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.

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. 

On the very first page of Lesa Cline-Ransome’s Being Clem, a knock at the door brings terrible news: Clem’s father has been killed in the 1944 shipyard munitions accident that will become known as the Port Chicago disaster. Clem’s mother, unable to find anyone willing to hire a Black secretary, is soon behind on the rent, and his older sisters, busy with friends and boys, have little time for their little brother’s grief. 

When Clem skips a grade to attend middle school, he begins hanging out with Lymon, a new boy in town. But when Lymon begins to bully another new boy, Langston, who shares Clem's affinity for the local public library, Clem must make a difficult choice. Should he go along with Lymon, despite his misgivings, or stand up for the new boy—but risk losing a friend in the process?

As if all this weren’t enough for one boy to deal with, Clem's swimming lessons aren’t going smoothly either. How can Clem grow up to be a Navy man like his father when he’s afraid of the pool? Clem may know all the answers in school, but there's still so much he doesn't understand.

Although Being Clem can be read independently, fans of Cline-Ransome’s previous books Finding Langston (which received a Coretta Scott King Honor) and Leaving Lymon will appreciate the daring narrative choice to place Clem in friendships with her two previous protagonists—who are, in turn, one another's enemies. 

Cline-Ransome also fills Being Clem with rich details from 1940s Chicago, including the real-life, award-winning DuSable High School swim team, whose members were Black and against whom some white teams refused to compete. Cline-Ransome explores societal issues of race, class and gender alongside Clem's more internal struggles to express difficult emotions like fear and sadness. Being Clem gains poignancy from Clem’s personal journey as he mourns the father for whom he is named and whose legacy he hopes he will one day honor. 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Being Clem author Lesa Cline-Ransome reveals the real-life inspiration behind Clem and his friends.

Eleven-year-old Loah Londonderry lives in a ramshackle house with an “alarmingly crooked turret.” Her classmates regularly dare each other to peek into her house’s windows, and Loah usually responds with a timid wave.

Loah’s mother, an ornithologist, is doing fieldwork in the Arctic, so Loah is being looked after by the Rinkers, a brother and sister who are “old, scrawny, and white as napkins.” Miss Rinker is strict, but her brother, Theo, the purveyor of bedtime gummy bears, is Loah’s favorite.

Loah’s mother has been gone for 67 days (and counting) when their turret-topped home comes to the unwelcome attention of Mr. Wayne J. Kipper, the local housing inspector. Then an accident lands Theo in the hospital just as Loah learns of her mother’s plan to go off the grid and risk a dangerous solo pursuit of the rare bird that is Loah’s namesake. When all seems truly lost, Loah is befriended by a rangy, outspoken homeschooler named Ellis.

The Most Perfect Thing in the Universe is an appealing coming-of-age story with broad emotional range. Author Tricia Springstubb writes with a deft hand, and her moving and complex third-person narration contains frequent humorous asides to the reader.

The novel is set against a lush backdrop of the natural world, full of the calls and movements of the birds that Loah’s mother has devoted her life to studying. Readers will learn about arctic terns, hairy woodpeckers and chickadees, and there’s even a supporting turn at a critical moment by the family of vultures who live in the turret. The Most Perfect Thing in the Universe is a lovely reminder of the importance of paying attention to nature and protecting the creatures that share our world.

Una and Julien live very different lives. Una is the wealthy magister’s daughter, while Julien is the son of a poor botanical forager. But these two children have something in common: They each possess the rare supernatural gift of a heightened sense, Una for scent and Julien for sound. Their gifts shape how they interact with the world around them and add a layer of wonder to ordinary, everyday life. But when Julien’s father is imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit and Una becomes embroiled in Julien’s fight to free him, both children begin to realize that their gifts may be useful in ways they never could have imagined. In fact, they might even hold the power to save lives.   

The Other Side of Luck, Ginger Johnson’s second middle grade novel, is a captivating feast for the senses. Johnson describes sights, smells and sounds in exquisite detail. Julien hears “the singing of sprouts and seedlings stretching and swelling, the hymn of flowers unfurling, the fusion of trees and grasses as they harmonized in their upward reach,” and Una perceives the scent of her father’s unexpected laughter as “spicy, aromatic and somewhat peppery.” 

Despite these sensory delights, Johnson’s story deals with weighty themes of grief, loneliness and identity while exploring complex family dynamics. When Una was 7, her mother died. Afterward, her distant father practically vanished from her life, first because of his grief and then because he remarries a woman who seems to have no interest in a maternal relationship with Una. Una now longs to connect with her mother’s family, whom she has never known. Julien, on the other hand, is close with his loving father, but he misses the mother who died giving birth to him and struggles to keep a brave face in light of his father’s worsening illness. Yet through loss and sadness, neither Una nor Julien loses sight of the beauty in their life, and their gifts become a lifeline to hope. 

Immersive and sensitive, The Other Side of Luck will be enjoyed by middle grade fantasy readers in search of a story full of magic and heart.

Nina Hamza sets an incredibly high bar by placing three classics of children’s literature at the heart of her debut middle grade novel, Ahmed Aziz’s Epic Year. Fortunately for readers, she more than delivers, soaring over the bar with ease. 

Twelve-year-old Ahmed Aziz must move with his family to his father's Minnesota hometown so that his father can receive experimental treatment for a rare genetic liver condition. Ahmed feels displaced and lost, and his Muslim faith and brown skin don’t ease the transition. In Minnesota, he says, “I hated having to explain myself with an adjective. I didn’t feel like an Indian American, and it didn’t matter that I had never been to India, because the color of my skin meant I needed to explain.”

Ahmed’s new English teacher, Mrs. Gaarder, was the best friend of Ahmed’s uncle, who died at age 12 of the same liver condition that now threatens Ahmed’s father’s life. Her class provides the book’s narrative focus: a yearlong group competition in which students will study Louis Sachar’s Holes, Katherine Paterson’s Bridge to Terabithia and E.L. Konigsburg’s From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. At the end of the year, students will challenge her in “Are You Smarter Than Mrs. Gaarder?”—a competition no student has ever won. Ahmed, who’s never enjoyed school and doesn’t like to read, is less than enthused. 

Ahmed Aziz’s Epic Year features not just a riveting and complex plot but also a large cast of fully realized characters anchored by the likable Ahmed, who has a fresh, funny and authentic tween voice. Hamza delves deeply into Ahmed’s fears of loss and grief as he learns more about his uncle, and she portrays a prolonged and dire medical crisis with notable sensitivity. 

The author’s depiction of realistic school scenes, friendships and rivalries is also excellent. At school, Ahmed gets to know a broad group of students, most notably a bully named Jack, who unfortunately lives next door. Their superbly developed relationship provides many opportunities for Ahmed to compare his own experiences to those featured in the books he is studying.

Ahmed Aziz’s Epic Year marks Hamza as a writer to watch and provides engaging opportunities for readers to discover common ground with Ahmed and with the characters he meets during his epic year. Hamza hints at a sequel when Mrs. Gaarder reveals that she’ll lead a similar exercise in her class next year with a study of three of Shakespeare’s plays. We can only hope this is the case.