“I had a bad August. A very bad August. As bad as pickle juice on a cookie.” So says soon-to-be-third-grader Eleanor Kane. What’s wrong? Well, for starters, her beloved babysitter, Bibi, is moving away. Eleanor can’t imagine her life without the woman who has always cared for her. As Eleanor says when she hears the news, “It was as bad as somebody dying.” Eleanor doesn’t want to do anything that reminds her about the times she and Bibi spent together. Unfortunately, because she and Bibi did so much, there really isn’t anything left for Eleanor to do.

Told in poignant first-person narrative, Like Pickle Juice on a Cookie reveals Eleanor’s touchy reaction as a new babysitter enters her life. Natalie, the new babysitter, is very different from Bibi. Like a typical eight-year-old, Eleanor is resentful and suspicious of a world where everything is not as it always has been.

Like Pickle Juice on a Cookie follows Eleanor, her parents and Natalie as they navigate this tough time. First-time author Julie Sternberg paints Eleanor as a realistic character with her frequent mood swings, tentative hopes for the future and deep desire to cling to the past.

Although it’s a subject most everyone can relate to, there are few books written about young children and their babysitters. This heartwarming novel and its winsome cartoon-like illustrations draw readers right into the story. Children would enjoy this short chapter book as an independent read, but it would also be a particularly good choice for parents to read to or with their children.

Acclaimed storyteller Jane Yolen opens this powerful collection of 14 folktales with a letter to her sons and grandson: "This book is for you because for the longest time boys didn't know that being a hero was more than whomping and stomping the bad guy. They didn't understand that brains trump brawn almost every time; that being smart makes the battle shorter, the kingdom nearer, the victory brighter, and the triumph greater." Yolen is right. The young heroes of the folktales collected in this attractive volume demonstrate that cultures around the world have always valued compassion, intelligence and kindness. The stories span the globe, from China to Norway, Burma to America, Afghanistan to Finland. Each includes a striking, full-page illustration by artist Raul Colon. As an added bonus, the collection contains notes on the origin of each tale, as well as a bibliography.

In the opening story from China, titled "The Magic Brocade," Wang Xing, the youngest son of a weaver, turns down an offer of gold and instead risks his life for the happiness of his mother, whose beloved brocade has been lost. Unlike his older brothers, Wang Xing is willing to ride over the Mountain of Flame and through the Ice Sea to recover the brocade. Both he and his mother are richly rewarded for his loyalty and bravery.

One of my favorite stories in the collection, "The Young Man Protected by the River," is from Angola. In this tale, Kingungu, a young orphan, has become a slave to a heartless master. But Kingungu finds hope in a nearby river, which comes to him in his dreams, telling him that he will find three baskets in the water. In this story about making the right decisions, our hero chooses well, picking the smallest basket, which gives him "medicine-things" the tools and knowledge he needs to become a healer. With this knowledge, the boy is able not only to do good for others but to buy himself out of slavery. Yolen reminds her readers of the story's theme: "Remember to follow your dream." A perfect gift for any occasion, this collection is sure to help boys do just that.

When her best friend Anjali suddenly dies, 12-year-old Meredith Beals thinks her whole world is falling apart. She describes her feelings as “all weird and numb, like your cheek after you’ve been mauled at the dentist.” After a week of being “most exquisitely and totally alone,” Meredith vows to write letters to her absent friend, detailing life without her in an attempt to keep Anjali present.

In her touching new novel, author Melissa Glenn Haber is spot-on in capturing preteen fears and foibles. An entirely credible Meredith “communicates” with Anjali for approximately six weeks, confiding her personal thoughts about school pals, sibling rivalry and her complicated relationship with Noah, a boy Anjali had always fancied. Her humorous phrases, occasional misspellings and raw honesty about her grief combine to make these letters very real. (“Where are you? I need you to be here so I can tell you much I hate Wendy Mathinson!!!”)

Meredith’s descriptions of school antics and angst eventually give way to mentions of her hopes for the future, and the tone of the letters very gradually begins to change. While once Meredith’s missives were written in desperate attempts to keep Anjali close, the letters shift in their contents and significance, indicating that Meredith’s need to communicate is becoming less of a coping mechanism and more of an appeal to her friend for help with life’s mysteries.

As her fondness for Noah develops, Meredith becomes concerned not only that she is betraying her best friend, but that she might have once been betrayed by Anjali. A bright but shy girl, Meredith feels she is on the outside of many school relationships, so the letters serve as a sort of therapy. She eventually comes to terms with her need to write to Anjali and, while keeping her close, also accepts the fact that her best friend will always be a part of her life and that she can go forward with her memories as comfort.

The clever epistolary feature works well, especially in poignant passages that focus on Meredith’s uncertainties. Through this one-way correspondence, Haber has crafted a tender and original coming-of-age story that has much to offer young readers.

There's a great Far Side cartoon by Gary Larson about what we name our dogs "Rex," for instance and what dogs name themselves: "Tybor Stalker of Cats" or "Queen Thickfur of the Stained Rug." Larson is making an important point: as much as we think we know about our domesticated companions, a lot remains hidden. I think children's author Avi would agree. Certainly his new novel The Good Dog reflects this belief.

Avi tells the story of McKinley, a malamute who is sheriff, mayor and psychologist all rolled into one to the canines of Steamboat Springs, Colorado. He's also "raising a human pup" named Jack and protecting the boy's family. McKinley's world is changed forever when a she-wolf named Lupin comes from the mountains in search of recruits for her decimated pack, and he's faced with some hard choices. Should he stay or should he go? And if he stays, how will he handle the threat that Lupin presents to his town? When an abused greyhound escapes his master to join Lupin, McKinley must somehow find a way to balance the good of the pack, the fear (and respect) he feels for Lupin and the responsibility he has for his human companions.

On the premise that dogs probably know more than we think, Avi has crafted a detailed and realistic world for his characters. McKinley and the other dogs in this story have a simple grasp of some (but not all) of what the humans around them are saying, and consequently the dogs' understanding of why humans do what they do is limited. This can be amusing, like the dogs' concept of garbage trucks as being human donations of food to one another. Within the dogs' own world, the rituals that humans are familiar with marking territory, howling and submission all take on new meanings. The Good Dog also reveals parts of a dog's life that humans generally aren't privy to, like the animals' secret nighttime gatherings.

Avi sustains a balance in his tale. He doesn't present Lupin's life in the wild as superior to McKinley's existence as a domesticated animal. When Lupin is wounded, McKinley helps her in the only way he knows using man-things. Though superior to McKinley in a canine sense, Lupin is definitely out of her element in the human world, and she comes to respect McKinley as a result.

Young readers will find The Good Dog intriguing. Avi has won two Newberry Medals, and it's easy to see why.

James Neal Webb has a 13-year-old Keeshond.

It might seem impossible that one man could bring together an entire community, but Joe Louis, the “Brown Bomber” of pounding punches and focused fighting, did just that. At the height of the Great Depression, Louis’ big fight warbled through just about every radio in America, and for the three kids in Andrea Davis Pinkney’s new novel, it changes their lives forever.

Bird in a Box is told through the voices of three youngsters in Elmira, New York, in the months leading up to the big fight. Hibernia, Otis and Willie, who come from different worlds, are thrown together by tough luck and the power of the True Vine Baptist Church. Each has lost someone, and each has a seemingly unobtainable dream. Their stories converge at the center of their world: the radio.

Through the voices of the children, Pinkney creates a triumphant tale of accidental friendships and repaired lives. An appendix adds interesting historical context on the “real people and real places” in the book. The stories of Hibernia, Otis and Willie, accompanied by the backdrop of the championship fight, will have young readers rooting for a win all the way to the end.
 

Hard times have been coming fast and true for Charlie Anne and her siblings. Their mama died in childbirth. And now, with the Depression hitting hard, their daddy and brother must head north to help build roads—promising to send money home as soon as possible.

Could life get any worse? It soon does when the siblings have to live with crotchety, demanding cousin Mirabel, who works them to the bone—tending to the animals, cleaning the house and barn, making vinegar pie.

But, as the title implies, Charlie Anne is indeed a wonder, somehow managing to infuse her family with the right stuff. When neighbor Old Mr. Jolly brings home a new wife and a young African-American girl, Phoebe, Charlie Anne’s life picks up as she aligns herself with this happy, progressive family, much to cousin Mirabel’s—and the entire town’s—vocal dismay, ugliness and bigotry.

The wonder in Charlie Anne is in her tenacity to defend family bonds and to protect friendships at all costs, to do the right thing no matter who opposes her and to better herself. And, eventually, her actions have an effect on her entire family and on the town, as well.

Charlie Anne must endure a lot of anger, uncertainty and bitterness, and learn about the true nature of people, before she begins to see a change. And unfortunately, it takes a tragedy to turn some people around—including rigid Mirabel. But in the end, good triumphs over bad, showing just what the wonder of Charlie Anne can accomplish.

Kimberly Newton Fusco’s first book, Tending to Grace, won the Schneider Family Book Award for its portrayal of a child with a disability (stuttering). In her second middle grade novel, she has created memorable characters whom readers will either admire or despise—a testament to her attention to detail and believable dialogue.

While Mirabel’s “awakening” seems abrupt and the ending a bit too idealistic, overall, The Wonder of Charlie Anne is both a charming and thoughtful read. Its issues of family, race relations and hard times remain relevant for today’s young readers.