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.

Rufus the great horned owl is the self-declared “worst owl in the history of owldom.” Next to his fledgling sister, First, 6-month-old Rufus feels like a runt. An unsuccessful, can’t-hunt-to-save-his-life runt. When Rufus’ mother is captured by humans while First is away from their nest, Rufus is left alone, afraid and unprotected against the unknown dangers of the night.

Reenie is far from thrilled to go live with her “alleged aunt” Bea, whom she’s never met, while her mother undergoes psychiatric treatment—until she learns that Bea is a falconer. As Bea raises a hawk and begins planning for passage bird season, Reenie is entranced and begins learning all she can about the fascinating sport.

Rufus’ and Reenie’s stories intersect when Rufus—cold, injured and sick—is ensnared in Bea’s live trap. Bea and Reenie take Rufus in to rehabilitate him, but Reenie soon develops an attachment to him that cannot last, because the goal of rehabilitation is to release the animal back in its habitat. Besides, Reenie has learned the hard way that attachments are usually temporary.

Reenie and Rufus narrate Of a Feather in chapters that alternate between their perspectives. The format is a smart choice by author Dayna Lorentz that easily allows readers to see the parallels in their situations. They’re both lost, missing their mothers and seeking the reassurance and validation they need to be able to soar on their own wings. Reenie longs to make friends, but is afraid of the vulnerability that comes with opening up. Rufus is torn between the ease of living with humans and returning to the wild to find both his mother and his higher purpose.

Author Dayna Lorentz is no stranger to writing about animal-human relationships; her previous books include the Dogs of the Drowned City trilogy, written from the perspective of a dog separated from his family in the aftermath of a hurricane. Her deep research into the world of falconry and bird rehabilitation are present on every page as she conveys the exhilarating rush of working with incredible birds of prey. Though readers will pick up quite a bit of information by reading the story itself, significant back matter provides even more fuel for curiosity and discovery.

Of a Feather’s wonderful balance of nature-driven narrative and emotional storytelling will appeal to readers who love the great outdoors as well as those who prefer to stay inside with a good book.

Things are not going well for Amari Peters. Her scholarship to tony Jefferson Academy is being revoked on the last day of school because she shoved a classmate after being subjected to continuous bullying. And as if she didn’t have enough to worry about, her older brother, Quinton, has been missing for six months after starting a secret job. The police have stopped looking for him, assuming he was involved in illegal activities and met an unfortunate end, but Amari refuses to give up.

So much more awaits Amari in debut author B.B. Alston’s lively fantasy adventure, Amari and the Night Brothers. She is soon whisked away to tryouts at the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs, the top-secret agency where her brother once flourished. To become a Junior Agent, Amari must pass three quests, and she plans to investigate what’s become of Quinton as she does so.

Alston maintains a rapid pace as he creates a magical world full of dangers that lurk around every corner and drops delectable details with obvious delight. Fantasy readers will love watching Amari master illusions and spells and discover the “truth” about creatures like leprechauns, dragons and the abominable snowman.

There’s a whole world of misunderstanding out there, and sadly, Amari’s new school isn’t much different from Jefferson Academy. It’s also filled with privileged, bullying classmates who are intimidated by Amari’s intelligence. Thankfully, she makes a few trusted friends, including Dylan, whose twin sister becomes Amari’s archrival and whose older sister disappeared with Quinton. Amari’s reaction to an instructor who tells her he’s never seen “a worse prospect” for the Bureau encapsulates her determination: “I’m tired of being underestimated,” she retorts. “You’re wrong about me.”

Fans of blockbuster middle grade fantasy sagas will adore this empowering, action-packed series opener featuring a confident Black heroine who is just beginning to discover her own gifts.

Reha, an Indian American girl, narrates Rajani LaRocca’s Red, White, and Whole in first-person free verse as she navigates what she describes as “two lives. / One that is Indian, / one that is not.”

It’s 1983 and Reha, an only child, is in middle school. The differences between her two cultures—the American culture she experiences at school and the Indian culture that surrounds her at home—make her feel like she’s being pulled in opposite directions with more force than ever. But Reha adores her parents and doesn’t want to disappoint them. She studies hard and tries not to complain about feeling different. She intends to be a doctor when she grows up, even though she is afraid of blood.

When her mother, Amma, gets sick with leukemia, Reha begins to feel guilty about her secret desire to not be so different from her classmates. She bargains with God and tries to be perfect so that her mother will get better.

The poems in Red, White, and Whole are vibrant and lyrical, clear and smooth. In her first novel in verse, LaRocca (Midsummer’s Mayhem) showcases the best of what verse can do, telling a story that is spare, direct and true, every word and idea placed with intentional care. Reha’s narration shines with honest emotion, and its tenderness calls out to readers and invites them to feel what she feels at every turn.

LaRocca brilliantly incorporates references to 1980s American pop culture and traditional Indian culture. Despite how difficult it is for Reha to feel like she fully belongs anywhere, she is richer because of her access to multiple sources of wisdom and stronger because she has learned to navigate a variety of cultural norms. Reha’s friendship with Rachel, whose Jewish faith plays a similar role in her life, is a smart parallel.

Packed with evocative details of tween life in the ’80s, Red, White, and Whole is a sensitive coming-of-age story with all the makings of a new middle grade classic.

In the year 2091, millions of miles away from Earth, 11-year-old Bell and a handful of other kids are growing up on Mars. Sent there as orphaned infants, they have never known another life, another home or another family. Along with several adults, they make up the American settlement, where their days seem rather mundane, except for the fact that they live in outer space, complete with dust storms, flying meteorites, planetary rovers and algae-based food.

The settlement has very strict rules. Chief among them is, “No contact with foreign countries, ever.” Any contact with the Martian outposts from other countries is forbidden. But the red planet is a mysterious and desolate place, and, feeling isolated, the children are eager to explore. They’re never told why they can’t visit the other outposts, so they venture out and discover new challenges, but are soon discovered and reprimanded. Though they long to return to the other settlements for camaraderie, they are eventually forced to seek help when all the adults fall ill with a mysterious virus.

Holm peels back decades of secrets to expose previous relationships and disagreements between the Martian settlements while exploring the tension between independence and community. She returns often to the metaphor of a lion’s pride, which Bell discovers in a book early on in the story. In a dangerous environment, lions and perhaps humans, too, must provide and rely on communal support to survive.

Written before the COVID-19 pandemic, the isolated setting and threat of unknown illness sometimes cause The Lion of Mars to feel eerily contemporary and timely. Three-time Newbery Honor author Jennifer Holm is known for her stories of family and relationships, but this is her first venture into science fiction. Although she constructs a lived-in vision of life on a Martian outpost that will please sci-fi fans, the story she tells remains rooted in the outpost’s ad-hoc family and anchored by Bell’s down-to-Earth narrative voice.

The Lion of Mars looks past the red dust to reveal how our communities shape us just as much as our environments.

To kill the beloved protagonist of a previous book in the opening pages of a companion novel and make that death the new book’s premise would be the act of a truly brave, bold children’s author. Yet that’s exactly what Gary D. Schmidt does in Just Like That, but trust me, Schmidt knows exactly what he’s doing.

Set in 1968, Just Like That is part of an outstanding series that began with Newbery Honor recipient The Wednesday Wars and continued in Okay for Now, a finalist for the National Book Award. In structure, the books are reminiscent of Kate DiCamillo’s Raymie Nightingale trilogy. While each book can be read separately, overlapping characters and themes enrich each other in understated and often profound ways.

The series' well-deserved legions of fans will experience the gut punch of grief that engulfs Meryl Lee Kowalski, who loses her best friend and feels as though “everything in the world, absolutely everything in the world, has become a Blank.” Unable to face life at home in Hicksville, New York, she heads to the coast of Maine to begin eighth grade at a private boarding school, the prestigious St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy. In the meantime, a boy named Matt Coffin is alone and on the run from a violent past, reeling from the murder of his best friend. He slowly builds a friendship and then a budding romance with Meryl Lee, as both young teens wrestle with grief and try to find their place in the world.

Schmidt is a master at slowly creating wonderful relationships, often turning foes into friends in unexpected but believable ways. Meryl Lee initially feels lost among St. Elene’s grand, staid grounds and ultra-rich, snobby girls, but a group of students gradually allow their own strengths and friendships to emerge and blossom. St. Elene’s is run by a kind, wise leader, Dr. Nora MacKnockater, who takes both Meryl Lee and Matt under her wing.

Throughout all three books of these books, Schmidt reveals his genius for turning literary references into organic parts of his plots. In this case, Meryl Lee reads The Wizard of Oz as she and Matt try to find their way “home,” which isn’t easy since her parents are divorcing. Matt will remind readers of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist as he is pursued by a dangerous Fagin-like character named Leonidas Shug, an ongoing tension that builds to a dramatic conclusion. Schmidt incorporates current events into all three books, particularly the horrors of the Vietnam War, and Just Like That also features a hilarious and plot-pivotal appearance by none other than Spiro Agnew.

Just Like That takes place in Harpswell, Maine, where the writer Elizabeth Strout spent part of her childhood. Like Strout, Schmidt creates small worlds that contain the full piercing range of human nature and emotions, and he captures comedy and tragedy equally well. He writes gently but realistically about subjects including domestic violence, illness, death and grief, but his pages are also always filled with hope.

As Dr. MacKnockater tells Meryl Lee, “The world can be such an ugly place. It takes a special person, a truly accomplished person, to make it a beautiful place.” Just Like That is a riveting, award-worthy novel from a truly accomplished writer. Don’t miss it.