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In the year 2061, Halley’s comet is on a crash course with Earth, and life on the planet is destined to end. Only three ships of colonists, including 12-year-old Petra Peña and some members of her family, have a chance at survival on another world. When Petra imagines her future on the distant planet Sagan, she dreams of becoming a storyteller like the grandmother she must leave behind on Earth.

When Petra wakes from suspended animation after almost four centuries of space travel, she learns that the colonists did successfully reach Sagan, but an extremist faction known as the Collective took over the ship while she slept. These descendants of the non-suspended colonists believe that peace can only be achieved when every human being is exactly the same; they even genetically alter their skin to be colorless and transparent. Petra is the only person left whose memories of Earth have not been erased by the Collective’s technology. She must use her wits and her stories to outsmart the Collective and fight for humanity’s legacy.

Petra’s love of storytelling forms the heart of The Last Cuentista. To communicate the sheer scope of what could be lost if the Collective succeeds, author Donna Barba Higuera references both traditional and contemporary tales, from the epic of “Gilgamesh” to Yuyi Morales’ 2018 picture book, Dreamers. Yet even as Petra seeks to protect the past, she doesn’t shy away from change. She often tweaks the stories she retells and reminisces on her grandmother’s own embellishments, beautifully demonstrating how even our oldest and most cherished stories continue to grow with us.

Particularly fitting for a novel about storytelling, the language Higuera employs is powerful and effective. The somber and sterile ship, the Collective members’ eerily transparent skin and the lush alien world of Sagan are all portrayed in transporting detail. Higuera establishes a tense mood early on and preserves that tension throughout, while still creating spaces in which she quietly explores Petra’s intense feelings of grief, hope and love. The contrast between these elements is balanced and complements the novel’s bittersweet narrative.

Readers will find in The Last Cuentista a promise that the past is not the enemy of the future, but a gift that grants the perspective to meet that future with compassion and bravery.

Light-years from home, Petra must use her love of storytelling to fight for the future of humanity in The Last Cuentista, Donna Barba Higuera's powerful science fiction tale.

Bestselling author Steve Sheinkin is best known for his 2012 book, Bomb: The Race to Build—and Steal—the World’s Most Dangerous Weapon, which was a National Book Award finalist, a Newbery Honor book and winner of the Robert F. Sibert Informational Book Medal. Fallout: Spies, Superbombs, and the Ultimate Cold War Showdown is another engrossing work of nonfiction that reads like a page-turning spy thriller as it takes up the issue of nuclear weapons and international politics in a wide-ranging, information-packed account of the Cold War, including the development of the hydrogen bomb and the tensions between the Soviet Union and the United States that nearly erupted into war during the Cuban missile crisis.

Sheinkin clearly knows this terrain like the back of his hand, and his narrative jumps nimbly from Soviet spy Rudolf Abel’s secretive life in New York City (which will remind adult readers of the popular FX show “The Americans”), to the rise of Soviet leader Nikita Krushchev after the death of Josef Stalin, to the scientists developing the hydrogen bomb, and finally to President John F. Kennedy as he faced a terrifying standoff in October 1962. The Cuban missile crisis, Sheinkin observes, “was a bit like a chess match between grandmasters.” As he depicts the conflict between two world powers, even readers familiar with the details of the crisis and its resolution will find themselves on the edge of their seats.

Although Fallout’s primary narrative ends there, Sheinkin follows up on the players in an epilogue, where he also includes a personal touch. He reflects on how, as a teen, he fully expected that he would experience nuclear war before he graduated from high school. 

In short chapters written in his signature energetic style, Sheinkin provides vivid details that keep interest high, such as 13 year-old paperboy Jimmy Bozart’s discovery of a nickel with a secret code hidden inside or the intricate tradecraft practiced by two Soviet agents as they jump out of subway cars at the last minute to lose a tail while en route to a secret meeting at the Bronx Zoo. (Who would have thought the Bronx Zoo was a rendezvous point for spies?) Even minor characters on this international chess board stand out. Sheinkin expertly balances action, historical context and the events of his narrative. Meticulously researched, Fallout includes copious source notes and an extensive bibliography. 

Fallout is a compelling read that provides a riveting picture of the events of the Cold War. It’s the work of a nonfiction master at his best.

Fallout is a compelling read that provides a riveting picture of the events of the Cold War. It’s the work of a nonfiction master at his best.

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Time is one of life’s biggest mysteries—and one of its greatest challenges. Author-illustrator Torben Kuhlmann explores the concept of time in another wildly imaginative mouse adventure, Einstein: The Fantastic Journey of a Mouse Through Space and Time.

Kuhlmann’s earlier books have explored flight (Lindbergh), space travel (Armstrong) and the ocean (Edison). All are lengthy picture books (this one has 128 pages), which allows plenty of room for his yarns to unfold. Their large trim size showcases a marvelous array of Kuhlmann’s finely detailed illustrations, ranging from luminous full-page spreads to comical spot illustrations that chronicle their heroes’ exploits.

In Einstein, said hero is an inquisitive, unnamed mouse who has been eagerly anticipating “the biggest cheese fair the world has ever seen,” only to discover that he has missed the fair by one day. His crushing disappointment makes him wonder, “How could one turn time backward?” and prompts his determined quest to do so. After physically trying to stop a variety of clocks and then consulting a fellow mouse in a clockmaker’s workshop, he eventually ends up in the patent office where Albert Einstein once worked. He studies Einstein’s theories and builds a time machine that transports him back to 1905, where he meets the legendary scientist.

Einstein is perfectly paced and full of suspense (Beware a menacing cat named Chronos!), and Kuhlmann’s humor shines in both text and illustrations. Early on, for instance, the narrator wryly points out that “The term ‘pocket watch’ wasn’t quite right from a mouse’s perspective.” Later, after one of Einstein’s books hits him on the head, the mouse ties an ice cube on top of his throbbing noggin. Scrumptious details like these fill every page; in fact, on that same spread, observant readers will see that the mouse has built a ladder with matchsticks for rungs to reach the top of his chalkboard.

Kuhlmann’s sepia-tone illustrations are so glorious because of the keen attention he pays to how things might look from a mouse’s perspective. His unique ability to combine fun, facts, science and biography makes Einstein a real triumph.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Einstein author-illustrator Torben Kuhlmann reveals what he has in common with his mousy heroes.

Author-illustrator Torben Kuhlmann explores the concept of time in another wildly imaginative mouse adventure, Einstein: The Fantastic Journey of a Mouse Through Space and Time.

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Living in a car isn’t really so bad. Not when Daddy makes a nice place to sleep in the back of the Suburban, and the bathrooms and showers in the RV park aren’t too far away. In Janet Fox’s Carry Me Home, things are tough for 12-year-old Lulu and her little sister, Serena, but not too tough, because they always have Daddy, and Daddy knows things will get better. And it seems like they really will—until Lulu wakes up one morning and Daddy isn’t there. 

After a few days go by and Daddy doesn’t come back, Lulu knows that she and Serena are on their own. Lulu is determined to keep them together, so she makes sure they get to school on time, visits the food pantry and the library and does just enough to keep well-intentioned teachers, librarians and after-school care providers from asking too many hard questions. But with no more money coming in and a cold Montana winter approaching, Lulu is running out of options.

Carry Me Home unspools in short chapters that alternate between the present and the past. Readers see Lulu and Serena’s lives when their mother was still alive and in the immediate aftermath of her death, giving them an understanding of how Lulu’s family came to be in this impossible situation and why she feels that the weight of her little family rests solely on her young shoulders. Fox gently depicts the way Lulu manages their basic needs while balancing the difficulties (and joys) of navigating a new school and finding her way in the world. 

With accessible prose, brisk pacing and well-developed characters, Fox’s empathetic novel encourages readers to understand how people experiencing homelessness are individuals with stories and, like everyone, deserve compassion and support.

In Janet Fox’s Carry Me Home, things are tough for 12-year-old Lulu and her little sister, Serena, but not too tough, because they always have Daddy, and Daddy knows things will get better.

When it comes to animals in picture books, bears have a long and storied history. Large or small, woodland creature or friendly plush toy, their contributions are undeniable. Jonathan Stutzman and Dan Santat’s Bear Is a Bear more than earns its place among the ranks of Winnie, Corduroy, Paddington, Little Bear and more.

Although this Bear is a teddy toy, Santat depicts him as an actual bear. When the winsome Bear is introduced to his little girl, she is a baby gnawing on a wooden block and he is “hopeful and shy.” He lowers his hulking body down onto the rug, lies on his tummy and smiles his most pleasing smile. The connection between them is instant: The baby attaches herself to Bear’s head like a suction cup (“Bear is a snack.”) before shooting snot directly at his face (“Bear is a tissue.”). Bear is undeterred, and soon he has become a “warm, soft pillow” on which the child drifts off to sleep.

As the girl grows up, Bear plays many parts, always going along with whatever she wants to do. Together, they dress up for tea parties, dig for buried treasure and peer up at the stars through a telescope. Bear is a “brave protector” in a scary thunderstorm and a tissue, again, when the girl reads a tear-jerking novel. When the girl goes off to college, Bear becomes “a scholar” and “a piece of home,” but eventually he is “a memory . . . covered in dust” in a trunk. But Bear is not forgotten, and soon he has a new role to play in the life of someone very important to his little girl.

Throughout the book, Caldecott Medalist Santat (The Adventures of Beekle) portrays Bear as a gentle giant who quickly earns a place in readers’ hearts. Santat’s illustrations are friendly and humorous, sure to remind adults of their own plush childhood friends who may also be tucked away in boxes. Stutzman’s language is gentle and has an appealing rhythm that’s ideal for bedtime. The book’s circular narrative and refrain of “Bear is a bear full of love” make for a satisfying read-aloud that’s charmingly nostalgic with just the right amount of sweetness.

Jonathan Stutzman and Dan Santat’s Bear Is a Bear more than earns its place among the ranks of Winnie, Corduroy, Paddington, Little Bear and more.

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Author-illustrator Hudson Talbott shares his personal experience of growing up with dyslexia in A Walk in the Words, a picture book that will help other “slow readers” feel seen and, refreshingly, celebrated.

In descriptive prose, Talbott takes us back to his childhood. An avid artist, he struggles with reading: “A whole page of text looked like a wall—keeping me out.” Long sentences are overwhelming, and he is the slowest reader in his class, which leaves him feeling ashamed.

Talbott’s bright watercolors playfully convey his early fear of books. On one spread, books (spines down and flapping like birds) chase him. In another, a book with all text and no pictures morphs into a purple monster with long claws. “ME EAT PICTURES! You read!” it growls.

As we see Talbott’s boyhood self “lost in a world of words,” his illustrations bring a forest metaphor to life. Young Talbott stands in a foreboding copse of trees while branches filled with long, complex words (“trepidation,” “impenetrable,” “undulating,” “ineffectual”) snake ominously around him.

But enough is enough. Talbott decides to “picture” his way out by looking for words in text that he knows and letting them “lead me into the story.” He also realizes that being a slow reader shouldn’t scare him and that many brilliant minds also found reading difficult. Here, Talbott imagines a “Slow Readers Hall of Fame” filled with the likes of Sojourner Truth, Babe Ruth and William Shakespeare.

Talbott does not mention dyslexia specifically until his author’s note at the end of the book. Whether a child is dyslexic or merely gaining reading fluency slower than their peers, they will appreciate all that Talbott does here to lift the stigma around those who don’t read quickly: “Slow readers savor the story!” he jubilantly exclaims as he depicts himself knocking down his literal “Wall of Shame,” a densely constructed barrier made of blocks of text.

A Walk in the Words is a welcome tale for readers everywhere who know that relishing a story at your own pace brings tremendous rewards.

Author-illustrator Hudson Talbott shares his personal experience of growing up with dyslexia in A Walk in the Words, a picture book that will help other “slow readers” feel seen and, refreshingly, celebrated.

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A Soft Place to Land, Janae Marks’ second middle grade novel, is a heartwarming story of family, friendship and one girl’s longing to find her place amid the world’s turmoil.

Until recently, 12-year-old Joy lived in a comfortable house with her loving parents and her little sister, Malia. But when Joy’s father loses his job, her parents must sell their house to avoid foreclosure. Joy and her family move to a small apartment, where she and Malia must share a bedroom. The financial stress also means her parents can no longer afford Joy’s piano lessons, which is a crushing blow because she loves music and aspires to become a film composer when she grows up.

Just when all seems lost, Joy meets a kindred spirit: Nora, a classmate who also lives in Joy’s new apartment building and has worries of her own. Nora introduces Joy to a secret hideout where they can escape their troubles and share secrets. The hideout becomes the titular soft place to land for Joy, Nora and the other kids in their apartment complex. 

In the hideout, friendships blossom and splinter. A shared passion inspires Joy and Nora to test their independence by starting a dog-walking business to earn money, which elicits interest and growing trust from their parents, but yields unanticipated results. Troubling hidden messages scrawled on the hideout’s wall leave Joy concerned, puzzled and wanting to do more to help the anonymous writer. 

The desire for a safe haven is shared by all of the novel’s characters. Chaos is everywhere, Joy discovers, but what matters is how you confront challenges, share what you’ve learned and invite others in. If you can find the strength and courage to do so, you may find that home has been right in front of you all along. 

A Soft Place to Land, Janae Marks’ second middle grade novel, is a heartwarming story of family, friendship and one girl’s longing to find her place amid the world’s turmoil.

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In a short introduction to Black Boy Joy, anthology editor Kwame Mbalia (Tristan Strong Punches a Hole in the Sky) reveals three secrets: He doesn’t like watching the news, he cries when he is happy, and he wants readers to be happy. He describes Black Boy Joy as what happened when he combined those three secrets with the contributions of 16 fellow Black authors.

In addition to his role as editor, Mbalia also contributes the book’s framing story, “The Griot of Grover Street,” in which 11-year-old Fortitude Jones is called away from his aunt’s funeral to help a strange older man travel through the mysterious space between worlds to collect moments of joy. A mix of well-known and up-and-coming authors, including Jason Reynolds, Varian Johnson, Tochi Onyebuchi and Jerry Craft, create the moments themselves in 16 stories that highlight the sweetness of the extraordinary and the ordinary.

Fantastical tales burst with the energy of intergalactic battles and magical games, and one story written in verse includes instructions for writing your own poem. In Lamar Giles’ incomparably titled “There’s Going to Be a Fight in the Cafeteria on Friday and You Better Not Bring Batman,” a boy named Cornell gets advice on a superpowered showdown from three generations of family members. In B.B. Alston’s “The McCoy Game,” two cousins reconnect after having grown apart. The young chef in Julian Winters’ “The Legendary Lawrence Cobbler” learns that his father’s love for him isn’t changed by the revelation that he likes boys. And a tween uses their 13th birthday as the occasion to come out as nonbinary in George M. Johnson’s “The Gender Reveal.”

Every story’s protagonist is instantly endearing as they offer humor and hope and share their fears and dreams. The stories are honest and fresh, and the affection each contributor must have felt for both their characters and the reader while writing comes through clearly on every page. Black Boy Joy is a treasure to share and return to again and again.

In a short introduction to Black Boy Joy, anthology editor Kwame Mbalia (Tristan Strong Punches a Hole in the Sky) reveals three secrets.

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When Nurah’s father gets a new job in America, her family is uprooted from Pakistan to Peachtree, Georgia, in search of new opportunities to blossom. But Nurah struggles to start fresh. She feels out of place at school, her older brother overshadows her on the swim team, the only new friend she’s made is dealing with trouble at home that Nurah feels powerless to help with, and she misses her grandmother’s flowers in Pakistan. When her father is questioned in the aftermath of a shooting and her brother is attacked in the locker room, Nurah tries to reconcile the America she was promised with the one she is actually experiencing.

Writing in spare but evocative verse, author Reem Faruqi creates a vivid and semiautobiographical tale of faith and family. She captures the beauty of Nurah’s culture, from the aroma of the flowers that Nurah misses to the delicious snacks that Nurah’s mother bakes when they receive visitors at their home. She also poignantly portrays what it’s like to start over someplace new and the way that Nurah remakes herself again and again as she comes into her own and discovers what is most important to her as a daughter, sister, friend and Muslim girl. Her lyrical vignettes are a master class in exploring big themes, including loss, grief, bullying, prejudice and acceptance, in exactly as many words as are necessary.

Unsettled will have readers rooting for Nurah as she swims her way across the finish line to a new understanding of herself and her place in the world.

When Nurah’s father gets a new job in America, her family is uprooted from Pakistan to Peachtree, Georgia, in search of new opportunities to blossom.

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In Nidhi Chanani’s enchanting Jukebox, a girl travels back in time but connects with the present.

Shaheen discovers the titular machine as she searches for her music-obsessed father, who has gone missing after they had an argument. She has enlisted her cousin, Tannaz, to help her find him, when the pair stumble upon the jukebox in the attic of her father’s favorite record shop and strange things start happening. With the spin of a record, the jukebox takes them on a magical mystery tour, transporting them to the pivotal places and moments in history that reflect the records it plays. They find themselves amid protest marches, epic concerts and more, all fueled by the legendary music of Nina Simone, James Brown, Marvin Gaye and more. Tannaz enjoys the ride, but Shaheen keeps her eyes peeled for her father and the chance to make things right between them.

Author-illustrator Chanani cleverly employs time travel in this middle grade graphic novel, using it to explore themes of family and friendship in what is ultimately a coming-of-age narrative. Her depictions of the power of music to connect us with history are touching.

Chanani’s illustrations are one of the best things about this book. In addition to graphic novels and picture books, Chanani has been a featured artist with Disney Parks, and her playful, colorful style is well suited to the story she tells here. Her characters have exaggeratedly large and expressive eyes, which lend themselves well to portraying emotions. And as you would expect in a book with music at its core, every page is infused with motion and action.

Although the mystery of the jukebox is eventually revealed, it’s clear that Shaheen’s journey is only just beginning. After all, as Stevie Wonder said, “Music, at its essence, is what gives us memories.”

In Nidhi Chanani’s enchanting Jukebox, a girl travels back in time but connects with the present.

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The moon is melting, but Granny saves the day in this picture book originally published in South Korea and translated into English by Jieun Kiaer. Author-illustrator Heena Baek won the 2020 Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award, and this is the first of her books to be published in English.

Based on the Korean fable of the moon rabbit, the tale takes place in a multistory apartment building at night. It stands tall against a pitch-black sky as we peer into each apartment to gaze at the tenants and their homes. The residents are anthropomorphized animals, and Granny is a bespectacled wolf. The summer heat is oppressive—“too hot to do anything”—and the sense of claustrophobia and sweat is palpable. Descriptive onomatopoeia (“whir-whir” and “hum-hum”) capture the animals’ attempts to cool off by firing up their air conditioners, turning on fans and opening refrigerator doors. 

When Granny discovers that the moon is melting—the dripping luminescent moon makes for a surreal and indelible image—she catches some drops in a bucket and whips up a batch of glowing moon pops, which cool everyone off. Then two hapless bucktoothed rabbits appear at her door. “Our home has melted away,” they explain. Ever resourceful, Granny brainstorms a creative way to send them back to their “home in the sky.” 

Baek illustrates the tale with photographs of intricate 3D dioramas that use light and shadow to beguiling effect. The image of the tenants enjoying their moon pops, which also adorns the book’s cover, shows the creatures gazing incredulously at their gleaming treats in the dark of night, their faces illuminated by their moon pops’ light. Granny’s solution for getting the rabbits back to their home on the moon also involves shimmering lights and wondrous, sparkling orbs that shine against the cloudy, starless night sky.  

Moon Pops is a strange and delightful tale made for lingering over—and perfect for reading with your own moon pop. (You can always grab an ice pop from the freezer and pretend it’s lunar.) Leave room on your summer reading list for this story that is cool in more ways than one. 

The moon is melting, but Granny saves the day in this picture book originally published in South Korea and translated into English by Jieun Kiaer.

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Kim Hyo-eun’s splendid picture book, originally published in South Korea in 2016 and translated into English by Deborah Smith, is told from the perspective of a subway train in Seoul: “Carrying people from one place to another, I travel over the ground and rumble under, twice across the wide Han River.” Three full spreads introduce us to this unique voice before we even arrive at the title page.  

Everyone has a story, and the train listens to and observes its passengers closely, capturing the nuances of the personalities who board at many stations. There’s Mr. Wanju, always running for the train so that he can spend as much time as possible at home with his daughter. There’s Mr. Jae-sung, a cobbler who “can tell so much about a person just from looking at their shoes.” There’s Na-yoon, a student taking classes after school who is “so tired she’s barely awake.” In alternating spreads that briefly shift among the different riders’ points of view, we follow these characters into their lives beyond the subway’s cars.

Thanks to the subway train’s musings, readers gain poignant glimpses into the joys, sorrows and hopes of these passengers. The train’s voice is tender and compassionate, and the sound of its movement, “ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum,” is a refrain that anchors the book. 

Early spreads feature smudgy faces in shadow, but the faces of the riders whom the subway introduces are distinct and detailed. Kim’s eloquent, fine-lined watercolor illustrations capture the commuters’ humanity and the beauty in what might otherwise be dismissed as mundane. In a striking closing spread, “a gentle afternoon light . . . washes over everything,” and the image’s composition draws our attention not to the subway riders in the upper left-hand corner of the spread but to the light hitting the floor of the car—the extraordinary amid the ordinary. 

A poetic tribute to Seoul and its people, I Am the Subway makes for an unforgettable journey. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

Kim Hyo-eun’s splendid picture book, originally published in South Korea in 2016 and translated into English by Deborah Smith, is told from the perspective of a subway train in Seoul.

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Newbery Medalist Jerry Spinelli has created another middle grade masterpiece with Dead Wednesday, a riveting tale about the awkward transition between middle school and high school and finding the confidence to be yourself along the way. It’s a serious story of life, death and mortality that speaks to tweens in an authentic and frequently funny voice.

As he did in his Newbery Honor novel, Wringer, which depicted a town’s ritualistic requirement that 10-year-old boys wring the necks of wounded pigeons shot during an annual festival, Spinelli places another seemingly ghastly tradition at the center of Dead Wednesday. In this case, 14-year-old Robbie Tarnauer, known as Worm, is thrilled to finally be participating in “Dead Wednesday,” a day in which eighth graders wear black T-shirts and take on the identities of the town’s teenagers who have recently died. Adults spend the day ignoring them, treating them as though they’re dead and therefore invisible. 

It’s intended, of course, to be a solemn affair that warns rising high school students against dangerous, reckless behavior and its deadly consequences. For the kids, however, Dead Wednesday is a day of strange freedom and pranks. 

Worm receives the identity of 17-year-old Becca Finch, who suddenly, mysteriously appears in her pajamas on his desk at school. She can interact with him but is invisible to others. “Worm,” she informs him, “we have to work together on this. I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do.” Worm and Becca get to know each other and eventually enjoy each other’s company. In a particularly moving passage, Becca explains the events leading up to her death and addresses the aftermath.

Spinelli takes an odd situation and makes it odder, but in his talented hands, the unbelievable becomes not only believable but also unputdownable. Worm is a shy, thoughtful and self-conscious protagonist whose quips will immediately draw readers in. He usually wears a watch, “a kind of compass that positions him in time and space,” but as he interacts with Becca, it becomes clear that all bets are off. Dead Wednesday is about how we choose to spend what time we have and how quickly that time can be lost. “You taught me more in one afternoon than I learned in my whole life,” Worm tells Becca. These are unforgettable characters, and Dead Wednesday is another award-worthy book from an author cementing his legacy. 

Newbery Medalist Jerry Spinelli has created another middle grade masterpiece with Dead Wednesday, a riveting tale about the awkward transition between middle school and high school and finding the confidence to be yourself along the way.

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