The best nonfiction children’s picture books that break boundaries

Picture book biographies need to narrow their focus on a subject, and I love the way the author achieves this. She could have written about Van Gogh’s life in general, but she used the refrain “Vincent can’t sleep” to describe his childhood, schooling, boring jobs, and finally becoming an artist. Insomnia led to his most well-known painting, “The Starry Night.”

I also admire how gently she portrayed his mental illness by emphasizing his quest to find the colors of the night. Lean prose contrasts neatly with Van Gogh’s free-wheeling brushstrokes, richly illuminated by Grandpré’s sweeping illustrations.

Sometimes, the biggest stories are best told in the fewest words. I felt the pull of a subject I knew nothing about by the author’s lyrical use of first-person voice. The river of dust, literally a band of desert dust that travels from Africa to South America, tells its own story.

The friendly, almost wistful tone begins with the ancient continent of Pangea and how the two continents were once one. Like the dust that blows on its long journey, I felt transported across grasslands and rivers, deep into the ocean, and into the Amazon jungles to replenish soil. I never imagined dust would be so interesting.

The story left me wanting to know more, and pages of well-researched back matter answered my questions. Mello’s landscapes swirl with urgency, adding texture to the spare prose. 

There are many books about Thoreau and Walden, even for kids. But Frederic Tudor? Who is he, and what is his relation to Thoreau? Curiosity led me to pick up this book; the scope of this little-known historical event kept me turning pages. The two characters are introduced in parallel prose poems. A pond, the third character, connects those different people.

I was entranced by the story of the naturalist and the businessman, both influenced by Walden Pond. While Thoreau wrote notes in his journal, Tudor chopped frozen blocks of ice to ship to India. The author balanced the contrasts between the men with a light hand, backdropped by the seasons. Detailed watercolor and pencil art carry the scale of the account from Thoreau’s tiny cabin to Tudor’s ship crossing the equator. This is nonfiction that transcends mere information—a masterful performance.

Like most kids, I loved watching Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, especially the fantastic balloons. Even more, I loved reading about the man who invented those balloons in this spirited book.

Tony Sarg was a childhood inventor who later made marionettes that moved so lifelike audiences were entranced. I followed his story from wooden puppets to helium balloons that could move like puppets through Sweet’s incredible art. Part cartoon illustrations, part assemblages of Sweet’s handmade puppets and toys created in Sarg’s can-do vein and peppered with fanciful fonts, this book urged me to grab clay, crayons, colored pencils, fabric, paints, and play. Nonfiction never looked so much fun.

My astronomer kid self adored this book. My adult self was astonished by this accomplished work of nonfiction. Dual narratives take the stage on each page. First, the star that is trying so hard to be born, and second, the girl Cecilia Payne who tries so hard to understand the natural world. As the star goes through various phases, so does Cecilia, who longs to make scientific discoveries. Brilliantly told, the stories of the star and Cecilia parallel each other. I found myself going back and forth between them, marveling at inset pencil and walnut ink illustrations that never overpowered the text.

As a girl, I, too, loved natural science and wished this book had been published in my day. I might have been prepared to carve my way into a man’s world, as Cecilia did. Back matter fills in how stars are born—Cecilia’s discovery—plus a timeline of her amazing life.