Diane Colson

In Laura Tucker’s All the Greys on Greene Street, Ollie, a gifted artist, is content living with her artist parents in a loft in New York City. But then her father leaves for France, accompanied by a woman whom Ollie and her mother playfully nickname “Vooley Voo.” One week later, the playfulness has vanished, and Ollie’s mother will not get out of bed. Ollie strives for normalcy as she attends school, hangs out with her two best guy friends and goes to visit Apollo, her father’s partner in his art restoration business. Due to her mother’s urgent, hushed phone conversations and a desperate man who appears at their door, it becomes apparent that a mystery surrounds Ollie’s father and his departure, which coincided with the disappearance of a valuable piece of art. This is a lot for 12-year-old Ollie to puzzle out, and she becomes fiercely protective of her mother and refuses to accept the truth of her mother’s depression.

There is a beguiling naturalness to Tucker’s depiction of Ollie and her troubles. Ollie is observant and reflective, allowing the reader full access to her emotional upheaval. Her best friends are genuine and loyal but clumsy in their attempts to help. Apollo is kind but distantly adult. Perhaps the most lovely element of the book is the infusion of art: Ollie’s art, rendered in pencil drawings, is sprinkled throughout the book, and there are discussions of art technique, art in museums and, most instructively, the provenance of art displaced by war.

All the Greys on Greene Street is a poignant and well-structured debut novel that’s sure to satisfy young readers.

Twelve-year-old Nisha and her twin, Amil, know little about their mother, who died while giving birth. But Nisha yearns for her nonetheless, and at night, Nisha pours her feelings into her diary entries, which are written as letters to her mother. At first, she writes of daily events such as Amil’s etchings and their father’s long days working as a doctor. But it’s 1947, and India has just won its independence from Britain, and soon Nisha’s life will change in ways she never could have imagined.

India is about to be partitioned into two countries based on religion. India will be for Hindus, while Muslims will live in the new country known as Pakistan. Nisha’s home will be part of Pakistan, and because her father is Hindu, their small family must travel cross-country to India by foot. The toll of the arduous journey is most eloquently expressed through Amil’s physical deterioration rather than an impersonal accounting of miles and terrain, and this process is particularly wrenching for Nisha as her mother was Muslim. Nisha is by nature quiet and reflective, and her diary reveals her deep emotional attunement to her family.

Overall, the important historical and political events that drive The Night Diary are believably muted through the lens of a girl with little exposure to the larger world, making this uniquely personal story similar to other portrayals of young refugees such as Andrea Davis Pinkney’s The Red Pencil.

When a girl is left on the steps of the Mostly Silent Monastery in Washington, D.C., wearing a shirt adorned with a picture of a bicycle, the practical Sister Wanda names her Bicycle.

Living with Sister Wanda and the mostly silent monks, 12-year-old Bicycle has found a contented existence, which reaches near perfection when she rescues a battered bicycle, lovingly dubs it Clunk and spends every spare moment cycling around town. Sister Wanda, worried that Bicycle has no friends, arranges for her to attend a friendship camp. Dismayed, Bicycle plots out a cross-country route to San Francisco to see her cycling idol, Zbig Sienkiewicz, and slips away on trusty Clunk.

Bicycle’s subsequent adventures have a modern fairy-tale charm. She and Clunk encounter a succession of quirky yet good-hearted characters, such as Griffin, a Civil War-era ghost, and the chef Marie Petitchou. Each chapter captures a snapshot of Americana: Bicycle leads a horse to the finish line at the Kentucky Derby, is mowed down by pigs on parade in Missouri and crosses the Continental Divide. Readers willing to suspend disbelief and roll with the silliness are rewarded with an enriched understanding of America’s vast landscapes and more than a couple easy-to-digest life lessons.

This article was originally published in the June 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In Stanley Will Probably Be Fine, the new novel by Sally J. Pla, Stanley is fine, as long as he’s nestled in the reassuring quiet of his room with a stack of comics. Alas, he’s forced to leave his cocoon for the chaos of middle school, where his best friend, Joon, is distancing himself in favor of more adventurous friends. School is often too much sensory stimulation for Stanley, leading to humiliating breakdowns.

Then Stanley and Joon learn of a Trivia Quest to be held in downtown San Diego. Participants solve a series of clues using their comics expertise, and the winners earn VIP passes to Comics Fest, a dream come true for Stanley and Joon. Stanley, with his encyclopedic knowledge of comics, should be an ace partner—but only if he can brave the noise and crowds of the downtown scene.

Stanley is an engaging narrator, ruefully aware of the ways his personal challenges thwart his successful navigation of middle school. The Trivia Quest allows him to make tentative steps toward adapting, even as he would desperately love to hide in his room. Stanley’s friendship with a homeschooled girl, who is dealing with her own poignant circumstances, allows him to develop a kinship with another outlier.

Comics fans and young readers who experience the world more intensely than their peers will love this one.

Diane Colson is the Library Director at City College in Gainesville, Florida.

This article was originally published in the February 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In this companion to her 2009 novel, The Brilliant Fall of Gianna Z, Kate Messner satisfyingly reaffirms her ability to hone in on the concerns of young readers.

Kirby Zigonski Jr. goes by Zig, just like his dad once did. Zig Senior is something of a high roller, and it’s always lots of fun when he’s around. Problem is, he hasn’t been around for over a year. Zig buries his disappointment in a preoccupation with electronics and strong friendships with two girl pals. But Zig’s foreboding that something is wrong proves accurate.

When Zig and his mom are evicted from their apartment, Zig discovers it’s because child support hasn’t been coming for several months. Even when they end up in a homeless shelter, Zig’s mom still isn’t talking about his father’s conspicuous absence, leaving Zig to become obsessed with discovering his whereabouts. This obsession manifests in a conviction that Zig Senior is behind numerous geocaches in the area, and Zig searches these out recklessly.

The characters here are believable, particularly as they are solidly portrayed through the lens of Zig’s middle school-aged sensibilities. Zig’s attempts to hide the shame of his family’s homelessness are realistically poignant. While readers may wonder why Zig’s mother chooses to keep the truth of Zig’s father a secret, it does permit Zig to imagine hopeful explanations, something with which many young readers will identify.

Diane Colson is the Library Director at City College in Gainesville, Florida.