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All Middle Grade Coverage

Dusty, sepia-toned darkness blankets the pages of Oasis, a  poignant and cinematic graphic novel by Guojing, whose prior acclaimed works include The Only Child and The Flamingo. Previously a concept artist for animated TV shows and games, Guojing has a knack for atmospheric lighting and a strong grasp of the power of scale, which is evident in this eerily beautiful story about two children named JieJie and DiDi (“older sister” and “younger brother” in Chinese) and their efforts to create and maintain a sense of family in an unrelentingly harsh world. 

JieJie and DiDi are adorably small, yet hardy and determined: Every day, they hike across massive dunes in a vast desert to a battered phone booth where they can call their mother, who works in Oasis City. In striking contrast to the kids’ lonely existence in a barren, polluted landscape, Oasis City is “a paradise with the purest water and air” that’s “designed, built, and guarded by AI robots.” But the humans—including the children’s mother—who build the robots are “forgotten ones,” who toil in an underground factory.

One fateful day, Mom misses their call. On their way home, the worried children detour into an Oasis trash dump where they discover a broken AI robot. The kids repair it and activate its “Mother Mode,” which kicks off a whirlwind of learning what it would be like to live with a mother every day—as opposed to the children’s reality of only seeing Mom during the annual moon festival. But the children’s longing for their human Mom does not abate, and when she unexpectedly returns, the characters must all reconsider who they are to each other. Can they create a new kind of household that offers hope for their future, and perhaps even the world at large? 

Oasis is a visually arresting, emotionally moving tale sure to resonate with readers drawn to stories about family in its many guises, as well as those compelled to contemplate the ways in which technology can pull us apart—or become a surprising catalyst for drawing us closer together.

Oasis is a visually arresting, emotionally moving tale sure to resonate with readers drawn to stories about family in its many guises.
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What inspired the desert setting of Oasis?
The desert represents vastness, harshness and emptiness. It also symbolizes the destruction of old ideas, ways of living and civilizations. The story follows two children who show strength as they struggle to survive in a lifeless desert and create their own natural oasis. This extreme desert setting becomes the backdrop for exploring the metaphorical oasis, highlighting the stark contrast between the sacrifices demanded by shiny, artificial progress and the core of human nature and the true essence of humanity.

Your previous two graphic novels, Stormy and The Flamingo, both utilized vibrant colors. Oasis is more muted. What is your process when developing a color palette?

The children live in a forgotten and polluted city in the desert, which is also a landfill from Oasis City. It’s dry, chaotic and hopeless. Bright colors are obviously not suitable for this story, so I used low-key colors to express their mood and situation, and also the unique beauty of the desert.

JieJie and DiDi live alone while waiting for their mother to secure a way for them to join her in Oasis City. This resembles many real-life immigration experiences, and Oasis is specifically dedicated to the left-behind children within China. Can you speak about this theme of migration? 

In reality, many children are left behind for various reasons, and one of the most notable examples can be found in China. Many migrant workers move to the cities in search of better opportunities or a brighter future. However, due to the hukou system—a household registration system similar to a local residence permit—children face significant challenges in accessing education and social benefits in urban areas. As a result, a large number of children are left behind in rural areas, often living with their grandparents. This has led to a growing crisis, with countless children raised without their parents, resulting in emotional distance and a breakdown of fundamental human connections. This situation deeply saddens me, and in my story, the two children represent those who are left behind.

“Despite advancements in technology, why have our most basic and simple needs become luxurious and out of reach? Why are people feeling lonelier and more indifferent?”

The children find moments of happiness even while living in a brutal environment. For example, they enjoy the “beautiful pink color” of the sunset—despite it being a result of pollution. How did you maintain the gentleness in this story, despite its harsh circumstances?

I lived in Beijing for a while during the worst of the smog. I still remember the sight of the beautiful pink sun, partly hidden by the fog. Its color was soft and magical. I also experienced dramatic sandstorms that, for just a few minutes at noon, turned the world dark, as if it were the end of the world. I’ve kept these images in my mind and used them in my story. In one scene, the pink sun represents the children’s longing for their mother—an unreachable wish, like a dream lost in the mist.

The story takes place close to the Mid-Autumn Festival (“moon festival” in the book). What does that festival mean to you? 

The Mid-Autumn Festival, with a history spanning over a thousand years, is a day dedicated to family reunions, with the moon serving as a symbol of this togetherness. On this day, families gather to admire the moon together. In Chinese legends, the moon often represents family members who are absent. One such legend tells of a lonely beauty residing on the moon in a cold palace, longing to be reunited with her family. For me, the Mid-Autumn Festival is just as special as it is for any other Chinese person: It’s a time spent with my parents, grandparents and loved ones, filled with food, laughter and joyful talks.

Do you see Oasis reflecting the labor realities of our world?

In Oasis, which is an upside-down world, the children’s mother has no name. Instead, [she is referred to by] a number in a factory, while artificial intelligence provides the human emotions [in the story]. We see that humans have to work like machines, and having the most basic human emotions has become a luxury. This is not a plot in science fiction. We see it from [factory workers in real life] who fight for their family and a better future for their children.

The mother “works like a robot,” while the AI mom performs the actions of a human mother. How would you describe the dynamic between human and robot in this story? 

The human mother is simple and ordinary, not endowed with superpowers or magic like AI. Yet, for her children, she remains an irreplaceable figure. Her senses, smile, embrace, voice and even her scent cannot be replicated by AI in this story. The true essence of motherhood is unique and incomparable. Since becoming a mother myself, I’ve felt this strength more deeply than ever. The AI robot may serve as a caregiver, a guardian and perhaps even a friend, but it can never replace the warmth and depth of a mother’s love.

Read our starred review of Oasis here.

In Oasis, AI robots can build cities, or fight on the battlefield, or act as mothers. What was the significance of including these different modes? 

AI can become whatever we choose it to be, depending on how we use it. It holds the potential to either help or harm us. In my story, while an insecure human society creates technology driven by its own fears, two children demonstrate how they repurpose the same technology to play a different role, ultimately benefiting the core of humanity.

In the end, the AI robot provides a way for the mother to escape her struggles. Do you envision a hopeful future with AI?

Despite advancements in technology, why have our most basic and simple needs become luxurious and out of reach? Why are people feeling lonelier and more indifferent? Like the ending of the book, I hope AI evolves beyond a tool for the wealthy; I wish for it to help humanity reconnect with its true nature, embrace each other and support those in need.

 

In the author’s latest graphic novel, Oasis, two children seek comfort in a discarded AI robot, while their mother labors in a factory in order to give them a better life.
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Dean Stuart makes a stellar debut with Cassi and the House of Memories, a graphic novel about a girl whose beloved grandfather suffers from dementia. It’s not only a sensitive, informative portrayal of how the disease might affect a loved one—especially for young people—but it’s also an exciting adventure story.

Cassi and her grandfather enjoy time together in his garden, but she is puzzled by some of his behaviors, especially when he suddenly doesn’t seem to recognize her. He confesses, “Sometimes I find myself in the dark” and “alone and confused.” Cassi’s grandmother further explains the situation with a helpful visual demonstration that compares falling dominoes to memories, adding, “Sometimes Grandpa goes to places that are familiar only to him. We can’t see them, but they are very real inside his head.” Cassi’s exuberant personality and Stuart’s dynamic illustrations keep things lively, even during these contemplative moments.

When her grandfather wanders off, Cassi begins to search but suddenly finds herself in a mysterious place, which turns out to be what Grandpa calls “his memory palace.” Cassi finds herself rambling through Escher-like structures of stairways, windows, and doors, and also a huge portrait gallery that allows Cassi access to events from her grandfather’s life. When certain scenes disintegrate, Cassi notes, “This must be his memory falling apart!”

Stuart’s distinctive illustrations are painterly in the very best way—distinct from the comic-book styles found in many other middle grade graphic novels—and full of both action and beauty. He cleverly distinguishes between the present, Grandpa’s memories and the haze of confusion that sometimes overtakes Grandpa’s brain.  Stuart’s use of color and pattern is particularly adept. Many colors that should be bright are muted throughout, accentuating the book’s exploration of fading memory. Cassi’s striped dress helps readers keep track of her in each scene, as does the red sweater Grandpa wears in his old age. Throughout, an elusive, colorful blue butterfly helps steer Cassi through the chaos. In an afterword, Stuart explains that his own father suffered from dementia, and that his goal with Cassi and the House of Memories “was to make a story about connecting.” Cassi learns to appreciate the many dreams, disappointments and events of her grandfather’s life—aspects such as his musical talent—and even manages to alter a past tragedy during an action-packed circus episode. Cassi and the House of Memories is a moving depiction of a grandparent and grandchild’s enduring love and continued understanding in the face of dementia.

Cassi and the House of Memories is a moving depiction of a grandparent and grandchild’s enduring love and continued understanding in the face of dementia.
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“I didn’t know / best friends could die” is the stark opening of award-winning author Renée Watson’s latest novel-in-verse, All the Blues in the Sky. Narrator Sage is still raw and reeling from the death of her best friend (whose name isn’t revealed until late in the novel) after a hit-and-run car accident on Sage’s 13th birthday. The after-school grief group Sage attends offers moments of shared understanding but also envy and resentment—Sage feels a gulf between her own sudden, heartrending loss and the experiences of other students who were able to say goodbye to terminally ill loved ones over weeks or months.

In the pages that follow, the novel offers a blend of Sage’s memories of her friend, her longing for a different reality where her friend still lives, and her painful feelings of guilt. Watson takes her readers through various stages of grief, showing that the process is messy, ugly and far from linear—especially when another impending loss compounds Sage’s sorrow.

Throughout, Watson employs vivid imagery to convey Sage’s complicated emotions in ways both lyrical and concrete: “Tiny flowers blooming out of the planter outside a brownstone, showing off their beauty. / And across the street, a pile of garbage bags holding rotting things.” Watson doesn’t hold back in depicting the wrenching heartache of a beloved life lost too soon, but she also brings her young readers to a powerful realization: that although loss is inevitable, we can all do our best to love as well and fiercely as we can, for as long as we can.

With her unique propensity for writing about complex emotions and difficult situations for young audiences, Renee Watson might be the queen of middle grade. It’s no wonder that we’re excited for her newest offering, All the Blues in the Sky, which explores grief as it follows its 13-year-old protagonist, Sage, through the aftermath of her best friend’s death.

In prolific author-illustrator and Walt Disney animator Benson Shum’s colorful, upbeat new book We Are Lion Dancers, Lunar New Year is fast approaching, and siblings Lily and Noah are lucky enough to learn about and celebrate this festive Chinese tradition.

The adorable duo’s curiosity is piqued when, after kung fu class, they encounter two lion dancers practicing for the Lunar New Year parade. The lion dance “scares away evil spirits,” they explain, “and brings good luck and happiness to everyone for the New Year.”  

The kids are fascinated by the lion costume’s vivid colors and furry details. Even better, “It takes two people to make the lion come alive,” and the dancers let Lily and Noah try it! Alas, although the kids quickly get the hang of various lion-y movements, the costume is too big for their little bodies. Rather than be disappointed, they find another way to participate: Lily plays the gong and Noah plays the cymbals while the adults practice their dance.   

The siblings’ creativity and adaptability comes into play at home, too, where they use a cardboard box, sheet and more to create a kid-sized lion costume. “Together, they LIFT AND SHAKE, LIFT AND SHAKE. They even give a little ROAR.” On parade day, they add the gong and cymbals from earlier to the joyful noise of the Lunar New Year paraders and the appreciative crowd. And afterward, they’re thrilled to receive a special surprise gift as a thank you for their help—and encouragement to carry on the lion dance tradition. 

We Are Lion Dancers is a winning tale that warmly depicts the excitement of discovery, the fun of being part of a team and the value of learning about and participating in important traditions. Throughout the book, Shum provides lots of fascinating historical and cultural details, such as events where the dance is performed (Lunar New Year celebrations, weddings, business openings) and the particulars of two traditional dance styles (Southern and Northern). “The Story of Nian” at the book’s end describes the dance’s mythical origin story, offering both context and inspiration for the next generation of aspiring lion dancers. Roar!

We Are Lion Dancers is a winning tale that warmly depicts the excitement of discovery, the fun of being part of a team and the value of learning about and participating in important traditions.
Review by

When Abby Lai was young, she wished for a sibling to play with. Her parents granted her wish . . . four times over. Now the oldest of five, 12-year-old Abby tries to spend as much time outside her house as possible. After all, as she says in the epigraph of Chickenpox, “Younger siblings are like viruses. They’re tiny, and they can make you sick.” 

But then Abby is the one to accidentally bring a virus into her home, by having one of her best friends come over to play and unknowingly infect the household with chickenpox. Soon enough, all five siblings have caught it. The only thing that makes Abby’s skin crawl more than her inevitable rash is the thought of being in quarantine with her siblings for the next 10 days. 

Chickenpox is award-winning author and illustrator Remy Lai’s first semi-autobiographical work, following several acclaimed graphic novels such as Pawcasso and Ghost Book. Lai made the unique decision to write from her big sister’s point of view, acknowledging in an author’s note, “I could only write this book as an adult because it took me growing up to understand, empathize, and appreciate the things my sisters did and felt.” Her portrayal of her sister as a funny, anxious, sweet and headstrong main character carries a love for Abby that readers are sure to catch, leaving them hoping that Lai will tell more stories about her siblings.

Lai’s illustrations shine as always, with many hilarious metaphors drawn in, and vibrant backgrounds and expressive characters to emphasize the intense emotions that come with being a kid approaching adolescence. Lai clues present-day young people in to what life was like in Indonesia in 1994 through historically accurate details accompanied by occasional parenthetical additions that provide crucial information, such as how a home’s telephones all run on the same line.

This graphic novel is the perfect blend of the friend drama of The Tryout by Christina Soontornvat and the family drama in Twins by Varian Johnson. Laughter about the Lai siblings’ antics will be as contagious as chickenpox was in the ’90s! 

 

Laughter about the Lai siblings' antics in Remy Lai’s semi-autobiographical novel Chickenpox will be as contagious as chickenpox was in the '90s.
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STARRED REVIEW
December 10, 2024

Six poetry gifts for young readers

Poems inspire sharing, discussion and creativity. These collections explore a wide range of subjects, with moods from sunny to serious, and would make thoughtful gifts for babies, kids and teens alike.
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Bursting with energy and bright images, Beware the Dragon and the Nozzlewock is smart, sassy and perfect for reading alone or out loud together.

Bursting with energy and bright images, Beware the Dragon and the Nozzlewock is smart, sassy and perfect for reading alone or out loud together.

While the masterful poems in Grace Notes evoke the specific history of her mother’s life, Nye never leaves readers out of the frame, encouraging them to ask questions and think deeply.

While the masterful poems in Grace Notes evoke the specific history of her mother’s life, Nye never leaves readers out of the frame, encouraging them to ask questions and think deeply.

The Smell of Wet Dog is chock-full of luscious light verse designed to draw in even the most reluctant of poetry readers.

The Smell of Wet Dog is chock-full of luscious light verse designed to draw in even the most reluctant of poetry readers.

The City Sings Green is inspiring, and likely to encourage budding environmentalists to more closely consider the intersection between humans and nature.

The City Sings Green is inspiring, and likely to encourage budding environmentalists to more closely consider the intersection between humans and nature.

After reading Windsongs, kids and parents alike might find themselves creating their own poems, inspired by Douglas Florian’s poetry about the dew, drought, thunder and frost.

After reading Windsongs, kids and parents alike might find themselves creating their own poems, inspired by Douglas Florian’s poetry about the dew, drought, thunder and frost.

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Poems inspire sharing, discussion and creativity. These collections explore a wide range of subjects, with moods from sunny to serious, and would make thoughtful gifts for babies, kids and teens alike.

Valeria “Magic” Salomon is the star of the Overlords, the best boys soccer team in Utah. As Yamile Saied Méndez’s The Beautiful Game opens, expectations are high: The Overlords are defending state champions, and Coach and his assistant José are determined to conquer Nationals this year. 

Valeria is confident in her abilities and ready to revel in a glorious victory lap, but she’s also sad her absentee father won’t be at the State Cup to cheer her on. “If he loved me,” she thinks, “why wasn’t he by my side for all the important events in my life?” And it’s not as if she can relax at home. Coach is her abuelo and rules her life with a grouchy iron fist. He also doesn’t defend her from snidely sexist José, which certainly taints her futbol experience. 

On game day, Valeria gives it her all, but alas: The team flubs an important play; Abuelo learns his estranged daughter in Argentina has passed away; and Valeria gets her first period and publicly bleeds through her white shorts. José blames her for the loss and ousts her from the team, while Abuelo and the Overlords betray her with their silent assent. 

Just like that, Valeria finds herself adrift and desperate to find a way to keep playing soccer. Thankfully, she secures a spot on a girls team, the Amazons, but is nervous about fitting in. Will she win over Coach Blume? Can she adjust to positive reinforcement and true teamwork? Who is she if she’s not the star? 

The Beautiful Game is a compelling, heartfelt story about second chances, complex family dynamics, and the joy and pain of growing up. Fans of Méndez’s Furia, recipient of the 2021 Pura Belpré Young Adult Author Award, will be thrilled the author has once again created a memorable young futbol-focused protagonist with loads of talent and grit. After all, “the game is brutal. But it’s also beautiful. It breaks your heart, but then it gives you a chance to put it back together.”

The Beautiful Game is a compelling, heartfelt story about second chances, complex family dynamics, and the joy and pain of growing up.
Review by

Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” is so well known and so often quoted that its beauty has almost become staid from overuse: It could use a refresh. In this picture book, author Richard T. Morris and illustrator Julie Rowan-Zoch have taken Frost’s words off the shelf, given them a dusting, added a kid and a hippopotamus, and created a delightful, charming and clever tale. Stopping by Jungle on a Snowy Evening is an irreverent homage that will leave all readers smiling. 

Stopping by Jungle on a Snowy Evening begins with a little boy riding a blue hippopotamus through the wintry woods as he recites Frost’s famous opening, but with a hippopotamus instead of the poem’s “little horse.” However, he is interrupted by the poet himself, who climbs out of his window to correct him. Their conversation becomes increasingly ridiculous as the child imagines even more bizarre answers to the poet’s logical objections. Things get delightfully out of hand, ending in complete chaos and an unlikely inspiration for yet another famous poem. Richard T. Morris narrates with an easy, conversational and factual tone. While Frost and his young rewriter come from very different places, their chatty exchanges feel more collaborative than conflicting. 

Julie Rowan-Zoch’s cartoon-like depiction of the protagonist is immediately familiar and loveable: curious, imaginative and a little cheeky, wearing a backwards hat and slide sandals. In contrast, Frost is drawn in a more traditional style. Rowan-Zoch’s bold, clever art mashes both their worlds together; a classically painted snowy forest scene right out of Frost’s original poem is delightfully invaded by snakes, jungle birds and a karate hippo. As Frost’s world unravels—snow falls in the jungle, cookies fall from the sky—the exasperated poet’s appearance also becomes more and more ragged. Reality and imagination smash together, and the result is perfect hilarity.

Stopping by Jungle on a Snowy Evening is a rare find. It’s a combo of old and new, clever and classic, innovative and familiar—perfect for any fathomable storytime scenario. Even more rare, there isn’t a single thing this reviewer would change about it. Two thumbs up.

Stopping by Jungle on a Snowy Evening is a rare find. It’s a combo of old and new, clever and classic, innovative and familiar—perfect for any fathomable storytime scenario.

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.
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On the remote island of Merlank, shoes belonging to the recently dead are brought to the Ferryman so that he can shepherd their spirits across the sea to their final resting place. If they choose to linger instead of climbing the Broken Tower and leaving the earthly realm, they push at the edges of the veil that separates the living and the dead, causing destruction. Thirteen-year-old Milo is the Ferryman’s younger son. His older brother Leif will take up the mantle when their father passes: The Ferryman has always said that Milo is not suited to the role because he is too susceptible to emotions—his own, and the dead’s. 

But when the Lord of Merlank’s daughter suddenly dies, the Lord is unwilling to let her go, and what begins as a peaceful negotiation for his daughter’s shoes turns deadly. The Lord’s guards murder the Ferryman and capture Leif, and Milo flees with the shoes, knowing that the burden of the dead has now fallen on him. With the Lord and his terrifying magicians in close pursuit, Milo sets sail for the Broken Tower, knowing that he must follow in his father’s imposing footsteps—but that he must also become his own version of the Ferryman.

Island of Whispers, author Francis Hardinge’s middle grade novella with drawings from children’s illustrator Emily Gravett, is a subtle, dreamlike fable about grief, letting go and carving your own path along heavily trodden ground. At only 120 pages, the story itself is brief, but far from lacking in depth. Hardinge writes with the deft, light touch of classic writers of fairy tales, her prose and imagery enchanting yet spare. She balances the novella’s weighty themes of denial and grief with a linguistic accessibility that makes the book feel welcoming for younger readers, while still appealing to a wide audience.

The story is illuminated by Gravett’s gorgeous black and white illustrations, which are reminiscent of Scandinavian woodblock prints or even Wanda Gág’s lithographs. The images bolster the out-of-time feeling that the rest of the story is imbued with, and add to the subtle magic that is woven throughout. Island of Whispers is a quiet book, but it’s also a resonant one; it would be wholly unsurprising to find it, decades from now, nestled on a shelf of worn and loved classics.

Island of Whispers is a quiet book, but it’s also a resonant one. It would be wholly unsurprising to find it, decades from now, nestled on a shelf of worn and loved classics.
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
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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.

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