King School

Deacon has long possessed a rare ability to create picturebooks that operate simultaneously as adventure, fable and philosophical enquiry. His stories often appear deceptively simple on the surface, yet beneath their playful energy lie questions about power, belonging, identity and what it means to live well alongside others. In this welcome outing, he turns his attention towards childhood, learning and leadership, creating a picturebook that feels less like a conventional story and more like a quietly radical manifesto for curiosity.

When a young king is deemed old enough to begin his education, the adults around him set about preparing him for the future. A vast school is built. Experts are gathered. Rules are established. Surrounded by towering walls and generations of accumulated knowledge, the king is expected to learn how to become the ruler everyone imagines he should be. Yet despite the good intentions surrounding him, something feels wrong. The school has been designed for a king, but nobody has stopped to listen to the child.

What follows is both wonderfully playful and unexpectedly profound. With a single emphatic ‘No!’, the young king abandons the carefully ordered, claustrophobic world prepared for him and races beyond its boundaries. What begins as an escape soon becomes something closer to a wild rumpus of discovery. Chased by the adults, as ordered, the king instead invites them forwards. As fields replace walls and woodlands replace classrooms, pursuit gives way to participation. Along the way, the king asks a deceptively simple question: ‘Can I show some important things about myself?’ It is the question at the heart of the entire book. The adults have worked tirelessly to teach him what a king should be, yet nobody has paused to discover who he already is. As the chase unfolds, learning becomes something shared rather than delivered. Discovery replaces instruction, curiosity replaces certainty, and the world itself becomes the classroom. 

Deacon’s illustrations are extraordinary. His loose, expressive linework carries an energy that feels simultaneously childlike and masterful. Architecture looms and constrains; landscapes breathe and expand. Scale is used brilliantly throughout, with page turns delivering moments of genuine surprise and delight. Every spread invites exploration, rewarding readers who linger over details and visual clues.

What prevents the book from becoming didactic is its generosity. The adults are not villains. They genuinely wish to help. Their mistake lies not in caring too much, but in assuming they already know what the king needs. The resulting tension gives the story its emotional depth and elevates it far beyond a simple celebration of freedom or play.

By its conclusion, King School suggests that education is not about producing a particular kind of person but about creating opportunities for growth, encounter and wonder. Wise, playful and deeply humane, this is a picturebook that trusts children with big ideas and leaves readers of all ages with important questions to carry into the world beyond its pages.