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“If you want to live, you got to run, boy, run,” 12-year-old Sam Castine tells himself. He’s trapped deep in the Maine wilderness after trying to retrieve his forgotten cell phone during a frenzied, smoke-filled evacuation of his summer camp. With wildfires raging, Sam gets left behind in the confusion. He quickly realizes, “Use your brain or die, that’s the rule.”

Thankfully, this lively, engaging narrator has plenty of smarts, allowing him to carefully but quickly try to find his way to safety, especially with the help of an abandoned old Jeep that takes on a life of its own as it zips along a maze of narrow, rutty logging roads.

Action lovers will relish every word of Wildfire, the latest by Newbery Honor winner Rodman Philbrick, whose previous books include Freak the Mighty and Zane and the Hurricane. This new novel chronicles six nonstop days of danger that include not only fire and smoke but also encounters with a bear, moose, lightning and a pair of marauding arsonists on motorbikes.

Early in his misadventure, Sam finds a friend in 14-year-old Delphy Pappas, a camper left behind at a nearby girls’ camp. Their believable, deepening friendship is the icing on the cake of this page turner. Delphy is a likable, powerful young woman coming into her own, but she’s self-conscious of her size and height, especially at “Camp Fatness,” as she calls it.

Sam was sent to summer camp instead of foster care by a savvy, caring social worker while his loving but opioid-addicted mother tries to reclaim her life in rehab (a refreshing change of pace from many such characterizations). Meanwhile, Sam recalls the many camping and survival skills learned from his late father, killed in a tanker truck explosion in Afghanistan. He also contemplates the wise words of his social worker, reminding himself, “Mrs. Labrie says that’s what life is all about, learning how to deal with stuff you can't control.”

With Wildfire―reminiscent of Hatchet and the real-life saga Lost on a Mountain in Maine―Philbrick transforms a raging inferno into an impressively plotted escape story full of heart and soul.

“If you want to live, you got to run, boy, run,” 12-year-old Sam Castine tells himself. He’s trapped deep in the Maine wilderness after trying to retrieve his forgotten cell phone during a frenzied, smoke-filled evacuation of his summer camp. With wildfires raging, Sam gets…

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Rooted in Filipino folklore, Lalani of the Distant Sea is the story of Lalani Sarita and her fantastical journey to save her mother and all the villagers who live on the island of Sanlagita.

Sanlagita exists at the foot of the wrathful Mount Kahana. The island’s long drought has caused all medicinal plants to stop growing, and rations are scarce. As a deep lover of stories, Lalani knows the island’s superstitions and legends—especially that of Ziva, a courageous young maiden who stowed away on a ship bound for Mount Isa, “where all of life’s good fortunes seem to be.” Years ago, Lalani’s father sailed away toward Isa as well, but like all Sanlagitan sailors, he never returned.

When her mother pricks her finger and falls ill, Lalani, remembering the ancient legends, knows that the juice from a flower on Mount Isa can save her mother and perhaps rescue the entire island. And so Lalani steals a boat and begins her quest.

Lalani’s atmospheric journey is filled with mythical creatures, deadly plants, island spirits and unexpected friends. The way is unclear, death is always near, and Mount Kahana casts a dark shadow. Lalani is weary and confused, bloody and battered, starving and dehydrated, but in these moments, readers see her bravery, humility and deep empathy. 

Newbery Medal winner Erin Entrada Kelly’s latest begins as a story of darkness, but beyond the shadow of Mount Kahana is light overflowing. Lalani reminds us that strength and skill may not be able to defeat darkness and restore light—but kindness, integrity and steadfast love can.

In the words of another Newbery winner, Madeline L’Engle, “Stories make us more alive, more human, more courageous, more loving,” and this one does just that.

Rooted in Filipino folklore, Lalani of the Distant Sea is the story of Lalani Sarita and her fantastical journey to save her mother and all the villagers who live on the island of Sanlagita.

Sanlagita exists at the foot of the wrathful Mount Kahana. The island’s…

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Eleven-year-old Keda (short for Makeda), a songwriter who loves to sing and listen to jazz and the blues, draws readers right in to her heart-rending coming-of-age story. 

An African American girl adopted by white parents, Keda finds it hard to feel she belongs anywhere, except with her #ashyforlife best friend, Lena, who is also a black adoptee with white parents. For Keda, leaving Lena behind is the hardest part of relocating from Baltimore to Albuquerque with her family—that is, until her mother, who at first just seems passionate and moody, descends into depression, followed by a manic episode, and reaches her lowest point before getting help. She is ultimately diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Meanwhile, Keda struggles socially with racism from mean girls in her new town, as well as with the feeling that her 14-year-old sister, Eve, has outgrown her. The Georgia Belles, a group of women who appear to Keda in dreamlike visions, help resolve her feelings of being afloat and helpless, even as they sometimes taunt her with her fears or warn her of danger to come. Keda faces her struggles with a bold self-assurance that is refreshing to read, even as her story breaks readers’ hearts only to mend them again. 

The short chapters in For Black Girls Like Me are written in distinctive, lyrical prose, with poems interspersed throughout. Keda’s world is richly drawn and seamlessly presented in a strong, authentic voice. Her difficult experiences and emotions are deeply affecting, with just enough humor to carry readers through. This magnificent middle grade debut from Mariama J. Lockington is an absolute gift of a book. 

Eleven-year-old Keda (short for Makeda), a songwriter who loves to sing and listen to jazz and the blues, draws readers right in to her heart-rending coming-of-age story. 

Canadian author Aimee Reid and the incomparable illustrator Matt Phelan team up for an accessible introduction to the life of Fred Rogers for young readers. Although it is fictionalized, the book incorporates a factual biography of Rogers in the back, as well as notes from the author and illustrator and a select bibliography.

The story begins with an aspect of Fred Rogers’ life that many adult readers may not know: He was a sickly child who suffered from allergies and spent a lot of time inside and alone. In his own neighborhood, Rogers was bullied. Thanks to helpers, including his grandfather, Rogers gained confidence and a strong sense of values that became the underpinning of his groundbreaking television series, “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” As the book tells us, “His grandpa told Fred that he liked him just the way he was. He said Fred was special and that, just by being himself, Fred made the day special, too.”

The book includes scenes of Rogers reaching out to other helpers in the community. Although one scene shows Rogers surrounded by a gathering of diverse children, this aspect of the book might have been strengthened by mentioning, for instance, African American police officer Officer Clemmons, who appeared on “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.”

Overall, however, Reid’s simple text and Phelan’s soft pencil and watercolor illustrations come together to capture the gentle force of nature that was Mister Rogers himself.

Canadian author Aimee Reid and the incomparable illustrator Matt Phelan team up for an accessible introduction to the life of Fred Rogers for young readers.
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Channeling the abundant curiosity of a toddler, a rabbit consistently asks questions of his friend, a large and patient bear. The rabbit is of a more philosophical bent, asking “why?” of everything the bear does in this story, told entirely in dialogue.

The illustrations do the heavy lifting in this sparsely worded story, telling us what we need to know about the close bond between the two. Why, the rabbit wonders, must they look through a telescope to see the stars at night? Because they are so far away, the bear responds. The bear is also able to explain why she likes honey, why too much of it makes her ill, why birds fly south for the winter and more.

But when the rabbit sees a fallen bird, the bear is stumped, acknowledging the mysteries and frustrations of loss: “I don’t know why. Sometimes I just don’t know why!” When the bear sadly saunters off, the rabbit begs her to stay, and now it’s the bear’s turn to ask why. The rabbit’s response brings this gentle and graceful story full circle, cementing their friendship and serving as a subtle reminder that grief can be endured with a friend nearby.

This reassuring tale, rendered via watercolors on a lush, green palette, isn’t afraid to ask the hard questions (or in this case, one big question), suggesting that love can persist in the face of loss. Even young readers who have yet to experience loss will find resonance in this quiet story in which answers may not come easy—but steadfastness does.

 

Julie Danielson conducts interviews and features of authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

This reassuring tale, rendered via watercolors on a lush, green palette, isn’t afraid to ask the hard questions (or in this case, one big question), suggesting that love can persist in the face of loss.

Piper has suddenly become homeless. After a long, sleepless night traveling by bus, the fifth grader finds herself spending hours in lines waiting for everything she used to take for granted: food, clothing, even a shower.

In a spot-on and unsentimental portrayal of homelessness, author Bobbie Pyron spins an engaging, moving tale about Piper’s family and an older homeless woman who suffers from bipolar disorder. Baby, the woman’s tiny but tenacious dog, brings them all together. Pyron’s understated style switches back and forth between Piper’s prose and the poetry of Baby’s “dog view” sensations.

When Piper joins the Firefly Troop at Hope House, she finds a lifeline. The Firefly Girls motto, “Let Your Light Shine,” propels Piper to persevere and to never give up hope. Whether it’s by being a good big sister, by showing respect to others whose lives are even more difficult than hers or by telling Baby’s story in front of an auditorium full of strangers to raise money, Piper’s actions will inspire young readers. 

As Piper attempts to reunite the homeless woman with the dog she holds dear, her own story is fraught with the same emotions faced by any young person thrust into a situation where little to nothing is within his or her control.

Fans of animal adventure stories will be especially glad they found Stay.

In a spot-on and unsentimental portrayal of homelessness, author Bobbie Pyron spins an engaging and moving tale about Piper’s family and an older homeless woman who suffers from bipolar disorder.

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“Like a car seat for your brain” is how Blair Thornburgh describes skulls in her informational picture book of the same name. Written in a second person voice (“You probably don’t think much about skulls”), Skulls! introduces a young girl who starts to see those around her in eye-opening ways as an unknown narrator describes the purpose and functions of skulls in the human body.

In the book’s second full spread, the girl sees a crowd of people around her, and at the page turn she sees them just as they were but with their skulls exposed. Illustrator Scott Campbell’s funny and affectionate watercolor illustrations (the Grim Reaper with a juice box, a mummy with a guitar and a pirate’s bearded skull, chomping on a hot dog) keep matters from getting too grisly. Skulls are “not trying to be scary,” after all. “They can’t help the way they look.”

Thornburgh draws in the reader with the immediate and direct “you” by pointing out the many ways in which the reader benefits from having a skull and emphasizing the importance of taking care of it. Appended are “Cool Skull Facts!” that close with an enthusiastic command to declare love for one’s skull. (“Say it again: I love my skull!”) The purple-tone opening endpapers show the heads of various humans, and the closing ones show the same humans—but with skulls exposed.

Skulls may often be associated with death and mortality, but this life-affirming book is breezy and ebullient. You can say it again: Skulls were never more fun.

 

Julie Danielson conducts interviews and features of authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children's literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

Skulls! introduces a young girl who starts to see those around her in eye-opening ways as an unknown narrator describes the purpose and functions of skulls in the human body.

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Alexa, age 9 ¾, and her group of friends are changed when a boy named Ahmet takes the seat at the back of the class. In this debut novel and British import, the classmates learn that this quiet boy is a refugee from Syria. Brendan the Bully and his gang try to terrorize Ahmet, other students spread rumors about him, and parents instill intolerance in their children by spewing disparaging remarks about him. Nevertheless, Alexa sets out not only to befriend this newcomer but also to understand what it means to be a refugee.

She starts with a list of questions, from why he had to leave his home country to what his favorite fruit is. But as Alexa learns more about Ahmet, including his arduous trek across countries and his separation from his family, she forms even more questions. And when Alexa discovers that England’s borders will soon close and Ahmet may never get to see his parents again, she gathers her friends to carry out “The Greatest Idea in the World,” a daring plan that involves contacting the queen for assistance.

Onjali Q. Raúf’s heartwarming story highlights the plight of young refugees around the world. To help children comprehend and empathize with Ahmet’s plight, the book offers additional information about refugees in the United States, refugee resettlement agencies and how refugees differ from migrants. Readers of all ages will appreciate the guided questions and discussion prompts to think about one’s own identity and place.

Alexa sets out to befriend a newcomer and to understand what it means to be a refugee.
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Ultrabot is a massive, several-stories-tall robot who lives on Primrose Lane with its professor. An aerial view of the street in the book’s opening illustration proves that their warehouse of a home is an anomaly in the suburban neighborhood in which it sits, but author-illustrator Josh Schneider keeps the humor understated. For one, when Ultrabot learns from the professor that Becky Tingle from next door is coming over for a playdate, no one bats an eye—except for Ultrabot. “NEGATIVE,” it says.

Just like a human child, the robot is nervous that it may not be compatible with a new playmate. But things go swimmingly, and a friendship is forged. The book’s charms lie in its dry humor (and the use of a font called Joystick, used sparingly to render Ultrabot’s words), as well as the juxtaposition of words and images. “Becky showed Ultrabot how to draw a cat,” we read. While she does so on a human-size canvas, we see in a small insert on the recto that Ultrabot is capable of drawing a cat on nothing less than the surface of the moon, thanks to a powerful laser at his command. When Ultrabot decides it is “safe to share its toys with Becky,” we see that, as it jets through the upper atmosphere, Becky is nearby in a small plane, piloting it herself with a look of elation.

Ultrabot may be metal and larger than life, but its apprehension over making friends—and its happiness in having succeeded at doing so—is as human as ever.

 

Julie Danielson conducts interviews and features of authors and illustrators at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, a children’s literature blog primarily focused on illustration and picture books.

Ultrabot may be metal and larger than life, but its apprehension over making friends—and its happiness in having succeeded at doing so—is as human as ever.

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Twelve-year-old Ali Kensington has a slight problem telling the truth. She tells her classmates about her experience in the wild, eating bugs and surviving animal attacks. This is plausible because her dad, George Kensington, is Survivor Guy, star of a hit nature show. But unlike her older brother, Jake, Ali’s never actually been on set, let alone participated in the adventure. Instead, she reads as many nature and survival guides as she can, preparing for the day she’ll really need those skills.

Ali also has trouble telling the truth about more mundane things, like what’s happening in her parents’ marriage, which frustrates her best friend, Harper. But a fight over Ali’s little white lies takes a back seat when Ali’s dad, who’s supposed to watch her for the week, instead takes Ali and her brother into the Great Dismal Swamp to tape a family episode of “Survivor Guy.” Ali is terrified—and feels unready to truly test her survival knowledge—until she finds out the truth about Survivor Guy: There are lots of cameras, scripted scenes, stunt doubles, animal handlers, cushy trailers and even a professional chef. But when a wildfire burns through the swamp and Ali is left behind by a rescue helicopter, she has a chance to prove to herself and her family that she has the skills and confidence to be a survivor.

This fun and relatable story remixes the classic wilderness survival plot with reality TV and features a resourceful, complex female protagonist. A great middle grade summer read with STEM themes and solid character development, Survivor Girl will entertain and inspire.

A great middle grade summer read with STEM themes and solid character development, Survivor Girl will entertain and inspire.
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M.G. Hennessey knows that some children lead tough lives. Her debut, The Other Boy, tackled what it’s like to be transgender, and her sophomore novel, The Echo Park Castaways, takes readers into the foster care system. Alternating perspectives follow Nevaeh, a black eighth-grader who dreams of becoming a doctor; Vic, a Salvadoran-American fifth-grader whose father was deported and who disassociates by assuming a spy persona; and Mara, a tiny Latinx third-grade girl with limited English skills. Together they live with widowed, overworked Mrs. K in her Echo Park, California, home. In this insightful story, their set routines are disrupted by the arrival of Quentin, who has Asperger’s.

When Quentin becomes adamant about seeing his sick mother, Vic takes on the challenge of Quentin’s reunion. When quiet Mara sneaks along, Nevaeh, the caregiver of the group, must find them and bring them back before their foster mother decides to kick them all out. It begins as a doomed trek filled with buses and unknown neighborhoods, but a string of unexpected joys, truths and one life-altering Ferris wheel ride weave through the day.

Hennessey tempers the harsh realities of these “castaways” with hope and love. While the four children know they’ll probably always be in the foster care system, they’re also held together by an unbreakable bond of support and family.

M.G. Hennessey knows that some children lead tough lives. Her debut, The Other Boy, tackled what it’s like to be transgender, and her sophomore novel, The Echo Park Castaways, takes readers into the foster care system. Alternating perspectives follow Nevaeh, a black eighth-grader who dreams of becoming a doctor; Vic, a Salvadoran-American fifth-grader whose father was deported and who disassociates by assuming a spy persona; and Mara, a tiny Latinx third-grade girl with limited English skills. Together they live with widowed, overworked Mrs. K in her Echo Park, California, home. In this insightful story, their set routines are disrupted by the arrival of Quentin, who has Asperger’s.

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Life looks bleak for 10-year-old Nitty Luce, who, after escaping Grimsgate Orphanage, steals a pouch full of strange, shimmering seeds. Things take an even stranger turn when she encounters a circus elephant about to be hanged for supposedly killing her trainer. In a moment of mutual desperation, Nitty befriends the elephant, named Magnolious, and the pair makes a bold escape.

That’s the action-packed opening of Suzanne Nelson’s tender-hearted Dust Bowl fantasy, A Tale Magnolious. The runaways are taken in by a brusque, lonely farmer named Windle Homes in the dying town of Fortune’s Bluff. Nitty also befriends Twitch, a sickly boy determined to bring down dastardly Mayor Neezer Snollygost, who wants to flatten the town and build high-rises.

In an intriguing author’s note, Nelson explains that her fantastical novel was inspired by a photograph of a circus elephant named Mary who was publicly executed in 1916 in Erwin, Tennessee, after killing her trainer. Once Nelson saw the horrific image, she dreamed of a girl running through a town square, carrying a mysterious stolen object, finding shelter between an elephant’s front legs. The tale Nelson went on to write has an old-fashioned, Dickensian feel and plenty of vocabulary flair, with names like Miz Turngiddy and words like catawampus. It’s also an allegory about empowerment when adults are intimidated by an evil politician. In Fortune’s Bluff, it’s kids to the rescue, with the help of one mighty elephant.

This is a walloping romp that delivers an important message: “Each and every one of us has a say when it comes to what is right.”

Life looks bleak for 10-year-old Nitty Luce, who, after escaping Grimsgate Orphanage, steals a pouch full of strange, shimmering seeds. Things take an even stranger turn when she encounters a circus elephant about to be hanged for supposedly killing her trainer. In a moment of mutual desperation, Nitty befriends the elephant, named Magnolious, and the pair makes a bold escape.

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In an ode to one of literature’s luminaries, Mac Barnett plays off the title of Margaret Wise Brown’s The Important Book by asking readers: “What is important about Margaret Wise Brown?” 

Subverting the structure of traditional picture book biographies, Barnett writes in a distinctive, chummy and inviting second–person voice that directly addresses readers of The Important Thing About Margaret Wise Brown, often providing metatextual commentary: “Margaret Wise Brown lived for 42 years. This book is 42 pages long.” Barnett focuses on small, quirky details of Brown’s personality (she skinned a rabbit and wore its pelt, for instance), prompting readers to define for themselves what “important” even means when recounting a life. “The truth is never made of straight lines,” Barnett notes. 

Most importantly, he captures the respect Brown had for child readers, as well as the essence of her legacy, while simultaneously communicating his own manifesto on what he believes children’s books can and should be (“every good book is at least a little bit strange”). Casting the influential librarian Anne Carroll Moore as the book’s antagonist—she believed Brown’s books were “truck”—the book pivots at many turns. “This is a story about a rabbit,” we read on page eight, though the narrative thread always returns to Brown.

Sarah Jacoby’s velvety-soft illustrations feature not only Brown but also a group of bunnies reading in a library (a nod to Brown’s Goodnight Moon). Jacoby’s details delight; look closely at the epigraph spread to see faint outlines of watercolor bunnies. 

Could the absence of any backmatter be purposeful? After all, as Barnett shows through the details he selected from Brown’s life, “You can’t fit somebody’s life into 42 pages.” It’s a refreshing and important truth.

In an ode to one of literature’s luminaries, Mac Barnett plays off the title of Margaret Wise Brown’s The Important Book by asking readers: “What is important about Margaret Wise Brown?” 

Subverting the structure of traditional picture book biographies, Barnett writes in a distinctive, chummy and inviting second--person voice that directly addresses readers of The Important Thing About Margaret Wise Brown, often providing metatextual commentary: “Margaret Wise Brown lived for 42 years. This book is 42 pages long.” Barnett focuses on small, quirky details of Brown’s personality (she skinned a rabbit and wore its pelt, for instance), prompting readers to define for themselves what “important” even means when recounting a life. “The truth is never made of straight lines,” Barnett notes. 

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