AND THEY WALK ON

A child grapples with the strange largeness of grief.

Where do our loved ones go when they walk on, and what does that mean for those who miss them? This poignant meditation on loss centers on the household that a grandmother leaves behind as life goes on. As the family packs up her home, each chore offers an opportunity to ponder what she’s doing elsewhere, earthly tasks made magnificent by the wonders of an unknowable beyond—perhaps she waters a garden, growing titanic sequoias or herbaceous jungles; perhaps she’s fishing, nabbing a dinnertime catch with the help of a friendly whale. All the while, her grandchild moves through their previously shared space, navigating death’s contradictions and confronting tensions between the permanence of loss and the material proof of life interrupted. The narrative’s conclusion leaves readers with a vital reminder: Mortality unifies humanity, but remembrance and the momentum that it inspires suggest an afterlife without end. The text’s treatment of grief is masterful and accessible, exploring the experience of loss with affirmative nuance, while captivating visuals emphasize the permeability between life and what lies ahead; the windy tendrils done in rainbow colors are especially affecting. Maillard (Seminole Nation) and Mexican illustrator López hail from cultures with distinct death traditions, each of which is touched on individually in informational backmatter. The protagonists are brown-skinned, and references to both creators’ heritages are woven into the artwork. Supporting characters are racially diverse.

Stunning and essential.