The Mealworm Diaries

I mightn’t have come across this title if it hadn’t ended up in a big box of books I’m reading right now for an awards committee I’ve joined. I’m happy that it found its way to me, because it’s a satisfying, well-written, not-very-long middle grade title that I’ll be happy to slide into my classroom library. The Mealworm Diaries is Anna Kerz’s debut novel and it is the story of Jeremy, a kid who  moves from rural Nova Scotia to Toronto, after a tragedy in his family. Here’s some of the jacket copy:

Mealworms are small creatures that live in dark secret places. Jeremy is a bit like that when he and his mother leave their home in rural Nova Scotia and go to live in Toronto. Not only does Jeremy have a secret that keeps him from enjoying his new life, he also has a science partner who is more annoying than sand in a bathing suit.

This is a school / friendship / family story, about a kid struggling to get his life back after a terrible loss. Not exactly new territory, but I will say that Kerz has worked the material respectably, creating a plot that really keeps moving, and establishing a thoroughly convincing school setting, with a strong dynamic between the student characters. Jeremy comes through as a fairly rounded character, but it’s Aaron, his highly unusual science partner and wannabe best friend, who leaps from the page. He is 99% annoying and 100% endearing. Just about everyone has known a kid a bit like Aaron. You know the type who says whatever he’s thinking and never stops moving for a second. Any teacher will recognize Aaron. The way that Kerz has conveyed this character indicates that she’s a new writer worth watching. In my view, the ending is way too tidy, too easy and “all’s well that ends well” to be fully satisfying. Still, as a whole, the novel certainly works and feels carefully constructed. For fans of Joey Pigza and Andrew Clements’ novels, The Mealworm Diaries will leave fans of realistic fiction feeling good and ready for whatever Kerz is working on next.

The Mealworm Diaries is published by Orca.

Medina Hill + a visit from Trilby Kent

Today’s it’s my treat to welcome Trilby Kent, debut author of the middle grade historical novel, Medina Hill. Trilby is touring around the kidlitosphere this week, beginning with Toronto-based blogs (her native city), and ending in UK-based blogs (her current home base). Other tour stops today include:

Cindy’s Love of Books
Librarian By Day
Melanie’s Musings
Lauren’s Crammed Bookshelf

Here’s the teaser for Medina Hill, provided by Tundra:

In the grimy London of 1935, eleven-year-old Dominic Walker has lost his voice. His mother is sick and his father’s unemployed. Rescue comes in the form of his Uncle Roo, who arrives to take him and his young sister, Marlo, to Cornwall. There, in a boarding house populated by eccentric residents, Marlo, who keeps a death grip on her copy of The New Art of Cooking, and Dominic, armed with Incredible Adventures for Boys: Colonel Lawrence and the Revolt in the Desert, find a way of life unlike any they have known. Dominic’s passion for Lawrence of Arabia is tested when he finds himself embroiled in a village uprising against a band of travelers who face expulsion. In defending the vulnerable, Dominic learns what it truly means to have a voice.

After reading Medina Hill, I’ll certainly be on the look out for whatever Trilby writes next. The main reason? Originality. An author who creates a story that’s just a little bit unusual (in concept or characters), as this one is, automatically warrants keeping an eye on, in my opinion. I enjoyed the way Trilby brought diverse elements together in this book. I thought it was an interesting approach for Dominic to be inspired by the past so that he might take hold of his present life and come into his own towards the end of the book. Naturally, I loved all of the passages focusing on his sister Marlo’s passion for cooking (a girl after my own heart, that Marlo). Read this bit:

My sister wasn’t complaining, mind. But The New Art of Cooking had opened another world for her. I guess it was an escape. There was a section called “Feasts from the Arabian Nights,” and another one called “Medieval Meats, Meads, and Mushrooms.” Marlo took to carrying it around with her the way a baby clings to her blanket. “You don’t even know how to boil water,” I’d sneered at her, irritated by the fact that she seemed so content, safe in a world of Sunday roasts and jelly trifles. “What’s the point of reading a book for housewives?” Marlo had gazed up at me with those dumb, gray eyes and replied, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Medina Hill explores some of my favourite themes: the blessing in discovering the things that matter to you most, learning to accept yourself and so finding the courage to change and grow, and the power one discovers when facing the world with a curious spirit and an open mind. Those are some big ideas for a slim book.

I thought this was a quirky read, with characters I wanted to know more about. I suppose that’s the only aspect of the book that wasn’t fully satisfying. There were so many unusual characters, indeed the plot necessitated a cast of oddballs, but I wanted more scenes through which readers could connect to them and come to understand them more deeply. It seemed like many of the secondary characters came and went rather quickly, with only a couple of scenes each. Perhaps it’s just that the book could have stood to be quite a bit longer. I think the overall impact would have been stronger with more of the story and characters fleshed out a bit more fully. In some respects, I don’t think Medina Hill is written for a broad readership, because not all kids will appreciate or perhaps even understand Dominic’s passion for such a specific period of history, though many may identify with his fears and self-doubt. This said, I was certainly attracted to the range of subjects presented here, from the history of Lawrence of Arabia to Romany life to cooking and baking and even clairvoyance. The eclectic subject matter intrigued me and could easily have supported a lengthier narrative.

Now I am happy to present Trilby Kent herself – and her two main characters as well, Dominic and Marlo, for a chat about what inspires them most about their particular passions. Welcome Trilby & Co!

First Light

There’s been so much talk over the past few months about Rebecca Stead’s second novel for Middle Grade readers, When You Reach Me. Buzz, buzz, buzz. Awards whispering. I’ve read it and I loved it, just like everyone else. Certainly, When You Reach Me makes book people look at Stead as a writer with many, many books in her future, and it’s the sort of book that should make readers wonder what she’ll write next. I decided to read First Light because I was so impressed by When You Reach Me. As it turns out, Stead’s first book has tremendous merit as well, and is in many ways, as creative and finely wrought as her latest novel.

First Light may be science fiction, but it is a story that is incredibly timely, as the “real world” thread of the narrative focuses on a boy whose scientist father is studying global warming. Peter is thrilled at the chance to travel with his parents to Greenland, where his father will be conducting field work. His mother is also a scientist, who studies mitochondrial DNA. For as long as Peter can remember, she has suffered from terrible, debilitating headaches that seem to shift her whole mood towards a sadness no one can penetrate. As the family is caught up in preparations for their journey, Peter begins to experience more frequent headaches himself, sometimes accompanied by strange visions. He wonders if he has inherited some secret illness from his mother, but neither of his parents ever speak to him about his mother’s headaches, and Peter wonders if there is a something serious that they are keeping from him. He doesn’t realize it, but this trip to Greenland will take him to the heart of the mystery he is only beginning to sense. The second thread of the narrative belongs to Thea, a girl who lives underneath the arctic ice in a community forged by a hunted people, generations before her. Her ancestors came to live in Gracehope, a secret world that they build under the ice, and ever since then, they have feared the outside world. Thea is not afraid, however. Rather she dreams of seeing the sky and the horizon and the constellations she has only read about. She wants to travel to the surface, but to do so, she must act in secret, turning against the wishes of many elders in Gracehope. Peter and Thea are destined to meet, and when they do both find answers to questions they didn’t even know they had.

What’s remarkable about First Light is its potential to appeal to all sorts of different children. Do you like science? Read this. How about arctic adventures or survival fiction? Read this. Realistic family stories? Yep. Unsolved mysteries? OK. Secret worlds? Here you go. With all this going on, you might wonder if Stead has taken on too much. Is she trying to bring together way too many genres and topics? No way. Somehow, everything feels balanced and connected. In creating and describing Gracehope, her world-building is outstanding. Stead pays attention to details and makes sure we can imagine them, from the berry pancakes that Thea eats for breakfast and her fur outerwrap and the seven bracelets on her arm, to the decriptions of the skaters streaming down the Mainway and the vast icy council chamber where the elders meet. All of it is there for us to picture. This makes for a more powerful reading experience, and of course, any science fiction or fantasy fan looks for convincing world building.

Odd and the Frost Giants

I think I need to create a new category for tagging reviews: ageless. (Or age-defying, or age-free?) Neil Gaiman’s Odd and the Frost Giants is the sort of story that anyone with even the tiniest smidge of youthful spirit left inside them will treasure. It’s a story to remind you of the first fairy tales you read by yourself, or had read to you. Remember? You were probably sitting tucked up in a blanket, far away in your imagination in cursed lands, with heroes on quests and magical creatures as your companions. That’s exactly what you’ll find in Gaiman’s most recent short tale inspired by Norse mythology.

Things are not well with Odd. His father has been lost in a Viking expedition. He’s been nearly crippled by an accident that left his leg shattered. Then, to make it all even harder to bear, there’s the endless winter that seems to have settled over his village. Everyone is grouchy and fearful about what will happen if spring never comes. So Odd takes off. He runs away, not with any real purpose. He finds a purpose, however, when three animals find him: a bear, a fox and an eagle. Odd learns these are no ordinary creatures, but in fact, they are much more than they seem. The three are Norse gods, Thor, Loki and Odin, who’ve been transformed into animals by an angry Frost Giant. The giant has captured the gods’ city, Asgard, and for as long as he is there, winter will not leave the land. Odd joins them and they journey to Asgard, where Odd proves that no matter how unassuming he might seem, or how insignificant, he is capable of great things.

This was such a sweet little tale. You’ll like Odd a great deal, for his pluck and his sheer determination. In a short book, we get a strong sense of his character. The Norse gods in animal form are pretty funny. They are a bumbling, blaming, frustrated trio and it’s hard not to laugh at their predicament. I imagine this will make a fabulous read aloud, partly because it’s so short. It could be enjoyed in just a few hours. For a child with any interest in mythology (aka most kids), it’s perfect. I’m thinking this is the stocking stuffer for Christmas this year. It has the feel of a tale that’s been around for a while, which is always the sort of book that grandparents, in particular, like to give. Also, it must be said that the book itself is lovely in its design. It’s small, with a wintry dark blue and gold colour theme going on, that really reinforces the idea of it as a classic-in-the-making. Brett Helquist’s illustrations are spot on, I only wish there had been even more of them, and maybe even one or two in colour plates. My favourite: the one where the three god / animals are grumping about their fate, trying to blame each other. The expressions say everything.

Here’s the trailer:

Gaiman wrote the book for World Book Day in the UK, an amazing-sounding annual event where kids get tokens for books for just £1. I wish Canada would jump onto that idea.

Odd and the Frost Giants is published by Harper.

Silverfin: the Graphic Novel

I thought Charlie Higson’s first Young Bond novel, Silverfin was all kinds of fantastic – the suspense, the atmosphere, the bad guys, the action sequences and narrow escapes. All parts of it made me into an instant Bond fan. This is saying a lot because I was a girl who had at that time never (yes, never), watched a Bond movie. I knew nothing of Sean or Pierce or Daniel. I do now. Since Higson’s first book, I’ve not only caught myself up on the films, I’ve tried to keep up with the rest of Higson’s series (now at 5 books), but I’m a tad behind. I’m thinking the best plan is a Bond marathon over Christmas break? Until then, I picked up Silverfin – the Graphic Novel to get me back in the spy spirit.

Now, for fans of the novel, there’s quite a bit that isn’t in the graphic version in terms of plot. That’s understandable of course, since given the length of the original, a whole lot of exposition and dialogue had to be cut out. I like exposition and dialogue. That’s the kind of reader I am. I wonder if I had not read the novel beforehand, would I still have felt that the graphic version moved a bit too rapidly, without quite enough time spent on each of the various plot threads and character development? Perhaps not. But that’s how I felt. I found myself rounding the characters out, filling them in in my mind based on my memory of the novel. There’s an interesting interview with Higson, in which he comments on the challenges of converting his text to the new format, and he notes that it wasn’t easy to do, that ideally, more length would have been nice. Still, it works quite well, and most definitely the pages keep on turning. The brisk pacing and excitement is still there in full force.

The art work by Kev Walker and the layout design pack a real the visual punch. I loved the way the colour palette shifted as the story moved from one place to another, signaling a new sequence and setting. The opening section at the loch, all red and black, is super creepy and matches the horror of the events to perfection. The Eton sections are pale, quite muted, as if you’re watching an old film – just right in spirit for the classy and legendary school. When James comes face to face with the true evil secret of Hellebore’s Castle, everything suddenly turns deep shades of bright green, you know the “scientist gone bad” green colour (think Hulk). The colouring supported the text the same way music might in a film, changing as the mood changed, but not in a way that was heavy-handed.

My overall assessment? Well worth reading. Good fun for those who are already fans of the novels, who can fill things in a little along the way. You might be wondering about the first chapter? I know I was. The first chapter of Silverfin has to be one of the spookiest, most suspenseful openings I’ve ever read, period. Let’s just say the graphic version of the opening was good enough to inspire an immediate second reading. If you’re not shuddering by page 5, you should have your head examined.

Silverfin – the Graphic Novel by Charlie Higson & Kev Walker is published by Puffin.

(This is cross-posted at Guys Lit Wire).

Dani Noir

Every so often I’ll read a book written for kids or teens and I will feel sad that it wasn’t around when I was actually a kid or a teen. It might be because the story has an element that I think only kids can fully appreciate, say something particularly silly or wildly imaginative, and I’ll wonder what the 10-year old me would have thought about it. Or it might be, as is the case with Nova Ren Suma’s outstanding debut tween mystery, Dani Noir, that I think the book could have opened me up to something years before I actually ended up experiencing that thing in my life, and here I’m talking about black and white films. If I’d been able to read Dani Noir as a kid, I would have become a film nut at the age of ten, I am convinced of it. Forget the fact that my tiny hometown didn’t even have a video rental place for most of my formative years, let alone an arty movie theatre showing film noir every night of the week. I would have made it happen somehow with my 3 television channels and giant old family TV. This book might have turned me into the film nerd I am today, but twenty years sooner.

It’s the summer before eighth grade and Dani Callanzano has a lot of time on her hands. The last thing in the world she wants to do is go visit her dad, who now lives across the river with his fiancée and her horrid daughter Nichole, but there isn’t much to do in Shanosha either. Good thing she’s got the Little Art, a tiny movie theater that brings some drama to Dani’s otherwise unexciting mountain town. Dani’s on a film noir kick, and her favourite actress of-the-moment is Rita Hayworth. Dani says, “Most kids my age have no clue who she is. When they think of a big movie star they think of someone like Jessica Alba. But if Jessica and Rita Hayworth were in the same scene and the cameras were rolling you’d forget Jessica was even there.” (Aren’t you liking this kid already?) After an awful first visit her her dad’s new place, Dani heads back to Theater 1, taking refuge in front of the movie screen. It isn’t long, however, before her favourite escape becomes the centre of a mystery, revolving around a strange girl in polka dot tights. When Dani’s imagination starts rolling, things only get more complicated and she starts to see how real life can get be whole lot messier than the movies.

I loved how Dani likes to reimagine her world as if she was making a film, in the director’s chair. Chapter One was really brilliant, as Dani narrates her life at the moment as if she was directing a film about it: “The room would be dark and you’d get a close-up of just my face. That’s when I’d do this whole series of expressions with my eyes. You see fear. Joy. Rage. Bliss. Misery. Passion. Plus lots more stuff I don’t even know the words to. Then I’d take a few steps out of the frame and the shadows would swallow me. And no one would be able to find me after that.” The book is full of great passages like that, that reveal Dani’s flair for the dramatic and her vulnerability all at once. She’s a nuanced, complicated character. She wants drama, but doesn’t. She wants drama when it’s on the screen, but not when she’s living it. I think that’s just such a true observation about being a kid. Most kids crave drama but when it shows up, they want normal back: “Sometimes the bad guy is a person you love. A person you can’t just kick out of your life. And when the movie ends, and the curtain goes down, and the audience leaves the theater, you’re stuck in what’s known as real life. That’s where all the lights are on and the flawed people you’re related to are saying lines you don’t want to hear and there’s no one to yell “Cut!” to make it sop.” Any kids of divorced families who can relate to that? Hands up? I thought that Nova Ren Suma portrayed Dani’s confusion and hurt about her family situation perfectly. She’s mad but she doesn’t know if she should be, or who she can blame, or if she should blame anyone. All of it’s there.

I’d read more stories featuring Dani in a heartbeat. Dani’s a star in the making. Visit the book’s website for lots more and take a closer look at the development of the stunning cover art at Marcos Calo’s blog. Please let lots of kids discover Dani.

Other reviews:

Bri Meets Books

Fuse 8

Educating Alice

Reading Rants

Skeleton Creek

Two years ago I would have rolled my eyes if someone had put Patrick Carman’s Skeleton Creek in my hands. The “multi-media” content (that is, videos and text combined) would have made me an instant skeptic. I probably would have labeled it as gimmicky and shelved it without a moment’s pause. Now that I am much more technologically enlightened, only a tiny bit of skepticism lurked as I started reading (watching?) this book a few days back. I was actually pretty excited to see how the video / text concept worked out. All it took was one video installment and I was hooked. Kind of made me wonder if even the purest, most traditional bookworm can’t be seduced by a little film.

Privacy is a religion in Skeleton Creek. For Ryan McCray and his best friend Sarah Fincher, it’s always felt like everyone in town had secrets. For instance, why was their town’s name changed to Skeleton Creek and why is there a secret society known as The Crossbones? In the past, the town was connected to the now bankrupt New York Gold and Silver Company and the teens are certain that an abandoned dredge, once used to mine gold, is at the center of the mystery they feel permeating the Creek. So they investigate the dredge one night and an accident leaves Ryan with a serious broken leg and also results in both of their sets of parents forbidding the two to see or communicate with each other for good. But neither of them can forget what they saw, or think they saw, that night. Ryan writes all that he remembers in his journal and Sarah continues to stay in touch with him through vlogs that she sends to him, which include footage of their night at the dredge and other film that she takes as she continues looking for answers. As the friends get closer to some kind of truth, they have to ask themselves, should they return to the dredge and face what they think is inside, or stop asking the questions that might lead to the worst kind of accident imaginable?

Sunny Holiday

This was a random library find for me the other day. I haven’t read any of Coleen Murtagh Paratore’s other titles, but I know of her Wedding Planner’s Daughter series. It was the cover that grabbed me, and it’s no wonder! My well-honed Julia Denos radar is clearly at work. I love her art (she’s got oodles and oodles of talent, that one). The brightness of the colours, the fab pink shoes and the quirkily-named title character all said “sweetness” to me. I was right. There is some serious sweetness going on in this slim novel for younger readers, with enough struggle to be thought-provoking and to inspire conversation.

Sunny is as bright and positive as her name. Her mother likes to remind her that “the sun shined so bright and long the day (Sunny) was born, the stars got jealous and complained to God.” She tries to see the good in the world, in the people around her and in herself. It might not always come easily, but Sunny is willing to work at it. She loves holidays more than anything and she’s troubled by the fact that January and August are lacking in the holiday department, so she starts planning holidays with particular kid appeal to fill in the gaps. Sunny’s life isn’t perfect in every way. Riverview towers, her apartment building, might be full of many interesting and warm-spirited people, but the neighbourhood leaves a lot to be desired, what with the litter, the straggly trees, the chain-link fences and the polluted river. Sunny’s dad is in jail and she only gets to visit him the first Sunday of every month. Her mom works long hours as a hotel maid and then fills up her nights taking care of Sunny and taking college courses. Still, Sunny’s home is full of love and creativity and wisdom. The novel is a gentle portrait of a little girl who faces some hard situations with natural grace, humour and hope.

I read Sunny Holiday in one sitting. It was Sunny’s voice that drew me in, her poetic way of seeing the world. I loved the first chapter called “Dandelions.” Here’s one of the nicest bits:

“We don’t have a park or a yard, either, just one long, dirty-gray cement sidewalk. But that doesn’t stop a dandelion. A dandelion seed is smarty-pants-smart. That seed sails off on a wispy balloon, riding free on a summer breeze, search-search-searching for a home. It knows for sure it will find one. All it sees is sidewalk, sidewalk, sidewalk. Does it give up? No, it does not. That little seed keeps searching until it spots a crack. “Whoopee! Whoopee! Whoopee!” it shouts, and dives in for a happy landing. But then that seed realizes it’s all alone and sits there shaking, not sure just what to do next. Does it give up? No it does not. It sends down a skin-skinny raggedy root, far below, where no one can see, look-look-looking for dirt it can trust. that may take a very long time.”

Each little chapter is so short and yet there is a lot of emotion packed into every tiny package. I was reminded of Sandra Cisneros’s The House on Mango Street (gosh I love that book!) There’s the same true kid’s perspective in this book and in places, the same heart-squeezing effect as Sunny struggles against the circumstances of her life. My only complaint is that in places, Sunny came off a little Pollyanna-ish. You almost couldn’t believe that she would be so persistently positive. This is a small thing however. Mostly, you’ll just wish you could manage to see the world the way she does, always looking for good things and working to make changes to improve the rest. This would be an excellent title for use in the classroom, to initiate conversations around inclusion, compassion and creativity. It handles the more challenging background issues carefully, with just the right amount of information for a younger reader. Perfect for Grade 4, I should think.

Sunny Holiday is published by Scholastic Press.

Paris Pan takes the Dare

Middle Grade mystery. Three words that immediately pique my interest. Add to those three words “smart and sassy protagonist” and I’m sold. A good middle grade mystery can shake me out of a funk better than just about any other type of book. I treated myself to Cynthea Liu’s recently released MG mystery, Paris Pan takes the Dare, and I vowed it would be one of my last reads of the summer, before things go all crazy in classroom-land.

Paris Pan is the new kid in town. She has a lot of experience with this role because her family moves every eight months or so, as soon as her father finishes building and then selling their latest house. Paris is keenly aware of the various consequences of this nomadic lifestyle: “One, in the middle of the night, I’ve almost gone to the bathroom in a closet twice. Two, my school transcript is longer than any Harry Potter book. And three, my lifelong friend roster has only one name on it – my dog’s.” While she half-jokes about it, there are real and difficult problems with her family’s unusual way of life. Her dad isn’t around much, since he’s always off supervising the next project, the family’s soon-to-be home. Her mom has to work long hours as a computer programmer to make ends meet, but finances are still a constant struggle. When Paris arrives in Sugar Lake Oklahoma, she discovers it isn’t so hard to find friends when there are only a couple of girls in her class in the first place. Too bad it doesn’t take long for Paris to realize her “friends” are not exactly ideal friend material. Secretly, she’d rather hang around with the class dork and the girl everyone calls Freak. Soon after moving, Paris learns that a girl died very close to her house when undergoing a seventh-grade rite of passage known as “the Dare.” This makes the strange noises and odd night-time sightings Paris has been experiencing all the more disturbing. When her friends decide they should all take the dare together, Paris has to try to make sense of the weirdness, sorting out friends from frenemies and ghosts from perfectly explicable occurrences before things get seriously out of control.

Cynthea Liu has a clean and highly readable writing style. You don’t feel like there are a lot of wasted words on the page but you’re still getting careful characterization (even with the secondary characters) and detail enough to make situations easy to imagine. I thought she captured the middle grade girl voice particularly well. Here’s the opening:

“Where should I start? The first time I felt my life hanging in the balance? Or the moment I believed the deceased had a way of talking to me? Or maybe I ought to begin with the second I walked into that school. Looking back, I should have been suspicious from day one, but now I know that when you want something badly enough, you’ll do anything to get it.

You’ll lie to your friends.

Steal from your family.

Eat a whole box of Creamsicles.

You might even go so far as taking the Dare.”

That’s pretty efficient writing, if you ask me. Talk about a lesson in how to open a novel. Less than 10 sentences in and you’ve already got a solid sense of this character’s personality and funny/sometimes-sarcastic voice, a little foreshadowing, and a teasing intro to the central conflict. Nice work Cynthea.

The plot is exciting, and quite spooky, what with the creepy run-down shed in the woods behind Paris’s house, the night-time laughter, and the freaky porcelain dolls lying around the property. It’s just right that there are unanswered questions about the girl’s death, and that this ambiguity is never really resolved even at the end. Aside from being a page-turning mystery, this is a book about why kids label each other and how even a good kid can find it difficult to risk her reputation by giving outsiders a chance. It’s about learning to make an effort to create relationships that are meaningful and rich, rather than just going with the status quo because it’s simpler or cooler or less painful.

Bobby vs. Girls (Accidentally)

Wowza! There are so many early chapter / middle grade series out there now, and it seems like more and more crop up all the time. I think that this is fantastic because this is such a critical stage for readers, when they first start reading more independently. We need good stuff to grab them, and finding a great series always feels that little bit more delightful because you know you’ve got a lot of great reading ahead. It’s wonderful to have an increasingly wide choice of titles of a really high caliber for these newer readers: Clementine, Alvin Ho, Moxy Maxwell, and now Bobby versus Girls (Accidentally).

This is Lisa Yee’s debut series for middle grade and it’s already grabbing lots of stellar reviews. Speaking of stellar, it will be one of Horn Book’s starred titles for September/October, and it deserves it. Bobby versus Girls (Accidentally) follows Bobby Ellis-Chan as he tries to navigate the beginning of Grade 4 without seriously embarrassing himself. This isn’t easy to you when your dad, a retired football star known as “The Freezer” also happens to be your stay-at-home mom, your best friend is a girl and has suddenly started acting like one, and you have a natural talent for making yourself look goofy in front of your whole class. Lisa captures perfectly that tricky time for kids around the age of 10 when boys and girls aren’t supposed to get along, let alone be friends. She shows how this time of figuring out friendships and taking chances with new people is not simple for a kid who has always had the same best friend since forever. I liked that the characters are well-drawn in not a lot of pages, and there’s a sweet sense of humour that will appeal to boys and girls alike. She’s got the up and down again dynamic of friendship at this age just right. It’s day-to-day life, captured with freshness. Plus Dan Santat’s bold and expressive illustrations looked pretty great even in draft form in my ARC, matching Lisa’s energetic and straight-up writing style completely. Put Bobby versus Girls (accidentally) into the hands of any kid trying to figure out a friendship gone wacky. Problem solved!

Bobby versus Girls (Accidentally) is published by Arthur A. Levine Books, an imprint of Scholastic.