I have the good fortune to spend part of my working day in the children's area of the West Seattle public library. Here I have encountered the wonderful imaginings of writers and artists in a format that, given my childless "growed-up" state, might otherwise have passed me by - the children's picture book.

When I had to have my own copy of No Friends (1986) by James Stevenson (contributing illustrator to The New Yorker) I knew I had stumbled upon an unexpected source of adult entertainment. Stevenson's rendition of grandpa as a boy shows him sporting his characteristic moustache, a delightful indicator of the childish imagination at work as we listen to grandpa recount the tall tales of his youth.

By the time I was compelled to purchase award-winning Tuesday by David Wiesner (1991) for the unperturbed expressions on the faces of the realistically drawn frogs who suddenly find themselves aloft upon lily pads, I was well and truly hooked. Sheer nostalgia for books we read or had read to us when we were young explains why some picture books retain their appeal into adulthood.

But what is the attraction for books discovered since those vernal times? Picture books offer something no other format does , not art books, not comic books, not graphic novels. Picture books are unique in that they must appeal to a young audience (up to age eight), yet also be acceptable to the adult who orchestrates the reading experiences of the child.

In the process of juggling these requirements, a distinguished minority of picture books manages to appeal to the inner six-year old of the adult. Russell the Sheep by celebrated British illustrator Rob Scotton (2005) deftly balances the reading requirements of the inner child and the sophisticated filters of its adult.

The little frog observer who is engaged in the drama of each scene seems to symbolize our sympathy with Russell's sleepless night. The presence of the unseen small reader is an essential ingredient in the adult's reading experience.

The fun of Mo Willems' Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! (2003) lies in hearing what a riotous read this would make with a chorus of "no's" responding to the pigeon's persistent requests, while the adult sensibility wryly acknowledges the tactics used by the less powerful to get their own way.

Most picture books appeal to adults on the basis of their effect upon the child, and do not make the inadvertent jump to an adult-only audience. Books with barely concealed functions such as inciting good behavior, or addressing developmental milestones those of us over the age of 30 have long since accomplished, are unlikely to appeal to the adult looking to while away the minutes with a good picture book.

I like to think it is to my credit that tales of the first sleep over, the first day at school, or the arrival of a new sibling do not rivet my attention via any spellbinding process of identification.

The minority of picture books that do end up shelved beyond the range of little jelly-smeared fingers in auntie's spinster pad are less driven by the agendas of the adult. They celebrate childish innocence and curiosity, rather than try to protect it, and so they avoid the patronizing traps of sentimentality and moralizing.

Roslyn Schwartz achieves this in her Mole Sisters series. The sisters explore their world in synchronized actions that express a companionship as deeply rooted as the underground home to which they return at the end of each adventure.

In a different but equally endearing tone, the pen of Ian Falconer, another New Yorker artist, captures the absorptions of a four-year-old diva, Olivia (2000), with a gentle and accurate humor.

Jonathan London, writer of the Froggy series is another terrific observer of a young world. From the watchful indulgence of mom to the exuberance of Froggy himself, illustrator Frank Remkiewicz produces an amazing range of expressions on the simple pointed-egg-shaped faces of his Froggy creations.

Picture books that celebrate the imagination rather than childish concerns lend themselves to fantastical artwork likely to have adult appeal. In The Three Pigs (2001), Wiesner of the stoic frogs shows a marvelous command of white space, as he asks us to think outside the picture book.

Barbara Lehman is another artist to have her way with a picture book, resulting in the intriguing deconstructionism of The Red Book (2004). Imagine a Night (2003) is a vehicle for the Escher-like surrealism of renowned Canadian artist Rob Gonzales.

Rather than look for superior artwork, the adult might turn to picture books for their humor. Walter the Farting Dog (2001) by William Kotzwinkle et al offers light and sometimes airborne relief.

If bathroom humor is not to your taste, try the slapstick humor in Lynn M. Munsinger's illustrations of Helen Lester's A Porcupine Named Fluffy (1989) as the little guy deals with the impossibility of living up to parental fantasies.

Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type (2000) by Doreen Cronin, illustrated by Betsy Lewin, is a story about overturning power relationships that had me rooting for the cows while Farmer Brown worked up a little sweat.

Imagination. Humor. Insight.

Those who have not opened a picture book since their own parents tucked them into bed with a dog-eared Dr. Seuss might be pleasantly surprised should they reacquaint themselves with the children's area of their local library.

Anne Maxwell works at the West Seattle Library and can be reached at wseditor@robinsonnews.com