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Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Ash’s Cabin

Review by Norah Piehl

Ash has always felt like an outsider. They have few friends at school, their interests in fantasy novels and environmentalism aren’t shared by their peers, and when they came out as nonbinary and changed their name, their parents didn’t quite get it: “When they don’t think I can hear them, they say the old name to each other.” So when their family decides to take a summer trip to Disneyland, Ash asks permission to head to northern California instead, ostensibly to spend time at their aunt and uncle’s ranch—but actually to solve a mystery.

Ash’s beloved Grandpa Edwin always talked about a cabin he’d built in the wilderness near the ranch. Now that Edwin’s passed away, no one’s sure whether the cabin is real or just family lore, but Ash is determined to find out. They spend weeks researching, planning and preparing. When the time is right, they set off with nothing but their dog Chase and what they can carry on their back, ready to fully embrace a life without judgment—and entirely alone.

Graphic novelist Jen Wang, who has explored issues of gender and identity in previous works like The Princess and the Dressmaker and Stargazing, continues to examine these ideas in Ash’s Cabin through the bittersweet, complicated character of Ash. Though determined to be self-reliant, Ash soon comes to understand just how interconnected humans are with each other and with the natural world. 

Wang’s pen and watercolor drawings tenderly illustrate Ash’s world. Structured as a journal, the graphic novel includes illustrations of fish, herbs and edible plants; but even as Ash, the narrator, outlines all they’re doing to survive in this remote place, Wang’s illustrations also depict the toll this isolated life takes on Ash and Chase, especially when a crisis threatens all they’ve built. Beautiful, complex and affirming, Ash’s Cabin will prompt deep conversations about how best to support one another and our environment, at a time when the future is uncertain and peace can be hard to find.

Beautiful, complex and affirming, Ash’s Cabin will prompt deep conversations about how best to support one another and our environment, at a time when the future is uncertain and peace can be hard to find.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

The White Guy Dies First

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

How do you like your horror? Perhaps you’re a fan of creeping dread, or gory goings-on are more your speed? The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power, editor Terry J. Benton-Walker’s anthology featuring authors of color, explores a variety of tropes for readers who enjoy disturbing, thought-provoking fare.

Despite their varied approaches, settings and baddies, all the ominously entertaining stories in The White Guy Dies First have two things in common: They center people of color and, per the book’s title, the white guy indeed dies first. Also evident throughout is an appreciation for horror. As Benton-Walker—author of the bestselling Blood Debts and Alex Wise series—notes, “The genre has always been a medium to deliver terror that’s most often intertwined with a deeper message, which can be far more horrifying than any superficial scare.”

Chloe Gong’s blood-spattered slasher, “Docile Girls,” features Adelaide Hu, head of the prom committee that includes her ex Jake Stewart and his snide friends. Jake had relegated her to “an exotic smiling accessory,” but on the fateful night before the big dance, Adelaide is anything but docile. And in Mark Oshiro’s suspenseful home invasion story, “Wasps,” Nina Ortiz defends her Abuela Carmen’s Brooklyn house from a gentrifier who wants to take their home—despite not knowing just how dark things can get in the Ortiz family’s basement.

There’s body horror (Naseem Jamnia’s “Break Through Our Skin”) and occult magic (Lamar Giles’ “The Protégé”), too. And an angry, hilariously profane haunted house narrates Benton-Walker’s own contribution, “The Road to Hell,” in which a Florida manse that spent centuries wanting love from occupants who “abandoned me, deeming me unlovable, unworthy . . . haunted” pulls out all the terrifying stops in an effort to make its current residents stay put.

Readers won’t want to put down The White Guy Dies First until they turn the last spooky page of this creative and creepy collection in which expectations are subverted and underrepresented groups claim their power from ghouls and demons both real and supernatural.

 

Readers won’t want to put down The White Guy Dies First, a creative and creepy collection in which expectations are subverted and underrepresented groups claim their power from ghouls and demons both real and supernatural.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Time and Time Again

Review by Tami Orendain

For weeks, Phoebe Mendel has woken up, eaten pancakes with her mom, played Scrabble with her dad and gone to bed hoping the next day will come. It never does. Phoebe’s stuck in a time loop—one that keeps her trapped in the same dry summer day, alone in the repetitions. That is, until her old friend Jess Friedman accidentally hits her with their car and becomes aware of the loop too, urging Phoebe to use the extra time to let loose and have fun. As they spend their repeating days together, feelings grow and secrets are revealed, but ultimately, their hopes for the future depend on escaping the time loop once and for all.

Chatham Greenfield’s debut novel, Time and Time Again throws a new twist into the age-old time loop scenario: What if you had to experience with your childhood friend and crush to whom you haven’t spoken in years? For Phoebe and Jess, the loop is a supernatural way to figure out their relationships—with each other, their loved ones and themselves.

While the speculative aspects may grab readers’ interests, the characters drive the heart of this book. Both Phoebe and Jess, whose families initially bonded over shared Jewish identity, also both have chronic illnesses that impact every decision they make, granting glimpses into life with irritable bowel syndrome and oligoarthritis. Phoebe is reflective and self-aware, but often has trouble standing up for herself, whether that means demanding that a fatphobic doctor take her IBS seriously or acknowledging her feelings toward Jess. Jess, on the other hand, is bubbly and brash, but they tend to retreat into secrecy, making Phoebe wonder who they really are and how they really feel.

In fact, the entire cast of this time-bending story is vibrantly multidimensional. Phoebe’s parents are divorced and co-parent their daughter along with the help of her uncles Gabe and Adrian. Jess’ brother Zahir is part of a rowdy band with friends from different classes, backgrounds and identities—all of whom amaze Phoebe with their kindness. Their small town is full of characters with real-feeling histories, preferences and hopes.

Time and Time Again is about being honest with others and with yourself, and finding the courage to dream for your future—and work for it, too. As Phoebe and Jess are given the chance to work on their most important relationships, readers may reflect on what they might do with the same opportunities. Readers looking for a sweet, moving love story will enjoy getting to know Phoebe and Jess in this fun, speculative queer romance.

Readers looking for a sweet, moving love story will enjoy getting to know Phoebe and Jess in Time and Time Again, a fun, speculative queer romance.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Our Beautiful Darkness

Review by Jena Groshek

In award-winning author Ondjaki’s Our Beautiful Darkness, a boy and a girl spend a night together during a power outage in Luanda, Angola, at the height of the Angolan Civil War, which immediately followed Angola’s independence from Portugal in 1975.

With the sting of chaos all around these two unnamed protagonists, and the lingering uncertainty that not only comes with war, but also with physical darkness, they find themselves delving into an existential exploration of the heart, as well as an unspoken buildup of affection and yearning. Should the boy lean in for a kiss? Their hands are touching—is that a sign?

In this young adult graphic novel, translated from the original Portuguese by Lyn Miller-Lachmann, all of this takes place while the two characters contemplate the possibility of the impossible—such as sending wishes to the stars that wars would cease to exist, children would no longer be taken by them and there could be a rainbow bridge that brings home people who have died in the war.

Antonio Jorge Gonçalves’ illustrations pair perfectly with the blackout setting, in that each spread leaves something to be questioned and interpreted, just as the two characters do through dialogue. While the boy and girl discuss their pain and the cruelty of war, they rejoice in the little things the darkness has brought them: closeness, silence, time with nothing else to do and a determination to make this night together as beautiful as possible. With such a stunning representation of not only pain and conflict, but also the joy that is still able to make its way through, Our Beautiful Darkness is sure to leave readers considering, appreciating and reflecting on the world around them.

With such a stunning representation of not only pain and conflict, but also the joy that is still able to make its way through, Our Beautiful Darkness is sure to leave readers considering, appreciating and reflecting on the world around them.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Rosena Fung on juggling heartbreak and joy

Interview by Yi Jiang

Rosena Fung’s latest graphic novel, Age 16, explores the complicated relationships between three generations, jumping in time between the experiences of three 16-year-old girls: Roz in Toronto in 2000; her mother, Lydia, in Hong Kong in 1972; and Roz’s grandmother, Mei Laan, in Guangdong in 1954.

How did you come up with the narrative structure of Age 16? What inspired you to pick 16 as the specific age that connects your three main characters?

I knew I wanted to explore the lives of a girl, her mother and her grandmother, and how they intersect and are interwoven with each other. From the beginning I knew that I wanted multiple timelines to show how their lives and choices affect each other. Sixteen is such an intense time for many people, and in particular it was a time of major upheaval and change for my mom and my por por. It was a good way to parallel these lives together to show its many contrasts but also how the characters are so similar to each other. I owe a lot to my editor, who helped me sculpt this story into its final form.

Read our starred review of Age 16 here. 

In your author’s note, you describe how the book is based on your own family history. What was the experience like of writing characters based on real family members, with all their messy vulnerabilities and tender humanity?

Writing characters based on real stories and real lives can be so hard. I try to be accountable to the people I’m writing about, to make sure I’m being honest about my emotions but also to honor their own stories and where they’re coming from. Trying to inhabit their lives is part of the writing process, and also imagining how it will be received by them. It is often a precarious act of juggling these factors, while staying true to upholding the story I’m telling. Writing this book was definitely an emotional one as I confronted my own feelings and memories about my mom and grandmother!

This book brims with life—piles of glittery accessories in 2000s Toronto; fruit stalls crowded together in 1970s Hong Kong; fields full of laborers in 1950s Guangdong. How did you go about capturing a unique sense of place in each section? What kind of historical research did you have to do?

It was a combination of going through a LOT of photo albums, plumbing through the memories of both my mom and my own teenage self, and research about historical movements and context as well as many photo archives. I wanted to make sure each place was a character in its own right, because the spaces we live in inform our sense of self and growth. Throughout my life, I have visited both Hong Kong and Guangdong multiple times, and I hold on to those memories dearly. Sometimes a wayward scent or cacophonous noise in Toronto will bring me back to those places in an instant and suddenly I can see all the colors, the landscape, the food. I wanted this kind of vibrancy present in the book.

The contrast between each era is striking: China in the brutal aftermath of war is very different from Y2K Toronto. How do you balance grappling with the harmful behaviors of older generations, while considering the difficult—even unfathomable—circumstances from which those behaviors are born?

I think everyone has depths that even they can’t always see, including how past experiences and trauma influence their present-day choices and behaviors. It took a long time for me to understand this, how a person can hold so much but we only ever see the most surface layer. With this, I try to consider why someone would act in ways I don’t understand—not to justify or absolve harm, but to understand why, and from that place try to move forward together. I never got along with my por por, but through the process of researching and writing this book, I gained more clarity and admiration for her as a person.

When Roz, Lydia and Mei Laan get hurt, they often end up hurting others. How do you think one breaks this cycle of lashing out? What does forgiveness mean to you? 

This is a really hard question! I think this is something many struggle with, and I don’t have a clear answer. In the book, I try to show that each character gains a deeper understanding of each other and how the way they grew up, or the ways others have treated them, affect how they in turn treat others. Trying to know someone deeply is a start, and then isolating their harmful actions as a reflection of that trauma rather than internalizing it as deeply personal is a way to distance that harm. But that of course sounds easier said than done, and can be a lifelong process. Forgiveness to me means letting go. I don’t mean absolution or the absence of accountability for harm and its aftermath. But I mean getting to a place within yourself so that those words, behaviors or actions lose their barbs. I think forgiveness can’t happen if the other party can’t meet you halfway. But sometimes (often), life gives us no closure and we have to choose to move on—with or without the one who hurt you.

I try to be accountable to the people I’m writing about, to make sure I’m being honest about my emotions but also to honor their own stories and where they’re coming from.

In a world that is unkind to women’s bodies, food haunts these characters. But food also provides comfort and connection, especially in the context of Chinese diaspora culture. What thoughts went into your nuanced portrayal of food and how we treat our bodies?

First of all, I love food and any chance I can draw it or include it in stories, I 100% will. Food, consumption and bodies are such fraught battlegrounds where history, politics and misogyny play out. Women in particular are taught to deny ourselves food, pleasure and desire. Through this book, I wanted to make explicit the ways in which social expectations of how female bodies should exist are highly problematic and dangerous, and how we internalize these ideas as a given. But it was also important for me to highlight how women and girls are often forced to make certain choices to survive, depending on the context they grew up in. And some of these lessons (needing a husband to survive, needing a desirable body, fatphobia) get passed down to daughters. Many people have such painful and toxic relationships with food (girded by a capitalist industrial complex that benefits from our self-hatreds), and problematic conceptions of “good” or “bad” food, that I personally am trying to untangle and unlearn.

“The world can be made to fit you” is a gorgeous adage repeated throughout this graphic novel. What else would you tell your 16-year-old self, if given the chance?

“Keep all your Sailor Moon cards and lip glosses and magazines because one day you will be nostalgic for all of it and you will have to pay a lot of money to buy these things back again.”

Roz fantasizes about prom, but has to make a hard choice when she’s also invited to anti-prom. What would your ideal anti-prom night be like?

I am a homebody, so cozy in bed reading a book with a cozy cat and snacks next to me sounds like true bliss. BUT I would also love a party with a lot of glitter and sequins, all my friends, a drag and/or burlesque show, and a buffet. And Taylor Swift. The after party would be either at a Chinese restaurant or a diner. Or both, one after the other.

Can you speak more on the presence of cats (dear Millie!) throughout this book? 

I LOVE cats. SO MUCH. Millie is an amalgamation of my cat Foomy that my mom and I had when I was 16, and my current cat Coco (aka Bean). She is a mix of Foomy’s sass and habits with Bean’s sweet gray, beautifully rotund body. I wanted to use cats as a motif throughout each timeline to affirm repetition in the characters’ lives, but also as an excuse to draw them. My cat (and my partner) have been a source of support and an anchor while I wrote this book. They are my North Stars!

Rosena Fung weaves together the stories of three generations in Age 16.
Mystery & SuspenseChildren's & YAYA FictionYASuspenseMystery

Scene(s) of the crime: Our 5 favorite mystery settings

Feature by the editors of BookPage

Broken Harbor

In addition to her beautiful language and intricately constructed characters, one of Tana French’s great skills is her knack for an evocative setting. Think the deceptively quaint mountain village of Ardnakelty in The Searcher and The Hunter, or the siren call of cozy, idyllic Whitethorn House in The Likeness. But Broken Harbor is perhaps French’s finest achievement in terms of the setting as microcosm for the work at large. A luxury seaside development, Brianstown was supposed to represent the ultimate in upper-middle-class achievement for the Spain family, most of whom were murdered in their home by an unknown intruder. But a burst housing bubble left Brianstown’s construction only halfway completed: The neighborhood looks more like the decrepit cityscapes of Inception than the idyllic capitalist dream on the brochure, and instead of being part of a thriving community, the Spains were some of the only inhabitants of the urban equivalent of a sandcastle disintegrating on the beach. Things get even eerier when you get inside their house, which is literally full of holes, some of which have baby monitors placed next to them. There is an answer as to what the Spains were looking for, but the point is that they couldn’t stop searching, that materialistic striving can so quickly turn into paranoia, even as the walls literally crumble around you.

—Savanna, Managing Editor

Still Life

Still Life, the first mystery in Louise Penny’s beloved Armand Gamache series, draws Chief Inspector Gamache of the Sureté du Québec to Three Pines, a remote village in the mountains of Québec, whose eclectic residents cherish their solitude. What more does one need than a bistro owned by a lovable gay couple, a solid boulangerie, a musty used bookstore and a volunteer fire department headed by a misanthropic old poet with a penchant for cursing out her adoring neighbors? Here, one of these neighbors is found dead in the forest—a hunting accident, say the authorities, as one does when death visits a woman in the woods. Rather than view Three Pines as a backwater town that time forgot (even connecting to the internet becomes a plot point), the morals-driven leader and ruthlessly clever Gamache is eager to get to know a community that is much more than the sum of its parts. As seen through his eyes, readers will be taken by the wholesome charms and stark beauty of the village, despite murder after murder occurring in the next 17 books of the series. The audiobook, read by the exceptional Ralph Cosham, is as delicious as the bistro’s warm ham and brie baguette. 

—Erica, Associate Editor

The Secret History of Twin Peaks

Speaking as a born-and-raised Washingtonian, there’s no place like the Pacific Northwest. In particular, there’s no place like the Pacific Northwest for setting a mystery. There’s something about the towering old-growth Douglas firs and the ever-present mist and drizzle that makes a cup of good diner coffee and a great slice of pie that much more comforting—and makes an unsolved case that much more bone-chilling. If you haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing the eerie beauty of western Washington in person, Mark Frost and David Lynch’s Twin Peaks will just about transport you there. And if you’re a super fan who’s already seen every episode more than once, you can move on to Mark Frost’s book The Secret History of Twin Peaks. It’s written as a dossier compiled by a mysterious “Archivist” with commentary from the FBI agent assigned to review the file and determine the Archivist’s identity. The photos, newspaper articles and journal entries begin in the 1800s and continue through the action of the TV series in 1989. Read it to feel a misty northwestern chill creep up your spine.

—Phoebe, Associate Editor

House of Roots and Ruin

The sequel to Erin Craig’s House of Salt and Sorrows, House of Roots and Ruin is a story of introspection, deception and supernatural enigmas. Verity Thaumas has struggled to find her place in the shadows of her successful older sisters, especially Camille, the duchess of their family estate, Highmoor. When Verity is offered a job from the Duchess of Bloem to paint a portrait of her son, Alexander, Camille panics and confesses that Verity sees ghosts and can’t differentiate them from real people, making her a liability to the family name if she were to go out on her own. Consumed with doubt, fear and resentment, Verity flees Highmoor later that night. With nowhere to go, she makes her way to Bloem, an ethereal region of lush scenery and bright colors; it’s a stark difference from the salty, dreary mood of her homeland. But it doesn’t take long for the dreamy Bloem estate, Chauntilalie, to expose its dark side, from Duke Gerard’s poisonous botanical experiments to the ghosts stuck in a time loop. Amid her growing love for Alexander, Verity confronts the challenges of her new home, all while trying to keep her abilities hidden. But if Verity isn’t careful, she might not only reveal her identity, but also uncover family secrets that could threaten Chauntilalie as a whole. Readers will relish how Craig juxtaposes eerie details with her extravagant setting in this gothic, fantastical and romantic story.

—Jena, Sales Coordinator

All good mysteries must have a fiendishly compelling plot, but truly great mysteries place their central puzzle in an equally fascinating setting.
Children's & YAYA NonfictionYA

Woe

Review by Norah Piehl

This reviewer is emphatically not a cat person. So it’s a testament to my faith in Lucy Knisley that I eagerly picked up Woe: A Housecat’s Story of Despair. 

The comics included here will be familiar to the bestselling author’s numerous social media followers; over many years she chronicled the misadventures and many (many) demands of her charmingly grouchy cat Linney as webcomics. Now, they’ve been collected into a single volume for the first time. Readers unfamiliar with Linney will benefit from Knisley’s introduction, in which she explains why her drawings of Linney don’t look exactly the way one might expect a cat to look: “A lifetime of trying to draw cats ‘well,’” Knisley writes, “has shown me that it’s much better to try to draw their personality, rather than an accurate visual representation.” 

In Knisley’s artwork, Linney is a vaguely cat-shaped being with personality to spare. She is the color of butterscotch pudding, with a fluffy tail, no nose to speak of, and eyes and a mouth that are expressive beyond belief. Her green eyes can go wide and attentive, or squinty and sly (and in at least one case, they’re lit with the fire of devilry); her one canine tooth sticks out when she yowls in despair or just for attention. 

Knisley’s comics chronicle dynamics that will be familiar to pet owners, and cat owners in particular: the pet who whines loudly for food only to turn up their nose at what’s on offer; the toddler whose fur-pulling affection is barely tolerated; the long-suffering spouse who grudgingly indulges the cat’s foibles. Since the real-life Linney passed away in 2020, Knisley also chronicles the inevitable pain of losing a beloved member of the family in sections that will undoubtedly affect readers emotionally, whether they’re cat people or not. The individual cartoons are short and clever, but collectively, they compile a funny, touching saga that explores what it means to care for a beloved four-legged companion through thick and thin.

Woe: A Housecat’s Story of Despair is a funny, touching saga that explores what it means to care for a beloved four-legged companion through thick and thin.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Sleep Like Death

Review by Tami Orendain

Armed with well-honed combat skills and a magical connection to nature, Princess Eve wants nothing more than to defeat the Knight, a mysterious figure who’s been preying on the people of her kingdom. But just as Eve is about to turn 17, her mother, the Queen, secludes herself in her room, mumbling to a mysterious mirror. Eve decides that the time has come to fulfill her destiny and sets out to defeat the Knight once and for all, a journey that leads to treachery, battles, and answers about who the Knight really is—and who Eve really is, too.

Kalynn Bayron once again puts an inventive twist on a classic fairytale in Sleep Like Death. This time, she turns Snow White into a story of morally complicated characters and twisted legends. There’s a meta layer, too, as Eve collects tales of the Knight and observes how they change over time, allowing Bayron to explore how truth distorts into rumor and how that could lead to the birth of a fairy tale.

Sleep Like Death expands the world of Snow White into a universe of gray morality and ulterior motives. The Queen, for example, isn’t a jealous villain with clear motives; she’s a mother torn between her duty and her love for her daughter. The mirror isn’t just a soulless tool, it’s also a way for the characters to talk to the Knight’s charismatic and mysterious liaison, Nova. And Eve isn’t a dreamer, she’s a warrior—one whose passion grows into a balance of wisdom and experience.

Like the tale it’s based on, Sleep Like Death is a moving, memorable story about love, revenge and triumph. But it gives its characters room to breathe, letting them grow. Eve’s story strikes that delicate balance between classic and inventive: Bayron honors the heroine she takes inspiration from while maintaining the originality of her own character. It’s fun to recognize callbacks to Snow White while seeing how Bayron repositions familiar tropes and characters in new, innovative ways, turning the fairy tale on its head without betraying its heart and soul. 

Full of heroism, romance and wisdom, Sleep Like Death is a wonderful coming-of-age fantasy that will delight readers searching for a robust fairy tale retelling.

Full of heroism, romance and wisdom, Sleep Like Death is a wonderful coming-of-age fantasy story that will delight readers searching for a robust fairy tale retelling.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Ready or Not

Review by Tami Orendain

Cassie, Marcy, Aaron and Nico have been best friends since birth, and now that senior year’s done, they have one last summer together before moving on to the next step. Marcy’s moving across the country to pursue art, Aaron’s preparing for law school, Nico’s moving to London, and Cassie? Cassie isn’t sure what she’s doing next. So in an attempt to have one final, epic summer together, she ropes her friends into a game of Risky Slips: a contest of dares they used to play as kids.

Andi Porretta’s debut graphic novel, Ready or Not, dances on the edge between youth and adulthood. Its characters are vibrant and fun, but they’re also facing a lot of change—which lets the story explore the joy, pain and chaos of growing up. Porretta’s expressive, colorful art style lends itself well to the emotional ups and downs of this charming story.

Porretta gives her characters real, resonant challenges, like struggling with grief, anxiety or high expectations from parents. As recent high school graduates and new adults, they’re just learning what it means to have responsibility over their rapidly changing lives. There are also interpersonal conflicts between them, born out of the natural transition from a shared childhood into college and long-distance friendship. How do you stay friends when you’re in different states—and different countries? What does friendship mean for adults? What does it mean to grow apart?

These serious conflicts contrast with the tenderness of their friendship and the whimsy of their dares. The characters race through train stations and perform flashy songs and dances in a public park. They good-naturedly egg each other on, encouraging their friends through every dare. As their summer dwindles down, they reminisce about their childhoods and wonder about their futures. Readers will have a blast following their schemes—and will also be satisfied as they tackle more serious topics together.

Ready or Not is a refreshing graphic novel that doesn’t ignore the real challenges of growing up. It gives Cassie and friends moments of play and moments of reflection, asking them to take control of their changing lives while also remembering what they truly value. It’s a great life lesson for all ages: Just because you’re growing up doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.

Andi Porretta’s debut graphic novel, Ready or Not, dances on the edge between youth and adulthood. Its characters are vibrant and fun, but they’re also facing a lot of change—which lets the story explore the joy, pain and chaos of growing up.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Age 16

Review by Alice Cary

Rosena Fung’s much-lauded debut, Living with Viola, explored the mental health and cultural challenges faced by a middle school girl. Her second graphic novel, Age 16, is an excellent examination of a familiar theme—a teenage girl trying to find herself—which Fung explores more fully through depicting the inheritance of trauma and misunderstandings over generations.

In Toronto in 2000, Rosalind (Roz) begins her morning by stepping on the scale before heading off to high school. It’s a dizzying time, with friends applying to college and talking about prom, the latter of which causes Roz to fantasize about a slimmer version of herself attending. But at home, her mother, Lydia, chastises her for her eating habits and claims Roz “inherited my slow metabolism and bad genes.” Then Roz’s grandmother, Mei Laan, appears unannounced from Hong Kong after an absence of 10 years. This thin but clearly unhappy woman offers nothing but criticism to her daughter and granddaughter.

Two additional timelines, following Roz’s mother and grandmother in their own youths, are naturally woven into this present narrative. Readers travel to Hong Kong in 1972, where 16-year-old Lydia loves to dance but faces nonstop barbs about her weight: “Get your head out of the clouds,” Mei Laan advises. “A girl like you can’t be a star.” Thankfully, a family friend, Auntie Ping, provides encouragement and guidance. In scenes from Guangdong, China, 1954, miserable Mei Laan works in the fields and is always hungry. When she complains, her anguished mother cries, “We didn’t survive the Japanese only to have our family ruined by a big mouth!”

“I wanted to make sure each place was a character in its own right.” Read our Q&A with Rosena Fung here. 

The graphic novel format is the perfect medium to succinctly convey Age 16’s heavy themes of inherited trauma, and how Roz, her mother and grandmother share dreams, doubts and difficulties as they make their own way regardless of absent fathers and husbands. Fung’s lively art makes each generation’s needs feel urgent and relevant. She expertly glides between time periods, making Roz the focus, while examining how all three women’s behaviors are tied together by their shared history. Roz is a likable, realistic character who dreams of going to art school, perhaps becoming a photographer. Alongside her, a cast of high school girls, including Roz’s best friend Victoria, worry about their futures—especially their prom dreams.

With its unique multigenerational approach, Age 16 expertly tackles perceptions of weight, self-worth and parental conflict. In the face of seemingly impossible relationship repair and resolution, Fung offers an engaging, naturally evolving conclusion. As Roz’s mother explains, “When things get tough and you feel like you don’t belong, you can make the world fit you.”

With its unique multigenerational approach, Age 16 expertly tackles perceptions of weight, self-worth and parental conflict.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

2 young adult graphic novels to celebrate Pride

List by Emily Koch
STARRED REVIEW

September 29, 2021

2 young adult graphics to celebrate Pride

In these books, Molly Knox Ostertag and Theo Parish combine expressive art and writing to offer poignant explorations of LGBTQ+ identity, relationships and self-acceptance.

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Children's & YAYA FictionYAGraphic Novels & Comics

The Deep Dark

Review by Emily Koch

Magdalena Herrera has a lot of responsibilities. On top of trying to finish high school, she works a part-time job and is the sole caregiver for her grandmother. Mags has a lot of secrets as well. She’s hooking up with a girl who has a boyfriend. And every night she disappears down a trapdoor in her house, and emerges drained in more than one way.

Then her childhood best friend, Nessa, shows up for the first time in a decade, and starts asking questions the Herreras don’t want anyone to ask. What’s more, Nessa is stirring up feelings that Mags long ago accepted people in her family can never have. But Nessa has secrets, too, and the girls are about to learn the hard way that secrets thrive best in the dark.

The Deep Dark is a moving and eerie graphic novel exploring identity, generational trauma and queer love. Molly Knox Ostertag takes the successful elements of her previous books, The Girl From the Sea and The Witch Boy trilogy, and elevates them. Her characters are complex and nuanced, and their dialogue is natural and impassioned. Ostertag expertly interweaves magical realism and mystery into what is also an adorable love story.

The art is stunning, with expressive characters and the beautiful setting of the Southern California desert. Ostertag twists typical comic conventions, coloring the present almost exclusively in black and white, while the flashbacks are in full color, making it apparent that Mags’ life has been in shades of gray since Nessa left. Page gutters are black during night scenes, intensifying the creepiness. Throughout, Ostertag’s dynamic illustrations elicit emotional responses; for example, panels get progressively smaller during a moment of panic, literally creating tunnel vision.

The Deep Dark leaves some questions unanswered, but that’s the point: A conflict as intricate as the one in this story cannot be wrapped up neatly. But as Ostertag discusses in her author’s note, this graphic novel follows the “first careful steps of unraveling,” and you’ll root for Mags and Nessa to keep taking those steps.

The Deep Dark is a moving and eerie graphic novel exploring identity, generational trauma and queer love.
Children's & YAYA FictionYAGraphic Novels & Comics

Homebody

Review by Emily Koch

Theo remembers feeling uncomfortable with how the world saw them from a very young age. Frustrations built up, from boys assuming that they couldn’t play chess to being forced to cut their own hair because hairdressers always insisted on more feminine looks. But experiences in art school, at comic-cons and playing tabletop roleplaying games, plus countless searches on the internet, led Theo to realize they feel most at home identifying as nonbinary.

Homebody, by debut author Theo Parish, is a delightful, beautiful graphic memoir celebrating the journey they took to discover their gender identity. Reading it feels like receiving a warm hug. Parish dedicates Homebody “for you, whenever and however you need it,” offering frequently interspersed epiphanies anyone can hold on to, such as “living authentically in a world that takes every opportunity . . . to squeeze you uncomfortably into a box of someone else’s design . . . is the most radical act of self love.”

Parish generates gorgeous imagery through a color palette of pinks and blues, sometimes blending the colors together. Shades of joyful pink illustrate Theo’s moments of gender euphoria. The most striking time Parish uses purple is in a full-page introspection about moments when they felt . Throughout the memoir, Theo is drawn with a literal house for their body, as an extended metaphor that is both powerful and charming.

This title truly matches the sweet nature and adorable, expressive illustrations of Alice Oseman’s Heartstopper, while being exceptional in its own way as a nonfiction offering. On the first page, Parish lists facts about their life before even mentioning that they’re nonbinary: In this vein, while Parish includes musings concerning general transgender and nonbinary identity, Homebody is first and foremost a memoir centered around Parish’s specific coming of age in England. Still, through this deeply personal exploration of gender identity, many who traditionally have been left out of narrative storytelling may see their own experiences reflected, as Parish “[shines] a beacon of hope to those yet to flourish.”

 

Homebody is a delightful, beautiful graphic memoir celebrating the journey Theo Parish took to discover their gender identity.

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In these two graphic novels, Theo Parish and Molly Knox Ostertag combine expressive art and writing to offer poignant explorations of LGBTQ+ identity, relationships and self-acceptance.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Anton Treuer on writing a Native story about healing

Behind the Book by Anton Treuer

I should not know my Native American culture or language. But I am alive. I live my culture. I speak and dream in Ojibwe.

My grandmother, Luella Seelye, was taken from her parents on the Leech Lake Reservation in Minnesota and sent to boarding school as a child, where she was forbidden to speak Ojibwe. She came back to Leech Lake, married and raised a family. My mother, Margaret, grew up trapping, hunting, fishing and harvesting wild rice. Something profound had survived the war on our culture, but something beautiful was severed too.

I grew up at Leech Lake watching my mother become the first female Native attorney in Minnesota. By middle school, the cabin of my younger years (with no running water or electricity) was replaced with a beautiful modern home. Through it all, we harvested wild rice, made maple syrup and hunted. I grew up with books, as well as the woods, a burning sense of justice and ambition.

I went to high school with lots of Native students and many more white students. The racism was inescapable. I wanted to get out of town and never come back. I shocked everyone I knew, myself most of all, by getting into Princeton University. I shocked them again when I graduated from Princeton with a plan to come home and never leave.

I lived with one of our tribal elders, Archie Mosay. He was a teenager the first time he saw a white man, and in his 30s the first time he saw a car. I emerged from that experience fluent in our language and committed to our spiritual and ceremonial life. I have been serving Ojibwe communities in that capacity ever since.

I went to graduate school and became a professor of Ojibwe. I have nine children. My world has been filled with elders and children alike. I am so grateful for all the blessings and beauty in my life.

Where Wolves Don’t Die is the story of Ezra Cloud, a 15-year-old Ojibwe boy who is trying to find himself, while looking for clues to a murder. His family sends him to the Canadian wilderness to run a trapline with his grandfather, where he stumbles into a transformational self-discovery and learns more about his family, his culture and himself. The book is both a tense thriller and a tender coming-of-age story.

I wrote Where Wolves Don’t Die to turn Native fiction on its head. We have so many stories about trauma and tragedy, with characters who lament the culture that they were always denied. I wanted to show how vibrant and alive our culture still is. I wanted to create a story that was gripping but where none of the Native characters were drug addicts, abused or abusing others—one more like the Native life that I know. The oppressions Natives have endured are real, so I kept my work unflinching, but focused on healing. Where Wolves Don’t Die doesn’t just profess, but demonstrates the magnificence of our elders, the humor of our people and the power of forgiveness and reconciliation. I have written over 20 books, but this is my first novel. And it’s the best thing I’ve ever written.

Anton Treuer longed to leave the place where he grew up—but once he left, it was only a matter of time before he found his way back.
Children's & YAYA FictionYA

The Wilderness of Girls

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

In her eerie and engrossing debut, The Wilderness of Girls, author Madeline Claire Franklin invites readers to ponder the sometimes blurry line between belief and delusion, and to consider what it means to be free.

Sixteen-year-old Rhiannon Chase is barely hanging on. Her financier father is neglectful and angry, and her stepmother’s cruelty has led to Rhi’s decade-long eating disorder. But suddenly, salvation: Her father is arrested for numerous crimes, her stepmother flees and Rhi is taken in by her late mother’s brother, Uncle Jimmy. She barely knows him, but he’s attentive and kind, and even secures her a part-time job at the Happy Valley Wildlife Preserve. 

Rhi feels at home and alive as she rambles through the woods. But when she encounters four wild young girls surrounded by a pack of protective wolves, she doesn’t know what to think. As for what she feels? “She understands their pain, their grief, their loss, even though she knows nothing about them. Her throat aches to join them.”

Franklin reveals the girls’ astonishing story one tantalizing layer at a time via rotating perspectives, flashbacks, news articles and other narrative moves. She deftly builds tension as the girls warily contend with a host of strange new experiences, from eating with utensils to being placed with foster families. Rhi steadfastly helps care for the girls as her fascination with their strange past grows. Was Mother, the man who raised them, a kidnapper and brainwasher or a mystical prophet? Could Rhi be the sister in Mother’s mantra, “When the heavens meet the Earth and your fifth sister has arrived, you will return to Leutheria and save your kingdoms”?   

Magic, folklore and contemporary society collide in The Wilderness of Girls as it sensitively explores the pain of trauma, the beauty of found family and the possibility that “There is room for the unknown, the undefined. There is room for magic, and wildness. There is room for so much more than any of us had ever dared to imagine.”

Magic, folklore and contemporary society collide in The Wilderness of Girls as it sensitively explores the pain of trauma, the beauty of found family and the possibility of magic.

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