Following her award-winning debut novel, Root Magic, Eden Royce returns with another magical, atmospheric South Carolina-set story that explores Gullah culture. While her first book focused on a twin brother and sister learning rootwork from their uncle in the 1960s, Conjure Island centers on 11-year-old Del Baker, a strong-minded girl who feels lost when her caretaker grandmother is hospitalized. Del and Gramma are frequently on the move—this time, from Massachusetts to Delaware—and all the changes have taken their toll. Even before Gramma became ill, Del felt “disconnected from everything around her, like she was drifting in an ocean without any land in sight.”

Del knows next to nothing about her mom, who died in childbirth, and her father is deployed abroad in the Air Force. So when Gramma is hospitalized, Del is sent to spend a month on an island off the coast of South Carolina with her great-grandmother, Nana Rose, whom Del has never heard of before. Nana Rose is the head of the Vesey Conservatory for the Wonder Arts, “the only school left in South Carolina teaching the traditional ways of Southern conjure.” As Nana Rose explains, “Our people have been practicing it in this part of the world for over four hundred years.”

Gobsmacked by her family’s magical connections, Del suddenly finds herself immersed in a Harry Potter-esque world where each student is assigned a magical broom, teachers called “sorcells” give conjuring lessons, spirits roam the halls and a talking alligator helps with transportation. Luckily, Del finds a kindred spirit in her roommate, Eva, and the two explore the challenges of new situations and what it means to be a friend. 

The parallels to Harry Potter are never overdone, as Royce does an excellent job of painting a a unique picture of her own lively South Carolina coastal world. There is plenty of action (quicksand, a near-drowning and more) as Del explores the island, trying to wipe away cobwebs from family secrets that Gramma and Nana Rose refuse to discuss. Why did Gramma leave her island home, never to return? Why did she refuse to continue conjuring, which she was quite skilled at as a girl? Everyone, it seems, has secrets; even Del keeps “her questions about her mom buried deep down in her own sort of box.” 

The magic and mystery make this book particularly alluring, and Royce builds her world with finesse, showing how conjuring “connects people, builds community, and strengthens bonds.” She emphasizes the importance of understanding history and our family roots, as well as building meaningful friendships and communities. “The South really is a portal,” she writes. 

Conjure Island takes readers on an exciting getaway and offers a sense of reassurance to anyone feeling lost, left out, lonely or simply in search of some magical fun.

On her 13th birthday, Pandita Paul escapes to her own secret garden—the Johnson property, an abandoned orchard and house where she and her now-deceased mother used to sneak away for quiet moments. In this haven just across the street from her home in Silicon Valley, Pandita keeps her most precious possessions: notes from her mother and a childhood photo of her mom, whom Pandita worries she’s beginning to forget. 

That same night, during her family birthday celebration, Pandita hears that the property she adores is slated for development. This intensely personal and political conflict propels Hope in the Valley, an extraordinary middle grade novel from Mitali Perkins, who has previously published picture books (Between Us and Abuela) and young adult novels (You Bring the Distant Near).

Before Pandita knows it, her hidden treasures have been removed and the building demolished. Devastated, Pandita joins a historical preservation group trying to block the development. Meanwhile, one of her older sisters is working with a nonprofit group hoping to provide affordable rental units on the prized parcel of land. 

As Pandita begins to learn more about the property’s history, she becomes fascinated with its long-deceased, widowed owner, Lydia Johnson, who stood up for the rights of Japanese American and Mexican American families, protecting their farms during World War II incarceration and disruption. As Pandita begins to understand the history of “Keep California White” campaigns, she reexamines her stance on what should happen to the orchard property.

If all of this sounds complicated or heavy, never fear: Perkins is an expert at weaving together a multitude of plotlines in a seamlessly thought-provoking, entertaining way. She addresses grief, fear of change, xenophobia, segregation and the power of friendships while reckoning with history and the legacies of injustice. Despite this boatload of serious subjects, the prose feels organic, portraying authentic dynamics in this extended Bengali family, which includes grandparents back in India, Pandita’s lively twin sisters, their grieving father and his new love interest. Each plot thread gets its fair due, and only a writer as talented as Perkins could turn a zoning board meeting into a pivotal, dramatic moment. 

In addition to the many ways that history repeats itself, the novel also explores the power of the arts, bolstered by meaningful references to Emily Dickinson and a variety of children’s books, old and new. Against her will, Pandita is forced to attend a summer musical drama camp, where she meets a new friend (and crush)—a Filipino American boy named Leo. She also has a role in a production of The Sound of Music, in which she discovers “the magic of theater, inviting an audience to travel with actors across boundaries of time and culture into the heart of a story”—which is just what Perkins accomplishes in these pages.

Although she hates public speaking, Pandita is named after renowned Indian speaker and social reformer Pandita Ramabai. Like her namesake, Pandita gradually finds her voice, learning to move forward while honoring the past. Many books advocate for listening carefully to people of opposing views while following one’s own beliefs, but few do it better than Perkins’ exceptional Hope in the Valley.

Frankie Bryant just wants to figure out what to wear for their band concert. Neither a suit nor a dress feels quite right to the nonbinary middle schooler. They’ve been through a lot since coming out, including being abandoned by their best friend, Dallas, who makes a show of using the right pronouns in front of adults but snickers about Frankie behind their back. Otherwise, Frankie’s life is fairly normal . . . until they save a golden retriever from bullies and are transported to a giant magical doghouse, where they are given a funny-looking helmet that allows them to talk to a group of superhero dogs called the Pawtheon.

In The Dog Knight, Frankie must prove that they possess the dog virtues—loyalty, kindness, honesty, justice, stubbornness and smell—over the course of six trials. Then they will be named the titular Dog Knight and assume a legendary role alongside the Pawtheon to protect the world from agents of chaos. The golden retriever, Platinum, believes Frankie can do it—but can they believe in themself?

Author Jeremy Whitley (creator of the Glyph Award-winning Princeless series) crafts a heartwarming and funny tale about being true to yourself and fighting for what’s right. His world building is adorable, thoughtful and highly entertaining, including the lore of how humans and dogs came to have a pact. The redemption of Frankie’s ex-best friend is messy and lengthy, and therefore realistic. The story arc wraps up nicely but has enough loose ends to leave readers wanting more from the planned series.

Illustrations by Bre Indigo (Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy: A Modern Graphic Retelling of Little Women) absolutely shine. Both humans and dogs have diverse character designs and dynamic expressions that will be sure to satiate hungry Raina Telgemeier fans. Their use of sound effects alternates between helpful onomatopoeias (such as Frankie’s drums making “tk tk tk tk” sounds) and humorous action indicators (such as the words “pet pet” appearing when Frankie pets one of the super pups). Colors by Melissa Capriglione (Basil and Oregano) are vibrant, with backgrounds that shift colors with characters’ moods and gutters that add to the tone—black during eerie night scenes and bright blue during an ethereal dog lore flashback, for example.

While this isn’t necessarily a story about being nonbinary, Frankie’s gender identity is essential to the narrative; for example, being truthful about how much Dallas hurt them passes the honesty trial, and finding the perfect outfit clears the smell trial. Too few children’s books feature genderqueer protagonists, and fewer still feature nonbinary protagonists in the type of heroic roles that their cisgender peers have played for decades. The Dog Knight is an excellent addition to a necessary and growing canon and will fit in nicely among Molly Knox Ostertag’s The Witch Boy series or ND Stevenson’s Lumberjanes series.

“It’s a tough world, Beal.” That’s the advice that seventh grader Hercules Beal receives from his new homeroom teacher, retired U.S. Marine Lieutenant Colonel Hupfer. The world’s been especially tough on Hercules, whose parents were killed when a pickup truck slammed into their vehicle. Understandably, he’s not happy about much, including the fact that he has to go to a new school, Cape Cod Academy for Environmental Sciences. Newbery Honor winner Gary D. Schmidt knows how to write about devastating situations, and just as The Wednesday Wars did, The Labors of Hercules Beal (Clarion, $19.99, 9780358659631) digs deep.

Narrator Hercules is hardly one to wallow in his sorrows. Despite the tragedy he’s faced, he hasn’t lost his sense of humor nor his sense of wonder, always heading out first thing in the morning with his cat and dog to watch the sunrise over the Truro Dunes, which is his time to say good morning to his parents. After their death, his adult brother, Achilles, returned home to take care of him and run the family business, Beal Brothers Farm and Nursery.

Schmidt has created numerous caring adult teachers in his novels—a fact no doubt influenced by the fact that Schmidt is himself a college English professor. The Labors of Hercules Beal is no exception. At the beginning of the school year, Lt. Col. Hupfer assigns each of his seventh graders their own “Classical Mythology Application Project” to “learn something about yourselves through studying classical myths.” Hercules’ assignment is to consider how each of his namesake demigod’s 12 fabled labors might be performed today.

This daunting assignment provides an intriguing theme, as well as a great way to connect young readers to mythology. Schmidt makes great use of the Maine setting, and the Beal Brothers Farm and Nursery is rife with intriguing dilemmas. Hercules’ reflection essays and Hupfer’s responses are entertaining and informative as well; Hupfer is a kind, sensitive but tough grader, making comments such as, “Your grade might have been significantly higher had you not chosen to use tricks that have been obvious to any teacher born since 1702.”

Few writers have the ability to sink a middle grade character so deeply into the abyss and then bring them back again. As Hercules Beal concludes, “By the end of his Labors, Hercules understood that he had been to hell, and come back. That meant a lot—that he had come back. Now he had a lot more living to do—and he was grateful beyond anything for that.” The Labors of Hercules Beal is an exceptionally honest and empowering book, offering multitudes of hope, kindness and unforgettable adventures.