Tobias Carroll recommends exciting new books translated from Arabic, Croatian, Spanish, and Russian.

Join the editors of the World Kid Lit blog on a tour of their favorite international children's books of 2022, from picture books to YA fiction and graphic novels.

and where do they make this tenderness / as the war rages on around them?

“We toppled Lenin!” exclaimed Firman after a dramatic pause.

Tobias Carroll recommends noteworthy new books translated from Tibetan, Vietnamese, Arabic, Russian, Spanish, and Croatian.

I knew I was born here and I would die here.

then there’s the war / that flabby, shriveled, animal word “war”

Tobias Carroll recommends noteworthy new books translated from Ukrainian, Indonesian, Persian, Japanese, and Spanish.

“second time I’ve lost my home,” she utters with hatred / “officially, this time”

Hold an assault rifle with my hand, use my mouth

we won't recognize this city anymore

While some of this writing engages directly with the country's history of armed conflict with Russia, the majority addresses more quotidian themes.

Like the border between the word leave / and the concept of returning

“That evening they rang the doorbell . . . . I never saw him again.”

Many greet the clean slate of a new year by pledging to chalk up only virtue and moderation.

Above all else I appreciate skill and showmanship . . .

On the banks of the Prypiat a devil is sleeping

Joyful relatives poured vodka for themselves / and for the dead

The whole soldier shrugs off hurt.

The narrative threads that weave through the last ten years tell a tale in themselves.

“And while we’ve been busy digging graves we’ve missed it all.”

“I poisoned you, my love,” Alevtyna purrs.

“Looks like you’re a liar. Is that correct?”

It is through the fantastic that the reader arrives at the everyday.

                                                            …

Once again, darling, yours is a resinous, intimate whisper.

Listen, child, to a wise old wolf: / in dance everything has its own meaning.

It would be madness to delude himself into believing that Maria and the boy were still alive.

The entire city began to wash itself ceaselessly . . .

My own joy in working for Words Without Borders is a chance to discover new voices-the thrill of finding a poet or translator whose music changes the way I view the world, the way I breathe, if only for a moment.

By fourth grade, when Effie appeared in their class, Darka already had the rap sheet of either a budding criminal or a political leader...

He was a wildly lonely person. I loved him.

On the scrap is a picture of Snoopy in dark glasses. What's this? I ask. Acid, she replies.