13 books like Brambly Hedge

Like millions of others, I grieved when the magnificent Calvin & Hobbes cartoon strip came to an end. So, this last published collection was one to savour.

I loved how Bill Watterson would draw snowy scenes, bringing them to life with a few ragged strokes of India ink, and there are few better examples than the last strip he ever created, which closes this book.

“Everything familiar has disappeared! The world looks brand new!… It’s like having a big sheet of white paper to draw on!” declares Hobbes (that connection with an un-started picture’s potential is one reason I find snow so visually compelling).

“A day full of possibilities!” replies Calvin. “It’s a magical world, Hobbes, ol’ buddy…”

The final huge panel sees them launch into the expanse of white on their sled, whose tracks trace the topography with glorious minimalism: “… Let’s go exploring!”

What an end to ten… show more.

This story is a great exploration of FOMO for young children.

Two best friends are split apart when one moves a long way away. Herman the bear feels increasingly left behind and obsolete when he reads Henry the racoon’s correspondence (actual letters pasted into the book) describing new friends in his sunny new home. Herman feels too miserable to write back; when he finally does, deep snow has set in and the post office has closed for the winter.

So he sets off into the swirling blizzard to deliver the letter himself—up steep cliffs and frozen waterfalls, over creaking crevices and the tallest mountains, all gorgeously painted by Percival in a perfect balance of three-dimensionality and looseness. At the end, the pictures do the talking: Herman and Henry are still best friends.

One reason I love snow so much is the way it muffles the world, making everything soft and fuzzy around the edges.

The essence of that feeling is distilled perfectly in Lewis’s beautifully-lit pastel and pencil illustrations, squeezing so much colour into every inch—even of “white” snow.

It’s a lovely story about a little boy taking responsibility for his action. I love a children’s book with a final illustration that undercuts the sentimentality of any preceding message, and this does that hilariously.  

Golem’s illustrations are certainly not detailed in the same way as the others on this list; the imagery in this retelling of the Golem of Prague story is composed entirely of colorful cut paper, layered and woven into bold, dynamic scenes. Whereas the first four books I’ve recommended invite hours of poring over worldbuilding detail and density of information, Golem compels readers to marvel over the construction of its illustrations. How does the golem pierce through the spidery paper web of paper smoke? How are the sheets stacked to imply depth and shadow? Is this seriously all paper?! 

Richard Scarry books are nostalgic gold. There’s so much going on on every page, and I remember it all like it was yesterday (which it probably was, because half of the illustrations are on Twitter as memes).

The little vignettes cover all the traditional kids’ book themes—firemen, policemen, ship voyages, road construction—but then go further. Everyone is a Worker talks about how money flows through the economy, and Wood & How We Use It discusses a supply chain, from raw materials to production and manufacturing to transportation (albeit in grossly unrealistic trucks). 

James Gurney originally intended this to be a children’s book, but strong interest by adult readers changed his mind, and the three subsequent tales were developed as young-and-old-alike books. The stories are textually brief, but that lack is more than compensated by Gurney’s many illustrations, which tell much of the story visually.

The artwork initially attracted me, but I also found the reading quite engaging. Central to the story are father-and-son castaways Arthur and Will Denison, storm-tossed onto an uncharted south-sea island where dinosaurs still hold sway.

I found the notion of intelligent, peaceful, talking dinosaurs to be conceptually engaging and very unlike Jurassic Park’s huge, uncommunicative, and superlatively dangerous beasts.

I will remain forever astonished at the epic feat of world-building in The Arrival. It thoroughly pulls me into an immersive experience where I am learning along with the main character how to navigate the new world into which he has immigrated. As he learns, we learn. I find myself so emotionally involved with his success in his hopeful new reality. The art is amazingly detailed and conveys the complex and richly visual world, yet also sets a strong emotional tone that brings us into the action.

Shepard’s roughly-hatched illustrations are a symbiotic match for the scruffy charm and humour of Milne’s stories.

Only a couple of chapters feature snow, but they loom so large in my imagination—Pooh and Piglet following their own footsteps in search of the legendary Heffalump; and building Eeyore’s new house at Pooh Corner to shelter him from the snowstorm (unwittingly using Eeyore’s existing house as their source of wood).

As Eeyore gets buried in the snow, I can feel the cold wind with each economical scratch of Shepherd’s pen nib.

Want to feel like a little kid again? This book, or any of the Brambly Hedge books by Jill Barklem, are the epitome of romanticizing your life!

I can remember reading the Brambly Hedge books as a child and falling in love with all of the beautiful scenes. These books present what so many people are craving right now, which is a cozy place to escape to.

As a child (and now) I loved the intricate interiors with historical details and the magical aspect of mice doing mundane tasks like baking or cleaning in little fluffy dresses. Now that I am older, I find that I really love reading these stories because they remind me to slow down and that it’s okay to stop for a moment to enjoy a cup of tea settled in by a warm fire.

Now that the cottagecore movement is becoming more well-known, it is often associated with slow living. Before it became a trend, it began as a way for members of the LGBTQIA+ and Black communities to embrace a softer lifestyle that was so often not an option for them.

One of the main aspects of cottagecore is to live more in tune with nature and the seasons, or at the very least, to remind yourself to stop and notice. I have always loved this about the cottagecore aesthetic, and I think that The Wheel of the Year is the perfect book to learn more about living seasonally and where our modern seasonal traditions come from.

This book showcases that there is magic in everything around you, and it’s mainly geared toward young readers who want to learn more about how to follow seasonal rhythms, but adults can certainly still learn from… show more.