MY GRAN

Boon’s first book is replete with vibrant paints that swoosh, crinkle, and glow across pages in which a young girl sings a paean to her grandmother. “My gran’s a chocolate in bowls gran/an ‘any more rolls?’ gran . . . a warm gran, a honey gran/an ever so funny gran”—a gran who lives among bright pottery bowls, grows wonderful things to eat, and stomps through her own grapes to make wine; she drives a big yellow truck, and is, in every way, a child’s dream. The rollicking, festive rhythm makes the final line, “I love her,” superfluous, but joy bursts forth from these pages, in the form of poppies and sunflowers, striped laundry on the line, and juicy tomatoes on the table. (Picture book. 3-8)