Instagram Facebook X-twitter Linkedin

Sign Up

Get the latest ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.

All , , Coverage

All Children's Coverage

Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Mac Barnett, Jon Klassen and the biggest goat you’ve ever seen

Interview by Julie Danielson

You only think you know the story of the three billy goats who wanted to cross the bridge and the troll who tried to stop them. In The Three Billy Goats Gruff, acclaimed author Mac Barnett and Caldecott Medalist Jon Klassen create a wickedly funny retelling that breathes new life into the classic story. The author and illustrator chatted with BookPage about transforming oral tales into picture books, their many years of collaboration and the interior decorating habits of trolls. 

This is your seventh picture book together. Typically, picture book authors and illustrators don’t work directly with each other. What are your collaborations like? Has the process changed?
Author Mac Barnett: Jon and I have been friends for 13 years now, and we still talk about picture books more than anything else. Like, it’s not even close. When we’re making a book together, it feels like an opportunity to continue that conversation, and in that way our books are documents of friendship and expressions of our mutual love for this art form. 

Illustrator Jon Klassen: I don’t know if it’s changed much in terms of how we talk. We’ve always had this kind of creepy shorthand where we start sentences and the rest is understood. 

Our collaboration does change a fair bit from book to book because we mix up how they come about pretty often. Sometimes we beat out a story together, then Mac writes it and then I draw it, and I go back to him for changes in the text to solve problems we hadn’t thought of initially. For this one, he’d written the text without me specifically in mind, so it was much more about treating the text as almost unchangeable. I think maybe there were one or two tweaks, but it wasn’t as much of a hands-on collaboration. But that’s very enjoyable too. I like constraints, and that’s a big one.

This is the first volume in what will be at least a trilogy of picture books that retell fairy tales. Why did you begin with “The Three Billy Goats Gruff”? 
Barnett: Foremost on my mind was ensuring that the stories work as picture books. I wanted to create entertaining read-alouds that make good use of page turns and set up dynamic relationships between text and image. 

It was a delicate but significant act of adaptation: Fairy tales began as an oral tradition and then were set down as straight prose (sometimes with decorative illustrations, which function way differently from the images in a picture book). Fairy tales are such crowd pleasers. Over countless retellings, these stories evolved to maximize reactions from groups of children sitting and listening. 

“I hope the adults who read this book to kids feel plugged into a centurieslong tradition of getting big laughs, huge groans and all sorts of yelps, squeals and ewws.”

Picture books work differently than any other form of storytelling. And “The Three Billy Goats Gruff” just made so much sense as a picture book—it’s such a visual story, and all about scale. I hope the adults who read this book to kids feel plugged into a centurieslong tradition of getting big laughs, huge groans and all sorts of yelps, squeals and ewws. 

Klassen: This story is a tricky one to tell because a lot of times it’s included in some kind of anthology and it only gets one page and one illustration or something. But Mac understood that the pleasure in the story is in the page-turn reveals, and in drawing it all out and then doubling down over and over again when it gets to the part where the troll gets punished. The pacing of it is perfectly suited to a picture book, and Mac divided it up that way and got maximum impact out of the beats. It was a real pleasure to work over.

Mac, what well-known elements of the story did you want to preserve? Which ones did you want to play around with?
Barnett: In this story, I leave the original plot pretty much intact. I love revisionist storytelling and fractured fairy tales (The Stinky Cheese Man made me want to write picture books), but that’s not really what we’re up to here. This book feels more like how Jon and I would tell this story about a troll and some goats that we remember hearing as kids. That said, every telling of a fairy tale is a retelling, and I think this version feels very much our own. 

In “The Three Billy Goats Gruff,” the good guys don’t get much stage time. The goats file by, one by one, but we spend most of our time with the villain. So I wanted to give a little more sense of who this troll was and what he wanted, and I probably inevitably ended up sympathizing with him a bit. 

I changed the ending too. Here’s the original text, as set down in the middle of the 19th century (translated from the Norwegian by D.L. Ashliman): “And then he flew at the troll, and poked his eyes out with his horns, and crushed him to bits, body and bones, and tossed him out into the cascade.”

For me, that doesn’t work in a picture book. It’s too violent. Mind you, I’d have no problem telling the story that way—out loud, without pictures—to a group of young kids. It works great without pictures! You can feel the storyteller stoking the crowd, getting squeals and screams, upping the ante. But as soon as you add pictures, it gets too gross. It breaks the spell. A famous Jon Klassen eyeball flying from its socket, a little optic nerve wiggling behind it? No thank you. We wanted to preserve the spirit of the ending—gratuitous, escalating, funny—and I like where we landed very much. 

“Jon and I like to see what’s on the other side of a running gag. What do you find when you exhaust the joke, but still keep telling the story?”

Jon, as you set out to illustrate this book, what scene were you most excited to bring to life?
Klassen: I really liked the beginning spread, where we first meet the troll. The illustration only takes up like a fifth of the page space and you barely see him. Book illustrations, for me, aren’t about single spreads and how great they can be; they are about consecutive storytelling and setting something up and hopefully paying it off. Even though, on its own, that first spread doesn’t show very much, it’s got a lot of tension and promise, and I like that a lot. 

What was challenging about illustrating the goats and the troll? What was enjoyable?
Klassen: The goats were very fun because they are the straight men in this story. Their job is to play it cool and look at the troll like he’s ridiculous. From the start they’ve got a solid, coordinated plan to deal with him, and they’re never scared, so they get to be almost like statues of goats that move on- and offstage when the story tells them to, and that’s about it.

The troll took a minute to figure out. My first few stabs were a little too human. The main thing I wanted to keep about him was my impression, from illustrations of trolls when I was growing up, that they almost look like they’re part of the ground they inhabit. It’s not as much about the details or a specific anatomy as it is about them almost being hidden, and then you see their eyes in there somewhere.

Mac, the troll speaks mostly in rhyme, a technique you haven’t often employed. How did you arrive at this? 
Barnett: I love poetry and poetic forms. I studied poetry and for a long time, well into college, I thought I might become a poet. Fairy tales often move from poetry to prose, so I thought it’d be fun to do that here. Jon’s staging of this story is very theatrical, and I think the troll’s poetry feels similarly performative: He’s chewing the scenery and really inhabiting his trollness . . . until it all breaks down.

We spend most of the book in one location: the bridge beneath which the troll lives. Jon, how did you decide what this would look like?
Klassen: When I first took on the book, I bought an old book on bridge design. I was all excited about doing it in this historical way, but then the more I sat with the story, the more it seemed like the right answer was actually a very, very simple bridge that was probably made by hand and maybe wasn’t even used by people anymore. The troll had claimed it long ago, and he’s not much on upkeep. Like the troll, the planks of the bridge almost merge with the ground, and they’ve got grass and vines growing on them. I wanted the wood to feel soft. 

“Book illustrations, for me, aren’t about single spreads and how great they can be; they are about consecutive storytelling and setting something up and hopefully paying it off.”

The troll’s decor started with the skull hanging from the bridge, and then I added some bones around him. The team at Scholastic liked this direction and kept embellishing on what else he’d have down there, so now we have some playing cards and a boot and an old can—just stuff that might’ve floated downriver at some point. I think there’s a lot of downtime under there between potential meals crossing the bridge.

What are your favorite illustrations in the book? 
Klassen: My favorite is the page where all three goats are eating in the meadow near the end. They look safe and satisfied, and it’s just a really strong moment. The story is mainly about justice against this antagonistic force, which is simple enough, but the result ended up hitting me harder than I expected it to. I think it’s one of the better spreads Mac and I have done together in any of our books. 

Barnett: He texted [that spread] to me as soon as he’d finished it, which he only does when he’s really excited about something, and it totally knocked me over. 

One thing we do in this book is make the third goat ridiculously large. Most of the time, the progression of goats in this story goes small, medium, large. Sometimes you get an extra-large goat at the end. But we go small, medium, enormous—absolutely gargantuan, bigger than any goat in the history of picture books. We thought it would be funny. 

Our version, like the original tale, ends with all the goats together, eating on the grassy ridge. And this picture is of three goats, one of whom is just ridiculously huge, enjoying a nice meal at sunset, completely at peace. And while the visual joke is still present, the image is so sweet and peaceful and moving. I cried when I saw it. 

In a lot of our books together, Jon and I like to see what’s on the other side of a running gag. What do you find when you exhaust the joke, but still keep telling the story? The answer, often, is the sublime. 

This book contains a litany of ways in which the troll dreams of preparing and eating goat. If you were a troll, what would be your favorite way to eat goat?
Klassen: I don’t think it’s a secret that neither Mac or I give too much thought to the overt lessons our books might teach, but if there is a lesson in here anywhere, it’s that we should probably lay off the goat-eating. 

If you encountered a troll beneath a bridge you needed to cross, what would you do? 
Klassen: I’d probably deliberate on the edge for a little while, then suddenly make a run for it across the bridge, be caught three steps in and eaten immediately.

Barnett: I’d try to sneak across while the troll is eating Jon.

Read our review of ‘The Three Billy Goats Gruff.’

Photo of Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen courtesy of Carson Ellis.

Two award-winning children’s book creators reveal how they told their story about some goats and a troll under a bridge.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Walter Had a Best Friend

Review by Deborah Hopkinson

This deceptively simple picture book explores the emotions we feel when friendships end. Deborah Underwood’s story focuses on Walter, a rodent-ish fellow with white fur, round ears and a long pink tail. Walter’s best friend is Xavier, a yellow duck-like creature whose feet and flat beak are green.

The two friends do everything together. They hike, paint pictures, float in a rowboat and just enjoy sitting quietly. Their friendship changes, however, when a hedgehog named Penelope appears, and she and Xavier begin spending more time with each other. 

Gradually, Walter’s world is transformed. He experiences anger, loneliness and sadness as Xavier gravitates more and more toward Penelope. Especially evocative is a scene in which Penelope and Xavier have invited Walter to a ball game. It rains, and the new friends share an umbrella while Walter sits apart from them, miserable and wet. 

Underwood’s spare text provides ample space for illustrator Sergio Ruzzier’s surreal, otherworldly landscapes and bright pastel color palette. Ruzzier depicts the impact of Walter’s loss in approachable, moving images. For instance, we learn that Walter is quiet, “but it was a sad quiet. Not best friend quiet.” The accompanying spread shows Walter sitting alone on a dock; a dangling rope nearby suggests that the rowboat has been launched without him. He has lost not only his friend but also the pleasures they enjoyed together.

Just as Walter loses his friendship with Xavier slowly, his recovery is also slow, But he misses the activities he used to do with Xavier, so one bright day, when rays of sunshine beam through the closed curtains at his house, he just can’t resist the urge to go on a hike. Instead of taking the old trail, he strikes out on a new one—and discovers the promise of a new friendship along the way.

The book’s gentle pace, engaging artwork and lyrical yet straightforward text make this a comforting, reassuring read for young readers experiencing transitions at school or with friends. Walter Had a Best Friend is a gem.

When Walter’s best friend finds a new best friend, Walter’s world is transformed in this comforting, reassuring picture book.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

The Tryout

Review by Emily Koch

Christina lives in Grangeview, Texas, population 12,000, where she’s used to being one of the only Asian American students in her classes. She’s dealt with teachers who struggle to pronounce her last name and classmates who make fun of her lunch. When she explains that her dad is from Thailand, another student corrects her: “I think you mean Taiwan.”

As The Tryout opens, Christina feels ready to take on middle school, but she doesn’t have any classes with her Iranian American best friend, Megan, whose own experiences of standing out in Grangeview uniquely enable her to understand Christina. So when Megan asks Christina to try out for the cheerleading squad, Christina agrees enthusiastically. Beneath the surface of The Tryout’s seemingly simple story of friendship and cheerleading lies a compassionate exploration of identity, what it means to be a good friend and the pull of popularity. 

Two-time 2021 Newbery Honor author Christina Soontornvat has written middle grade fiction and nonfiction as well as picture books. The Tryout is her first graphic novel as well as her first book with autobiographical elements. As a narrator, her fictional self embraces the complexities of life on the cusp of adolescence; she sees through social norms but still longs to be perceived positively by her peers. When Megan explains the Texas homecoming custom of enormous corsages called mums, Christina says that it’s “such a weird tradition,” but a thought bubble reveals that she’s also thinking, “I totally want one.” As she learns from some pretty big mistakes, Christina also reminds readers that raising themselves up isn’t worthwhile if it means putting others down.

Debut illustrator Joanna Cacao thoroughly captures the capricious side of middle school, and her dynamic panels convey Christina’s constantly shifting moods. Darkly colored patterns surround Christina when she is feeling self-conscious, creating an effective contrast to the light, glittery backgrounds of the ethereal cheerleading squad. In an especially impactful touch, similar sparkles appear behind Christina when she’s feeling confident. 

In her author’s note, Soontornvat explains that she never thought she would share the story in The Tryout, until she realized that “talking to one another and sharing our stories is how we make change.” The result is a book that balances loving where you’re from and still wanting to see it improve. The Tryout is a strong addition to the rapidly growing genre of autobiographical graphic novels for middle grade readers that will fit wonderfully on shelves alongside Kathryn Ormsbee and Molly Brooks’ Growing Pangs, Damian Alexander’s Other Boys and Tyler Page’s Button Pusher.

In her first graphic novel, Newbery Honor author Christina Soontornvat offers a compassionate exploration of identity, friendship and the pull of popularity.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Too Early

Review by Lisa Bubert

“I wake up very early,” says the unnamed protagonist of Nora Ericson and Elly MacKay’s picture book. Too early, the child’s father repeatedly echoes as he rouses himself from bed to make the coffee, wake the dogs but not the baby, and sit outside to watch the sun rise with his little morning companion. 

Ericson’s story is poetic and sweet, one that every adult with a tiny early riser of their own will surely recognize. She pays particular attention to sounds. Daddy goes “shuffle shuffle down the stairs,” the dogs “snuffle snuffle, s-t-r-e-e-e-t-c-h-h-h,” and then “burble burble goes the coffeepot.” Her words compel readers to speak them quietly: “Now the wind is waking. Tickle tickle on my cheeks, rustle rustle through the leaves.” The book’s soundscape gently awakens the mind and makes for an engaging, comforting read.

The book’s warm lyricism becomes truly beautiful when paired with MacKay’s illustrations, which perfectly capture the experience of a sleepy morning routine. MacKay washes every spread in hushed blues, from the deep navy of a bedroom shadow, to the blue-gray steam rising from Daddy’s coffee cup to fog up his glasses, to the nearly white-blue light of daybreak. The book is packed with noteworthy images, such as when the small child, lovey in tow, stands silhouetted in the doorway of Mama and Daddy’s bedroom. In the darkness before dawn, stars twinkle over the quiet front porch. The moon glows above as the family watches from below. “Hello, Moon,” the child says. “You’re lucky, you get to stay up all night.” 

Too Early is an ideal book for adults and children to enjoy together, especially on one of those snoozy mornings when no one feels quite ready to face the world just yet. Go ahead, it says. Snuggle up and enjoy a little lie-in, with coffee for the grown-up, warm milk for the little one and a glorious sunrise to start the day. 

Too Early is the perfect picture book to snuggle up with on a sleepy morning when neither adults nor little ones feel ready for the day to begin just yet.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston

Review by RJ Witherow

In the royal city of Helston, everyone has a role they’re forced to play. Girls are taught to control their natural magical abilities and restricted from using their powers for anything beyond simple domestic and decorative arts. Boys are trained in combat, expected to take up the sword against monsters and other enemies lurking on Helston’s borders. But when Callie, a nonbinary kid who dreams of becoming a knight like their father, arrives at the palace, they expose all the cracks in Helston’s rigidly gendered society. 

At the palace, Callie meets Prince Willow, who is useless with a sword but secretly blessed with magic, and Elowen, the chancellor’s daughter whose own magic goes far beyond what’s considered proper or safe. As war looms, Helston’s de facto ruler, Lord Peran, views anyone who won’t play by his rules as an enemy. He won’t hesitate to stamp out sparks of individuality wherever he finds them, including those within Callie, his own children and even the crown prince himself. 

Young readers will find a worthy hero in Callie, who displays boundless courage in defending both their convictions and their friends. Although many people in Helston perceive Callie as a girl and try to force them into dresses and magic lessons, Callie asserts their identity with confidence. Determined Callie, gentle Prince Willow and capable Elowen form a supportive trio who balance one another’s weaknesses and demonstrate a variety of ways to be strong. In battles against foes ranging from vicious wolves to familial expectations, Callie and their friends show tremendous heart in the face of every challenge.

At times, Helston’s oppressive culture can be quite heavy, as Callie endures frequent misgendering, navigates a society fraught with sexism and discovers both the emotional and physical abuse that cruel adults have inflicted on their new friends. While threats posed by dragons and witches will keep young readers engaged, Esme Symes-Smith’s debut novel ultimately seeks to confront far more realistic dangers. In clear and simple terms, Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston assures readers that, no matter what anyone else might say, a real fairy-tale ending means finding the space and support to thrive exactly the way you are. 

In this debut fantasy novel, young readers meet a worthy trio of heroes who balance one another’s weaknesses and demonstrate a variety of ways to be strong.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Little Echo

Review by Jill Lorenzini

Little Echo lives her life hidden away in the shadows of a cave. The bright yellow creature longs to join the cave’s other inhabitants as they frolic and play, but her terrible timidity keeps her silent and watchful. When someone loud, bold and adventurous stumbles into her cave on a quest for treasure, Little Echo has a chance to find more than just her voice—she might also find a friend. 

Little Echo, the debut picture book by author-illustrator Al Rodin, is a delightful story about searching for treasure and discovering something worth more than gold or jewels. Skillfully told, the book feels like a bedtime story composed in the moment, with just the right amount of description to seem spontaneous. Its simplicity is satisfying, its plot linear and its characters uncomplicated and kind. We can all remember times when we’ve wanted to join in but have been held back by shyness, and Rodin expertly captures that wonderful moment of feeling seen and embarking on an exciting journey with a new friend. 

Rodin’s text and art are notably interwoven. As voices echo around the cave, words in unique fonts and varying sizes erupt across the page and then fade away, creating a visual onomatopoeia. Vaguely defined but expressive shapes and visible brushstrokes strengthen the tale’s atmosphere of longing, while the cave itself, depicted with broad swaths of dark shades, reflects Echo’s sense of isolation. The world of this story feels deep and somewhat heavy, but the overall tone isn’t one of fear or danger thanks to Little Echo herself, whose large round ears and sweet face are instantly appealing. When the daring adventurer comes along, Little Echo’s whole world visibly brightens as she first follows his light and then begins to find her own.

Straightforward and charming, Little Echo will be especially loved by readers who know well the struggle to speak up. Rodin’s message is quiet and gentle, but clear: It’s so much easier to find your voice when you have someone to listen. 

This charming debut picture book expertly captures that wonderful moment of finally feeling seen and embarking on an exciting journey with a new friend.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

The Three Billy Goats Gruff

Review by Julie Danielson

Mac Barnett and Caldecott Medalist Jon Klassen take on the classic Norwegian fairy tale of comeuppance in The Three Billy Goats Gruff. Their rendition spends a notable amount of time with the tale’s villain, a remarkably creepy troll with spindly legs and pointy, fanglike teeth that protrude from his lower jaw. A skull dangles from the bridge that serves as his shelter, and he holds a fork and spoon, ready to dine. 

Barnett renders much of the troll’s dialogue in rhyme, particularly when the creature describes his appetite: “I am a troll. I live to eat. / I love the sound of hooves and feet / and paws and claws on cobblestones. / For that’s the sound of meat and bones!” Young readers will delight in the antagonist’s grossness, like when he uses a dirty fingernail to scrape a ball of hairy wax from his ears, because all he’s had to eat recently is “a leather boot and some goop he’d found in his belly button.”

Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen reveal how they’d try to outwit a troll.

This troll might be creepy, but he’s also devilishly funny. He compliments himself on outwitting the smallest goat, who has promised that his brothers are coming: “I’m so smart! And fun and handsome.” When he meets the largest of the three brothers, who is so tall that at first readers see only his furry shins, the troll is awestruck. In the wordless spread that follows, Klassen plays effectively with scale, depicting this final goat head-butting the troll, who flies off the verso, his fork trailing through the air behind him. 

The troll’s punishment involves a hilarious waterfall descent, but to say more would spoil the surprise. Until that point, the entire story unfolds at the bridge. A less-skilled illustrator might have hurt the story’s pace, but Klassen consistently adds visual interest through design choices, framing and details in the setting, such as the items scattered around the troll’s abode. 

This wickedly funny take will leave children clamoring for more. Fortunately, it’s the first in a planned series in which Barnett will retell classic fairy tales. If the volumes that follow are this stellar, readers are in good hands.  

Read our Q&A with ‘The Three Billy Goats Gruff’ author Mac Barnett and illustrator Jon Klassen.

In this retelling of the classic Norwegian fairy tale, the antagonist plays a creepy and devilishly funny role.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

A Seed in the Sun

Review by Emily Koch

Twelve-year-old Lula Viramontes longs to be heard. She’s scared to use her raspy voice to stand up to her volatile Papá, who has decided that Lula and her sister will stop attending school so they can work in the grape fields of Delano, California. Lula is also worried about her Mamá, whose sudden illness has likely been caused by pesticides. But she has a seed of hope: Some organizations are leading a strike for better working conditions, and she must find the courage to convince Papá to join them.

A Seed in the Sun is a well-researched glimpse into the 1965 Delano grape strike and the 1960s movement for labor justice. Through Lula’s experiences, author Aida Salazar invites readers into the life of a child working in dangerous conditions. In an author’s note, Salazar is quick to point out that Lula’s reality still exists for many young people today, since “United States child labor laws (which protect children from exploitation) don’t apply to farmwork—the only industry in the nation that does not abide by them.” While the Viramontes are fictional, Lula and her family encounter real activists such as Dolores Huerta, Larry Itliong and Cesar Chavez. 

In two previous novels (The Moon Within and Land of the Cranes), Salazar established herself as an expert writer of middle grade verse narratives filled with beautiful metaphors and similes. Her skill is evident here, as when Lula describes her voice as “an orange-yellow mist / that comes and goes / like clouds.” Salazar also intersperses Spanish throughout all of her novels, which lends authenticity to her verse. Although non-Spanish speakers will easily discern the meaning of most of the book’s Spanish words and phrases from context, fluent Spanish speakers and those who use a dictionary or translator as they read will be rewarded with treasures, like how the book’s six section titles are words that signify aspects of the harvesting season.

Salazar’s text is dynamic, with words that flow across the page. Each poem has its own pattern, and Salazar is creative with indentation, alignment and overall form. For instance, when Lula and her sister go behind their father’s back to get union cards, Salazar relays what happens next in a single block of full-justified text, conveying Lula’s excitement and nervousness about her passionate rebellion. 

Readers gravitate toward middle grade historical fiction because it makes complex history tangible. A Seed in the Sun deserves a space on the shelf alongside Brenda Woods’ When Winter Robeson Came, which portrays another social justice movement in 1965 California, and Pam Muñoz Ryan’s Pura Belpré Award-winning Esperanza Rising, a modern classic of children’s literature that depicts the experiences of migrant workers.

Aida Salazar’s third novel in verse is a well-researched glimpse into the 1965 Delano grape strike as seen through the eyes of 12-year-old Lula Viramontes.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

Middle grade author Claire Swinarski believes ‘telling the truth is a brave act’

Interview by Linda M. Castellitto

When Anna Hunt starts eighth grade at East Middle School, she soon realizes there’s something strange going on. Rachel Riley, once a key member of the popular crowd, is now shunned by everyone. When Anna casually inquires about why, she’s met with awkward silences and angry looks. An aspiring journalist, Anna decides to investigate What Happened to Rachel Riley? Peer pressure, sexual harassment and the struggle to do the right thing collide in Claire Swinarski’s timely and inspiring feminist middle grade novel.

What Happened to Rachel Riley? is dedicated to “eighth grade girls everywhere,” and Anna’s older sister validates Anna’s emotions by telling her that “eighth grade sucks.” What was eighth grade like for you?
Eighth grade stank. Ha! I don’t know many people who look back fondly on their middle school years, and it makes me sad. Like so many other women, my middle school years were full of backstabbing, gossip and hurtful interactions. I wish I could be more positive about it, and there are a handful of memories I can look back on with joy. Because the year was so hard, those stand out all the brighter. But overall, I certainly struggled in middle school. There were so many moments of feeling awkward and left out. And we didn’t even have smartphones!  

The novel is told not only through Anna’s narration but also through text messages, notes, emails, flyers and transcripts from the podcast Anna creates. Did you incorporate these formats into the book from the beginning?
The unique formatting of the book was there since the very beginning. I’ve always wanted to write a book in this type of multimedia format. I feel that it lends itself so well to mysteries. As characters try to solve a complex question, they aren’t just talking to people. They’re also looking at documents, using search engines, sending emails. . . . It also just makes sense for a middle grade book in 2023 to feature text messages and social media comments, since that’s how so many kids communicate these days.

What was challenging about writing a book with this format?
The most challenging part was coming up with unique, original ways to share information. I could have done all emails, or all text messages, but that would have gotten pretty boring pretty quickly. That’s why there are things like police reports, podcast transcripts and Christmas card letters too. Landing on the perfect idea for how to transmit information always felt great. The design team knocked it out of the park. When I first saw the illustrations of things like a crumpled-up birthday party invitation, I literally squealed with joy!

“Kids can often handle more than we give them credit for. The middle schoolers I know are smart, passionate, and curious—just like Anna.”

Anna’s family, from her parents and older sister to her grandmother, who lives in Poland, play such a big role in her life. Middle grade novels often relegate their protagonists’ families to the background, but you made them a vital element of Anna’s story. Why?
When I was in middle school, my family played a huge role in my life. As a 13-year-old, you have so little say in so many aspects of your day. You aren’t deciding whether or not to go to school, or what classes to take, or what to have for dinner. You aren’t deciding who you live with or even which bedroom is yours! So I find that family units have to play a large role in a great middle grade story.

Beneath the veneer of school spirit at Anna’s new school lies a troubling secret that involves peer pressure, bullying and misogyny. Anna soon discovers that the pressure to treat it as no big deal is intense and unrelenting. What drew you to exploring this subject for middle grade readers?
I very clearly remember being a middle schooler and desperately wanting to come across as laid-back. You were supposed to laugh everything off—mean jokes, bullying and sexual harassment. If you took anything seriously, you were labeled as uptight or a drama queen. It was better to be literally anything else. I got to thinking about why that was and wanted to explore it in a story. Why is that particular age group so obsessed with not making waves in social settings?

Two of my favorite characters in the book are the founders of a club based on global issues. In our current time, we see a lot of middle schoolers getting passionate about huge political topics. They want to be activists, and if they’re fighting for good causes, that’s fantastic. But sometimes the best way to change the world is to change the hallway. Shedding that fear of being seen as dramatic, especially for girls, can be step one.

What would you say to an adult who thinks that middle grade books shouldn’t include the kinds of subjects, experiences or emotions depicted in this novel?
As a mom, I completely understand wanting your kids to be surrounded by books that are good and hopeful. I think it’s a mark of an invested parent to be concerned with what media your kids are consuming. At the same time, we can’t understate how important it is for kids to be surrounded by books that represent a true depiction of the world they live in. 

No matter what your schooling situation is, your middle schooler is more than likely going to witness, perform or receive sexual harassment. How are they prepared to handle that? Stories can be a safe space to work out those kinds of conversations together. Wouldn’t you rather be the person talking about that with them, versus whatever they’re going to pick up from friends or TikTok? I know I would be.

Kids can often handle more than we give them credit for. The middle schoolers I know are smart, passionate, and curious—just like Anna. What they need are adults who are ready to have these kinds of conversations with them.

“A lot of middle schoolers [are] getting passionate about huge political topics. They want to be activists, and if they’re fighting for good causes, that’s fantastic. But sometimes the best way to change the world is to change the hallway.”

Anna eventually realizes that being brave and speaking out might give her classmates the courage to do the same. What do you hope young readers might take away from this part of her story?
Telling the truth is a brave act. But it’s also about how we tell the truth. What are we hoping to get out of it? Anna’s goal isn’t to ruin anyone’s life or to shame anyone. It’s just to help people see the error of their ways and correct them. Also, Anna doesn’t have all the answers. She takes the posture of a learner throughout the book, bringing in adults she trusts to help her. 

I hope young readers walk away from What Happened to Rachel Riley? knowing that it isn’t enough to want to be a change-maker or to want things to change without taking any action. You have to make the change in a way that’s positive and kind and truthful, and then you have to stay hopeful when there are bumps in the road. That staying-hopeful part can often be the trickiest bit. But it’s essential.

Read our starred review of Claire Swinarski’s ‘What Happened to Rachel Riley?’

Author photo of Claire Swinarski courtesy of Mary Clare LoCoco Photography.

In Claire Swinarski’s epistolary mystery, the new girl at school uncovers a troubling secret hiding in the halls of eighth grade.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

Keeping a young girl company as she walks through grief

Interview by Alice Cary

Twelve-year-old Millie is thrilled to work her first babysitting job, but her world turns upside down the morning after, when she learns that her four-month-old charge, Lola, has died of SIDS. In her second middle grade novel, Liz Garton Scanlon beautifully depicts a middle schooler navigating an unspeakable tragedy.

Let’s start with this book’s striking cover. In the book’s acknowledgments, you write that one of your best friends created the embroidery that serves as the cover image. How did this come about? 
I can’t get over that art, honestly. Jill Turney, Amelia Mack and Angie Kang (the book’s designers and design fellow) conceived of the image—a mashup of stitchery and sorcery. And then—it’s true!—they partnered with my friend Kathie Sever, founder of Fort Lonesome, a chain-stitch embroidery studio in Austin, Texas, where we both live. The art was made on a weighty piece of black linen, and I think it speaks to the heart and soul of this project, piercing darkness straight through with the abiding possibilities of love and light.

How did Lolo’s Light start for you? 
The first scene I imagined was the one in Chapter 3, where Millie finds herself in the gorgeous airiness of the Acostas’ house, babysitting for the very first time and enraptured by the importance of her circumstances. It all seems almost too good to be true, which is a very good place to start a story, on the cusp between the before and after. I teetered there for a while with Millie, and then we fell headlong into the story.

Tell us more about Millie, who she is and where she’s at as the novel opens.
I think Millie is like many of us at 12 years old—happy and also restless. She has friends and smarts and good dogs and confidence, but what she really wants is to be grown up. That yearning to be on the other side of the invisible line between childhood and whatever-happens-next—it’s so palpable and so universal. But, of course, it’s also inevitably more complicated than we think it will be.

“Not every adult can walk alongside kids as they struggle and crack and grow, but I wanted Millie to have some of the good ones—the brave ones.”

After Lolo dies, Millie must confront all kinds of emotions. As you created her journey through grief, what was most important to you to get right about her experience? 
I wanted to look at grief honestly—especially this first, great grief—and to allow all the nuances of it to play out for Millie. I wanted to show, for example, that while it’s unbelievably hard to feel responsible, it’s also heartbreaking when you realize you’re not, that nobody is, that there was nothing anyone could have done to change what happened. 

It was also really important to me to depict grief as a journey, as something shifting over time, as something Millie navigated and grew within and maybe even eventually understood. I just aimed to see her through it, and there were so many layers and facets and stages to illuminate along the way.

Let’s talk about the adults in this novel, because there are a bunch of really great ones. Why was it important to you to surround Millie with so many adults, particularly when children’s literature often goes out of its way to eliminate adults from narratives? 
I wanted to make sure Millie was not alone as she walked through grief. It’s as simple as that. Even when she felt alone, I wanted her surrounded by wisdom and experience and kindness and love. Not every adult in the real world is good at this. Not every adult can walk alongside kids as they struggle and crack and grow, but I wanted Millie to have some of the good ones—the brave ones. She needed them. Every kid does.

Millie’s class’s egg-hatching project works so beautifully within the story. Based on your acknowledgments, it sounds like you have experienced similar activities as both an elementary school student and as a parent. Did you by any chance attempt to re-create this project for research? 
Ha—I did not re-create the project but just you asking makes me wish that I had! I did hatch eggs in science class as a kid and I did win the chance to take one of the resulting chicks home. It wasn’t until I was on the school bus with a big box on my lap that I realized the chick was already becoming a rooster who would not do well with my dogs or upon the top of my dresser. That poor bird was rapidly rehomed!

”When adults suggest that kids shouldn’t read or know or think about those things, kids feel shame and confusion and loneliness and fear. Let’s not do that to them.”

What are some things you think novelists could learn from reading or writing picture books?
Picture books center the child and the child’s perspective in a most remarkable way. There is something about having to consider the very youngest humans—the pre- and early readers— having to witness and reflect what they love and fear and want and need that can help us in the practice of writing through and of kids rather than to or for them.

Although this is not your first novel, you have written many picture books. What do you find challenging about novels? 
I’m a short-form writer at heart, so writing a novel is a very real effort in opening up, in giving each moment and every character a little more breathing room. It’s a matter of trying to evoke meaning and emotions with the same potency I might in a picture book, but holding the reader’s gaze while I do.

You addressed a note that accompanied advance editions of this book to “adult readers.” In it, you wrote, “The grown-up world has not, historically, done a great job of acknowledging or attending to young people’s feelings.” What would you say to an adult who thinks that children’s books shouldn’t include the kinds of subjects and emotions depicted in Lolo’s Light? 
I would say, “I understand your worry and your love, but kids are simply young human beings who wonder about and reckon with things like loss and grief and heartache just like we do! When adults suggest that kids shouldn’t read or know or think about those things, kids feel shame and confusion and loneliness and fear. Let’s not do that to them. Let’s not make things worse. Let’s, instead, keep them company.”

What do you hope a kid who finds themselves in a similar situation to Millie’s might take away from Lolo’s Light? 
Honestly, I hope all kids everywhere grow to know that there’s a light they can count on, a light that can be seen through cracks and curtains, in friendships and in family and in themselves. Even on the darkest days with the sharpest edges there is still a living, humming, human light—a bioluminescent beacon—there to see them through.

Lolo’s Light contains some egg-cellent puns. I’m curious: If you had the opportunity to name a flock of chickens, what do you think would make some egg-ceptional chicken names? 
Oh now THIS is a fun prompt. I’m going to go for a girl group—we’ll call them The Chicks— made up of Eggetha, Yolko and Henifer. They’ll be a power trio.

Read our starred review of ‘Lolo’s Light.’

Author photo of Liz Garton Scanlon courtesy of Elizabeth McGuire.

In Lolo’s Light, Liz Garton Scanlon captures the hard work of healing from an unspeakable tragedy.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

This Appearing House

Review by Stephanie Appell

When a house appears one day at the end of Juniper Drive, Jacqueline “Jac” Price-Dupree’s reaction isn’t what you’d expect from most 12-year-olds, but Jac isn’t like most 12-year-olds. Five years ago, she was diagnosed with a cancer that should have killed her—but didn’t. Ever since, Jac has been haunted by the fear that it might return, so when she sees the house, she wonders if it’s a hallucination. If it’s a symptom.

Jac confirms that the house is definitely real when she, her friend Hazel and two neighborhood bullies become trapped inside it. As they search for a way out, the house conjures surreal terrors that all seem connected to Jac’s deepest fears, from a library filled with typewriters clacking out sickening missives, to a horrifying creature called the Mourner that stalks them through the house, to a message scrawled on the kitchen wall: “The House You’ve Been Entering Always. Welcome Home, Jac.”

‘This Appearing House’ author Ally Malinenko reveals what keeps her coming back to horror.

Author Ally Malinenko’s second middle grade horror novel, This Appearing House, contains plenty of imaginative frights to creep out even the most fearless young connoisseur of scary stories. But by creating a house that’s haunted by Jac’s fears of her cancer’s recurrence, Malinenko brilliantly transforms her novel into a survival tale of the truest kind. In order to escape the house, Jac must find the answer to a question that every person who has lived through—or continues to live with—the trauma of serious illness must eventually confront: How do you keep living when you have come so close to death? 

Through Jac, Malinenko also offers a vital corrective to narratives of disease and disability still commonplace in children’s literature. “Warriors. That’s what they called kids like her. But Jac didn’t feel like a warrior,” Malinenko writes. As she sensitively evokes Jac’s experience of diagnosis and treatment, Malinenko expertly captures the way stories that encourage people to “be brave” and “never stop fighting,” can become traps, prisons in which no admissions of fear or vulnerability can be admitted. Early in the novel, when Jac breaks a ceramic bowl she’d been working on in art class, her teacher offers a moving new perspective: “Everything breaks. . . . But everything can be remade. There is beauty in the breaking and remaking of a thing.”   

At once an inventive and satisfying haunted house story and a powerful exploration of coming to terms with and beginning to heal from trauma, This Appearing House is a triumph.  

Read our Q&A with ‘This Appearing House’ author Ally Malinenko.

By creating a house haunted by a young girl’s fear of the recurrence of her serious illness, author Ally Malinenko brilliantly transforms This Appearing House into a survival tale of the truest kind.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

The Real Dada Mother Goose

Review by Julie Danielson

Guided by Dadaism, an art movement that sought to reject logic, author Jon Scieszka and illustrator Julia Rothman turn traditional nursery rhymes on their heads in the playful, subversive The Real Dada Mother Goose. 

Nonsense and absurdity take center stage as Scieszka and Rothman spin and twist six evergreen verses inside out and upside down. Each verse is transformed into multiple new versions; some change structure and even switch mediums entirely. Among the renditions of “Humpty Dumpty” are a “boring” version, in which the famous royal horses and horsemen don’t “really have / do to anything,” a censored version with key words concealed by blue rectangles and a version translated into a series of foreign languages. “Jack Be Nimble” is presented in both secret codes and Esperanto, a well-known constructed language, while “Hickory Dickory Dock” is written partially in Egyptian hieroglyphs. “Hey Diddle Diddle” becomes a haiku, and “Twinkle Twinkle” is transformed into a rebus picture puzzle.

The ideal readers for this 80-page picture book will be elementary school children who are past nursery rhymes and consider themselves world-weary enough to want to poke fun at their toddler years. If those children also like solving puzzles, even better: The book’s abundant, inviting backmatter provides definitions for and explanations of how to work with the many devices employed in the book, such as anagrams, Spoonerisms (“Nack be jimble. / Quack be jick.”), the NATO phonetic alphabet and more. 

The book is dedicated to Blanche Fisher Wright, who illustrated the popular The Real Mother Goose in 1916 and whose art is reproduced throughout these pages. A biographical note about her as well as a bibliography of her titles is included in the backmatter. Rothman inserts her own impish, comical drawings around reproductions of Wright’s work, such as in the “Jabberwocky” version of “Old Mother Hubbard,” where the title character appears with three heads. Rothman also populates the pages with “Dada Geese,” who serve as guides through this madcap adventure. 

The Real Dada Mother Goose is a thoroughly entertaining book enhanced by detailed and plentiful backmatter. This handbook for creative mischief is sure to inspire many hours of Dadaist delight. 

Nonsense and absurdity take center stage as Jon Scieszka and Julia Rothman turn six evergreen Mother Goose verses upside down and inside out.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

The Door of No Return

Review by Emily Koch

Kwame Alexander opens a planned historical fiction trilogy with The Door of No Return, which takes place in 1860, near the end of the transatlantic slave trade. Eleven-year-old Kofi Offin lives in the Asante kingdom, in what is now Ghana. Kofi holds deep respect for his grandfather, the village storyteller, who always begins his stories by saying, “There was even a time . . .” In this time, Kofi has a crush on Ama, a girl in his class. In this time, Kofi and Ama’s teacher forces them to speak English instead of their native language, or face the wrath of his cane. And in this time, Kofi’s older brother, Kwasi, will unintentionally alter the fate of their entire family, and Kofi will have to draw on all of his grandfather’s wisdom to survive.

Alexander has been convincing middle grade readers that poetry is cool since his 2014 book, The Crossover, for which he won the Newbery Medal. Like many of Alexander’s earlier books, The Door of No Return is told mostly in enthralling, action-packed verse. Alexander is an eloquent craftsman with a deep awareness of the power of every word in a verse novel, and that awareness shines on every page of this book. Typographic manipulation, such as changing the size of the text, is used sparingly, which makes those moments particularly impactful.

Cover image for The Door of No Return audiobook
Read our review of the audiobook for ‘The Door of No Return,’ narrated by Kobna Holdbrook-Smith.

The book is not entirely written in verse, however. Each of its seven chapters begin with a prose story narrated by Kofi’s grandfather, Nana Mosi. These tales offer context and foreshadowing in equal measure, culminating in a heartbreaking ode to storytellers, “The Story of the Story,” in which Nana Mosi warns that “until the lions tell their side of the story, the tale of the hunt will always celebrate the hunter.” 

Some of Alexander’s most beloved works, including The Crossover, incorporate sports as both subjects and extended metaphors. Alexander continues—and elevates—this approach in The Door of No Return through Kofi’s aptitude for swimming. Kofi receives his second name, Offin, because he was born in the very river where he now finds sanctuary after school.

The story of African Americans did not begin during the middle passage. Every person who was enslaved came from a home with a rich history and unique culture. Their stories have been told in excellent books for young readers, including Sharon Draper’s Copper Sun; Nikole Hannah-Jones, Renée Watson and Nikkolas Smith’s The 1619 Project: Born on the Water; and Ashley Bryan’s Freedom Over Me. But many more are needed, and there’s no one better to add to this vital canon than Alexander.

Kwame Alexander brings his deep awareness of the power of verse to this story of an African boy named Kofi, set near the end of the transatlantic slave trade.

Sign Up

Stay on top of new releases: Sign up for our newsletter to receive reading recommendations in your favorite genres.

Sign up now

Recent Reviews

All Reviews

Author Interviews

More Interviews

Recent Features

All Features