I Must Betray You by Ruta Sepetys

I Must Betray You

By Ruta Sepetys

YA Historical Fiction

Ages 13+, grades 7+

Summary Cristian has lived all of his 17 years in the Socialist Republic of Romania. He is a quiet, observant student with an apparent rebellious streak– not something that is heralded under the Communist tyranny of Nicolae Ceausescu but that is encouraged and fed by his grandfather, Bunu. He constantly ponders the nature of his existence, wondering if high schoolers in other countries have to stand in line for cooking oil, or whisper in their own homes to avoid surveillance. Deep down, Cristian knows the answer and detests the oppressive government that keeps Romanians in a perpetual state of poverty and fear, and he journals about it in a forbidden notebook he keeps tucked in the floorboard of his closet bedroom. But when his Bunu falls terminally ill with leukemia and he is recruited by the secret police to become an informant on an American diplomat in exchange for medicine, Cristian accepts the offer. He believes he can outwit them long enough to help his grandfather, but the revolution is reaching its peak more quickly than he knows and bringing with it tension and violence that complicate his plans and endanger him and everyone around him. He risks everything to expose his country’s reality to the rest of the world, and in the end finds both disorienting betrayal and spectacular hope.

Justification Historical fiction is my favorite genre, as well-researched and well-written historical fiction is my favorite way to learn about what life was like in a given place and time. I know very little about Romania or the Communist movement outside of the broad historical facts around the Russian Revolution, so picking up I Must Betray You opened up brand new territory for me. The cover is beautiful and the summary was engaging enough for me to land without hesitation on this book for my final review, but it doesn’t begin to do justice to the story itself.

Response I did not want to put this book down, and looked forward to every moment I got to sit back down with it. Constructed of short, pacy chapters, this book keeps the reader hanging on. Author Ruta Sepetys does a phenomenal job of showing the human impact of living under oppressive regimes like that of Ceausescu– not only the hunger, poverty, and reprehensible conditions, but the crushing distrust, anxiety, and isolation that keeps everyone on the edge of a breakdown. Cristian is a great character, he is imperfect and has a teenage naivete and occasional arrogance that makes him believable, but not unlikeable. The persistent internal monologue of his grappling with his country’s situation, the ethics and ramifications of his own choices, and his growing understanding of how the rest of the world lives is spot on to an intellectual teenager, and he and his peers offer a powerful illustration of the real-life youth who led the revolution in 1989. The age of the protagonist is the only thing making this a “YA” novel, as its themes are far from juvenile and Sepetys' writing is top notch. I highly recommend this for readers high school and up.

Sepetys, Ruta. (2022). I must betray you. Philomel Books.

Observologist by Giselle Clarkson

The Observologist: A handbook for mounting very small scientific expeditions

By Giselle Clarkson

Children’s Informational

Ages 8+, grades 2+

In The Observologist, Giselle Clarkson provides young readers with an engaging handbook for observing over 100 creatures and features of the natural world. With comic illustrations and detailed scientific explanations, The Observologist is an excellent read for a budding elementary naturalist.

Justification

I chose The Observologist as my children’s nonfiction book based entirely on what I could glean from the cover. “A handbook for mounting very small expeditions,” the subtitle reads, the words framed by a few choice creepy-crawlies. Though it is beyond his independent reading level, the book seemed like an excellent option to share with my nature-loving kindergartner. I anticipated a random bug fact book which my son would have readily consumed, and The Observologist does contain plenty of that. However, at its core it is a book about the habit of observing, a lovely guide for noticing the little things and finding wonder and awe, scientifically, in a variety of settings.

Content

This book introduces fairly advanced concepts for middle elementary readers in a heavily-illustrated and occasionally joke-y format. I appreciate both the comic aspect, which keeps the book entertaining, and the scientific detail and accuracy which students are apt to soak in at this age. The first chapter introduces the idea of “Observology” as a study and a practice of taking interest in little things, encouraging curiosity as a means of making life infinitely more interesting. It goes on a prime young readers with the information they will need to implement the practice: an introduction to taxonomy and scientific naming, useful instruments and invertebrate anatomy. The following four chapters guide readers through what they’ll find when they practice observology in different environments: a damp corner, pavement, a weedy patch, and inside a home.

Illustrations

With artwork that is simultaneously humorous and scientifically detailed, The Observologist holds young reader interest easily. Clarkson’s style is so directly reminiscent of Roald Dahl’s that a cameo of the Giant Peach with its insect inhabitants would not have shocked me. That aspect was sweetly nostalgic for me, and kept the book entertaining as well as interesting for my son. The somewhat-muted colors keep it from feeling too cartoony, and Clarkson includes a remarkable level of detail including such granular things as the pores on the underside of a mushroom cap and the pterostigma of a dragonfly wing. While I expected to enjoy the facts and artwork, I was pleasantly surprised by the depth of this book and will likely find a personal copy a more permanent home on our family bookshelf.

Clarkson, G. (2023). The observologist. Gecko Press.

Mexikid by Pedro Martín

Mexikid: A Graphic Memoir

By Pedro Martín

Children’s Graphic Novel

Ages 10+, grades 5+

Summary

The year was 1977, Christmas break was approaching and Pedro Martín’s already-enormous family was preparing to welcome another member. Pedro, his parents, and eight brothers and sisters load up in an old Winnebago and a tandem pick-up truck and set off on an international roadtrip from Watsonville, California to Pegueros, Mexico to fetch their 85-year-old Abuelito (grandfather). From skipped roadside attractions, treasure hunting through K-Marts and Mexican mercados, an eventful border crossing, and visits with lots of extended and chosen family, the drive to the parents’ hometown is an adventure in itself. Once they arrive, Pedro realizes that his lineage is rich with history that he becomes eager to learn more about. In the process Pedro learns a great deal about himself, and eventually strikes a comfortable balance as an American-born Mexikid.

Justification

Graphic novels have not always been my cup of tea. I attempted popular works like Sandman and Watchmen without success, but eventually found redemptive footing with historical work like Persepolis and March, and fantasy series like Lore Olympus and Morgana and Oz. As a Newbery and Pura Belpre Honor book, I figured Mexikid held a lot of promise. Just from the cover bearing an illustrated collage of story mementos surrounding the main character, Pedro, and a Winnebago, Mexikid looked like a good time. Thankfully, I wasn’t wrong. My first thought upon picking it up from the library hold shelf was that it is an exceptionally hefty volume for a middle-grade book. Its over 300 pages are jam-packed with non-stop story and art which some might find overwhelming, but I thought it to be endlessly engaging, funny, and heartwarming.

Response

I devoured this book. Most of it was riotous, as the story includes many big personalities including that of the author, and is moved along from one lively account to the next of their comic mishaps along their journey down to Pegueros and back. It is interspersed with asides in which the reader learns about the defining characteristics and idiosyncratic traits of each family member, from sister Lila’s extreme intelligence to their Amá’s tendency to break bananas in half, thus giving us a genuine glimpse into what day-to-day life was like living among the 11 of them. It is full of family lore dating back to the Mexican Revolution, and Martín showcases his adaptable abilities as an artist by illustrating those segments in an entirely different style from the rest of the book. Woven in with the humorous tales and poop and snot jokes appropriate for a 10-year-old protagonist are bits of lovely explanation and appreciation of Mexican culture, as well as moments of sweet, thoughtful, sometimes even somber realization through which young Pedro begins to come of age. I found it just as enjoyable as some adult books of a similar genre, and could see it being a fun read together with a younger reader as some dated pop culture references may benefit from explanation (cassette players and the Fonz from Happy Days, for instance). I find myself genuinely excited for the day my son is old enough to enjoy this book, and that’s one of the biggest compliments I can offer.

Martín, P. (2023). Mexikid. Dial Books for Young Readers.

The Last Mapmaker by Christina Soontornvat

The Last Mapmaker

By Christina Soontornvat

Newbery Honor 2023

Ages 8+, grades 3+

Summary

By day, Sai does her best to present as 12-year-old with potential in the capital city of Mangkon. By night, she hides her meager earnings and proper uniform in a tree while dodging pickpockets and drunks– including her own father– in the lowliest part of town. “The Tail is the Teeth” is the saying there; the beginning is the end, the path behind and the path ahead are one and the same, and she is limited by her lack of lineage. Sai has a knack for handwriting and an eagerness to learn, which make her an excellent candidate when she falls into the position of assistant to the renowned master mapmaker Paiyoon.

When Paiyoon gains a seat on an expedition to map new southern territory, Sai jumps at the chance to join him and escape her dead-end life. During the months-long journey at sea, she perfects both her forgery and mapmaking skills and develops new relationships which she must navigate carefully, so that her true history and lineage is not brought to light, all while she yearns for stability and connection. The perils grow and Sai is faced with increasingly consequential choices that, in the end, lead her back to herself. The Tail may be the Teeth, but Sai determinedly gnaws through the social blockades to forge her own path to family and freedom.

Justification

The Last Mapmaker has been on my list since I saw it on the awards shelf at our local library branch, but I rarely make time to read YA, especially middle-grade literature as my reading time is precious and limited. However, I was happy to have the excuse of reviewing it to finally dive in to the world Christina Soontornvat creates in this novel. At its heart, this is a coming-of-age story of a girl desperate to forge a different path than the one made available to her. The novel also includes themes of complicated family dynamics, boundaries, and forgiveness; imperialism and the cultural and environmental costs of colonialization; and a responsibility to learn from past mistakes and do better for future generations. I love this novel for digging into such mature themes in ways that are appropriate and accessible to young readers and am impressed with Soontornvat’s ability to do so in a way that is not heavy handed and emphasizes the fantasy and adventure of the story while presenting important ethical dilemmas for the reader's consideration.

Response

Beyond the ethics, this is also just a good fantasy novel. It has high adventure, mythology, danger, betrayal, and even a dragon or two, all experienced by realistic characters who are both likeable and imperfect, and who learn and grow as the story goes. As a main character Sai is mature for her age, but one would have to become street-savvy in the life she has lived. She is determined and compelling, and grapples with her own morals through each decision she makes. I am glad that The Last Mapmaker lived up to my own long-awaited expectations for it, and that such authors like Soontornvat are setting such high standards in fiction for today’s youth.

Soontornvat, C. (2022). The last mapmaker. Candlewick Press.

The Truth About Dragons by Julie Leung

The Truth About Dragons

By Julie Leung, illustrated by Hanna Cha

Caldecott Honor 2024

Ages 4+, grades PK+

Through a bedtime story, a mother guides her child on an adventure to find the magic inside him by seeking out the truth about dragons. She incorporates his two grandmothers and two different cultural interpretations of dragon mythology into the story, and in doing so encourages him to embrace his dual heritage.

Justification

My kids and I jointly chose this book from the Caldecott Honor list, largely because of their shared fixation with dragons. The front cover art is very appealing and it is easy for an adult to surmise from the illustration of two very different dragons that the story likely includes some celebration of culture. As a mom of two very white kids, I gravitate toward books that allow them to explore or share in other cultures in meaningful and beautiful ways. This book continues to appeal to all three of us several weeks into its loan period for its content and illustrations.

Content

While Julie Leung’s text isn’t labeled as poetry, there is a definite rhythm to it that makes reading it aloud very fun. The mother tells the story in second person to her child, which reminds me of how a tabletop roleplaying gamemaster narrates the players’ adventure. The language is flowery and descriptive, appropriate for the mythical nature of the adventure while still being accessible enough to even my three-year-old for her to enjoy it. Leung’s prose appeals to every sense as she chronicles the child’s journey; dried oak leaves crunch underfoot, honey-colored sunlight trickles through the leaves, and the scents of cedar chests and sugar cookies mark the young hero’s first stop. The latter half of his journey is then characterized by the sticky mist, the chirrup of crickets, and the smells of incense and jasmine rice. The audience can’t help but be drawn into the worlds she so vividly portrays.

Illustrations

If Leung’s words paint their own pictures, Hanna Cha’s illustrations tell their own stories in perfect tandem. Soft washes of vibrant color bring a sense of liveliness and movement to her lavish and highly detailed illustrations. Cha shifts her illustration style midway through the story as the child moves from the first forest– one filled with mossy bridges, will-o’-the-wisps, and a cottage in a bog–  to the next leg of their adventure in a forest of bamboo– cool and airy, with misty rivers, nine-tailed foxes, and a pagoda-shaped palace. This shift isn’t jarring at all; it took me many close read-throughs to realize what made the two parts of the story feel so different, yet not totally removed from one another. It appears that she switches ink mediums from a fine nib to a softer calligraphy pen at this important transition point in the story, but continues with the soft washes of color that let each image glow.

It is only at the very end of the story that both the words and illustrations clarify that this is a cultural journey for the child. If a reader pays close attention, they will notice that a brooch and a bracelet worn by each of the two wise women– one from the cottage, the other from the palace– have found their way to the child’s nightstand next to their framed photo as the text reads:

“This is the precious secret:

Inside your heart is where

The two forests meet.

Both journeys are yours to take.

Both worlds are yours to discover.”

Leung, J. (2023). The truth about dragons (H. Cha, Illus.). Henry Holt.

Home by Isabelle Simler, translated by Vineet Lal

Home

By Isabelle Simler, translated by Vineet Lal
Children’s Poetry
Ages 5+, grades 2+

Home by Isabelle Simler is a children’s book of poetry in which each of the 27 poems introduces a different animal and describes the nature and function of their home. The free verse poetry is accompanied by Simler’s ink illustrations depicting the animals in their environments.

Justification
Home was chosen from a selection of children’s poetry books by my animal-loving son. Simler’s coverage of not only a wide selection of animals but their dwellings in their environments and their geographic locations was a multilayered win for my nature-curious kindergartner. The illustrations are striking as well, and I’ve been surprised at how engrossed he is in the poetry itself.

Content
Simler is an author and illustrator living in Paris, so the original work, Maison, was published in French. That version won numerous awards in 2022 and 2023, while its English counterpart was named a Batchelder Honor Book and made the ALSC Notable Children's Books List and the Cooperative Children's Book Center Choice List this year. This version is translated by Vineet Lal and while I can’t speak to how true it is to Simler’s original prose, I can attest to the beauty of Lal’s interpretation. The text is not as lyrical as some free verse poetry, but is engaging thanks in part to its descriptive imagery and, most especially, its first-person perspective. Simler’s introductory text addresses this beautifully, saying “To explore these unique places, I’ve had to bend, and shrink, and squeeze, and let myself be transformed in weird and wonderful ways.” Additionally, the last four pages consist of additional amazing facts about each animal, a useful glossary of terms, and additional recommended resources for inspired readers to continue their exploration of this topic.

Illustrations
Simler's illustrations are interesting. She works primarily in ink, and her individually discernable strokes bring a liveliness to each image. They are incredibly detailed without being overwhelming, realistic without feeling scientific or boring. Many include a variety of bright colored strokes against a dark background, creating a depth to each image that is unusual in children’s illustration. Each one feels like an intimate view of the animal subject, and sublimely compliments her first-person prose.

Simler, I. (2024). Home (V. Lal, Trans.). Eerdman’s Books for Young Readers.

The Barefoot Dreams of Petra Luna

By Alda P. Dobbs
Children's Historical Fiction
Ages 8+, grades 4+

Summary
In The Barefoot Dreams of Petra Luna, Petra flees her home with her younger sister, baby brother, and grandmother as their village is burned to the ground during the Mexican Revolution. This family is all she has left - her mother died giving birth to her brother, and her father was conscripted unwillingly into the Federal Army. However, she has dreams– of living peacefully, of going to school and learning to read, and of reuniting with their father on the other side of the war. She is willing to cross deserts, battlefields, and national boundaries with her remaining family in tow to make that happen.

Justification
The Barefoot Dreams of Petra Luna has been on my radar since it reached library shelves. In addition to being historical fiction (my favorite genre) set in Mexico (a personal interest), it received numerous honors and awards in 2022 including the Pura Belpré Honor, Américas Honor, and making the New York Public Library Best Books list. This age range is challenging for me, as it’s not always engaging enough to hold my attention like some YA literature and my own kids are still too young for me to share it with them. However, The Barefoot Dreams of Petra Luna and its sequel, The Other Side of the River, will remain on our shelves until they are old enough for us to appreciate them together. Alda P. Dobbs’ story of Petra and her family’s struggle through the revolution in her home country and as refugee immigrants in the United States is an important one for children to experience, especially as the topic of immigration remains so divided.
 
Response
My first thought reflecting on this book is how grim the story is overall. While I am sure it is true to the experience at that time (it is a fictionalized account of Dobb’s great grandmother’s journey into America), I was struck at how harsh and unrelenting it is for a book geared toward such a young audience. However it is quite fast paced, and the ongoing action mixed with Petra’s persistent hope keeps the story moving and the reader engaged enough to stay with it. I always appreciate a book that incorporates the language of its non-English-speaking characters, and Dobbs does this really well, in a way that presents Spanish terms often in dialogue and offers their translation smoothly as part of the story thereafter. The linguistic explanations are more obvious that I often see or prefer in YA or adult literature, but that makes it very accessible to a younger audience that might otherwise get hung up on unknown vocabulary. While The Barefoot Dreams of Petra Luna may not have been my top book of this year, it is a worthwhile read and I recommend it for the perspective the story offers, and the history lesson therein. 

Dobbs, A. (2021). The barefoot dreams of Petra Luna. Sourcebooks Young Readers.

Everything Sad is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri

Everything Sad is Untrue

By Daniel Nayeri
Printz Award Winner
Ages 10+, grades 6+

Summary
In an American classroom, Daniel (whose name is really Khosrou, but that has proven too hard for Americans to pronounce) stands in front of his class recounting tales of his life, of his family, and of the place he grew up and later fled. Addressing the reader directly, he claims that “the shame of refugees is that we have to constantly explain ourselves. It makes the stories patchworks, not beautiful rugs.” This largely sums up the book, as his stories are constantly punctuated by his having to stop and clarify some aspect of Persian life to either his classmates or the reader. Yet his stories are beautiful, as accounts of his early life and immigration to America are intricately woven into Persian history and mythology.

Born in Iran to a family of wealth and Islamic legacy, Daniel now lives with his mother, older sister, and sometimes-stepdad in Edmond, Oklahoma, and spends his time observing and notating the behavior of his American peers in sometimes clumsy, sometimes astute attempts at assimilation. This linear story of Everything Sad is Untrue covers just a school year, but through his storytelling he shares generations’ and centuries’ worth of history and lore. His audience of skeptical peers mostly believes him to be the poor refugee kid who makes things up for attention, but for Daniel, his stories are how he makes sense of the world and connects his patchwork of memories to his present life. 

Justification
I was attracted to this book from the Printz Award list because of its topic. I have been on a kick of reading and listening to Middle Eastern historical fiction for much of the past year, beginning with Gian Sardar’s Take What You Can Carry and Renee Adieh’s The Wrath and the Dawn, continuing through the work of Marjan Kamali. Everything Sad is Untrue offers an excellent continuation of this theme but from a totally new viewpoint from author Daniel Nayeri (the character’s name is no coincidence; though the work is considered fiction it is largely autobiographical). Like other related works, Nayeri includes explanations of Middle Eastern social expectations and formalities, as well as my favorite part: rich descriptions of Persian cuisine like chicken fesenjoon, cardamom pistachio cake, and saffron rosewater cookies. The experience of Iran– its beauty and rich culture as well as its problematic political history– through the eyes of a twelve-year-old boy brought something new I didn’t know I needed to round out this literary fixation. 

Response
I was shocked when I realized the suggested age range for this book started at ten years, not because of anything glaringly inappropriate, but because the book engaged me nearly as much as any YA or adult fiction has. Nayeri manages to write in a voice that is simultaneously true to the 12-year-old narrator, yet also seamlessly wise well beyond his years. Alongside scenes of pre-teen social angst and poop jokes– lots of actually pretty funny poop jokes– he stitches recollections of familial fables and vignettes of deeply meaningful struggle and insight. I’m not embarrassed to admit the latter had me nodding along teary-eyed on more than one occasion, like when he describes his unsuccessful attempts to share memories of their previous life with his older sister. “Sometimes,” Daniel says, “you just want somebody to look at a thing with you and say, “Yes. That is a thing you’re looking at. You haven’t lied to yourself.” Nayeri’s ability to give weight to both Daniel’s attempts at learning to eliminate in American toilets, as well as to his deep desire for connection to himself and his family, make this book a remarkable piece of literary work for both youth and adult readers.

Nayeri, D. (2020). Everything sad is untrue. Levine Querido.

Pardalita

By Joana Estrela, translated by Lyn-Miller Lachmann

YALSA Great Graphic Novels for Teens

Ages 12+, grades 7+

Summary

Raquel lives a fairly straightforward life in a small Portuguese town. She is 16, she goes to school, spends time with her two best friends Luisa and Fred, and teaches her divorced mother how to navigate the internet. One day, a girl catches her attention and something in her shifts. “I feel weird when I see you,” Raquel reflects. “Maybe I envy you.” When Fred decides to audition for the theater troupe in which Raquel’s person of interest, Pardalita, is involved, she is unexpectedly pulled in as well. Through simple, daily ruminations, Raquel grapples with her feelings and her identity. The standard insecurities of teenage life, the relief of a breakup with a sweet but mismatched boyfriend, and the comfort of her long-time friends provide the backdrop to the confusing but quietly titillating development of her new friendship, and she begins to wonder what she can’t fully bring herself to say. “How does a person know they are? / Is there a test?” she ponders over her unspoken sexuality. “Because I can’t be the only one / who is / here / now. / And what if?” 

Justification

Pardalita came to my attention through the YALSA Great Graphic Novels list. The two-tone artwork immediately brought to mind another of my favorite graphic novels, Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi. I was also excited to see the LGBTQ themes represented, and was drawn in by the understated snippets of text I was able to preview. “Understated” may be one of the most accurate ways to describe the book. The story is a low-key slice of life peppered with flashbacks, told through a combination of lyrical prose, comic-style strips, vignettes of mundane reflections, and scratchy illustrations. Contrary to what one might expect from this constant shift in format, the story flows beautifully and closes with an abrupt but appropriately simple ending.

Response

I can imagine this book may not be everyone’s cup of tea– no book is. The mix of styles between poetry, stream of consciousness, and graphic novel may turn some away; however, I appreciated how quietly engaging it is and found that the shifts in format added to the storytelling, giving me a greater clue to Raquel’s state of mind at any given point in the story. As a slow-burn teen lesbian awakening story, I think it’s an excellent book for LGBTQ representation, as it lacks any overt language or plot that is likely to be challenged and focuses almost solely on Raquel’s internal experience. With little actual drama but lots of very personal and relatable introspection, I found it to be powerfully contemplative in its simplicity. This made Pardalita a comforting and easy, but very worthwhile read. 

Estrela, J. (2023). Pardalita (L. Lachmann, Trans.). Levine Querido.

Me and The Boss: A Story About Mending and Love by Michelle Edwards, illustrated by April Harrison

Me and The Boss

By Michelle Edwards, illustrated by April Harrison

Coretta Scott King Honor Book

Ages 4+, grades PK+

In Me and The Boss, six-year-old Lee follows the lead of his big sister, Zora. In a trip to their library, the two learn a new skill together. Though Zora excels immediately and Lee struggles at first, he continues to practice and, later, thoughtfully employs his new skill to mend his sister’s bear.

Justification

Me and The Boss was a mostly random pick from the Coretta Scott King honors list. The striking cover art by illustrator April Harrison caught my attention, and I erroneously assumed from the subtitle, A Story About Mending and Love, that the characters might experience a rupture and repair in their narrative. As a mom of two often-quarelling young siblings, I love a good story about making mistakes and making amends. While this story is not that– it is about literal mending, as Lee and Zora are introduced to the skill of needlework in their trip to the library– it is a sweet story about the dynamic of siblings and the ways they may show their love for one another.

Content

Michelle Edward’s text is straightforward and very accessible for younger readers/listeners. The story is narrated in first person by Lee, and while some adult readers might find the wording a bit clunky at times, I can see two things at work here: diverse cultural and dialectical influences (as Lee and his family are Black), and quirky uses of language consistent with the way a six-year-old may actually describe his experiences. For example, when Lee is up late practicing his stitching, he says: “With my needle, I poke a stitch and snag my hurt finger. I quick brave another. That tiger’s tooth, mean and sharp, catches me again. Take your time, Lee.” I appreciate this aspect of the story, and think it lends the book character and gives us a greater glimpse into how Lee thinks. I also appreciate that, while the storyline is quite simple and takes place in less than 24 hours,the understanding we gain of Lee and Zora’s relationship far surpasses the single day. Zora is the boss, the leader who doles out instructions and enforces rules, and Lee is the younger, not-yet-so-confident tag-a-long. However, Zora isn’t painted as plainly bossy; she uses her confidence to advocate for her brother and keep them both safe. While Lee’s gesture of repairing Zora’s bear doesn’t change their relationship, it doesn’t have to– it brings them to a tender moment in which Zora wraps him in a grateful hug and, as Lee explains, “we share something that is bigger than my pocket, bigger than Bess’s ear, maybe even bigger than me or Zora.”

Illustrations

Harrison’s illustrations are engrossing. She works in collage and mixed-media painting, so on every read-through you’re likely to catch something new in her images. The layers of bright, sometime clashing patterns and colors keep readers’ attention, and also lend a sense of familiarity to each scene, like yes, this plaid came from a real men’s button-up shirt and yes, a real-life Zora would likely wear that checkerboard skirt with a bright batik blouse. Me and The Boss isn’t Harrison’s first award-winning work; her very first children’s book, What is Given from the Heart, won the John Steptoe Award New Talent. Her style in this book compliments the simplicity of Edwards story while offering a colorful depth in this view of a day in the life of these two siblings.

Edwards, M. (2022). Me and the boss (A. Harrison, Illus.). Anne Schwartz Books.

Memoirs of a Tortoise by Devin Scillian, illustrated by Tim Bowers

Memoirs of a Tortoise

By Devin Scillian, ill. Tim Bowers

Bluebonnet Award Winner

Ages 4+, grades 1+

In Memoirs of a Tortoise, Oliver spends his 81st year watching his garden change with the seasons, and reflects on life with– and without– his human, Ike. Through a conversation with his mother, the tortoise navigates grief and loss, and finds joy and closure on the other side.

Justification

This book was actually chosen by my son, a five-year-old animal lover, from the Texas Bluebonnet Awards list. I expect that it’s only a short matter of time before he notices and requests the rest of Devin Scillian’s "memoirs" books from the back cover. Despite the heavy theme of loss that makes up the middle of this story, my son and I both enjoy it, in part due to the lightness, love, and appreciation in which the saddest part is sandwiched. As a parent of two young children, I have a particular appreciation for picture books that work through challenging topics in such a helpful, hopeful, and accessible way.

Content

Memoirs of a Tortoise is narrated in the first person by the titular tortoise, Oliver. The story is arranged with a new reflection each month for thirteen months. While this means that a significant amount of time is covered in such a short book, the pacing still feels appropriately unhurried. This is an effect of Scillian’s simple sentence structure, paired with the easygoing and mindful musings of the tortoise as he ruminates over the lovely things in his life with his human Ike, from the crunchy sweetness of an apple to the shade offered them by a sycamore tree. In June (the sixth page of the story), Oliver recalls a saying from his mother: “‘The whole world is in a hurry. They miss so much.’ I’m not missing anything,” he asserts. As the story continues, Oliver unexpectedly loses Ike. Through a months-long quest through numerous other gardens and back, which Scillian peppers with bittersweet observations of his changing surroundings, Oliver is able to process his confusion and grief and learns to look back on his time with his human with love and continued appreciation of the simple things in life.

Illustrations

In his illustrations for Memoirs of a Tortoise, Tim Bowers marries a foundation of realism in his acrylic painting with a touch of whimsy. While Ike and the surrounding gardens are illustrated fairly true to life, Oliver embodies immense personality in the images, matching the anthropomorphic narration that allows him the seemingly human sentiments of joy, grief, and a longing for “forever.” While some scenes are presented in a straightforward landscape, others offer a variety of viewpoints: through a forest of hibiscus flowers or over the rim of a plastic baby pool, for example. This keeps the illustrations themselves engaging for readers as they navigate the simple but sweet messaging of the story.

Scillian, D. (2020). Memoirs of a tortoise (T. Bowers, Illus.). Sleeping Bear Press.

Look by Gabi Snyder, illustrated by Samantha Cotterill

Look

By Gabi Snyder, ill. Samantha Cotterill

Texas 2x2 Award

Ages 4+, grades PK+

In Look, a parent and child meander through an autumn day, from breakfast to a market trip, a walk through town and back home. As they go, the child and reader are encouraged to “look.” to tune into their surroundings by sight and find a sense of mindfulness by identifying patterns.

Justification

This book’s layered illustrations drew me in, along with its themes of mindfulness. I am often turned off by the simplicity of some concept books, perhaps to the deficit of my preschooler. While Look provides persistent guidance and practice in pattern recognition, it also offers so much more with text in verse, an engaging visual narrative, and mindfulness practices made approachable for even the youngest audience.

Content

Gabi Snyder’s text is sweet and lyrical. The first page sets the tone for the duality of this book, introducing the idea of pattern recognition, along with the idea that the world can feel big and overwhelming to the intended audience of the book– preschoolers through early elementary readers. She begins: “We are in this VAST world. / And the world is all around– / filled with colors and shapes and sizes./ It can be a lot to take in.” With a down-to-earth charm, Snyder’s text guides readers to slow down and pay attention to their surroundings, finding patterns in unexpected places. She also gently acknowledges how the big world can be confusing and feel like too much, and uses pattern recognition as a grounding tool to turn to in those times.

Illustrations

While Snyder’s text provides the concepts, Samantha Cotterill’s stratified illustrations offer the narrative of parent and child as they move through their day and run errands, find patterns, and appreciate their surroundings. There is so much to find in her busy, vibrant scenes that something new can be found on every read through– I can vouch for this as it became my two-year-old’s favorite for a solid two weeks. Cotterill’s works showcases not only a variety of environmental patterns, but also scenes of shared joy and warmth between the two main characters, culminating in a final nighttime vignette accompanying the comforting closing text, “And the words / I love you. / I love you. / I love you – / a pattern of love, / consistent and sure.”

Snyder, G. (2024). Look, (S. Cotterill, Illus.). Simon & Schuster.

The Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley

 

The Firekeeper’s Daughter

By Angeline Boulley
Walter Award Winner
Ages 14+, grades 9+

Summary

Daunis Fontaine is fresh out of high school and enjoying her last summer before jumping into the university-to-med-school pipeline. Hers hasn’t been an easy road: she’s a biracial anishinaabekwe-- half-Ojibwe woman-- and though she identifies with her native roots and family, she remains an unregistered tribal member due to the scandal surrounding her birth and her father’s death a few years later. More recently her maternal uncle died under mysterious circumstances and her grandmother had a stroke, leaving her single mother the fragile care-taker of a family legacy. These circumstances already have Daunis conflicted about leaving when she meets Jamie, the charming new recruit for her brother’s hockey team. However, deaths begin to pile up around her and she learns there is more to Jamie than she bargained for. Daunis is recruited to help expose a new ring of corruption and drug manufacturing within her community, and in doing so may clarify the circumstance of her uncle’s death. But the opportunity comes with a level of risk and secrecy that Daunis isn’t sure she can navigate within the bounds of her own ethics and commitment to her community.

Justification

I was initially drawn to this book by its breathtaking cover art by Ojibwe artist Moses Lunham. It beautifully reflects Daunis’ internal struggle with her biracial identity through the mirrored face of a native woman, surrounded by indigenous design. The summary called to mind another much older work of Native American YA literature, Monkey Beach, that I enjoyed immensely both for its representation of a culture I am largely unfamiliar with, and for the themes of mysticism therein. Similar themes exist within The Firekeeper’s Daughter, however, they are presented alongside stronger themes of tradition, community, and belonging, as well as darker themes of racism, drug use and addiction, rape, and death. This makes for a more complex, albeit sometimes harder to believe, story than I remember in Monkey Beach, but one that nonetheless offers an engaging and suspenseful narrative within a setting grounded in truth as Angeline Boulley draws on her own Ojibwe upbringing in the story’s site of Sault St. Marie, Michigan.

Response

From the get-go, I appreciated the character of Daunis - she is brilliant-minded and strong (she is described as nearly six feet tall and athletically built), while also showing all the social uncertainties and occasional lapses of logic and judgement appropriate of an 18-year-old in a time of transition. The dialogue feels natural, and shifts appropriately based on the relationship between each set of characters. It is full of dialectical patterns and cultural quirks that Boulley gets to explore from both the Ojibwe and non-indigenous perspectives, as Daunis explores and embraces both parts of herself. I also found it impossible to not relish in the vivid descriptions of Ojibwe culture. The clothing, prayers, music, food, and traditional beliefs presented in the story are described beautifully, conveying a consistent sense of deep meaning and sacredness. Finally, I love that it all tied together into an overarching theme of multigenerational wisdom, support, and belonging alongside that of forging one’s own path in truth.

Boulley, A. (2021). The Firekeeper’s daughter. Henry Holt.

Remembering by Xelena González, illustrated by Adriana M. Garcia

Remembering

By Xelena González

Illustrated by Adriana M. Garcia
Pura Belpre Illustrator Honor Book
Ages 4+, grades PK+

In Remembering, a family reflects on the life of their deceased dog. With poignant text and vibrant illustrations, the story follows a young narrator through their grief, love, and celebration. 

Justificiation

I chose this book from the Pura Belpre Honors list because it reminded me of another children’s book, An Ofrenda for Perro, which is a favorite for our family every fall. The stories are similar in that they depict young children navigating the loss of their pets and finding closure through the Latine tradition of building ofrendas, or altars, for Dia de los Muertos to celebrate the lives of departed loved ones. An Ofrenda for Perro helped me and my young children through the loss of our own dog, and Remembering certainly presents the same affective power. 

Content

The text, which originated as a poem by author Xelena González, is lyrical and tender. It portrays the sorrow of losing a pet in ways that resonate with adults, but still manages to be entirely accessible to young children. Anyone who has loved and lost a furry family member can relate to the emptiness left by their passing, and she captures that in lines like “The house seems empty without you here / So our family fills it with photos and stories until we feel like you are near.” In addition to the poem itself, both the author and illustrator provide strikingly honest notes at the end about the personal experiences that shaped their work on this book. Finally, González offers readers guidance for building their own ofrenda at home. In a time when we see deep division between groups of people, this lovely gesture serves to unite readers by inviting them to share in a meaningful cultural tradition.

Illustration

While the text stands beautifully cathartic on its own and earned significant recognition including School Library Journal Best Books of the Year, Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children's Book Award Nominee, Kirkus Best Picture Books of the Year, and Ezra Jack Keats Finalist; Remembering received the Pura Belpre Honor for its illustrations. Artist Adriana M. Garcia works primarily in murals, and her style carries over into her illustrations as well. The layers of rich color that might appear to blend together smoothly on the side of a building bring depth and texture to her work on the page. I especially love that the dog seems to come alive in each image, stretching beyond the framed pictures through the magic of the young narrator’s memories. Garcia’s lush saturation and dynamic strokes lend an appropriate otherworldliness to her down-to-earth scenes and to González’s story of the family grieving, reminiscing, and celebrating.

González, X. (2023). Remembering (A. Garcia, Illus.). Simon & Schuster.

Iveliz Explains It All by Andrea Beatriz Arango

Iveliz Explains It All

by Andrea Beatriz Arango Novel in Verse Ages 10+, grades 5+ Newberry Honor Book 2023

Summary

Iveliz has become known as both troubled and a trouble-maker, but she is determined to turn things around this year. This bilingual novel-in-verse, presented in diary format, follows the titular character through her seventh-grade school year as she faces the standard junior high obstacles of bullies, school drama, and self-consciousness, as well as some less-standard but incredibly genuine challenges of grief and loss, changing family dynamics, and PTSD. Through one-sided conversations with her journal, Iveliz navigates her own mental illness, that of her grandmother Mimi who moves in with them from Puerto Rico, and discovers what it means to have-- and to be-- a good friend. She eventually learns to speak her truth and advocate for herself, and also to really listen to the voices of those she holds most dear.

Justification

Iveliz Explains It All is formatted as a novel-in-verse, and was a Newberry Honor Book in 2023. I chose this book in part because of its accolades, part because of its reading level (I am seeking more exposure to middle-grade YA literature), and part because it is bilingual. As a bilingual mother of two little kids, we read a lot of bilingual children’s literature in my attempt to ingrain some of that linguistic fluidity in them. Iveliz Explains It All piqued that personal interest, and offers exemplary code-meshing of English and Spanish throughout the book. Arango weaves the two languages through the story with remarkable ease, often offering contextual hints and explanations instead of direct translations for English-only readers to navigate the Spanish text. This maintains a natural rhythm and pace of the writing even when rapidly switching back and forth.

Response

In this debut novel Arango tackles several hard-hitting topics: race, identity, immigration, grief, loss of a parent, generational trauma, mental illness and related stigma to name a few. She does so with notable grace; while some themes are more important to the overall plot than others, none feel as if they get swept under the rug and all are presented as formative parts of Iveliz’s experience. Even with the subject depth, there is also an entertaining air of angsty, awkward humor in the voice of the 12-year-old protagonist. At moments, the two combine to hit a cultural nail directly on the head, like when she becomes understandably irate at the ongoing mispronunciation of her name and that of her best friend, Amir: “Like, hello? / How hard is it to ask kids what they want to be called, / and then learn it?” The book is printed in a handwriting-style font on a notepaper background to evoke the feel of a diary. As an aspiring slam poet Iveliz subscribes to free verse, and responds to her father’s good-natured jeering with “Plus, I’ve read books in verse. / He can’t trick me– / I know there aren’t any rules when it’s a journal / just like there aren’t any rules / when Safia Elhillo or Sarah Kay / Or Mahogany L. Browne steps onstage.” In addition to its occasionally lyrical entries, there are bulleted lists and sketchy illustrations that feel true to pre-teen journal doodles. This approachable story illustrates major struggles in a pre-teen context, as well as the process of learning to manage those struggles with healthy coping mechanisms, honest communication, forgiveness, and the support of loving family and friends.

Arango, A.B. (2022). Iveliz explains it all (A. Bermudez, Illus). Penguin Random House.