Following her award-winning debut novel, Root Magic, Eden Royce returns with another magical, atmospheric South Carolina-set story that explores Gullah culture. While her first book focused on a twin brother and sister learning rootwork from their uncle in the 1960s, Conjure Island centers on 11-year-old Del Baker, a strong-minded girl who feels lost when her caretaker grandmother is hospitalized. Del and Gramma are frequently on the move—this time, from Massachusetts to Delaware—and all the changes have taken their toll. Even before Gramma became ill, Del felt “disconnected from everything around her, like she was drifting in an ocean without any land in sight.”

Del knows next to nothing about her mom, who died in childbirth, and her father is deployed abroad in the Air Force. So when Gramma is hospitalized, Del is sent to spend a month on an island off the coast of South Carolina with her great-grandmother, Nana Rose, whom Del has never heard of before. Nana Rose is the head of the Vesey Conservatory for the Wonder Arts, “the only school left in South Carolina teaching the traditional ways of Southern conjure.” As Nana Rose explains, “Our people have been practicing it in this part of the world for over four hundred years.”

Gobsmacked by her family’s magical connections, Del suddenly finds herself immersed in a Harry Potter-esque world where each student is assigned a magical broom, teachers called “sorcells” give conjuring lessons, spirits roam the halls and a talking alligator helps with transportation. Luckily, Del finds a kindred spirit in her roommate, Eva, and the two explore the challenges of new situations and what it means to be a friend. 

The parallels to Harry Potter are never overdone, as Royce does an excellent job of painting a a unique picture of her own lively South Carolina coastal world. There is plenty of action (quicksand, a near-drowning and more) as Del explores the island, trying to wipe away cobwebs from family secrets that Gramma and Nana Rose refuse to discuss. Why did Gramma leave her island home, never to return? Why did she refuse to continue conjuring, which she was quite skilled at as a girl? Everyone, it seems, has secrets; even Del keeps “her questions about her mom buried deep down in her own sort of box.” 

The magic and mystery make this book particularly alluring, and Royce builds her world with finesse, showing how conjuring “connects people, builds community, and strengthens bonds.” She emphasizes the importance of understanding history and our family roots, as well as building meaningful friendships and communities. “The South really is a portal,” she writes. 

Conjure Island takes readers on an exciting getaway and offers a sense of reassurance to anyone feeling lost, left out, lonely or simply in search of some magical fun.

On her 13th birthday, Pandita Paul escapes to her own secret garden—the Johnson property, an abandoned orchard and house where she and her now-deceased mother used to sneak away for quiet moments. In this haven just across the street from her home in Silicon Valley, Pandita keeps her most precious possessions: notes from her mother and a childhood photo of her mom, whom Pandita worries she’s beginning to forget. 

That same night, during her family birthday celebration, Pandita hears that the property she adores is slated for development. This intensely personal and political conflict propels Hope in the Valley, an extraordinary middle grade novel from Mitali Perkins, who has previously published picture books (Between Us and Abuela) and young adult novels (You Bring the Distant Near).

Before Pandita knows it, her hidden treasures have been removed and the building demolished. Devastated, Pandita joins a historical preservation group trying to block the development. Meanwhile, one of her older sisters is working with a nonprofit group hoping to provide affordable rental units on the prized parcel of land. 

As Pandita begins to learn more about the property’s history, she becomes fascinated with its long-deceased, widowed owner, Lydia Johnson, who stood up for the rights of Japanese American and Mexican American families, protecting their farms during World War II incarceration and disruption. As Pandita begins to understand the history of “Keep California White” campaigns, she reexamines her stance on what should happen to the orchard property.

If all of this sounds complicated or heavy, never fear: Perkins is an expert at weaving together a multitude of plotlines in a seamlessly thought-provoking, entertaining way. She addresses grief, fear of change, xenophobia, segregation and the power of friendships while reckoning with history and the legacies of injustice. Despite this boatload of serious subjects, the prose feels organic, portraying authentic dynamics in this extended Bengali family, which includes grandparents back in India, Pandita’s lively twin sisters, their grieving father and his new love interest. Each plot thread gets its fair due, and only a writer as talented as Perkins could turn a zoning board meeting into a pivotal, dramatic moment. 

In addition to the many ways that history repeats itself, the novel also explores the power of the arts, bolstered by meaningful references to Emily Dickinson and a variety of children’s books, old and new. Against her will, Pandita is forced to attend a summer musical drama camp, where she meets a new friend (and crush)—a Filipino American boy named Leo. She also has a role in a production of The Sound of Music, in which she discovers “the magic of theater, inviting an audience to travel with actors across boundaries of time and culture into the heart of a story”—which is just what Perkins accomplishes in these pages.

Although she hates public speaking, Pandita is named after renowned Indian speaker and social reformer Pandita Ramabai. Like her namesake, Pandita gradually finds her voice, learning to move forward while honoring the past. Many books advocate for listening carefully to people of opposing views while following one’s own beliefs, but few do it better than Perkins’ exceptional Hope in the Valley.

Frankie Bryant just wants to figure out what to wear for their band concert. Neither a suit nor a dress feels quite right to the nonbinary middle schooler. They’ve been through a lot since coming out, including being abandoned by their best friend, Dallas, who makes a show of using the right pronouns in front of adults but snickers about Frankie behind their back. Otherwise, Frankie’s life is fairly normal . . . until they save a golden retriever from bullies and are transported to a giant magical doghouse, where they are given a funny-looking helmet that allows them to talk to a group of superhero dogs called the Pawtheon.

In The Dog Knight, Frankie must prove that they possess the dog virtues—loyalty, kindness, honesty, justice, stubbornness and smell—over the course of six trials. Then they will be named the titular Dog Knight and assume a legendary role alongside the Pawtheon to protect the world from agents of chaos. The golden retriever, Platinum, believes Frankie can do it—but can they believe in themself?

Author Jeremy Whitley (creator of the Glyph Award-winning Princeless series) crafts a heartwarming and funny tale about being true to yourself and fighting for what’s right. His world building is adorable, thoughtful and highly entertaining, including the lore of how humans and dogs came to have a pact. The redemption of Frankie’s ex-best friend is messy and lengthy, and therefore realistic. The story arc wraps up nicely but has enough loose ends to leave readers wanting more from the planned series.

Illustrations by Bre Indigo (Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy: A Modern Graphic Retelling of Little Women) absolutely shine. Both humans and dogs have diverse character designs and dynamic expressions that will be sure to satiate hungry Raina Telgemeier fans. Their use of sound effects alternates between helpful onomatopoeias (such as Frankie’s drums making “tk tk tk tk” sounds) and humorous action indicators (such as the words “pet pet” appearing when Frankie pets one of the super pups). Colors by Melissa Capriglione (Basil and Oregano) are vibrant, with backgrounds that shift colors with characters’ moods and gutters that add to the tone—black during eerie night scenes and bright blue during an ethereal dog lore flashback, for example.

While this isn’t necessarily a story about being nonbinary, Frankie’s gender identity is essential to the narrative; for example, being truthful about how much Dallas hurt them passes the honesty trial, and finding the perfect outfit clears the smell trial. Too few children’s books feature genderqueer protagonists, and fewer still feature nonbinary protagonists in the type of heroic roles that their cisgender peers have played for decades. The Dog Knight is an excellent addition to a necessary and growing canon and will fit in nicely among Molly Knox Ostertag’s The Witch Boy series or ND Stevenson’s Lumberjanes series.

“It’s a tough world, Beal.” That’s the advice that seventh grader Hercules Beal receives from his new homeroom teacher, retired U.S. Marine Lieutenant Colonel Hupfer. The world’s been especially tough on Hercules, whose parents were killed when a pickup truck slammed into their vehicle. Understandably, he’s not happy about much, including the fact that he has to go to a new school, Cape Cod Academy for Environmental Sciences. Newbery Honor winner Gary D. Schmidt knows how to write about devastating situations, and just as The Wednesday Wars did, The Labors of Hercules Beal (Clarion, $19.99, 9780358659631) digs deep.

Narrator Hercules is hardly one to wallow in his sorrows. Despite the tragedy he’s faced, he hasn’t lost his sense of humor nor his sense of wonder, always heading out first thing in the morning with his cat and dog to watch the sunrise over the Truro Dunes, which is his time to say good morning to his parents. After their death, his adult brother, Achilles, returned home to take care of him and run the family business, Beal Brothers Farm and Nursery.

Schmidt has created numerous caring adult teachers in his novels—a fact no doubt influenced by the fact that Schmidt is himself a college English professor. The Labors of Hercules Beal is no exception. At the beginning of the school year, Lt. Col. Hupfer assigns each of his seventh graders their own “Classical Mythology Application Project” to “learn something about yourselves through studying classical myths.” Hercules’ assignment is to consider how each of his namesake demigod’s 12 fabled labors might be performed today.

This daunting assignment provides an intriguing theme, as well as a great way to connect young readers to mythology. Schmidt makes great use of the Maine setting, and the Beal Brothers Farm and Nursery is rife with intriguing dilemmas. Hercules’ reflection essays and Hupfer’s responses are entertaining and informative as well; Hupfer is a kind, sensitive but tough grader, making comments such as, “Your grade might have been significantly higher had you not chosen to use tricks that have been obvious to any teacher born since 1702.”

Few writers have the ability to sink a middle grade character so deeply into the abyss and then bring them back again. As Hercules Beal concludes, “By the end of his Labors, Hercules understood that he had been to hell, and come back. That meant a lot—that he had come back. Now he had a lot more living to do—and he was grateful beyond anything for that.” The Labors of Hercules Beal is an exceptionally honest and empowering book, offering multitudes of hope, kindness and unforgettable adventures.

Fantasy author P. Djèlí Clark’s first middle grade novel tells the story of a girl named Abeni in three clear acts: a discovery, a journey and a confrontation. It all begins on the day of the Harvest Festival, when Abeni’s village is attacked. A mysterious army razes the village and captures all of the villagers, while a strange man wearing a mask with goat horns plays a flute melody that enchants the children into following him. These terrifying forces serve the Witch Priest, who has started a war so that he may rule over all the lands.

Abeni alone is saved by a very old witch named Asha, who has watched over the village for many generations, although no one heeded her warnings of danger. Asha takes Abeni to live in her magical hut that’s larger on the inside than the outside, and Asha begins to discover new truths about the world and herself. She even learns little bits of magic and how to wield a staff.

Between facing the loss of her family and discovering a world of magic and mystery previously unknown to her, Abeni also takes on new responsibilities when Asha is struck down by a shadow being—another one of the Witch Priest’s servants—and reborn as a young girl. It turns out that Asha is not a witch but an ancient spirit who serves as a protector of the land and its people. Now she must grow into her power again.

Asha’s transformation reverses the two characters’ roles. Overwhelmed by both the duty of protecting Asha and a desire to find her people, Abeni sets off to find Asha’s sister. Abeni hopes to pawn off Asha once the sister is found and then chase down her family and rescue them from the forces of the Witch Priest. She soon discovers that fate has a different plan in store.

There are few surprises in the plot, but readers might find themselves sniffling—or outright turning on the waterworks—at several moments when these adolescent characters team up and grow to truly care for each other. Rooting for Abeni and Asha comes naturally, and Abeni is particularly charming. She cannot help her curiosity and speaks rashly, but she is also open to learning about herself and the reality in which she lives. With the help of spirits and friends she meets along the way, Abeni builds the skills, courage and wisdom to face her evil adversary: the part-goat, part-man kidnapper of children.

As with most of the books Clark has written, Abeni’s Song does a fantastic job building a world full of deep lore. Readers are clearly being set up for a series, so not all mysteries are solved nor everyone saved, but the nature of spirits and magic, and the secrets of allies and enemies all plant a firm vision for a future installment.

When Hungry Ghost Month arrives, the veil to the underworld lifts to allow bug-eyed, starving ghosts into the world of the living, where they feast on food left out by thoughtful mortals . . . and hunt for the delicious souls of the newly deceased. July Chen’s dad insists these ghosts aren’t real, so she ignores them—even though she alone can see them.

Other than her dad, no one that July meets ever seems to remember her, so she slips through life unnoticed—until she runs into the wandering soul of the wandering soul of William, a still-­living boy. William has experienced countless near-death experiences since birth, and the latest freak accident has landed him in a coma. July promises to help William return to his body, but soon starving spirits descend upon them and William’s tether to the real world begins to fray, forcing July to look at the truth of her own life: why people forget her, why she possesses special yin-yang eyes that allow her to see ghosts and how far she is willing to go to rescue her new friend.

Author-illustrator Remy Lai, known for her award-­winning graphic novels Pie in the Sky and Pawcasso, brings her trademark colorful style to a darker yet equally charming palette in her new folkloric contemporary fantasy, Ghost Book. Not a single panel is wasted, and readers who pay close attention to the art will be deeply rewarded by neatly placed clues that foreshadow the story’s final twists.

Lai explores grief and other hard topics with a careful hand, avoiding a descent into overwhelming sadness. Serious topics—the loss of a parent, the fear of dying and the pain of betrayal—are juxtaposed neatly with the presence of an adorable ghost named Floof and jokes about how passionately ghosts love dumplings. Prevailing above all is the power of friendship, and July’s and William’s attempts to save each other’s lives will thrill readers.

Lai limits her human cast to a handful of characters, but the myriad spirits she pulls from Chinese mythology will inspire readers to learn more about the real Hungry Ghost Festival. Kids who like to mimic the art styles of graphic novels will be equally inspired by both the hungry ghosts, drawn in detail with gaunt faces and hideous boils, and the simpler forms of Floof and the friendlier background ghosts. For kids who eat up graphic novels like Anya’s Ghost by Vera Brosgol, Pilu of the Woods by Mai K. Nguyen and Ghosts by Raina Telgemeier, Ghost Book will make a perfect addition to their shelves.

Since long before 12-year-old Erie was born, lockwood trees have been planted to protect towns from terrible wildfires known as the Arborklept. Designed by the inventor Dr. Lunata Elemnieri, the lockwood keeps everything out—the fires, the smoke and the winds. But the lockwood in Erie’s hometown of Prine was the first of its kind. Planted improperly close to the town’s center, this lockwood also keeps out sunlight. 

Day in and day out, the whole town of Prine nearly suffocates in darkness, so children who are large enough to climb yet small enough to fit through the vines of the lockwood must cut it back each morning. Erie is one of these children. She spent years learning from her older sister how to safely climb, fall and wield a FOLROY hatchet. It’d be daunting work for anyone, but it’s especially difficult to send children into such dangerous conditions, so the townsfolk only receives a few hours of sunlight each day. 

But that’s the way it goes. If you don’t like it, you can endure the long process to get papers permitting a move to the city of Petrichor. 

Olivia A. Cole’s middle grade novel puts the reader in the passenger seat alongside Erie as she navigates the challenges of being the youngest child in a family that has long kept secrets while coping with climate tragedies. After making a startling discovery one night in the lockwood, Erie goes on an adventure to uncover all of her world’s mysteries. Where the Lockwood Grows creates a beautiful mix of hope and honesty about impending climate disasters and the drive of younger, wiser generations to imagine a better world for us all. 

In her debut middle grade novel, Nasuġraq Rainey Hopson crafts an exquisitely immersive tale describing the mythical origins of the Iñupiaq Messenger Feast and how the Iñupiaq people acquired song and dance.

A boy named Pinja is sent on a mountain journey by his family to get obsidian for their toolmaking. His mother can’t help but worry; it’s the same mountain where his two older brothers disappeared. Nonetheless, it’s a vital task, because this small family lives off the land and never takes more than what’s necessary, surviving “thanks to the animals and their kindness and generosity—and a heavy dose of luck.” They rarely see others and are extremely cautious the few times they do.

When Pinja reaches the mountain, he is immediately confronted by an immense eagle god named Savik, who snatches him and takes him far away to Savik’s eagle god family. Pinja remains prisoner for 14 moons, learning many difficult lessons from the eagle gods, including how to dance, sing, drum, build a large gathering hall and become a leader.

Pinja is thoughtful, intelligent and determined, and his intense yearning to return home drives him to study and learn from everything he encounters—even a cute lemming teaches Pinja to see the power of combining strength with others. Gradually, Pinja realizes an important new concept, one foreign to his family: “Why would you do things alone when you can accomplish so much together?”

Rainey’s writing is taut and finely chiseled, as in this description of the endless ennui of Pinja’s imprisonment: “The days cut at him like obsidian against grass with their slow emptiness.” Her fine-toned illustrations showcase the beauty of the Alaskan landscape and its people, while her knowledgeable, passionate descriptions of survival in a harsh environment integrate well into the ongoing action. Rainey herself lives with her family in a remote Alaska Native village in the Brooks Range, where they follow a predominantly subsistence life and try to preserve traditional Iñupiaq values and knowledge.

Eagle Drums marks the impressive debut of a gifted writer. Rainey gives readers an engrossing, exciting look into Iñupiaq culture while offering invaluable lessons about the power of community, kinship and celebrations.

There is no library in the small town of Martinville. Twenty years ago, it burned to the ground, and nothing was ever built in its place. But one day in the waning months of spring, a little free library appears overnight in front of the town’s History House, guarded by a large, purring, orange sentinel named Mortimer.

Fifth grader Evan is one of the first to discover the new library and take some books. He also seems to be the only one to notice that most of the books are from the old Martinville library, where they were all returned on November 5, 1999—the same day the library burned down. Not only that, but the famous mystery writer H.G. Higgins appears to have been the last person to check some of them out.

As the little free library grows, so does Evan’s list of questions. Why did the old library burn down? Why didn’t they build a new one? Did H.G. Higgins live in Martinville? Did he set the fire? With the help of his best friend, Rafe, Evan investigates the expanding number of clues. But Martinville isn’t ready to give up such big secrets so quickly.

Written by two powerhouses of children’s literature, Rebecca Stead and Wendy Mass, The Lost Library is a charming love letter to libraries, stories and life’s little mysteries, told through the alternating perspectives of Mortimer the cat, Evan and ghostly librarian Al. Stead and Mass provide all the tools required to solve the book’s multilayered mysteries—but rather than make the reveals too obvious, they create an alluring trail of breadcrumbs, inviting readers to leap to each discovery by themselves.

The story is relatively small in scope but speaks to the wider importance of connection. Throughout the novel, characters shine through their relationships with others, and the overarching lesson is clear: People need each other, and this is a good thing.

Though readers might expect something on a slightly grander scale from the combined powers of Stead and Mass, The Lost Library’s whimsical simplicity is a delight. It is subtly magical, sweetly optimistic and above all, kind. The Lost Library reminds us that each book contains an entire universe, and the next one you step inside of could be the one that changes everything. The next time one of its readers walks past a little free library, they might just stop to look inside.

Award-winning author Grace Lin leads readers on a fascinating, mouthwatering tour of American Chinese food in Chinese Menu: The History, Myths, and Legends Behind Your Favorite Foods. Her enthusiastic, attention-grabbing narration often makes readers feel as though she’s addressing them directly.

Lin describes American Chinese dishes—which have been adapted and changed from those found in China—as “the flavor of resilience, the flavor of adaptability, the flavor of persistence and triumph. Above anything, this food is the flavor of America.” Chinese Menu is jampacked with chapters that are organized according to course, including tea, appetizers, soup and chef’s specials. Foods like Bird’s Nest Soup, General Tso’s Chicken (he was a real general during the 1850 Taiping Rebellion) and Chop Suey make an appearance. There’s history, too: Lin explains that the fork may have been invented in China, but that as chopsticks evolved from long bronze cooking tools to their wooden form, Confucius advised people to use them to eat instead, believing that knives and forks resembled weapons and brought disharmony to meals. Adding to the offerings are numerous color illustrations, diagrams, a map of China, informative endnotes, an extensive bibliography and an illustrated timeline showing when various dishes emerged. There’s also a recipe for Lin’s mother’s scallion pancakes.

Read our interview with Grace Lin: “What’s more tangible and easier to understand than the food that we eat?”

Though all of the above is compelling, what makes this book shine are the numerous retellings of food-related myths and folktales, many of which Lin first heard as a child at the dinner table. A story about the origin of Dragon Well Tea involves a dragon, a poor old woman and a mysterious stranger who knocks on her door. Dumplings are said to have been invented during the Eastern Han Dynasty (24–220), when a doctor named Zhang Zhongjing found an innovative way to treat villagers’ frostbitten ears during the Lunar New Year. Some tales are not for the faint of heart and involve subjects like death and poverty, but throughout, Lin’s sensitive narration remains mindful of her young audience.

Lin’s illustrations are further icing on the cake—starting with the book’s ornate cover showing a young girl holding out a steaming bowl of soup, inside of which readers see the faint suggestion of a bridge and a building, hinting at the tales waiting inside.

Chinese Menu is a treat in every way: an exceptional compilation that can be read all at once or taken out from time to time as a reference while eating certain dishes—a family ritual that all ages will enjoy. Either way, it’s scrumptious!