Emily Koch

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When Abby Lai was young, she wished for a sibling to play with. Her parents granted her wish . . . four times over. Now the oldest of five, 12-year-old Abby tries to spend as much time outside her house as possible. After all, as she says in the epigraph of Chickenpox, “Younger siblings are like viruses. They’re tiny, and they can make you sick.” 

But then Abby is the one to accidentally bring a virus into her home, by having one of her best friends come over to play and unknowingly infect the household with chickenpox. Soon enough, all five siblings have caught it. The only thing that makes Abby’s skin crawl more than her inevitable rash is the thought of being in quarantine with her siblings for the next 10 days. 

Chickenpox is award-winning author and illustrator Remy Lai’s first semi-autobiographical work, following several acclaimed graphic novels such as Pawcasso and Ghost Book. Lai made the unique decision to write from her big sister’s point of view, acknowledging in an author’s note, “I could only write this book as an adult because it took me growing up to understand, empathize, and appreciate the things my sisters did and felt.” Her portrayal of her sister as a funny, anxious, sweet and headstrong main character carries a love for Abby that readers are sure to catch, leaving them hoping that Lai will tell more stories about her siblings.

Lai’s illustrations shine as always, with many hilarious metaphors drawn in, and vibrant backgrounds and expressive characters to emphasize the intense emotions that come with being a kid approaching adolescence. Lai clues present-day young people in to what life was like in Indonesia in 1994 through historically accurate details accompanied by occasional parenthetical additions that provide crucial information, such as how a home’s telephones all run on the same line.

This graphic novel is the perfect blend of the friend drama of The Tryout by Christina Soontornvat and the family drama in Twins by Varian Johnson. Laughter about the Lai siblings’ antics will be as contagious as chickenpox was in the ’90s! 

 

Laughter about the Lai siblings' antics in Remy Lai’s semi-autobiographical novel Chickenpox will be as contagious as chickenpox was in the '90s.
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Imagine a future in which no one ever sees the sky, and water is so toxic that even a drop can cause an infection deadly enough to require an amputation. Basam, Mustafa and Aarfah, three teenage engineers, live at the bottom of Muqadas, a city that is vertically stacked on top of itself and surrounded by water that causes an infection called Habar. Life improves the higher up one lives in Muqadas, so the trio is trying to finish their invention of an advanced prosthetic limb, which they hope will grant them opportunities to ascend to the upper tiers of the city. 

When they succeed, they are given the chance to move up a tier with their families. But not long after, they start to notice the inequities and injustices of their society, and part of the group begins to question their dreams of leaving their home. Will they hold their resolve to get to the top together, and try from there to make a difference for the lower levels?

Though Thief of the Heights is her first book geared toward young adults, Son M. is well-versed in gripping narratives, having previously written for Dark Horse and DC Comics, among others. Her storytelling is excellent,  seamlessly weaving elements of Algerian and Islamic culture into this dynamic world.

Debut illustrator Robin Yao brings M.’s worldbuilding to life through their vibrant and dynamic artwork. All the characters are compellingly and uniquely designed. Emotions are easily discerned, with intense moments illustrated in monochrome shades that match the severity of the mood. Foreshadowing is sprinkled throughout the narrative and illustrations in equal measure.

While throwing a reader into a dystopian world with little context is a compelling narrative device, it may leave the reader with a simple desire for more: More time with each trio member, more time for exploring the relationships between them, and more insight into what this world will look like past the book’s last page. The ending is abrupt, but that may be the point, suggesting that it is up to us to imagine the future beyond.

Still, Thief of the Heights is extraordinary: a suspenseful, emotional sci-fi fantasy graphic novel.

Thief of the Heights is extraordinary: a suspenseful, emotional sci-fi fantasy graphic novel.
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Twelve-year-old Charley Cuffey loves a few things: her Nana Kofi and his stories; correcting the grammar of her best friend, Cool Willie Green; and above all else, baseball. She has been obsessed since her daddy took her to see a Negro Leagues game, and is determined to be the first woman to be a professional baseball player—a big goal for anyone, but even more so for a Black girl living through segregation. When she challenges a bully to a game that takes them into the white part of town, she faces consequences that extend beyond baseball.

Newbery Medalist Kwame Alexander’s Black Star is the gripping second book of what is sure to be an impactful trilogy. The bestselling first installment, The Door of No Return, centered on Kofi, a tween living in Ghana during the 1860s, who loves swimming and his own nana’s stories. His story ended with him facing an unknown fate. This sequel jumps forward to segregated Virginia in the 1920s, where Kofi is a storytelling nana himself, slowly revealing the gaps of his life as he shares them with his granddaughter, Charley.

Alexander has found a magic formula in his verse novels featuring protagonists whose lives revolve around a sport: Their love of the game keeps the plot moving forward and offers a plethora of potential for metaphor. Charley is a vibrant and creative narrator, full of important questions for her Nana, and excellent hyperbole like “it’s so quiet / I can hear the moon.” Alexander uses every aspect of his poems to his advantage. For example, a striking chapter features poems whose titles all begin with “Fifth Sunday,” showing just how significant this big game day is to Charley.

As in The Door of No Return, a significant theme throughout Black Star is the power of storytelling. In an author’s note, Alexander explains his dedication to portraying Black history accurately. He highlights real historical events through actual poetry and information about public figures from that time, but maintains focus on the stories “about the regular families that lived, laughed, loved, danced, worked, failed, hoped, cried, and died just like everybody else.”

Readers continuing the series, as well as those starting with Black Star, will be gifted with a reading experience that is equal parts difficult and beautiful. All will be called to remember Nana Kofi’s wisdom, that “when we water our words, they grow our minds.”

 

Readers continuing Kwame Alexander’s Door of No Return trilogy, as well as those starting with Black Star, will be gifted with a reading experience that is equal parts difficult and beautiful.
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Countless readers have picked up The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn since it was published in 1885, and it’s commonly listed among the great American novels. Though the book is perennially popular, its author, Mark Twain, has been criticized for relying on racist caricatures when writing about Black Americans, particularly the character Jim, an enslaved Black man who travels with Huckleberry Finn in the book.

Big Jim and the White Boy by David F. Walker and Marcus Kwame Anderson offers the other side of the story of this American classic. The graphic novel retelling centers on Jim and his quest to reunite with his family after they have been sold away by Huck’s cruel and volatile father. Aided by the audacious Huck, Jim undertakes an epic journey across the antebellum South and Midwest. Interwoven with the narrative are glimpses of the elderly Jim telling his story to a group of his great-grandchildren in the 1930s, and flashes further forward in time to the 1980s and 2020s as his descendants in turn pass on the tale.

Walker and Anderson have collaborated before, on the Eisner Award-winning The Black Panther Party: A Graphic Novel History. Walker’s passion for storytelling shines through his prose, with humor and wisdom thoughtfully sprinkled into a narrative that is also realistic about the horrors of slavery. An author’s note explains the linguistic choices he made to humanize Jim while remaining authentic to the time period.

Anderson’s illustrations are distinctive and his attention to detail is impressive: His characters are recognizable at any age. Vibrant color palettes by Isabell Struble will also help readers easily distinguish between the various timelines. The choice to frame the story as being told by an old and bickering Jim and Huck in the 1930s will make readers feel like part of the enthralled in-person audience, and demonstrates the power of oral storytelling in recording Black history.

This phenomenal graphic novel doesn’t set out to replace The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, but to add immeasurably valuable context that has historically been left out. Jim’s story deserves to be told, and as Jim’s great-great-great-granddaughter says, “The story won’t tell itself.”

Big Jim and the White Boy is a phenomenal graphic novel retelling of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from Jim’s perspective, adding immeasurably valuable context and celebrating the power of oral storytelling.
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Felix Powell isn’t like most 8-year-olds. When his Nan gives him $5 to spend on anything at a thrift shop, he is drawn toward an old blanket. Additionally, he can communicate with his dog, the phenomenally named Mary Puppins. After he and Puppins try everything they can think of to discover the blanket’s secret magic, they decide to play a game: Can You Free Felix From the Blanket While He Holds On as Tight as He Can? But when the blanket comes off, it’s not Felix the Human Boy hiding underneath. Suddenly, he’s transformed into Felix Powell, Boy Dog!

Felix and Puppins proceed to have a day filled with learning all about being a dog, from bickering with the local stray cat, Gumbo, to learning how to “sweetface” and do “nice-thoughting” with Puppins. But as it gets closer to dinner time, Felix begins to worry how he is going to turn back into a boy. Can he get Gumbo to share the secret she seems to be holding in? Or will his Nan find two dogs when she goes outside to look for Felix?

Newbery Medalist Erin Entrada Kelly’s Felix Powell, Boy Dog is a heartwarming and hilarious opening to a planned series of illustrated chapter books. Felix is also friends with Marisol from Kelly’s previous Maybe Marisol series. New and returning fans will delight at how Kelly tiptoes into fantasy to answer a question many have surely pondered: What is it like to be a dog?

Black-and-white illustrations are equal parts adorable and entertaining, and sure to satisfy voracious graphic novel readers. Here Kelly leans into graphic novel elements, with entire sections of comic-style storytelling. Kelly’s books stand out because of her attention to detail and hidden Easter eggs. For example, in an illustration of a bookshelf at the thrift shop, a lot of the titles are books from Felix Powell, Boy Dog’s imprint, Greenwillow.

Sweet lessons about compassion, as well as copious animal facts, are sprinkled throughout. Reluctant and eager young readers alike will enjoy getting to know Felix and will anxiously imagine what animal he might change into next.

Reluctant and eager young readers alike will enjoy getting to know Felix Powell, Boy Dog, and will anxiously imagine what animal he might change into next.
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Newbery Medalist Erin Entrada Kelly is having a big year. Following the March publication of her eighth middle grade novel, The First State of Being, she’s releasing a new illustrated chapter book, Felix Powell, Boy Dog. Fans of Kelly’s previous chapter book series featuring Marisol Rainey will instantly recognize Marisol’s friend, Felix Powell, and both new and returning readers will delight in how Kelly leans into magical realism as she plays out a fantasy many have likely had: What is it like to be a dog?

““I really wanted to explore more of Felix’s world and I just thought it would be fun if he, and by extension readers, could experience what it’s like to be a dog,” says Kelly.Early on in Felix Powell, Boy Dog, Felix and his dog, Mary Puppins, are playing with a blanket he picked out at a thrift shop, when the blanket transforms Felix into a dog. Kelly admits, “When I was a kid, I always daydreamed about being a bird, and I still kind of do!”

Kelly calls writing for younger middle grade readers “palate cleanser” projects, explaining that there are “all kinds of complications of being a middle schooler, and Felix is only 8 years old. It was nice to live in that 8-year-old world where they’re still very full of wonder.” But sheestablishes early on that Felix isn’t like most 8-year-olds, either in words or actions. To start, he can speak to Mary Puppins even before turning into a dog himself.

Kelly loves writing about kids who aren’t like others because “I think that one of the hardest parts of childhood is when you feel like you’re different from everyone else.” She recognizes that, especially in school, “difference is not always treated with the respect, compassion and excitement that it should be. It brings me joy to be able to write about kids who do feel a little different, in whatever way they feel different, because it’s like writing a letter to my young self and . . . to all kids who feel like they don’t quite fit. It’s celebrating young people who go against the grain because those are the people who will change the world later.”

Kelly spends a lot of time imagining her readers, and she recognizes the importance of “representing all different kinds of family dynamics.” In the book, she beautifully and simply explains that “Felix’s mom couldn’t take care of him anymore, so Nan adopted him.” Kelly says, “It makes me happy to think there might be a kid reading it who lives with their grandmother or grandparents and thinks, ‘Oh, I live with my grandparents too!’ Just that moment of connection, even if it’s like one second as they’re reading the book, is so important, because the more connections we can make like that, the more impact we have on children’s lives.”

Kelly has a unique way of thinking that transfers over to her characters. In an intense emotional moment, Felix describes his rising frustration as feeling like a “human boy with a grumpy mechanic in his body, turning his gears.” Kelly says that came from her own childhood imagination: “I was so curious about how my body worked, and of course, I didn’t understand all the science behind it. So I would imagine there are these little workers in my body, and they were grinding the gears and pushing out the tears and making me laugh and making me eat.” Although cushioned with humor, the scene presents a very real example of how emotions can get the better of us, which is Kelly’s way of offering a moment for readers to know that they’re not alone in saying “things they don’t mean when they’re angry or frustrated.”

“Just that moment of connection, even if it’s like one second as they’re reading the book, is so important.”

Her love of dogs is apparent throughout Felix Powell, Boy Dog. She explains that a lot of the book “came from observing my dogs. I used to actually be on the board of the Humane Society of Southwest Louisiana,” and it was an easy choice for her when it came to picking what animal Felix should turn into in this book. “I just find them to be fascinating and, in many ways, perfect little creatures, in my mind anyway.” However, she teases, “my hope is that it continues as a series as he changes into various [other] everyday animals.”

As an author who writes a lot of varying books within the juvenile fiction classification, working on something for younger readers is what Kelly calls a “palate cleanser” to working on her upper middle grade books. She says there are “all kinds of complications of being a middle schooler, and Felix is only 8 years old. It was nice to live in that 8-year-old world where they’re still very full of wonder.”

Kelly also enjoys illustrating her own books—as she did with Felix Powell, Boy Dog—because it “activates a different part of my brain.” Kelly goes one step further by also incorporating graphic novel elements into Felix Powell, Boy Dog: For example, when Felix is telling the story of meeting Puppins, the prose narrative shifts into comic strips that add special emphasis to this “best day of his life” and highlight Puppins—amid a crowd of dogs who all had names—as an unnamed puppy with whom Felix connected right away. Right now, “young readers can’t quite get enough of graphic novels. So I wanted to be able to marry the traditional chapter book with the celebration of graphic novels that we have right now.” She hopes that both the kids who resist reading prose novels, and the parents who resist letting their kids read graphic novels, will be happy to pick this book up.

“I wanted to be able to marry the traditional chapter book with the celebration of graphic novels that we have right now.”

Of course, one wonders if Kelly will ever take the plunge and write a full graphic novel. “I used to say ‘Oh no, I couldn’t draw an entire graphic novel,’ but actually, writing Felix showed me that maybe I could, if I got the right idea.” Kelly admits. “Never say never, huh?”

The award-winning author and illustrator’s latest middle grade novel explores a common daydream: living life as a dog.
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STARRED REVIEW

September 29, 2021

2 young adult graphics to celebrate Pride

In these books, Molly Knox Ostertag and Theo Parish combine expressive art and writing to offer poignant explorations of LGBTQ+ identity, relationships and self-acceptance.

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Magdalena Herrera has a lot of responsibilities. On top of trying to finish high school, she works a part-time job and is the sole caregiver for her grandmother. Mags has a lot of secrets as well. She’s hooking up with a girl who has a boyfriend. And every night she disappears down a trapdoor in her house, and emerges drained in more than one way.

Then her childhood best friend, Nessa, shows up for the first time in a decade, and starts asking questions the Herreras don’t want anyone to ask. What’s more, Nessa is stirring up feelings that Mags long ago accepted people in her family can never have. But Nessa has secrets, too, and the girls are about to learn the hard way that secrets thrive best in the dark.

The Deep Dark is a moving and eerie graphic novel exploring identity, generational trauma and queer love. Molly Knox Ostertag takes the successful elements of her previous books, The Girl From the Sea and The Witch Boy trilogy, and elevates them. Her characters are complex and nuanced, and their dialogue is natural and impassioned. Ostertag expertly interweaves magical realism and mystery into what is also an adorable love story.

The art is stunning, with expressive characters and the beautiful setting of the Southern California desert. Ostertag twists typical comic conventions, coloring the present almost exclusively in black and white, while the flashbacks are in full color, making it apparent that Mags’ life has been in shades of gray since Nessa left. Page gutters are black during night scenes, intensifying the creepiness. Throughout, Ostertag’s dynamic illustrations elicit emotional responses; for example, panels get progressively smaller during a moment of panic, literally creating tunnel vision.

The Deep Dark leaves some questions unanswered, but that’s the point: A conflict as intricate as the one in this story cannot be wrapped up neatly. But as Ostertag discusses in her author’s note, this graphic novel follows the “first careful steps of unraveling,” and you’ll root for Mags and Nessa to keep taking those steps.

The Deep Dark is a moving and eerie graphic novel exploring identity, generational trauma and queer love.
Review by

Theo remembers feeling uncomfortable with how the world saw them from a very young age. Frustrations built up, from boys assuming that they couldn’t play chess to being forced to cut their own hair because hairdressers always insisted on more feminine looks. But experiences in art school, at comic-cons and playing tabletop roleplaying games, plus countless searches on the internet, led Theo to realize they feel most at home identifying as nonbinary.

Homebody, by debut author Theo Parish, is a delightful, beautiful graphic memoir celebrating the journey they took to discover their gender identity. Reading it feels like receiving a warm hug. Parish dedicates Homebody “for you, whenever and however you need it,” offering frequently interspersed epiphanies anyone can hold on to, such as “living authentically in a world that takes every opportunity . . . to squeeze you uncomfortably into a box of someone else’s design . . . is the most radical act of self love.”

Parish generates gorgeous imagery through a color palette of pinks and blues, sometimes blending the colors together. Shades of joyful pink illustrate Theo’s moments of gender euphoria. The most striking time Parish uses purple is in a full-page introspection about moments when they felt . Throughout the memoir, Theo is drawn with a literal house for their body, as an extended metaphor that is both powerful and charming.

This title truly matches the sweet nature and adorable, expressive illustrations of Alice Oseman’s Heartstopper, while being exceptional in its own way as a nonfiction offering. On the first page, Parish lists facts about their life before even mentioning that they’re nonbinary: In this vein, while Parish includes musings concerning general transgender and nonbinary identity, Homebody is first and foremost a memoir centered around Parish’s specific coming of age in England. Still, through this deeply personal exploration of gender identity, many who traditionally have been left out of narrative storytelling may see their own experiences reflected, as Parish “[shines] a beacon of hope to those yet to flourish.”

 

Homebody is a delightful, beautiful graphic memoir celebrating the journey Theo Parish took to discover their gender identity.

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In these two graphic novels, Theo Parish and Molly Knox Ostertag combine expressive art and writing to offer poignant explorations of LGBTQ+ identity, relationships and self-acceptance.
Review by

Theo remembers feeling uncomfortable with how the world saw them from a very young age. Frustrations built up, from boys assuming that they couldn’t play chess to being forced to cut their own hair because hairdressers always insisted on more feminine looks. But experiences in art school, at comic-cons and playing tabletop roleplaying games, plus countless searches on the internet, led Theo to realize they feel most at home identifying as nonbinary.

Homebody, by debut author Theo Parish, is a delightful, beautiful graphic memoir celebrating the journey they took to discover their gender identity. Reading it feels like receiving a warm hug. Parish dedicates Homebody “for you, whenever and however you need it,” offering frequently interspersed epiphanies anyone can hold on to, such as “living authentically in a world that takes every opportunity . . . to squeeze you uncomfortably into a box of someone else’s design . . . is the most radical act of self love.”

Parish generates gorgeous imagery through a color palette of pinks and blues, sometimes blending the colors together. Shades of joyful pink illustrate Theo’s moments of gender euphoria. The most striking time Parish uses purple is in a full-page introspection about moments when they felt . Throughout the memoir, Theo is drawn with a literal house for their body, as an extended metaphor that is both powerful and charming.

This title truly matches the sweet nature and adorable, expressive illustrations of Alice Oseman’s Heartstopper, while being exceptional in its own way as a nonfiction offering. On the first page, Parish lists facts about their life before even mentioning that they’re nonbinary: In this vein, while Parish includes musings concerning general transgender and nonbinary identity, Homebody is first and foremost a memoir centered around Parish’s specific coming of age in England. Still, through this deeply personal exploration of gender identity, many who traditionally have been left out of narrative storytelling may see their own experiences reflected, as Parish “[shines] a beacon of hope to those yet to flourish.”

 

Homebody is a delightful, beautiful graphic memoir celebrating the journey Theo Parish took to discover their gender identity.
Review by

Magdalena Herrera has a lot of responsibilities. On top of trying to finish high school, she works a part-time job and is the sole caregiver for her grandmother. Mags has a lot of secrets as well. She’s hooking up with a girl who has a boyfriend. And every night she disappears down a trapdoor in her house, and emerges drained in more than one way.

Then her childhood best friend, Nessa, shows up for the first time in a decade, and starts asking questions the Herreras don’t want anyone to ask. What’s more, Nessa is stirring up feelings that Mags long ago accepted people in her family can never have. But Nessa has secrets, too, and the girls are about to learn the hard way that secrets thrive best in the dark.

The Deep Dark is a moving and eerie graphic novel exploring identity, generational trauma and queer love. Molly Knox Ostertag takes the successful elements of her previous books, The Girl From the Sea and The Witch Boy trilogy, and elevates them. Her characters are complex and nuanced, and their dialogue is natural and impassioned. Ostertag expertly interweaves magical realism and mystery into what is also an adorable love story.

The art is stunning, with expressive characters and the beautiful setting of the Southern California desert. Ostertag twists typical comic conventions, coloring the present almost exclusively in black and white, while the flashbacks are in full color, making it apparent that Mags’ life has been in shades of gray since Nessa left. Page gutters are black during night scenes, intensifying the creepiness. Throughout, Ostertag’s dynamic illustrations elicit emotional responses; for example, panels get progressively smaller during a moment of panic, literally creating tunnel vision.

The Deep Dark leaves some questions unanswered, but that’s the point: A conflict as intricate as the one in this story cannot be wrapped up neatly. But as Ostertag discusses in her author’s note, this graphic novel follows the “first careful steps of unraveling,” and you’ll root for Mags and Nessa to keep taking those steps.

The Deep Dark is a moving and eerie graphic novel exploring identity, generational trauma and queer love.
Review by

“Who invented love, anyway?” Elio Solis wonders as he starts to see ultraviolet colors whenever his classmate, Camelia, is around. Eighth grade has been full of changes, both inside, where his emotions run wild, and outside, where it seems like all his guy friends talk about is girls. “The hormones were poppin’ / I mean, everyone was down bad!”

The adults in his life are giving Elio mixed messages about how to be a man: His dad tells him that the Solis way is to be macho and “suck it up,” while his mom is trying to teach him feminist values. Then betrayal strikes, and suddenly the only color Elio can see is red.

Award-winning author Aida Salazar’s previous middle grade novel-in-verse about puberty, The Moon Within, featured a Latina girl. In a letter to the reader, Salazar reveals that Ultraviolet came about because her tween son and his friend asked her to write a similar story that reflected their experiences with “puberty, first crushes, gender and rites of passages” as cisgender Latino boys. And she delivers.

Salazar’s verse is captivating, with the imagery of the text heightening when Elio’s emotions rise. Maintaining a conversational tone sprinkled with mentions of farts and boogers to entertain, she also loads in similes like “A collision of feelings / blisters me / like molten lava” to illustrate the dual nature of being an awkward but thoughtful young person. Goofy pop-culture references, such as a video game called “Mindcrack” (referencing Minecraft), and an alpha male-type social media influencer who is never named, are easily recognizable. 

Commenting on topics that range from patriarchy to colonialism, the internet to peer pressure, and first loves to heartbreaks, Salazar delivers a fully intersectional look at what it means to try to embody masculinity without toxicity. She filled a gap she saw in middle grade literature, and countless readers will see themselves in the pages, regardless of race or gender, but especially Latino boys. 

Commenting on topics that range from patriarchy to colonialism, the internet to peer pressure, and first loves to heartbreaks, Aida Salazar delivers a fully intersectional look at what it means to try to embody masculinity without toxicity.
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To say Michael Rosario is anxious about Y2K would be an understatement. It’s August, 1999, and the 12-year-old boy is convinced that incalculable issues will arise when all internal program systems reset to the year 00. He’s stockpiling stolen canned goods under his bed so that he can provide for his single mom when society crumbles at the start of the new millennium. 

The only thing that can distract Michael from his anxieties is his crush on his 15-year-old babysitter, Gibby—that is, until Michael and Gibby find a mysterious boy named Ridge outside their apartment complex. Ridge claims to be the world’s first time-traveler and proves it with a futuristic book detailing the next 20 years. While Ridge marvels at 1999 culture and tries to convince Gibby to take him to the mall, Michael starts concocting a plan to steal Ridge’s book so he can find out what will happen with Y2K.

The First State of Being by Newbery Medalist and bestselling author Erin Entrada Kelly is an exciting tale about friendship that blends historical and science fiction. Short chapters build tension as Michael’s morality is tested and Ridge wonders if he will be able to get back to the future at all.

The third person prose is imbued with personality, for example when describing Gibby’s brother, Beejee: “Michael still couldn’t figure out how the world’s most perfect creature could be related to a rotten potato like Beejee, but these were the mysteries of the universe.” Kelly shines in the details, such as how given coordinates accurately lead to the exact, real-life neighborhood in Delaware found in a map at the beginning. Occasional glimpses of the year 2199 are given in the form of textbook entries, interviews between scientists, and transcripts of conversations from the lab housing the Spacial Teleportation Module that Ridge uses. Foreshadowing for the plot twists is expertly woven in and leads to well-laid surprises.

This short but suspenseful novel is Rebecca Stead’s When You Reach Me meets Tae Keller’s Jennifer Chan is Not Alone. Though it takes place at the turn of the millennium, modern readers will be able to identify with Michael’s anxieties over the future of the world, and find his journey compelling. 

Though The First State of Being takes place at the turn of the millennium, readers will be able to identify with Michael’s anxieties over the future of the world.
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Kevin Lee just wants space and time to draw comics. At home, if he’s not bickering with his sister, Betty, over their shared room, he needs to help their single mom at her alteration shop underneath their apartment. Plus, his grandmother has been staying with them for the last six months, and though Kevin loves Popo, he also finds her incredibly embarrassing.

School isn’t much better, as Kevin stands out as one of the only three Asian Canadian students. Things go from bad to worse when Popo sends Kevin to school with a century egg for lunch, and eating it leads his peers to give him a new nickname: “Egg Boy.” Kevin just has to survive until Friday when his class goes to Thrill Planet, the amusement park field trip they’ve been looking forward to all year, then everything will be better . . . right?

Alterations is Ray Xu’s debut graphic novel, but he is well-versed in drawing funny stories, with experience as a storyboard artist for films including The Mitchells vs. the Machines and Captain Underpants. Kevin Lee’s story is hilarious and heartfelt, with semi-autobiographical elements from Xu’s childhood in Toronto in the ‘90s. Alterations is like the century egg Kevin eats: On the outside, it looks like a story about middle school drama, but once you bite in, you realize the family dynamics are the umami flavor you can’t ignore.

The graphic elements are lively and entertaining. An embedded narrative of a fanfiction comic that Kevin is creating for a series called Star Odysseys adds a layer that will keep readers engaged, even if it does occasionally result in abrupt transitions. Background colors pop with cartoon-like onomatopoeias. The colors of the narration boxes helpfully change throughout: yellow for Kevin’s story, blue for the fanfiction comics, and pink for Popo’s folktales.

Semi-autobiographical graphic novels for middle grade readers are booming, and rightfully so. This one is a tad more fantastical than Dan Santat’s A First Time for Everything, and a bit more realistic than Yehudi Mercado’s Chunky, and it will certainly appeal to fans of both.

Alterations is like the century egg Kevin eats: On the outside, it looks like a story about middle school drama, but once you bite in, you realize the family dynamics are the umami flavor you can’t ignore.
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Abby Akerman believes in the Universe. Leo Brewer believes the Universe hates him. The only thing the two have in common, other than being queer 16-year-olds from small towns, is that their respective marching bands have just arrived in New York City to perform in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Abby thinks this trip will be the perfect moment to come out to her best friend, Kat, and confess her love for her with a grand romantic gesture. Leo can’t focus on anything other than the broadcast of the parade, which, along with a local news segment, will out him as a trans boy to his extended Southern family. But NYC—or maybe the Universe—has other ideas: Abby and Leo accidentally step into the same train, which leads them away from their bands and toward an epic love story neither of them could have imagined.

This Day Changes Everything is Edward Underhill’s heartfelt and delightful sophomore novel about two band kids trying to find their rhythm outside the marching formations. Spanning less than 48 hours, the whirlwind plot takes Abby and Leo on a unique quest that challenges them to both celebrate queer joy and explore the challenges of being queer youth. Underhill excels balancing out his first dual narrative plot: Both Abby and Leo are complex, passionate and engaging.

The pair’s friends make up an intersectional, diverse cast whose extreme charm makes it easy to suspend disbelief at some of the comical ways they trick their chaperones into thinking Abby and Leo are still with the groups. Arguably, New York City itself is a bustling side character, and Underhill succeeds at capturing the wild nature of the city.

Fans of rom-coms will love how This Day Changes Everything operates within familiar tropes while putting Underhill’s queer spin on them. It’s a perfect blend of Nicola Yoon’s The Sun Is Also a Star and Becky Albertalli’s Imogen, Obviously.

Spanning less than 48 hours, the whirlwind plot of This Day Changes Everything takes Abby and Leo on a unique quest that challenges them to both celebrate queer joy and explore the challenges of being queer youth.

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