Starring a dopily earnest, bug-eyed pole seeking a purpose in life, Colbert’s tongue-in-cheek debut picture book was born out of a segment with Maurice Sendak on the Colbert Report, in which the late author/illustrator decried the talentless individuals (particularly celebrities) creating children’s books. The result: a patriotic parody of saccharine, over-earnest picture books. Colbert’s deadpan humor traipses into the tactless as he riffs on singsong verse (“I maypoled for a month,/ Learning pagans aren’t my type.../ I didn’t cut it as a totem—/ Me no smoke-um the peace pipe”), and the digital illustrations, unskilled by design, mock amateurish art. Pole’s pursuits underscore that Colbert’s adult fans will be the book’s primary audience—like Go the F**k to Sleep, this is a not-for-children “children’s book” (Pole considers becoming a “Gallup poll” and interns as a stripper pole before becoming an American flagpole). Still, Colbert affirms his place as a master of the kind of satire that, if you aren’t paying attention, you might just miss is a joke. Agent: Dan Strone, Trident Media Group. (May)

Part of the charm of this mischievous story from Puttock (Little Lost Cowboy) is that readers know more than the main characters, a childless deer couple that don’t know how to deal with the baby they find on their doorstep. Mr. and Mrs. Deer can’t understand why the baby—which has blue fur, a pair of taped-on antlers, and a lot of teeth—keeps roaring. Their friends try to help, but disappear whenever they are left alone with the baby (“How very peculiar!” say the deer). Shireen is a smart choice to illustrate, given the similarly wicked humor that propelled her Good Little Wolf (2011); her mixed-media art plays up both the baby’s maniacal tendencies and the other animals’ cluelessness. Characters such as Uncle Duncan (a purple owl) and Auntie Agnes (a blue rabbit) get prim accessories like a beret and scarf—accessories that are all that remain of said characters until the baby burps them up and runs off. The repetitive structure and subversive humor should make this a storytime favorite. Ages 3–up. Agent: Jodie Marsh, United Agents. Illustrator’s agent: Penny Holroyde, the Caroline Sheldon Literary Agency. (July)

The Klise sisters (Little Rabbit and the Meanest Mother on Earth) have once again hit the nail on the head: some relatives—okay, old relatives—fill kids with dread. Take Larry Lamb’s Grammy Lamby: she’s loud, boring, and clueless, sewing pink polka-dot pajamas for Larry, bellowing about “fabulous” adventures that just the two of them can take, and embarrassing him with her triple squeeze secret handshake. “He even said in his head, ‘Please (squeeze). Go (squeeze). Away (squeeze).’ ” Worst of all, Larry feels completely alone in his misery (his dislike of Grammy Lamby is his “big secret”). M. Sarah Klise’s assertively girly rendering style makes a terrific visual foil for the beleaguered hero’s humiliation and horror. When a big storm hits, Larry discovers that Grammy Lamby is actually a can-do dynamo, capable of rebuilding Larry’s damaged home and spearheading cleanup efforts for the entire valley. Most embarrassing relatives don’t get the opportunity to reveal another side of themselves as Grammy Lamby does, but this empathetic story may persuade readers that there’s a real human being behind that unfortunate gift or too-tight hug. Ages 4–8. (July)

This underdog story—underpig, actually—suggests that while practice doesn’t always make perfect, it does make good entertainment. Enthusiastic aspiring Olympian Boomer believes, “If you practice and try your best, you can do anything!” Unfortunately, Boomer’s attempt to win one different sporting event after another at the Animal Olympics fails; he is generally able to keep his chins up, but when his cannonball dive bombs, Boomer loses it in a rage-filled tantrum that occupies a full spread. A JumboTron vote of confidence from his mother gives Boomer newfound confidence, however, and in a red, sparkly homemade gymnastics outfit, Boomer is on fire in the final event. No, really. Jamieson (Bea Rocks the Flock) satirizes sports coverage by way of a mean-spirited, cliché-spouting announcer named Mr. Hamstring, who is intent on tearing Boomer down. The acrylic artwork is consistently lively and expressive, playing well with the often-deadpan text (“Boomer took the loss pretty well,” writes Jamieson as the pig is seen wildly sobbing in his track uniform). A humorous romp just in time for the London Olympics. Ages 5–8. Agent: Paul Rodeen, Rodeen Literary Management. (July)

This adaptation of the 2005 adult title Zamba: The True Story of the Greatest Lion That Ever Lived offers a remarkable animal story and beautifully showcases Lewin’s skill at portraying realistic, expressive animals. Dominated by earth tones and dark blues, Lewin’s watercolor portraits of Zamba at times call to mind Jerry Pinkney’s images of another memorable cat in The Lion and the Mouse. The story opens in Zambia, where a woman in a safari camp rescues an orphaned lion cub and names him Zamba. When the cub grows too wild to live safely among humans, his keeper contacts animal behaviorist Helfer, who brings the lion to his animal sanctuary in California. In emotive third-person narrative, Helfer (who previously collaborated with Lewin on The World’s Greatest Elephant) describes training Zamba to be less aggressive—he eventually becomes sufficiently gentle to star in Hollywood films. Zamba’s heroism emerges in the book’s final episode, in which he saves Helfer and the sanctuary animals during a flash flood. Scenes of Zamba interacting with children and other animals have a Peaceable Kingdom quality that will delight animal lovers. Ages 5–8. (July)

“Mile by mile, pigs motor west/ Brick by brick, pigs build a house,/ and piece by piece, it becomes a home.” In a porcine version of a 1930s-era migration, a family of pigs in period clothing arrives in a rural community and settles in. Writing in rhythmic free verse that recalls the “inch by inch, row by row” children’s song, Gal (Into the Outdoors) creates gaily colored spreads using digital collage, then fills them with friendly, hard-working pigs. The pigs harvest their first crop, then celebrate in a distinctly piggy way: in the book’s best moment, plump, rosy pigs strip down to lacy underthings and tighty-whities and race to the gigantic mudhole (“Layer by layer, pigs shed their clothes... and one by one, pigs cannonball!”). A spread shows the whole clan floating and snorkeling; in a sly A.A. Milne reference, a small pig clutches a toy Piglet (other literary pig references are tucked into the story for eagle-eyed readers). Comforting and conflict-free, the book’s sense of predictability makes it promising bedtime material. Ages 5–9. Agent: Morgan Gaynin Inc. (July)

B-list superheroes try to rustle up work in this collection of poems that, unfortunately, isn’t as entertaining as its premise suggests. Readers first hear from disaster-prone Blunder Woman, who “began this agency/ for superheroes just like me:/ outclassed, outranked, unsung,/ standing on the second rung.” Other heroes (several of whom make repeat appearances throughout) include Weathergirl, who literally creates tempests in teapots; the Verminator, an inch-high eradicator of rodents and other pests; and the Bulk, a sentimental giant who drowns villains in his tears. Though the concept has potential, Singer’s (A Stick Is an Excellent Thing) heroes and their accompanying poems come across as flat: “I’m the Bulk. Oh, yes, indeed./ I’m so fond of darling creatures I can cuddle./ I’m the Bulk. Foul friends, take heed/ or you’ll wind up floating in a giant puddle.” Jones (Stuff) delivers comedy with a surer hand, keeping things interesting with a mix of comics-style panels and faux advertisements, but it isn’t enough to enliven this outing. Ages 6–9. Agent: Brenda Bowen, Sanford J. Greenburger Associates. Illustrator’s agent: Edward Necarsulmer IV, McIntosh & Otis. (July)

With King Arthur’s DNA swirling in his wiry little body, it’s only natural that six-year-old Henry Alfred Grummorson would want to go on a monster-battling quest. The thing is, every monster he encounters—be it a terrible dragon, a dreaded cyclops, or the “most to be feared” leviathan—seems to have the DNA of Ferdinand the Bull. Ordered to “unsheathe your claws and let us have ado!” an elaborately feathered griffin instead offers a game of chess. “I prefer black. Is that ok?” it asks eagerly. Although the wrap-up is too pat, considering what precedes it, debut author Kraegel proves he’s a talent to be reckoned with. He has a Monty Pythonesque sense of language, humor, pacing, and character—the text’s mixture of bombastic and deadpan deliveries makes for a stirring read-aloud. This fine sense of the epically absurd also animates Kraegel’s rococo watercolor and ink renderings: in his hands, a dragon’s scales coalesce into an intricate mosaic, a tree is a swirl of mazelike lines, and the sea becomes a tangled mass of blue ribbons. Ages 5–8. Agent: Ronnie Herman, the Herman Agency. (July)

A wisecracking dog narrates this off-the-cuff look at the “secret life” of his species. Goodman (See How They Run) opens with a brief overview of dogs’ rapport with early humans and their subsequent roles (honed through breeding) as hunters, herders, haulers, and guide dogs. Noting “we take this best friend business very seriously,” the canine narrator then offers an anecdotal discussion of dogs’ sharp hearing, keen sense of smell, variable eyesight (“we’re not the best at seeing details”), and methods of communication, including barking, tail wagging, and body language. Providing solid likenesses of a range of breeds, Slonim’s (10 Turkeys in the Road) cartoons suit the upbeat, comedic tone of the text (“We pee on every rock and tree for good reason. Think of that telephone pole as a newspaper or pee-mail”). Additional information from “a human point of view” closes out the book and expands on topics covered earlier (“The section of a dog’s brain devoted to smell is forty times bigger than in human ones”). An agreeable and enlightening jumble of facts and humor. Ages 6–9. (July)

False assumptions underlie the comedy of this buoyant launch to Fiercely and Friends, a paper-over-board early chapter book series that’s right on target for recent picture-book graduates. Peering through a hole in the fence, Jim and Jilli see men building “a Big Red Something” next door. They decide that the woman in a pointy hat painting pictures of gumdrops and ice-cream cones on the structure is a witch creating “a Hansel and Gretel house,” and they fear for the safety of Jilli’s dog, Fiercely, when he gets into the neighboring yard. Using short, punchy sentences, Giff (the Kids of Polk Street School series) writes in the chipper voice of Jilli, whose mind hurtles amusingly from one thought to another. Searching for disguises to scare the “witch,” Jilli finds gummy bears stuck to the woodshed floor and dusts them off: “Gummy bears made you brave. They tasted good, too.” Palmisciano’s (Gifts from the Heart) oil pastels playfully reinforce the energy and puckish personalities of the kids and Fiercely in this promising series kickoff. Ages 5–8. Agent: George Nicholson, Sterling Lord Literistic. (July)