Sixteen-year-old D.J. (short for Darlene Joyce) Schwenk’s family knows a lot about two things: football and farming. Dairy farming, to be exact. D.J.’s dad even names his cows after famous NFL players and coaches. D.J.’s two older brothers, football legends in their small Wisconsin town, are now in college on football scholarships, but they no longer talk to D.J.’s family after an argument that led to the silent treatment. Silence is actually a big problem in D.J.’s family: If there’s a problem or something, instead of solving it or anything, we just stop talking. Just like cows. D.

J. herself is getting frustrated with the whole farming thing. Her dad’s too stubborn to have surgery on his hip, so D.J.’s stuck with the milking and haying. D.J.’s mother and younger brother aren’t much help, either; they seem to have secrets of their own, and of course no one’s talking to anyone else.

Then, out of the blue, Brian Nelson enters D.J.’s life. The quarterback for a rival high school, Brian is sent to the Schwenk farm by his coach to learn a little discipline and hard work. At first, D.J. can’t stand Brian, who seems to spend all his time talking on his cell phone, shirking his duties and blaming other people for his problems. When D.J. uses her own football knowledge to train Brian, though, she discovers another side to him, a side that gets D.J. talking and thinking about her own life like never before.

This funny, heartfelt first novel features a heroine and a setting unlike most other novels for teens. D.J. is honest and smart, a normal-sized girl who can value her strength and her skills without obsessing about her weight, her clothes or her makeup. Humorous details about farm work and small-town life, recounted in D.J.’s own down-to-earth tone, help to paint a realistic picture. The novel doesn’t shy away from portraying small-town prejudices and loyalties in equal measure, giving readers a glimpse into a way of life that’s virtually invisible in most other young adult fiction. Norah Piehl is a freelance writer and editor in the Boston area.

In the late 21st century in the USSA United Safer States of America safety is paramount. Citizens of the USSA live longer than in any other country, but 24 percent of all adults are in prison, and the economy depends on their labor. McDonald’s Rehabilitation and Manufacturing is the largest employer in the nation, running prison farms, factories and restaurants.

Sixteen-year-old Bo Marsten has been at odds with this society, and now he is in trouble with the three-strikes-and-you’re-out spirit of the times. He threw a pencil in class, called someone a name and shoved a fellow student in the hallway, all very unsafe behaviors. This in a society where a person can be sent away for dropping an apricot if someone slips on it, where everyone must wear walking helmets, where walls are padded and freeways automated. Now Bo has been falsely accused of causing a rash afflicting students at his school. He is arrested and sent to work in a pizza factory in the middle of Canada, now an annexed property of the USSA after the Diplomatic Wars of 2055.

Escape seems impossible, as vicious polar bears roam outside the gates and a sadistic warden rules within. But escape does come with the help of a computer-generated artificial intelligence named Bork, and Bo journeys across 26 miles of no man’s land to return home.

In his latest novel, National Book Award-winning author Pete Hautman has created a fascinating satire of where society’s current trends might lead us. The humor is often coarse, with plenty of farting, faces compared to dog anuses and the like. But there is friendship in the form of an overweight cellmate, incarcerated for eating too much and sentenced to lose 200 pounds, and a family relationship that becomes important, as Bo comes to appreciate his grandfather’s criticism of the modern times and the glory of his beer-drinking, less safe past. This fast-paced, plot-driven satire will appeal to young teenagers who enjoy the what if? speculations of futuristic novels. Dean Schneider teaches middle school English in Nashville.

<b>Understanding a sister’s suicide</b> For 16-year-old Leila Abranel, dyslexia is both a curse and a blessing. Sure, she has to struggle to finish reading a novel and to remember the difference between right and left. But her dyslexia also forces Leila to slow down, to take her time, to ask questions before making decisions: Dyslexia has taught me that clarity comes only through effort, patience, and help from those who know how to give it. When Leila’s older sister Rebecca commits suicide, Leila is convinced that she can use that effort and patience to discover why, to answer the many questions that arise after her sister’s death, to finally get to know her family’s long and complicated history. She starts by moving in with her other sister Clare, who, like Rebecca, is more than 20 years older than Leila. The two sisters progress from almost-strangers to almost-friends as they cope with Rebecca’s death in different ways.

As part of her quest to discover the truth about Rebecca’s suicide, Leila gets a part-time job at a cafe Rebecca frequented just before her death. In between serving up cappuccinos, Leila gets to know Eamon, a fascinating older man, who, when he learns Leila’s true age, decides that they should remain just friends in spite of their mutual attraction. As Leila learns that the story that matters might not be the one leading up to Rebecca’s death but the one that is still happening, she also comes to realize that love creeps in despite our best intentions.

Garret Freymann-Weyr, whose previous novels include the Printz Honor winner <i>My Heartbeat</i> (2002), has created in Leila an unusually reflective and insightful protagonist. Unlike many young adult heroines, Leila is less interested in clothes and cliques than in finding meaningful work and really understanding herself and her world. Partly because she associates mostly with adults, Leila exhibits a maturity and wisdom far beyond her literary peers, and her compelling voice encourages a similar level of thoughtfulness from her readers, who will be rewarded with a deeply perceptive study of a family caught in the aftermath of tragedy. <i>Norah Piehl is a freelance writer and editor in the Boston area.</i>

Jack Gantos is perhaps best known as the author of books for younger readers, including the award-winning Joey Pigza novels for middle graders and the Rotten Ralph picture books. But Gantos has written successfully for young adults as well. In his new novel, The Love Curse of the Rumbaughs, Gantos offers a darkly delicious tale that will both challenge and appeal to teen readers.

In an introduction, the author describes the book as a plain and true small-town story about a family love curse that is so passionate and so genuinely expressed that it transcends everything commonly accepted about how love reveals itself or conceals itself. The narrator of this small-town Pennsylvania tale is a girl named Ivy, who lives with her mother in the Kelly Hotel, across the street from the Rumbaugh pharmacy. The pharmacy is owned by the eccentric twins, Ab and Dolph, who are alike in more than looks and profession. As Ivy discovers, the twins are bound by a powerful love for their mother, the overbearing Mrs. Rumbaugh. Mrs. Rumbaugh, however, has been dead for eight years. But Ab and Dolph have found a way to do something extraordinary to keep their love for her alive something that appalls Ivy, but also makes perfect sense to her, because she loves her own mother as passionately and fully as they love theirs. Don't worry, Ivy tells her mother later. Someday I'll do the same to you, too. And in that moment, a truth is revealed that sets in motion the course of Ivy's life choices. For Ivy, too, is inflicted with the curse of the Rumbaughs the curse of loving her mother too much. (Without giving too much away, do take care if your teen takes an interest in taxidermy after reading this book.)

In this darkly funny novel, Gantos explores what it means to lose a parent, especially a beloved mother. Without monsters or the supernatural, Gantos has exploited the traditions of the gothic to create a funny, sad and thought-provoking novel for teens.

Deborah Hopkinson's latest book of nonfiction is Up Before Daybreak.

I have always been fascinated with American Sign Language. There is something beautiful and graceful about the emotion shown through the hands and the expressive faces of the signers. But what would it be like to have deaf parents? What would it be like to live as a hearing person in a deaf world? Delia Ray, who brought us the moving Ghost Girl last year, now turns her narrative gifts to the story of Gussie Davis, the hearing daughter of deaf parents. Ray, whose mother was raised by deaf parents, has obviously given a lot of thought to this special kind of life.

Gussie is the middle daughter, a preacher's kid growing up in Birmingham in 1948. She wants to be a godly girl, as her father and mother think she is, but Gussie just can't pull it off. Whether she secretly hums during the church service, jealously notices every unfair advantage her perfect older sister Margaret holds over her, or is angry when her father leaves to work as a missionary to deaf communities all over the South, Gussie has a hard time doing the right thing.

It is a rare story in which all the characters are so richly drawn. The three sisters have real emotions, including deep sibling rivalry for the love of their beloved, but often absent, father. Mrs. Davis works nonstop to keep the church running smoothly, the family's boarding house clean and her daughters in line. Even the boarders have complicated lives. There is also much rich back matter: Birmingham in the 1940s is a city of Jim Crow and sharply divided social classes; deaf people are objects of fascination and not considered full citizens; and to be black and deaf is more than most people can overcome. This is also a time of debate in deaf education: Can deaf people ever fully integrate into the hearing world if they communicate mainly with sign language? On so many levels, Delia Ray's story is an honest yet humorous look at a complicated time. Gussie and her sisters are characters who will stay with the reader for a long time.

Jonah Wish, the central character in Stephen Cole’s new young adult novel, Thieves Like Us, has been shuttled between foster homes for most of his life, finding his only refuge inside the bits and bytes of his computer. When he finally settles in a home he likes, things turn unexpectedly sour and he resorts to computer fraud in an effort to set things right. Instead, he ends up in prison the Young Offenders Institution, to be exact and we meet him two months into a one-year sentence. The prison is a mind-numbing, frightening place, but our protagonist won’t be here for long, because a gang unlike any he’s ever imagined is about to break him out.

First at Jonah’s door, picking the lock to his cell, in fact, is Patch, a one-eyed 14-year-old wizard of tumblers; helping him is Con, a willowy beauty who can mesmerize you in more ways than one; Motti, the oldest of the bunch at 21, who knows his way around an electrical circuit; and Tye, a Caribbean girl who’s a human lie detector.

They’re all in the employ of a mysterious benefactor named Coldhardt, and they’ve plucked Jonah from prison to join them on a caper that would do Indiana Jones proud. It turns out that Coldhardt has assembled this unlikely band to acquire a 4,000-year-old formula that might be the secret to eternal youth.

What follows is an adventure that takes our youthful band through daring escapades all over Europe and the Fertile Crescent. (A word of warning: off-color language, hints of teenage sexuality and some violence are included in the journey.) With a delightfully convoluted plot, and a slam-bang ending as good as any blockbuster movie, Thieves Like Us is a Mission Impossible for teenagers, sure to keep even the most reluctant readers turning the pages.

England is a land of opposites. Readers have a choice between the lighthearted world of say, P.G. Wodehouse, on the one hand or the bleak view of someone like Charles Dickens on the other. Kevin Brooks' novel for teens, The Road of the Dead, takes the darker perspective. The son of a gypsy languishing in prison, Reuben Ford lives in a London auto junkyard with his mother, brother and sister, trying to get by. Life is hard, but death is even harder, and when his sister is brutally raped and murdered, he and his brother journey to an isolated village in the desolate moors of the south to find answers that the police won't provide.

Reuben's 17-year-old brother Cole reluctantly lets his younger sibling accompany him. Cole has vengeance on his mind, and Reuben at his mother's urging is going to make sure the gun Cole has in his backpack stays in his backpack. Reuben is scared, though, because he knows his sister's killer is already dead, and he doesn't know how Cole will be able to find a dead man. Reuben knows this because he's psychic.

Reuben's supernatural abilities seem appropriate considering the setting. Dartmoor is a desolate place, with lonely windswept plains and giant stones, or tors, sticking out of the ground like the gravestones of giants. The boys' destination, the village of Lychcombe, is straight out of a Conan Doyle novel, with suspicious, belligerent townsfolk, a group of gypsies camped outside town for no apparent reason and a mysterious landowner who seems to control everything. It will take all of Cole's aggressive snooping and Reuben's special abilities to find the person or people responsible for their sister's death.

The Road of the Dead is a gripping murder mystery that will appeal to teen readers who appreciate dark, atmospheric stories and can handle the gritty nature of Brooks' tale, which includes coarse language and brutal violence. Already a rising star in young adult fiction for novels such as Lucas and Kissing the Rain, Brooks adds another compelling entry to his impressive body of work.

James Neal Webb is a copyright researcher at Vanderbilt University.

In her first novel, Dana Reinhardt has created an exquisite story about teenage choices, goodness, grace and unexpected blessings. Over the course of her junior year in high school, narrator Simone and her friends deal with such issues as teen sexuality, drinking and the need to balance school, family life and activities that will look good on their college applications. (Joining the Atheist Student Association is not exactly what her high school counselor had in mind!) Simone is a bright, loving teen who has a strong relationship with her younger brother and her parents, Elsie and Vince. Though she has always been aware that she was adopted as an infant, she suddenly faces the difficult choice of whether to contact her birth mother. Providing her with a telephone number to a home in Cape Cod and leaving the choice of contact up to her, Simone’s parents encourage her and never feel threatened by this possible reconnection with her past. We learn that Simone’s birth mother, Rivka, was the daughter of a Hasidic Jewish rabbi. She gave birth to Simone at age 16, the same age Simone is now. While seeking the right of Rivka’s father’s congregation to meet in his suburban home, Rivka’s family meets Elsie, a young ACLU lawyer (and atheist) who will become Simone’s adoptive mother. Now living alone in Cape Cod, Rivka earns her living as a photographer. An illness prompts her to contact Simone’s parents, asking to meet Simone. Rivka, who no longer lives as a Hasidic Jew but still practices many traditions of her faith, establishes a fulfilling relationship with Simone that serves to bolster Simone’s love for her adoptive family while satisfying her long-suppressed curiosity about her family tree. Reinhardt demonstrates an unerring ability to capture the voice of an idealistic teen sorting through questions about family, religion and her place in the world. Turning the last page left me immensely proud of Simone, longing to congratulate Elsie and Vince for a job well done, and wishing I could thank Rivka for her compassion and sensitivity. Alice Pelland is an adoptive mother who lives in Hillsborough, North Carolina.

It’s 1978, and life is good for high school senior Eva Lott. She is on the varsity swim team, she’s dating the best-looking guy in the class, and she’s comfortable in her daily existence as a cute, popular girl about to graduate. Life in her Chicago suburb is comfortable, and since her mother’s death from cancer, Eva has learned to play it safe, living in the here and now. But when her father, Professor Lott, tells her they are moving to Poland to be part of the underground movement there, Eva is stunned. How can he do this to her? You can finish high school through correspondence and still make Northwestern next fall, he says, but that’s awfully far into the future for Eva.

The novel then alternates between the stories of Eva and her new friend, Tomek. Eva wants the security of her comfortable life in America. She is horrified not to have seen meat, popcorn or ice cream in any stores during her first days in Poland. She is trapped in this place with no friends, no phone, no TV, and nothing to eat. Eva understands little in Poland; in fact, she thinks Polish words sound more like sneezes than real words.

Tomek, a tall, handsome Polish boy, is impatient to study poetry and pass his exams at the university, but he is involved with the underground and now has to baby-sit this spoiled American girl with too many possessions. Between the two stands Professor Lott, with his determination to do something worthwhile with his life, to make a difference. One day you’ll be proud to say you played a part in Polish independence, he tells Eva. The alternating chapters format is effective in differentiating the points of view and showing the developing relationship between Eva and Tomek. Readers get to watch as a teenaged American girl is yanked out of her comfort zone and put in an utterly foreign place where she must learn to survive; they will be cheered to see her come into her own and thrive. Eva Underground is a fine coming-of-age novel. Dean Schneider is an English teacher in Nashville.

Corydon was born with a leg shaped like a goat’s, which was why the villagers drove him away as a scapegoat, blaming him for all the bad luck they had suffered. It is only after he is captured by pirates for their traveling sideshow of monsters that the young shepherd finds a real family.

Written by a mother and son team using the pen name Tobias Druitt, Corydon and the Island of Monsters renders the ancient myths of the Greek world with a modern touch. The Olympian gods, for example, are compared to a bossy multinational corporation, striving to wipe out all monsters, mostly because they just don’t like them.

With the aid of a powerful staff, Corydon escapes from the pirates and frees all the monsters, while befriending a pair of immortal Gorgons and a pregnant Medusa. One pirate sends word of the escape to Perseus, son of Zeus, who tries to hide his own cowardice by forming a band of heroes to destroy the monsters. Corydon must find a way to form his monster allies including the Minotaur, the Sphinx and the Harpy into an army of defense, one that can face the thousands of men Perseus lured to the island with claims of great treasure. To succeed, Corydon must also learn how to use the magic of the staff, even though that means entering the Land of the Dead.

Corydon eventually finds that he and his friends don’t have to stand alone against this power, as Pan, Artemis and other gods are on their side. As is often the case when the gods battle, it is the lesser beings who pay with their lives, but Corydon learns that this can be the price for freedom.

Corydon and the Island of Monsters is a great way to introduce classic legends to young readers. Two more books are planned to follow the adventures of this courageous boy, and I will be looking forward to both of them. Colleen R. Cahill is recommending officer of science fiction and fantasy at the Library of Congress.

As the first African-American student in the history of Draper, a prestigious Connecticut boarding school, 16-year-old Rob Garrett has the chance to break barriers, just like his heroes Jackie Robinson and Joe Louis. Intelligent, determined and ambitious, Rob is also eager to work hard and prove himself: I would have to fend for myself, and I was thrilled by the prospect. Accustomed to feeling constantly threatened by whites back home in segregationist Virginia, Rob is surprised to find little overt prejudice directed at him. Instead, Rob witnesses the boys’ abusive treatment of his friend Vinnie, whose New York City background, Italian heritage and severe acne make him the brunt of cruel jokes. Rob succeeds at Draper, making the honor roll his very first semester, and begins to feel safe in his new environment. When he makes a Thanksgiving trip to Harlem and encounters Malcolm X and other black activists, though, Rob begins to wonder whether he’s becoming too complacent. After he learns of his friends’ plans to stage a sit-in at Woolworth’s back home in Virginia, Rob becomes ever more eager to figure out how to combine his activist and academic desires.

New Boy is a work of fiction, but it is based on the early life of its author, Julian Houston, now a Massachusetts Superior Court Justice. Houston’s depiction of racism during the 1950s is brutally honest. The n-word is used frequently, and an attack on demonstrating college students is described in painfully vivid detail. The novel does a fine job of explaining for young readers the political and social issues that divided not only blacks and whites but even the African-American community itself. New Boy’s personal, emotional account of segregation and racism would be an excellent choice to read after studying the period in social studies or history classes. With a likeable narrator making tough decisions, New Boy is bound to elicit lively discussions. Although the ending of the novel leaves many questions unanswered, readers will be hopeful that Judge Houston will pen more novels about this promising, principled young man.

Mark Warren has what seems to be an enviable life. He has a good family, he’s the star pitcher of his high school baseball team, and he has a new girlfriend named Diane. But then Dad gets a phone call: He sits to tell us/words tossed out like fly balls/ tumor cancer spread. Mark’s world changes at that moment when his father finds out that his pancreatic cancer has spread. And yet, so much doesn’t seem to be any different. I think there’s some-/thing wrong with my/eyes everything looks/the same …/Don’t they know/everything is changed?/That I’ll never be the same? Mark comes to understand there’s no road map for death and says, I am terrified/of the time/when I touch him/and he won’t touch me/back. Like most novels in verse, Ann Turner’s Hard Hit is best read in one big gulp to absorb the rhythms of the verse and the subtleties of Mark’s coming to terms with the impending loss of a beloved father. The images are fresh and immediate. Mark and his friend Eddie go out for target practice, shooting at cans: click the trigger, gun kicks/each one/high /Sick!/Tumor!Growing! The simple, elemental lines of Turner’s free verse novel are the perfect match for the stark subject matter the questioning, the wonder, the loneliness. There are no easy answers, no comfortable philosophizing, just a teenaged boy living his life as his father is losing his. If there is any help for Mark, it is in the web of his life that goes on: his sister and mother, Diane, Eddie, school, baseball, memories of his Dad in the garden working the earth, Dad with the telescope saying, We’re made from stars. And the wrenching scene: Dad?/I pitched a no-hitter! /The damnedest thing, he opened/his eyes and said, Good boy,/Marky, you always were a good boy! As in her Learning to Swim, Turner has fashioned a gem of a novel about a tough subject. Her transcendent poetry deals with matters of life and death, family and friends, the earth and the stars.

Leaving home can be both exciting and scary, with new places, new people and maybe a bit of adventure. In Patricia Elliott’s teen novel, Murkmere, 15-year-old Aggie is understandably thrilled when she gets a chance to leave her dull life in the village to be a paid companion to the ward and heir of the local lord. Even warnings from her friend Jethro cannot put Aggie off and things seem to go well at Murkmere, at least at first. The steward of the manor, Silas Seed, is warmly welcoming and the Master of the manor, who is wheelchair-bound, has clearly chosen Aggie for this position, partly because of her age and partly because her late mother was once a maid at Murkmere. Leah, the Master’s ward, is not happy with her new companion and views Aggie with suspicion and anger. Leah is not Aggie’s only problem. A believer in the divine power of birds, Aggie is aghast to learn that Leah and the Master both disdain this official religion of the state. Silas asks Aggie to report back any odd behavior by Leah and while Aggie worries about her mistress being in moral danger, she is uncomfortable with spying. Even after Leah opens up a bit, Aggie still feels lonely and longs for home. All this changes after Leah finds a swan skin, one that has a strange pull over the young heiress.

Elliott’s fantasy echoes the fairy tales in which enchanted princesses becomes swans, but her story has a dark side, with deep secrets and evil schemes. The intriguing characters, twisting plot and atmospheric settings make this a fascinating page-turner that will beguile as well as thrill. It is a perfect book for those who like a gothic edge to their stories. Colleen R. Cahill is Recommending Officer of Science Fiction and Fantasy at the Library of Congress.