Alice Cary

Mystery & SuspenseMystery

Past Lying

Review by Alice Cary

If you aren’t familiar with Scottish mystery writer Val McDermid, you’re in for a decided treat. Both longtime fans and newcomers alike will be able to jump right into the building suspense of Past Lying, McDermid’s seventh book starring Detective Chief Inspector Karen Pirie.

In April 2020, at the beginning of COVID-19 lockdown, cold case expert Pirie has formed a quarantine bubble in Edinburgh, Scotland, with Detective Sergeant Daisy Mortimer. The pair are living in a flat belonging to Hamish Mackenzie, Pirie’s current romantic interest, is currently in the Scottish Highlands, has bought a gin mill and is busy making hand sanitizer. Everyone’s a bit stir-crazy, including Pirie, who walks outside as much as possible, noting that Edinburgh suddenly feels “like the zombie apocalypse without the zombies.”

Pirie’s entire team is delighted—and increasingly intrigued—when an archivist at the National Library brings a strange document to their attention: an unfinished manuscript by recently deceased crime novelist Jake Stein that may provide clues to the well-publicized but unsolved disappearance of a university student named Lara Hardie. The manuscript bears uncanny similarities to the case, and seems to point to another popular mystery author, Ross McEwan, as the killer. 

It’s the perfect case for lockdown, since the first step is simply to read the manuscript. But soon Pirie and her team are deep into an actual investigation, conducting (socially distanced) interviews and tracking down leads about both authors, as well as the missing student. In the meantime, McDermid has great fun dishing out knowing commentary on writers and literary intrigue. 

Pirie is a probing, astute detective with a heart of gold and a taste for justice, even when she doesn’t get the support she needs from her superiors. Meanwhile, her relationship with Hamish is also on the line, so Pirie has plenty to ponder despite the world being seemingly on hold. Past Lying is another finely plotted Karen Pirie page turner that will leave readers wanting more.

Val McDermid’s Past Lying is another finely plotted Karen Pirie page turner that will leave readers wanting more.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

The New Brownies’ Book

Review by Alice Cary

In homage to a children’s periodical started by scholar and activist W.E.B. Du Bois in 1920, Karida L. Brown, a professor of sociology at Emory University Sociology, and artist Charly Palmer—a husband-and-wife team—have curated an astounding collection celebrating Black joy and creativity. The New Brownies’ Book: A Love Letter to Black Families (Chronicle, $40, 9781797216829) is a large-format treasury of art, short stories, poetry, essays, plays and more, which the authors hope will become “a fixture in the homes of every Black family” and serve “as a strong expression of inspiration, recognition, love, laughter, reflection, and celebration of what we mean to one another.”

The illustrations throughout are eye-catching in color, theme and style, starting with Tokie Rome-Taylor’s mesmerizing cover photograph, Child of God, featuring a young girl dressed in lace and feathers. Chapters are devoted to subjects like family, school, “She’roes” (notable women), living and dying; there is also a section focused on Langston Hughes, who published his first work in the original Brownies’ Book at age 20.

“I feel like his spirit as our ancestor is all over this thing.” Charly Palmer and Karida L. Brown brought together Black creators young and old to create The New Brownies’ Book. 

While many anthologies of this sort tend to focus on young audiences, The New Brownies’ Book is designed to appeal to all ages, from elementary students to adults. The collection does an exceptional job of celebrating both new and old artistic visions by putting them in conversation. For example, one of Langston’s short poems, “Fairies,” is paired with a vibrant illustration from Palmer showing a young Black boy in a shimmering forest, tilting his face upward in a look of profound wonder. The New Brownies’ Book contains numerous homages to the original magazine—including reproductions of early pages and a July 1920 cover—but it also overflows with inspiration from modern sources, such as a bold, energetic portrait of a young man painted by Tyrone Geter.

This treasury inspired by W.E.B. Du Bois acknowledges the past while celebrating modern times with illustrations throughout that are eye-catching in color, theme and style.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Charly Palmer and Karida L. Brown celebrate the children of the sun

Interview by Alice Cary

Very early in their relationship, in March 2017, artist Charly Palmer emailed Karida L. Brown a question: If you were to write a children’s book, what would it be? Brown, who has a doctorate in sociology and is a professor at Emory University, had always adored the Berenstain Bears books. “I thought I was a bear,” she recalls, speaking from their home in Atlanta, Georgia. However, she had another, very different answer for Palmer, explaining that she would love to create a book inspired by W.E.B. Du Bois’s writing for children.

Since graduate school, Brown has called Du Bois her “North Star and guiding light.” In 1920, the NAACP founder began publishing The Brownies’ Book: A Monthly Magazine for Children of the Sun, which circulated for nearly two years. Aimed at Black and brown children ages 6-16, the magazine’s inside cover announced, “DESIGNED FOR ALL CHILDREN BUT ESPECIALLY FOR OURS.”  Brown recalls, “When I first learned about The Brownies’ Book, it shocked me. It really brought me to tears to think that one of the greatest intellectuals of the 20th century, who was so very busy, would take the time out to make this happen.”

Read our starred review of The New Brownies’ Book: A Love Letter to Black Families. 

Now, the couple has turned their email musings into a stunning compendium of art and prose also aimed at young readers. The New Brownies’ Book: A Love Letter to Black Families is a thought-provoking collection filled with 60 stories, poems, essays, songs, photos, comics, plays, illustrations and photographs. They come from a wide variety of Black creators ranging from award-winning illustrators like James Ransome and poet Ntozake Shange to a number of young people—even Zoe Jones, a 5-year-old. In the book’s introduction, Palmer describes them as “an A-team of creative people that shared the same passion and commitment to Black Love.”

After sending out a request for contributions at the beginning of the pandemic, Brown notes, “We got loads of surprises with the submissions—and the range of literary and artistic expression.” For instance, she expected some sort of historical essay from Marcus Anthony Hunter, Ph.D., a UCLA professor. Instead, he sent an astonishing poem, “The Children of the Sun,” which helps introduce the collection. “We really thought that people would stay in their lane and stick to their genres,” Brown says, approving of the fact they did not.

Zoe Jones, the 5-year-old daughter of a friend, wrote a poem called “Kisses Make Things Better (But Sometimes They Don’t).” Two years later, when she saw the poem in the book, she said, “This person has the same name as me”—and she was ecstatic when her mother reminded her that it was indeed, her poem. Wesley Gordon, the 14-year-old son of one of Brown’s colleagues, wrote a powerful essay about the death of his grandfather, “Death Leaves a Scar; Love Leaves Memories.” Brown was impressed and sent him revision suggestions. “We were really intentional that this book should give new writers and artists the opportunity to have their first published work debut alongside some of these creative giants,” Brown explains. “It’s an elevator, in a way. It brings us all up.” In fact, the same was true for the original Brownies’ Book, which featured the first published poems of Langston Hughes (some of which also appear in this new volume).

The wide range of offerings is designed to appeal to many different ages. For instance, “I Don’t Wanna Be Black,” a short story by Shannon Byrd with graphic art from KEEF CROSS, features a young girl encountering difficult racial stories on TV that she doesn’t “quite understand,” but which make her feel “powerless and scared” as well as fearful about her skin color. Her parents’ reassurances—portrayed in dynamic, colorful art—on how proud she should feel about her identity offer an affirming way to address the issue for young readers. Elsewhere, an essay from a Fisk University student discusses the value of her college experiences, while a successful CPA notes the importance of not sacrificing happiness for financial stability.

Some of these stories, you just gotta let it soak. The point is not that the child will comprehend every single nugget. But if the book is on your coffee table, it gets up in your bones, it gets in your spirit. And as you mature, it allows you to explore and tap into the range of human emotions and the human condition through stories and art.

Palmer and Brown emphasize that they wanted this book to be “intergenerational” and encourage conversations among children, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. In The New Brownies’ Book, Palmer includes a portrait of Brown’s Aunt Mary, who often said, when cooking, “You gotta let it soak. When you soak your meat, it’s gonna taste better. Same thing with your mind.” Brown notes, “Some of these stories, you just gotta let it soak. The point is not that the child will comprehend every single nugget. But if the book is on your coffee table, it gets up in your bones, it gets in your spirit. And as you mature, it allows you to explore and tap into the range of human emotions and the human condition through stories and art.”

During his childhood as one of five siblings raised by a single mother, Palmer often found inspiration in biographies of accomplished Black people. “We have a little bit of that woven throughout the book,” he says. One section, “She’roes,” contains the portraits and short biographies of 21 Black women, from Biddy Mason to Aretha Franklin. Palmer adds that he wants readers to know “you all have the potential to be great.” He says, “As much as my subject matter today is of the Black experience, I came to art through the Beatles. I was intrigued by their style of dress and the fact that they looked like they had so much fun. They have really great songs that I still listen to . . . I wanted to try to put on paper what the Beatles made me feel like.” Later on, the writings of James Baldwin made him feel the same way.

If you really look at this book, it isn’t about being Black. It’s about being human, about family love, laws and humor—the threads that connect us all.

This husband-and-wife team would love for their book to be on the coffee table of every Black family in America and around the world, and they have partnered with the nonprofit Page Turners to help distribute The New Brownies’ Book to underserved schools. Palmer notes, “If you really look at this book, it isn’t about being Black. It’s about being human, about family love, laws and humor—the threads that connect us all.”

When asked if they wish Du Bois could see their new book, Brown says, “I feel like his spirit as our ancestor is all over this thing.” She mentions a letter she once read that discussed his desire to restart the Brownies periodical: “It stayed on his mind. So, I know that Du Bois would be so very proud to know that The Brownies’ Book lives on.”

 

 

The spirit of W.E.B. Du Bois lives on in a new anthology by Charly Palmer and Karida L. Brown.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

A gutsy girl in Portland

Interview by Alice Cary

When Renée Watson read her first Ramona Quimby book as a child, she was startled by where Beverly Cleary’s beloved heroine lived: Klickitat Street was just around the corner from Watson’s aunt’s home in Portland, Oregon. “I was so in awe that a character in a book could live in my city and in a neighborhood that I was very familiar with,” Watson remembers. “It was empowering. I didn’t know how to articulate that as a child except to say, ‘I know where she lives.’” From that moment on, whenever Watson visited her aunt, it became a running joke to say, “Ramona is your neighbor.”

Now, as an adult writing for young people, Watson divides her time between Portland and New York. Ways to Build Dreams is the fourth and likely final installment in her middle grade series about Ryan Hart, a lively, inquisitive Black girl who lives in Portland, just like Ramona Quimby. “I see the power in representation,” Watson says, speaking from her Harlem home. “We say that a lot when it comes to race, but I also think where people live and the names of places and the histories of places matter too.”

“The Ryan Hart series is in many ways a love letter to Portland,” Watson continues. “Portland is the perfect balance of city and nature, and I really wanted to highlight that. I’ve done a lot of work critiquing Portland and talking about some of its challenging, harmful issues, but there’s also so much to love.” For instance, in Ways to Build Dreams, Ryan and her family take a day trip driving along the Columbia River, with stops at Latourell Falls and Vista House at Crown Point. Ryan also attends Vernon Elementary, the school Watson attended in real life. “I was trying to model the series after [Beverly Cleary] in that same way of actually naming real places in the city so that young people in Portland could have an anchor and really see their city represented.” (She also features her hometown in several books for older readers, such as Piecing Me Together, which received a Newbery Honor and a Coretta Scott King Award).

“Portland is the perfect balance of city and nature, and I really wanted to highlight that. I’ve done a lot of work critiquing Portland and talking about some of its challenging, harmful issues, but there’s also so much to love.”

Watson remembers that she loved reading about Ramona because “she is not perfect and has flaws and can throw tantrums and feel all of her emotions. At the time, that just felt so freeing because there weren’t a lot of girl characters who could be as bold, feisty and human.” She loosely based Ryan’s personality on that of her goddaughter, who is now 15—and also named Ryan Hart. “In every book I write, the main character’s name is intentional,” Watson notes. “I was just thinking of Ryan as being a more traditional male name and was going to build off of it. But then, as I looked into what her name means, I was like, ‘Oh my goodness, it is just so perfect.’” Ryan means “little king” in Gaelic, and that connotation has become an anchor for every book. “I wanted to make sure that I’m constantly bringing the reader back to this notion of living up to your name or to what your loved ones wish for you,” Watson explains.

While the character named Ryan is an active kid who rides her bike and gets in water balloon fights, Watson notes: “I was not that girl. If we were going to the park, I would be the one who would bring my book with me or my journal, and I would sit under the tree and write poems or read while my friends were playing. I was a quiet and very creative child—very introspective.” Still, Ryan’s family dynamics and adventures, while fictional, are inspired by Watson’s own childhood.

During middle school, Watson was bused to a white school on the other side of town, an experience she described in a moving 1995 essay, “Black Like Me.” One day, her seventh grade science teacher chastised the class for failing a test on which Watson got an A, saying, “And this is why I am so disappointed in all of you. You let Renée Watson come all the way over here from northeast Portland and get a better grade than you in science!” When Watson later pondered that painful moment, she wondered, “What if she had allowed space in her narrative for black children from northeast Portland to be capable of meeting high expectations, of achieving academic success? What if she really saw me?”

Watson answers that question in many ways with the Ryan Hart books, filling them with moments of Black joy and achievement. Ways to Build Dreams begins with Ryan and her classmates working on a group history project about Beatrice Morrow Cannady, a community activist and educator, and the owner of Oregon’s largest Black newspaper—a story Watson had been wanting to explore for some time.

While Watson enjoyed reading about Ramona Quimby, she saw more of a reflection of herself in the poetry of Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni and Gwendolyn Brooks: “Those poets raised me.” She adds that Sandra Cisneros’ novel The House on Mango Street (which is about a Latina girl growing up in Chicago) gave her “permission to write about home in the way that home was for me—a Black neighborhood, Black music, the food, all of that.” She adds, “I’m constantly trying to show young people in my books, ‘Hey, I see you and I know what you are capable of.’”

Watson’s goal is to provide “a nuanced telling of the Black community.” With Ryan Hart, she “leans into the joy more so than the pain.”

“So I do have these cultural moments, but they’re very much tied into these slices of the everydayness of being a Black girl in a city like Portland. . . . Because really, that was my childhood. Yes, there were hardships, but mostly there were family dinners and cookouts and neighbors looking out for me and teachers who loved me. We didn’t have a whole lot of money, but we had a whole lot of love.”

Some of Watson’s favorite scenes occur when Ryan’s grandmother washes and fixes her hair. “In Black culture, it really is a big deal because there’s so much conversation around our hair,” she says. “I wanted to highlight different hairstyles throughout the series, and normalize her getting her hair done and the way in which we do it. Those times I remember as a child were so sacred because you’re spending a lot of time with that person. You have conversations that you might not have [when facing each other]. [These scenes] became such an anchor in each book, where that’s really a breakthrough moment for Ryan. Usually, she’s telling Grandma about something that’s happening that’s not so great, and Grandma gives her some wisdom.”

Watson has always known that the series would end with Ryan graduating from fifth grade, which she does in Ways to Build Dreams. Still, she can’t help being a little sad to have finished the final installment.

Might we see Ryan again, perhaps in books focused on her siblings, Ray or Rose?

“Oh, I’ve never thought about that,” Watson says. “That’s a very good thing to think about.”

Read our starred review of Ways to Build Dreams.

 

Renée Watson celebrates her hometown and leans into Black joy and achievement through her feisty heroine, Ryan Hart.
FictionLiterary FictionComing of Age

Cross-Stitch

Review by Alice Cary

After receiving widespread acclaim for the autobiographical Linea Nigra: An Essay on Pregnancy and Earthquakes, Mexican writer Jazmina Barrera delivers a dreamy yet compelling exploration of female friendship and coming of age in her fiction debut.

In Cross-Stitch, Mila finds her world shattered when she gets word that a childhood friend, Citlali, has drowned in the sea in Senegal. Few details are available about this shocking news, leading Mila to wonder if the death was an accident or suicide. As she organizes Citlali’s memorial service, Mila begins to sift through memories of Citlali and their mutual friend Dalia, whom she hasn’t seen for years. Sewing has long been central to Mila’s life—in fact, she’s just published a book about embroidery—and the three girls often sewed together. Now Mila muses, “I haven’t worked out how to sew and think about Citlali without pricking my fingers.”

Mila and Citlali had a middle school teacher who pointed out “that the words ‘text’ and ‘textile’ had the same root: the Latin texere, to weave, braid, or compose.” Throughout Cross-Stitch, Barrera weaves, braids and composes the story of the trio’s friendship into a plot so convincing and emotionally intelligent that readers may mistake it for a memoir, while seamlessly incorporating intriguing tidbits about the history of embroidery. The notes cover topics ranging from embroidery in ancient Egypt to a recent global campaign using crochet to raise awareness of the destruction of coral reefs due to climate change. Barrera’s prose is insightful and precise, and MacSweeney’s translation conveys a natural, conversational rhythm.

Barrera aptly writes: “While techniques for healing wounds have evolved over the centuries, a needle and thread are still commonly used. Something in the tissues, in the weaves . . . may offer answers to how other wounds can be healed.” As Mila desperately tries to make sense of both their shared history and Citlali’s loss, Cross-Stitch draws readers into the many strands uniting Mila, Dalia and Citlali.

Jazmina Barrera weaves, braids and composes this story of a trio of friends into a plot so convincing and emotionally intelligent that readers may mistake it for a memoir.
NonfictionGraphic Memoirs

I Must Be Dreaming

Review by Alice Cary

New Yorker contributor Roz Chast is among America’s favorite cartoonists, especially since publishing her acclaimed 2016 memoir about her parents’ decline and death, Can’t We Talk About Something More Pleasant? As she notes in I Must Be Dreaming, her dream consciousness is “sometimes irritatingly similar” to her waking consciousness. Cartooning, she says, “sometimes feels dreamish”—a comment paired with a scene of herself at her drawing board, “staring slack-jawed at a blank piece of paper,” trying to come up with an idea. Perhaps it was inevitable that she would write a book about dreams.

Chast dedicates the book to the “Dream District of our brains, that weird and uncolonized area where anything can happen, from the sublime to the mundane to the ridiculous to the off-the-charts bats.” What could be more intimate? I Must Be Dreaming is, of course, personal, but lighthearted and self-deprecating in Chast’s trademark, inimitable style. She illustrates and describes numerous dreams, such as being shirtless on a bus (“No one cares”); living with a sharp-toothed, homicidal baby (“A SWAT team had to be called in”); and her mother somehow owning O.J. Simpson’s famous glove (“That glove belongs in a SAFETY DEPOSIT BOX!”). Chast, as always, is a genius at mining her life for bits she can exaggerate into comic gold, expertly portraying relatable emotions to her reader. In just a few panels, she manages to distill the essence of her “mishmash” of visions while conveying their utter absurdity. “Surprising!” she writes, in a cartoon showing actor Glenn Close “covered with thousands of baby spiders.”

Between the ages of 15 and 17, Chast kept a dream journal; she did so again much later, after her children were grown up, using the latter as fodder for this book. She begins by noting recurring dreams and themes (tooth issues, being pregnant and old) and uses chapters to categorize them (celebrity dreams, nightmares, body horror). A final chapter highlights dream theory, from Freud and Jung to more modern neuroscience, in a way that’s not only informative but also hilarious. She summarizes her own beliefs about dream science into one of her signature pie charts, noting, “To me, a book without a pie chart is hardly a book at all.” I Must Be Dreaming takes Chast’s legion of fans on yet another uproarious, touching and zany ride. If only Chast could illustrate and explain everything, the world would be a much happier, funnier place.

Longtime New Yorker cartoonist Roz Chaste’s I Must Be Dreaming is an uproarious, touching and zany ride.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

Nowhere Special

Review by Alice Cary

“A thin and scrawny thing,” Elpidia has been repeatedly attacked by her female cousins in a family feud that extends to the family’s youngest members. She lives with her Abuela in a trailer and helps out at Abuela’s cantina while dreaming of someday owning a food truck and escaping the barren Southern California desert. Her parents burned down their home and are in prison for drug-related convictions.

Her classmate Stan—the only white kid in their sixth-grade class—is dealing with bullying as well, and is unable to protect himself against his father’s drunken rages. Stan’s mother and Elpidia’s grandmother independently decide that their charges need to learn how to defend themselves, so they take them into the deep desert to learn from Charlie Ramos, a legendary local figure known as “El Escorpion” who teaches a style of Filipino fighting. Nowhere Special will engross readers from start to finish. Before turning to writing, author Matt Wallace was a professional wrestler and instructor in unarmed combat and self-defense. He notes in a content advisory that the book addresses “heavy issues with very personal meanings to me, and I’ve done my absolute best to write about them in a way that will be appropriate for preteen readers.” Characters throughout the novel’s memorable scenes struggle to develop the responsibility and judgment needed to escape a destructive, unending cycle of violence.

Wallace excels at depicting realistic family scenarios, complex moral dilemmas, and good-hearted, but flawed, adults. Nowhere Special offers moments of hope and redemption amidst poverty and great tragedy. Although there are no tidy resolutions, Stan and Elpidia grow empowered and discover the salvation that close friendships can provide. Despite the seemingly insurmountable difficulty of their family and social situations, these protagonists’ dreams feel possible by the end of the book.

Author Matt Wallace excels at depicting realistic family scenarios, complex moral dilemmas, and good-hearted, but flawed, adults.
NonfictionGraphic Novels & Comics

Transitions

Review by Alice Cary

French university researcher Anne Marbot thought she was open-minded, until her 19-year-old child, who was assigned female at birth, announced, “I am a boy.” The news, seemingly out of the blue, hit Anne “like a tidal wave,” sweeping “away the comfort of my tidy little life that I was more or less satisfied with.” Before long, a seemingly insurmountable rift develops between the two. Élodie Durand beautifully recounts Anne’s acceptance of her transgender son, Alex, and their journey back to each other in the exceptional graphic novel Transitions: A Mother’s Journey. It’s a fine follow-up to Durand’s graphic memoir, Parenthesis, which described her own odyssey with tumor-related epilepsy.

“Why does my child’s choice seem so difficult for me to accept?” Anne wonders. As a biologist, she looks to science for answers, finding a multitude of examples showing that “our classical scientific conception of male and female isn’t relevant at all.” Whether documenting the biology of clownfish (all born male), or showing helpful scientific diagrams (a visual guide to the gender spectrum), Durand’s illustrations cut to the chase, conveying Anne and Alex’s angst as they navigate their changing relationship with both themselves and each other. Several effective pages are simply masses of dark scribbles, as Anne becomes overwhelmed by fear, anxiety and grief, while Alex lashes out in anger and self-preservation.

Durand also offers informative examples from biology, history and activism, which provide helpful pacing breaks amid the family’s emotional turmoil. Durand is particularly adept at using splashes of color to convey emotions—for example, Anne repeatedly appears as a splash of pink hair, lost amid a growing black cloud that threatens to consume her. One memorable full-page spread shows Anne behind bars, being strangled by a giant serpent of anxiety. Durand also follows Alex’s gradual acceptance by the rest of his family, including his two younger brothers. In a touching scene, Anne breaks the news to her parents, who are immediately supportive of their grandchild. After three years, Anne not only fully embraces Alex, but also becomes an activist for the trans community. What’s more, she changes the way she teaches science, noting, “When I read back my words, I have trouble relating to who I used to be.”

This powerful memoir brings to mind Iris Gottlieb’s excellent Seeing Gender: An Illustrated Guide to Identity and Expression. Transitions: A Mother’s Journey is a particularly helpful guide that speaks to a wide audience hoping to gain understanding about transgender transitions. The graphic format makes its heavy emotional content accessible, while Durand’s exquisitely paired text and illustrations bring home the power of this revelatory—and increasingly common—story.

Elodie Durand’s exceptional graphic novel recounts a mother’s acceptance of her transgender son and their journey back to each other.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

Ways to Build Dreams

Review by Alice Cary

Renée Watson’s Ryan Hart series demonstrates timeless, universal appeal while examining the worries of all sizes that loom large in its protagonist’s life. It proves Watson—recipient of both a Newbery Honor and a Coretta Scott King Award—to be a more-than-worthy successor to Beverly Cleary, creator of the beloved character Ramona Quimby.

Ryan is a spirited Black girl in Portland, Oregon, trying to find her place in the world. Her parents and grandmother have always told her and her older brother, “You were put on this earth to do something.” In her fourth adventure, Ways to Build Dreams, a fifth-grade assignment on identifying dreams leads Ryan to worry, “Everyone has a big dream except me.”

Watson makes it easy for fans and newcomers alike to plunge into the story of Ryan and her family. Although the novel’s 20 short chapters move briskly along from January to the end of the school year, Watson expertly weaves many plot strands together and balances action with quiet, touching moments of reflection.

“I’m constantly trying to show young people in my books, ‘Hey, I see you and I know what you are capable of.’” Read our interview with Renée Watson. 

At school, Ryan completes a group history project about Beatrice Morrow Cannady, editor of Oregon’s largest Black newspaper, and frets about whether her own goals of being a chef and a good big sister to her baby sister, Rose, are too simple. As Ryan also spends time with her best friends, KiKi—who may go to a different middle school next year—and Amanda, the girls all realize they are growing up. In a spring outing to a tulip farm, they grapple with whether they are too old to get their faces painted. Change is in the air throughout these pages, and Grandma tells Ryan she is “just thinking of all you’re becoming and what lies ahead for you.”

The cast of supportive adults—Ryan’s parents, Grandma and Ryan’s excellent teacher—provide reassurance about dreams big and small. Similarly, Ryan, Rose and their older brother Ray’s sibling relationship is ultimately one of love and encouragement, even if it also includes friendly rivalry and teasing. Elementary school readers will not only be entertained but also readily identify with the sometimes overwhelming sense of change that Ryan faces.

Renée Watson makes it easy for fans and newcomers alike to plunge into the story of Ryan and her family, expertly weaving many plot strands together and balancing action with quiet, touching moments of reflection.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

A Flag for Juneteenth

Review by Alice Cary

When you gaze at the quilted cover of A Flag for Juneteenth, you will want to reach out and touch it. The artwork depicts a girl wearing a fuchsia dress and kerchief standing proudly in front of a flag, the bright colors of her outfit vibrant against the flag’s soft yellows and greens. The girl’s brown face has no features—nor do the faces of any of the book’s characters—because author-illustrator Kim Taylor wants readers to be able to imagine themselves in this story. 

Then you open A Flag for Juneteenth and discover that Taylor quilted all of the illustrations in her debut picture book, and you realize that her textile art perfectly complements her evocative prose, creating an excellent portrayal of Huldah, a Black girl living with her enslaved family on a Texas plantation in 1865.

As the book opens, it’s the morning of Huldah’s 10th birthday. Taylor’s embroidering transforms mottled brown fabrics into textured tea cakes, a special treat baked by Huldah’s mother for her daughter’s birthday. “The scent of nutmeg and vanilla floated through our cabin,” Taylor writes, and her stitched text forms a winding ribbon of words that waft up from the plate as Huldah breathes in the sweet smell. 

Soon, Huldah hears the “loud clip-clippity-clop of heavy horses’ hooves” as soldiers ride onto the plantation. She witnesses their historic announcement: President Abraham Lincoln has freed all enslaved people! Taylor emphasizes the importance of this declaration by placing a lone soldier onto a white quilted background. She embroiders the proclamation that he reads “in a booming voice,” forming four lines of text that radiate from his figure.

Elation follows, and Huldah hears shouting and singing. Images of celebration feature the outlines of surprised, ecstatic people jumping and raising their hands in the air for joy. Taylor sets their multicolor silhouettes against gentle yellow-orange ombre fabric that’s quilted with sunburst lines, as though the people have been caught up in rays of light. 

Huldah watches as a group of women begins to sew freedom flags. Children gather branches to use as flagpoles, but Huldah goes one step further. She climbs her favorite tree and captures a sunbeam in a glass jar, preserving this extraordinary moment in time forever.

Juneteenth became a federal holiday in 2021, and A Flag for Juneteenth exquisitely conveys the day’s spirit of jubilation and freedom.

Read our Q&A with ‘A Flag for Juneteenth’ author-illustrator Kim Taylor.

Kim Taylor’s portrayal of a girl witnessing the first Juneteenth, accompanied by exquisite quilted artwork, is filled with a spirit of jubilation and freedom.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

An American Story

Review by Alice Cary

A powerful picture book about the transatlantic slave trade, Kwame Alexander and Dare Coulter’s An American Story opens with a question: “How do you tell a story that starts in Africa and ends in horror?” It might seem an impossible topic to teach children, and yet, as the book’s title suggests, it’s an essential part of our national origin story.

Alexander and Coulter approach the subject by interspersing historical information with scenes of a group of students and their teacher discussing these events in a modern-day classroom. For instance, after Alexander offers a list of types of work that enslaved people were forced to do “FOR FREE,” such as “planting corn” and “harvesting coffee,” a student responds, “Why weren’t they paid? That’s not fair.” 

Coulter’s artwork, nearly six years in the making, is striking and exceptional. In addition to charcoal sketches (which illustrate the contemporary scenes) and rich, full-color paintings, Coulter created clay sculptures of enslaved people, which he then photographed and incorporated into the book’s illustrations, bringing remarkable dimensionality to the book’s art.

It’s impossible to overstate how impactful Coulter’s illustrations can be. They convey the joy of children playing games around a glowing fire and the peace of lying down to rest among long blades of green grass, but also the terror and sadness of people shackled together in the holds of ships and the suffering of a man with a rope around his neck, “sold like cattle” away from his family. 

In fact, the classroom teacher becomes overwhelmed by the lesson. “It’s just too painful,” she tells her students. “I shouldn’t have to read this to you.” Her interjection serves as a helpful pause for readers, allowing them to consider what they’ve read and process their own reactions to it. It also marks the book’s turning point. “Don’t you tell us to always speak the truth,” a student asks, “even when it’s hard?” The text then highlights people who exemplify “speaking up and speaking out” such as Sojourner Truth and Robert Smalls.

An American Story closes with a glorious spread that merges the art styles of past and present, as a clay-sculpture woman places her hand under the chin of a sketched student. In the text, the teacher’s final question (“How do you tell a story this hard to hear, one that hurts and still loves?”) gets its powerful answer: “by holding history in one hand and clenching hope in the other.” Coulter places all of his sketches on yellow backgrounds, and in this pivotal moment, the backdrop takes on a brilliant, radiant glow.

An American Story will not be an easy book to read, and adults should take care when introducing it to very young children. Nonetheless, its pages are filled with needful truths. Alexander’s sensitive, poetic text and Coulter’s majestic art provide a stellar framework for young Americans to learn about their country’s history.

An American Story provides a stellar framework for young Americans ready to learn about an essential part of our national origin story.
NonfictionNatureMemoirFood & Drink

Fieldwork

Review by Alice Cary

Occasionally, a book appears like a shimmering treasure stumbled upon during a forest walk. This is certainly the case with Iliana Regan’s memoir Fieldwork: A Forager’s Memoir. Her first book, Burn the Place, was a finalist for the National Book Award, chronicling growing up gay on an Indiana farm and creating her own Michelin-starred restaurant in Chicago. In both memoirs, Regan is a hypnotizing writer who speaks to readers in a deeply personal way, writing in a natural voice that artfully interweaves past and present.

Regan’s exquisite, carefully planned prose paradoxically feels like a casual chat, the sort that might unfold spontaneously during a long weekend visit. As it turns out, some very lucky people can experience exactly that, because in 2020, Regan turned over her restaurant, Elizabeth, to her employees, and now she and her wife run the Milkweed Inn bed and breakfast in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Deep in the Hiawatha National Forest, 10 guests are treated to Regan’s culinary magic each weekend. During that time, Regan hopes they will experience something similar to the “magic of the farmhouse I grew up in.”

Fieldwork invites readers into this world, as Regan explores and forages in the nearby forest and river for food to use in meals at the inn. She also forages in her own mind for childhood memories, including those of her beloved parents and her grandmother Busia, a gifted cook who emigrated from Poland. Busia’s duck blood soup, or czarnina, exists in the author’s memories as a sort of magical potion, something akin to Marcel Proust’s madeleines. Regan also shares her ongoing struggles with recovering from alcoholism, the difficulties of running an inn during the COVID-19 pandemic, her fears of losing her parents, her anxieties about the world and her desire and attempts to become a parent. Alongside these thoughts, she captures the great beauty and comfort of the outdoors with the voice of a naturalist.

Regan has led an intriguing, unusual life, which gives her memoir a unique and compelling perspective. She notes, for instance, “Sometimes I think I would still like to be a man because I don’t feel like a woman. But I don’t feel like a man either. I feel more akin to a mushroom.” With both Burn the Place and Fieldwork, Regan has earned her place as not only a world-class chef but also a gifted memoirist.

As Iliana Regan forages in the forest for food to use in the meals she serves at her inn, she also forages in her own mind for shimmering, moving childhood memories.
FictionHistorical Fiction

Hungry Ghosts

Review by Alice Cary

Set in Trinidad in the 1940s, Kevin Jared Hosein’s debut novel, Hungry Ghosts, has the mesmerizing power of a tale told on a bone-chilling night. A science teacher living in Trinidad and Tobago, Hosein explains in his author’s note that he drew on Caribbean oral traditions of “ghost stories and dark domestic parables and calcified wisdoms rooted in the bedrock of an island nation.” Inspired by his grandfather’s stories in particular, Hosein captures Trinidad’s lush flora and fauna, as well as its explosive mix of cultures, races and religions, within a novel that slowly but steadily builds toward a climax of Shakespearean proportions. 

In the opening chapter, titled “A Gate to Hell,” readers meet four teenage boys performing a blood oath by a river. They name their union “Corbeau, for the vulture, a carrion feeder,” because the bird “must eat corpses for breakfast, knowing to savour bowels and maggoty flesh, realizing those too are meals fit for kings.” At the heart of the novel is the family of one of these boys, Krishna Saroop. They live in a sugar cane estate barrack, one of many “scattered like half-buried bones across the plain, strewn from their colonial corpse.” The barrack is a “place of lesser lives,” with a yard for communal cooking and five tiny adjacent rooms that house five families who can hear everyone’s sounds and feel the rain dripping through their shared, dilapidated roof. Krishna’s parents are mourning the death of their infant daughter, and his mother, Shweta, prays they can soon buy their own home in the nearby village. 

Krishna’s father, Hans, works just up on the hill on the grand estate of Dalton Changoor and his younger wife, Marlee. Their opulent manor is filled with goose-feather cushions and velveteen rugs, and from their box radio drift the sounds of Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman. One stormy night, Dalton vanishes. Marlee, understandably fearful for her safety, asks kindhearted, fit Hans—with whom she is infatuated—to be her night watchman. It’s an epic setup for a collision of poverty and wealth.

Hosein excels at setting this volatile stage and letting events simmer. Along the way, he delicately explores the often tortured backgrounds of numerous characters in his large cast, revealing their motives and desires. But the heart of Hungry Ghosts is haunted. It’s bleak and visceral, with brutal details of violence and animal cruelty. Readers will long remember this one.

Kevin Jared Hosein captures Trinidad’s lush flora and fauna, as well as its explosive mix of cultures, races and religions, within a novel that slowly but steadily builds toward a climax of Shakespearean proportions.

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