Remember Us packs an understated but powerful punch. National Book Award winner Jacqueline Woodson’s lyrical coming-of-age novel is set in Brooklyn, New York, during the 1970s, when people called Bushwick “the Matchbox” because so many houses and buildings were burning down—some purposely set on fire by their own landlords in hopes of collecting insurance money. Although Remember Us is fiction, Woodson notes in an afterword that the novel is inspired by her own childhood: “We knew people who had lost their homes to fire, and my family worried about our own house going up in flames.”
For 12-year-old narrator Sage, who dreams of becoming the first woman player in the NBA, seventh grade is “the year when, one by one, the buildings on Palmetto melted into a mass of rock and ash and crumbled plaster.” It’s also the year that she befriends Freddy, who shares her love of basketball.
Sage’s deep sense of nostalgia intertwines with a palpable fear of those fires, which act as a metaphor for Sage’s recognition that her body and her world are changing: The present is constantly turning into the “once was.” Sage and her mother live in the boyhood home of Sage’s late father, who belonged to the Vulcan Society (a fraternity of Black firemen) and died in a fire. Although Sage hardly remembers him, she cherishes using his basketball. “He, too, was a part of the once was,” she muses. “And soon I’d be part of the once was of Bushwick, of my block, of the park and the hundreds of basketball games I’d played there.”
Remember Us has the feel of a new classic, ageless in its universal themes while wonderfully rendering a specific time and place. The pure magic of this novel is that Woodson somehow makes readers feel as though they are experiencing these moments of growing up along with Sage. Woodson flawlessly intersperses explosive moments—and games of basketball—among quiet, reflective scenes while responding to Sage’s weighty fears with reassurance about the permeance of loving memories.
Jacqueline Woodson flawlessly intersperses explosive moments—and games of basketball—among quiet, reflective scenes while responding to her protagonist’s weighty fears with reassurance about the permeance of loving memories.
A new book from Kate DiCamillo always gives reason to celebrate, and her latest fairy tale is no exception. The Puppets of Spelhorst is the first of a trio of novellas called the Norendy Tales. Linked together by a common atmosphere and setting, each book is to be illustrated in black and white by a different artist. (DiCamillo first ventured into the atmosphere of this series with a bonus fairy tale called “The Tapestry at Norendy” included in the 20th anniversary edition of The Tale of Despereaux.)
The Puppets of Spelhorst salutes the power of storytelling through a tale of five puppets—a king, a wolf, an owl, a boy and a girl—who are passed from person to person, before finally coming to life in a play through the hands of two young girls and a maid. The book opens with a lonely old sea captain named Spelhorst buying a box of puppets because the girl puppet reminds him of his long-lost love, Annalise. As the puppets wait “to be part of a story,” their distinct personalities and desires emerge, accompanied by DiCamillo’s trademark dashes of humor. For instance, the wolf puppet is obsessed with his sharp teeth, while the owl puppet says wise things and dreams of flying. But as the girl puppet tells everyone, “We are all here in the dark together. How will it help us to fight with one another?”
The Puppets of Spelhorst’s short chapters of simple yet often profound prose beg to be read aloud. This exciting, fast-paced story contains several pointed touches of female empowerment as well as a glorious surprise ending that is revealed in a full-page spread. Julie Morstad’s illustrations do an excellent job of setting an old-fashioned, fairy-tale mood while achieving a delicate feat: making these puppets look both inanimate yet lively. Morstad’s art contributes to both this tale’s momentum and meaning—such as when the wolf puppet is carried away by a fox, or when Spelhorst gazes regretfully at the girl puppet.
As the girl puppet concludes, “Stories without end—watching them unfold, being a part of their unfolding—what a blessing that would be.” Such a sentiment might be applied to the experience of reading DiCamillo’s books. With all the makings of a classic fairy tale, The Puppets of Spelhorst skillfully addresses many of DiCamillo’s favorite themes: the power of love and togetherness; the many unexpected wonders of the world; the importance of following one’s dreams; and the majesty of stories and storytelling.
With all the makings of a classic fairy tale, The Puppets of Spelhorst skillfully salutes the power of storytelling through a tale of five puppets.
English author Lucy Strange (The Secret of Nightingale Wood) transports readers to a thrilling and mysterious world in Sisters of the Lost Marsh, a gothic fairy tale fueled by female empowerment.
Twelve-year-old Willa and her five sisters barely scrape by on their farm at the edge of a marsh with their mean-spirited father. Everyone assumes that the sisters are doomed because of a folk rhyme called “The Curse of the Six Daughters,” which purports to predict the fate of any family with six daughters. Despite such dismal conditions, Willa and her sisters find small joys with help from their Grammy, who taught them to read the books hidden away in her secret cupboard, many of which she and the girls’ late mother wrote, even though reading and writing are strictly forbidden for women in their village.
The delicate balance of the sisters’ existence crumples, however, when their father trades his oldest daughter, Grace, to an older man, Silas Kirby, in exchange for a horse. Silas intends to marry Grace, but before the deal can be finalized, Grace disappears.
Willa often feels “like the ugly duckling,” caught between her “taller, fairer” older sisters and her younger sisters, who are triplets. But Willa was named for her strong will, so she steals her father’s fine new steed and sets off across the marsh to find Grace. The marsh is full of mesmerizing magic and atmospheric suspense, and readers will be swept along on Willa’s epic adventure, made all the more urgent when she discovers that her father and Silas are in hot pursuit and that Grace may have fallen prey to a mythical figure from their mother’s stories.
Strange is a gifted storyteller who masterfully balances good and evil, dreariness and hope. She incorporates a few perfectly timed doses of horror that will entertain middle grade readers without overwhelming them. Honest and riveting, Sisters of the Lost Marsh is a tale of girls boldly taking charge of their own fates, flying fearlessly in the face of a community trying to scare them into submission and ignorance. These six sisters, “side by side like a row of paper dolls,” turn out to be as strong as steel.
When her sister disappears, Willa sets off on an epic quest in this gothic tale filled with mesmerizing magic and atmospheric suspense.
Last year, Rachel Riley was the most popular girl at East Middle School in Madison, Wisconsin. This year, she’s persona non grata with the entire eighth grade class—except for Anna Hunt.
Anna, the new kid in town, is an aspiring journalist who loves listening to podcasts, reading and emailing her grandmother, Babcia, who lives in Poland. Anna dreams of being accepted to the summer podcasting camp at Northwestern University, but she needs to create an outstanding podcasting sample for her application. In the meantime, she’s also trying her best to make friends at her new school.
When Anna’s Social Issues teacher assigns a semester-long “un-essay” project about any social question of personal interest, Anna decides that investigating Rachel’s precipitous fall from grace is the perfect way to achieve all her goals. She’ll interview Rachel and their classmates about what happened and get to know people along the way. Sure, she might ruffle some feathers, but that’s part of being a journalist.
Text messages, passed notes, emails, flyers and interview transcripts enable readers to join Anna as she gains insight into East Middle School, deftly illustrating how even casual conversations can layer upon one another and grow into a rising tide of peer pressure. When Anna realizes that Rachel’s ostracization is tied to a sexual harassment “game” that the boys have been playing at the girls’ expense, she’s understandably uncertain about what to do next. Through Rachel’s experiences, Anna has seen how dangerous it can be to reveal secrets, to make a fuss and stand out from the crowd. But could it be worth doing anyway, if it leads to real change?
Claire Swinarski has created a strikingly realistic depiction of what it’s like to navigate the minefields of middle school while trying to figure out what you stand for—and what you’re willing to stand up for. What Happened to Rachel Riley? is both timely and, unfortunately, timeless in its depiction of systemic sexual harassment and and frustratingly inappropriate reactions from authority figures and peers. This compelling novel urges readers to consider what they might do in similar situations and reminds them that “sometimes, fairness has to be demanded instead of waited for.”
In this strikingly realistic and partially epistolary novel, Anna must navigate the minefield of middle school while trying to figure out what she stands for—and what she’s willing to stand up for.
When Henrietta Weldon’s parents decide that she should switch from private to public school for seventh grade, Henri is excited—and determined to hide her nerves. Between her messy bedroom and her struggles with math, Henri’s family of competitive overachievers treat her like “a problem to be solved.” Her older sister, Kat, refuses to answer Henri’s questions about Alterra Junior/Senior High School, instead insisting that Henri needs to “figure things out for herself,” which makes Henri eager to prove her whole family wrong.
With help from a kind teacher and the right tutor, Henri’s trouble with math turns out to be manageable, no matter how many times her brain tries to flip numbers around. It’s the rest of seventh grade that proves to be the real challenge. Between forgetting important deadlines, trying to convince her parents to let her join the soccer team and making new friends Kat instantly dislikes, Henri must solve the seemingly impossible problem of balancing everything she wants to do while keeping everyone else happy.
Coretta Scott King Honor author Tanita S. Davis’ two previous middle grade novels, Serena Says and Partly Cloudy, depict young people carving out identities and creating supportive spaces for themselves, and Davis explores similar themes in Figure It Out, Henri Weldon. As Henri confronts situations that range from remembering to read a friend’s short story to caring for her sick pet, Wil Snakespeare, she stays motivated to persevere, whether out of love for her friends or sheer spiteful desire to defy her family’s expectations. As Henri gets to know her friends’ close-knit foster family, their supportive bonds contrast starkly with Henri’s own family, enabling her to recognize how harshly they often behave toward one another. Eventually, Henri realizes there isn’t necessarily a wrong way to love, as long as you’re trying.
The novel’s large cast of characters, along with Davis’ honest depiction of the sometimes antagonistic relationships between siblings, is relatable and authentic. Short excerpts from Henri’s journal open each chapter, grounding the book in a realistic sense of optimism that makes it easy to cheer her on. Figure It Out, Henri Weldon will encourage young readers to take a breath and keep trying, even when the odds—or their families—don’t always seem in their favor.
Henri is tired of her family treating her like “a problem to be solved,” so she’s determined to succeed at a new school in this honest and encouraging novel.
It’s a complicated, amazing world out there. The year’s best middle grade books find complexity and beauty in the great wide unknown—and within the hearts of their protagonists.
Marlene dreads Sundays, when she and her mom, Paola, spend most of the day at the salon undergoing the excruciating (and excruciatingly boring) ritual of getting their hair straightened. Marlene, who is Dominican American, has an imagination as vivid and untameable as her naturally curly hair, so she survives each week’s torture session by imagining herself as the star of her favorite show, “Super Amigas,” with her stylist as a supervillain.
But Marlene’s creativity is no match for the hurtful comments that her relatives make about her cousin Diana’s “good hair,” which is showcased in all its glossy glory at Diana’s quinceañera. And unlike on “Super Amigas,” there’s no way for Marlene to win this battle. After encouragement from her best friend, Camilla, and a little help from a YouTube tutorial, Marlene decides to wear her natural hair to school, but she gets ruthlessly bullied by her classmates and punished by her mom. How can Marlene be proud of who she is if everyone around her constantly makes her feel imperfect?
For her first graphic novel, Claribel A. Ortega, the bestselling author of Ghost Squad and the Witchlings series, is joined by debut artist Rose Bousamra. The result is a spirited story of a girl’s quest to embrace who she is. Bousamra’s artwork skillfully portrays lively city scenes and cozy interiors alike. They use a palette of roses, plums and soft teals to play perfectly off the warm brown and russet tones of Marlene’s skin and hair. Scenes pulled from Marlene’s imagination break through panel outlines, reinforcing her exuberance and growing frustrations.
Frizzy is an intimate mother-daughter drama that sensitively explores the concept of so-called “good hair,” a manifestation of racist beauty standards, as well as how such internalized anti-Blackness gets passed down through generations. Eager to value her unique identity, Marlene eventually learns how to advocate for herself, and her journey to proud self-acceptance is nothing short of joyful. In the end, readers are left to imagine what new weekly adventures Marlene and her mom might discover together, outside the stifling walls of the salon.
In this intimate mother-daughter drama, the journey to proud self-acceptance is utterly joyful.
A cat must save the moon from being eaten by intergalactic rats in this graphic novel from author Mac Barnett and Caldecott Honor illustrator Shawn Harris. Its madcap silliness and accessible artwork will appeal to the legions of loyal fans eager for more of the laugh-out-loud humor and deceptively simple cartoon-style art sure to be found in Jeff Kinney’s 17th Diary of a Wimpy Kid book, Diper Overlöde.
Wildoak
It is a truth universally acknowledged that most young readers can’t resist a good animal story. Readers hoping to receive Newbery Medalist Katherine Applegate’s Odder this holiday season are sure to enjoy debut author C.C. Harrington’s touching tale of a girl and a snow leopard who find each other when they are both most in need.
Endlessly Ever After
This illustrated choose-your-own-adventure journey through fractured fairy tales from Laurel Snyder and Caldecott Medalist Dan Santat is deliciously meta, which is why it’s the perfect choice to pair with the boundary-pushing graphics and nested metanarratives that await young readers in Cat Kid Comic Club: Collaborations, the newest release from Captain Underpants creator Dav Pilkey.
Help your pint-size bibliophile discover new favorites by pairing one of these fun, under-the-radar reads with the popular books at the top of their wish lists!
Christina lives in Grangeview, Texas, population 12,000, where she’s used to being one of the only Asian American students in her classes. She’s dealt with teachers who struggle to pronounce her last name and classmates who make fun of her lunch. When she explains that her dad is from Thailand, another student corrects her: “I think you mean Taiwan.”
As The Tryout opens, Christina feels ready to take on middle school, but she doesn’t have any classes with her Iranian American best friend, Megan, whose own experiences of standing out in Grangeview uniquely enable her to understand Christina. So when Megan asks Christina to try out for the cheerleading squad, Christina agrees enthusiastically. Beneath the surface of The Tryout’s seemingly simple story of friendship and cheerleading lies a compassionate exploration of identity, what it means to be a good friend and the pull of popularity.
Two-time 2021 Newbery Honor author Christina Soontornvat has written middle grade fiction and nonfiction as well as picture books. The Tryout is her first graphic novel as well as her first book with autobiographical elements. As a narrator, her fictional self embraces the complexities of life on the cusp of adolescence; she sees through social norms but still longs to be perceived positively by her peers. When Megan explains the Texas homecoming custom of enormous corsages called mums, Christina says that it’s “such a weird tradition,” but a thought bubble reveals that she’s also thinking, “I totally want one.” As she learns from some pretty big mistakes, Christina also reminds readers that raising themselves up isn’t worthwhile if it means putting others down.
Debut illustrator Joanna Cacao thoroughly captures the capricious side of middle school, and her dynamic panels convey Christina’s constantly shifting moods. Darkly colored patterns surround Christina when she is feeling self-conscious, creating an effective contrast to the light, glittery backgrounds of the ethereal cheerleading squad. In an especially impactful touch, similar sparkles appear behind Christina when she’s feeling confident.
In her author’s note, Soontornvat explains that she never thought she would share the story in The Tryout, until she realized that “talking to one another and sharing our stories is how we make change.” The result is a book that balances loving where you’re from and still wanting to see it improve. The Tryout is a strong addition to the rapidly growing genre of autobiographical graphic novels for middle grade readers that will fit wonderfully on shelves alongside Kathryn Ormsbee and Molly Brooks’ Growing Pangs, Damian Alexander’s Other Boys and Tyler Page’s Button Pusher.
In her first graphic novel, Newbery Honor author Christina Soontornvat offers a compassionate exploration of identity, friendship and the pull of popularity.
In the royal city of Helston, everyone has a role they’re forced to play. Girls are taught to control their natural magical abilities and restricted from using their powers for anything beyond simple domestic and decorative arts. Boys are trained in combat, expected to take up the sword against monsters and other enemies lurking on Helston’s borders. But when Callie, a nonbinary kid who dreams of becoming a knight like their father, arrives at the palace, they expose all the cracks in Helston’s rigidly gendered society.
At the palace, Callie meets Prince Willow, who is useless with a sword but secretly blessed with magic, and Elowen, the chancellor’s daughter whose own magic goes far beyond what’s considered proper or safe. As war looms, Helston’s de facto ruler, Lord Peran, views anyone who won’t play by his rules as an enemy. He won’t hesitate to stamp out sparks of individuality wherever he finds them, including those within Callie, his own children and even the crown prince himself.
Young readers will find a worthy hero in Callie, who displays boundless courage in defending both their convictions and their friends. Although many people in Helston perceive Callie as a girl and try to force them into dresses and magic lessons, Callie asserts their identity with confidence. Determined Callie, gentle Prince Willow and capable Elowen form a supportive trio who balance one another’s weaknesses and demonstrate a variety of ways to be strong. In battles against foes ranging from vicious wolves to familial expectations, Callie and their friends show tremendous heart in the face of every challenge.
At times, Helston’s oppressive culture can be quite heavy, as Callie endures frequent misgendering, navigates a society fraught with sexism and discovers both the emotional and physical abuse that cruel adults have inflicted on their new friends. While threats posed by dragons and witches will keep young readers engaged, Esme Symes-Smith’s debut novel ultimately seeks to confront far more realistic dangers. In clear and simple terms, Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston assures readers that, no matter what anyone else might say, a real fairy-tale ending means finding the space and support to thrive exactly the way you are.
In this debut fantasy novel, young readers meet a worthy trio of heroes who balance one another’s weaknesses and demonstrate a variety of ways to be strong.
Twelve-year-old Lula Viramontes longs to be heard. She’s scared to use her raspy voice to stand up to her volatile Papá, who has decided that Lula and her sister will stop attending school so they can work in the grape fields of Delano, California. Lula is also worried about her Mamá, whose sudden illness has likely been caused by pesticides. But she has a seed of hope: Some organizations are leading a strike for better working conditions, and she must find the courage to convince Papá to join them.
A Seed in the Sun is a well-researched glimpse into the 1965 Delano grape strike and the 1960s movement for labor justice. Through Lula’s experiences, author Aida Salazar invites readers into the life of a child working in dangerous conditions. In an author’s note, Salazar is quick to point out that Lula’s reality still exists for many young people today, since “United States child labor laws (which protect children from exploitation) don’t apply to farmwork—the only industry in the nation that does not abide by them.” While the Viramontes are fictional, Lula and her family encounter real activists such as Dolores Huerta, Larry Itliong and Cesar Chavez.
In two previous novels (The Moon Within and Land of the Cranes), Salazar established herself as an expert writer of middle grade verse narratives filled with beautiful metaphors and similes. Her skill is evident here, as when Lula describes her voice as “an orange-yellow mist / that comes and goes / like clouds.” Salazar also intersperses Spanish throughout all of her novels, which lends authenticity to her verse. Although non-Spanish speakers will easily discern the meaning of most of the book’s Spanish words and phrases from context, fluent Spanish speakers and those who use a dictionary or translator as they read will be rewarded with treasures, like how the book’s six section titles are words that signify aspects of the harvesting season.
Salazar’s text is dynamic, with words that flow across the page. Each poem has its own pattern, and Salazar is creative with indentation, alignment and overall form. For instance, when Lula and her sister go behind their father’s back to get union cards, Salazar relays what happens next in a single block of full-justified text, conveying Lula’s excitement and nervousness about her passionate rebellion.
Readers gravitate toward middle grade historical fiction because it makes complex history tangible. A Seed in the Sun deserves a space on the shelf alongside Brenda Woods’ When Winter Robeson Came, which portrays another social justice movement in 1965 California, and Pam Muñoz Ryan’s Pura Belpré Award-winning Esperanza Rising, a modern classic of children’s literature that depicts the experiences of migrant workers.
Aida Salazar’s third novel in verse is a well-researched glimpse into the 1965 Delano grape strike as seen through the eyes of 12-year-old Lula Viramontes.
When Anna Hunt starts eighth grade at East Middle School, she soon realizes there’s something strange going on. Rachel Riley, once a key member of the popular crowd, is now shunned by everyone. When Anna casually inquires about why, she’s met with awkward silences and angry looks. An aspiring journalist, Anna decides to investigate What Happened to Rachel Riley? Peer pressure, sexual harassment and the struggle to do the right thing collide in Claire Swinarski’s timely and inspiring feminist middle grade novel.
What Happened to Rachel Riley? is dedicated to “eighth grade girls everywhere,” and Anna’s older sister validates Anna’s emotions by telling her that “eighth grade sucks.” What was eighth grade like for you? Eighth grade stank. Ha! I don’t know many people who look back fondly on their middle school years, and it makes me sad. Like so many other women, my middle school years were full of backstabbing, gossip and hurtful interactions. I wish I could be more positive about it, and there are a handful of memories I can look back on with joy. Because the year was so hard, those stand out all the brighter. But overall, I certainly struggled in middle school. There were so many moments of feeling awkward and left out. And we didn’t even have smartphones!
The novel is told not only through Anna’s narration but also through text messages, notes, emails, flyers and transcripts from the podcast Anna creates. Did you incorporate these formats into the book from the beginning? The unique formatting of the book was there since the very beginning. I’ve always wanted to write a book in this type of multimedia format. I feel that it lends itself so well to mysteries. As characters try to solve a complex question, they aren’t just talking to people. They’re also looking at documents, using search engines, sending emails. . . . It also just makes sense for a middle grade book in 2023 to feature text messages and social media comments, since that’s how so many kids communicate these days.
What was challenging about writing a book with this format? The most challenging part was coming up with unique, original ways to share information. I could have done all emails, or all text messages, but that would have gotten pretty boring pretty quickly. That’s why there are things like police reports, podcast transcripts and Christmas card letters too. Landing on the perfect idea for how to transmit information always felt great. The design team knocked it out of the park. When I first saw the illustrations of things like a crumpled-up birthday party invitation, I literally squealed with joy!
“Kids can often handle more than we give them credit for. The middle schoolers I know are smart, passionate, and curious—just like Anna.”
Anna’s family, from her parents and older sister to her grandmother, who lives in Poland, play such a big role in her life. Middle grade novels often relegate their protagonists’ families to the background, but you made them a vital element of Anna’s story. Why? When I was in middle school, my family played a huge role in my life. As a 13-year-old, you have so little say in so many aspects of your day. You aren’t deciding whether or not to go to school, or what classes to take, or what to have for dinner. You aren’t deciding who you live with or even which bedroom is yours! So I find that family units have to play a large role in a great middle grade story.
Beneath the veneer of school spirit at Anna’s new school lies a troubling secret that involves peer pressure, bullying and misogyny. Anna soon discovers that the pressure to treat it as no big deal is intense and unrelenting. What drew you to exploring this subject for middle grade readers? I very clearly remember being a middle schooler and desperately wanting to come across as laid-back. You were supposed to laugh everything off—mean jokes, bullying and sexual harassment. If you took anything seriously, you were labeled as uptight or a drama queen. It was better to be literally anything else. I got to thinking about why that was and wanted to explore it in a story. Why is that particular age group so obsessed with not making waves in social settings?
Two of my favorite characters in the book are the founders of a club based on global issues. In our current time, we see a lot of middle schoolers getting passionate about huge political topics. They want to be activists, and if they’re fighting for good causes, that’s fantastic. But sometimes the best way to change the world is to change the hallway. Shedding that fear of being seen as dramatic, especially for girls, can be step one.
What would you say to an adult who thinks that middle grade books shouldn’t include the kinds of subjects, experiences or emotions depicted in this novel? As a mom, I completely understand wanting your kids to be surrounded by books that are good and hopeful. I think it’s a mark of an invested parent to be concerned with what media your kids are consuming. At the same time, we can’t understate how important it is for kids to be surrounded by books that represent a true depiction of the world they live in.
No matter what your schooling situation is, your middle schooler is more than likely going to witness, perform or receive sexual harassment. How are they prepared to handle that? Stories can be a safe space to work out those kinds of conversations together. Wouldn’t you rather be the person talking about that with them, versus whatever they’re going to pick up from friends or TikTok? I know I would be.
Kids can often handle more than we give them credit for. The middle schoolers I know are smart, passionate, and curious—just like Anna. What they need are adults who are ready to have these kinds of conversations with them.
“A lot of middle schoolers [are] getting passionate about huge political topics. They want to be activists, and if they’re fighting for good causes, that’s fantastic. But sometimes the best way to change the world is to change the hallway.”
Anna eventually realizes that being brave and speaking out might give her classmates the courage to do the same. What do you hope young readers might take away from this part of her story? Telling the truth is a brave act. But it’s also about how we tell the truth. What are we hoping to get out of it? Anna’s goal isn’t to ruin anyone’s life or to shame anyone. It’s just to help people see the error of their ways and correct them. Also, Anna doesn’t have all the answers. She takes the posture of a learner throughout the book, bringing in adults she trusts to help her.
I hope young readers walk away from What Happened to Rachel Riley? knowing that it isn’t enough to want to be a change-maker or to want things to change without taking any action. You have to make the change in a way that’s positive and kind and truthful, and then you have to stay hopeful when there are bumps in the road. That staying-hopeful part can often be the trickiest bit. But it’s essential.
Twelve-year-old Millie is thrilled to work her first babysitting job, but her world turns upside down the morning after, when she learns that her four-month-old charge, Lola, has died of SIDS. In her second middle grade novel, Liz Garton Scanlon beautifully depicts a middle schooler navigating an unspeakable tragedy.
Let’s start with this book’s striking cover. In the book’s acknowledgments, you write that one of your best friends created the embroidery that serves as the cover image. How did this come about? I can’t get over that art, honestly. Jill Turney, Amelia Mack and Angie Kang (the book’s designers and design fellow) conceived of the image—a mashup of stitchery and sorcery. And then—it’s true!—they partnered with my friend Kathie Sever, founder of Fort Lonesome, a chain-stitch embroidery studio in Austin, Texas, where we both live. The art was made on a weighty piece of black linen, and I think it speaks to the heart and soul of this project, piercing darkness straight through with the abiding possibilities of love and light.
How did Lolo’s Light start for you? The first scene I imagined was the one in Chapter 3, where Millie finds herself in the gorgeous airiness of the Acostas’ house, babysitting for the very first time and enraptured by the importance of her circumstances. It all seems almost too good to be true, which is a very good place to start a story, on the cusp between the before and after. I teetered there for a while with Millie, and then we fell headlong into the story.
Tell us more about Millie, who she is and where she’s at as the novel opens. I think Millie is like many of us at 12 years old—happy and also restless. She has friends and smarts and good dogs and confidence, but what she really wants is to be grown up. That yearning to be on the other side of the invisible line between childhood and whatever-happens-next—it’s so palpable and so universal. But, of course, it’s also inevitably more complicated than we think it will be.
“Not every adult can walk alongside kids as they struggle and crack and grow, but I wanted Millie to have some of the good ones—the brave ones.”
After Lolo dies, Millie must confront all kinds of emotions. As you created her journey through grief, what was most important to you to get right about her experience? I wanted to look at grief honestly—especially this first, great grief—and to allow all the nuances of it to play out for Millie. I wanted to show, for example, that while it’s unbelievably hard to feel responsible, it’s also heartbreaking when you realize you’re not, that nobody is, that there was nothing anyone could have done to change what happened.
It was also really important to me to depict grief as a journey, as something shifting over time, as something Millie navigated and grew within and maybe even eventually understood. I just aimed to see her through it, and there were so many layers and facets and stages to illuminate along the way.
Let’s talk about the adults in this novel, because there are a bunch of really great ones. Why was it important to you to surround Millie with so many adults, particularly when children’s literature often goes out of its way to eliminate adults from narratives? I wanted to make sure Millie was not alone as she walked through grief. It’s as simple as that. Even when she felt alone, I wanted her surrounded by wisdom and experience and kindness and love. Not every adult in the real world is good at this. Not every adult can walk alongside kids as they struggle and crack and grow, but I wanted Millie to have some of the good ones—the brave ones. She needed them. Every kid does.
Millie’s class’s egg-hatching project works so beautifully within the story. Based on your acknowledgments, it sounds like you have experienced similar activities as both an elementary school student and as a parent. Did you by any chance attempt to re-create this project for research? Ha—I did not re-create the project but just you asking makes me wish that I had! I did hatch eggs in science class as a kid and I did win the chance to take one of the resulting chicks home. It wasn’t until I was on the school bus with a big box on my lap that I realized the chick was already becoming a rooster who would not do well with my dogs or upon the top of my dresser. That poor bird was rapidly rehomed!
”When adults suggest that kids shouldn’t read or know or think about those things, kids feel shame and confusion and loneliness and fear. Let’s not do that to them.”
What are some things you think novelists could learn from reading or writing picture books? Picture books center the child and the child’s perspective in a most remarkable way. There is something about having to consider the very youngest humans—the pre- and early readers— having to witness and reflect what they love and fear and want and need that can help us in the practice of writing through and of kids rather than to or for them.
Although this is not your first novel, you have written many picture books. What do you find challenging about novels? I’m a short-form writer at heart, so writing a novel is a very real effort in opening up, in giving each moment and every character a little more breathing room. It’s a matter of trying to evoke meaning and emotions with the same potency I might in a picture book, but holding the reader’s gaze while I do.
You addressed a note that accompanied advance editions of this book to “adult readers.” In it, you wrote, “The grown-up world has not, historically, done a great job of acknowledging or attending to young people’s feelings.” What would you say to an adult who thinks that children’s books shouldn’t include the kinds of subjects and emotions depicted in Lolo’s Light? I would say, “I understand your worry and your love, but kids are simply young human beings who wonder about and reckon with things like loss and grief and heartache just like we do! When adults suggest that kids shouldn’t read or know or think about those things, kids feel shame and confusion and loneliness and fear. Let’s not do that to them. Let’s not make things worse. Let’s, instead, keep them company.”
What do you hope a kid who finds themselves in a similar situation to Millie’s might take away from Lolo’s Light? Honestly, I hope all kids everywhere grow to know that there’s a light they can count on, a light that can be seen through cracks and curtains, in friendships and in family and in themselves. Even on the darkest days with the sharpest edges there is still a living, humming, human light—a bioluminescent beacon—there to see them through.
Lolo’s Light contains some egg-cellent puns. I’m curious: If you had the opportunity to name a flock of chickens, what do you think would make some egg-ceptional chicken names? Oh now THIS is a fun prompt. I’m going to go for a girl group—we’ll call them The Chicks— made up of Eggetha, Yolko and Henifer. They’ll be a power trio.
Maria Ressa’s book is a political history of the Philippines and an intimate memoir, but it’s also a warning to democracies everywhere: Authoritarianism is a threat to us all.
Sean Adams has dialed down the dystopian quotient from his first satirical novel, The Heap, but that element is still very much present in The Thing in the Snow.
