Maybe a whale

The unnamed narrator's grandfather has died, and her mother is taking her on a trip he had planned for them, to the ocean to see his beloved whales. The girl doesn't want to go, but she packs up her stuffed whale and draws whales in the condensation on the car window while the pair drives to the coast. They transfer to a kayak and paddle to the island, where they camp. Illustrations with watery backgrounds blur the line between sea and sky, showing mother and daughter in fog and rain, at twilight and dawn -- in liminal moments that echo their grief. There is wonder here too. A stunning spread shows the kayak from below, glowing moon jellies surrounding the boat and the light of the sky filtering down deep. Night falls, and the girl is disappointed that they still haven't seen any whales, but they build a fire, boil noodles and toast marshmallows, and discover bioluminescence when they rinse their hands in the salt water. "Why are there more stars here? Is grandpa up there?" They're just getting ready to sleep when they hear the "pushhhhh" of humpbacks surfacing. They can't see them, but they can hear them, a metaphor for all we can't see that is still present in our lives. A tender testament to love and loss. Adrienne L. PettinelliNovember/December 2023 p.64 (c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Maybe a search for a whale might uncover a way to heal and remember. A mother and child--both beige-skinned, dark-haired, and presenting as Asian--look through items left by Grandpa, presumably after his death, that provide a route to follow to search for whales. The child is skeptical at Mom's assurance that "the trip will do us good," but the two of them set out in a bright yellow kayak on emerald water, where a giant unseen whale glides silently beneath them. They see moon jellies, seals, and bioluminescence--but no whales. At night, mother and child look up into a star-filled sky, and the little one wonders if whales can see stars. Mom tells the child that Grandpa loved whales, too, and that he will be in their hearts forever, and together, they work through their grief, finding companionship in nature. An offshore sound announces that whales are in fact nearby, blowing spray into the air. Pendreigh's evocative text alternates between narration and the protagonist's inner thoughts, offering excellent conversation starters for helping children deal with loss. Smith's immersive illustrations, which at times have heavy lines, nevertheless make use of dramatic perspectives, imaginative compositions, and a luminous palette of deep blues, greens, purples, and yellows to lend emotional depth to the tale. (This book was reviewed digitally.) A gentle yet profound story about a shared journey to peace. (Picture book. 3-7) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.