“I saw change coming and that’s always a worry,” Helena says at the start of Richard Peck’s Secrets at Sea. The Upstairs Cranstons are going to Europe in search of a husband for Olive, “pushing twenty-one without a man in sight.” If the Cranstons shutter the windows and shut up the house, life will change for Helena’s family, for they are mice, among the First Families on the Hudson River, having arrived ages before the Dutch or the English.

They were all family—the wealthy human Upstairs Cranstons and the mice Cranstons below—but with the usual inequities of wealth and social class. The mice knew all of the joys and sorrows of their counterparts, but the humans knew nothing of theirs, didn’t even know a word of their mouse language. Peck sets his tale on the eve of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee in 1897, masterfully delineating the domestic world of the Cranston families from Helena Cranston’s mouse-eye view, including her brothers and sisters—the skittering Louise, reckless Lamont, meek (even mousy, you might say) Beatrice and her own worrying self.

They are all off on an ocean voyage, along with the Upstairs Cranstons. The sea journey is deliciously related, full of funny scenes that beg to be read aloud, and readers will sense the fun Peck must have had in the writing. The Upstairs Cranstons are, of course, in the ship’s first-class section; Helena and her family are not. But, as Helena knows, it is the job of mice to keep the families together, so she overcomes her fear of water and does what must be done. What ensues are adventures galore—lifeboat drills, cat-and-mouse chases, the dispatching of an evil nanny, a hilarious princess’ reception and plenty of romance.

Ever versatile, Peck has fashioned a social comedy that is a pure delight.

It is 1952 and Janie Scott’s parents are blacklisted from their jobs as writers in Hollywood. They are lucky to find work in London, but Janie is resistant to leaving her warm California home. Moving to cold, rainy England in February and starting at a new school where she is expected to take Latin makes Janie extremely homesick. The one thing that helps her feel better is her budding friendship with the local apothecary’s son, Benjamin.

Janie is quickly drawn into a story of intrigue when Benjamin’s father is kidnapped by Soviet spies. The last thing they hear from Benjamin’s father is that they cannot trust the police, so the two teenagers set out to rescue him on their own. The apothecary has entrusted them with the Pharmocopoeia, an ancient book of medicines and magic, and with it and the help of some odd adult characters, they set out on their dangerous mission to rescue Benjamin’s father, and then the world, from nuclear devastation.

Though the book is a fantastical adventure story, author Maile Meloy—in her first work for young readers—weaves in the political intrigue that flavored the 1950s as well. Janie’s parents are suspected of being Communists, and while they neither confirm nor deny being so, they are clearly sympathetic to the ideal of Communism. The Soviets are not heroes, but neither are the Americans, as the Cold War builds and the arms race becomes the central focus of the world. The politics of the book may be lost on younger readers, but they will all grasp the potential destruction of nuclear weapons and the desire of the characters to thwart their development.

This well-paced fantasy is woven seamlessly with the reality of the times, making it all quite believable. We root for Janie and Benjamin as the suspense builds to a climactic ending that will excite readers old and young alike.

Jennifer Bruer Kitchel is the librarian for a pre-K through 8th grade Catholic school.

Mrs. Scullery, Mina McKee’s teacher at St. Bede’s Middle School, tells her students that writers never write anything until everything is planned out carefully. “What nonsense!” thinks Mina. “Why should a book tell a tale in a dull straight line?” Her own story, related in her journal, reflects the clutter and wonder of a mind trying to make sense of her loneliness after the death of her father, her treatment as a somewhat loony outsider at school, and her earnest hope for a friend or two, perhaps in the boy moving into Ernie Myers’ old house down the road. Her mind “is a clutter and a mess,” and the stories, reflections, questions, quotations, poems and creative writing activities are written in a variety of font sizes and shapes, adding visual appeal and making the novel look just like a young girl’s messy notebook full of tentative observations about her world.

In this prequel to his 1998 Carnegie Medal-winning novel Skellig, David Almond’s My Name Is Mina continues the themes and ideas of its predecessor and, indeed, of many of Almond’s novels: the mystery and beauty of the world, why Mina’s father died, the creation of creatures out of clay, the pitmen digging coal in the depths of the Earth, and the horror and wonder of the world. In fact, readers new to Almond’s work may be intrigued enough to go on to Skellig, Heaven Eyes, Kit’s Wilderness, Clay and The Fire-Eaters to discover the full range of his philosophical concerns. He is one writer who, in simple and poetic prose, manages to suffuse characters’ worlds with rich and perceptive insights into the human condition.

Mina’s world is a grand landscape of ordinary people, heroes and monsters, where Daedalus, the Minotaur, Persephone and Pluto, Orpheus and Icarus are as real as the old lady next door. Mina wishes she could journey to the Underworld like Orpheus and bring back her father, or make an owl-leap into the skies like Icarus and fly like the birds she observes from her perch in a tree. Mina lives an ordinary life, yet it’s the stuff of the gods.

Mina’s journey via her journal becomes the readers’ journey, leading them right to the beginning of Skellig, when Mina meets a boy named Michael.

Dean Schneider teaches seventh- and eighth-grade English at the Ensworth School in Nashville.

Kadir Nelson confesses in his author’s note to Heart and Soul: The Story of America and African Americans that history was never his favorite subject in school. Why, then, would he tackle a topic as vast as the history of African Americans? Because, he says, “the American story came alive to me” through his research, writing and painting—as it will for readers of this strikingly beautiful picture book that spans centuries of African-American life, from the days of slavery to the inauguration of President Barack Obama. 

Best known as an award-winning illustrator, Nelson proved his abundant skill as an author in his recent—and equally stunning—We are the Ship, illuminating the people and personalities of the Negro League. In Heart and Soul, Nelson further proves his exquisite talent at both writing and illustrating.

Atmospheric, penetrating full-page (and some double-page) paintings are billboard-like backdrops that powerfully reflect the text. The book is narrated colloquially in the first person by a grandmotherly figure who often addresses readers as “honey” or “chile” as she recounts the experiences of slavery (“like mother’s milk to a new country”), Reconstruction, Jim Crow laws, the advent of the Ku Klux Klan, the Civil Rights Movement and more watershed events in American history.

There is raw emotion in both the illustrations (the spread of an orating Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is especially powerful) and the words, rife with the reality of African Americans’ alternating pride, shame, anger and fear. One painting shows the steely resolve of two African Americans at a lunch counter sit-in in the South, with angry white customers pressing close behind them—the tension palpable on all the faces. The story of the African-American experience is hard to tell, and hard to read at times, but as the prologue notes, “You have to know where you come from so you can move forward.”

Nelson may say he never liked history much. But you’d never know it by all the heart and soul, and extremely diligent research and insight, he pours into this profound and important book—a definite Newbery and Sibert medal contender.

Sharon Verbeten is a children's librarian and freelance writer who lives in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

The euphemism “peculiar institution” seems particularly apt when considering Thomas Jefferson’s relationship to slavery. The great founding father who penned the words “all Men are created equal” owned more than 130 slaves when he died in 1826. However enlightened and “revolutionary” Jefferson may have been for a man of his times, he nonetheless engaged in the savage practice of buying and selling human beings throughout his life.

Kimberly Brubaker Bradley’s completely engrossing historical novel looks at the last 20 years of Thomas Jefferson’s life through the eyes of three of his slaves: Beverly and Madison Hemings, who were also his sons, and Peter Fossett. That Jefferson fathered Beverly, Harriet, Madison and Eston by their mother Sally Hemings, one of his slaves, was a secret everyone knew at Monticello. Jefferson may not have been the worst of slave owners, but he was capable of cruelties such as whipping runaways and breaking up families as slaves were sold off. These horrors were dispensed by overseers, but they were done at his behest.

Bradley brings her characters and setting vividly to life. There are many heartbreaking moments, such as Beverly’s mother scolding him for referring to Master Jefferson as “Papa.” Jefferson is appropriately portrayed as a deeply conflicted man who could shower his slave children with fatherly attention one moment and then treat them like pieces of furniture the next. Three-quarters of the way through the story, the point of view shifts from Beverly and Madison to Peter Fossett, another enslaved boy on the plantation but not one of Jefferson’s sons. Although initially jarring, the shift proves crucial for the heart-wrenching conclusion.

In an afterword, Bradley explains what later happened to each of the characters and which aspects of the story are historical and which are fictional. She also includes a bibliography of books and websites for further study. Jefferson’s Sons is a fascinating, disturbing portrait of an American family that reflects many of the bizarre paradoxes of our history. This story has been told before, but never has it been told so completely and so well for young readers.

Meg Wolitzer has written a string of smart, critically acclaimed novels for adults in the last decade. In her newest book, The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman, the main characters are middle schoolers (not moms). The action of the plot surrounds a national Scrabble tournament—and it’s a hilarious, heartwarming story of suspense, friendship and family dynamics.

Life could be better for Duncan Dorfman. He and his single mother have moved to Drilling Falls, Pennsylvania, where they live with Duncan’s great-aunt Djuna in a “squirrel-colored” house that smells like yams and beans. At Drilling Falls Middle School, Duncan’s classmates call him “Lunch Meat,” and his only friend is video game-obsessed Andrew Tanizaki. In a desperate moment, Duncan reveals that he has recently discovered an unusual talent: He can read with his fingers. This greatly interests Carl Slater, a competitive Scrabble player (and jerk) who aspires to go all the way at the national Youth Scrabble Tournament and take home the $10,000 prize. Carl recruits Duncan to be his partner, knowing that he can draw only the best tiles. What Carl doesn’t anticipate is that Duncan will fall in love with Scrabble—and find that cheating takes all the fun out of the game.

At the tournament in Yakamee, Florida, Duncan meets April Blunt and Nate Saviano, two players who have their own sets of problems. April is the lone word nerd in a family of jocks, and Nate’s dad was a runner-up at the Youth Scrabble Tournament years ago, and has forced his son to live out his dream. In between nail-biting Scrabble games, excursions to the creepy amusement park Funswamp and skateboarding mishaps, the group of players forms a tight-knit group. They realize how lucky they are to meet other kids obsessed with words. “When the weekend was over, they would return to the real world, where no one knew what bingo-bango-bongs were, and where vowel dumps sounded like something embarrassing that could happen to you on the toilet.”

Equally appealing for boys and girls, The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman captures the experience of not fitting in at school—and the pure joy of finally finding your niche. Without being preachy, Wolitzer fits in a lesson on ethics, as readers will consider whether it would be fair for Duncan to use his secret talent, even if he’d never get caught. Young Scrabble fans will delight in learning new tips, and readers who have not yet discovered the game will appreciate its puzzle-like aspect—and maybe be convinced that word games are cool and give Scrabble a try.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read a Q&A with Wolitzer for The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman.

The very word breadcrumbs conjures up images of a boy and a girl lost in a dark and mysterious landscape, trying to get back home to safety. In her luminous new novel, Breadcrumbs, Anne Ursu draws on the archetypal worlds of fairy tales such as Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Snow Queen,” yet also manages to create an original world of magic all her own.

The story opens with an evocative depiction of a snowstorm, and a premonition that the mundane world of school and winter sledding that Minnesota fifth graders Jack and Hazel think they know is not at all what it seems.

Best friends since the age of six, Jack and Hazel are in desperate need of some magic. Jack’s mom is suffering from depression. Hazel’s father has left, her mother is struggling financially and Hazel has had to leave her familiar private school and go to the public school. Hazel has gone from being called creative and imaginative to being a lonely girl who “needs to follow school rules.”

But there is one rule that Hazel believes in strongly: that best friends don’t suddenly desert you overnight of their own free will. Never. And so, when some horrible magic takes Jack away, Hazel must gather all her courage and her belief in friendship to set out after him into the cold, snowy woods.

Ursu has created a beautiful and compelling fairy tale that will appeal to young readers raised on magic. If you know any readers pining for something new now that the last Harry Potter film is out, have them follow the trail of magic in this marvelous book.

Patricia MacLachlan, Newbery Medalist for Sarah, Plain and Tall, delivers another heartfelt story of family and home in Waiting for the Magic. Just as William wonders who his fifth grade teacher will be when school starts, his professor father leaves home—again. In his absence, his mother decides that William and his little sister, Elinor, need a dog. Unable to decide which dog meets their needs, they return with four dogs of varying sizes and temperaments and a cat to boot.

The dogs’ arrival sparks some magic immediately when four-year-old Elinor and her grandparents start chatting with the canine newcomers. William, on the other hand, has never even thought about magic and certainly doesn’t believe in it. Although his grandmother suggests that he’s not young enough or old enough or brave enough to believe, he still resists the possibility that conversations are occurring between people and dogs.

William is quiet and steady, and when he discovers that his mother is expecting a baby, he musters the courage, with the help of his new dogs, to tell Mama that Papa should know about the situation. In light of his bravery, William begins to hear the dogs speak. But can he also find the courage to forgive when his father comes back? MacLachlan handles this scary and difficult parental separation with sensitivity, while Amy June Bates’ charming charcoal sketches and the dogs’ whimsical yet wise speech helps to lighten the mood.

Perhaps there’s more to magic than talking dogs, though. In distinct ways, the family members learn that real magic can be found at home among seemingly everyday events. Readers, who can’t help but be touched by this affirming story, will find themselves looking for magic in their own lives. MacLachlan has another classic in the making.

Liesl & Po begins very darkly. Liesl’s attic room is a “uniform gray darkness,” much like the world outside her window. In this bleak environment, she meets Po, a smudge of a ghost, three nights after her father dies. Po lives on the Other Side, a shadowy dimension of wild uncertainty.

The likable characters in this story all have some sadness and loss in their lives, while the villains are ugly and dark from a lack of inner light or feeling. Both types contribute to the somber mood in this lightless world. But small joys and flashes of warmth offer promise of what is to come.

Liesl and Po set out on a quest to restore Liesl’s father’s ashes to the home of her childhood. Along the way, author Lauren Oliver brilliantly weaves a cast of characters whose life stories begin to intersect in miraculous ways. Although the events feel a bit contrived at times, as the reader foresees the coming connections, these happy coincidences are not begrudged. Oliver is careful to make the entire construct feel like a fairy tale and young readers will be pleased by the way all the pieces come together.

In the passing of only a few days, we reach a conclusion that gives us the light we and Liesl and Po crave throughout the story. There is the redemption we hope for, the easing of sadness, and the delight in the hope newly found. This is a small story with big feeling, a quiet movement in a loud world, and a book definitely worth reading.

It was only a modest charm, a black heart with a hole right through it, shaped from flint during the Stone Age. But if the Flint Heart was black, so too became the heart of whoever possessed it. In the village of Grimspound, in the south of England, a warrior named Phuttphutt came into possession of the Flint Heart, and it turned him into an evil man. He killed Chief Brokotockotick, took over as the new chief and ruled with an iron fist, his long and bloody reign only ending with his death, when the creator of the Flint Heart buried it with Phuttphutt’s ashes under piles of rocks, where he hoped it would remain forever.

Thousands of years later, Billy Jago of Merripit Farm finds the Flint Heart, and the kind family man becomes rough and cruel. His children, Charles and Unity, seek help from the pixies. The marvelous world of the fairies comes alive for readers as fairies and humans work together to break the power of the Flint Heart and set the world right again.

In this fantasy “freely abridged” from the 1910 original by Eden Phillpotts, the prose by the husband-and-wife team of Katherine and John Paterson retains some of the Edwardian voice of the original and laces the story with understated humor. John Rocco’s digitally colored pencil drawings provide a perfect complement, glowing with fairy light. The full-page art, chapter headings and decorations make this a lovely volume, reminiscent of the Robert Louis Stevenson classics illustrated by N.C. Wyeth.

The Patersons have given new life to Phillpotts’ original, retaining and enhancing the magical wonder of a tale that ought to endure as a classic. This beautifully made book exemplifies, as John Rocco said in a recent interview, “the importance of the physical book for children in this ever-growing digital age.”

British author Frank Cottrell Boyce is probably best known for his book Millions, the story of two brothers who find a bag of money by the side of the railroad tracks. The story was later made into a movie directed by Danny Boyle. Boyce is himself a screenwriter (his films include Welcome to Sarajevo). And while his latest work for children, The Unforgotten Coat, is fiction, it includes photographs of real people which make it feel almost like a film or documentary story itself.

The story begins with a photograph taken during Julie’s Year Six class. As it happens, she is finding this photo and others years later, in the pocket of an unusual coat left behind at her old school. Through Julie’s memories, we learn that the photographer was a Mongolian boy named Chingis, who appeared suddenly in school one day along with his little brother, Nergui.

Chingis, a very self-possessed kid, immediately appoints Julie to be their “Good Guide.” He tells her, “ ‘In Mongolia we are nomads. When we come to a new country, we need to find a Good Guide. You will be our Good Guide in this place. Agree?’ “

Julie is thrilled: “ ‘Of course I agreed. No one had ever asked me to be anything before, definitely not anything involving a title.’ “

Julie takes her responsibility seriously. She does research on Mongolia and tries to get to know the new boys as best she can. But Julie soon finds that being a Good Guide to Chingis and Nergui is more difficult than she could have imagined.

Their lives seem to be surrounded in mystery. They walk home a different way each day. She can’t help but realize that the boys—and their parents—are afraid of something. Is it, as Chingis tells her, that Nergui believes he is being chased by a demon? Or is there something else troubling them—something beyond Julie’s ability to understand or fix?

This is a funny, sad and heartwarming story of the ways in which children come together and make their own communities. As Boyce notes in the afterword, The Unforgotten Coat was inspired by the story of a young Mongolian refugee named Misheel, whom he met during his very first author visit, to the Joan of Arc Primary school in Bootle, near Liverpool. And while the photograph in the book of a grown-up Chingis and Nergui isn’t real, you can almost believe it is.

“Everyone knows that Alberto Santos-Dumont invented the airplane,” right? Even if you’ve never heard of Santos-Dumont, you’ll be delighted to meet this real-life historical figure in Victoria Griffith’s vivid debut picture book.

Alberto was a Brazilian in Paris who had a 35-foot dirigible of his own design as his personal mode of transportation. He’d fly his airship over the streets of Paris, landing to run errands, stopping at Maxim’s restaurant for coffee or dropping by the hat shop to replace the hat burned up by the airship’s hydrogen gas. Alberto told the shop owner, “I tell you, these machines will mean the end of all wars.” He felt that flying to different countries would open eyes and minds to how people all over the world have much in common. In fact, as Griffith writes in her fascinating author’s note, Alberto became distraught over the use of airplanes in warfare, so much so that, further saddened by his fall from favor, he took his own life in 1932.

But Alberto wanted to do more than fly his dirigible through the skies of Paris, though he is the only one known ever to do so. In 1906, he flew an airplane of his own design for 20 seconds, the first pilot to take off and land a self-propelled craft. The Wright brothers had flown in Kitty Hawk in 1903, but their plane required high winds and a rail system to propel the plane. Clearly, it’s a matter of debate as to what constitutes a true airplane, as the Wright brothers have gone down in history, and Alberto Santos-Dumont is largely unknown.

But now this fine picture book resurrects his story in lively prose and large-scale illustrations rendered in pastels, chalks, oil pastels and oil paint, perfectly capturing the drama of the events. The fuzzy lines lend a feeling of history to the illustrations, and gestures and humorous touches, such as a dog holding the dirigible’s tether or Alberto racing horse-drawn carriages, make Alberto Santos-Dumont and his times come alive.

The Fabulous Flying Machines of Alberto Santos-Dumont is a lovely work for young readers who will soon spread their wings, too.

Newbery Medal winner Avi has had a steady, prolific career. He is a master at bringing the people, places and perils of 19th-century society to life through his impeccably researched works of historical fiction, including the Newbery Honor-winning The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle. His latest, City of Orphans, is another such success, particularly due to his incomparable ability to absorb the sights, sounds and smells of a distant time and place: this time, New York City in 1893.

The novel opens with 13-year-old newsboy Maks Geless struggling to hawk The World amid the sordid streets of the Lower East Side. It’s all he can do to make eight cents a day—a pittance desperately needed by his family of poor Danish immigrants. But to do so, he must successfully avoid the Plug Ugly Gang, led by the notorious Bruno, which regularly shakes down the “newsies” to pay off a blackmailing businessman.

With luck and happenstance, Maks meets stick-wielding Willa, a tough, homeless abandoned girl who comes to his rescue. The two form a familial bond and take on their next challenge: getting Maks’ sister, Emma, out of jail for a theft she didn’t commit. But time is running out all over—for Emma; for Maks’ other sister, Agnes (suffering from tuberculosis); and for his father (who is facing unemployment).

Maks and Willa turn amateur detectives to take on the world that has wronged them both. In the process, they both discover the strength of family ties amid a threatening, yet realistic, backdrop of crime, poverty and life on the streets. Avi taps into the jargon of the era and paints tenement life so vividly, readers will actually smell the wet smoke and see the cobblestones glisten with rain and light. The poverty of Maks’ family is palpable, yet so, too, is the love. And Greg Ruth’s black and white sketches are perfectly nuanced snapshots of the main characters’ personalities.

As Avi mentions in his historical notes, Maks and Willa are not unlike other children of the day. Their plights are their own, but the duo serve as realistic representatives of another day, far grittier than our own.