Weaving together narratives from three different times and places, Alan Gratz’s Refugee offers a frank and moving account of the hopes and struggles of refugees the world over. Effortlessly melding the historical and the contemporary, Gratz’s insightful novel will intrigue children and parents alike, leaving them talking—and thinking—long after they’ve finished the last page.

Having written plays, television, steampunk, historical fiction, and on and on, how, and why, did you decide to write Refugee?
I’ve been really lucky to have a career where I’ve been free to write books about whatever I’m interested in—history, mystery, fantasy, sports—and have editors want to publish my stories. I tended to be all over the map with my books until Prisoner B-3087. That book, based on the true story of a man named Jack Gruener, who survived 10 different Nazi concentration camps as a boy, proved to be an enormous hit with middle school readers. I got so many letters from young readers asking for more stories about World War II, which led a couple of years later to Projekt 1065, a book about a boy who is a spy in the Hitler Youth.

Refugee is an extension—an evolution?—of the work I did in Prisoner, Projekt and Code of Honor, a contemporary thriller that deals with issues of what it means to be Middle Eastern in today’s America. I heard a great podcast with Jordan Peele, the writer and director of Get Out, where he called his work “social thrillers.” I love that description, and I like to think that’s a great way to describe what I’m writing now. Refugee is a book that tackles a real-life issue—the difficult lives of refugees from different eras and different parts of the world—in a story that is so action-packed that (I hope) young readers can’t put it down. 

History is full of stories of forced expulsions, or people fleeing for their lives or for better lives. How did you decide to focus on Nazi Germany, Castro’s Cuba and the plight of modern-day Syrians?
It was while looking at further stories of World War II I could write about that I ran into the story of the MS St. Louis, a real ship that carried more than 900 Jewish refugees trying to escape Nazi Germany in 1938. I was still trying to find a way into that story when my family and I came across a homemade raft on a Florida beach that someone had used to come to America in the night. That, combined with the nightly news reports about the Syrian refugee crisis, gave me the idea to write one novel that would combine, compare and contrast all three at once.

There are, unfortunately, many other refugees crises (both historical and current) that I could have written about. But those three spoke to me personally, and had clear parallels I could draw to link them through time.

With the war in Syria still raging, this book could not be more timely. Looking back on how things have developed since you completed this book, in terms of Syria, as well as the debates around refugees and immigration more generally, what do you hope young readers take away from Refugee?
My number one hope with Refugee is that young readers see these people and understand what their lives are like before, during and after their journeys. Logically, I knew that refugees were coming to this country every day seeking the safety of a new home. But I had let myself forget until I saw that raft on the beach. Forget or ignore, if I’m being honest with myself. I hope that Refugee does for young readers what that raft did for me—brings the world of refugees to life so that their plight becomes visible, either again or for the first time.

Unlike many stories for young readers, the villains in Refugee are rarely pure evil personified. Taking the Nazis that appear, as an example, we see some flatly deplorable characters, but then you also give us the Nazi youth who doesn’t rat Josef out for not wearing his arm-band. Were you conscious about that—about not painting any one group as totally inhuman?
It’s so easy to judge an entire country or race or community on the actions of their government, or their religious leaders, or their most vocal agitators. And I don’t mean in any way to excuse the actions of the Nazis, or to claim that most of the German people were just following orders. That such institutional evil was allowed not only to begin but to thrive is a scar on the German peoples’ collective soul that may never go away. (And we Americans have our own scars to bear.) But when we begin to cast our enemies as all-of-a-kind, one-size-fits-all, it allows us also to do things like lump all refugees and immigrants into similar stereotypes and molds. Throughout the book, I challenge my young readers to see each character as a unique individual, each of whom has strengths and weaknesses and dreams and fears.

What do you think refugees’ experiences have to teach us about the relations between majorities and minorities today, whether they be racial, ethnic, religious, gender or some other grouping?
By showing refugees from three different places in the world, with three different cultures and three different religions, I hope that readers will understand that at some point, everyone was the “other.” One of the things I tell students every time I talk about Refugee is that, unless they are Native American, they are all descended from immigrants. Whether your family came over on the Mayflower or on a raft last year, you’re from a family of immigrants. We forget that. We also forget that at almost every point in this country’s history various immigrant groups have been met with prejudice, scorn and violence—Germans, French, Irish Catholics, Japanese, Chinese, Italians, Poles, Africans, Mexicans. But can you imagine America today without the contributions of all those groups? And what will America be like in 100 years without the contributions of the Middle Eastern immigrants we’re turning away for purely nativist reasons? If history is any lesson, America will be lesser for it, to be sure.

How we treat people who are different from ourselves, especially when those people are religiously, politically, racially or sexually very different from us, says a lot about who we are as human beings. Will we embrace the other, even when he or she is alien to us, or will we hate that which we don’t understand? I hope that by showing how different people from vastly different backgrounds were all treated the same by different people in different eras, young readers will begin to see that any one of us could be the “other” in need of help with just the slightest change in our fortunes.

I love how your book, by focusing on three different refugees, shows how diverse and yet similar the experience of refugees can be. What made you decide to have three narratives and three protagonists instead of one? What do you think was gained from this approach? What might have been lost?
What I gained was perspective. Historical context. I think if it had been just one story, a reader could have said, “Well, that’s how everyone treated the Jews in the 1930s”; “Of course Cubans want to escape Castro, that’s a unique situation”; or, “What’s happening in Syria right now is crazy.” But by showing all three stories—and more importantly, drawing parallels between them—I could show that these aren’t unique situations. Every story may have different details, but they are essentially the same. There’s a refrain in the book: “Tomorrow. Mañana.” Each of the refugee families says it in some way. They say it like a mantra for a better tomorrow. But I’m also, as an author, saying that unfortunately, tomorrow is going to be just like today—someone, somewhere is going to leave their home seeking help, and they’re going to be turned away. Unless we break the cycle. With just one of those three stories, I would have lost that message—and that’s one of the most important things I’m trying to say with Refugee.

As heart-wrenching as parts of this novel are, for two out of the three protagonists, the novel ends if not happily, at least on a relatively hopeful note. In this fraught political climate, was it important for you to encourage young readers to keep hoping for a better future?
Yes. I’m a naturally hopeful person. I like to think the best of people, and I always expect the world will (over time—if not in the short term!) get better and better. I could never write a book as hopeless The Chocolate War (which I literally hurled across the room at a wall when I finished it!). I don’t require a Hollywood ending for every story; I’m not that naive. But I cannot write a book in which there is no hope. What kind of message does that send? I don’t sugar-coat anything, and each family sees its share of real tragedy. Their struggles are real and hard. But I hope to show that with perseverance, luck and the kindness of strangers, there can be a hopeful ending.

What upcoming releases do you have planned? And what project are you currently working on?
I’m working on a book right now called Grenade about the Battle of Okinawa. I got to visit Japan a few years back, and while I was there I met an old man who had been a young boy on Okinawa when the Americans invaded toward the end of World War II. The day of the invasion, he and the other middle school boys were pulled out of school by the Japanese army, and each one of them was given a grenade and told to go off into the countryside and not come back until they’d each killed an American. That’s my first chapter. That book is slated to come out in the fall of 2018.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our review of Refugee.

This BookPage Icebreaker is sponsored by Running Press Kids.

In her new novel, Caleb and Kit, Beth Vrabel, the award-winning author of A Blind Guide to Stinkville, captures the power of new friendship—and the complicated heartbreak of needing to let someone go. Twelve-year-old Caleb is smaller and more protected than any other kid in his grade. He has cystic fibrosis, and his single mom does her best to keep him healthy and safe (while balancing her own life, like going on dates). But this summer, Caleb wanders off into the woods rather than attend summer day camp, and he meets the nonjudgmental, wild and free Kit. But as Caleb joins his new friend on adventures, he begins to realize that Kit has troubles of her own.

Cat: This book is such a balance of tough stuff and sweetness. I don’t know if it was a phrase that you picked or your publisher picked for you, but your books are described as having “grit and heart.” This sounds like a literary mantra that totally sums up what Caleb and Kit is all about.

Beth: “Grit and heart” is very meaningful to me in that it can tell stories to children who often shy away from dealing with the reality of their lives. Their lives are very messy, very complicated. Just like an adult’s life is a delicate balance of good and bad, a child’s is as well. We underestimate the amount of strength that children have. I think of my own two children . . . you can deliver bad news to them however minute, and they jest. They move on from it. They pick up and they move forward. And I think that it’s the same for most children, that we want to protect them but we end up sheltering them. We don’t have to. They’re capable of making these connections with a strength that we underestimate over and over and over again.

Absolutely. And giving kids the opportunity to find that power is so important, but it can be hard to let them go as a parent. But I think that’s what happens with Caleb. He finds his way to his own power, but it takes some doing.

Yeah. Caleb has all the information about cystic fibrosis, about his personal challenge. He’s done the research. He’s present at the doctor’s appointment. He knows what his numbers should be. But then you have Kit, who has not been given the information. She has to draw her own conclusions about what’s going on in her life. She still finds that grit. She still finds that power, and to me, that shows how we all will draw our own conclusions if we don’t have the right information, so we might as well just give people the opportunity to know the truth. If that makes any sense.

Yes, it does. Caleb and Kit seem to balance each other. What do you think is most important about writing characters like Caleb and Kit, who are struggling to find their own power? How do you honor them while also writing their difficult stories?

I think the most important thing in undertaking something like that is to not have it be a book about that issue. I did not set out to write a book about cystic fibrosis, and I don’t think that I did. I wrote a book about Caleb, who happens to have cystic fibrosis. That was really driven home to me in the process of writing my last book, A Blind Guide to Stinkville, which features a protagonist who is legally blind due to albinism. . . . My daughter has a form of albinism, much more mild that Alice’s, the character’s. She wanted to read a book with a character who is just a regular girl doing regular things and who happens to have this shared challenge. But when we looked for that book, and then spread that search out to look for a comic book or a movie . . . everything we found was purely about being blind or purely about having albinism. These characters tended to be villains or witches, or [have] all sorts of magical components instead of just being a regular person who happened to be born with an additional challenge.

And so it meant a lot to me to portray Alice as a typical kid, and then when it came time to write Caleb and Kit, I wanted it to be a story about friendship, about being in that situation that we all find ourselves at some point in our lives, when you realize you need to break up with a friend for whatever reason.

I think you made that clear right away. On page eight of my galley, there’s a wonderful bit about how trees have to grow apart from each other to share the sun, and there’s that one line that kills: “I wondered if it hurt, twisting away from your friend like that.”

Oh, and that hurts so bad.

That is such a hard concept.

It is. And you know, we’re not taught how to do that. We’re taught to—“OK, somebody hurt your feelings, tell them it’s OK. We’re all friends here”—instead of being taught that sometimes friendships don’t work out. And that’s OK!

When I set up to write this book, it was important to me that Caleb had an additional challenge because it was so important for my daughter to have that. I wanted that experience for other children as well. So, that’s when I set out to include cystic fibrosis. That’s when Caleb became very difficult to write.

In your acknowledgements you said it was so difficult that you almost dropped the first-person perspective and went to third person. That would’ve been a big change.

That was a weak moment for sure. I know each person’s process is different, but for me, I get to the point where I can really see a character in front of me and feel what they’re feeling. I can refer to them in conversations the way I would my children. Usually at that point the story is good. It’s cooking. It’s ready to fry onto the page. But with Caleb, that became very difficult. I didn’t want this [cystic fibrosis] for him. And I had to get over that and stop feeling sorry for him. Stop having the cystic fibrosis come first and have it be about Caleb.

I feel like there were two main things that really helped balance how tough Caleb’s life is, and as we learn more about Kit, how tough Kit’s life is. First, Caleb’s mom—who is my new favorite literary mom—and second, the setting of the woods.

[chuckles] I love her.

Her relationship with Caleb is so great, and yes, he does have to rebel against her. Even the greatest moms have to be rebelled against. But she’s just fighting for him, and when he gets in these moments of self-pity, she won’t let him stay there. She is a total hero.

I really like her, too. I’m glad you said that. She’s so, so strong, and yet she still carves out some time for herself, too. For herself to have this new relationship, this new part of her life—as Caleb’s getting independence, she’s getting some, too.

The world doesn’t revolve around Caleb.

Yeah! And she makes sure that he knows that “I’m always there for you, but we have our lives, too” and . . . it’s in a much gentler, more caring way than Caleb’s dad. And then, the woods!

The woods! In so many children’s books—well, all types of literature—woods are so scary. It’s where the fear and the unknown is, and you go in there and you come out changed. Caleb comes out changed, sure, but he meets his new friend, Kit, in there. And in your descriptions of those woods, I could picture forests that I grew up tramping around in Tennessee, that were sunny and secluded and precious.

The woods were always a natural place for me growing up. I thought when I was a kid that I lived in the woods. I didn’t. We had a little creek in our backyard and a few trees, and that was my thing. That was my world. And when I was writing Caleb and Kit, I actually did have a house in the woods. We lived in Connecticut, and we could look out and see some fox running through. We had some black bears. It was a magical place for my kids to run out and play and come back holding frogs, or they’d tell me about the turkey they just saw.

It’s so natural to me that Caleb would have this wildness inside of him. He just desperately wants to make his own decisions and be free. But his life is so structured and devout, so having Kit as part of that wildness was really important to me.

I love this idea of finding a friend exactly the moment you need them. Caleb meets Kit exactly when he most needs her, and later we find out it’s mutual. Have you ever had that?

Yes, I have. We moved to Texas in March, so our kids had a month and a half of school. My son could walk to primary school, and I’d be waiting there for him, and I’d wait for him to come back. He started [hanging] with a buddy, and I met that buddy’s mom who [lived] down the street from us. She had just moved to the area, too, so we were talking about how difficult it is and how we were worried about who our kids were going sit with in the cafeteria, and how are they going find these connections? Somehow or another, she said, “I think we’ve all been there. Even if you’re an adult, sometimes I feel like that moment when you walk into the cafeteria and you wonder who’s going let you sit beside them.”

Now she and I are really great friends, and I’m so thankful that I have her. But I think that is unique. You reach this point where you are lonely and you wonder if anybody else feels what you are going through. And you think that only happens when you are kids, but it happens your whole life.

This is why I tell people, you should probably go back and read children’s books because there are some things that you still need to work on. Like finding friends at exactly the right time.

Right. I know. My mind always goes back to middle grade. It’s when you’re starting to realize your connections to a greater picture and where you belong and whether you want to fit in or stand out.

Author photo by 179 Pictures

In two new books from middle grade adventure writer Terry Lynn Johnson, survival is key.

In Sled Dog School (ages 7 to 10), 11-year-old Matt has to survive math class. Mr. Moffatt assigned an extra credit assignment that requires him to start his own business, so Matt decides to start “Matt’s Sled Dog School,” where he can teach others his passion for dog-sledding and gain the extra credit he needs for math class. While running a business is difficult, Matt finds that he is capable.

In Falcon Wild (ages 10 and up), Karma has to survive the Montana backcountry. In a quick turn of events, the 13-year-old finds herself stranded in the wilderness with a runaway boy named Cooper and her family’s rescued falcon, Stark. Karma may be young, but she has spent her whole life interacting with birds of prey and going on educational wilderness trips. She’s ready for nearly all the challenges that come her way.

These stories are relatable, exciting and empowering to young readers. Karma is a fiercely intelligent and independent young girl, and Matt learns a lot about himself and true friendship.

Author Terry Lynn Johnson with sled dogs

Johnson is not only the author of Ice Dogs, the Survivor Diaries series, Falcon Wild and Sled Dog School, but she is also a former backcountry canoe ranger, sled dog team owner and a Conservation Officer for the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry.

What is the most important thing children can learn from the outdoors?
In my opinion, learning to look after yourself in the outdoors gives you self-confidence. It teaches you that you can rely on yourself. Accomplishing something hard outdoors, such as portaging a canoe, gives you resilience—the character trait that helps you succeed in all things.

Your books include themes that perfectly target the middle grade perspective: family dynamics, school, making friends. How do you stay in tune with children of that age?
I do a lot of reading—especially books for that age group. It helps me remember my own childhood. Also I watched my stepdaughters grow up through the middle grade years. I quietly drove them around and listened to all their friends in the backseat discussing the latest dramas in school. All writers watch and listen and absorb.

Action moves fast in your books, especially when Karma and Cooper (in Falcon Wild) are lost and alone. As someone that spends a lot of time in the wild, does it really move that fast in a survival situation?
At times, things can happen within a moment. Especially in survival situations, the difference between living and dying can depend on quick reactions. Assessing a situation and determining the best course of action is essential. The need for plan B tends to progress quickly, so you should be ready.

There are moments throughout your books when you address technology: Karma’s 45-minute allotment of internet time each day or Matt’s family being off the grid. What do you hope to share about technology usage with children?
During various times in my life, I’ve lived as Matt’s family does with outhouses and propane lights. And as a kid, I had off-grid neighbors who were the inspiration for Matt’s family. The neighbors were a bit kooky and boisterous—so different from my own family. They fascinated me. When I began writing Sled Dog School, those real-life characters shoved their way onto the page. I thought it would be fun to explore that lifestyle in this story, and share it with modern readers. For Falcon Wild, it was technology—a fickle GPS—that got them into trouble. I didn’t mean for that to be a message, but perhaps that says something about the author!

You’ve been a musher and have spent lots of time in the wilderness, but what is your experience with falcons (if any)? Why did you decide to write Falcon Wild?
I’ve always been fascinated with birds of prey, starting from when I was 12 and read Hawkmistress! by Marion Zimmer Bradley. I was going to be a falconer when I grew up! But I ended up with 18 sled dogs rather than a bird. I mention this because of the similarities between the two. The bond between human and animal is the focal thing in both falconry and dogsledding. Mushers, like falconers, spend inordinate amounts of their time, energy, money and resources to be able to continue their passion. I knew this going in to the book, but when I was researching for Falcon Wild, my fascination only grew, along with my respect for the men and women who dedicate their lives to falconry. I interviewed several falconers, visited several more and even flew some falcons. Then I had falconers read earlier drafts of the manuscript. I’m so grateful for all the time they gave me. I believe falconry is a bit of a mystery to the mainstream, and there are a lot of misconceptions surrounding it—as there are with dogsledding. It was important to me to try to portray it accurately.

Matt and Karma are very young but so skilled at their crafts. Do you know of a falconer or musher who is as young as them?
There are loads of mushers who start out young. I’ve met many in my years at races and dogsledding events. Apprentice falconers have to be 14, but if you’ve grown up around birds, it would be a natural skill to have. In society today it can seem as though young people are getting away from the outdoors, but there are many out there learning, mastering and feeling a zest for life that only exposure to these real experiences can provide.

If you were stranded in the wilderness, what are three things you’d want with you?
The most important things are shelter, fire and water. I’d want tools—equipment to build shelter, fire-making tools and the ability to get clean drinking water.

What’s something about sled dogs that young readers would find most surprising?
The most common misconception is that all the dogs on a team are the same. That can’t be further from the truth. If you take a class of students and ask them about their pet dogs, some of them would have dogs that bark at visitors, some would have dogs that lick visitors to death; some dogs like to sleep, others need something to do at all times. All dogs have their own personalities, even on a sled dog team. They’re all individuals with their own unique character traits, and the goal and joy and challenge for a musher is to get the most from each member of the team. You have to really know your dogs to make sure they’re having a good time and getting what they need.

Your first book, Ice Dogs, published only three years ago and was a big success. How long has writing been a passion for you?
I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was in middle school because I’ve loved books and reading for as long as I can remember. But I didn’t start writing seriously until 2009 when I took an online course and began writing for magazines.

What’s next?
I have a few projects on the go. One is about a junior game warden with a detector dog!

With My Brigadista Year, beloved children’s author Katherine Paterson shares the little-known story of Cuba’s brigadistas: teachers who helped promote Fidel Castro’s campaign for nationwide literacy. One volunteer brigadista is 13-year-old Lora, and through her story, readers discover a complicated history of Cuba.

You thought you had retired, but then this project evolved. How did this story begin to tug at your heartstrings? And you’ve noted that this book was a “pure delight” to write, as opposed to the agony that occasionally occurs. What made this project so delightful?
It was a delight because I had forgotten how much I love the process. Suddenly I had a story that few people in this country had heard, and I wanted to share it.

“If only the people of the world would unite in causes that heal and elevate our mutual humanity and shared planet, rather than fight to destroy each other and perhaps our beautiful world.”

You’ve traveled twice to Cuba. What drew you there, and how was it? What things surprised you most? Any plans to visit again?
Both times I went to Cuba, it was at the invitation of Emilia Gallego, who runs a literacy conference every two years for folks from Latin America. She asked me to speak despite my lack of Spanish because some of my books have been translated into Spanish and have been enjoyed in Latin America.

Yes, I certainly want to go to Cuba again. I have another invitation from Emilia for next spring when she is sponsoring a conference commemorating José Martí’s 165th birthday. I’m hoping to go either then or sometime before I get too much older.

I imagine many readers will be surprised to learn how in 1961 Fidel Castro achieved his goal of making Cuba an “illiteracy-free” nation in a year (the first country in the Western Hemisphere to do so) and that Cuba continues to have one of the highest literacy rates in the world. How did your impressions of Castro and Cuban history change as you researched and wrote this book?
I knew very little about Cuban history before I visited there the first time and knew nothing about the literacy campaign. For me, as probably for most Americans, Castro was a cruel dictator who caused great suffering in Cuba and drove many Cubans to flee. I had heard about their fine universal health care system, but had trouble reconciling that with the regime I thought I knew something about. I did know that Castro had driven out Batista and the American mafia, which was a good thing, but how good was it for one dictator to simply be replaced by another?

Was it difficult—or a delicate dance—to touch on some of the history involved in this story, including U.S. involvement in Cuba, as well as the repressive regimes of both Castro and Batista? I love what Lora says in the epilogue: “My country is not perfect, but, then, is yours?”
Yes, of course. The story is written in first person by a person who still lives and works in Cuba. I was conscious of the fact that my fictional character, like my friends who live there, would tread softly when talking about the political situation in her country when writing her story for Americans. She wouldn’t want to land herself in jail, now would she?

The narrative is compelling and flows so well. How did you begin to imagine the character of Lora, and was it hard to make her first-person narration sound so authentic?
I was inspired by actual stories, but I do also believe in the power of the imagination.

Your friend Dr. Emilia Gallego, a Cuban educator and writer, was herself a brigadista and one of the many young women whose lives were transformed by the campaign. How much of her experiences and impressions did you incorporate into your novel?
I found out just before my second visit that my brave, accomplished friend Emilia had been one of the teenage literacy volunteers or brigadistas that I went on to write about. She is a very proud Cuban, but, like many, never named Castro, simply stroked her chin to indicate the bearded one. The stories in my book were inspired mostly by the interviews with former brigadistas in the documentary Maestra and the accompanying book, A Year Without Sundays, because they were translated into English. But I treasure Emilia’s response to the draft of the book that I sent to her and that our friend Isabel Serrano helped her read. (Emilia is brilliant, but not in English.) Among other things, she said that if she didn’t know me and my books, she would not believe that someone who had never had the experience could have written the book. That gave me the courage to move ahead with the project.

This was indeed a war on illiteracy, and there were some tragedies. Some brigadistas were killed, and some reports say that others were forced to go. If you had been a 13-year-old Cuban girl like Lora, would have wanted to leave home and join this literacy brigade? And if you had been a Cuban parent, would you have allowed your son or daughter to go?
I’m not that brave a person. So I probably wouldn’t have volunteered. But having had four children braver than I was at 13 and knowing what a determined bunch they are, I would have swallowed hard, prayed a lot and known I couldn’t stop them.

Near the end of the story, Lora says, “We were like an army of sharpened pencils marching into the center of the capital among our flags and banners.” Can you envision such an army of global literacy volunteers?
The photographs of that march are thrilling! If only the people of the world would unite in causes that heal and elevate our mutual humanity and shared planet, rather than fight to destroy each other and perhaps our beautiful world.

You have said that books helped you through tough times as a child, and they still help you during transitions. Have any been especially helpful lately, and before and after the death of your husband, John, in 2013?
I have found that it is hard to watch television these past four years, because the news is so bad and so insistent. I’d rather read the newspapers that deliver news more gently and thoughtfully. So I am reading a lot. I think the book that was most helpful was Final Gifts, written by two hospice volunteers. Last year I was jury chair for the NBA in Young People’s Literature and was so heartened by the number of wonderful books I read—and saddened that we had to narrow our choices down to 10, five and one. My husband was jailed in Alabama in the summer of 1965, so March: Book Three, as well as the first two volumes of Congressman Lewis’ powerful autobiography, were especially meaningful for me.

Your son David has turned several of your books into movies, and there are plans for more movies, as well as TV shows. How are things going? Wouldn’t My Brigadista Year make a wonderful movie!
My sons (John is now helping produce) certainly think My Brigadista Year would make a great movie, but in the world of independent filmmaking, the gears turn very slowly. It took us 17 years to get Bridge to Terabithia into theaters, seven years to get The Great Gilly Hopkins into a few theaters and onto on-demand sites. Let’s hope the next movie can get made and into theaters in, say, four years.

When Lora describes her grandmother as “an old woman with young ideas,” I couldn’t help but think of you. You’re 84 and seemingly as busy as ever. How does it feel to be a Library of Congress “Living Legend”? Do you and the others ever hang out?
Boy, wouldn’t I have liked to hang out with Pete Seeger? But fellow legend Judy Blume took my son, my granddaughter and me to lunch in Key West last April. It had been years since Judy and I last saw each other, but she is just as lovely and gracious as ever. I fear, however, that lovely oceanside restaurant is no more.

Are any new books begging to be written? Please!
Don’t worry: If one comes knocking, I will throw open the door.

Some sample career advice: “Fake it till you make it.” “Dress for the job you want.” “Pride goes before a fall.” Now imagine all that advice smashed together when you’re 13 years old (or maybe 9, you’re not sure) and all alone in the world, and the new job you’re prepping for is king of England.

With The Player King, inspired by a case of truth being way stranger than fiction, Avi (the author of 75-plus books, including Nothing but the Truth and Newbery Medal-winning Crispin: The Cross of Lead) shares with readers the amazing story of Lambert Simnel, a young boy in 1486 who briefly played at being an actual monarch despite having no royal blood, education or anything else that might qualify or prepare him to rule a country.

In a call to his home in Colorado, where he lives with his wife, Avi explains that it was an exciting day some 15 years ago when he came across the scant facts that inspired him to write The Player King. “I read a lot of British history,” Avi says, “and Lambert was literally a footnote. Considering who I write for, what I write and that he’s still a mystery, what could be better than that? . . . I couldn’t dream this up.”

In Avi’s hands, that footnote blossoms into a fascinating, entertaining, historically accurate story set in the late 15th century, at the beginning of the Tudor period. Henry VII has taken the English throne, even though he wasn’t next in line to reign, and angry, ousted politicians and clerics are casting about for ways to regain the power they believe is rightfully theirs.

“My own personal mantra is that writers don’t write writing, they write reading.”

Meanwhile, Lambert toils away as a scullion at Tackley’s Tavern in Oxford. His existence is an unendingly dreary one. He has no idea where his parents are, and he’s always dirty, hungry and getting yelled at, although he does maintain a wry sense of humor: “In short,” our narrator says, “my life was worth no more than a spot of dry spit.” His only joy comes from bakery runs, when he can pause for a moment to watch street performers poke fun at the royal family, and imagine what it would be like to be a player touring the country and having people laughingly bow to him.

Then, in a confusing, bizarre series of events, a friar named Brother Simonds swoops in and tells Lambert he’s not a lowly orphaned scullion—he’s the rightful king of England. At the behest of the Earl of Lincoln, the friar spirits Lambert away (after buying him from the tavern keeper) so he can train the boy to become—or at least pass for—royalty.

Avi’s singular ability to convey multitudes via carefully crafted, often spare phrases is evident throughout The Player King—but especially so at this point in the story, as Lambert marvels at and is overwhelmed by sights, smells and sensations most modern-day readers likely take for granted.

“My own personal mantra is that writers don’t write writing, they write reading,” Avi says. “I think that if you write well, and I sometimes can, you can get an emotional response just to the structure of the words. You create an image, a sense of place and being that goes beyond plot, that goes to the heart of the experience.”

Lambert’s new experiences are unceasing: When he looks out the window of his new home, “A bird flew by . . . below! I, who had spent my whole remembered life in a cellar, as if in a tomb—it made me dizzy to see such things from such a height.”

As he begins to acclimate to his new life, Lambert slowly gains confidence. There’s a different purpose to his days—and a journey ahead that will shock him—but there’s also a strange yet comforting familiarity in still being constantly reminded to obey.

“A key part of the book for me is his rumination on being told what to do,” Avi says. “He can clear a table, and also be a king. What happens when you start to believe [that] yourself? . . . It’s a little like Pygmalion or My Fair Lady, the idea that you can create this image of class and position by manipulating the surface.”

Speaking of manipulation, Avi says, “Most of the writing [of this era’s history] was done at the behest of the Tudors, who wanted to make sure nobody believed this story. And yet, [someone] did write about it, it was real. . . . It’s all about learning about the propaganda, and understanding why they were so fearful of this kid when they were the ones that created him.”

Curious readers will be glad to know that Avi provides further details of Lambert’s history in an author’s note at the book’s end. They’re tantalizing details, to be sure, but Lambert still remains largely a mystery—a story to be believed, but also to be imagined.

“ ‘The writer’s job is to imagine the truth,’ ” Avi says, quoting writer Paula Fox. “I love the idea that one imagines the truth and tries to create that in readers’ heads.”

He adds, “It’s an interesting concept, I think, that one sees more of the world when you read than you do with your eyes. That’s just extraordinary.”

This article was originally published in the November 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

(Author photo by Katherine Warde.)

Linda Williams Jackson follows up her critically acclaimed debut, Midnight Without a Moon, with a new story starring 13-year-old Rose Lee Carter. A Sky Full of Stars opens in 1955 in racially divided Stillwater, Mississippi. After Emmett Till’s murderers have been acquitted, Rose finds herself caught amid growing racial tensions and differences in opinion about political activism. How should her black community respond to police brutality and a failed justice system? Is the only answer to meet violence with violence, or can peaceful protest make a difference? Growing up during a tragic, pivotal time, Rose—who later goes by Rosa—inspires as she finds her courage and her own sense of self.

What kinds of responses did you see from readers of Midnight Without a Moon, and how does A Sky Full of Stars respond?
The overall reader response for Midnight Without a Moon has been tremendously positive. It has been a delight to hear many readers claim it as their favorite middle grade novel of 2017. When ARCs for A Sky Full of Stars began to find themselves in the hands of readers, I didn’t know what to expect. But the response has been great, with some reviewers even claiming it to be a better novel than Midnight Without a Moon, and for that I am very grateful.

What do you love most about Rosa?
What I love most about Rosa is that she can remain optimistic in the midst of trouble. With everything going on around her—the racism from the outside and the abuse from the inside—she continues to hold onto her dream that she can one day make a better life for herself.

Rosa hears of different ways to respond to the injustices in her time; some black Southerners want to march in peaceful demonstrations, while others want to use their “Fist. Feet. Guns.” What advice do you have for kids who might wonder how they should respond to injustices—in the justice system or in their day-to-day lives?
First of all, educate yourself on what is going on. Don’t rely solely on social media posts from your friends to inform you. Read the real news for yourself. Discern fact from fake, then decide what you want to do to help. Perhaps that help is by speaking out, but please do so in an intelligent, informed manner. And be respectful. Always be respectful.

Rosa’s textbooks are completely whitewashed—they don’t even mention Frederick Douglass. Even in 2017, much of black history has only begun to receive its due attention. What’s one little-known story from black history you wish all young readers could learn about?
Almost every young reader knows about Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr. and the Montgomery Bus Boycott. But one little-known story that most probably don’t know is the connection that Mississippi has with this historical event. And most young readers probably have never heard of the little all-black town of Mound Bayou, Mississippi, that was a huge part of the burgeoning Civil Rights Movement. This is the little-known story from black history that I want all young readers to learn about in A Sky Full of Stars—the history of Mound Bayou, Mississippi, and its connection to Martin Luther King, Rosa Park and the Montgomery Bus Boycott.

How do you write about historical racism for a young audience? What are the greatest challenges in doing so?
I never set out to write about historical racism for a young audience. Instead, I set out to share a story about historical racism with ANY audience, but told from a young person’s point of view. From that intent morphed a story geared toward any audience, but more targeted for a younger audience. The challenge, however, in actually writing for a younger audience is not talking down to the audience by assuming that children can’t handle difficult topics.

What do you love most about writing for a younger audience?
What I love most about writing for a younger audience is having the opportunity to tell a story from a young person’s point of view. I spend a great deal of my time around children, so what interests them interests me. Therefore, I consider it a privilege to put myself in a young person’s shoes and relive youth in the form of a story.

Will we see Rosa again?
Yes, there will be more of Rosa’s story. But mostly, I would love to see Rosa’s story in movie form or as a TV series. I think young readers would love that, too.

Childhood buds Truman Capote and Harper Lee bonded over their shared loves of big words and Sherlock Holmes stories in G. Neri’s beloved middle grade novel Tru and Nelle. They return for three Christmases in Tru and Nelle: A Christmas Story, as the two friends come of age amid troubled times in Monroeville, Alabama. These Christmases aren’t always cheery, as Tru and Nelle face family struggles, racism, the injustice of the judicial system and much more. But hope—and good friendship—finds a way.

Tru and Nelle have started to grow up here. What kinds of individual changes did you want to explore, and what kinds of changes to their relationship?
I wanted to show the arc of a friendship. The first book focused of their childhood year, but the second is really about their coming of age as adolescents. The big thing I was trying to write about was that when you move away, everything changes in a friendship while you’re gone. Especially in your teen years. If you are away for two years, that’s like a fifth of your lifetime. You are undergoing big changes, which makes reunions so difficult to navigate. By the time you may find your rhythm, you’re torn apart again and have to start all over the next time.

Why did you continue their story through three Christmases?
I was thinking about the play, Same Time, Next Year, and what a wonderful narrative device that was to show the arc of a friendship. To tell a story over three separate reunions of sorts was always there. I was also struck by the beauty of Truman’s Christmas short stories, too, and wanted to pay homage to them as well. Whereas the first book was a tribute to To Kill a Mockingbird, this one focuses more on Tru’s world and the deep love of family in the face of the lack of understanding form the outside world.

The story opens with scenes about the good old days disappearing—there’s a sense of things lost, of favorite memories slipping away before childhood has even ended—but it seems to make way for new questions for Tru and Nelle. Tough goodbyes and forts burning down sever them from parts of their childhoods, but it opens them up to adolescence. This is a messy, gradual process; why signal this transformation with such sudden and sharp events?
Look, the teen years are a tough and glorious times of upheaval and discovery. The transition can be devastating for some but always life affirming if you can make it through intact. I was trying to find physical manifestations of this inner struggle, both the pain and joy of it. I wanted to show that, while things may be tough, they will get better and you’ll be the stronger for it later on.

Among many things that unite them, Tru and Nelle are outsiders. How do you think these “differences” from the rest of their small town impacted the writers they would become?
It’s the glue that bonds them together, through thick and thin. They may be opposites from each other, but they are each other’s yin and yang, and stand together against the outside world. Their outsider status also allowed them to be great observers of small-town life since they were not popular. They turned their pains and joys into writing and produced amazing literature because of it.

I especially enjoyed the character Sook, as I grew up reading and loving Capote’s A Christmas Memory. What is your favorite event from Tru’s and Nelle’s real lives that inspired something they wrote later on?
Mostly that they acted like detectives from an early age, solving small-town crimes together. It always amused me that they were still at it as adults, and that experience informed In Cold Blood, which they collaborated on in the research phase.

The scene of the murder trial is somber but incredibly well handled for the age group. What is the best way to approach topics of racism, mental illness, the failure of the judicial system, etc. with young readers?
I always like what E.B. White said: “Anyone who writes down to children is simply wasting his time. You have to write up, not down. Children are demanding. They are the most attentive, curious, eager, observant, sensitive, quick and generally congenial readers on earth. They accept, almost without question, anything you present them with, as long as it is presented honestly, fearlessly and clearly.” I believe in being honest in a human way about these issues. Kids don’t want a lecture or a moral at the end of a story. Start a dialogue with open questions that allow the reader to form their own answers. Let them discover and draw their own conclusions. That’s what life is all about.

Will we see Tru and Nelle again? What are you working on next?
I wrote a short story about them in old age which will complete this trilogy of sorts. But now I can put them to rest (unless less someone wants to make a Netflix series about them). I have two books coming out in 2018: When Paulie Met Artie, a picture book about the childhood friendship between Simon & Garfunkel (coming in March), and a graphic novel about my cousin, the racehorse thief turned advocate, called Grand Theft Horse (late fall). I’ve also just returned from two months in Antarctica and will be beginning a new book about that adventure, starting in the New Year.

Leslie Connor has never shied away from tackling tough topics in her books for young readers—including issues that seem strictly grown-up, such as incarceration, depression and economic instability. Integrating such real-world problems into her fiction requires a deep understanding of a child’s point of view.

“My sense with middle grade books is that life is really being done to these kids—the adults are in charge,” Connor says during a call to her home in Connecticut. “But maybe for that reason, [kids] can sort of deal with it. You only know what you know. . . . You don’t fully know what’s wrong, and so you cope with what’s there.” Connor is the author of several books for middle schoolers and teens, and has even authored a picture book. In her latest novel, The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle, Mason Buttle is doing his best to cope. Ever since Mason lost his mom and grandpa six years ago, his grandma and uncle haven’t had as much energy to maintain their “crumbledown” farmhouse, and the beautiful family apple orchard has been gradually sold off to developers. Mason’s biggest tragedy, though, was the death of his best friend, Benny, in an accident for which he fears he is blamed by Benny’s dads—and by police investigator Lieutenant Baird.

Mason desperately wants to tell the truth about what happened that day in the tree house, but his brain doesn’t work like most people’s; when he tries to tell a story, his mind gets all tangled up. “My story is mixed,” he says. “Some things are past things. Some are right now.” He has trouble with reading and writing, too. Mason knows he’s not stupid—despite what his bullying neighbor might say—but how can he make other people believe the truth that’s in his heart?

Even though it’s firmly grounded in a child’s hopeful perspective, The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle could’ve been a dark, heavy tale. Fortunately, it is lightened by Mason’s distinctive, honest voice. Mason is buoyed by the important people in his life, including his grandma, who’s always happy to make him banana milkshakes; Ms. Blinny, the school social worker who introduces him to new technology that helps him overcome his fear of storytelling; and his new friend Calvin Chumsky. Calvin and Mason are opposites in many ways, but their individual skills and different ways of viewing the world balance one another perfectly.

“Calvin and Mason both have something to offer each other. I think that can happen for real,” Connor says. “I remember hearing two kids playing on the beach, and one of them knew the physics about waves and everything, and the other one was just pretending to dive with sea monsters—seeing and understanding the world in two totally different ways, but being friends regardless.”

“A lot of kids could be learning more or better outside. . . . It is who they are.”

Connor also views her novel as participating in the “No Child Left Inside” movement, which encourages environmental education for children; while Calvin may be perfectly happy to play indoors and work on his tablet, Mason only comes into his own and thrives when he’s outdoors. “I do feel that a lot of kids could be learning more or better outside, because it just suits them better,” Connor says. “It is who they are.”

Mason and Calvin’s complementary talents are most on display when they solve problems and tackle challenges together, whether that means outsmarting neighborhood bullies or transforming the crumbledown’s derelict root cellar into a cozy hideaway inspired by the prehistoric caves of Lascaux in France. Sanctuaries are important in Connor’s novel, whether it’s a tree house, an underground den or the safe haven of Ms. Blinny’s office.

“I was constantly making those types of spaces for myself,” Connor says of her own childhood. “There were always kids building forts and linking them together. I love that sense of building things and creating spaces, and I know that these days, kids mostly are doing that only at the computer. I sense a little bit of a loss there; building things with your hands is really important. I think we’re all fort-builders at heart.” Now, Connor says, she creates her “forts” by building worlds and characters in her novels.

Along with everything else that’s happening in this rich, rewarding story of friendship, loyalty, justice and new beginnings, it’s also a wonderful dog novel. Mason absolutely adores Moonie Drinker, the dog next door (who happens to belong to Mason’s nemesis), and Moonie loves Mason right back. Mason’s bond with Moonie Drinker—along with his intimate knowledge of the family apple orchard and his facility for building things with his hands—helps Mason gain confidence and courage when he needs it most. Connor, who has three rescue dogs of her own, modeled Moonie Drinker after her dog Atticus: “He’s just a really happy dog. Dogs are just like people, in that they come with different personalities—serious, moody—and he’s just a really happy dog. He seems to know when to offer comfort, too.”

Moonie Drinker, Calvin and Mason will remain in readers’ hearts long after they finish The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle. Even Connor admits that she’s particularly fond of her protagonist: “He’s very close to my heart somehow.” Readers lucky enough to get to know Mason will certainly feel the same.

Norah Piehl writes from Belmont, Massachusetts. Her childhood hideaway was a walk-in closet so big that, rumor has it, a previous owner rented it out to college students as a bedroom.

This article was originally published in the February 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Author photo by J.F. Connor

When Newbery Medal-winning author Sharon Creech and her husband moved to coastal Maine six years ago, they knew the change would be good for their family. Several books later, it seems the move has also been a boon to Creech’s writing.

Creech’s adult daughter, her husband and their two children also settled in Maine, and Creech’s 2016 novel, Moo, dramatized her granddaughter’s experience of helping raise a cow with their new hometown’s 4-H Club. After that, Creech’s granddaughter and grandson cared for rescued lambs, which inspired Creech’s new middle grade novel, Saving Winslow―although this time the writing involved some negotiations.

“They’re so cute,” Creech says, speaking by phone from Maine. “The grandchildren would be sitting in chairs, holding a little lamb, trying to get the bottle in their mouth, and the looks on the children’s faces were just like you see with a mother and a newborn. Just witnessing that simple, pure kind of transaction has made it all worth our while to move to Maine, to be close to them and to witness this.”

When Creech mentioned to her daughter and granddaughter that she wanted to write about the lambs, they both said no—they wanted to write that story themselves. “They’re both really good writers, so I think they will do it one day,” she says. Creech decided to draw on their experiences but to write about another animal instead. When family members sent her a video of a miniature donkey swinging in a hammock, she was hooked.

However, Creech was still thinking about her granddaughter’s first rescue lamb named Winslow, so she countered with, “Can I at least use the name?” This time the answer was yes. With all the makings of an instant classic, Saving Winslow is one of those seemingly simple animal stories that is beautifully understated yet emotionally complex, bringing to mind the beloved tales of E.B. White and Kate DiCamillo. Told in exceedingly short, riveting chapters, it’s the story of a young boy named Louie who cares for a struggling baby mini donkey.

“I try to get in this very tranquil place in my mind.”

Louie is also learning to navigate life without his beloved older brother, Gus, who is serving overseas in the army. Louie meets a girl named Nora, who’s dealing with her own family tragedy. “Somehow Louie felt that saving Winslow would also save and protect Gus, like the two were connected somehow,” Creech writes.

“I constantly return to themes of grief or letting go,” Creech says, noting that she wrote her first book the year after her father died. A stroke six years before had robbed her father of his speech. “So it felt like my obligation to use all those words that I could see that he wanted to say but couldn’t. I’m probably always going to be touching on these kinds of themes, all of those things that are crucial elements of life.”

Creech concludes that writing about a donkey instead of a lamb ended up being for the best, making the novel “almost funnier” and “less likely to get treacly.” Creech adeptly avoids sappy pitfalls, describing, for instance, a baby boy who lives next door to Louie as having “a tangled curly blob of black hair that looked like a burnt cauliflower had exploded there.” Small details like these, combined with the novel’s structure as a whole, make Saving Winslow a master class in superb writing.

Over the years, working in both poetry and prose, Creech acknowledges that her writing process has become increasingly succinct, partly to allow her time to pursue family obligations and other interests. She now usually writes for about three hours in the morning, having fine-tuned her routine.

“I try to get in this very tranquil place in my mind,” the author explains. “I think that comes from writing almost every day for 20 years. You have your cup of tea. You have your little chocolates. You tell your husband that you are going to be incommunicado for a couple hours. You put the phone away. And then I just sort of sit there, and I’m relaxed. I look at what I did the day before, and then I just go.”

Creech is currently having what she calls “an interesting relationship” with a new project that’s “driving [her] crazy.” So far, it’s written in prose, and it doesn’t feature animals, although “there’s a character who thinks about animals.”

Should she need a diversion from writing, she has a steady stream of fan letters that arrive frequently. She keeps some favorites nearby, such as a note from a boy who recently informed her, “If I had time, I still would not read, but I might write poems or something. I would hopefully have something better to do than read, but I might read. But if I liked to read, I would probably read your books.”

“There’s something in his voice,” Creech says of the backhanded compliment, chuckling. “I want to write his story.”

Such honest letters are refreshing, she admits, “particularly when you’ve waded through 50 or 100 or so from the more rote ones, where they’re being very correct and polite. It’s a relief―like a real person.”

Meanwhile, life beckons outside of her office door. “We’re very, very glad we made the move here,” she says. “We’re loving Maine so much.”

Coastal Maine has been home to many authors and illustrators, including none other than the late E.B. White, who lived and wrote from his home in Brooklin, Maine. Creech, a longtime fan, says she’s become re-immersed in his writing. “You know,” she says, “now I really understand where all that was coming from, his affiliation with animals and his understanding of them.”

This article was originally published in the September 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Author photo by Karin Leuthy.

This BookPage Icebreaker is sponsored by Candlewick.
 

Mega-bestselling author Megan McDonald’s Judy Moody series is beloved by readers all over the world—Judy made her big-screen debut in 2011’s Judy Moody and the Not Bummer Summer and she now stars in two additional spin-off book series. The 14th installment, Judy Moody and the Right Royal Tea Party, follows the outspoken third-grader on her quest to complete her family tree. But when Judy uncovers her family’s English roots, she gets a little (or a lot) carried away with dreams of royal relatives and fancy tea parties. 

We spoke with McDonald about Judy’s enduring popularity, what she loves about her fans and her ideal tea party fit for a queen.

Judy Moody is such a beloved series for young readers. What was the initial inspiration for the character?
The original idea was to showcase moods. What better way to demonstrate a range of moods than through an 8-year-old? I combined that idea with stories inspired by my own childhood growing up with four older sisters.

Judy has been having adventures since 2000! After all these years, what do you love most about her?
Her resilience. No matter how many setbacks and disappointments she goes through, she always seems to bounce back with enthusiasm and creativity.

What are some of your favorite interactions you’ve had with young readers while on book tours or during school visits?
Third-graders crack me up! I meet a lot of readers who have created their very own “I ATE A SHARK” shirts. My heart skips a beat when I see this because it points to how much they connect with and relate to Judy Moody in their own lives.

Judy throws a tea party fit for royalty—and she gets a bouncy castle! What would your ideal tea party be like?
At my ideal tea party, they would serve hot chocolate! Hardee-har-har. There would be miniature teacups, purple streamers, fortune cookies and cool party favors (like sock monkey keychains and troll doll pencil-toppers), and cootie catchers would complete the party. Oh, wait, did I mention Hula-Hoops?

Do you have any royal relations in your own family tree?
As far as I know, no royal rat catchers in the McDonald family tree!

What’s the most rewarding part of writing for young readers?
Discovering that one of my books has turned a child into a reader.

What lesson do you hope young readers take away from Judy’s brush with royalty?
Family and connection with one another is what’s important, royal or not.

Any idea what Judy’s next adventure will be?
Judy, Stink and company go crazy for books as they prepare to face a formidable opponent in a funny book-quiz competition.

Vermont is a place where the boundaries between past and present are porous. And at no time is that more evident than in autumn, when ghosts are on everyone’s mind.

“One fun thing about Vermont is that you can be running through the woods and just stumble over a random graveyard,” says Katherine Arden, who lives near Vermont’s Green Mountain National Forest. “They’re everywhere, and there’s a very powerful sense of history because people have been farming this part of the country since the 1700s.”

Arden’s name may be familiar to adult readers who are fans of her novel The Bear and the Nightingale and its sequels in the Winternight trilogy (the finale is set to publish next year), set in a magic-infused version of medieval Russia. Her first middle grade novel, Small Spaces, is similarly epic in scope, but it is also deeply imbued with the landscape and traditions of Vermont. “I had so much fun filling the novel with the things I see every fall near my home,” she says. “Corn mazes, scarecrows, haunted houses—these are part of the fall landscape here.”

Small Spaces opens when 11-year-old Olivia (Ollie), a book lover who’s recently lost her mom, comes into possession of a mysterious old book, also titled Small Spaces. As Ollie reads the creepy old story of a family torn apart by loss and regret, she begins to recognize references to local names and places. Readers may begin to see other connections between Ollie’s life and the ominous scenes that play out in the book. “A strange and disturbing family history offers a parallel to Ollie’s own experience of dealing with loss and gives a weight and perspective to her journey,” Arden notes. “History does teach us things, especially if you read it seriously and intentionally—and Ollie learns to make different choices than a previous generation did.”

But those lessons are hard won, especially during Ollie’s class field trip to a local farm. She starts to suspect that something is very wrong, especially when their school bus breaks down as a dense fog descends. And are those scarecrows getting closer?

Ollie decides to strike out on her own instead of waiting for trouble to catch up with her. Arden suggests that Ollie’s bravery comes partly out of her experience with loss and grief after the death of her mom: “Ollie’s loss makes her feel so separate from her classmates. They don’t understand what she’s been through, and so she no longer cares what they think. She’s able to make decisions and take actions independent of her classmates, which is something that’s very hard for a middle schooler.”

Ollie isn’t alone in her journey, as she is reluctantly accompanied by her new friends Brian and Coco. Like Ollie, Arden enjoys breaking down middle school stereotypes, or “boxes,” in the characters she’s created. “I wanted to come up with characters who aren’t so easily defined,” Arden says. “I also wanted to change how boy-girl friendships are depicted. In books, so many kid trios are two boys and a girl. I wanted the guy to be the odd person out.”

Without giving too much away, Ollie, Brian and Coco are in for more than a little horror as they flee for their lives and eventually try to make a bargain that will save their classmates. Readers are likely to find Small Spaces to be the kind of book that will, as Arden suggests, “make them scared to get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

“Even if things are ominous, as long as they resolve in a way that’s uplifting and satisfying, I don’t really feel like I have to restrain myself.”

So how scary is too scary when it comes to spooky stories for young readers? “It’s great to read scary books when you’re young,” Arden says. “It’s a way to deal with fears in a safe environment. It’s kind of fun to be that afraid, and to know that you can always close the book.”

Other than ensuring that she didn’t paint any truly gruesome scenes or disturbing images, Arden didn’t hold herself back when it came to creating a terrifying mood. “Tension and dread are fine—the problem [is] if you make it not be OK at the end,” she says. “Even if things are ominous, as long as they resolve in a way that’s uplifting and satisfying, I don’t really feel like I have to restrain myself in the narrative. It’s a safe fear.”

Arden says she enjoyed incorporating elements of some of her favorite books into Small Spaces, from subtle nods to portal fantasies like Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and The Chronicles of Narnia to a Japanese folktale called “The Boy Who Drew Cats,” which provided direct inspiration for the repeated advice in the novel: “Avoid large places at night . . . keep to small.” Like Ollie, Arden admits she was a voracious reader from a young age. “I remember that feeling of the real world just not existing while I was in the pages of a book,” she says.

With the novel’s condensed time frame, Vermont setting and young characters, the writing process of Small Spaces presented a different set of challenges to Arden than she’s previously faced—differences that helped her grow as a writer. “Writing this book was pleasurable,” she says. “Changing pacing, tone, mood, everything—it helps keep you fresh as a writer, and it can be inspiring, giving you scope to play with ideas you might not otherwise have a chance to explore.”

It’s lucky for readers that Arden enjoyed her first foray into middle grade horror, because Small Spaces is the first in a quartet that will continue the stories of Ollie, Coco and Brian. Each book will be tied to a different season and to different iconic locations in Vermont. Small Spaces is the fall book, of course, and the winter book (which Arden is writing now) is set at a “down at the heels” ski resort that happens to be haunted.

Arden won’t say much about what happens next, except that “mayhem ensues.” In the meantime, Small Spaces is sure to provide plenty of shivers of its own.

This article was originally published in the October 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Author photo by Deverie Crystal Photography.

Debut author Marie Miranda Cruz shines a light on the forgotten children of Manila’s cemetery slums in her hopeful middle grade novel, Everlasting Nora. When 12-year-old Nora wakes to find her mother missing from their makeshift grave house—the mausoleum where Nora’s loving father was recently buried—she finds a wellspring of resilience and strength and teams up with her caring and supportive neighbors to find her and bring her home. Filled with vibrant details of life in the Philippines and brought to life by a wealth of Tagalong phrases, this is a unique story that will bring American readers face to face with a beautiful island nation that has strong cultural ties to our own. We asked Cruz a few questions about her memories of living in the Philippines, the importance of Filipino-American literature, what she’s working on next and more.

What was your initial inspiration for Everlasting Nora?
I decided I wanted to write a children’s novel a little over 10 years ago. I had written a short story about a pair of Filipino brothers and their strange encounter with a goblin on the night of All Saints Day in a cemetery and thought I could expand this into a novel. So I began doing some research on cemeteries in the Philippines. During my research, I came across a blog post written by a missionary about his trip to Manila. While there, he met an orphan named Grace who had been abandoned by her mother. She begged in the streets for money to buy food and slept wherever she could find safe shelter in the cemetery where other squatters lived. Eventually, Grace died all alone in a charity hospital. I was so moved by her plight that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I wondered how she coped with being abandoned and what she did to survive. I wondered if she had friends. This was when I began weaving together Nora’s story.

Readers may be unfamiliar with Nora’s makeshift home in one of Manila’s cemetery shantytowns. Have you visited one of these communities, and if so, what was your experience?
I haven’t been inside any of those homes but I have seen them while traveling through Manila. It’s heartbreaking to see so many people living in such desperate conditions.

Although there are more than 3 million Filipino Americans living in the U.S., there aren’t nearly enough stories with Filipino protagonists that are set on the islands. Are there other Filipino authors that have inspired you?
Definitely! I love Erin Entrada Kelly’s books. She is the first Filipino-American author to publish books for children with Filipino protagonists. Her novels are beautifully written. She fills the lives of her characters with wonderful Filipino cultural details. After reading Blackbird Fly and The Land of Forgotten Girls, I knew I had to hold on to my dream that my own books with Filipino main characters would someday be published. Another favorite of mine is Mae Respicio. Her novel, The House that Lou Built, debuted last June. It’s a story set in Northern California about family, friendship and home.

What details about Filipino culture were you excited to include in your novel and bring to a wider audience?
Many Americans know about Filipino food and how much Filipinos love to feed anyone who walks through their front door, so of course, I had to include mouth-watering descriptions of dishes like pancit and arroz caldo in my book. I was excited about showing what it’s like to walk the streets of Manila and the people you’d encounter there. More importantly, I wanted to show Americans (and the world) the dynamics of family and community in the Philippines. A dynamic reflected in Filipino families all over the world. One of the basic tenets of Filipino culture is bayanihan. The word essentially means community—people working together and sharing goods and services with one another. For example, in my novel, Nora and her mother help Jojo and his grandmother with their laundry in exchange for water Jojo fetches for them.

The other important cultural aspect I wanted to include in the book is pakikisama, which means doing what you can to get along with those around you, and it is how Filipinos adapt to social situations. Nora recalls what it was like for her and her mother to live with her father’s aunt. They do what they can to blend in, to adjust to the day to day rhythms of their aunt’s family. These two aspects lie at the heart of Filipino culture.

Although Nora is hesitant to open up to others living in the cemetery, her neighbors Lola and Jojo rally around her during a crisis and feel like family by the end of the story. The concept of found families is so important for many children, yet it still feels like this is rarely highlighted in children’s stories in the U.S. Why did you center your novel on this concept?
My memories of growing up in the Philippines helped inform much of Nora’s story in terms of her relationships with family and friends. After my father retired from the military, we moved back to the Philippines and we lived in my mother’s family compound. My mother’s two sisters, brother, and their families lived there. I remembered my mother and aunts cooking together, how they would go to market for each other and how they spent afternoons with one another playing bingo or having manicures. I remembered my older cousin, Cesar, who used to make moccassins for me and my younger cousins out of remnant cuts of leather. This was a special time in my life.

Another memory that influenced this concept in my novel belonged to my mother-in-law. Both my in-laws came to the U.S. as physicians in the ’70s. During their years of residency at a hospital in Camden, New Jersey, they had kind neighbors who looked after their children while they worked long shifts. The spirit of community within my extended family and between my mother-in-law and her neighbors is what exemplifies the bayanihan and pakikisama aspect of Filipino culture I wanted to share in my story.

This story is filled with delicious-sounding descriptions of Filipino cuisine. What’s your favorite local dish, and what memories from your own childhood in the Philippines is it tied to?
I have lots of favorites! But if I had to choose one, especially one associated with fond memories of my childhood, it would be halo-halo. This is a delicious, sweet, icy, milky concoction usually eaten for Merienda, which is an afternoon snack time practiced in the Philippines as well as in Southern Europe and Central and South America. I remember going to neighborhood Merienda stands with my own glass where they would spoon sweetened beans, sugar palm fruit, tapioca balls, nata de coco (a delicious jelly made from fermented coconut water—sounds weird but it’s so good) and ripe jackfruit into the glass. Then they would fill it with shaved ice, packing it in tight, and drench it in evaporated milk. Halo-halo comes from the Tagalog word “halo” which means “mix,” so the way you eat halo-halo is to take a spoon and mix it all together. It makes a hot afternoon so much better!

What conversations do you hope Everlasting Nora opens in classrooms and in homes?
I hope it inspires conversations that center on empathy and the importance of community, kindness, and how these aspects can be a beacon of light in a world already full of darkness.

What do you hope your young readers take away from this story?
Once again, empathy and awareness of how people live in other countries. I hope Nora’s story inspires curiosity and a desire to know more about the Philippines and its history, and perhaps even visit someday.

What are you working on next?
I’m working on my next middle grade novel! It’s about sisters who reunite on an island resort. It’s a story of friendship, sisterhood and healing with a little Filipino mysticism mixed in.

This BookPage Icebreaker is sponsored by Candlewick.

In T.R. Simon’s honest, humorous and equally heartwrenching middle grade novel, Zora and Me: The Cursed Ground, a young Zora Neale Hurston and her best friend, Cassie, investigate a town secret that is tied to their community's roots in slavery. Alternating between Hurston’s childhood in Eatonville, Florida, in 1903 and the horrors experienced on a nearby plantation in 1855, this is an important and poignant story that is sure to become popular in classrooms. We spoke with Simon about the importance of Hurston's legacy, honestly discussing the dark parts of American history, the joys of girlhood friendships and more.

What was your first experience with Zora Neale Hurston’s writing, and how did it influence you as a writer?
I discovered Zora Neale Hurston my sophomore year in college when I read Their Eyes Were Watching God. I remember coming alive to the words and how completely they conveyed the feelings of a young black woman in the rural south. It was also my first experience reading a book that posed and answered questions that made me know it was a book for precisely the kind of black girl I was.

As I researched Zora’s life, I learned that she was not only a novelist and playwright but also an ethnographer, a folklorist and an intellectual adventurer. I longed to understand the world, so I studied anthropology in graduate school, just like Zora. Unlike Zora, it took me a long time to own my desire to write, and then a bit longer to act on it.

There are some very honest and nuanced, yet graphic descriptions of slavery and physical abuse in this story. Did you feel it was important to fully investigate these horrors for your readers, which are so often glossed over in classrooms?
I don’t shy away from the physical brutality of slavery because it happened and because it is a reflection of the emotional brutality at the heart of the institution. Sadly, slavery is a ubiquitous fact of human existence and it has taken many forms throughout history. The race-based caste system of American slavery was particularly physically brutal. Black folks were seen as an ultimate other, so other that we were no longer considered human. Declared apart from the race of “man,” slaveholders believed we felt no pain, so action against our minds and bodies was not an action against a person. American slavery cannot be fully understood without understanding the hateful interpersonal logic that undergirded it. Glossing over the physicality of slavery allows it to become abstract, theoretical. By making the bodies of those impacted by slavery part of the story, I hoped to make the horror more personal, to force my reader to take a moral position. I was also careful not to make the slaveholders in this story mustache-twirling villains. And that is ultimately the point: Very regular people did very brutal things to other human beings under slavery. If we can’t understand that, we are at great risk of repeating the past.

What kind of conversations do you hope this novel opens up in classrooms and in homes about the ripple effects of slavery and the Jim Crow era?
I think we’re living in a very polarized time and many of today’s most pressing cultural disagreements are still rooted in American slavery. As Faulkner so famously put it, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” In order to understand who we are as Americans, we must understand the history of America, and we have yet to do justice to an understanding of the hard parts of that history. We need more writing on genocide, slavery, Jim Crow and internment to sit side by side with the deeply researched and documented works on the Declaration of Independence, the American Revolution, the Civil War, and World Wars I and II. America was a slaveholding nation that also gave birth to modern democracy, which means freedom has been a very complicated issue for America since its inception. Slavery and Jim Crow sit in direct contradiction to the stated aim of the Declaration of Independence. The degree to which the idea of American democracy has shined like a beacon in the world is also due to the ways in which African-American bids for freedom and equality have shaped it. We can’t fully understand one without the other. These conversations and tensions are ongoing, and so our need to unpack this history is ongoing.

What do you love most about writing mysteries for children? Did you have a favorite mystery as a kid?
When I was young, my mother and I would watch all the detective shows together—“Ellery Queen,” “Cannon,” “The Rockford Files,” and “Columbo.” My favorite board game, hands down, was Clue. Nancy Drew, Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple, Lord Peter Wimsey, Harriet Vane and anything by Wilkie Collins was my go-to reading. I loved superheroes and comics, too, but none of the caped crusaders could hold a candle to the superpower of brilliance. And that made Sherlock Holmes the unrivaled greatest superhero of all. I loved the idea that a person, using only their mind, could make narrative sense of purposeful subterfuge or an unlikely series of events. The power of observation and logic restored truth and justice in every mystery I read and that appealed to my young sense of karmic balance.

What is it about Hurston’s childhood in the South that sparked this series of novels? Did you grow up in the South yourself?
I’m from Washington D.C., and my father’s people are from North Carolina. My grandmother died before I was born, and I only met my grandfather once before he passed. I was three and we went to the house my father bought his parents with his World War II soldier’s pay. It was a little cottage sitting on the land they farmed, the land they had once picked cotton on. I remember how dark the night was and the sandy quality of the soil. I also remember my grandfather’s booming laugh as he bounced me on his stiff knees. His life, before he passed, bore a direct relation to the kind of childhood Zora had, in both the simplicity of living and the intricacy of the relationships between the people who lived with and near him. In writing about Zora and the turn of the century, I’m excavating a piece of my own agrarian history, my own connection to those Southern black folks whose whole lives depended on the land they stood on.

What do you love most about Carrie and Zora’s friendship?
I love that Carrie and Zora love each other. I love that Carrie sees everything that is special and complicated and brilliant about Zora, and that even when the sharp edges of Zora’s mind push Carrie out of her comfort zone, she’s willing to change and adapt for the sake of their friendship. I love that Zora sees Carrie’s fears and weaknesses and pushes her to be the very best version of herself that she can be. And I love that they are stronger and more whole because of their relationship. I think healthy, strong girlhood friendship is like a forcefield. Not only does it sow the seeds for supporting women in the future, but it lays the groundwork for self-respect in childhood. Good friends make each other better people. Zora and Carrie are better people for knowing one another.

What’s the most surprising fact you’ve learned about Hurston during your research and writing process?
Zora’s life is the most surprising fact of all: That a black girl from the Jim Crow south would come to be recognized as one of the great literary minds of American letters is a testimony not only to her ambition and brilliance but the powerful and enduring legacy that is the hallmark of book writing. Zora herself is a beautiful self-invention, and because she committed that invention to paper, we are blessed with the possibility of visiting with her mind through her books and letters.

What do you hope young readers take away from The Cursed Ground?
Last year, my daughter’s sixth-grade class was taught a relatively conventional story of slavery—that it was bad, that white people were trapped in an unjust system with black people, that it was passed down generationally, that it could not be ended until the nation engaged in a civil war. In Zora and Me: The Cursed Ground, I wanted to tell my daughter a different kind of story about slavery. I wanted to tell her a story that emphasized how participation in a system of injustice is always a choice for those who have power, that tradition is a choice, that complicity is a choice. I wanted her to understand the relationship between master and slave as a daily choice to dehumanize those we might otherwise respect, befriend, or even love. I wanted her to consider the idea that our humanity resides in our ability to see other human beings as people with the same feelings we ourselves have, and to actively choose in favor of their wellbeing as we wish them to choose in favor of ours. Slavery was not self-sustaining: It had to be enforced minute by minute, and each act of suppression represented a choice. When we understand that, we become capable of understanding just how much agency we do possess. We become free to choose love over hate, tolerance over intolerance, and genuine freedom over the privilege produced through oppression.

What are you working on next?
Right now I’m playing with the outline of a historical novel about the aftermath of violence. It’s about a young black girl forced to piece her life back together after a riot. I want to examine how we’re shaped by violence and loss, and how human resilience allows us to overcome the things that were meant to destroy us. It’s easy to invoke love, but how do you put love back at the center of your life when hatred has taken away everything you love? It’s a story about hurt and healing and how we come to have and sustain hope not just for ourselves, but for our communities. And there is a crow. A very singular crow.