Sign Up

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

All Middle Grade Coverage

Theater kids of all ages will adore Take It From the Top, Claire Swinarski’s effervescently heartfelt and cathartic tribute to the joys and dramas that come with life in the limelight. 

Each year, Eowyn and best friend Jules tread the boards at Lamplighter Lake Summer Camp for the Arts in the Wisconsin Northwoods. They instantly bonded in their first year, but now as they enter their sixth—at 13 years old—a once rock-solid friendship bolstered by elaborate plans for a shared future (they’ll be famous together!) has become a tenuous truce at best.

Eowyn’s not sure why Jules is icing her out, so she buries her feelings in intense audition prep for the big end-of-summer production, in which she’s determined to get a lead role. Jules is prepping too . . . but what if they both score big parts? Can a friendship that’s painfully broken be healed in time for a harmonious opening night?

As in her middle grade debut, epistolary mystery What Happened to Rachel Riley?—a BookPage Best Middle Grade Book of 2023 and 2024 Edgar Award nominee—Swinarski has created a story rife with realism, empathy and well-drawn characters navigating their figuring-themselves-out years. She also plays with structure to excellent effect, alternating Eowyn’s perspective in the present with Jules’ in the years leading up to this pivotal sixth summer. 

It’s a genuine treat to follow along as the talented, hardworking tweens in Take It From the Top strive to understand others’ perspectives and translate their onstage performances into how they address real life. As Eowyn muses, “Up there on the stage . . . You could be someone you weren’t. Or maybe you could be someone you really were.” Bravo!

It’s a genuine treat to follow along as the talented, hardworking tweens in Take It From the Top strive to understand others’ perspectives and translate their onstage performances into how they address real life.
Review by

Literary powerhouses Renée Watson and Ekua Holmes combine forces to create Black Girl You Are Atlas, a phenomenal poetry collection celebrating sisterhood, womanhood, Black culture and the power of family and friendship. This book revels in the promise of adolescence while acknowledging its accompanying landmines of fear, self-doubt and uncertainty. 

Renowned poet, novelist and Newbery Honoree (Piecing Me Together) Watson offers high-impact, widely accessible poems that address topics like her childhood, the teenage journey from innocence to awareness, and current events (through poems for Michelle Obama and Breonna Taylor). Verses in poems such as “How to Survive Your Teen Years” and “Sixteen Reasons to Smile” are filled with comfort and joy. No matter the subject, Watson’s words resonate on a personal level, as in these lines from “Turning Seven”: “I will always remember this birthday as the one where I met / my dad and lost my uncle and learned that men are good at / disappointing and disappearing.” Black Girl You Are Atlas explores the world in depth: In contrast to “Turning Seven,” an ode to her older brother (“King”) concludes, “And when there’s all this talk about what Black men are not, / I think about all he is.”

Caldecott Honor recipient Holmes’ torn paper collage and mixed-media art is the perfect accompaniment, featuring joyous and brightly colored figures among bits of newsprint and other ephemera. Shimmering with radiance at first glance, they reveal even more layers of meaning upon closer examination.

Black Girl You Are Atlas compels young readers to honor their past while creating their own paths forward. As “Lessons on Being a Sky Walker” urges: “When they tell you / the sky is the limit, vow to go past that.”

In Black Girl You Are Atlas, renowned poet, novelist and Newbery Honoree Renee Watson offers high-impact, widely accessible poems that address universal topics, accompanied by joyous artwork from Caldecott winner Ekua Holmes
Interview by

I first interviewed you back in 1996, with the publication of Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse. I began by saying—a statement that certainly still holds true—“Kevin Henkes’ picture books and novels are a celebration of the ordinary, written and illustrated with extraordinary aplomb.” At that time, you had a 14-month-old son. How has life changed in those decades, and how has it stayed the same, especially in terms of your writing and illustrating?
My 14-month-old son is now 29 and on his own. Life is no longer filled with all the things that go along with kids at home. I do remember periods when it seemed difficult to find long stretches of time to really concentrate on book work. But one finds a way to do it. Now, finding time is not an issue, and the actual work is very much the same. When our kids were little, I always wanted to have a book to be working on and thinking about. It was an anchor in my life. That feeling, that need to be writing, has not changed.

Still Sal’s dedication reads: “For Peg, Mel, Abby, and Margaret, with much love and thanks for answering oh-so-many questions about teachers and teaching.” Who are Peg, Mel, Abby and Margaret, and what did you ask them?
They are my sister, my sister-in-law, our kids’ former babysitter and a dear friend—all elementary school teachers. Over the years I’ve asked them so many questions about curriculum, class size and classroom layout. I’ve asked them how they might deal with certain behaviors. I’ve gotten suggestions for names from them, too. I’m reminded when I’ve talked to them how open, generous, thoughtful and patient they are—not a surprise, but traits to be admired. Over the years, I’ve read to their classes and helped decorate some of their classrooms. I’ve sketched in some of their classrooms too (after hours when no students were around). Some rug and floor patterns and wall decorations have shown up in several of my illustrations.

What has been your proudest publishing moment over the years, more than 50 books after starting your career? Has your confidence grown, and do you sometimes face struggles as you create?
I can’t say I have a proudest publishing moment, although I am amazed when I look back and think that I went alone to New York City at age 19 to look for a publisher. I don’t think I’d have the confidence to do that now at age 63. And yes, I always face struggles as I create. I constantly ask myself questions such as: Why is this so difficult? Will I ever have another idea? Why can’t I get onto the page what I so clearly hear or see in my head?

“I am amazed when I look back and think that I went alone to New York City at age 19 to look for a publisher.”

Sal’s dad is a sculptor who works from his studio in the family garage. He’s a wonderfully involved and emotionally attuned parent who loves to make fun shaped pancakes and is nostalgic as he watches his three children change and grow. Did you channel any of your own emotions or experiences into Papa?
Like Papa, I was a stay-at-home artist parent along with my wife, Laura Dronzek. Like Papa, I often made fun shaped pancakes—although it’s harder to do than you’d think, and Papa is much better at it than I was. And now, since my kids are grown and on their own, I’m terribly out of practice. All of my characters probably have a bit of me in them, but Papa more than others.

Which children’s writers and illustrators have been the most influential for you?
Among the picture book creators who have meant the most to me are Crockett Johnson, Ruth Krauss, M.B. Goffstein, Maurice Sendak, James Marshall, Jean Charlot, Garth Williams and Margaret Wise Brown. As far as novels for children are concerned, my favorite writers include Paula Fox, Beverly Cleary, Eleanor Estes and Lynne Rae Perkins.

Sal has lots of very big feelings about what adults might consider to be small, fleeting problems. And yet, as readers, we care deeply about her struggles and feel her pain, as well as her triumphs and joy. How do you make her inner life so authentic, sometimes funny, and always riveting?
I’ve always been drawn to the ordinary, to small domestic stories. And I love exploring the inner lives of my characters. I’m more interested in the ripple than the wave. “Big, bad, things” don’t tend to be my focus. But what qualifies as a “big, bad thing” is subjective. It may be as simple or complicated as worrying that you got the wrong teacher or that you have to share your room or any of the hundreds of concerns and shortcomings that children everywhere work through every day. Precision and clarity bring the characters’ feelings to life.

“I’ve always been drawn to the ordinary, to small domestic stories.”

You write so seamlessly, and yet I imagine that getting the plot and timing exactly right was an intricate process. Could you discuss your writing and editing process?
I still write my manuscripts by hand in a spiral notebook. And I write slowly—sentence by sentence, word by word—in one draft without an outline. Writing this way requires a huge leap of faith. It is an act of trust—trust that somehow I will know my characters long enough and get to know them well enough that things will come together and fall into place beautifully.

E.L. Doctorow once observed that writing was “like driving alone at night: you could only see as far as your headlights. But you could go the whole way like that.”

Eventually, I will get to the point where there really is only one way for the story to go. It is inevitable. So far, anyway, I’ve always found my way home.

Art is such a big part of Sal’s and her father’s lives, and it’s one of the things that “draws” them together. Could you talk about the role that art plays in elementary students’ lives, as well as its role in your novels?
I’ve always thought of myself as an artist so that’s always been an important part of who I am. Because of that, I love writing about characters who are artists. Several of the characters in my novels—both adults and children—are artists.

I think art is important in the life of a child. I wish that there was more support for the arts in school, and that art in general was treated with greater respect in society.

As an illustrator, do you visualize your novels as you write? Would you ever consider trying a graphic novel?
Writing a novel is very different from writing and illustrating a picture book. But because I am an illustrator, I do visualize my novels as I work. I love creating and describing the spaces in which my characters live. It’s one of my favorite things about writing. I have thought about trying a graphic novel. Who knows? I do think of my picture book Egg as a graphic novel for preschoolers.

I love Sal and her friend Griff’s mini golf course creation with spoons and marbles. Have you made your own?
I have not made my own mini golf course, although my kids built many things like that. I remember very elaborate villages constructed from twigs, leaves, stones, shells, etc.

Also, Sal’s Papa makes a memorable macaroni and cheese recipe. Are you a mac and cheese chef?
Laura is the cook in our house and makes great macaroni and cheese. I’m very good at eating it!

Your Miller Family Stories, including Still Sal, remind me of Beverly Cleary’s books. Might Poppy Miller get her own book someday?
I never intended to write a second book about Billy Miller and his family. But I couldn’t get him out of my mind, and so it felt right to reenter that world. Now, after four books about the Miller family, I would have thought I’d be finished, but I’m getting little signals that there might be another. Maybe someday Poppy will get her own book.

Read our starred review of ‘Still Sal’ by Kevin Henkes.

 

Still Sal once again brings back the memorable characters of the Miller Family Stories.
Review by

Fans of Kathryn Ormsbee’s first graphic novel, Growing Pangs, will be delighted by heroine Katie’s return in Turning Twelve, an immersive, probing coming-of-age story that brings to mind the adolescent angst of Judy Blume’s Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. Ormsbee effectively mines her own childhood for material. 

Katie is growing up in a Baptist household in Kentucky in 2004. She’s a homeschooler who struggles with anxiety and OCD, as well as everything else that happens at that age, both mental and physical. 

“Being twelve isn’t turning out like I’d planned at all. I kinda wished I’d stayed eleven,” Katie admits. Her two best friends are moving away, leaving her lonely and isolated in her church youth group. At the children’s theater, she dreams of getting the role of Annie, but instead, is cast as an orphan side character. One of Katie’s biggest alarms is her growing attraction to Grace, a pretty, funny new friend she meets in the Annie production. “I didn’t know I could get crushes on girls,” Katie says. Her feelings grow even more complicated at church and in youth group, where she is told that anything besides love between a man and a woman “breaks God’s heart. It makes him cry.”  

Molly Brooks’ illustrations draw readers right into Katie’s dilemmas, and the structure and pacing of the story creates a meaningful interplay between the actual events and Katie’s roiling emotions. Katie’s red-headed, braces-filled expressions are relatable and help readers identify with her highs and lows, adding drama to each page, while Brooks’ use of red, purple and orange are striking, serving as a dynamic anchor for the graphic novel’s energy and flow. 

Katie’s struggle with her emerging sexual feelings and her relationship with religion are particularly well done. Several figures provide helpful, empowering examples, including Katie’s older sister, Ashley; her therapist, Dr. Clara; and a woman whom Katie babysits for, a successful lawyer who shows her that careers can be exciting and fulfilling. As she observes people at a more progressive church and hears news about progress in gay rights legislation, Katie starts to realize, “Maybe theatre isn’t the only place in the world where I can be myself.” 

Katie is just the sort of lively, inquisitive friend that a 12-year-old might yearn for. With its exhilarating combination of prose and illustrations, Turning Twelve will make readers clamor for more of Katie’s adventures. 

 

With its exhilarating combination of prose and illustrations, Turning Twelve will make readers clamor for more of Katie’s adventures.

As bestselling fantasy romance author Jodi Meadows’ smart, funny, perfectly paced Bye Forever, I Guess, opens, 13-year-old Ingrid is in the waning moments of her so-called friendship with Rachel, a master manipulator who loves to make Ingrid feel less-than.

Rachel has certainly succeeded—but much less often lately, perhaps because Ingrid is going online, where she enjoys a cyber-life that offers a welcome contrast to Rachel’s lunch table drama. Ingrid runs an anonymous Scrollr account, Bye Forever, I Guess, a fun compendium of wrong-number texts that boasts hundreds of thousands of followers. And she’s made a dear friend, Lorren, via hours of enthusiastically playing the MMORPG Ancient Tomes Online and sharing their devotion to a book series called the Essa Lightborne Chronicles. 

Now, eighth grade’s beginning in the small town of Deer Hill, Virginia, and Ingrid’s ready to bring some of her online mojo IRL. She has a supportive, communicative relationship with her grandma (who runs a popular YouTube channel, Yarn Star), but she’s still lonely at school and Lorren lives 500 long miles away. New kids Alyx and Oliver seem promising, but Rachel’s meanness and Ingrid’s awkwardness add up to lunchtime in the library for the latter, where she despairs of finding the in-person connections she craves. 

Then, a misdirected text from a boy who goes by Traveler pops up, and thanks to lots of ensuing witty text exchanges, a new online friendship—and a crush!—blossoms. But something nags at Ingrid: Traveler’s original text was directed to a “Rachel.” It couldn’t be Ingrid’s Rachel . . . could it? As she strives to find the answer to that nauseating question, Ingrid excitedly prepares for an Essa Lightborne event and ponders the vagaries of longing to be closer to someone she might not truly know: “I’d fastened my heart to a boy I could only half have, and I wanted more.”

Bye Forever, I Guess makes an excellent case for wanting more for ourselves in all areas of our lives, and for insisting on being seen, even if it’s awkward or scary at first. Meadows’ middle grade debut is a well-written, winning coming-of-age tale with loads of hilarity, empathy and heart.

Jodi Meadows’ middle grade debut, Bye Forever, I Guess, is a well-written, winning coming-of-age tale with loads of hilarity, empathy and heart.
Review by

Sal Miller has “been ready for first grade for years.” The big day has finally arrived in Still Sal, Kevin Henkes’ latest chapter book about the Miller Family. Just as Beverly Cleary explored the Quimby family with beloved books about sisters Beezus and Ramona, Henkes has written with extraordinary perception and depth about the lives of 6-year-old Sal (Oh, Sal) and her older brother, Billy (Billy Miller Makes a Wish and Newbery Honoree The Year of Billy Miller). Still Sal is yet another book that demonstrates the myriad reasons this multitalented author and illustrator received the Children’s Literature Legacy Award in 2020. 

“First grade isn’t as good as I thought it would be,” Sal soon discovers, especially when her best friend and neighbor, Griff, gets the lively, young, hip Ms. Flowers as a teacher, while Sal is assigned to dowdy Ms. McCormick, who wears shoes that “looked like loaves of underbaked bread,” has “streaky oatmeal-colored hair,” and seems to be all business and no fun. As Ms. Flowers becomes Sal’s new idol, she tries to do everything she can to be just like Ms. Flowers and be invited into her class. 

Like Ramona, Sal is a force of nature, a little girl with big feelings. For example, when passing her neighbor’s house—who has been dead for two years—Sal muses “that Mr. Tooley’s ghost was in the house. It wasn’t scary—just a presence she sensed, but couldn’t explain, and kept to herself.” Henkes’ exquisite prose plunges readers right into every corner of Sal’s mind and world as she deals with Billy, Griff and her sometimes annoying sister, Poppy, who is 2 and now sharing her room—yet another surprising assault on Sal’s psyche. She is gently guided by Mama, a high school English teacher, and Papa, a sculptor who works out of the garage. 

This chapter book is suitable for young listeners as a read-aloud or early readers as independent reading, while also being filled with emotionally complex characters and riveting, poignant moments—along with plenty of humor. Still Sal is not to be missed, and will leave readers eagerly awaiting the next Miller family installment. 

Filled with emotionally complex characters and riveting, poignant moments, along with plenty of humor, Still Sal is not to be missed.
List by


STARRED REVIEW
October 8, 2024

Six spooky reads

The ghoulish beings—some of whom are more adorable than creepy—that haunt these books will delight young readers any day of the year.

Share this Article:
Review by

Sid Sharp’s picture book Bog Myrtle starts as an intriguing fairy tale about two very different sisters: eternally optimistic Beatrice and forever grumpy Magnolia, who live “alone in a hideous, drafty old house” and “are so poor that they ate rats for breakfast and cockroaches for lunch.”

The action starts when Beatrice decides to make a sweater for Magnolia, who gripes about being cold. Since they have no money, Beatrice, who loves nature and crafts, heads to the forest to look for helpful treasures, and eventually encounters a monster named Bog Myrtle. Surprising things happen every step of the way, and Sharp’s sense of humor shines through—for instance, with a knitting store called “Knot in My Back Yarn.” 

Bog Myrtle offers Beatrice magic silk, which allows her to knit a truly splendid gift for Magnolia—who immediately sees potential for profit. As Magnolia launches a magic sweater business that becomes increasingly exploitative, Sharp transforms the tale into a sophisticated, humorous fable about sustainability, corporate greed and workers’ rights. Sharp manages to integrate these themes so seamlessly that they never feel strident; readers will simply find themselves cheering when the good guys beat the villain. 

Bold, contrasting colors imbue Sharp’s eye-catching illustrations with a modern, energetic vibe. Bog Myrtle offers a fun-filled yet serious look at sustainability and corporate accountability. Who would have even thought that possible? Sharp’s wizardry makes it happen. 

 

Who would have thought it possible to create an entertaining children's story about sustainability and corporate accountability? Sid Sharp's fun-filled fable, Bog Myrtle, is just that.
Review by

 

John the Skeleton is a wonderfully quirky story about a life-size model skeleton who “retires” from his schoolroom job as an anatomy model to live with an elderly couple on their farm in Estonia. He quickly becomes a part of the family, which includes two young grandchildren who frequently visit. There’s nothing scary or ghoulish here; instead, John’s presence allows Gramps and Grams to begin coming to terms with their eventual deaths. With 64 pages, plenty of illustrations and very short chapters, the book works equally well as a read-aloud for sophisticated younger readers or as a chapter book for solo readers.

The understated humor in Estonian writer Triinu Laan’s prose—as well as Adam Cullen’s translation—is ever present. Gramps makes wooden phalanges for John’s missing finger bones, and gives John his old musty coat “with two medals still pinned to it: one for donating blood and the other for being a good tractor driver.” The family includes John in all of their adventures. They help John make snow angels, and John even takes a bath with the grandkids.

Marja-Liisa Plats’ black-and-white illustrations, often accentuated by well-placed shades of fuchsia (a blushing face, a sled amid the snow), are full of whimsy. Her linework is perfect for this scruffy, lovable couple and their farmhouse world, including their outdoor summer kitchen. One of the book’s many delights is that John never reacts in any way; his entire “personality” is simply what this family imagines it to be. Nonetheless, he comforts them greatly, especially when Gramps and Grams begin to show signs of confusion. 

There are particularly touching scenes at the end, when the book confronts death. John the Skeleton is an endearing story that helps normalize death while highlighting the enduring power of love. 

John the Skeleton is an endearing book that helps normalize death while highlighting the enduring power of love.
Review by

With Vikki VanSickle’s compelling rhyming couplets and Jensine Eckwall’s lush, moody illustrations, Into the Goblin Market has all the makings of a modern classic, while giving a delightful nod to European fairy tales. The book is a tribute to Christina Rosetti’s 1859 poem, “Goblin Market,” about sisters Laura and Lizzie. VanSickle has used the original to create a similar tale about two young sisters who seem to live alone in a fairy tale-like world “on a farm, not far from here.” Millie is quiet and bookish, while Mina, with a head full of wild, curly hair, is daring and always ready for adventure. One night, Mina sneaks away to the Goblin Market, even though Millie has warned her, “The Goblin Market isn’t safe. / It’s a tricky, wicked place.”

When Millie awakes and sees that Mina has disappeared, she consults her library and takes several items that end up providing invaluable protection. Eckwall’s intricate, woodcut-inspired art vividly conveys the magic and danger that awaits. Occasional red accents in these black-and-white ink drawings highlight objects such as the hooded cape Millie wears as she sets off, looking just like Red Riding Hood—and, indeed, a shaggy black wolf is the first thing she encounters. 

Once she enters the market, “Everywhere that Millie looked / was like a nightmare from her books.” There are strange sights galore, including a multitude of goblins and an evil-looking witch, but there’s no sign of Mina, whom Millie knows is in trouble. The pages are definitely a feast for the imagination (although the very young may find them frightening). 

Both sisters use their wits admirably to escape the many dangers, and there’s a wonderful surprise at the end, just when all seems to be lost. Into the Goblin Market is a delicious treat for those yearning for a bit of frightful adventure. 

 

A tribute to the work of Victorian poet Christina Rosetti, Into the Goblin Market is a delicious treat for those yearning for a bit of frightful adventure.
Review by

Be careful what you wish for. That’s definitely true for Hannah, the seventh grader whose journal constitutes Remy Lai’s Read at Your Own Risk. Hannah and her friends search for a diversion while “some boring author” comes to their school assembly to “talk about his spooky books, which I bet aren’t even spooky.” Instead of attending, they decide to venture into the school attic and play a Ouija board-style game they call “Spirit of the Coin.” After their session, however, Hannah quickly discovers that she is haunted by an evil spirit, who continues to terrify her, and even writes in her journal in red ink. 

The journal format will definitely appeal to middle grade readers, making the story all the more intimate and seemingly real. Nonetheless, be forewarned: As the cover filled with skulls and dripping with blood would suggest, this book is not for the squeamish. While many readers will revel in its thrills and chills, others may be completely terrified, especially by the frequent blood splatters, horrific dental details and the hospitalization of the narrator’s young brother. 

Those whom those details don’t scare off may easily find themselves reading it more than once, looking for clues about the evil spirit. Read at Your Own Risk is a dynamic display of scary storytelling and compelling, haunting graphics that challenges readers to create their own journals. Lai leans into the mysterious as she wields her craft, noting, “Telling a story is like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. Only the storyteller has the box and knows what the whole picture looks like.”

Read at Your Own Risk is a dynamic display of scary storytelling and compelling, haunting graphics that challenges readers to create their own journals.
Review by

Nadia Ahmed’s The Ghost Who Was Afraid of Everything is not only a charming Halloween tale, but also an excellent year-round story about facing one’s fears. Young Finn is scared of many things, including tree branches, butterflies, the color orange and flying. On Halloween, he stays home in his attic—noisy humans also make him anxious—while his older brother and sister have a grand time careening through the air. However, when they fail to bring back Finn his favorite Halloween treat (chocolate bats), he swears that he will fly to get his own next year. 

Ahmed’s prose perfectly captures Finn’s trepidation in just a handful of words that will resonate with young readers: “When Finn is afraid, his stomach swoops, his hands sweat, and he can’t move.” Happily, Finn’s gradual self-regulated program of exposure therapy works! He starts out small, simply touching a leafless branch “for one whole minute.” 

Ahmed’s whimsical illustrations are mostly in black and white at the start, except for flashes of that dreaded orange. Despite this limited palette, the pages are wonderfully appealing, never scary or dull. Finn is a simply drawn ghost, but somehow his spirit—pardon the pun—and resolution shine through on every page. As he tackles his fears one by one, color gradually enters his world. The final spread is a glorious ode to Halloween orange, as well as other small splashes of the rainbow. Ghoulishly great, The Ghost Who Was Afraid of Everything will inspire readers sidelined by their own jitters. 

 

The Ghost Who Was Afraid of Everything is a ghoulishly great Halloween story as well as an inspirational guide for readers sidelined by their own jitters.
Review by

Godfather Death is a lively retelling of a Grimm fairy tale about a poor fisherman looking for a godfather for his newborn son. The fisherman rejects God’s offer because he doesn’t feel God treats people fairly, especially since the fisherman and his family live in such poverty. He is smart enough to also reject the devil’s offer—but when Death comes along, he believes he has finally found an honest man. After the christening, Death lets the fisherman in on a scheme that makes him a rich man, but ultimately backfires in a tragic way.

As the fisherman’s captivating quest unfolds, Sally Nicholls weaves in plenty of humor: Christening guests stare at Death—a skeleton with his silver scythe and long black cloak—as “everyone tried very hard to be polite to the baby’s godfather.” When this skeleton figure eats food, “everyone wondered where it went.” 

Julia Sarda illustrates the tale in a limited palette of orange, mustard yellow, dark green and black, imbuing the book with an intriguing, stylized vibe reminiscent of old fairy tales. Her eye-catching illustrations will help readers understand that this is a tale meant to impart wisdom. Note that, like the original, the ending is abrupt and not at all happy. Nonetheless, Godfather Death is a memorable story that’s bound to encourage interesting discussions about life, death and honesty. 

 

Based on a Grimm fairy tale, Godfather Death is a memorable story that’s bound to encourage interesting discussions about life, death and honesty.

Get BookPage in your inbox

Sign up to receive reading recommendations in your favorite genres every Tuesday. 

Recent Features

The ghoulish beings—some of whom are more adorable than creepy—that haunt these books will delight young readers any day of the year.
Review by

Be careful what you wish for. That’s definitely true for Hannah, the seventh grader whose journal constitutes Remy Lai’s Read at Your Own Risk. Hannah and her friends search for a diversion while “some boring author” comes to their school assembly to “talk about his spooky books, which I bet aren’t even spooky.” Instead of attending, they decide to venture into the school attic and play a Ouija board-style game they call “Spirit of the Coin.” After their session, however, Hannah quickly discovers that she is haunted by an evil spirit, who continues to terrify her, and even writes in her journal in red ink. 

The journal format will definitely appeal to middle grade readers, making the story all the more intimate and seemingly real. Nonetheless, be forewarned: As the cover filled with skulls and dripping with blood would suggest, this book is not for the squeamish. While many readers will revel in its thrills and chills, others may be completely terrified, especially by the frequent blood splatters, horrific dental details and the hospitalization of the narrator’s young brother. 

Those whom those details don’t scare off may easily find themselves reading it more than once, looking for clues about the evil spirit. Read at Your Own Risk is a dynamic display of scary storytelling and compelling, haunting graphics that challenges readers to create their own journals. Lai leans into the mysterious as she wields her craft, noting, “Telling a story is like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. Only the storyteller has the box and knows what the whole picture looks like.”

Read at Your Own Risk is a dynamic display of scary storytelling and compelling, haunting graphics that challenges readers to create their own journals.
Review by

When circumstances force Christopher to spend time at his grandfather’s house in the middle-of-nowhere in Scotland, he expects it to be a bore—until he discovers the Archipelago. Home to creatures of myth and items of magic, Christopher’s family has protected the door to the Archipelago for generations. When a young girl named Mal breaks through the entrance and begs Christopher to help save her life and the lives of all magical creatures, his “allegiance” to “wild and living things”—and his own curiosity—leads him to follow her back into the Archipelago.

With its immortal protector missing, dangerous creatures swarming and a strange force trying to take the world’s magic for its own, the Archipelago is no place for children. But Christopher and Mal are the only people who can save it, even if that means working with pirates, peculiar scientists, odd dragons and sphinxes that could easily kill them. If they survive, it will be quite the story to tell. If they fail, everything will fall to ruin.

Bestselling author Katherine Rundell returns to middle grade with the powerful and charming Impossible Creatures, a modern fantasy with a classic feel. It’s hard not to fall in love with the Archipelago: From Mal’s unique flying coat to the myriad of magical creatures, there is much in the world-building to enjoy. Artwork from Ashley Mackenzie highlights the story’s most fantastical moments, adding to the book’s classic adventure feel and immersing readers in its magic. A fully illustrated guide to the mythological creatures in the back matter fleshes out the fictional world, expanding upon little details only hinted at in the text.

Mal and Christopher serve as alternating narrators before the book settles into Christopher’s point of view, which may leave Mal’s early fans a little in the lurch as they hope for more of her perspective. Her role in the story, however, becomes one of utmost importance, and though the book comes to a satisfying conclusion, readers will be itching to see if and how her arc continues in the rest of the series.

Impossible Creatures is an ode to children’s ability to hope and to make hard decisions. As one character puts it, “Children have been underestimated for hundreds of years.” Younger readers who don’t handle dark moments well should wait until they are older to pick this up: The battle of goodness against despair involves death and does not stray away from a harsher narrative. 

But for readers who devour adventure fantasy stories like The Ogress and the Orphans by Kelly Barnhill as well as classics like Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass, Impossible Creatures is a must-read.

Bestselling author Katherine Rundell returns to middle grade with the powerful and charming Impossible Creatures, a modern fantasy with a classic feel.
Review by

Godfather Death is a lively retelling of a Grimm fairy tale about a poor fisherman looking for a godfather for his newborn son. The fisherman rejects God’s offer because he doesn’t feel God treats people fairly, especially since the fisherman and his family live in such poverty. He is smart enough to also reject the devil’s offer—but when Death comes along, he believes he has finally found an honest man. After the christening, Death lets the fisherman in on a scheme that makes him a rich man, but ultimately backfires in a tragic way.

As the fisherman’s captivating quest unfolds, Sally Nicholls weaves in plenty of humor: Christening guests stare at Death—a skeleton with his silver scythe and long black cloak—as “everyone tried very hard to be polite to the baby’s godfather.” When this skeleton figure eats food, “everyone wondered where it went.” 

Julia Sarda illustrates the tale in a limited palette of orange, mustard yellow, dark green and black, imbuing the book with an intriguing, stylized vibe reminiscent of old fairy tales. Her eye-catching illustrations will help readers understand that this is a tale meant to impart wisdom. Note that, like the original, the ending is abrupt and not at all happy. Nonetheless, Godfather Death is a memorable story that’s bound to encourage interesting discussions about life, death and honesty. 

 

Based on a Grimm fairy tale, Godfather Death is a memorable story that’s bound to encourage interesting discussions about life, death and honesty.
Review by

Twelve-year-old Charley Cuffey loves a few things: her Nana Kofi and his stories; correcting the grammar of her best friend, Cool Willie Green; and above all else, baseball. She has been obsessed since her daddy took her to see a Negro Leagues game, and is determined to be the first woman to be a professional baseball player—a big goal for anyone, but even more so for a Black girl living through segregation. When she challenges a bully to a game that takes them into the white part of town, she faces consequences that extend beyond baseball.

Newbery Medalist Kwame Alexander’s Black Star is the gripping second book of what is sure to be an impactful trilogy. The bestselling first installment, The Door of No Return, centered on Kofi, a tween living in Ghana during the 1860s, who loves swimming and his own nana’s stories. His story ended with him facing an unknown fate. This sequel jumps forward to segregated Virginia in the 1920s, where Kofi is a storytelling nana himself, slowly revealing the gaps of his life as he shares them with his granddaughter, Charley.

Alexander has found a magic formula in his verse novels featuring protagonists whose lives revolve around a sport: Their love of the game keeps the plot moving forward and offers a plethora of potential for metaphor. Charley is a vibrant and creative narrator, full of important questions for her Nana, and excellent hyperbole like “it’s so quiet / I can hear the moon.” Alexander uses every aspect of his poems to his advantage. For example, a striking chapter features poems whose titles all begin with “Fifth Sunday,” showing just how significant this big game day is to Charley.

As in The Door of No Return, a significant theme throughout Black Star is the power of storytelling. In an author’s note, Alexander explains his dedication to portraying Black history accurately. He highlights real historical events through actual poetry and information about public figures from that time, but maintains focus on the stories “about the regular families that lived, laughed, loved, danced, worked, failed, hoped, cried, and died just like everybody else.”

Readers continuing the series, as well as those starting with Black Star, will be gifted with a reading experience that is equal parts difficult and beautiful. All will be called to remember Nana Kofi’s wisdom, that “when we water our words, they grow our minds.”

 

Readers continuing Kwame Alexander’s Door of No Return trilogy, as well as those starting with Black Star, will be gifted with a reading experience that is equal parts difficult and beautiful.
Review by

Felix Powell isn’t like most 8-year-olds. When his Nan gives him $5 to spend on anything at a thrift shop, he is drawn toward an old blanket. Additionally, he can communicate with his dog, the phenomenally named Mary Puppins. After he and Puppins try everything they can think of to discover the blanket’s secret magic, they decide to play a game: Can You Free Felix From the Blanket While He Holds On as Tight as He Can? But when the blanket comes off, it’s not Felix the Human Boy hiding underneath. Suddenly, he’s transformed into Felix Powell, Boy Dog!

Felix and Puppins proceed to have a day filled with learning all about being a dog, from bickering with the local stray cat, Gumbo, to learning how to “sweetface” and do “nice-thoughting” with Puppins. But as it gets closer to dinner time, Felix begins to worry how he is going to turn back into a boy. Can he get Gumbo to share the secret she seems to be holding in? Or will his Nan find two dogs when she goes outside to look for Felix?

Newbery Medalist Erin Entrada Kelly’s Felix Powell, Boy Dog is a heartwarming and hilarious opening to a planned series of illustrated chapter books. Felix is also friends with Marisol from Kelly’s previous Maybe Marisol series. New and returning fans will delight at how Kelly tiptoes into fantasy to answer a question many have surely pondered: What is it like to be a dog?

Black-and-white illustrations are equal parts adorable and entertaining, and sure to satisfy voracious graphic novel readers. Here Kelly leans into graphic novel elements, with entire sections of comic-style storytelling. Kelly’s books stand out because of her attention to detail and hidden Easter eggs. For example, in an illustration of a bookshelf at the thrift shop, a lot of the titles are books from Felix Powell, Boy Dog’s imprint, Greenwillow.

Sweet lessons about compassion, as well as copious animal facts, are sprinkled throughout. Reluctant and eager young readers alike will enjoy getting to know Felix and will anxiously imagine what animal he might change into next.

Reluctant and eager young readers alike will enjoy getting to know Felix Powell, Boy Dog, and will anxiously imagine what animal he might change into next.

It’s summertime, and 13-year-old Aidan Cross is looking forward to lots of fun with his closest friends: handsome athlete Kai, class clown Zephyr and studious Terrance. They’ll ride bikes, go swimming, play D&D and watch movies. And they’ll engage in the group’s favorite pastime, “yeeting crap at the Witch House,” a tumbledown Victorian mansion with “broken and shattered windows . . . like hungry mouths with glass teeth.”

Aidan has something specific in mind for the yeeting session at the beginning of Preston Norton’s The House on Yeet Street. In addition to sticks and stones, he’ll yeet his notebook into the Witch House, where it’ll be safe from prying eyes. “The inside of this notebook was the one place Aidan was allowed to be himself. It was nice to invent a version of him that did and said the things he was afraid to say and do”—like confessing his romantic feelings for Kai. 

But the thrill of a successful yeet turns appallingly sour when his friends announce an impending Witch House sleepover. Aidan is desperate to grab his notebook before someone else does, and he sort of succeeds: His friends don’t find it, but a ghost does. She’s Gabby Caldwell, a teenaged girl who was found dead in the mansion 20 years ago and has been stuck inside since. Gabby wants Aidan to find out what happened to her so she can escape the house. She also wants him to continue the story he’s been writing in his notebook (his first positive review!). 

Aidan and friends spring into action, investigating Gabby’s demise and delving into the Witch House’s disturbing past. They encounter landmines galore, including a terrifying specter stalking them around town, a mean girl stealing and posting Aidan’s notebook online and extreme parental exasperation. Can the group make sense of the supernatural goings-on before the house claims another victim?

Norton, author of Hopepunk (one of BookPage’s Best YA Books of 2022), has crafted an action-packed, compelling coming-of-age tale about coming out and becoming brave, all wrapped up in a supremely creepy horror story rife with ghosts and legend, hilarious dialogue and daring adventures. It’s scary, sometimes sweet, rollicking good fun.

Preston Norton has crafted an action-packed, compelling tale about coming out and becoming brave, wrapped up in a supremely creepy horror story rife with ghosts and legend, hilarious dialogue and daring adventures.

Sign Up

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

Recent Reviews

Author Interviews

Recent Features