Earlier this fall, National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature Mac Barnett hosted the Carle Honors in New York City. These awards recognize individuals and organizations that create and promote picture books—an art form, Barnett noted, that is often unfairly dismissed as sweet yet simple. He lauded the picture book as instead “one of our great literary forms.” Borrowing from theater (picture books are typically read aloud), dance (a gifted storyteller uses the body to convey meaning when reading aloud), and oral traditions, these tales are, when done right, truly captivating.

Still unconvinced? Read on for some highlights from our list of the Best Picture Books of 2025, tales that will persuade skeptics of the beauty—and importance—of this art form.

What evils lurk in the hearts of fish? Author Neil Sharpson and illustrator Dan Santat know, and in Don’t Trust Fish (Dial, April 8), they tell all. An initially unseen narrator explains why the titular creatures are so shifty (“Some live in salt water. Some live in fresh water. Some lay eggs. Some don’t”). The humor of Sharpson’s slyly arch text is magnified by Santat’s artwork, jam-packed with visual gags; a twist ending brings this raucous read-aloud to a pleasing close.

If a picture book is a dance between words and art, then Matthew Burgess’ Fireworks (Clarion/HarperCollins, May 13) is the literary equivalent of a perfectly executed pirouette. Two siblings spend a summer day roaming the city before taking in fireworks on the roof. Burgess’ onomatopoeic prose explodes with a joie de vivre matched by Cátia Chien’s richly saturated images; author and illustrator depict a slew of urban summer pleasures, from eating a juicy watermelon to romping through a fire hydrant’s refreshing spray.

Arriving as censors continue to wage war on books that offer authentic, unwhitewashed views of the past, Nikkolas Smith’s The History of We (Kokila, May 20) feels especially crucial. Smith pairs spellbinding verse with startlingly intimate paintings as he pays tribute to humanity’s beginnings on the African continent. Backmatter explains that each of his images—whether depicting early people’s cave paintings, musical innovations, or scientific breakthroughs—makes reference to strides made by actual cultures.

Those who think picture books are all sweetness and light would do well to read Cecilia Heikkilä’s The Slightly Spooky Tale of Fox and Mole, translated from Swedish by Polly Lawson (Floris, August 5). In this tale that speaks to the emotional complexity of a child’s psyche, well-meaning but self-centered Mole learns a lesson in friendship when Fox becomes fed up with his pal’s thoughtlessness. Heikkilä’s images are positively unnerving as Fox undergoes a bizarre transformation one evening. Slightly spooky? Absolutely, but this one’s all heart, too.

“Everyone makes mistakes” is a commonly expressed sentiment in kid lit, but few books have conveyed it as deftly as X. Fang’s Broken (Tundra Books, October 14). Mei Mei, a child of Chinese descent, accidentally shatters one of Ama’s (Grandmother’s) cherished cups, but the blame falls on Mimi the cat. Initially relieved, Mei Mei is soon wracked by guilt—a turbulent emotional response captured in a dramatic montage. Balancing visual humor with tenderness, Fang has crafted a tale that ultimately reassures while provoking genuine giggles.

Mahnaz Dar is a young readers’ editor.