In "The Christmas Magic," a lovely new picture book by Lauren Thompson, Santa Claus feels the approach of the season by means even more magical than the opening of Macy's display. He senses a sudden tingling in his whiskers that pulls both ends of his mustache as taut as a piano string.
"Come along home now," he calls out to his familiar team of reindeer, beautifully rendered by Jon Muth's watercolors. "The Magic will be here soon."
Every Christmas season brings new volumes about the North Pole's most famous resident, but Thompson's version feels especially right for this unrelenting recession, with its return to simplicity. This story finds Santa in a snug house with a red door, darning his own socks and running his fingertips across crinkling pages of children's names. Polishing his sleigh by hand and stuffing his sack with "what each child at heart wants most," he waits until the night when the world "begins to thrum with magic, the kind of magic that makes reindeers fly."
This is the Santa Claus that parents of the analog generation will want to pass down to their digital kids. It is among the best of the season's new picture books reinterpreting traditional story lines with twists that will be fresh for young readers, and the adults who help them turn the pages.
"The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus" (Running Press, $14.95; ages 4 to 8) by L. Frank Baum, illustrated by Charles Santore.
Kids who have grown weary of the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer version of the Santa saga should check out this new release of Baum's 1902 classic, which imagines Claus as a babe in the woods, raised by well-meaning fairies. Santore's new illustrations have a century-old feel with a little Lord of the Rings around the edges, and Baum offers historical explanations for every tradition, from stockings hung by the fire to flying reindeer. The book offers a lovely glimpse of Christmases long past.
"The Steel Pan Man of Harlem" (Carolrhoda Books, $16.95; ages 5 to 8) written and illustrated by Colin Bootman.
In this inventive retelling of "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," author and illustrator Bootman sets the story near the 125 1/2th Street subway station during the days of the Harlem Renaissance. There, a mysterious stranger with a steel drum sets up temporary residence, playing melodies that make everyone dance as if in a trance. Bootman chooses a palette of nighttime blues and greens that give a sinister feel to some of the pages, but he smartly lightens up the dark legend by removing only the rats and a rat-like mayor from the final scenes.