We Are Lion Dancers is a winning tale that warmly depicts the excitement of discovery, the fun of being part of a team and the value of learning about and participating in important traditions.
We Are Lion Dancers is a winning tale that warmly depicts the excitement of discovery, the fun of being part of a team and the value of learning about and participating in important traditions.
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Every year, Lucía looks forward to watching the northern migration of the monarch butterflies —but this year, her Papá is leaving with them. He needs to find seasonal farm work to support his family. Lucía spends the warm months without him or her beloved monarcas, strumming on his guitarra when she gets lonely—“Songs soothe weeping hearts,” Papá says—and as autumn returns, Lucía counts down the days until those she loves return to her.

Author Cynthia Harmony and illustrator Devon Holzwarth have crafted a beautiful story about the life of the monarch butterfly and what it represents to a migrant farmer’s family in A Flicker of Hope: A Story of Migration. Though Lucía and Papá’s desire to see each other again is bittersweet and moving, the real standout is Holzwarth’s colorful illustration work. Monarch butterflies litter nearly every page and morph into what Lucía and Papá need them to be: the music strummed from a guitar, a path the car takes to work, Día de los Muertos skulls.

Back matter gives information about the monarch reserve in Mexico and elaborates on the connection between indigenous Mazahua culture and the butterfly, particularly its connection to Día de los Muertos. Readers desiring more extensive ecological and political details about seasonal work will need to find them elsewhere, as the back matter limits itself to discussing the metaphor of the book and only touches upon the hardships posed by seasonal harvesting in America, and how this is the only choice for many Michoacán workers.

For those who love butterflies or those looking for picture books that explore an aspect of the immigrant experience, A Flicker of Hope will be a meaningful, beautifully illustrated addition to their shelves.

Author Cynthia Harmony and illustrator Devon Holzwarth have crafted a beautifully illustrated story about the life of the monarch butterfly and what it represents to a migrant farmer’s family in A Flicker of Hope.

Ann Fraistat’s deliciously creepy, highly inventive YA gothic horror novel A Place for Vanishing has a killer first line: “Days like this made me wish I’d never come back from the dead.” It just gets better from there—at least for readers who revel in cleverly conceived supernatural horror, from scary seances to oodles of sinister, clickety-clackety insects. For 16-year-old Libby Feldman, 13-year-old Vivi and their mom, not so much.

It was certainly a relief that their mom’s childhood home, Madame Clery’s House of Masks—a grand Victorian replete with blue roses and a hedge maze in the backyard—was vacant and available to give the family a fresh start after Libby’s recent suicide attempt. Libby has since been diagnosed with bipolar III disorder and is benefiting from medication and therapy, but newly delicate family dynamics have her on edge, and she’s baffled over why her mom thought moving into a haunted house was a good idea.

Founded in 1894, the House of Masks has been linked to numerous disappearances over the decades, and Libby’s grandparents died there. It’s filled with disturbing sounds and bizarre details, like beautiful but deeply unsettling stained glass windows depicting various insects—ants, moths, cicadas, wasps and more—surrounding human-like figures with voids for eyes.

Despite her doubts, Libby’s determined to ignore the you-should-flee signals her gut is sending, since, “I’d caused a lot of misery lately. I owed it to Mom and Vivi to make them feel good.” But urgent questions soon arise: Why is her mom behaving oddly and drinking cup after cup of blue-rose tea? Are the masks dangling from the windows as weird as she thinks they are, and why is Vivi so casual about wearing one? Handsome neighbor Flynn knows a lot about the house but is reluctant to share details. What is he—and the house—hiding?

As in her Bram Stoker Award-nominated debut novel, What We Harvest, Fraistat does a masterful job of balancing supernatural goings-on, psychological suspense and complicated relationships. She writes about the effects of trauma with sensitivity and care in this eminently entertaining horror tale rife with thrills, chills and heart.

Ann Fraistat writes about the effects of trauma with sensitivity and care in this eminently entertaining horror tale rife with thrills, chills and heart.
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Between jobs, Roy DeCarava would pop a new film canister into his black-and-white camera and capture the day-to-day lives of the neighborhood he called home: Harlem. As he photographed the world around him—from a young Black boy drawing with sidewalk chalk, to a sunlit Black woman standing in a white dress, or an older Black painter selling his work on the street—DeCarava amassed a world-renowned collection that honored his Harlem neighbors. 

Everywhere Beauty Is Harlem: The Vision of Photographer Roy DeCarava is the first book written about the life of the essential American photographer. Award-winning illustrator E.B. Lewis pays tribute by reenvisioning DeCarava’s iconic photographs as full-color paintings, imagining what DeCarava may have seen in the seconds before the film captured a moment forever in black and white. Playful juxtaposition of opposing concepts in the text, such as using eyes to listen or hungering for something that isn’t food, keeps the narrative bouncing forward. Emphasis on DeCarava’s search for beauty in every element of ordinary life—marked by the camera’s repeated “SNAP!”—provides a grounded base for relating to the photographer. Everywhere Beauty Is Harlem inspires readers to “look slowly” and discover a deep love for the everyday moments in their lives. After all, as author Gary Golio writes, “Life is how you look at it.” 

Quotes from DeCarava appear throughout Golio’s precise narrative text as well as a short biography in the backmatter that adds illuminating context and includes a statement by DeCarava himself, in which he proudly proclaims his intent to dignify Black lives and experiences through his work. A robust timeline puts into perspective the social and cultural changes that Harlem would have experienced throughout DeCarava’s life. Though the book lacks any of DeCarava’s actual photography, the biography and images of DeCarava and his camera will spark eagerness in readers for additional information. 

Everywhere Beauty Is Harlem honors a classic artist in a biographical picture book both beautiful and educational. Fans of Lesa Cline-Ransome or Carole Boston Weatherford will find this a worthy addition to their picture book collection.

This beautiful biographical picture book about the essential American photographer Roy DeCarava will inspire readers to “look slowly” and discover a deep love for the everyday moments in their lives.

When Granny goes to the market, people give her sidelong glances. After all, they’re selecting pristine produce from carefully curated displays while Granny is scooping up lumpy fruit and bumpy vegetables spilling out from an overflowing dumpster.

But the charming and resourceful star of Tang Wei’s debut picture book, Grandma’s Roof Garden, doesn’t mind the funny looks because she knows something important: This imperfect produce helps her feed her animals and compost her garden, a lush and colorful oasis she’s created atop a tall gray apartment building in the city of Chengdu, in southwest China. 

Clucking hens and honking geese, an inquisitive black cat and an impressive array of plants share space in Granny’s rooftop garden. Translator Kelly Zhang maintains the playful punchiness of Wei’s couplets and quatrains in the translation from Chinese to English: “Over each and every one, / Granny proudly cries with a grin: / Look at my gorgeous, / chubby veggie children!” 

Not only does Granny commune with nature and get lots of exercise every day, she creates community by sharing her bounty with her neighbors. Even better, she cooks the remaining produce for her family “to make them healthy, strong, and happy.” Wei’s expressive colored pencil drawings perfectly capture the neighbors’ surprise and delight, as well as the warm affection exuded by Granny’s family as they dine together on a host of delicious veggie dishes. A cheery mix of patterns, colors and textures brings visual interest and vibrancy to every page, from a spread overrun with dramatically curving vines to a set piece depicting an action-packed afternoon during which the cat supervises as Granny climbs a ladder, lays brick and tills a patch of dirt. Phew!

In her author’s note, Wei shares that Grandma’s Roof Garden was inspired by a beloved family member who has created her own marvelous roof garden. Readers will be touched to learn there’s a real-life Granny out there living a wonderful veggie-centric life—and perhaps be energized to grow community and good health in their very own gardens too. This heartwarming tale is one to share and treasure.

Tang Wei’s heartwarming tale, punctuated by expressive colored pencil drawings, will energize readers to grow community and good health in their very own gardens too.
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Tulsi, a girl in the mountains of northern New Mexico, became pen pals with Vanessa, who lives by the sea in Tanzania. Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw’s Like You, Like Me, which is based on the real-life friendship between her daughter Tulsi and her pen pal, Vanessa, shows how alike two girls and their worlds can be, despite living in very different places. Through collages made from painted papers and oil sticks, Kostecki-Shaw has created a vibrant exchange that celebrates global connectedness. It’s a delightful follow-up to her earlier book, Same, Same But Different, which featured two pen pals in India and the United States.

On the title page spread, the words that each child writes form a curving, yarn-like thread that crosses the page, stretching from one to another. The endpapers feature bright collage maps of New Mexico and Tanzania, along with a number of geographical facts about each place that will ground young readers and perhaps inspire them to seek out more information. Children will enjoy the intriguing local details of each girl’s home: Tulsi describes ponderosa pines that “smell like butterscotch candy” while Vanessa writes, “my city wears the sweet smell of frangipani.” They compare notes on pets, siblings, school and pastimes in spare prose that is both informative and authentically childlike. Kostecki-Shaw enlivens her cheery, earthy collages with patterns and stamped textures, from the multicolored feathers of a red-tailed hawk to blue spots on a galloping cheetah. An imaginative sense of dreamlike wonder pervades the book from time to time, such as when Tulsi flies on the back of a soaring hawk while Vanessa clings to a cheetah’s neck.

“My life has definitely gotten a lot more beautiful because of people I’ve met.” Read our interview with Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw. 

The girls repeat a refrain, “Like you, like me,” to each other as they discover similarities between their lives, and Kostecki-Shaw finds a variety of creative ways to accentuate these connections. The first spread, for instance, features Tulsi on the left-hand page, sitting on a couch as she writes to her friend, with snow-covered mountains visible past her window. On the right-hand page, Vanessa also writes from a couch, while an ocean sparkles outside her window. In the center of this spread, each couch seems to blend into the other. Elsewhere, the two girls’ shadows merge across the pages as they each play different musical instruments. By the end of the book, the friends gaze directly into each other’s eyes, saying, “I see you!” and “I see you too!” Like You, Like Me is a wonderful celebration of global friendship.

Through collages made from painted papers and oil sticks, Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw has created a vibrant celebration of global connectedness based on the author’s daughter and her real-life pen pal.
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Like the traditional Lion Dancers featured in their gorgeous Lunar New Year Love Story, graphic novel veterans Gene Luen Yang and LeUyen Pham combine their considerable skills, bringing a tender love story to life. Yang’s writing and Pham’s illustrations blend seamlessly to introduce readers to Vietnamese American Val (short for Valentina) and her on-again, off-again relationship with love.

Valentine’s Day has always been Val’s favorite—it’s her namesake—and as a kid, she embraces the holiday wholeheartedly: making valentines for all her classmates, speaking blessings over each one, and even sending her dad a valentine from her mom in heaven. But when a crushing pronouncement from her estranged grandmother reveals a massive lie in Val’s life, everything falls to pieces. Soon, Val has lost her faith in love. Then she meets Les, “hands down the prettiest boy” she has ever seen, at the Lunar New Year festival, and she decides to give herself one year before she gives up on her heart for good. Will Les be the true love she’s been looking for?

“Once you have the familiar, you can weave in the unfamiliar.” Read our interview with Gene Luen Yang and LeUyen Pham. 

While the majority of the narrative takes place during Val’s junior and senior years of high school, Lunar New Year Love Story will appeal to a broad audience, including younger teens. Though it is a love story, it embraces all kinds of love: romantic, yes, but also familial, intergenerational, spiritual and the special love between trusted friends. All these versions of love get tested, and readers will hope along with Val as she attempts to escape her family’s doomed relationship history. Yang writes wholly real teenagers: reflective and impulsive; seeking while still confident; aware of their ability to hurt and be hurt. Yang’s Korean, Chinese and Vietnamese teen characters share diverse cultural perspectives as they explore the art of lion dancing. Their teachers insist: “It isn’t just a dance. If you’re doing it right? It’s as if you two become one animal, with one heart.”

Gene Luen Yang’s writing and LeUyen Pham’s illustrations blend seamlessly to introduce readers to Vietnamese American Val and her evolving relationship with love.
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A Desi auntie sits in her cardamom-and-sugar-scented cottage, a cup of chai in hand and a pile of envelopes in front of her. Wedding season approaches, and she needs to decide which to attend, out of the many she’s been invited to. “Weddings were her favorite. Big declarations of love, gold-spun dresses, glittering jewelry, dramatic interactions with family members, and the food. Oh, the food.” She closes her eyes and randomly picks eight envelopes . . .

Editor Prerna Pickett (If You Only Knew) brings together award-winning and debut Desi authors in a young adult anthology of short stories celebrating love as it unfolds at Desi weddings. Anthologies work best when the stories are tied together by a unifying theme, and this one takes things a step further by also centering a unifying event and its unique, beautiful traditions. Yet there’s no monotony; the ethnicities, religions and languages spotlighted in My Big Fat Desi Wedding vary widely. A broad range of romantic tropes is explored, from the classic old flames rekindling to an enemies-to-lovers story between two families with competing pickle businesses. One story even refreshingly excludes romance, instead featuring a Muslim boy gathering the courage to go to his disowned brother’s wedding, which his disapproving parents have forbidden. The multitude of experiences portrayed wonderfully mirrors the wide array of events one can witness at a Desi wedding, which often blend multiple traditions as families are joined.

However, for all the diversity this collection encompasses, it is predominantly heteronormative. There is one story with an explicitly bisexual main character, and it’s the one with the heaviest fantasy elements. While that story, which features vampires, is phenomenal, this reviewer wishes there had been more LGBTQ+ representation throughout.

Whether readers have attended a Desi wedding or not, they’ll feel welcomed like a family friend, as the ceremonies are given just enough background context. Throughout My Big Fat Desi Wedding, it is a true joy to look out for the recurring auntie with a mole and bob haircut, and watch her interactions with the characters in each story. Fans of anthologies with vibrant characters like those in Blackout and Come On In will be thrilled to attend these eight celebrations.

Anthologies work best when the stories are tied together by a unifying theme. My Big Fat Desi Wedding takes things a step further by centering a unifying event as well—the Desi wedding and its unique, beautiful traditions.
Interview by

As a child, author-illustrator Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw was so shy that she didn’t want anyone else to see what she was drawing. “I was either in a cardboard box or in the closet—that’s where my studio was, and I would just draw all the time,” she remembers, speaking over Zoom from her home studio in the mountains of North Central New Mexico, where she lives with her husband and two children.

Now, Kostecki-Shaw no longer hides her creative talents and instead uses art to foster communication and friendships around the globe. Like You, Like Me, her latest book, was inspired by a pen pal relationship between her daughter, Tulsi, and a slightly younger girl in Tanzania, Vanessa. Kostecki-Shaw has been homeschooling her son and daughter for nine years, and she used letter writing as a skill-building exercise. Her children wrote not only to her, but also to their cousins and neighbors. They even kept little mailboxes in the woods. Later, Tulsi wrote to authors she liked, and eventually, she asked for a pen pal. One of Kostecki-Shaw’s friends—a librarian at an international school—helped Tulsi and Vanessa connect.

Read our starred review of Like You, Like Me.

The girls gave Kostecki-Shaw approval to use their names in the book. “They were pretty excited,” she reports. Kostecki-Shaw’s vibrant, torn-paper collage art shows the girls communicating from across the world, discussing the details of their lives: ponderosa pines, African drumming, red-tailed hawks and cheetahs.

A number of spreads feature each girl side-by-side on their own page, mirroring the other in creative ways and making it easy for readers to notice the similarities and differences between their two worlds. About midway through the book, Tulsi looks at a flicker feather that she wants to share with her friend. Kostecki-Shaw says, “I just tilted Tulsi’s head up, and thought, maybe this is a point where they could actually look at each other, even theoretically.” In the finished spread, the flicker feather picked up by Tulsi magically appears on a beach in front of Vanessa, as she holds onto a shell that appears in Tulsi’s possession in the next spread. “It almost feels like they’re in the same place,” Kostecki-Shaw says, “even though the backgrounds are different. From this point on, they’re looking at each other.” Like You, Like Me, she says, is a book about “coming together and sharing more and more.”

Like You, Like Me is a companion to Kostecki-Shaw’s earlier book, Same, Same but Different, which is also about two pen pals: Elliot in the United States, and Kailash in India. As a child, Kostecki-Shaw had a pen pal in Belgium, and for the last 15 years, she’s had an adult pen pal from France. “She once sent me a small hand-sewn envelope with fine red earth clay from where she was born in France,” Kostecki-Shaw says, “and I sent her flicker feathers and a tiny clay flicker bird I made. That’s where the inspiration came from for Vanessa and Tulsi sharing the shell and feather.”

“I love just sharing the inspiration that comes from connections with people you meet around the world, whether it’s through traveling or pen pals, or however you meet them.”

Kostecki-Shaw grew up in St. Louis, and her global curiosity was initially ignited by her father, who traveled often and widely for his work—the basis for her book, Papa Brings Me the World. “I remember just wanting to go with him, to see all those places,” she says. Her first book, My Travelin’ Eye, was inspired by difficulties with a lazy eye, which made learning to read a struggle. “I loved stories so much, and I loved books,” she recalls, “so I would copy all the art and ask everyone to read to me. I loved that books showed me other places to go.”

As an adult, after working for a number of years as an artist for Hallmark cards, she traveled to Nepal and taught English, and she also spent about five months in India. “Before I wrote Same, Same but Different,” she explains, “my life looked so much like Elliot’s. And now my life looks a lot like Kailash’s in some ways. It’s much more connected to nature. We live on a little homestead and we have goats and chickens and ducks, and we’re just a little bit more rooted in community.”

Several years ago, she and her family built her art studio themselves, with the help of a builder friend. “It was so empowering to me as a woman and as an artist to create my own space,” she says. Like You, Like Me is the first project she’s completed in that space, and she relished being able to spread out while creating collages with hand-painted papers and oil sticks. “It just felt so freeing. I would cover surfaces and just paint papers for days, making all kinds of patterns,” she says. “I was thinking a lot about the seasons and nature here in New Mexico, and the color palettes of photos from Tanzania, and looking at patterns that would show up in the ocean, leaves and flowers there.”

She uses a variety of techniques to add texture. “Texture is one of my favorite things. In addition to carving and stamping shapes,” she continues, “I printed with rubber bands and miscellaneous small objects, splattered wet paint and scratched dry paint with an old raggedy paintbrush. I made textures by pushing and pulling paint blobs around with a small piece of chipboard and a brayer, and I printed patterns with oil sticks. Basically, kindergarten play.”

As a child, she feared writing: “Even now, I have to face that little bit of fear of writing until I get far enough into the story where everything fades away, and I’m just having fun in the story and making art.” Now, as an author-illustrator, Kostecki-Shaw loves being able to simultaneously adjust both words and art, letting them “just dance together until they find their way.” She adds, “I love just sharing the inspiration that comes from connections with people you meet around the world, whether it’s through traveling or pen pals, or however you meet them. They just open you up to new ways and make your life so much more beautiful, whether through a conversation or an experience. My life has definitely gotten a lot more beautiful because of people I’ve met.”

 

Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw conveys the joy of fostering international friendships through the vividly textured Like You, Like Me.
Interview by

LeUyen Pham arrives early and is already telling stories as we wait for Gene Luen Yang to hop on the call. Laughing, she explains, “You get the right people in the right space, and we’ll entertain you, no matter what.” She’s talking about our conversation, which took place over Zoom, but she could just as easily be talking about her forthcoming graphic novel with Yang, Lunar New Year Love Story. Though they’ve been friends for years, this is the first project they’ve worked on together, and the collaboration was seamless. Pham describes their process as being “like two friends in class, exchanging notes.” 

As soon as Gene joins us, each artist can’t stop singing the praises of the other. It’s Pham who points out that Yang has just been honored with what he calls “a fancy award in Oklahoma,” which the rest of us would call the NSK Neustadt Prize for Children’s and Young Adult Literature (Pham was also a nominee for the prize this year). 

Read our starred review of Lunar New Year Love Story.

Of Pham, Yang says, “She can draw in multiple styles and do them all incredibly well. And because she comes from picture books, she has a painterly quality in her artwork.” According to Yang, sometimes picture book artists making the jump to comics struggle with the stamina required: “There’s just way more pictures in a graphic novel. But I think Uyen has mutant powers. She is shockingly fast.” What might take a comics artist years to draw, Pham completed in under eight months—including the coloring, a task many artists hire out. Yang quips, “There’s a saying in comics that to have a career, you just have to be two of the three: good, fast or nice. So I’ve told Uyen she can stop being nice now.”

Lunar New Year Love Story started from what its title suggests: a love story, and one close to Yang’s heart. When he and his wife of 23 years began dating, she hated Valentine’s Day, seeing it as a corporate scam. But, he explains, “I really liked her, so my workaround for that was to celebrate the Lunar New Year in a very Valentines-y way.” Noting the frequent overlap between the two holidays, he turned to love-themed Lunar New Year cards and presents, and from there, the tale of Lunar New Year Love Story’s protagonist, Val (short for Valentina), was born. 

Val also hates Valentine’s Day, but when growing up, she loved it. Her imaginary friend, who plays a considerable role in this graphic novel, was St. Valentine himself (Val calls him St. V.). Though Yang wrote the manuscript, the book was truly a collaborative effort. Pham explains the many ways Yang invited her into the story, asking about her first love or her imaginary friends, and including components of her answers in the narrative. “It’s not very often that you have such a generous writer, but Gene has no ego, and somewhere along the way, it went from being Gene’s story to kind of meshing together.” 

“Once you have the familiar, you can weave in the unfamiliar.”

Yang agrees: “I’ve collaborated with other artists, but this project is the one where there was the most bleed over in terms of responsibilities.” Pham insists on the greatness of Yang’s original manuscript (which, she says, he drew out entirely) and the incredible timeliness of it: “I had just gone to Milkwood (Sophie Blackall’s farm/creative retreat), and I was seeing these tremendous artists producing tremendous work, and everything changed for me. I came home and realized I didn’t have the heart for the project I had been working on.” Canceling that project made it possible for Pham to consider Yang’s book when it arrived. “It fell in my hands right at the moment when I needed something to fill the soul. That sounds really corny, and I don’t know how else to put it. I was looking for a soul-feeder, something I could put a lot of myself into.”

Pham did put a lot of herself into Lunar New Year Love Story, including her background and ethnicity. Yan knew he wanted “to tell a story about a Pan-Asian community, because that kind of community has been important to me.” The two explain that they had a number of conversations about Val’s possible ethnicity, before landing on Vietnamese. “That was the culture I understood and could communicate the best,” says Pham. When she first read the character of Val’s grandmother, “there was an immediate familiarity in her voice, and I thought, ‘I know exactly who this woman is, and I know exactly how I’m going to draw her.’ . . . It was all just my mom.” 

Family is an incredibly important part of Lunar New Year Love Story, with Val having to navigate the changes in her relationship with her dad and their volatile history. But it’s the love story that drives most of the narrative as Val tries to figure out if she’s doomed to never find true love. When she meets Les at the Lunar New Year festival, she starts to hope, giving herself a year to prove it’s possible. Along the way, she has to deal with Les’s rude cousin Jae, who turns out to complicate matters more than Val ever expected. Yang notes that they “purposefully tried to hit all of the romcom structure.” But Yang and Pham didn’t rest there. “Once you hit that skeleton, it lets you play with a bunch of stuff. Once you have the familiar, you can weave in the unfamiliar.”

For some readers, that unfamiliar might come in the form of the traditional lion dance that Val falls in love with, or the intermingling of Chinese and Korean and Vietnamese cultures, or even the references to Catholic saints and other aspects of the Christian church. When asked if it has ever felt controversial to include issues of faith, or if he’s been cautioned against writing about faith in his books, Yang replies, “In college, I had an amazing creative writing professor who once told me, ‘You should never write about your faith.’ She was a Romanian American and a practicing Buddhist, and I was a Chinese American practicing Catholic. Instead, she said, “Live your faith, and if your faith is part of your life, it will come out in your writing.”

Agreeing, Pham says, “There’s the stadium in which these dialogues are played out in public, and then there’s people’s private lives. And this story takes place in private lives, not in a public stadium. I prefer stories at that level, where we’re simply showing what life is.” She echoes that thought when speaking about ethnicity: “I like that the story is just a story that happens to have Asian characters in it. It has a universality to it.”

From family and friendships to religion and culture, Lunar New Year Love Story is a romcom that looks at the deeper aspects of life. Pham took an incredibly thoughtful approach to the novel’s colors: “We made the book into 12 chapters, representing each month of the year. Each month has a theme, which corresponds to a different color on the feng shui wheel. Everything connects with a meaning.” Yang adds: “There are five elements in Asian cosmology, and each of those is associated with a color, each associated with different parts of society and culture. So what Uyen did was she took this old, old philosophy and applied it here, and even if you don’t know all of that when you’re reading, you can feel a depth in the color.” 

“There’s the stadium in which these dialogues are played out in public, and then there’s people’s private lives. And this story takes place in private lives, not in a public stadium.”

Each partner insists it was the work of the other that made this book successful. “What I love about Gene’s work,” says Pham, “is that it’s always multilayered. It’s not a single story.” Like the lion dancers in their graphic novel, they know it takes two partners to make something beautiful and true.

The authors meshed together real details from each of their own lives to write Lunar New Year Love Story.
Review by

Angela is born “under the milky Arctic sunlight” and grows up with her father near a glacier. They hike there often and listen, with their whole bodies, to the glacier and its “universe of sound.” This is the enchanting opening to Angela’s Glacier, written by poet Jordan Scott and illustrated by Diana Sudyka in the same beguiling peacock, indigo and duck egg blue colors described as belonging to the glacier.

Scott’s descriptive and evocative text makes this one especially delightful to read aloud: In describing the way Angela’s father would carry baby Angela on his back to visit the glacier, Scott writes that they hiked “through lava fields covered with silver mosses, past chocolate-brown arctic foxes atop raven’s glass, crowberry, and pixie lichen.” With each step they practice pronouncing the glacier’s name: Snæfellsjökull. As Angela grows, she takes the hikes herself. She puts her head to the ice and listens, even whispering her fears to it. In a palette filled with nearly every shade of blue and aquamarine, Sudyka uses textures and graceful, swerving lines to capture the landscape and cold winds of Angela’s favorite place to visit.

School, friends, homework and extracurricular activities consume Angela as a teen: “Time just melted away.” She feels somewhat lost, and her heartbeat sounds strange. Then her father asks, “Have you visited Snæfellsjökull?” Angela heads to that “ancient blue,” and despite knowing she’s not going to stop growing up or being busy, she makes a promise to the glacier to always visit.

Scott’s afterword describes how the story is inspired by his friend Angela Rawlings, who shares her own note about her experience listening to the “gentle” sounds of glaciers in Iceland. She writes how important it is that readers listen to themselves, to each other and “to the ecosystems and their inhabitants who sustain us,” particularly during a time of climate change and species extinction. A warmhearted ode to the colder side of the natural world, Angela’s Glacier gives readers everywhere a chance to ponder the “glacier’s music.”

A warmhearted ode to the colder side of the natural world, Angela's Glacier gives readers everywhere a chance to ponder the "glacier's music."
Review by

Author Ying Chang Compestine mixes a smart, clever heroine into her own take on the Rapunzel story, inspired by Chinese culture and food as well as Compestine’s own childhood. In a world of myriad fairy-tale retellings, Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu stands out as delightful, energetic and unique: a fairy tale you will happily devour.

The “Rapunzel” of Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu does, indeed, have a tower and a long braid. But for Pu Zel, daughter of the Emperor and Empress Ra, the tower is a sanctuary where she can cook and eat without hearing constant reminders to be a “perfect princess.” Pu Zel’s mother sends up baskets of food via Pu Zel’s braid, and Pu Zel proceeds to cook for herself and her dog, while happily ignoring the pleas of the many suitors her father sends to woo her down. It will take something much more interesting—and smelly—than songs and kites to get her attention. Compestine, who began telling stories as a child in 1960s China, where Western books were scarce, combines Pu Zel’s straightforward, practical manner with just enough whimsy to make this a great read-aloud.

In her picture book debut, illustrator Crystal Kung creates an enchantingly soft watercolor-and-ink world of mountains and homes that looks as though it could be included in a museum collection of Chinese art. Against this traditional backdrop, Pu Zel and her tower pop in an explosion of vibrant, modern-princess energy. Her family, tutors and suitors are expressive and intricate, clad in exquisite finery. Kung seamlessly blends everything together and fills every page with intriguing details and movement. Her use of light and shadow is especially spectacular; this story feels completely ready for the big screen. Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu is a brilliant first act that will have readers hoping for many more books from this illustrator.

Ra Pu Zel’s story wraps up with an insightful afterward and a recipe for “Non-Stinky Pan-Fried Tofu” that will satisfy curious, hungry readers. Whether this is your first Rapunzel retelling or your 50th, Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu has all the ingredients to entertain, delight and surprise readers (and fairy tale collectors) of all ages. And for those looking for a happily ever after, it’s stinky tofu for the win.

In a world of myriad fairy-tale retellings, Ra Pu Zel and the Stinky Tofu stands out as delightful, energetic and unique: a fairy tale you will happily devour.
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It would be an understatement to say that her dad’s abrupt departure from the family has disrupted Belén’s life. Ever since he abandoned Belén, her older sister Ava and their mom in their East Oakland neighborhood, Ava has seemed distant and dismissive, and their mom is hardly ever home. Even Belén’s former refuge, books and reading, hasn’t come through for her. Now, in the midst of senior year of high school, she’s on the verge of flunking out. To make things even more complicated, Belén’s brilliant, ambitious best friend, Leti, is pregnant, and Leti’s lifelong dream of attending UC Berkeley hangs in the balance, especially when Leti’s racist parents learn her boyfriend is Black. Belén wants to be a good friend to Leti, but how can she, when she’s barely holding herself together?

In one short year, Belén’s life has become almost completely unrecognizable. Unfortunately, her relatives all claim that one thing is entirely too recognizable: Belén’s resemblance to her father, a high school dropout. Is she fated not only to look like him but also to repeat his various failings? Are she and Leti doomed to retrace old ways of thinking and being, or can they outline new and different paths for themselves?

Debut novelist Carolina Ixta lives and works in Oakland, and her knowledge of and affection for the city is apparent on every page of Shut Up, This Is Serious. Ixta doesn’t shy away from representing the city’s complexities—its vast socioeconomic inequalities, its legacy of racial tensions, its rich but complicated Mexican American community—in clear-eyed detail conveyed through Belén’s intimate first-person narration. While the setting is so vivid that Oakland itself almost becomes a character, Belén’s story still manages to take center stage. Many of her struggles—to find self-acceptance and confidence; to shed harmful relationships and seek out healthy ones; to accept help from supportive adults; to imagine a better future for herself, her family and her friends—will resonate with a wide swath of readers, who will be captivated by Belén and Leti’s efforts to thrive.

Caroline Ixta doesn't shy away from representing Oakland’s complexities—its vast socioeconomic inequalities, its legacy of racial tensions, its rich but complicated Mexican American community—in clear-eyed detail conveyed through protagonist Belén's intimate first-person narration.
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An exciting start to the Above the Black trilogy, Sky’s End transports readers into a dazzling setting reminiscent of Treasure Planet and “Attack on Titan,” where vast lore sets the scene for complicated ethical and cultural questions bound to make readers stop and think. Marc J Gregson’s debut novel features a stunning, harrowing world of floating islands and a society ordered by Meritocracy: a culture where those who rise are rewarded, and those who fall are left to fend for themselves. Every character in Sky’s End is caught in the rigid structure of Meritocracy, which forces them to reconcile their morals with their desire to surpass everyone else. 

After his treacherous uncle kills Conrad’s father and takes his title, Conrad and his mother are exiled to live among the Lows, leaving his sister, Ella, in his uncle’s clutches. When Conrad’s mother is killed by gorgantauns—giant sky serpents with steel scales—his uncle gives Conrad an offer he can’t refuse: He’ll reveal Ella’s location if Conrad agrees to be Selected by one of the Twelve Trades. Chosen by the Hunters, Conrad and his fellow recruits compete to kill the most gorgantauns before time runs out. With a manipulative crew and rumors of rebellion, Conrad must figure out who to trust and how to rise in his own way.

Conrad wrestles with opposing ideologies: Is his father’s harsh, self-preserving perspective the way to succeed, or does his mother’s plea for compassion have weight in a world like this? As Conrad learns to work with fellow crew members—like Bryce, whose optimistic outlook challenges Conrad’s pessimism, and Pound, whose long-held family rivalry with Conrad’s family makes him an automatic enemy—his worldview shifts.

Sky’s End will prompt readers to reflect on their own beliefs about success, society and trustworthiness. Can a person be truly selfless in a world where one needs to get ahead? What is loyalty worth, and what does it cost? Instead of answering these moral questions outright, Sky’s End lets its characters work through different perspectives. While goodness and evil are factors in the story, each character swims in moral grayness: Although many of them possess good intentions, almost all are culpable of some crime, lie or betrayal.

Action-packed, mysterious and satisfying, Sky’s End is a great read for anyone who loves fantasy and dystopian fiction.

Marc J Gregson’s debut novel features a stunning, harrowing world of floating islands whose citizens most value surpassing everyone else—at any cost.

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