BATHTIME FOR SNOW MONKEYS

In Japan’s snowy Nagano mountains, a troop of nihonzaru (Japanese macaques) settle into their favorite hot spring for what should be a long, peaceful soak.

Tokuda-Hall relies on strict 5-7-5 haiku throughout, using each three-line stanza as both caption and quiet narration: “Snow falls thick and cold. / Nihonzaru make their way. / Hot springs await them.” That hushed, declarative voice holds throughout, broken only when a baby monkey’s splash sparks onomatopoeia and exclamation points, unsettling the troop until grooming restores the calm. Imamura’s illustrations, created from gouache washes layered with pastel crayon, aren’t outlined; the monkeys are depicted as soft, rounded masses of brown and gold, their pink faces reduced to simple ovals marked with a few economical lines. Texture comes from the crayon’s grain: Snow is built from masses of small white flecks and soft piles, fur from short warm strokes of ochre and umber. Gold-leafed pine boughs against pale, hazy skies recall the flattened, decorative landscapes of traditional Japanese screen painting, while the color scheme tracks the day’s arc—warm and golden early on, cooling with piles of snow against pale pink faces that glow against the deep indigo water. Wide landscapes give way to a few intimate close-ups, nowhere more vivid than the baby monkey’s arms flung overhead, mid-splash, filling the page.

A serene, exquisite ode to togetherness—and a gentle gateway to haiku for young readers.