Pawcasso is a joyful graphic novel from acclaimed author-illustrator Remy Lai (Pie in the Sky) that abounds with silliness, camaraderie and a few white lies.

A dog wanders around town, holding a basket in his mouth. There’s a shopping list inside the basket, but why is the dog shopping on his own? Where is his owner? And where will he go next? Jo is bored, upset that her father has left on yet another extended work trip and eager for a distraction. When she sees the dog pass by her house, she slips out of her yard and follows him into the cleverly named Dog Ears bookstore, where a children’s painting class is being held in an upstairs meeting room.

The class is so enamored with the charming dog that they name him Pawcasso and invite both him and Jo back for the next class, under the mistaken impression that the dog belongs to Jo. Though she wonders where his owners are, Jo effectively adopts Pawcasso, going so far as to give him a bath after he rolls in something stinky. She quickly comes to love the attention she receives when everyone believes that Pawcasso is her dog.

But not all of Jo’s neighbors find Pawcasso charming. It turns out that the Duchamp family has submitted a petition to the city council that would require all dogs to be leashed, and the town quickly becomes divided over the issue. How can Jo protect Pawcasso when he doesn’t even belong to her?

All over town, children and adults work together to support their side of the debate in an excellent depiction of civic engagement. Characters respectfully stand up for their beliefs, gather support and follow through. Lai’s candy-colored, cartoon-style illustrations are a delightful complement to this cute, clever romp. The book is full of well-executed canine puns and jokes, including Jo’s fabulously phrased apology: “I made a Chihuahua-sized lie, but it snowballed into a Great Dane-sized lie.”

Readers who enjoyed Lai’s two previous illustrated middle grade novels will love Pawcasso, her first graphic novel. It’s a gentle story of community, forgiveness and redemption.

Libby lands in trouble at school for painting a blazing sunrise on a boring, empty wall. During her punishment, she comes across a trinket that belonged to her former art teacher, a rock with the message “Create the world of your dreams” etched into it. “Here is someone who got me,” Libby thinks, and pockets the stone. Ann Braden’s second middle grade novel, Flight of the Puffin, depicts how impactful it can be for a young person to feel ‘gotten’ by someone.

Chapters alternate between four children: creative Libby; football player Jack; math and puffin enthusiast Vincent; and T, who lives on the street with their dog, Peko. Braden builds moving portraits of these characters as they struggle with the unachievable expectations placed on them by their parents. For instance, Libby’s passion for spreading joyful, colorful art with a positive message isn’t appreciated by her mom, who takes away her art supplies, while Jake collects signatures for a petition. All four characters are united by their openness to new ideas to help heal their world.

The children empathetically portrayed in Flight of the Puffin demonstrate courage and strength as they remain faithful to who they are. In this emotional book, Braden movingly underscores the simple truth that everyone needs love, companionship and acceptance.

Newbery Medalist Karen Cushman (The Midwife’s Apprentice; Catherine, Called Birdy) loves to write about “gutsy girls figuring out who they are.” The titular character of War and Millie McGonigle is yet another outstanding creation.

Twelve-year-old Millie knows all too well what it’s like to endure a personal and a national crisis simultaneously. It’s September 1941. Over the summer, as World War II raged in Europe, Millie’s beloved grandmother died on Millie’s birthday. No wonder Millie feels that the world is “full of war and death.”

Just before she died, Gram gave Millie a diary and instructed her to use it to remember good things. Now Millie keeps her “Book of Dead Things” like a talisman, jotting down notes and sketches of things she sees, such as an octopus caught by a fisherman on the San Diego beach near her home. She’s also developed a ritual of writing her last name in the sand over and over, which she hopes will keep death away from her family.

Money is tight for the McGonigles, but everyone pitches in to help the war effort. After Mama becomes a welder and Pop gets a job as a clerk at the Navy Exchange, Millie is left to oversee her younger siblings, including Lily, who has weak lungs. Gram’s absent-minded cousin Edna also moves in, making the family’s tight quarters even tighter. As Millie seeks freedom outdoors, she finds joy in a new friend and develops a crush on an older surfer.

As always, Cushman exquisitely captures her story’s historical setting. Readers will feel the San Diego sun on their shoulders as Millie steers her rowboat into warm bay waters and the sand between their toes as Millie explores the mud flats. Millie’s winning first-person narration is filled with 1940s slang like “holy mackerel” and “good gravy,” as well as references to “The Lone Ranger,” Bob Hope and the ongoing fear of polio. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, the McGonigles sleep in their clothes and keep suitcases packed in case they have to evacuate, and their blackout curtains make Millie feel as though there is “not a glimmer of light left on earth.”

Despite such serious topics, War and Millie McGonigle is a lively book filled with humor, love and transformation. Millie gradually learns to navigate her grief, deal with her fears and shift her focus from war and death to life and the living. Though Cushman roots the story in tangible details of the ’40s, it has much to offer contemporary readers. Gram, for instance, was a crusader who felt that all girls should know “songs of protest and the phone number of your state representative.” Millie follows in her grandmother’s footsteps and repeatedly intervenes to prevent bullying against kids of Italian and Japanese descent.

Reminiscent of Katherine Paterson’s sensitive portrayals of grief, War and Millie McGonigle acknowledges the suffocating enormities of fear, injustice and tragedy Millie experiences while revealing a path forward. As Gram tells Millie, “Life’s not hopeless. We can do something about what worries and scares us. . . . Despite the horror, people care, work together for a better world, and bravely fight back.”

In The One Thing You’d Save, a teacher named Ms. Chang invites her students to participate in a thought exercise. If their house caught fire, what one thing would they choose to save? Each child, along with Ms. Chang, considers, chooses and then explains their selection. The responses vary widely, ranging from the practical (a wallet, an expensive laptop) to the sentimental (a beloved hand-knit sweater, the program from a New York Mets game) to the lifesaving (an insulin kit).

Newbery Medalist Linda Sue Park (A Single Shard) presents the story through narrative poems made up of first-person internal monologue and spoken dialogue. The students’ interactions range from playful to serious, lighthearted to profound, as they consider which objects are most important to them. Rich with youthful attitude, Park’s verses provide a wonderfully nuanced portrayal of the preoccupations, loves, losses and aspirations of a diverse group of children and their teacher. 

Debut illustrator Robert Sae-Heng’s grayscale images envision the objects the students describe, as well as scenes of their homes, the classroom, the night sky, the city and more, though the scenes never include the speakers themselves. Occasional full-spread illustrations offer wordless moments that encourage the reader to rest and contemplate before moving on. 

As the characters discuss, share and interpret their ideas, The One Thing You’d Save forms a delightful portrait of a group of learners in community with one another. In a brief note, Park explains that her verses are variations on a Korean poetry form called sijo, which consists of three lines of 13 to 17 syllables. She writes, “Using old forms in new ways is how poetry continually renews itself, and the world.” It’s impossible not to feel a sense of renewal from this thoughtful book.

“It’s not about winning; it’s about having fun.” That’s what parents and coaches always say—but it’s not always what they mean. In Rivals, Tommy Greenwald’s second novel set in the fictional town of Walthorne (after 2018’s Game Changer), having fun is immaterial when it comes to a high-pressure middle school basketball season between the Walthorne North Cougars and the Walthorne South Panthers. Everyone wants to win, and they’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.

Students from both wealthy Walthorne North and working-class Walthrone South have a lot riding on this basketball season. Cougar Austin Chambers wants to live up to his dad’s basketball legacy, but no amount of practice with his private coach is going to make him grow eight inches overnight. Panther Carter Haswell knows he’s talented enough to be an exceptional player, maybe even to win a college athletic scholarship, but skill and ability don’t always equate to passion for the game itself. And Alfie Jenks isn’t a basketball player at all. The self-professed “least-coordinated person ever born” dreams of becoming a sports reporter, but she soon learns that investigating the world of middle school athletics means uncovering truths that could shake her community to its core.

Along with appealing first-person narratives from Austin, Carter and Alfie, Rivals also incorporates epistolary elements including text messages, blog and message board posts and transcripts of radio interviews. As the drama of the season propels the plot forward, Greenwald explores the racial, gender and socioeconomic divides in Walthorne in ways that feel wholly organic to the story. He digs deeply and critically into the no-holds-barred, win-at-all-costs environments experienced by many middle and high school athletes. 

Rivals features plenty of thrilling basketball and all the turmoil of a fierce rivalry, but what lingers is its indictment of a harmful culture created by adults—parents, coaches and school administrators—that shapes youth sports and, ultimately, young people themselves. 

When 13-year-old Olivia climbs aboard her aunt and uncle’s RV with her prized camera and her 16-year-old sister, Ruth, she’s both excited and trepidatious. She has two big plans for this trip: first, to dig up a time capsule that she and Ruth buried in California before moving away three years ago; and second, to surprise Ruth by revisiting the places where they took photos together during their cross-country move to Tennessee, photos of them having a blast and doing the silly things sisters do, before Ruth started sliding into what Olivia has dubbed “The Pit,” a difficult and ongoing experience with depression. 

Although Ruth has changed since their last trip together, Olivia is still optimistic about her plans. After all, “who wouldn’t be excited about a cross-country road trip in an RV? Digging up buried treasure? And exploring pirate ships?” Ruth, for one. She’s acting distant, hooked up to her old iPod at all times, her energy and enthusiasm lagging. Olivia feels responsible for her older sister, and she tries everything to pull Ruth out of “The Pit.” As they travel across the country, Olivia struggles to understand that she can’t take responsibility for her sister’s mental health or happiness.

Author Sarah Allen’s second book, Breathing Underwater, uses accessible yet lyrical language to depict Olivia’s attempts to recapture the joyful memories she and Ruth shared in the past. Olivia’s first-person perspective sheds light on the swirling mix of love, guilt and responsibility that she feels for her sister. It also allows Allen to sensitively describe what depression looks like when it’s experienced by a young person, as well as the impact it can have on their family. Notably, Allen offers no quick fixes and no saccharine, orchestrated happy ending. Olivia cannot heal her sister, but the girls do find a way forward together in a way that feels authentic and true to who they have each become.

Breathing Underwater is a lovely, important book that will be an especially welcome balm for any young reader who loves someone with mental illness. Olivia’s love for her sister shines through on every page and reinforces what a powerful thing it is to simply be there for someone. 

Leonard quotes Walt Whitman, has an affinity for knock-knock jokes and “I Love Lucy” and absolutely adores his shiny yellow rain slicker. Oh, and he’s an alien trapped in the body of a cat. 

The twitchy-tailed, inquisitive and funny narrator of Carlie Sorosiak’s Leonard (My Life as a Cat) is an immortal being from another planet who has been looking forward to his 300th birthday, when, according to tradition, he’ll get to visit Earth and take human form for a month. “Humans write books, and share thoughts over coffee, and make things for absolutely zero reason. Swimming pools, doorbells, elevators—I was dying to discover the delight of them all.”

But on the way down to Earth, he gets distracted and—meow!—ends up in the body of a cat, clinging to a tree in a ferocious South Carolina rainstorm. He’s rescued by Olive, an 11-year-old girl who’s spending the summer with her grandmother, Norma. At first, Leonard is frantic: This is not the body he imagined! Why is he suddenly obsessed with destroying the curtains? And how will he ever get home, if his prearranged interstellar rendezvous point at Yellowstone National Park is 2,000 miles away and he only has 30 days to get there? 

Despite his worries, Leonard grows to appreciate his situation and the fascinating humans he now depends on. Readers will delight in his feline-out-of-water wonder at things we humans take for granted, from cheese to thumbs to umbrellas. They’ll also easily relate to his feelings of frustration, longing and excitement as he and Olive learn to accept and celebrate what makes them each unique. Leonard and Olive’s friendship is a heartwarming reminder that families don’t need to be biologically related—or even from the same planet.

Leonard is a witty, inventive and wonderful tale that encourages readers to step back and see the beautiful picture painted by our interrelated world. It invites us to appreciate the marvelous in the mundane, and to take a closer look at the animals we encounter, just in case they’ve got something important to say.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Carlie Sorosiak reveals how she tapped into the perspective of a cat who is actually an alien!

Laura Amy Schlitz’s Newbery Medal-winning novel, Good Masters! Sweet Ladies!, immersed readers in the sights, sounds and smells of medieval life, warts and all. Her masterfully constructed Amber & Clay transports young readers to ancient Greece, a place with serious inequality and injustice where young people could become part of history and where ghosts and gods walk the mortal world.

The novel is populated by about three dozen characters, several of whom take turns narrating the tale, including the gods Hermes and Hephaistos. At the story’s center are two young people from very different backgrounds. Rhaskos is an enslaved Thracian boy who dreams of drawing horses but spends his days picking up dung at his enslaver’s home in Thessaly. At the other end of the social spectrum is Melisto, the daughter of a rich Athenian citizen. She is beloved by her father but chafes against her mother’s expectations. Melisto is thrilled to be selected as one of the girls who will serve the goddess Artemis at her sanctuary in Brauron. Though Melisto cherishes the freedom she finds there, she dreads the day she will have to return to the strictures of Athens.

These two young people come from such different worlds that it’s not surprising their paths cross only after one of them dies. Such a mysterious premise is par for the course in Schlitz’s wonderfully enigmatic and multilayered novel.

Readers may wonder how Rhaskos became friends with Sokrates (as the novel spells the famous philosopher's name) and what is the purpose of the illustrations of Greek pottery, jewelry and other artifacts throughout the book, complete with placards as though they came from a museum. Yet Amber & Clay rewards patient readers with clarity, great beauty and humor (Hermes’ narration is particularly funny), as well as moments of both crushing grief and cautious hope. Schlitz grants her narrators markedly different voices; some speak in verse and others in prose, and she even replicates some of Plato’s most well-known dialogues while fitting them into the larger story’s context.

Readers of all ages will come away from Amber & Clay with a richer understanding of ancient Greece’s social structures, including its reliance on slavery and its cultural productions and beliefs. This splendid novel could easily join a curriculum on ancient Greece, helping to humanize the people and events of the past and inspiring readers to learn even more about this fascinating period in history.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Laura Amy Schlitz reveals why learning to speak Greek was a “turning point” as she wrote Amber & Clay.

In J.D. Jones’ family, nobody gets a haircut until they turn 9, when they receive a home buzz cut. J.D.’s mom has been busy lately, so J.D. is glad for a chance to spend time with her when she cuts his hair before the first day of third grade. He hopes she can manage a basic fade, but when he looks in the mirror to check out his new hairstyle, what he sees is . . . not good.

J.D. is used to his classmates’ teasing over his hand-me-down clothes, but being mocked for his hair is a new low, so he springs into action. He tries his mom’s hair relaxer, which only makes his hair look worse. Next, he uses the family’s clippers, but not before testing them out on his little brother first. 

Fortunately, it turns out that J.D. is a haircutting whiz. Not only does he escape punishment for cutting his brother’s hair without permission, but soon everyone is asking J.D. to work his magic on their hair, lining up to pay him for his haircuts. He sets up shop on his back porch and is quickly flush with cash, until the owner of the only barber shop in town tries to shut him down. Desperate, J.D. challenges him to a haircutting competition that will put all of his new skills to the test.

Debut author J. Dillard is a former master barber, and he effortlessly welcomes readers into J.D.’s small hometown of Meridian, Mississippi, where “everyone . . . knows everything about everyone else.” It’s a lively place, where J.D. is surrounded by a close-knit group of family and friends, where money is always a little tight. Like most kids his age, J.D. longs to define himself and to discover where he can excel, and young readers will enjoy watching him gain self-confidence along with his skills as a barber and entrepreneur.

Dillard has a sharp ear for dialogue, and J.D.’s conversational narration paired with the story’s gentle humor and perfectly placed pop culture references will ensure a wide appeal. Akeem S. Roberts’ cartoon-style illustrations of J.D. and his friends are packed with personality and make this a great choice for readers transitioning into chapter books. The first book in a planned series, J.D. and the Great Barber Battle feels like a winner.

Nigerian-born children’s author Atinuke introduces a memorable new heroine in Too Small Tola, which contains three short, illustrated stories. 

Tola lives in Lagos, Nigeria, the most populous city on the African continent, in an apartment that she shares with her older brother, sister and grandmother. The book’s stories explore facets of Tola’s everyday life. She helps Grandmommy shop for groceries, she deals with the neighborhood bully as well as the electricity and water being shut off in her building, and she helps her neighbor, Mr. Abdul the tailor, finish his work so that his family can have their Eid feast.

Atinuke is a masterful storyteller, playing with language and rhythm as she evokes Tola’s world. Every sentence is fun to read—a quality that shouldn’t be underestimated in a book created for young readers still learning the ropes of independent reading. Each tale ends by coming full circle back to its beginning, and the stories echo and connect to each other in ways that will reward multiple readings. Too Small Tola’s gentle morals linger with an unusually satisfying combination of inevitability and surprise.  

Atinuke surrounds Tola with appealing characters and a vibrant setting full of wonderfully specific details, such as the treats Tola and Grandmommy share on their way home from the market. Illustrator Onyinye Iwu renders Tola and her family in endearing and expressive images that capture their personalities perfectly. Too Small Tola will make readers eager to read more about Tola; Lagos is clearly bursting with more stories to tell.

Annie Logan believes she was born under an unlucky star. It’s what her mom always said, before she left their family when Annie was only 4 years old. Was Annie the reason she left? Annie will never know for sure, but she feels like the black sheep of the family anyway. Although she’s 11 now, her older brother, Ray, treats her like a baby, and she chafes under her dad’s strict rules—and neither her brother nor her dad ever wants to talk about Ma. 

Reluctant to get close to anyone yet eager to fit in, Annie agrees to a game of ding-dong-ditch that goes awry when the house’s elderly owner, Gloria, trips and falls on her way to the door. Annie’s ill-fated and, yes, unlucky prank comes with a reprimand, and she must help Gloria with her oddball dog all summer. 

Annie’s summer of reckoning offers many epiphanies. Getting closer to Gloria takes time and effort but proves rewarding. Gloria challenges Annie’s long-held belief that luck is something beyond her control, and as the two develop an unusual friendship, Annie begins to realize that her own luck, whether for good or for ill, might be up to her. 

Against the backdrop of the small North Carolina town’s upcoming Rosy Maple Moth Festival, the characters in These Unlucky Stars face their weaknesses and discover their strengths despite the many challenges life has put in their way. Annie’s mother rarely comes up in the story, but McDunn excels in illustrating how her absence has shaped Annie’s life and continues to influence every decision she makes. These Unlucky Stars is a warmhearted story about learning to make your own way, in luck and in life.

Ancestor Approved: Intertribal Stories for Kids is a lively anthology of interlinked short stories and poems from a wide range of Native American writers, including Christine Day, Eric Gansworth, Traci Sorell and Joseph Bruchac, as well as editor and Heartdrum co-founder Cynthia Leitich Smith. It’s also the first anthology published by Heartdrum, a new imprint within HarperCollins Children’s Publishing dedicated to Native American stories and creators.

In a web of stories as intricate as the dancers’ beaded outfits, through voices as varied as the tribes represented at the powwow, the authors create a memorable group of characters who interact and overlap at the Dance for Mother Earth Powwow in Ann Arbor, Michigan, one of the biggest powwows in the United States. Some characters are already acquainted, while others are meeting for the first time. Some dance on the stage, while others are content to watch, and some are deeply in touch with their heritage and tribal traditions, while others are discovering them for the first time. Their experiences and backgrounds reflect the rich and varied vibrancy of Native communities. Readers will feel invited to celebrate these experiences as they read about the food, art and performances of the powwow.

Much of American children’s literature has for too long relegated Indigenous people and their stories to the category of historical fiction. Ancestor Approved shines a long overdue spotlight on a joyful aspect of Native life in America today.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Cynthia Leitich Smith and editor Rosemary Brosnan share the origin story of Heartdrum and explain why its existence is breaking important new ground.