Hana Hashimoto, Sixth Violin

Hana practices violin every day for a talent show. Her grandfather Ojiichan, a former orchestral violinist, is her musical inspiration. When she finally steps onto the stage, she gives an, ahem, memorable performance. Leng's illustrations are genial and lighthearted; the final one shows musical notes traveling out of Hana's bedroom window to Ojiichan. A completely charming, refreshingly unsentimental tale of intergenerational family love.

Despite her brothers' teasing, little Hana plans to play her violin at the talent show. True, she's only a beginner, but Hana is a stalwart and determined young lady, practicing every day and performing for any audience that will listen, including a framed picture of her grandfather. Ojiichan is her musical inspiration, a former orchestral violinist who, during Hana's recent visit to Japan, played his instrument for her all through the day. In the genial, lighthearted illustrations, musical notes drift upstairs to wake Hana "as gently as sunshine"; waft through the "indigo evenings"; and cover her "like a blanket" as Ojiichan plays a lullaby. His violin also makes sounds--crickets, raindrops--and melodies that seem to encourage fireflies to dance. When Hana finally steps onto the talent-show stage (on a double-page spread that captures how long her walk to the microphone feels and the immensity of both stage and beyond), she is terrified. But she remembers her grandfather's advice to do her best and proceeds to give an, ahem, memorable performance: Hana's violin mimics the sounds of a ("squawky") mother crow, a (yowling) cat, bees, cows, mice, frogs, and more. "And that," she declares, "is how I play the violin." The final illustration shows musical notes traveling out her bedroom window to Ojiichan. And that, folks, is how you tell a completely charming yet refreshingly unsentimental tale of an intergenerational bond of love. jennifer m. brabander