There’s a moment in Kwame Alexander’s middle grade novel, The Crossover, when protagonist Josh Bell’s father is telling him all about jazz musician Horace Silver: “Josh, this cat is the real deal. / Listen to that piano, fast and free, / Just like you and JB on the court.” Alexander’s poetry is the real deal, and its action, energy and heart earned it the 2015 Newbery Medal as well as a Coretta Scott King Author Honor.

What was the first thing that went through your head when you found out you had won the Newbery?
Am I delirious? Dreaming? Did he just really say ‘Medal’? And then, like the clouds shifting to reveal the golden sun, my life changed, a new normal ablaze.

Who was the one person you couldn’t wait to tell about the award?
My father, the man who forced me to read books. The man who always told me to “Look it up” when I asked him what a word meant. And, when he picked up and I told him, you could hear it in his voice: This was his award as much as it was mine.

“I’ve seen reluctant readers pick up the book and not put it back down until the end. That’s fulfilling.”

Do you have a favorite past Newbery winner?
One of the books he forced me to read was Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry, which won a Newbery, so I guess it’s kinda cool that I’ve now won. It’s coming full circle. So, maybe Mildred Taylor. Or maybe it’s Lois Lowry. Or maybe it’ll be Katherine Patterson, whose Bridge to Terabithia I’m reading for the first time.

What’s the best part of writing books for a younger audience?
Figuring out new and creative ways to empower young people through storytelling.

What kind of reaction have you gotten from your readers about this book?
The reaction has been fairly emotional. Readers from different backgrounds, ages and regions of our country have found some relatability in the characters and really empathize with their woes and wonders. I’ve seen reluctant readers pick up the book and not put it back down until the end. That’s fulfilling.

Have you read or listened to past Newbery acceptance speeches? Are you excited (or worried!) about your own speech?
I have not listened, nor am I sure I want to. I’ve written the speech in my head, where it sounds pretty amazing. Should be interesting to see if translates on the stage.

What’s next for you?
Sleep. I haven’t really slept since The Call. Also, there is a new middle grade that I am writing, and it’s called Booked, so I need to do some fine-tuning, then it’s off to more school visits, which I love as much as the writing.

It’s been 20 years since Cynthia Rylant’s beloved middle grade novel Gooseberry Park introduced the world to Stumpy the squirrel and her quirky, clever, community-minded friends. Now, the furry and feathered bunch is back in Gooseberry Park and the Master Plan, and readers will delight in discovering that the Gooseberrians are as adorable, smart and resourceful as ever.

Teamwork and lots of laughs help solve a water shortage in Gooseberry Park.

The park is still a peaceful, beautiful place, too. As Gwendolyn the hermit crab observes, “There was a stillness to Gooseberry Park that is rare in this world. It seemed that every tree, every flower and bird and creature, had taken a deep breath and settled in.”

Despite the lovely qualities of the characters and place she’d created, Rylant hadn’t been particularly keen on writing another Gooseberry Park novel. She explains to BookPage via email from her home in Portland, Oregon, “Animal fantasy is harder for me. My imagination is not really very good. . . . So even though I wished I could write a second story, I wouldn’t try, sure I couldn’t make it happen.”

It must be noted that in the intervening years since Gooseberry Park, the Newbery Award- and Caldecott Honor-winning author was busy writing many, many other books, including entries in her Henry and Mudge series, seven other series and numerous standalone titles.

And then, one day, the characters pushed aside Rylant’s doubts and demanded another outing. “All I know is that Kona and Gwendolyn and all the rest of the gang came back. I went to a coffee shop to read the New York Times, and before I finished page one, suddenly I was fishing my little notebook out of my purse, and I wrote the entire first chapter without stopping. No editing. No pausing. What I wrote is what is in the book. It’s inspiration, and it just has its own calendar.”

She adds, “I didn’t know what the book would be about exactly, just a water shortage. I like the characters to be able to do brave and noble things, so I give them weather disasters.”

Everyone at Gooseberry Park rises to the occasion, working diligently to craft and implement the titular Master Plan to bring water to everyone in the drought–bedeviled park. First, Gwendolyn and Kona (a black Labrador retriever) realize they need their neighbor, a genius crow named Herman, to help them figure out the mathematical aspects of their ambitious strategy.

Herman agrees to join the cause (thank goodness he likes a challenge). Next, they need to recruit a few more animals, gather 20 packs of chewing gum and corral 200 teamwork-averse owls. Good thing Murray the bat’s long-lost brother is coming to town; he’s super-aggravating to Murray (who copes by using his “toesies” to shove raisins in his mouth even as he complains to his friends), but he’s also got the gift of gab—just the thing to get those owls to work together, even for a little while.

And yes, the book is as funny, even funnier, than it sounds here. Rylant’s gift for sly yet sweet humor is on every page, whether describing Herman’s learned family of crows (“At suppertime . . . every member . . . ate with a book in one foot”) or Kona’s wandering thoughts during a serious discussion about the need for water (“For a moment he wished he were someone else. Maybe one of those dogs on a surfboard in Hawaii.”).

As with Gooseberry Park, Gooseberry Park and the Master Plan will simultaneously entertain and teach readers about the relationship between human actions and consequences for our earth, and inspire them to look at animals with a more imaginative eye.

The illustrations by Arthur Howard contribute to that cause and are wonderfully suited to Rylant’s prose. His portraits are evocative: Augustina the owl looks thoughtful, a bit skeptical and ultimately, er, unflappable. Howard’s action-shot drawings are a joy to behold as well: pictures of animals solving problems, cooking with The Zen of Stir-Fry cookbook and relaxing, as in the hilarious image of Gwendolyn giving Murray a soothing Reiki massage in the warm glow of a single candle.

That perfect pairing of words and pictures is no surprise. Rylant and Howard have worked together for decades. The author says, “He and I have still never met. We did our first Mr. Putter and Tabby book back in the 1990s. . . . Arthur has been a part of my life ever since. I think he and I have the same child inside us.” In fact, she says, “I don’t tell him what to draw. Arthur is really a genius (just like Herman).”

Speaking of Herman, Rylant says that while much of the book came to her as she wrote, there was one sticking point: “The hardest part for both Arthur and me was trying to figure out Herman’s mathematical calculations. We drove ourselves crazy counting seconds and minutes and making sure the clocks had the right time in the drawings. Our editor also. She even called in her math-teacher husband to double-check our numbers.”

Headaches aside, she says, “We had a really good time with all the work, because we all really love the characters. They are part of us. They are our better selves.”

That respect and appreciation for nature and its creatures is palpable in Gooseberry Park and the Master Plan, in the way the characters communicate, accept each other’s differences (not without a little teasing, of course) and work to ensure a healthy, safe environment.

Here’s hoping Rylant’s latest inspires her readers, young and not-as-young, to enjoy and care for their own version of Gooseberry Park.

This article was originally published in the May 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Coretta Scott King Honor-winning author Jewell Parker Rhodes (Sugar) returns to the Louisiana bayou in her enchanting new middle grade novel, Bayou Magic. Ten-year-old Maddy is the last of her sisters to leave their home in bustling New Orleans for a summer in the bayou with Grandmére. Soon, Maddy discovers the bayou's natural beauty, close-knit community and her family's magical legacy. When an oil leak threatens the community, Maddy must rely on her strength, her smarts and the help of a mysterious mermaid. We asked Rhodes a few questions about Bayou Magic and what she loves about writing children's literature.

Bayou Magic takes a very different approach to mermaid lore than the Disney tale so many of us are familiar with. What was the inspiration for this story?
I’ve long known about different mermaid lore. I was thrilled when both UCLA’s Fowler Museum and the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African Art featured an exhibit of Mami Wata, “Mother Water.” I think it’s amazing that African mermaids swam beside slave ships and remained in America to comfort the captured and to remind them of their homeland. Literature teaches culture. I want girls of color to know there are heroic mermaids that mirror them. I want all girls to know there are diverse, global mermaid tales that depart from the Western tale of a mermaid transforming herself to marry a human.

You were born in Pittsburgh, but Bayou Magic and many of your previous novels take place in Louisiana. What is it about the Deep South that moves you?
My grandmother raised me and she had deep Southern roots. She believed in holistic healing and she taught me to honor the past, my ancestors and nature. Grandmother died when I was 19 just as I was deciding to become a writer. Whenever I visit Louisiana, I feel her spirit—her good-heartedness and love. I’m also enthralled by the cultural stew—the delicious food, music and people. History feels alive in Louisiana; the atmosphere encourages dreams, magic and creativity.

What do you love most about Maddy?
Maddy was a surprise and delight for me. She’s far more quiet and watchful than any of my other heroines. And she has the biggest eyes that just glow with curiosity, intelligence and kindness. To save her family, friends and the bayou from the effects of an oil spill, she overcomes her fears and swims with Mami Wata, the most powerful mermaid of all. I also love that Maddy loves and listens to her grandmother’s tales. 

Why is magic and myth such an important part of children’s literature?
The world is already magical for children. Seeing the moon, a family of rabbits, currents in the water are spectacular for a child. However, I do think children are drawn to stories in which characters perform magic. Magic can help children overcome their limitations and, like Maddy, save the day. Combine the mythic hero’s journey with magic and young readers feel empowered.

What’s the best part of writing for a younger audience?
Hugs and more hugs! Visiting schools is such a life-affirming delight. But I didn’t expect cards, letters and drawings from students. It’s very precious when a child reaches out. I keep a box filled with cards and letters. I imagine when I’m very, very old they will never fail to lift my spirits.

What was your favorite book when you were Maddy’s age, and how has it influenced your own writing?
As a kid, I read everything. Little Women, Black Beauty and Nancy Drew were some of my favorites. I could only afford to buy Great Illustrated Classic comics. I’d gather pop bottles and redeem them for nickels. I loved The Prince and the Pauper and The Journey to the Center of the Earth. But the Prince Valiant comic strip meant a great deal to me. I decided that I wanted to grow up and “be valiant.” I think my characters, the strong boys and girls, are valiant—courageous and determined.

What do you hope your young readers learn from this book?
Nature needs to be cherished and the health of animals, humans and our planet need to be balanced with energy needs. Young people today will be the stewards of the future. I do believe legends of mermaids who valued waters and befriended humanity will add an emotional resonance to sustainability issues for children.

Are you working on any new projects?
I’m completing Towers Falling (publishing Summer 2016). It’s about Dèjà, a homeless girl, who discovers how her life has been impacted by the 9/11 terrorist attacks. I’m also doing research for two other historical novels. I don’t know if I’ll write one or both or none. As always my writing follows my heart. I’m open to voices, characters that appear like ghosts when I’m doing the dishes or dreaming.

When we reach author Cassie Beasley at her family’s home in rural Georgia, it’s 50 days until the release of her debut, Circus Mirandus . . . not that she’s counting.

Oh, let’s not be silly—of course she’s counting! On a huge calendar hanging on the wall: “I mark off the days and get more and more excited until I feel like I’m about to burst!” Beasley says.

Too late: Beasley has already burst onto the children’s publishing scene. Her magical tale for middle grade readers sold to Dial after a five-publisher bidding war, and a Hollywood production company has pre-emptively purchased film and TV rights.

“It’s been a whirlwind, and so much fun—everything that happens is a revelation!” Beasley says. It’s also the culmination of steady progress along a path to authordom that began in childhood. 

“I loved books from a very early age and read everything I could get my hands on,” Beasley says. “But it took me a while to make the connection that I didn’t have to just read books, I could also write books.”

Beasley figured this out in high school, which led to her choosing an undergraduate writing program at nearby Georgia Southern University, followed by getting her MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts, where she wrote the first draft of Circus Mirandus.

“Writing that first draft was very exciting and fun and all so new. . . . I loved it, loved it, loved it,” she says. “Then came the years of revision! That’s where the work comes in. But it can be really exciting, too, seeing it getting better as you progress. It’s so rewarding, now that it’s done, to see how far it’s come.”

All that work was certainly worth it. Circus Mirandus is an engaging, innovative tale that balances fantastical goings-on with an exploration of love, loss, friendship and the value of being open to the unexplainable. The latter has been part of Beasley’s mental makeup from an early age. 

“I always gravitated toward fantasy novels,” she explains. “It’s probably my parents’ fault—they had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with fantasy books, so I was always imagining I could go to Narnia or Hogwarts. Even when I try to write contemporary books, there’s always some magic because I can’t help myself.”

Ten-year-old Micah Tuttle is wide open to magical thinking, thanks to the stories Grandpa Ephraim (who has cared for Micah since his parents died) tells him about the amazing, magical Circus Mirandus. There are talking animals, invisible tigers and otherworldly performers—not least The Man Who Bends Light, a magician who transports his audiences to places and times they can only dream or imagine.

When Grandpa falls ill and his sister, the awful Great-Aunt Gertrudis, comes to stay, she won’t allow them to talk about the Circus . . . or spend much time together at all. But Micah sneaks in to see Grandpa, and that’s when he learns something astonishing: Circus Mirandus is real! And Grandpa has written a letter to the Lightbender, because the magician owes him a miracle.

As if finding out magic is real and having a sick grandpa and a mean great-aunt isn’t stressful enough, Micah also has an important project due at school—and his partner, the super-smart Jenny Mendoza, is not going to be pleased when she finds out he hasn’t finished his part yet. 

Micah wracks his brain to come up with an idea and decides to make an Incan quipu, a series of intricate knots that represent numbers, words and other information. It’s somewhat of a natural choice for Micah: “Grandpa Ephraim liked to say that Tuttles and knots went together like toast and cheese.”

It’s also a somewhat unusual story choice, in that knot tying is a bit of a lost art (and skill). Beasley was fascinated to learn about quipus in sixth grade, and the idea resurfaced as she wrote Circus Mirandus. “I like that knot tying’s a physical thing and not a super-powerful talent, so it’s subtle, in a way.” 

And it’s a recurring element that showcases Beasley’s gift for conveying detail and sentiment in unexpected ways, whether Micah is contemplating a classmate (“A Nathan Borgle knot would be big and sturdy and not too good-looking”) or creating a harness for an airborne adventure. 

That adventure is just one of many as Micah and Jenny team up to find the Circus and convince the Lightbender to give Grandpa his miracle—all while attempting to keep the grown-ups none the wiser (and to get their schoolwork done on time).

Circus Mirandus is an exciting and entertaining read, rife with inventive surprises, stories from the past and shiny hopes for the future, feats of derring-do and much more. There’s plenty of humor, too—from science-loving Jenny’s initial resistance to the Circus (“You must have a wonderful team of geneticists working with you to create bioluminescent bush babies”) to a wallaby who burps the Greek alphabet to nearly everything done or uttered by Chintzy the tart-tongued messenger-parrot.

It’s also an excellent testament to the upside of believing in magic. After all, as Grandpa Ephraim tells Micah, “Once in a while, it’s good to be ridiculous and amazing.”

Words to live by. And—especially if you’re Beasley, who will soon be on the road sharing the Circus Mirandus magic—it’s probably a good idea to practice your half hitches and your square knots, too

Robert Beatty's middle grade debut, Serafina and the Black Cloak, is a unique blend of supernatural mystery, Southern historical and rich fantasy. Readers are sure to love this brave, brash and rather unusual heroine whose true identity may prove to be a puzzle of its own.

When a terrifying cloaked man starts abducting the children in the grand Biltmore Estate that Serafina (secretly!) calls home, she must defy her stubborn father's orders to lay low and band together with some unlikely new friends to find the missing victims and put an end to this otherworldly threat once and for all.

We asked Beatty a few questions about the history of Asheville, North Carolina, fine-tuning the spookiness of a story and more.

What inspired you to set the book in your own hometown of Asheville, on the grounds of the grand Biltmore Estate?
I love the history and beauty of Biltmore Estate. I enjoy exploring its rooms and corridors. Whenever I’m there, I envision all the stories—both realistic and imaginative—that could take place there. I think people really yearn for stories about places they love, and I’m definitely not alone in loving Biltmore.

This story is set in 1899—can you tell us about the historical research you did in preparation for your writing?
My concept was to create a spooky, mystery-thriller in a historically accurate setting, to mix an engaging fantasy within a historical texture. I researched the house and the time period extensively, both in person and in books. I’ve read every book on Biltmore and the Vanderbilt family that I could find. My goal was to make the setting and historical details of Serafina and the Black Cloak true to life, and I asked the museum curators at Biltmore to double-check the manuscript for me.

Although there is plenty of humor and adventure in the book, there are also some very dark and scary elements. What made you want to write a Gothic novel for a middle grade audience?
When I set out to write Serafina and the Black Cloak, my goal was to write a story that would engage my daughters and keep them on the edge of their seats. I wanted to write a story about a very unusual, but heroic girl who must face not only many dangers, but the mystery of her own developing identity. My wife and daughters helped me refine the story and the character. Among other things, I drew upon my daughters to help me fine-tune the level of spookiness to their liking.

Why did you decide to leave your career in the tech industry in order to pursue writing full time?
I’ve been passionate about writing all my life, but it had always taken a back seat to my entrepreneurial career. As the founder and CEO of an Internet software company, I was working ninety-hour weeks and totally loved it. But when my wife was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at the age of 31, it hit me hard. I decided to change my life, focus on my family, and pursue a new dream—one that was more conducive to a life at home. So I sold my company and started writing full time. My wife went through treatment and is now in remission. Our third daughter, and to some extent Serafina and the Black Cloak, are the rewards of our continued life together.

Has having three daughters influenced your writing in any way?
I literally write with and for my daughters. At dinner each night we brainstorm ideas, develop stories, and work out the details of the plot and character. When my daughters get home from school each afternoon, I better have the next chapter done or they get mad at me! They listen to and provide feedback on every version of every page I write, guiding me toward the story they want to hear. This has been a family project with my wife and daughters from the beginning, and continues to be that way today. For example, my wife and daughters have been deeply involved in the making of the book trailer for Serafina. They helped develop the script and fine-tune the editing. My wife made the beautiful dresses that we used in the trailer, my 15-year-old daughter trained the dog, and my 12-year-old daughter played the role of Serafina.

Serafina is not your average heroine—what do you love most about her?
I love how in many ways she is a strange creature of the night, with unusual and even somewhat unsettling characteristics, but in many other ways, she’s innocent, frightened and finding her way. I also love that she has a real fierceness to her, but a good heart.

What was your favorite book when you were Serafina’s age, and how has it influenced your writing?
I started writing novels when I was Serafina’s age, which I think is another reason that I love writing about that age. Over the years, I’ve fallen in love with the writing of Jane Austen, Ernest Hemingway, and Charles Dickens, but when I was a kid, I loved medieval fantasy novels like T.H. White’s The Book of Merlin and The Once and Future King. Despite the dark forces that my characters must face along the way, I’ve always been a romantic at heart. I love a traditional hero’s journey. Or better yet, a heroine’s journey.

Do you have any future writing projects planned?
Yes. I’ve begun the sequel for Serafina and the Black Cloak.I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Disney Hyperion will want to publish it and that there will be a few people out there who will want to read it. But in the meantime, I know there are three particular little girls who are demanding it. 

Some may think of New York City’s Upper West Side as “Seinfeld” stomping grounds, but fans of Rebecca Stead know better: These apartments, shops and streets are where Stead does her own stomping—and where the characters in her critically lauded middle grade novels live.

While Stead’s first novel, 2007’s First Light, was set on the quite different island of Greenland, her three subsequent books are set in New York City past and present: 2010 Newbery Medal winner When You Reach Me takes place in Stead’s childhood neighborhood; and Liar and Spy explores Brooklyn. Stead’s new book, Goodbye Stranger, which takes place 10 blocks from where the author grew up, gives readers a window into living one’s formative years in a city that’s both a world-famous object of fantasy and home to lots of regular people doing regular stuff.

“As soon as I started writing about childhood,” Stead tells BookPage during a call to her home, “it was inevitable the characters were going to end up in New York, because that’s where I’ve always been. It’s weird to live in the same neighborhood in New York City for so long. Things change so much.”

"A lot of girls feel fantastic about the way they look at this age, and they should. It’s not something kids should have to deny."

She adds, “Every once in a while I have a moment: For a second, walking on Amsterdam Avenue, it feels like my childhood. It lasts about six seconds, three steps—it can be something I see or hear, music, people playing dominoes—and I think about how it was . . . and then it’s gone.” 

But her memories, her touchstones, do wend their way into her fiction: “Somehow, it’s all feeding me.”

Just as the city itself is both glittery and dun-colored, modern and historic—depending on the perspective—the characters in Goodbye Stranger are figuring out who they really are as well. They consider how others see them versus what they feel inside and ponder grand-scale existential questions, too.

For seventh-grader Bridget Barsamian (you can call her “Bridge”), the latter sort are front of mind. They have been since she survived being hit by a car at age 8 and a nurse commented, “You must have been put on this earth for a reason, little girl, to have survived.”

In the intervening years, Bridge hasn’t figured out that reason. Lately it doesn’t help that she’s been getting homework assignments like, “Answer the question, ‘What is love?’ ” That’s heady stuff for anyone, let alone someone who’s negotiating the oh-so-challenging middle school years, rife with physical and emotional changes, odd behavior from longtime friends and a tentative new friendship with a boy named Sherm.

And sure, books have come before that have trod these roads—and books will come after—but Stead’s approach is a moving blend of present-day and historic, romantic love and familial love, deep questions and just-for-fun pursuits like sock buns and a hilariously intense competition between Bridge’s brother and his frenemy.

It therefore follows that Stead likes “to read books that are a little challenging or complicated, or feel off-balance a little bit. For me, that’s a great pleasure of reading, slowly doing the reader’s work of putting the story together and building an understanding of what’s happening. It’s important to me as a reader, so I always think about that when I’m writing.”

To wit, Goodbye Stranger is told from three distinct points of view: Bridge, Sherm and an anonymous narrator whose identity is slowly, tantalizingly revealed. “I like the idea of the reader synthesizing the character over time,” says Stead. “Hopefully it creates a little bit of a moment for the reader, because that’s how people are—so different internally from how we present.”

That issue is also explored through the characters’ texting, sharing and judging of photos and the supposed motives therein. Bodily autonomy figures in, via the question of whether it’s perfectly healthy for girls to be happy about how they look—or if they should feel abashed at any sense of pride. 

“There are a lot of different questions around this time of life, and it’s important to keep in mind that a lot of girls feel fantastic about the way they look at this age, and they should. It’s not something kids should have to deny. It’s a complex issue.

“Also, the level of control . . . [is] lost because there are so many images online . . . but at the same time, you can really decide how you will present yourself. And people can pull up your page and study it for an hour, forward it or link to it.”

But even as Bridge juggles her friend Emily’s texting habits, a new distance from their friend Tabitha and an unexpected affinity for the Tech Crew (which is cool because it’s a crew, not a club), ancient history looms in interesting ways, from the car accident’s continued presence in Bridge’s thoughts to Sherm questioning whether the Apollo 11 moon landing was real. 

About that: Stead says, “I’m entertained by the fact people deny that it happened. The whole question of, what do we really know?”

Readers of Goodbye Stranger will know that, as always, the author has a keen eye for and an empathetic take on what it’s like to be a middle-schooler—and what it’s like to be a thoughtful kid like Bridge. “I think it’s an incredible time of life, and I have such enormous respect for kids that age. They’re really deep.”

Stead adds, “My memory of that age is just full of existential questions about how the world worked. I don’t think I was special—kids really are asking a lot of deep questions about themselves, how other people see them, who other people really are. It’s an incredible widening and explosion internally and intellectually. . . . That’s why I write for younger kids. That, for me, was a really incredibly interesting, fruitful time of life.”

This article was originally published in the August 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

2008 Newbery Honor Book

Author Gary Schmidt's Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy (2004) was that rare book that appealed to both teenagers and younger readers. An eloquent, beautifully written novel based on the destruction of an African-American community in Maine in 1912, it came as no surprise that it earned both a Printz and Newbery honor.

Now, with Schmidt's new novel, The Wednesday Wars, he has achieved something equally rare: a book that manages to be an accessible, humorous school story, and at the same time an insightful coming-of-age tale set during one of the most turbulent times in 20th-century America.

Like his 12-year-old protagonist, Holling Hoodhood, author Gary Schmidt grew up on Long Island. Schmidt's own school recollections include vivid memories of a middle school teacher named Mrs. Baker. Holling also has a teacher named Mrs. Baker, and as the book—and the school year—open, he's convinced she has it in for him:

Of all the kids in the seventh grade at Camillo Junior High, there was one kid that Mrs. Baker hated with heat whiter than the sun.

Me.

On Wednesdays, you see, everyone in the seventh grade—except Holling—is excused early to go to weekly religious classes. Half the class is Catholic; the other half, Jewish. Holling, being the only Presbyterian, is left behind to be the bane of his teacher's existence.

"Just as in the book, I really was the only one in class for the last couple of hours every Wednesday afternoon. But my Mrs. Baker really did hate me," notes the affable Schmidt, a professor of English at Calvin College in Grand Rapids. "After all, I was standing between my teacher and freedom—early release every Wednesday."

Like his young hero, Schmidt breathed in his share of chalk dust cleaning erasers on those Wednesday afternoons. But unlike young Holling, he most definitely did not spend the year exploring the plays of Shakespeare, gaining a fuller appreciation of his teachers as adults with their own trials and problems, and coming to terms with complex school and family relationships. Most especially, the author did not have to grapple with two gigantic, escape-artist rats named Sycorax and Caliban. "I haven't told you about Sycorax and Caliban yet, and you might want to skip over this next part, since it's pretty awful," Holling courteously warns readers.

Holling's year in seventh grade takes place in 1967-1968, a time of social upheaval in America. Although the timeframe does not correspond to Schmidt's own seventh-grade year, his choice was deliberate.

"This was one of our country's most violent years, with the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy. Vietnam dominated the evening news, with 250 soldiers being shipped home in body bags every week," says Schmidt.

To better understand this era, Schmidt did extensive research. "I read The New York Times for the entire time that is covered in the novel. And although this was not in any way meant to be a book about Iraq, over the past three years as I was writing it, I was struck by the similarities to headlines today."

Although the issues in The Wednesday Wars are serious—prejudice, the backdrop of Vietnam, uncertain family and school relationships—Holling is a self-aware, engaging narrator, and the situations he relates are often laugh-out-loud funny.

There are those rats, of course. And there's also the matter of Holling's costume for his debut as Ariel the Fairy in the Long Island Shakespeare Company's Holiday Extravaganza. "I got through the whole dress rehearsal playing Ariel the Fairy while wearing bright yellow tights with white feathers on the . . . well, I might as well say it—butt. There. On my butt!" Holling tells readers. "White feathers waving on my butt."

"I wanted to try something different by writing in a colloquial voice," says Schmidt, noting how different The Wednesday Wars is in style from Lizzie Bright. "I also wanted to show the mixture between drama and comedy, sad moments and silly ones. That's how we live our lives:really ping-ponging back and forth."

One of the most poignant relationships in the book is that of Holling and his father, an architect with ambition. Holling's father rules "the Perfect House," which is scrupulously maintained to outshine every other house on the block. He's also determined to be the head of a perfect family, which inevitably leads to conflicts with Holling and his older sister.

While at the outset Holling is simply "the Son Who Is Going to Inherit Hoodhood and Associates," by the end of the school year he has begun to develop the courage to stand up for the right to choose his own future.

"The idea for this book originally came to me as one simple image," Schmidt explains. "I could see a kid running, with a teacher standing on the sidelines, shouting encouragement."

That scene does, in fact, make it into this rich and multilayered story. It occurs toward the end of the school year, in April. And it is well worth waiting for, both for readers and for Holling, who has begun to realize just how special his Wednesdays with Mrs. Baker have been.

One thing readers will not have to wait too long for is another book by Schmidt, who somehow manages to balance being the father of six children, a professor of English and one of the most talented and thought-provoking writers for young people.

The next novel, he promises, is already done.

For two girls on opposite ends of the world, adventure begins with a mysterious book.

In Georgia, Kai is staying with her great-aunt and finds a gorgeous, ornate book called The Exquisite Corpse. Its pages are almost completely blank, but it soon begins to share its secrets. In Pakistan, Leila finds a copy of The Exquisite Corpse as well. As A Tale of Highly Unusual Magic unfolds, told by a mysterious omniscient narrator, the two girls discover that their books are connected—and that together they’re spinning a truly magical tale.

What inspired this book?
This book was inspired by my very own magic book! When I was 10 years old, my German grandmother gave me a book of fairy tales. She explained that this book was a gift to her from her father, my great-grandfather, who had bought it from a bookstore in France during World War I because he wanted his daughter to learn English. The stories are beautifully illustrated and told, and as I read it and re-read them, I realized that I wanted to write stories when I grew up. I knew that this book was magical, and that it was meant for me—look at how far it had traveled and how long, just to reach me.

A Tale of Highly Unusual Magic is about two girls on opposite sides of the world who are linked by a magic book and a series of mysterious events. It’s about the way the past and present intersect, tying together people and events. And the nugget of that story is right there, in a book I got when I was 10 years old.

Kai and Leila’s stories are delivered by a very assertive omniscient narrator. (“In the gutter, Kai saw a squashed frog that had dried to leather in the Texas heat. I like to call that road jerky.”) Why did you choose this narrative style?
A Tale of Highly Unusual Magic is a book about a book. The Exquisite Corpse is the magical book that ties two girls—one in Texas and one in Pakistan—together. But The Exquisite Corpse is, itself, a character. It has a goal in mind. It wants the girls to connect, and—in some cases—it even writes directly to them. It is a book with a particular voice, and I wanted that voice to be distinct.

The narrator of A Tale of Highly Unusual Magic is the voice of The Exquisite Corpse. The same voice addresses both the characters and the reader. There are even a few places in which the voice talks about itself. For example, page 210: “Of course, the book knew the ending. But it was a very intelligent book, and knew that the best stories only give enough information to keep the reader interested. It wasn’t about to start explaining too much. Instead, it let Kai wonder.”

Even reading that makes me giggle. That book has some serious attitude!

There’s something very untrustworthy about magic items, especially magic books. As much as it could hold wonders, a magical book could turn out to be, oh, you know, a Horcrux. But that’s the risk of any type of magic, isn’t it? It could be sinister or kind, and often characters don’t know until the end. How do you think kids implicitly understand that magic is worth the risk?
(Awkward, embarrassed pause as I google “Horcrux.”) Interesting! “A powerful object in which a wizard has hidden part of his/ her soul in a bid for immortality.” That sounds a lot like . . . books. Arguably, every book ever written is an attempt at immortality, an attempt to connect to people beyond the depth and scope of our limited lives. This is a really interesting question.

Yes, magic is risky, but the danger is part of the appeal. I think that kids understand that—often—magic is highly influenced by the user. Someone who attempts to use magic for selfish or poorly-thought-out ends is likely to encounter danger. Someone with a kind heart and good intentions is likelier to have a good outcome, or is at least likelier to escape harm. Kids understand that intentions matter.

What is your connection to Pakistan, and what has been the most surprising or enjoyable part of getting to know Pakistani culture?
My husband is from Pakistan, and my in-laws have welcomed me into their big, vibrant family. My daughter is 7, and she identifies very strongly with her Pakistani heritage, as well as her American heritage. I think most people don’t understand how colorful and joyful Pakistani culture can be. The typical news images we see are nothing like what I experience when I go there: colorful clothing, dancing, incredible music, delicious food and a lively art scene. These are the things I wanted to reflect in my book.

If you were co-writing a book with anyone in the world, who would you choose, and what would you write about?
Wow! GREAT QUESTION! I have been very lucky to co-write with James Patterson and Chris Tebbetts, and I really enjoyed those experiences. Collaborating is wonderful, because it mitigates the isolation and self-doubt that writing alone can cause. But anyone in the world?

I think I’d like to work with Amy Poehler—something really smart and hilarious, set in middle school. Or maybe a crazy feel-good musical with Cyndi Lauper. I love Cyndi Lauper.

What do you love most about writing for young readers?
I don’t really think of young readers as being terribly different from older readers, except that they feel the books more. When I tell a joke, there are people who say, “That’s funny,” and there are people who laugh. Grown-ups will read a book and say, “That’s well-written” or “That’s moving.” Young readers will cry or giggle or screech or gasp. They’re the ideal audience, really, and they are far more intelligent than most adults realize.

What are you working on next?
I just finished a first draft of my next novel, which is tentatively titled Apartment 1986. It’s about a girl who skips school for a week to visit the art museums along New York City’s Museum Mile. It’s the usual Lisa Papademetriou mix of funny and sad and slightly weird. I’m excited about it!

Author photo credit Ellen Augarten.

Did you know buttons used to be made from shells? Delia Ray didn’t, but when she found out, an idea sparked. Her seventh book, Finding Fortune, is set in a town inspired by Muscatine, Iowa, the former Pearl Button Capital of the World.

The shell-buttons were clam and mussel, pulled from the Mississippi River in the early to mid-1900s by men, women and children who camped on the riverbanks and labored in factories. “It was a short-lived industry,” Ray says from her Iowa City home. “The rivers were harvested, the shells disappeared, plastic technology came along.”

This intriguing, little-known aspect of American history first came to Ray’s attention during a family vacation to Florida 10 years ago, when she, her husband and their three daughters paid a rainy-day visit to the Bailey-Matthews National Shell Museum. There among the showier seashells were humble clamshells, about the size of your hand, with numerous round circles punched out of them, plus a notation about a place far from Florida: Muscatine, Iowa.

“Among all the really impressive conch shell displays, 'Iowa' jumped out at me,” Ray says. She had no idea that Muscatine, just 45 minutes from her family’s home, had a rich button history. 

Thanks to her curious and inventive mind, Ray has a special talent for ferreting out pockets of American history and folding them into compelling stories. Her career began with a nonfiction book for young readers about the Klondike Gold Rush (Gold! The Klondike Adventure, published in 1989 and now out of print), which sent her to the Yukon Territory in search of information about 1890s gold-seekers.

“The best part is when it all comes together—the research, finding a way to tell the story and also just introducing kids to little slices of history they don’t know about,” says Ray.

It all comes together in Finding Fortune, an entertaining, often moving novel centered on 12-year-old Ren (short for Renata) and one memorable summer rife with growing pains, new friends, a decades-old mystery and Ren’s heartfelt question, “Why do things always have to change?”

In Ren’s world, the most vexing changes are family-centric: Her father’s due back soon from a military tour in Afghanistan, but her mom’s spending a lot of time with a guy named Rick. Ren doesn’t understand why nobody’s as upset as she is, and when she sees an ad for available rooms in a boardinghouse, she decides to run away—on a small scale, in terms of distance (the town of Fortune is only a few miles away) and population (down to 12 residents). 

The boardinghouse is the former Fortune Consolidated School, owned by the elderly Hildy, a one-time Pearl Button Queen (circa 1950) who’s determined to turn the former gym into a museum of the town’s vibrant button-making past. Ren also meets quirky kid Hugh, who lives in the library; handyman Garrett, who’s making a labyrinth out of clamshells on the old baseball diamond; and eccentric, soap-making sisters who live in the music room. There’s also a mystery afoot, one that dates back to when Hildy’s late father was one of the most skilled shell-cleaners in town. 

“Hildy was one of the first characters that came to me,” Ray says. “I knew I had to have a former Pearl Button Queen. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, her riding in a giant clamshell down the street.” (There are photos and historical details in the back of the book, including a fabulous shot of a lovely button queen.)

Another source of inspiration for Finding Fortune was “a modern-day ghost towns article in the Des Moines Register. It said that Iowa had more towns with [a population of] 500 or less . . . than any other state in the nation. That fascinated me.” The article mentioned the tiny town of Le Roy, as well as abandoned button-making towns along the Mississippi River. 

“There were 13 people living [in Le Roy] at the time of the article’s [publication], and by the time I got there, even fewer,” says Ray. “It was such a haunting experience to drive up and down the streets, see where the sidewalks had been, old park benches, an abandoned playground, an elementary school.”

Ray takes special pleasure in visiting places like this, imagining a deserted town in its heyday. “[It’s an] odd collection of people who end up in places like that,” she says. “So when I was writing Finding Fortune, I was imagining what kind of characters would rent out a place like [the former school], who would end up there.”

She also visited Muscatine’s Pearl Button Museum, an experience she describes with great enthusiasm: “They were very kind and gracious about spending time showing me things in the museum, and taking me to see the abandoned button factory. We wandered along the Mississippi River, and the director showed me where the old clamming camps had been.” 

As a children’s author, Ray says, “One of the most fun parts of what I do is school visits. I love talking to fourth- through sixth-graders. They have no qualms about saying, Wow! Cool! They’re not cynical at all.”

Cool, indeed: Finding Fortune will have readers marveling at Ray’s captivating, contemplative, often thrilling storytelling—and the weird, wonderful back story of something as simple as buttons.

This article was originally published in the November 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Laura Resau takes readers to the dusty, rolling hills of Oaxaca, Mexico, with her new middle grade novel, The Lightning Queen. This magical tale begins when Mateo leaves his home in Maryland to visit his grandfather in Southern Mexico for the summer. Slightly bored by his rural surroundings and the lack of an Xbox, Mateo is surprised when his grandfather asks for his help. As his grandfather tells him the story of his childhood in the 1950s, a charming and lively tale of a friendship that defies the impossible unfolds.

We asked Resau a few questions about her time in Mexico, the intriguing history of the "Gypsy" Romani people, the importance of enchanted moments and more. 

What inspired this book?
One day, when I was doing cultural anthropology fieldwork in Oaxaca, Mexico, I met a 96-year-old healer who told me enchanting stories about her encounters with the Gypsies, or Romani people. She recounted how, decades earlier, they came in caravans to show outdoor movies and tell fortunes. In her remote Mixteco village without plumbing or electricity, the arrival of the Romani was wildly exciting. After hearing her tales, I felt inspired to learn more about the Romani culture in Mexico and found myself fascinated. I became especially interested in the mutually appreciative relationship between these two marginalized cultures—the Mixteco and the Romani. In The Lightning Queen, I wove this research together with oral histories from my Oaxacan friends and my own experiences in Mixteco villages.

You spent two years living in Oaxaca, Mexico, where The Lightning Queen is set. What is it about the region that moves you?
I’m passionate about indigenous rights issues. More than half of Oaxaca’s population is indigenous, and there are more than a dozen native groups within the state. I first was welcomed into these communities as a teacher since I had a number of indigenous students at the rural college where I taught, and they would invite me to spend weekends and vacations with their families. They were kind and patient with me, helping me grow fluent in Spanish and learn the basics of the Mixteco language. I had the unique opportunity to participate in everyday activities like making tortillas as well as special rituals like healing ceremonies. I especially loved cooking and eating the local, homemade specialties, many of which have pre-Hispanic roots—mole, hot chocolate, atole, tamales, pozole. And the arts are a beautiful part of daily life—weaving palm and textiles, shaping pottery, carving dried gourds, painting little wooden animal sculptures, making dyed sawdust mosaics. I found Oaxaca to be a feast for the senses and spirit.

While Teo is a native Oaxacan, Esma, Queen of Lightning, is actually a Gypsy—a member of the Romani. I was surprised to learn that the Romani traveled so far from Eastern Europe so many decades ago! Can you tell us about the history of the Romani in Mexico?
Over the past several centuries, groups of Romani have migrated to the Americas, often to escape persecution in Europe. The greatest waves of Rom came between the late 1800s and mid-1900s. Some groups first settled in the U.S. or South America and then migrated to Mexico. The Romani do not appear in much of the written history of Mexico since they have been so marginalized. El cine ambulante—the traveling cinema—was popular work for the Romani in the mid-1900s, but after the spread of VCR’s in the 1980s, many Romani have found alternate work, like machine repair; buying and selling vehicles; and performing theater, magic and clowning.

"I’ve observed that children are often more receptive to this natural integration of magic into reality, and don’t feel the need to make a distinction between the two."

There is a strong tradition of magical realism in Mexican literature, and this is woven throughout The Lightning Queen as well. Why is magical realism important, especially in children’s literature?
As an anthropologist and writer, I try to avoid imposing my own cultural categories on the experiences of people in other cultures. Many of my friends in rural Oaxaca, especially my older friends, do not categorize their experiences as being either “magical” or “real-life.” There’s more of an open fluidity in how they describe their experiences, some of which, according to my culture’s category, might be labeled “mythical” or “magical.” I love the genre of magical realism because it respects this fluidity of human experience. 

When I was a child, I remember feeling that magic was possible and that it infused my own world. I’ve observed that children are often more receptive to this natural integration of magic into reality, and don’t feel the need to make a distinction between the two. Magical realism in children’s literature lets readers embrace this world view, and encourages them to empathize with and respect cultures and people who accept magic and reality as part of a whole package.

Oaxaca is just one of the many places you’ve traveled in recent years; what location is currently at the top of your travel wish list?
I’ve never been to Southeast Asia—I’d love to go to Laos, Cambodia and Thailand. My aunt is from Thailand and lives there now, so it’s always been on my radar, but recently I find myself dreaming of the tropical landscape, delicious food, vibrant textiles, stunning architecture and other intriguing aspects of these cultures. 

Which writer do you turn to for inspiration?
Honestly, these days, the most inspiring writers in my life are the two talented and hard-working women in my writers’ group—Laura Pritchett and Bailey Cates (who has too many pen names to keep track of!). Although they both write for adult audiences, we complement each other well. Laura is always reminding me to dig deep to find the heart of a story, to search for tenderness and not shy away from the gritty and raw. She encourages me to embrace the earthy and the spiritual at once. 

And the incredibly prolific Bailey is always reflecting on her creative process, asking herself what’s working and what isn’t, tweaking her routine here or there to make the writing flow more smoothly and feel more joyful. She makes me reflect more, in a pragmatic way, on my own writing habits. And we all give each other heaps of empathy and encouragement through the ups and downs of our writing journeys.

What do you love most about writing for a young audience?
The books that affected me most profoundly were the ones I read as a child and teen. At that time, my worldview was open and flexible enough that these stories planted seeds in me and expanded my understanding of existence. I think that as adults, we tend to be more rigid in our perspectives, and it takes more to tap into our deep empathy. I love getting emails and letters from young people who tell me that my books have changed how they see themselves or the world (in a good way!). It’s an honor to see this coming full circle in my life. 

I’ve also noticed that kids are much better than adults at laughing hysterically—with utter abandon—at the funny parts of my books. I love it when kids tell me that something in my story made them roll around giggling on the floor. It’s very satisfying, and not a reaction you’d find in adult readers.

What do you hope your young readers take away from this story?
I’d love it if they develop a fascination with other cultures and languages. I hope the story helps them care more deeply about human rights issues like discrimination and racism faced by marginalized cultures around the world. But I also hope they feel uplifted and enchanted by the fun and magical elements. It would make me happy to see readers take to heart Esma’s advice: “Give yourself a fortune and make it come true.” And I’d be thrilled if the story inspired them to strengthen their own friendships, to help each other see their talents and follow their dreams.

What are you working on next?
I’m in the midst of writing another middle grade novel, also with a Latin American setting and bits of magic sprinkled throughout. Research for this book has involved a trip to the remote Ecuadorian Amazon rain forest, and multiple trips to my local chocolate shop. I’m giving myself this fortune: that there are more rain forest and chocolate shop trips in my near future . . . 

Author photo © Harper Point Photography

With more than 150 million copies in print and three feature films, the fictional illustrated diary of middle school misfit Greg Heffley is one of the most popular franchises in publishing. BookPage spoke with Kinney about Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Old School, in which Greg suffers the injustice of life without electronics.

Ten Wimpy Kid books is quite a milestone! Did you ever think you’d make it to 10? Any plans for celebrating?
I’m very excited to get to 10! When I started off, I imagined one big fat book. Then my publisher asked me to break it into a series of three books. At the time, that seemed like a huge number to me. Ten would have been inconceivable. Now I’m thinking about 20. I’m celebrating by going on a global book tour. It’s daunting, but it should be fun.

Greg must do the impossible in the new book: survive with NO electronics. Is this even possible?!
For a modern kid (and this modern dad), it seems impossible. In fact, I just got an Apple Watch, so I’m part cyborg now. We’ve gotten a little carried away, I think.

The Wimpy Kid books avoid a heavy moral hand, but Greg’s hilarious adventures often impart a lesson. How do you find that balance?
I go back and forth on this. I don’t set out to teach a lesson in my books, but sometimes I do. In the latest book, Greg is at his Greggiest. There’s a moral lesson, but it’s subverted.

For each of the Wimpy Kid books, you write all the jokes first, and then the text. What joke kicked off Old School?
That’s right. The first joke I wrote for this book was one I ended up not using. Greg’s parents put Greg’s old baby supplies out by the curb for recycling pickup . . . including a Diaper Genie that has “Gregory” written on it.

What can you tell us about your tour for Old School?
I’m going around the world, hitting as many countries as I can in about six weeks. I did a pre-publication trip to Brazil. Next up is Japan, China and Australia.

What has been most surprising about Greg’s universal appeal?
I’ve been very surprised by the global appeal of Wimpy Kid. I always thought Greg was too American for an international audience. But it seems that Greg’s problems are universal.

You recently opened a bookstore in Plainville, Massachusetts, called An Unlikely Story. What do you love about being a bookstore owner?
I love every bit of it. I get a thrill every time I see a car in the parking lot. I think, “Wow, if we hadn’t built this building, those people wouldn’t be here.” It’s great to think there might be people whose lives are changed because they came across a book in our store that changed their outlook.

British author Cameron McAllister was inspired to write The Tin Snail after seeing a newspaper photo of three prototypes for a car called the Deux Chevaux (or 2CV) that had been hidden in a French barn during World War II and remained there for 50 years. We spoke with the author to learn more about the fascinating true history behind this exciting middle-grade adventure.

Why did these 2CV prototypes stay hidden for so long?
The simple answer is that they were too well hidden and were forgotten about! You have to remember they were never supposed to be there at all. The boss of Citroen at that time, Pierre Jules Boulanger (Bertrand, in my book), had ordered that all trace of the experimental prototypes be destroyed so they couldn’t fall into enemy hands—not merely the invading German army, but also Volkswagen, their main rival (who were busy developing the Beetle at the time). So the story goes, the 2CV models were hidden by some of the engineers who’d helped build them, but who couldn’t bear to see them lost to future generations.

Were you able to unearth many more details about this story? Which were your favorite?
Where to start? The more I delved into the true story, the more wonderful nuggets kept turning up. I particularly liked that the car’s designer, Flaminio Bertoni (Luca, in my story) was wedded to his old BMW motorbike. When they were looking for lightweight parts to use on the first prototype, they cannibalized his beloved motorbike, stripping it of its engine and other parts. It really is also true that his boss, Boulanger, insisted that the car be capable of driving across a ploughed field with a farmer and his wife and two chickens without breaking a tray of eggs or spilling a flagon of beer. Unfortunately, the first model they built exploded! The more I discovered, the more charming the whole story became. It almost wrote itself!

Did you travel to the French countryside for fact finding? Were you able to see those prototypes unearthed in the barn?
I never found the original barn, but I pile my four children into our car twice a year and drive as far south through France as we can manage in a day. This usually gets us to the Bordeaux area, where I located the fictional village of Regnac. It’s almost exactly like a village we’ve often stayed in there. The map at the front of the book is pretty much a blueprint of the real place. However, I should say that there’s no evidence that the German army ever actually arrived in the real village—that was all my own invention. It seemed too exciting a story opportunity to pass up. I loved the thought of the German Panzer commander sitting in the local bar, determined to try and find where the locals have hidden the car, not realizing that the barmaid is pulling his glass of beer with the gear stick!

Where does the name "Tin Snail" come from?
The then-boss of Citroen, Boulanger, could be quite austere and insisted that the 2CV should be as functional as possible. This was vital if it was to be affordable to the poorest farmers and artisans in France—the vast backbone of France’s population who had been so woefully neglected by the car industry. The 2CV’s designer, Flaminio, kept trying to add little stylist flourishes, which Boulanger would insist on being removed. The final prototype was made out of little more than sheets of corrugated iron with just a single headlight, but its iconic domed shape reminded Boulanger of a snail. And so the nickname “the Tin Snail” stuck. For me, it perfectly captures the car’s quirky charm!

Tell us about your own fascination with cars.
As a little boy I loved Herbie, the movie about a VW Beetle with a mind of its own. The flying Ford Anglia in Harry Potter had a lot of the same qualities, though rather more mischievous. Strictly speaking, the car in The Tin Snail isn’t magical, of course, but it definitely has its own impish personality—especially when Angelo and Camille are being chased by a Panzer tank and it almost flies across a river.

I read that two books that inspired you were Danny, the Champion of the World, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Did you reread them as you wrote this novel? I was also interested to read your mention of Shirley Hughes’ novel, Hero on a Bicycle, which sounds fascinating.
Both Danny and Chitty feature children thrown into dangerous and extraordinary adventures to rescue their fathers—and in both cases they do so by driving cars! In Danny’s case it’s an old Austin Seven, which he uses to rescue his father from the clutches of the evil Mr Hazell. I loved the bond between Danny and his father as they outwit the local establishment. It’s very much the same plucky spirit Angelo shows in The Tin Snail as he tries to help his father’s ailing career and outfox an entire German Panzer unit! Hero on a Bicycle is set in the same era, a delightful story about a boy running daring missions during the German occupation of Italy, only this time riding a bicycle. Like The Tin Snail, the danger of war is never very far away.

"In the end the story is about heroism—the villagers are willing to lay down their lives to safeguard the Tin Snail because it represents the very best of French values."

You’ve written TV scripts before, but this is your first novel. Did you have any difficulties with the transition? Did your TV writing experience make it somewhat easier to write some of the great action scenes in your book?
I love writing action sequences—I think it’s part of the big kid in me. But oddly they can be the most boring parts of movies to watch, especially with the advent of CGI. If there isn’t enough character or suspense, and if it all seems too unrealistic, it doesn’t matter how many skyscrapers you knock down, I’m not gripped. So when it came to The Tin Snail, I was very conscious of trying keep the action believable (just!). One of the most obvious transitions I found from writing TV dramas to writing a novel was that I needed to write a lot more description. In TV scripts you might only have a few stage directions because the viewer will end up being shown everything. In a book, of course, the writer must conjure everything up in people’s imaginations, which I loved.

Tell us about the genesis of your main character, Angelo. Were you at all like him as a boy?
When I was the same age as Angelo, one of my uncles (who was a policeman at the time) gave me a pair of very old handcuffs with the strict instructions I was never to use them as the keys were long since lost. Naturally, the first opportunity I got I locked them round his wrists while he lay in bed one morning. I remember hiding in a tree for several hours as first one village police car, then two more, arrived to offer assistance. Despite the attempts of the entire local police force, no key could be found. This didn’t deter my mother who proceeded to serve pot after pot of tea, turning the whole thing into a social occasion. Eventually my father managed to saw the handcuffs off. So I’ll let you decide whether you think there are any similarities between myself and Angelo.

You do a great job of maintaining tension about World War II and the advancing Germans throughout the novel, yet you manage to keep a lighthearted tone in appropriate places. Was this a difficult balance to achieve?
I was keen for the book to be uplifting and fun, but it would have been irresponsible not to reflect the reality of war at some level. The sense of the German army approaching also provides an underlying suspense—not least because Angelo and his father know that the rival car company’s spies won’t be far behind. In the end the story is about heroism—the villagers are willing to lay down their lives to safeguard the Tin Snail because it represents the very best of French values. It was also important for me that the Germans weren’t all painted as the enemy. Despite working for rival car companies, Angelo’s father and Engel, his German counterpart, end up being united by a common bond . . . their love of cars!

What do you drive? Do you have any “fun” cars, or are there any special cars tugging at your imagination?
When I worked in London, I used to ride around on a Vespa scooter, which was great fun, if a little hair-raising. Now, because we have four children, I have to drive what feels like a large truck—made by the 2CV’s rivals, Volkswagen, no less! However, I’m always on the lookout on my travels for a 2CV to buy. It seems to be only dotty old aunties who still drive them in Britain, but I’ve seen some wonderfully preserved models in France and Italy. I think the nearest British-made car to the 2CV must be the Mini (now remade by BMW, of course, and originally designed by an Italian, just like the 2CV). Or perhaps the Morris Minor. Maybe one of these will inspire my next novel!

Sometimes the best—and only—answer to difficult times is to embrace a big, beautiful imagination. In The Land of Forgotten Girls, 12-year-old Filipino Soledad lives in Louisiana with her little sister, Ming. Abandoned by their father, they live in an ugly subsidized apartment with their evil stepmother, Vea. Both Sol and Ming inherited a lively imagination from their mother, who passed away long ago, and they surround themselves with stories when everything seems hopeless.

Filipino-American author Erin Entrada Kelly grew up in Louisiana, and her mother was the first in her family to emigrate from the Philippines. In The Land of Forgotten Girls, as with her previous novel, Blackbird Fly (2015), Kelly offers a tale of hope for Filipino-American misfits.

Blackbird Fly also featured a young Filipino girl moving to Louisiana. As an author, in what ways are you drawing from your own childhood as a Filipino-American living in Louisiana?
Living as a Filipino-American in the South is much different than living as a Filipino-American on the East or West Coasts. I grew up in an area with a small Asian population and was the only Filipino in my school through college. That being said, Blackbird Fly and Land of Forgotten Girls depict very different immigrant experiences. Neither of them are direct interpretations of my personal journey—for one thing, I was born in the States—but they each draw from my life in various ways. I think that’s true for most writers, no matter what they’re writing.

How do you feel the Filipino immigrant experience is unique from other immigrant experiences?
The long and complicated relationship between the U.S. and the Philippines play an important role in the dynamics of the Filipino experience. Also, the Philippines is the third-largest Catholic country in the world and one of only two predominantly Catholic nations in Asia. According to the Pew Center, there are about 76 million Catholics living in the Philippines—roughly the same as the number living in the U.S. I’ve always found that fascinating.

The Land of Forgotten Girls isn’t your first time writing about orphans or abandoned children. Why do you think you continue to return to these types of characters?
In both books, the children nurture gifts left behind by their parents—in Blackbird Fly, Apple’s father, who died when she was three, leaves behind a cassette tape of Abbey Road, which inspires Apple’s love for the Beatles; in Forgotten Girls, Sol cherishes the power of imagination left behind by her mother, who died of cancer.

In many ways, it’s far more powerful to appreciate the gifts of people you love when they are no longer around to offer them.

Sol is forced to grow up a lot faster than most girls her age, which results in a bit of an attitude, and she even throws a pinecone at an albino girl from another school and hurts her. Why did you write a character that sometimes isn’t so likable?
Because no one is perfect.

What do you think readers will connect with most about Sol?
Her hope for something better. Her love for her sister and family. Her imagination.

“It’s far more powerful to appreciate the gifts of people you love when they are no longer around to offer them.”

Sol feels a lot of pressure to play the role of strong older sister for little Ming. But Ming’s hopefulness is one of the many positive influences that keep Sol from losing herself in the bleak conditions of their life in Louisiana. Why did you want to emphasize the power of sisterhood with this book?
Sisterhood has its own unique dynamic—complicated, beautiful, tender, frustrating. I have an older sister and the face of our relationship has changed in many ways over the years. We’re very different, but we’re also very close. I have such admiration and love for my sister. She taught me how to blow bubbles, she taught me how to roller skate, she tattled on me when I irritated her, she put a sign on her door that said No Erins Allowed, and she was there any time I needed her. Basically, all the moods a relationship can experience. I wanted to celebrate that.

Stories and the imagination play major roles in shaping Sol and Ming’s life, but the line between reality and fairy tale is sometimes blurred. Is Aunt Jove real? Does Sol really see her dead sister as a ghost? Even evil stepmother Vea isn’t all evil, as she continues to be the guardian for these two girls. Does this reflect your own experience?
In many ways, yes. I’ve been a writer all my life. I’m pretty sure I was born holding a pencil. As a little girl, I had an active imagination and spent a lot of time in my head. (And still do!) I believe the truth has many voices.

This book deftly handles issues of both race and class. What do you hope young readers take away from this book?
My goal is to write the world as it is. Although the book doesn’t overtly tackle issues of race and class, it exists on the page in many ways—subtle and not-so-subtle—which is just how it is in daily life. What I want readers to takeaway is a deeper understanding of their own world, whatever their world or that understanding may be.

What do you love most about writing for young readers?
At the risk of sounding anti-adult, I find young people to be far more interesting. They’re honest, generally unfiltered and full of lively stories and imagination. They read the books they want to read, and they’re honest about how they feel about them. No pretention. I love hearing from young readers, and I especially love hearing from young writers.

What’s next for you?
More books! My third novel is just about wrapped up and will be released by Greenwillow next year. Right now I’m hard at work on my fourth.

Author photo credit Laurence Kesterson.