PUMPKIN MOON. Illustrations by Simon Bartram. Text by Tim Preston. Templar pound;9.99.

UG: boy genius of the stone age and his search for soft trousers. By Raymond Briggs. Jonathan Cape pound;10.99.

FIX-IT DUCK. By Jez Alborough. Collins Children’s Books pound;9.99.

THE BOOK ABOUT MOOMIN, MYMBLE AND LITTLE MY. By Tove Jansson. Translated by Sophie Hannah. Sort Of Books pound;8.99.

KING ROLLO AND THE NEW STOCKINGS. By David McKee. Andersen Press pound;9.99.

Despite the picture book’s reputation as a conservative medium, it often makes use of innovative formats and graphic approaches. Among the smaller publishers, Templar’s list is one to watch. In Metal Mutz!, David Ellwand photographs the “real” robots he has built out of household items, then manipulates the photos on computer. The result is the story of a lonely robot who makes use of a well-stocked junkyard to build himself a robot dog companion.

The robots are sure to inspire art or design and technology classes, and replaceable batteries will keep the dog-barking chip operational beyond the boundaries of patience (batteries can be removed).

Another interesting Templar title is Pumpkin Moon by Simon Bartram, with text by Tim Preston, which features a surreal swarm of Hallowe’en jack-o’-lanterns floating through an American town. The storytelling is virtually all in the painterly illustrations, with minimal words. I’d give it a thumbs-up had there not been so much obvious pilfering from David Weisner’s 1991 Caldecott Award winner, Tuesday.

Raymond Briggs’s Ug: boy genius of the stone age is a thoughtful study of the isolation many innovators feel in the midst of conservative hostility to change.

The boy inventor manages to engage his father in his quest for soft trousers (as opposed to the stone ones everyone wears), but the quest falls short due to the lack of sewing technology. This ending is not a low point, as it strengthens the pathos and vicarious frustration the reader feels for Ug.

Briggs is enviably immune to a long-standing British prejudice against picture books in a comic-strip format. Much like Ug himself, Briggs’s works will remain an oddity until British taste catches up with the French enthusiasm for high-quality, hard-cover bandes dessinees.

Jez Alborough’s Fix-It Duck stands between the traditional picture book and the comic format. In this follow-up to Duck in the Truck, Duck is a dippy DIY enthusiast, a knight errant who believes a hammer can solve any problem. A sharp eye will spot the early signs of destruction to follow: Alborough’s planning has been thorough. An object lesson in thinking before acting, Fix-It Duck will appeal to those who delight in mayhem and blind enthusiasm.

Moomin fans will pounce on Sophie Hannah’s English translation of Tove Jansson’s The Book About Moomin, Mymble and Little My, originally released in 1952, and lovingly published in an uncoated retro format. Although the rhyming text is sometimes a little gratuitous, its rambling whimsy suits the illustrations perfectly. This lost-and-found story is an effective page-turner, with each spread begging the question as to what happens next. Jansson’s fiercely independent illustrations are loaded with appealing psychedelic characters and exciting, eerie locations; there’s a series of peep-through holes and a feast at the end. The book’s anarchic hand-made quality is curiously in step with some of today’s trendier picture book treatments.

David McKee’s Elmer series about the patchwork elephant has somewhat overshadowed his more inspired and idiosyncratic King Rollo books, with their straightforward domestic atmosphere juxtaposed with the socially surreal. King Rollo and the New Stockings features the bearded juvenile king finding a way of using the colour of his socks as a valuable mnemonic aid to distinguish left from right.

Rollo’s guardianship is assumed by the long-suffering mother-figure, Cook, and the flighty father-figure, the magician. As with all King Rollo titles, it’s interesting to consider whether the characters are supposed to be “real”, or merely the distorted views of a little boy who imagines himself to be king of his household.

TED DEWAN