Contemporary picture books have now attained such a level of sophistication that children can no longer be considered their exclusive audience. Even those young readers endowed with the sharpest of visual and literary perceptions are unlikely to appreciate the full complexities of the genre. Increasingly, such appreciation demands some measure of understanding of - among much else - graphic design, aesthetics, art history and pictorial and textual allusion. But it is this multiplicity of appeal which constitutes the picture book's fascination. Here, more than in any other area of children's literature, there is at least the possibility of something for everyone, irrespective of age.
Peter Sis's Madlenka (Allen & Unwin, £9.99 in UK) is, on the surface, about a little girl so excited by her discovery of a wobbly tooth that she rushes to tell her neighbours the news. But such an account says nothing of Madlenka's environment (a New York apartment) or of the multicultural diversity of humanity she encounters. In Sis's narrative and artwork her journey translates into moments of wonderful, magical insight. Imagine what happens when your German neighbour, Ms Grimm, aided by a cleverly placed peephole, opens her particular window on the world! This is a triumph of text, picture and design.
The popular device of story within story is employed to striking effect in Allan Ahlberg's The Snail House (Walker, £8.99 in UK), illustrated by Gillian Tyler. Michael, Hannah and their baby brother are treated by Grandma to a story involving a similar family trio, shrinking to such diminutiveness that they can take up residence on a snail's back. This is the prelude to their three adventures, narrated by Grandma in the measured, reflective idiom of exemplary storytelling. Ahlberg's moves between "real" and "imagined" domains are models of balance and control; Tyler's delicate paintings of the natural world add further enrichment.
By contrast, Mandy Sutcliffe's cityscape illustrations for Jenny Koralek's Night Ride to Nanna's (Walker, £9.99 in UK) are large-scale and full of detailed drama, while the storyline is straightforwardly linear. We follow this regular car journey to grandmother's primarily through the eyes of Amy, a young girl relishing every moment of the trip she makes with Mum, Dad and baby brother Sam. The dominant notes are of anticipation, of growing excitement, of childhood delight in the nocturnal sights, sounds and smells of a busy urban environment. The artwork speaks of comfort, reassurance, belonging and love.
Those who associate Michael Rosen with fun and mischief will not be disappointed by Rover (Bloomsbury, £4.99 in UK), or by Neal Layton's exuberantly splodgy illustrations. The underlying joke is based on role reversal. Accordingly, the "Rover" of the title is not what we might expect, for here the dog becomes the owner, the child becomes the pet and we are regaled with a canine view of human behaviour in all its apparent absurdity. It is Rosen's ability to present these observations in simple, poker-faced style that creates the book's joyous humour: the laughter is left to the reader.
The motif of the child gifted with a degree of insight not granted to the adult world, popular in fairy tale, appears in fresh and amusing guise in Bruce Robinson's The Obvious Elephant (Bloomsbury, £9.99 in UK), illustrated by Sophie Windham. While his fellow townspeople speculate on the identity and function of the strange creature who has arrived in their main square, only little Eric - "known locally for telling Tall Stories" - can see it for what it is; childhood knowing takes precedence over adult ignorance. Windham's rich full-colour pictures, throbbing with life, give the story the evocative feel of legend.
Joe, the child hero of Martin Waddell's Night, Night, Cuddly Bear (Walker, £9.99 in UK), is considerably younger than Eric, but no less resourceful when dealing with the adults around him. Each night before going to bed he involves them in his "cuddly bear" game, in which Daddy, brother and sister provide their inventive explanations for the apparent disappearance of his toy. The truth, however, about its whereabouts and about the identity of the "best-ever-bear-finder" is altogether more homely. Penny Dale's artwork is equally successful in capturing the warm ordinariness of family life and its occasional moments of imaginative release.
For those adults who feel, after having shared some of these books with their young friends, that they deserve a treat for themselves, Edward Ardizonne's Sketches for Friends (John Murray, £10.99 in UK) will suit admirably. This is an elegantly presented selection of the drawings with which, over 40 years, Ardizonne embellished his letters to family and friends. As in the illustrations for his children's books, the art emphasis is on the deceptively casual technique of cross-hatching. This is here put to marvellous use in conveying the artist's idiosyncratic views of person and place, characterised throughout by wit and not a little mischief.
Robert Dunbar lectures in English in the Church of Ireland College of Education, Dublin