American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults
Future Reflections Special Issue on Braille REVIEW
by Janice Milusich
Illustrated by Chris Raschka
Reviewed by Barbara Cheadle
From the Editor: After stepping down as founding president of the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children (NOPBC) and founding editor of Future Reflections, Barbara Cheadle launched a new career as a librarian. She has a special interest in children’s books that depict blind characters.
I Hear the Snow, I Smell the Sea
by Janice Milusich
Illustrated by Chris Raschka
Penguin/Random House, 2025
ISBN: 9780593308172
I love children’s books. A well written, beautifully and appropriately illustrated book is a joy for both a child and the lucky adult or older sibling who gets to introduce the book to a child. Occasionally I am asked to review a storybook that portrays blindness or low vision. Each time I agree, I find myself needing first to go back and review the basic elements that answer the question: What should a children’s storybook do?
Should a storybook be entertaining? Always. A book that does not capture the imagination or spark curiosity will not be read. Should it educate? Nice, but not wholly necessary. There’s nothing wrong with a book that simply sparks delight. Should the book entice children to be curious about the world around them? Children are born with an inherent curiosity. Well written books will channel, reward, and nurture that innate drive to discover, to explore, to ask “Why?” Should a storybook promote an interest in literacy? This will naturally be a side benefit of the book that entertains, delights, rewards, and nurtures curiosity, and perhaps educates as well.
Beyond these basics, the storybook that portrays a character with a disability such as blindness has at least the obligation to “do no harm.” That is, it must not perpetuate inaccurate, damaging stereotypes. Preferably, it should advance knowledge and acceptance of the character with the disability as part of the human family spectrum—neither superior nor inferior to others, and certainly neither to be pitied nor excessively admired.
This lovely book, illustrated by Caldecott Award-winning artist Chris Raschka, hits the mark on all the basic elements of a good, even outstanding, storybook featuring a character with a disability (blindness). Named in 2025 as a Schneider Award Honor Book, author and teacher of visually-impaired preschoolers Janice Milusich takes the reader on a sensory journey through the four seasons.
The journey is narrated in the first person by Neveah, who begins by explaining to the reader that “Where I live, seasons change. I know because my fingers and toes, my ears, my mouth and nose all tell me so.” (This is the first subtle clue in the text that Neveah is blind. The text never states it directly.) Accompanied by Mommy, Ney-Ney describes the “Scruunnch!” of snow under her boots in winter and the smell of hyacinths in spring. The “warm hug” of the sun and the feel of sand under her toes tell her that summer has come. The seasons come full cycle when she describes the joy of raking dried autumn leaves into piles to dive into with a “Plop!” and the anticipation she feels, “Mmmmmm!” when she catches “a whiff of something sweet” that her neighbor, Mr. Martin, must be baking.
The lyrical text and stunning illustrations work together seamlessly to celebrate the senses, even those not immediately accessible. The illustrations have the appearance of crayon on a textured surface. My fingers itched with the desire to run them across the surface and feel the slightly bumpy, waxy, crumbling texture of crayon. The subtle use of vibrant colors conveys the chill of winter (blue), the fresh newness of spring (pink), the heat of summer (yellow), and the mellow smells of apple and cinnamon of autumn (orange).
I do need to warn the reader that the particularly observant child may well ask you why, despite the title of the book, Neveah never actually says anything about smelling the sea. I don’t know where or how this disconnect between title and text occurred, but a blind friend (an adult, not a child) with whom I shared the book, noticed it immediately. So, to be forewarned is to be prepared.
Although Mommy seems a bit more omnipresent than I think necessary, neither does she hover. The illustrations and text show Neveah working independently as she rolls big balls in the snow to create the snowman. She rakes up the fallen autumn leaves into a pile and, despite Mommy’s caution, shows no fear, only curiosity, about a buzzing bee.
I do think the author missed both an opportunity to educate about blindness and to further celebrate the senses in the spring scenario. Instead of holding Mommy’s hand, I imagine the sounds and textures Neveah would experience if she were wielding her long white cane as she walks side by side with Mommy down the gravel path to find the hyacinths. Nevertheless, this is an outstanding storybook, and it deserves a place on library shelves everywhere.