown-skinned child narrator feels enough pain to avoid even walking past the house of their former bestie, who is shown with pale skin.
Emotional text recalls the friend's difficult dynamic.
It was like a game I have where you keep stacking the pieces on top of each other, the narrator says, as an image of a stormy tower of playthings fills the spread.
Eventually, the whole thing topples and the game is over.
According to the narrator's dad, sometimes friendships are like that.
They just end.
As school encounters with the one-time pal continue and the fear of having no other friendships fades, the two former friends carve out a tentative agreement.
Mixed-media vignettes ground the action in the pared-down realism of home and school, giving each pang of loss and step toward a new sense of self-room to land.
It's an honest and sympathetic companion for anyone learning that some painful breaks don't need fixing.
Only time.
Next is Brittle Magic by Kate O'Sanessy.
A girl's quest to unlock her magical ability may hold the key to resolving a family tragedy in Newberry Honoree Osanasi's bracing, emotionally powerful story of grief and healing.
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