It used to be “reference” meant boring. Today’s picture-filled volumes are
often light on text and look like fun — but that doesn’t mean they’re missing the facts.
The graphics aren’t mere decoration — instead, they’re part of the information
being conveyed. In the most successful volumes, the text and pictures work together
to convey knowledge.

The just-revised, 864-page Macmillan Dictionary for Children is a
comprehensive edition with an easy-to-read layout. Photos and
illustrations — 1,100 in all — enhance the text by illustrating some of the
definitions. The volume has several special features, including language
note boxes, word history boxes and spelling tips. And a highlighted line
warns the reader about homonyms, where applicable (for example, the
definitions for baron and barren each tell the reader that the other
“sound-alike word” exists). ($16.95; for ages 8 to 12, Simon & Schuster
Books for Young Readers)

The Kingfisher Children’s Encyclopedia is a solid introduction to
information-gathering that will teach kids how to use an encyclopedia
without inducing reference-phobia. It would be difficult to crib a report
from the short nuggets of information presented in this alphabetically
arranged volume, but there are 24 special feature sections designed to help
with school projects. Those sections cover a range of topics, such as aircraft,
insects and American history. ($32.95; for ages 8 to 14, Kingfisher Books)

Visually stunning and chock-full of facts, The Eyewitness Atlas of the World is
in keeping with the tradition of DK Inc. (formerly Dorling Kindersley), the company
largely responsible for creating a market for visual
children’s reference books. One look at the oversized, 160-page atlas
will show you why. Small photographs of the countries supplement
the maps to convey a sense of what the places actually look like. For example,
the spread on China and Mongolia includes photographs of the Great Wall,
the Mongolian Steppes and the Kashi market along with a standard map.
($24.95; for ages 9 and up, DK Inc.)

The World Almanac for Kids 1998 is an
eclectic collection of facts and more facts. The source of the questions above
(and the answers that follow), the almanac is both a handy guide and an
entertaining source of information, including puzzles and games.
The 320-page 1998 edition includes Web site addresses where relevant. And now,
the answers you’ve been waiting for: the San Diego Zoo, with 900 species, wins;
the electric battery was invented in 1800 and the Humber Bridge in England
is the longest bridge. ($8.95 paperback, $16.95 hardcover; for ages 8 to
12, World Almanac Books)

By the time the boy in the song encounters a smiling teacher who
recognizes that there are more than two colors in the world, it’s too
late for him. He’s morphed into a dutiful, red-and-green-flower-drawing
robot. Over-earnest as the Chapin song is (and it’s so didactic that it
almost makes you want to draw a couple of red flowers), he does have a
point. Of course, everyone knows that children’s creativity should be
encouraged, that self-expression through art is healthy and that you
should give your kids plenty of crayons, even if they eat most of them.

But how does a parent encourage artistic creativity? It’s difficult to
tell a child to go off and paint or draw or color because eventually,
assigning a time or making art part of a schedule can make it seem like
homework. On the other hand, you want your house to be a place where
there’s time for art …

Feeling the anxiety yet? The finger being pointed at you for not
creating the right environment to allow your children to achieve their
potential? There are, of course, plenty of art toys and games and
products on the market. Some of them are great products, and some of
them capitalize on parental art anxiety. For instance, Disney’s Magic
Artist is a new CD-ROM that feeds off your insecurities as an art
facilitator. “Anyone Can Be Creative” the box announces. Yes,
anyone can be creative — as long as that creativity involves Disney
characters.

The Disney CD-ROM lets you put various characters into different
costumes, poses and backgrounds. For example, you can send Mickey to
outer space. There are several drawing tools to choose from that go
beyond the standard crayon-marker-paintbrush category to include toothbrush, whipped cream and confetti patterns.

The press kit that arrived with the sample CD-ROM conveniently included
several possible ways to write about this product. One approach: the
computer as the new canvas for the ’90s. Throw away that coloring book,
click that mouse! A second suggestion: Get over fear of the blank page with
the help of ready-made elements, such as backgrounds, that will make art
more comforting, less intimidating. OK … The third idea: All
those “tools” necessary for creativity used to be hard to come by, until
now, when those inaccessible art products are conveniently packaged on
one handy CD-ROM for the whole family! Is a good box of crayons that
hard to find? ($35-$40; for ages 6 and up for Windows 95/Macintosh,
from Disney Interactive, 800-900-9234)

We’re not saying that buying this product is akin to selling your soul
to the devil; we’re saying that it’s not about creating art, it’s about
playing around on the computer with a graphics program. If you want your
kids to get more familiar with the computer, and if you don’t mind them
dreaming about Donald Duck, then this is a great product. But if you
want to encourage artistic expression, paper and a pencil would be
better. However, the 129-piece Giant Artist Case would be much, much
better. It has everything a kid could want, all laid out in nifty rows.
There are markers, colored pencils, oil pastels, crayons and
watercolors arranged in a portable carrying case. You provide
the paper — and the encouragement. ($23; for ages 5 and up, item MC130
from Battat, 800-247-6144)

Cooper is the author of the acclaimed five-book series “The Dark
Is Rising,” which is among the best fantasy series ever written. These
tales of good vs. evil are filled with magic, mystery and darkness as, on
his 11th birthday, Will Stanton, the seventh son of a seventh son, learns
that he is the last of the Old Ones — immortals dedicated to defeating the
Dark. These epic battles are waged in distant times and places, so Will’s
life becomes split between everyday activities as a normal boy in England
and otherworldly activities as an Old One. The good characters, including
Will, are honorable (as well as interesting) and the evil characters
are terrifying. ($19.75 for boxed set of 5 paperbacks; for ages 8 to 12,
from Aladdin Paperbacks)

I have read the “Dark Is Rising” series both as a child and an adult,
and never for a moment has my suspension of disbelief been broken. I have
dreaded turning the last page and returning to the mundane world; I have
never questioned the veracity of the worlds that Cooper creates.

Her new novel, “The Boggart and the Monster,” is a sequel to “The Boggart,” which
was published in 1993. Both books feature Cooper’s seamless blend of the
fantastic and the real as they relate the tales of a boggart — a kind of
spirit, “a very ancient, mischievous thing … Born of magic as old as the
rocks and the waves” — in a Scottish castle and his very large cousin
Nessie, who just so happens to inhabit a loch. These books are more
lighthearted than “The Dark Is Rising” series, but are just as full of
wonder and magic.

Boggarts (pronounced with a short “o,” as in “dog”) are often invisible,
but they are shape-shifters. They can do pretty much whatever they want,
except pass through closed doors with iron locks. Above all, boggarts love
to play tricks. They’ll eat the food off your plate, sew your pants’ legs
together while you’re asleep, pull the dog’s tail — harmless fun.
However, in “The Boggart,” the boggart of Scotland’s Castle Keep
gets stuck in a roll-top desk with an iron lock and is inadvertently
transported to Canada, where he wreaks havoc like getting into traffic
light wires and making them go haywire. Eventually, savvy children figure
out how to send him back to Scotland, without the clueless adults catching
on. ($3.95; for ages 8 to 12, from Aladdin Paperbacks)

“The Boggart and the Monster,” which takes place two years later,
features the same appealing characters from “The Boggart.” Here, Castle
Keep’s boggart and the children rescue another boggart, aka the Loch Ness
monster, from a very un-boggartlike future of loneliness and
despair. There’s plenty of sly humor here — Nessie, in addition to being
lonely, is insecure, and has to be cajoled and encouraged to change
shape from the monstrous creature he’s been for centuries into a more
maneuverable form. Time is of the essence, because a gang of determined
scientists is on the rampage, determined to capture, catalog and define
the monster once and for all. Without giving away the ending,
I will say that, in Cooper’s books, wisdom and magic always triumph over
greed and stupidity. ($16; for ages 8 to 12, from Margaret K. McElderry
Books)

Adults intrigued with Cooper’s fiction may want to further explore her
work in “Dreams and Wishes: Essays on Writing for Children,”
published in 1996 ($18; Margaret K. McElderry Books). The collection
includes this description of her state of mind when writing, a description
that’s very similar to reading her work: “I exist in a state of continual
astonishment … And I am always overcome by wonder, and a kind
of unfocused gratitude, when I arrive.”

My parents never read “Goodnight Moon” to me and until yesterday, when,
at the urging of my therapist and with the help of my support group, I
telephoned to confront them about this, neither of them had heard of
the book. “Goodnight Spoon”? my mother asked. “Why would you tell a
spoon goodnight?” “Honey, just tell her we DID read it to her. She
doesn’t remember,” I heard my father whispering in the background. “I DO
remember,” I said sorrowfully. “I wanted you to read ‘Goodnight Moon’ to
me and you DIDN’T. And now it’s TOO LATE.”

When I reported this conversation to my support group today, they made a
collective decision to end each session with a reading of “Goodnight Moon,”
which has touched me deeply. Perhaps, finally, I will heal my wounded and
deprived inner child. At last, I will be able to fall asleep at night with
a sense of peace and completion. I will join my generation, and the one
before mine, and the one after mine, as we all recite those precious words,
“Goodnight stars Goodnight air Goodnight noises everywhere.”

Well, I feel better now.

If you haven’t read “Goodnight Moon” to your children, it’s not too late.
There are now some 26 permutations of the book to choose from. HarperCollins has
published several variations to commemorate the book’s 50th
anniversary this year. There’s the pop-up version, the board-book-with-plush-animal version, the coming-in-September version with slippers
and the special edition with a retrospective on the book’s popularity and
information on Wise Brown and Hurd. In case there are those among you, dear
readers, who are sensing a marketing opportunity (after all, anything so
popular can support a spoof), it’s already been done. Sean Kelly’s “Boom
Bay Moon,” published in 1993 by Dell and now out of print, bid goodnight
to, among other things, a dehumidifier and a Swiss au pair wearing a
Walkman.

Speculating as to the source of “Goodnight Moon’s” perennial appeal is
nearly heresy, but I’ll do it anyway. Kids derive comfort from the
repetition, the rhythm and the ritual of the words. In addition, the
word choice is simple enough that kids can follow along way before they
learn to read. The real inspiration for “Goodnight Moon,” though, hints at
something darker: In his Margaret Wise Brown biography, “Awakened by the
Moon,” Leonard S. Marcus writes that the author fought off depression by
lying in bed in the morning, “surveying the room around her to the last
detail. One by one she noted every particular of the room and the scene out
her window that gave her pleasure. Then — grasping for straws or counting
her blessings — she wrote them all down in a list.”

While the repetition is soothing for children, it can take a toll on even the most tolerant of parents. For those who are either a) sick of “Goodnight Moon” and want to
throw it out the window, or b) sick of “Goodnight Moon” and already
have thrown it out the window, there are a slew of great new picture
books. Below are a few that jumped out of the pile:

Sing a Song of Circus by Ward Schumaker is narrated by two
balloons, one yellow and one orange, as they float through the book’s
action-packed pages. In addition to serving as tour guides to the
circus, the balloons are willing victims of inflated imaginations, as
they speculate on various ways to step into the acts. “We could really
help the strong man!” they conjecture, and the illustration shows a
smiling balloon on either side of the barbell. The large print and the
simple, short sentences make this an excellent choice for preschoolers
and for children just learning to read. ($13; for ages 3 to 8, from
Harcourt Brace)

Just Another Ordinary Day by Rod Clement is a hilarious tribute
to the powers of imagination. The story follows Amanda, who is presumably
just another ordinary girl, through the course of her ordinary day, which
is greatly enhanced by her extraordinary imagination. The jokes are all in
Clement’s illustrations — the text is the straight man here. For
example, we’re told that “she was never very hungry in the mornings. All
she could eat was one boiled egg and two pieces of toast.” Meanwhile,
the illustration depicts an egg that’s about 12 times the size of her
head. Every page is like this. Amanda gets a ride to school with Mrs.
Ellsworth, the oldest person on the block. She’s — you guessed it — a
dinosaur (in a dress and bonnet and pearls), and her license plate reads
“T-REX.” I could go on explaining the jokes on every page, but I have a
feeling that your children will do this at length. I won’t even write
about the new girl at school who “told them stories about her home in a
land far away,” except to say that she has three eyeballs, and each one
is at the end of a long green stalk. ($14.95; for ages 3 to 8, from
HarperCollins)

A lot of children’s books try to invoke magic, and a significant number
of them don’t succeed, whether through clumsiness or heavy-handedness
or just the mere emphasis on how MAGICAL it all is. That’s happily not
the case in Wolfram Hanel’s The Gold at the End of the Rainbow,
illustrated by Loek Koopmans and translated by Anthea Bell, where the
magic is so quick and so understated that when you finish the book you
may need to re-read it to see whether what you think happened is
actually the case.

At the beginning of the tale, Brendan and his grandfather are eating
potatoes, and Grandpa bemoans their lack of food. “If only we had a pig –
and a few chickens,” he says. Then he sighs, “We might as well wish for the
gold at the end of the rainbow.” Brendan’s antennae shoot up immediately,
as he demands to learn all about the pot of gold that’s on the island at the
end of the rainbow, guarded by a leprechaun. The next rainbow prompts
Brendan to insist that they make the trip to the end of the rainbow, and
his grandfather goes along with it, contending all the while that it’s just
a fairy tale. Well, they almost find the gold, and they do find the
leprechaun, but they let him go, concluding that it wouldn’t have been
right to take the gold, anyway. As in all satisfying children’s stories,
their goodness is rewarded. ($15.95; for ages 5 to 9, from North-South Books)

Speaking of leprechauns and their ilk, those perennial favorites have
an entire book devoted just to them. Little Folk: Stories from Around
the World by Paul Robert Walker, illustrated by James Bernardin, is a
collection of eight folk tales collected from different cultures.
Walker, who is also the author of “Giants!” has done a masterful job in
both selecting and retelling the tales. He also did extensive research
and includes a section of information about each tale’s culture and
story-telling traditions. Some of these tales, such as “Rumpelstiltskin,”
will be familiar. Others, like the Zulu tale “People of the Rock,” will most
likely be new to both parents and children. This 80-page book is a few
steps more advanced than standard picture books — it’s text-heavy, with
only two illustrations per tale, making it a good choice for children who
are moving away from picture books and into chapter books. ($17; for ages 8
to 12, from Harcourt
Brace)

My parents never read “Goodnight Moon” to me and until yesterday, when,
at the urging of my therapist and with the help of my support group, I
telephoned to confront them about this, neither of them had heard of
the book. “Goodnight Spoon”? my mother asked. “Why would you tell a
spoon goodnight?” “Honey, just tell her we DID read it to her. She
doesn’t remember,” I heard my father whispering in the background. “I DO
remember,” I said sorrowfully. “I wanted you to read ‘Goodnight Moon’ to
me and you DIDN’T. And now it’s TOO LATE.”

When I reported this conversation to my support group today, they made a
collective decision to end each session with a reading of “Goodnight Moon,”
which has touched me deeply. Perhaps, finally, I will heal my wounded and
deprived inner child. At last, I will be able to fall asleep at night with
a sense of peace and completion. I will join my generation, and the one
before mine, and the one after mine, as we all recite those precious words,
“Goodnight stars Goodnight air Goodnight noises everywhere.”

Well, I feel better now.

If you haven’t read “Goodnight Moon” to your children, it’s not too late.
There are now some 26 permutations of the book to choose from. HarperCollins has
published several variations to commemorate the book’s 50th
anniversary this year. There’s the pop-up version, the board-book-with-plush-animal version, the coming-in-September version with slippers
and the special edition with a retrospective on the book’s popularity and
information on Wise Brown and Hurd. In case there are those among you, dear
readers, who are sensing a marketing opportunity (after all, anything so
popular can support a spoof), it’s already been done. Sean Kelly’s “Boom
Bay Moon,” published in 1993 by Dell and now out of print, bid goodnight
to, among other things, a dehumidifier and a Swiss au pair wearing a
Walkman.

Speculating as to the source of “Goodnight Moon’s” perennial appeal is
nearly heresy, but I’ll do it anyway. Kids derive comfort from the
repetition, the rhythm and the ritual of the words. In addition, the
word choice is simple enough that kids can follow along way before they
learn to read. The real inspiration for “Goodnight Moon,” though, hints at
something darker: In his Margaret Wise Brown biography, “Awakened by the
Moon,” Leonard S. Marcus writes that the author fought off depression by
lying in bed in the morning, “surveying the room around her to the last
detail. One by one she noted every particular of the room and the scene out
her window that gave her pleasure. Then — grasping for straws or counting
her blessings — she wrote them all down in a list.”

While the repetition is soothing for children, it can take a toll on even the most tolerant of parents. For those who are either a) sick of “Goodnight Moon” and want to
throw it out the window, or b) sick of “Goodnight Moon” and already
have thrown it out the window, there are a slew of great new picture
books. Below are a few that jumped out of the pile:

Sing a Song of Circus by Ward Schumaker is narrated by two
balloons, one yellow and one orange, as they float through the book’s
action-packed pages. In addition to serving as tour guides to the
circus, the balloons are willing victims of inflated imaginations, as
they speculate on various ways to step into the acts. “We could really
help the strong man!” they conjecture, and the illustration shows a
smiling balloon on either side of the barbell. The large print and the
simple, short sentences make this an excellent choice for preschoolers
and for children just learning to read. ($13; for ages 3 to 8, from
Harcourt Brace)

Just Another Ordinary Day by Rod Clement is a hilarious tribute
to the powers of imagination. The story follows Amanda, who is presumably
just another ordinary girl, through the course of her ordinary day, which
is greatly enhanced by her extraordinary imagination. The jokes are all in
Clement’s illustrations — the text is the straight man here. For
example, we’re told that “she was never very hungry in the mornings. All
she could eat was one boiled egg and two pieces of toast.” Meanwhile,
the illustration depicts an egg that’s about 12 times the size of her
head. Every page is like this. Amanda gets a ride to school with Mrs.
Ellsworth, the oldest person on the block. She’s — you guessed it — a
dinosaur (in a dress and bonnet and pearls), and her license plate reads
“T-REX.” I could go on explaining the jokes on every page, but I have a
feeling that your children will do this at length. I won’t even write
about the new girl at school who “told them stories about her home in a
land far away,” except to say that she has three eyeballs, and each one
is at the end of a long green stalk. ($14.95; for ages 3 to 8, from
HarperCollins)

A lot of children’s books try to invoke magic, and a significant number
of them don’t succeed, whether through clumsiness or heavy-handedness
or just the mere emphasis on how MAGICAL it all is. That’s happily not
the case in Wolfram Hanel’s The Gold at the End of the Rainbow,
illustrated by Loek Koopmans and translated by Anthea Bell, where the
magic is so quick and so understated that when you finish the book you
may need to re-read it to see whether what you think happened is
actually the case.

At the beginning of the tale, Brendan and his grandfather are eating
potatoes, and Grandpa bemoans their lack of food. “If only we had a pig –
and a few chickens,” he says. Then he sighs, “We might as well wish for the
gold at the end of the rainbow.” Brendan’s antennae shoot up immediately,
as he demands to learn all about the pot of gold that’s on the island at the
end of the rainbow, guarded by a leprechaun. The next rainbow prompts
Brendan to insist that they make the trip to the end of the rainbow, and
his grandfather goes along with it, contending all the while that it’s just
a fairy tale. Well, they almost find the gold, and they do find the
leprechaun, but they let him go, concluding that it wouldn’t have been
right to take the gold, anyway. As in all satisfying children’s stories,
their goodness is rewarded. ($15.95; for ages 5 to 9, from North-South Books)

Speaking of leprechauns and their ilk, those perennial favorites have
an entire book devoted just to them. Little Folk: Stories from Around
the World by Paul Robert Walker, illustrated by James Bernardin, is a
collection of eight folk tales collected from different cultures.
Walker, who is also the author of “Giants!” has done a masterful job in
both selecting and retelling the tales. He also did extensive research
and includes a section of information about each tale’s culture and
story-telling traditions. Some of these tales, such as “Rumpelstiltskin,”
will be familiar. Others, like the Zulu tale “People of the Rock,” will most
likely be new to both parents and children. This 80-page book is a few
steps more advanced than standard picture books — it’s text-heavy, with
only two illustrations per tale, making it a good choice for children who
are moving away from picture books and into chapter books. ($17; for ages 8
to 12, from Harcourt
Brace)