Tennis is Dara’s life—she’s been playing for as long as she can remember, so she’s stoked to have the chance to compete internationally. She’s eager to get a passport, but she’s a bit nervous to ask her mom, Mellie, for her birth certificate; Mellie has always been reticent about the identity of Dara’s father.

Dara secretly uncovers the document, only to realize she doesn’t recognize the names of her father or her mother. Her mind reels—has she been kidnapped? Adopted? What she knows for sure is that she’s been lied to. When Dara confronts Mellie, she learns the shocking and initially disconcerting truth—Mellie is transgender and was actually Dara’s biological father. Feeling betrayed, lost and uncertain of her past and future, Dara takes off with her best friend, Sam, to find her biological mother’s parents and learn more. When Dara meets them, she immediately feels loved and accepted. But as she learns more—from her grandparents and also from the simultaneous stream of constant and honest emails from Mellie—Dara comes to the crux of the matter as she posits, “Could it be possible that where I come from and who I am are two different things?”

And She Was is a stunning and timely novel that presents a raw story of what it means to be transgender. This is an important and conversation-sparking addition to any YA collection.

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

Grace King is determined to avoid turning into her mother, who left when she was still a child. Since that day, Grace’s father has been doggedly researching a cure for the schizophrenia that his beloved wife suffered from. He has become distant and consumed by this goal, and he’s missing signs of the same disease manifesting in his daughter. But Grace is smart and independent, and her internship at her father’s lab helps her discover a potential breakthrough in schizophrenia research. However, the events leading up to her discovery are thrown into doubt by the unraveling of her own mind. Can Grace’s findings be trusted, and can she be trusted to know what is truly real?

Printz Award winner An Na’s brilliant new work is a slim yet power-packed read. She digs deep into the mind of a teen with schizophrenia, immersing readers in Grace’s scattered thoughts, hallucinations and delusions. The dizzying pace of the narration at times leaves the reader confused about what is truly happening around Grace and what is not. Through short chapters divided by seasons, readers witness the progression of Grace’s illness as her reality becomes more and more distorted.

An incredibly immersive story that is both excellent and unsettling, younger teens would benefit from reading The Place Between Breaths with an adult.

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

BookPage Teen Top Pick, April 2018

What is the color of grief? When 15-year-old Leigh thinks about the answer to this question after her mother’s suicide, she feels empty—translucent. She’s an artist, and every feeling she experiences has a corresponding color.

There’s so much Leigh is struggling to understand—the depression that lead to her mother’s death, her frustrating romantic feelings for her best friend, her family’s long-buried secrets and her own Taiwanese-American identity. But the most puzzling of all is how her mother turned into a beautiful red crane, and what the bird’s nighttime visits mean. The first message she can interpret urges her to visit her maternal grandmother and grandfather (Waipo and Waigong) in Taiwan, where she can immerse herself in her mother’s world of Mandarin and Taiwanese culture as she’s always longed to do.

The Astonishing Color of After is Emily X.R. Pan’s debut novel, and it gracefully explores the depths of a teen’s trauma without ever feeling overly dramatic or saccharine. The thread of magical realism is woven through this story so skillfully that the reader will join Leigh in accepting it almost immediately. The story is centered on a heart-wrenching mystery (how should Leigh interpret the last line of her mother’s suicide note and her spirit’s puzzling transformation?), yet Pan’s prose is as warm and free-flowing as Waipo’s oolong tea, making this story a surprisingly uplifting one.

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

Centuries before the #MeToo movement entered the cultural landscape, there was Artemisia Gentileschi.

Born in Rome at the turn of the 17th century, Artemisia was introduced to painting by her artist father after she showed more talent than her brothers. She became a masterful Baroque artist in her own right, with paintings that reflected feminist concerns and employed an eye-opening realism during a time when art—like the entire world—was dominated by men. In her debut novel, Blood Water Paint, Joy McCullough recounts in fictionalized free verse a pivotal time in Artemisia’s life.

Set in 1610, the story begins with 17-year-old Artemisia assisting her father in his painting studio. She ponders her own talent (she paints better than her father yet receives no proper credit), her role and identity as a woman, and her sexuality. She soon realizes that women are dismissed as “beauty for consumption.” Artemisia’s most troubling observations are confirmed when her father, in the guise of procuring a high-profile commission, hires fellow artist Agostino Tassi to tutor her. Instead of guiding Artemisia, he rapes her, and although she calls out to the house servant, Tuzia, no one comes to her aid. Despite the strong possibility of being shamed as a result, the teen seeks justice in court. Adding insult to injury, the judge requires Artemisia to undergo humiliating, invasive and tortuous tests to prove she isn’t lying.

With care and precision, McCullough marks how these events shaped Artemisia’s work. Perhaps because Tuzia didn’t respond when she needed her, Artemisia’s paintings emphasize the power of solidarity among women. Her narration, interspersed with prose from the perspective of her older self, draws inspiration from the women of the Bible, such as Judith and Susanna. Most importantly, readers see the teen’s strength as a survivor of sexual assault. Ever resilient, she proclaims, “I am not a thing / to be handed / from one man / to another.”

Although Artemisia lived centuries ago, her story will resonate with modern feminists.

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