Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 39

reflecting on representation

At the end of every year, Edith Campbell and I compile a list of middle grade and young adult novels authored by African Americans. Our 2015 list was particularly demoralizing, with only 32 of 3,000 novels for young readers published by Black writers (and only 2 debut authors). Lee & Low’s Diversity Baseline Survey proves what many of us have known for years: white women run the publishing industry. Can we trust these gatekeepers to find the stories that fully and accurately reflect “the Black experience?” With so few books published annually, can we truly achieve excellence in African American children’s literature? This year Edi and I decided to reflect on these lists and what they tell us about the status of African American writers in the children’s publishing industry.

Zetta: Many people thank me for posting our annual African American MG/YA novel list, but I source the titles from your blog. When and why did you start keeping track of new releases by PoC/First Nations authors, and what compelled you to count debut authors?

Edi: This question made me go back to the early days of my blog and see what I could find about the beginnings of my book lists. On a post a few months after I began the blog, I mentioned that I was creating a book list for urban teens and that I would begin looking for books for Latino students soon. That first list was (and is) a mess. It contained every book I could think of regardless of when it was published. Every year, my list becomes more polished and more diverse. At some point, I decided to promote all Native American and authors of color and to post new books each month. I know that we’ve used my lists to locate Latinx books and African American speculative fiction. I’ve used it to locate books with African American female lead characters. I’m not sure if anyone else is using the lists as data, but they certainly could.

I think it’s important to take note of new authors. If that first book doesn’t sell as projected, their career is in jeopardy. So I create that list to start bringing attention to the debut authors. I’m not on a selection committee this year, so I’ll be able to interview them and review their books unlike last year. I’ve not paid a lot of attention to the ethnic breakdown of the debut authors list because, like it or not, all brown folk face the same basic discrimination in publishing. I do believe, however, that this year there are only 2 African American debut authors in a list of twenty, and they’re both female.

Edi: Are you ever surprised by what these lists of African American MG/YA fiction titles reveal?

Zetta: No, I’m never surprised. People want to believe we’re making “progress” because the word “diversity” gets bandied about on social media. But what’s needed in the “movement” for inclusive children’s literature is greater transparency. I get VERY tired of the relentless optimism and naïveté of some diversity advocates who refuse to grapple with the facts. If there are 3000 novels published for young readers in the US each year, then should we really be celebrating the publication of 30 Black-authored novels? And of those 30 authors, only TWO were making their debut in 2015? I think that’s appalling. I want our lists to put things in perspective, but I find people often use them in other ways—and that’s okay. My primary goal, however, is to reveal what’s really going on in children’s publishing here in the US. It always reminds me of that quote by Malcolm X about progress:

“If you stick a knife in my back nine inches and pull it out six inches, there’s not progress. If you pull it all the way out that’s not progress. Progress is healing the wound that the blow made. And they haven’t even pulled the knife out much less heal the wound. They won’t even admit the knife is there.”

We’ll never resolve the diversity disparities in children’s publishing if we don’t first acknowledge the severity of the problem. And that includes holding people accountable. Imagine what would happen if WNDB took to Twitter and asked their 20K followers to join them in demanding that the Big 5 each debut FIVE Black authors per year for the next 5 years. To quote another important Black male activist, “Power concedes nothing without a demand.” I’m still waiting for WNDB to demand SOMETHING, anything from the publishing industry. They have so much power and it seems they’re using it to uphold the status quo.

Zetta: You’re involved with WNDB. Describe your role and the impact you feel this young movement will have on racial disparities in kid lit.

Edi: My only formal connection to WNDB was being on the selection committee for the initial Walter Award. I think impact can only be measured in retrospect, and I would like to see it done on WNDB’s terms. I’m hoping they have measurable goals that will be clear indications of their success. I think WNDB developed at a time when awareness of marginalization was growing across industries, and the time was ripe for them to build an audience. From a variety of things I’m seeing, I do feel that diversity is not going away any time soon and I think that’s because WNDB has legitimized its presence in kidlit. At the same time, I think marginalization in kidlt (ha! in America) is so pervasive that it will take constant and consistent efforts on many fronts to change what’s being put in front of our children. Some of this is about economics, but it’s also about access to our children.

Edi: A lot has happened with regards to diversity in kidlit. What gives you hope that things are going to change, that there will be better representation for marginalized youth?

Zetta: Did I miss something? What has happened exactly? In what way has the status quo changed? I’m not optimistic, I’m afraid. Lee & Low’s Diversity Baseline Survey proves to the world what many of us have known for a long time: white, straight, middle-class cis women run this industry. Will they have a sudden epiphany, recognize the error of their ways, and vow to correct the disparities they’ve created? I doubt it. The publishing industry wasn’t designed to serve our children or our communities. The people who work in publishing, for the most part, are not from our communities. I advocate for a community-based publishing model that will empower marginalized people and turn them into consumers and producers of books. A public library in St. Paul, MN published books for speakers of Karen in their community—that gives me hope. A traditional publisher would argue that catering to such a small population wouldn’t make commercial sense, but imagine what it means to the members of that community to have books in their own language! What gives me hope is the impulse to make books for reasons OTHER than profit. Tell your story because it proves you believe your voice matters. Tell your story so that it can counter the dominant narrative. Tell your story because expressing yourself is good for you! Tell your story because if you don’t, someone else will. More than half of the children’s books about Blacks that were published in 2014 were written by whites. That’s not ok. Print-on-demand technology makes it possible for more and more people to tell their stories, their way—without interference from culturally incompetent gatekeepers. THAT gives me hope!

“find your own voice & use it”

I’ve had two opportunities to have my say recently. Last summer an editor at Publishers Weekly asked me to participate in a panel of “indie experts” but I declined because I didn’t feel I had enough expertise. The editor kindly suggested I write an article for him instead and it took me six months, but I finally got it done before Xmas. It went up yesterday; “How It Feels to Be Self-Published Me” was inspired by Zora Neale Hurston’s 1928 essay “How It Feels to Be Colored Me.” I had to cut about a third of it but I think my message comes through loud and clear, and it seems to be resonating with lots of folks online:

Like Hurston, I remember the moment I went from being an admired, multi-award-winning debut picture book author to a largely unknown, ignored, and even pitied self-published author. In the past two years I have published sixteen books for young readers, but my books are not eligible for review in the major outlets, public libraries refuse to acquire them for their collections, and major awards are no longer a possibility. Despite the many voices clamoring for books that better reflect the nation’s diverse population, my indie titles that center on marginalized children are summarily dismissed. And there is little I can do about this marginalization; there are no penalties when gatekeepers reject books simply because they don’t come from a system that’s rigged against writers of color. So have I really found the success I deserve?

On Sunday I had the honor of being featured on Dr. Ebony Thomas’ blog The Dark Fantastic. Ebony is a professor in the Graduate School of Education at the University of Pennsylvania, and with her graduate students she has compiled a list of children’s books that promote social justice (#Kidlit4Justice). Her grad students also came up with some thought-provoking questions:

5) A notable contingent of tweeters for #kidlit4justice have asked the twitter sphere to donate both money and books to libraries. What role have libraries paid in fighting for justice in the past, and does a similar role exist for libraries today or in future fights for justice? 

I grew up depending on libraries. My family didn’t have much money and we had no tradition of buying new books, but we all had library cards. The only diverse books in my library’s collection, however, were the ones that managed to win an award—like Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry. I think the field of library science needs to evolve and diversify so that collections do the same. The kid lit community in general is dominated by middle-class white women—they make up the majority of editors, reviewers, librarians, teachers—and they need to ask themselves what they’ve done and/or are doing to perpetuate racial disparities. Citizens also need to let their elected officials know that library funding is important, especially since public libraries do so much more now than just circulate books. The Brooklyn Public Library has sponsored my author visits for years, and through them I’ve reached hundreds of kids. But the BPL won’t acquire self-published books, so that leaves the vast majority of my books out of reach for kids who rely on the library. The BPL has asked me to develop a workshop on self-publishing and I think that’s the way forward—I believe in community–based publishing and think libraries should take the lead in developing producers of books, not just consumers.

I concluded my PW essay with a line from one of Jayne Cortez’ poems, “Find Your Own Voice.” We should all follow her advice! I’m grateful for the chance to share my point of view, and for everyone who took the time to read and respond. Every time we speak up for ourselves, we build community…

#1000BlackGirlBooks

Yesterday I had the opportunity to discuss diverse books with Lee & Low publisher Jason Low on The Brian Lehrer Show. I was invited to talk about Marley Dias’ remarkable book drive to gather 1000 books that feature Black girls. Friends on Facebook have been posting this story on my page for weeks, and a few days ago I finally packed up some of my books and mailed them off (if you’d like to donate, too, here’s the address: GrassROOTS Community Foundation, 59 Main Street, Suite 323, West Orange, NJ 07052). Jason was invited to share the results of Lee & Low’s Diversity Baseline Survey, which were released last week (see below). I had SO much to say about the need for “mirror books” and the problem with white women dominating the publishing industry, but we only had time to make a couple of remarks each before the host invited listeners to call in with their book recommendations. I’ve written elsewhere about my experiences with white women (see “sister/outsider” and “unmanageable me“), and this survey didn’t reveal anything I didn’t already know. But it’s important to have this graphic because it makes their dominance VISIBLE. When I say, “White women should be held accountable for the disparities in children’s literature,” some people (mostly white) think I’m being unfair. But the data prove that white women run this industry—and they make up the majority of teachers, librarians, booksellers, and nonprofit literacy advocates. So if the books Marley needs don’t exist or aren’t showing up in her classroom, who’s to blame?

Multicultural Children’s Book Day

January 27th is Multicultural Children’s Book Day! Join @MCChildsBookDay at 9pm EST for the MCCBD Twitter Party! Parents, teachers and librarians who register to come to our twitter party will have the chance to follow the #ReadYourWorld conversation and win one of 12 5-book bundles plus one grand prize bundle. Details are here.

be a witness

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received came from my graduate school advisor. She was teaching a seminar on Black popular culture and several first-year Black male students came to class every week ready for a fight. Now that I’ve taught at the college level for close to ten years, I realize those young men were probably trying to challenge my Black woman professor’s authority. She always let them have their say before showing them the error of their ways, but I remember walking out of the room one day when I’d had enough of their foolishness. Later she told me I needed to stay in the room. “Be a witness,” is what I remember her telling me. “And be strategic. You can’t reason with every idiot.”

I’ve applied that advice over the years, learning when its best to hold my tongue and when I need to jump into the fray. I often think of Toni Morrison’s reminder that racism is a distraction, and so I try to focus on getting my work done instead of chastising white folks every time they mess up. When it comes to men of color and sexism, I generally reserve my remarks for my private conversations with other women of color; we know there are consequences that come with criticizing “our men” in public but when we’re together, we can talk about how it feels when white women editors, educators, and librarians knock us down in their haste to get next to the one straight male author of color in the room. In our own company, we’re able to safely discuss “misogynoir“—the very real discrimination we face as Black women writers in an industry that’s dominated by white women gatekeepers. When I wrote my critique of All American Boys last week, I focused on what was missing from the book: the agency and voices of young Black women. I thought about that provocative video project “Every Single Word,” where you only hear the lines spoken by people of color in major motion pictures. If we did something similar for All American Boys, what would we hear from girls of color on the topic of police brutality? Not much. I emailed Jason Reynolds when the post went up, and yesterday he took the time to write this response:

Zetta, thank you for this post. As one of the writers of All American Boys, I don’t necessarily feel any need to offer a rebuttal. I have no reason to be defensive. The points you raise are spot on, and they are, in fact, things I’d thought about in the process of making this book. I even had a hard time with the title for this very reason. My hope was that Tiffany, who worked closely with Jill, would sing out more prominently as part of the planning of the protest, but while focusing on the story of Rashad and approaching it from his first person narrative, it didn’t come across as such. And for that, I’m accountable. I own that. I felt similarly about Berry. *You* see her as a young woman who is doing what her boyfriend tells her, and doesn’t know about her little brother’s experience’s with the cops. *I* saw her as a powerful character, smarter than everyone else in the story, working hard to make change in the community. I saw her as a blazer. As someone whose “role” was at the *front* of the line — the only singular voice heard at the protest. She was the leader. But we were in Rashad’s head, in his family, in his vacuum, so all the information is being disseminated through his closest of kin, his brother. But maybe Rashad should’ve had a sister. Reading your post makes it clear that Berry doesn’t come across as I’d hoped. And that’s frustrating. The hard part about writing a book like this (for me) was knowing that there was no way I was going to hit all the marks. And admittedly, I didn’t. But it wasn’t a blind, ignorant scribble (not that you said it was.) I recognize fully how important it is to do away with the erasure of black girls and women, and I truly appreciate the call-out. And you have my word, I’ll continue to try to do better.

All the love.

People on Facebook and Twitter are praising our civil, reasoned exchange, and I understand why. Too often when an author gets called out, s/he responds with defensive vitriol. It’s clear from his response that Jason had a different narrative unfolding in his head, to which I would say: “If you need a Black feminist beta reader, let me know.” Because whenever a problematic book comes out, it points to a failure of process. Writing is a solitary activity, but publishing a book is not. It would have been great if the editor of this novel thought about the exclusion of Black girls. It would have meant a lot to me if some reviewers gave the book the praise it deserves but also pointed out this particular limitation. The fact that neither of those things happened confirms for me that a lot of people in the kid lit community aren’t really thinking about Black girls. I don’t generally review books but I published my critique on my blog because I was trying to be strategic. I’ve only met Jason once, but he seemed like an open-minded person and the comment he left on my blog proves that to be true. I also heard he has a ten-book deal, which means he’ll have plenty of opportunities to write (better) Black female characters in the future. Will reviewers and librarians and editors educate themselves about intersectionality and misogynoir? I doubt it. And that puts the onus on the writer—WE have to work harder because we can’t rely on others in the publishing process to get it right. No writer is perfect—I make mistakes all the time. But I care about Black youth and I know Jason does, too. And that’s why we have to help and look out for one another.

This would make a great panel, don’t you think?

nobody’s cheerleader

A feminist friend of mine once shared with me that her eldest daughter was trying out for the cheerleading squad at her school. I understood her concerns, but pointed out that cheerleading can be quite athletic and there are competitions that have nothing to do with girls in miniskirts waving pompoms to encourage boys as they run up and down the basketball court or football field. In the end she decided to compromise; her daughter could try out for cheerleading so long as she also picked some extra-curricular activities that developed her intellectual abilities (I think her daughter opted for student government).

I used to say with pride, “I’m nobody’s cheerleader.” As a young Black feminist, I refused to engage in any activity that seemed designed to subordinate women in order to uplift men. Skimpy outfits aside, it’s frustrating to know that squads of boys/men never show up to cheer on women athletes. There’s no reciprocity—it’s all about celebrating male achievement. Yet as a teacher, I found that it often *was* my job to cheer from the sidelines as my students struggled to apply the lessons they learned from me in class. And there wasn’t much reciprocity because even though I could (and did) learn from my students, there was a built-in imbalance since I was being paid to serve them and not the other way around. I want *all* of my students to achieve but over the course of 25 years, I have gotten so used to purposely cheering on bright Black boys that I sometimes have to remind myself to give equal time to Black girls. Experience has taught me to expect Black girls to succeed (because they generally do) whereas experience has taught me that many Black boys struggle and will give up without extra encouragement. Yesterday was MLK Day and I went up to White Plains to present at a fundraiser for the MLK Freedom Library. It was a wonderful group that broke down in the usual way—several Black (grand)mothers with their kids, just one or two Black (grand)fathers with their kids, and quite a few older and younger Black women who came out (I think) to support their sorority, which co-sponsored the event. There was a Black boy sitting in the front who kept raising his hand to share personal anecdotes; sometimes I listened long enough to connect his comments to my presentation and other times I asked him to save his question or comment until the end. When I asked for a volunteer to read a passage on one of the slides, he waved his hand in the air and stood by the screen as soon as I called on him. I warned him that there were some big words in the passage but I would help him if he got stuck. Then I discovered that he could only read words with 2 or 3 letters, which meant that we read most of the passage together. But he kept his eyes on me and I knew the entire audience was cheering him on, and we all gave him a round of applause once he reached the end. Would a Black girl with limited reading skills wave her hand and ask to read aloud? I don’t know. Would the primarily female audience have gotten behind her in the same way? I hope so.

Black women are desperate to see Black boys succeed. We’re keenly aware of the many arenas where Black men are nowhere to be found; we feel their absence, mourn it, and generally do what we can to support the Black men who seem to be beating the odds. But it’s not easy being a Black feminist when there’s almost zero reciprocity, and standing up for Black girls can lead to charges of disloyalty to “the race.” Folks are worried that Will Smith and Michael B. Jordan weren’t nominated for an Oscar. I haven’t heard anyone mention that no Black women were nominated either, though I suppose that might be due to the fact that Black women are finally taking up space in television. Yesterday on the train ride back from White Plains I had an excellent conversation with two sorors I met at the event; we talked about politics and pop culture, the Black intellectuals we admire or can’t stand. We parted ways at Grand Central and on the subway back to Brooklyn I finished reading All American Boys. It’s an important book, I’m glad it exists. I’ve read all of Jason Reynold’s books and went into this one worried he’d give short shrift to Black girls—and I wasn’t disappointed. Despite giving a shout out in the acknowledgments section to women who are regularly rendered invisible in civil rights movements, no teenage Black girl has a voice or a significant role in the book. Black girls are the objects of desire for the book’s Black male characters—they’re there to “get all up on” and/or serve as props for teasing other boys. Considering the fact that young queer Black women FOUNDED the Black Lives Matter movement, it was disappointing to have a WHITE girl (written by the book’s white co-author, Brendan Kiely) be the one to introduce (at the end of the book). Black female victims of police brutality are named at the protest, but the one young Black woman with potential—Berry, a law student—is totally ignorant of her younger brother’s history with the police, and at the protest merely reads the script handed to her by her Black male boyfriend (and brother of the protagonist/victim). Imagine how different the book would be if instead of an older brother, Rashad had had an older sister—and she and her girlfriend organized the rally. Imagine if Tiffany, the girl Rashad hoped to “rub-a-dub on,” had been given a voice and an opportunity to talk about how police brutality impacted her life, her community, her personal sense of safety (think convicted rapist cop Daniel Holtzclaw and #BlackWomenMatter).

I don’t always get my Black male characters right. At the event in White Plains I talked with a Rastafarian scholar about how hard it was for me to make Judah homophobic. I want him to be a better person, but I can’t idealize a young man who realistically would disown his best friend for being gay. There’s been a lot of talk on social media about the appropriate way to “call out” or “call in” PoC who get it wrong when publishing books for young readers. I’m for accountability and I don’t have a lower standard for people of color—I actually hold them to a higher standard because unlike racist and/or ignorant whites, they should know better. We wouldn’t cut PoC officials slack if they played a role in poisoning the water in Flint, and we shouldn’t cut editors or authors slack when they produce toxic books for our kids. All American Boys is *not* toxic—it’s an important book, and I think it could be a useful teaching tool in the home and at school. It recently won a Coretta Scott King Honor Award and I believe its publication date was moved up in order to capitalize on the nation’s current interest in police brutality and youth movements. I have at least one professor friend who plans the teach the novel this spring, and I have already urged her to point out the absence of Black girls from the book. That kind of erasure isn’t new, and it’s the very reason we have hashtags like #SayHerName and #BlackWomenMatter.

Toni Morrison advised us to write the books we want to read rather than waiting for others to write them for us. Which is just what I plan to do…

see you in White Plains!

Deye mon gen mon

“Behind one mountain is another mountain.” I finished my novel last night, the novel I started back in 2003. I needed some help with a Haitian proverb and my friend Gabrielle kindly shared this one with me: “Deye mon gen mon.” I needed something an elder might say to a young person struggling to be true to herself, and this makes perfect sense. If you conquer one problem, there will always be another for you to deal with. So be prepared to keep climbing and don’t waste energy trying to dodge obstacles. I’ve finished a draft of The Door at the Crossroads, but I still have revisions to do and the fact-checking will take hours of additional research and I’ve got another MG novel to finish next month AND I’m working on a new picture book right now! But I’m still going to celebrate with cake later today. When it comes to publishing my work, there are too many mountains to count. But 2016 is the year for me to focus on abundance instead of lack. I still have over a dozen manuscripts on my hard drive and that means more opportunities to collaborate with talented people. Purple Wong (who illustrated I Love Snow) is working on another book for me and I’m loving her illustrations. I’m 43 and my dad died 12 years ago, but I still miss holding his hand and that prompted me to write A Hand to Hold. I don’t know how I’m going to turn the rest of these stories into books, but I know it can be done because I’ve already self-published 16 books! And if this editor rejects Crossroads, I’ll self-publish that as well. And then start climbing the next mountain…

 

the road rose up to meet me

Sometimes I need a little push because I’m not always motivated to push myself. I run every other day but I don’t time myself or think about finding a different route; I’m content to run the same circuit through the park with only an occasional detour. Yesterday I woke up, scarfed down a handful of almonds, and went to the park for a run. I considered running the whole park but took my usual shorter route—why not? I’m not a die hard runner (I prefer power walking) and only run (jog slowly) so I can fit into my jeans. I went home, made some oatmeal, and finished writing comments on my 10th graders’ report cards. Most of my students really put a lot of effort into the class, but one student always phoned it in and I found myself writing him a short lecture on the importance of self-motivation. How do we learn as children to push ourselves? In the early years we generally have an adult standing over us, making sure we do what’s expected of us. But then the adults move on and many of us have to learn to hold ourselves to a higher standard because most folks don’t expect a whole lot from a young person of color. I’ve been underestimated most of my life and I think that motivates me to excel. Yet once my reports cards were turned in, I thought about whether or not I really wanted to walk over to the convent I’m writing about. Founded by Irish nuns, Mercy Home (as it’s now called) is in Clinton Hill and used to take in “unwed mothers” back in the 1860s. I’d already written a scene set in the convent but figured I could go see what it looks like now and maybe try to peek inside. But it was a grey day and the scene was already written…I don’t generally struggle with self-motivation but some days it’s easier to just curl up with my laptop and a cup of tea; I’m averaging 1300 words a day and at this rate, I should finish the novel by the end of the week (YAY!). I’m keeping my Xmas tree up until this novel’s done, and its soft lights make it tempting to plant myself on the couch and write using only the resources I find online. But then I decided I wanted cake, and I did need to go to the bank, and my short run only earned me 6000 steps…so I took the shuttle train three stops and then walked, and walked, and hoped the convent would be worth the trek. It was! I couldn’t find an entrance and so walked around the block until I saw a woman exiting through a door in the fortress-like wall. I went up to the door and thought about pressing the buzzer, but then thought maybe a glimpse of the courtyard was enough. I’d taken pictures of the convent’s exterior so maybe I should call it a day and just go get some cake. But then a young Black man saw me peering through the door and said, “You coming in?” Before I could answer he opened the door from the inside and then asked if I knew where I was going. I told him I wanted to see inside the convent’s oldest building and he directed me to the basement entrance. A sign next to the door said to press the bell and face the mounted camera. I did that three times but nothing happened. “Oh, well—I tried,” I thought to myself. I couldn’t see anyone through the glass part of the door but knocked anyway and a friendly face immediately appeared. Because I didn’t give up, I got a tour of the first floor of the historic convent including the Heritage Room and the chapel, which is stunning. Afterward I got my cake, went to the bank, came home, put my feet up (14,000 steps!), and rewrote the chapter I set inside an inaccurately austere convent. I logged off after writing 1400 words and sent a thank-you email to my friendly tour guide. When you have an active imagination, it can be easy to opt out of the real world. People have been pretty disappointing as of late and it makes me want to stay off Facebook, turn off the nightly news, and just stay home where I’m safe inside my head. But that’s not how life works and when you go out to meet the world, sometimes the road really does rise up to meet you.

2015 African American MG & YA Fiction

It’s that time of year again! Middle grade (MG) and young adult (YA) novels by African American authors often don’t get the kind of publicity they need to reach readers, so each year we put together a list of the books published in the US. We want to celebrate Black authors who got their books into print, but we also want to remind folks that around 3,000 novels are published for young readers in the US each year. So this is also a reality check! These annual lists get the most hits on my blog, and many educators and librarians tell me they never knew half of these titles were published—which means they weren’t added to classrooms and library collections. If I’ve missed a title, let me know in the comments section. I do NOT include self-published titles because we’re trying to paint a picture of the traditional US publishing industry’s output. This list is built from Edith Campbell’s 2015 Booklist, which includes African American, Latino, Asian American, and Native American authors.

The Boy in the Black Suit by Jason Reynolds (Atheneum). Soon after his mother’s death, Matt takes a job at a funeral home in his tough Brooklyn neighborhood and, while attending and assisting with funerals, begins to accept her death and his responsibilities as a man.
X: A Novel by Ilyash Shabazz and Kekla Magoon (Candlewick). Malcolm Little’s parents have always told him that he can achieve anything, but from what he can tell, that’s a pack of lies—after all, his father’s been murdered, his mother’s been taken away, and his dreams of becoming a lawyer have gotten him laughed out of school. There’s no point in trying, he figures, and lured by the nightlife of Boston and New York, he escapes into a world of fancy suits, jazz, girls, and reefer. But Malcolm’s efforts to leave the past behind lead him into increasingly dangerous territory. Deep down, he knows that the freedom he’s found is only an illusion—and that he can’t run forever. X follows Malcolm from his childhood to his imprisonment for theft at age twenty, when he found the faith that would lead him to forge a new path and command a voice that still resonates today.
Stella by Starlight by Shapon Draper (Atheneum). When a burning cross set by the Klan causes panic and fear in 1932 Bumblebee, North Carolina, fifth-grader Stella must face prejudice and find the strength to demand change in her segregated town.
Chasing Freedom : The Life Journeys Of Harriet Tubman And Susan B. Anthony, Inspired By Historical Facts by Nikki Grimes and Michele Wood (Orchard Books). In this imaginative biographical story, Harriet Tubman and Susan B. Anthony sit down over a cup of tea in 1904 to reminisce about their struggles and triumphs in the service of freedom and women’s rights.
Streetball Crew Book Two Stealing the Game Hardcover by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar & Raymond Obstfeld (Disney Hyperion). When eighth-grader Chris’s older brother, Jax, is caught betting on the pick-up basketball games that Chris and his friends play, Chris becomes involved in the police investigation.
Gone Crazy in Alabama by Rita Williams-Garcia (Harper Collins/Amistad) Delphine, Vonetta, and Fern are off to Alabama to visit their grandmother Big Ma and her mother Ma Charles. Across the way lives Miss Trotter, Ma Charles’ half sister. The two half sisters haven’t spoken in years. As Delphine hears about her family history, she uncovers the surprising truth that’s been keeping the sisters apart. But when tragedy strikes, Delphine discovers that the bonds of family run deeper than she ever knew possible.
This Side of Home by Renée Watson (Bloomsbury). Twins Nikki and Maya Younger always agreed on most things, but as they head into their senior year they react differently to the gentrification of their Portland, Oregon, neighborhood and the new–white–family that moves in after their best friend and her mother are evicted (ages 12-18).
The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind young readers edition by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer (Penguin). When a terrible drought struck William Kamkwamba’s tiny village in Malawi, his family lost all of the season’s crops, leaving them with nothing to eat and nothing to sell. William began to explore science books in his village library, looking for a solution. There, he came up with the idea that would change his family’s life forever: he could build a windmill. Made out of scrap metal and old bicycle parts, William’s windmill brought electricity to his home and helped his family pump the water they needed to farm the land. Retold for a younger audience, this exciting memoir shows how, even in a desperate situation, one boy’s brilliant idea can light up the world. Complete with photographs, illustrations, and an epilogue that will bring readers up to date on William’s story, this is the perfect edition to read and share with the whole family (ages 10 and up).
by Mo’ne Davis (HarperCollins). At the age of thirteen, Mo’ne Davis became the first female pitcher to win a game in the Little League World Series and the first Little Leaguer to be featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated. A month later she earned a place in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. This inspiring memoir from a girl who learned to play baseball with the boys and rose to national stardom before beginning eighth grade will encourage young readers to reach for their dreams no matter the odds. Mo’ne’s story is one of determination, hard work, and an incredible fastball. Mo’ne Davis is a multisport athlete who also plays basketball and soccer, and is an honor roll student at her school in Philadelphia.
The Boy Who Carried Bricks: A True Story by Alton Carter (Roadrunner). Abandoned by his father, neglected by his mother, shuttled between foster homes and a boys ranch, a young African-American man refuses to succumb to the fate that the world says should be his. Told by the man who lived it (ages 12-18).
The Sweetest Heist in History (Randi Rhodes Ninja Detective) by Octavia Spencer (Simon and Schuster). A hard-to-prove art heist makes a New York City mystery for ninja detective Randi Rhodes in this second book in a series full of humor, adventure, and heart from Academy Award–winning actress Octavia Spencer. Randi Rhodes and her fellow ninja detectives, DC and Pudge, were flying high after solving the Case of the Time-Capsule Bandit. But life in sleepy Deer Creek has begun to feel…a bit boring. There are no crimes to investigate! But a trip to New York City to visit Randi’s aunt changes that! While the ninja detective trio explores Randi’s old neighborhood in Brooklyn, they uncover an art heist. Except no one will believe them. So they’ll just have to catch the criminals in the act… (ages 8-12).
Endangered by Lamar Giles (HarperTeen). The one secret she cares about keeping—her identity—is about to be exposed. Unless Lauren “Panda” Daniels—an anonymous photoblogger who specializes in busting classmates and teachers in compromising positions—plays along with her blackmailer’s little game of Dare or . . . Dare. But when the game turns deadly, Panda doesn’t know what to do. And she may need to step out of the shadows to save herself . . . and everyone else on the Admirer’s hit list (ages 12 and up).
Tiny Pretty Things by Sona Charaipotra and Dhonielle Clayton (HarperTeen). Gigi, Bette, and June, three top students at an exclusive Manhattan ballet school, have seen their fair share of drama. Free-spirited new girl Gigi just wants to dance—but the very act might kill her. Privileged New Yorker Bette’s desire to escape the shadow of her ballet star sister brings out a dangerous edge in her. And perfectionist June needs to land a lead role this year or her controlling mother will put an end to her dancing dreams forever. When every dancer is both friend and foe, the girls will sacrifice, manipulate, and backstab to be the best of the best (ages 12-18).
Bayou Magic by Jewell Parker Rhodes (Little, Brown). It’s Maddy’s turn to have a bayou summer. At first she misses life back home in the city, but soon she grows to love everything about her new surroundings — the glimmering fireflies, the glorious landscape, and something else, deep within the water, that only Maddy sees. Could it be a mermaid? As her grandmother shares wisdom about sayings and signs, Maddy realizes she may be only the sibling to carry on her family’s magical legacy. And when a disastrous oil leak threatens the bayou, she knows she may also be the only one who can help. Does she have what it takes to be a hero? (ages 8-12).
Make it Messy by Marcus Samuelsson and Veronica Chambers (Delacorte). Marcus Samuelsson’s life and his journey to the top of the food world have been anything but typical. Orphaned in Ethiopia, he was adopted by a loving couple in Sweden, where his new grandmother taught him to cook and inspired in him a lifelong passion for food. In time, that passion would lead him to train and cook in some of the finest, most demanding kitchens in Europe. Samuelsson’s talent and ambition eventually led him to fulfill his dream of opening his own restaurant in New York City: Red Rooster Harlem, a highly acclaimed, multicultural dining room, where presidents rub elbows with jazz musicians, aspiring artists, and bus drivers. A place where anyone can feel at home (ages 12 and up).
Delicate Monsters by Stephanie Kuehn (St. Martin’s Griffin). When nearly killing a classmate gets seventeen-year-old Sadie Su kicked out of her third boarding school in four years, she returns to her family’s California vineyard estate. Here, she’s meant to stay out of trouble. Here, she’s meant to do a lot of things. But it’s hard. She’s bored. And when Sadie’s bored, the only thing she likes is trouble. Emerson Tate’s a poor boy living in a rich town, with his widowed mother and strange, haunted little brother. All he wants his senior year is to play basketball and make something happen with the girl of his dreams. That’s why Emerson’s not happy Sadie’s back. An old childhood friend, she knows his worst secrets. The things he longs to forget. The things she won’t ever let him. Haunted is a good word for fifteen-year-old Miles Tate. Miles can see the future, after all. And he knows his vision of tragic violence at his school will come true, because his visions always do. That’s what he tells the new girl in town. The one who listens to him. The one who recognizes the darkness in his past (ages 14-18).
Rid wit’ Me Part 2 by Joy Deja King (A King Production Presents A Young Diamond Book). The Romeo and Juliet of the streets are back in Ride Wit’ Me part 2. Mercedes and Dalvin are fighting to keep their love intact and make it down the isle. Will the two lovebirds be able to overcome their obstacles and finally become husband and wife? Find out in this next installment.
Dork Diaries 9: Tales From A Not So Dorky Drama Queen by Rachel Renée Russell (Aladdin). Nikki’s diary is up to the month of April, and springtime is sure to bring more wacky adventures with Nikki and her friends Chloe, Zoey, and Brandon! (ages 9-13).
Show and Prove by Sofia Quintero (Knopf). The summer of 1983 was the summer hip-hop proved its staying power. The South Bronx is steeped in Reaganomics, war in the Middle East, and the twin epidemics of crack and AIDS, but Raymond “Smiles” King and Guillermo “Nike” Vega have more immediate concerns. Smiles was supposed to be the assistant crew chief at his summer camp, but the director chose Cookie Camacho instead, kicking off a summer-long rivalry. Meanwhile, the aspiring b-boy Nike has set his wandering eye on Sara, the sweet yet sassy new camp counselor, as well as top prize at a breakdancing competition downtown. The two friends have been drifting apart ever since Smiles got a scholarship to a fancy private school, and this summer the air is heavy with postponed decisions that will finally be made. Raw and poignant, this is a story of music, urban plight, and racial tension that’s as relevant today as it was in 1983.
Finding Someplace by Denise Lewis Patrick (Henry Holt and Co.). Reesie Boone just knows that thirteen is going to be her best year yet-this will be the year she makes her very first fashion design on her Ma Maw’s sewing machine. She’ll skip down the streets of New Orleans with her best friends, Ayanna and Orlando, and everyone will look at her in admiration. But on Reesie’s birthday, everything changes. Hurricane Katrina hits her city. Stranded at home alone, Reesie takes refuge with her elderly neighbor, Miss Martine. The waters rise. They escape in a boat. And soon Reesie is reunited with her family. But her journey back home has only begun. This is a story of a family putting itself back together, and a young girl learning to find herself.
Shadows of Sherwood (Robyn Hoodlum series) by Kekla Magoon (Bloomsbury USA). The night her parents disappear, twelve-year-old Robyn Loxley must learn to fend for herself. Her home, Nott City, has been taken over by a harsh governor, Ignomus Crown. After fleeing for her life, Robyn has no choice but to join a band of strangers-misfit kids, each with their own special talent for mischief. Setting out to right the wrongs of Crown’s merciless government, they take their outlaw status in stride. But Robyn can’t rest until she finds her parents. As she pieces together clues from the night they disappeared, Robyn learns that her destiny is tied to the future of Nott City in ways she never expected.

Kicking off a new series with an unforgettable heroine, readers will be treated to feats of courage and daring deeds as Robyn and her band find their way in this cruel, new world.
Untwine by Edwidge Danticat (Scholastic). Giselle Boyer and her identical twin, Isabelle, are as close as sisters can be, even as their family seems to be unraveling. Then the Boyers have a tragic encounter that will shatter everyone’s world forever. Giselle wakes up in the hospital, injured and unable to speak or move. Trapped in the prison of her own body, Giselle must revisit her past in order to understand how the people closest to her — her friends, her parents, and above all, Isabelle, her twin — have shaped and defined her. Will she allow her love for her family and friends to lead her to recovery? Or will she remain lost in a spiral of longing and regret? Untwine is a spellbinding tale, lyrical and filled with love, mystery, humor, and heartbreak. Award-winning author Edwidge Danticat brings her extraordinary talent to this graceful and unflinching examination of the bonds of friendship, romance, family, the horrors of loss, and the strength we must discover in ourselves when all seems hopeless (ages 12 and up).
Everything Everything by Nicola Yoon (Delacorte). My disease is as rare as it is famous. Basically, I’m allergic to the world. I don’t leave my house, have not left my house in seventeen years. The only people I ever see are my mom and my nurse, Carla. But then one day, a moving truck arrives next door. I look out my window, and I see him. He’s tall, lean and wearing all black—black T-shirt, black jeans, black sneakers, and a black knit cap that covers his hair completely. He catches me looking and stares at me. I stare right back. His name is Olly. Maybe we can’t predict the future, but we can predict some things. For example, I am certainly going to fall in love with Olly. It’s almost certainly going to be a disaster (ages 12 and up).
Hoodoo by Ronald L. Smith (Clarion Books). Magic: hoodoo, as most people call it. But even though his name is Hoodoo, he can’t seem to cast a simple spell. When a mysterious man called the Stranger comes to town, Hoodoo starts dreaming of the dead rising from their graves. Even worse, he soon learns the Stranger is looking for a boy. Not just any boy. A boy named Hoodoo. The entire town is at risk from the Stranger’s black magic, and only Hoodoo can defeat him. He’ll just need to learn how to conjure first. Set amid the swamps, red soil, and sweltering heat of small town Alabama in the 1930s, Hoodoo is infused with a big dose of creepiness leavened with gentle humor (ages 10-12).
Juba!: A Novel by Walter Dean Meyers (Amistad). This engaging historical novel is based on the true story of the meteoric rise of an immensely talented young black dancer, William Henry Lane, who influenced today’s tap, jazz, and step dancing. With meticulous and intensive research, Walter Dean Myers has brought to life Juba’s story. The novel includes photographs, maps, and other images from Juba’s time and an afterword from Walter Dean Myers’s wife about the writing process of Juba! (ages 12 and up).
Monster: A Graphic Novel by Walter Dean Myers, Guy A. Sims, Dawud Anyabwile (Amistad). A stunning black-and-white graphic novel adaptation of Walter Dean Myers’s Michael L. Printz Award winner and New York Times bestseller Monster, adapted by Guy Sims and illustrated by Dawud Anyabwile. Monster is a multi-award-winning, provocative coming-of-age story about Steve Harmon, a teenager awaiting trial for a murder and robbery. As Steve acclimates to juvenile detention and goes to trial, he envisions the ordeal as a movie. Monster was the first-ever Michael L. Printz Award recipient, an ALA Best Book, a Coretta Scott King Honor selection, and a National Book Award finalist (ages 12 and up).
President of the Whole Sixth Grade by Sherri Winston (Little, Brown). Brianna Justice is determined to raise enough money for the big class trip to Washington, D.C., but she’s up against a lot: classmates who all pretend to be something they’re not, a new nemesis determined to run her out of office, and the sinking feeling she’s about to lose her two best friends. But just when she begins to lose hope, she comes to realize that sometimes surprises can turn out even better than the best-laid plans (ages 8-12).
The Toymaker’s Apprentice by Sherri L. Smith (G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Children). Stefan Drosselmeyer is a reluctant apprentice to his toymaker father until the day his world is turned upside down. His father is kidnapped and Stefan is enlisted by his mysterious cousin, Christian Drosselmeyer, to find a mythical nut to save a princess who has been turned into a wooden doll. Embarking on a wild adventure through Germany, Stefan must save Boldavia’s princess and his own father from the fanatical Mouse Queen and her seven-headed Mouse Prince, both of whom have sworn to destroy the Drosselmeyer family (ages 10 and up).
See No Color by Shannon Gibney (Carolrhoda Labs). Alex has always identified herself as a baseball player, the daughter of a winning coach, but when she realizes that is not enough she begins to come to terms with her adoption and her race (ages 12 and up).
The Middle School Rules of Charles “Peanut” Tillman by Sean Jensen and Max Smith (Broadstreet Publishing). A collection of stories from the childhood of Charles “Peanut” Tillman, who would grow up to play as a cornerback for the Chicago Bears and have his off-field work recognized with the 2013 NFL Man of the Year award (ages 8-12).
This Way Home by Wes Moore and Shawn Goodman (Delacorte). Elijah, seventeen, has always been sure of just one thing–basketball–and believes it will be his way out of West Baltimore, but when gang violence knocks him down, helping a veteran repair his rickety home helps Elijah see what really matters (ages 12 and up).
All American Boys by Jason Reynolds and Brendan Kiely (Atheneum/Caitlyn Dlouhy Books). A bag of chips. That’s all sixteen-year-old Rashad is looking for at the corner bodega. What he finds instead is a fist-happy cop, Paul Galluzzo, who mistakes Rashad for a shoplifter, mistakes Rashad’s pleadings that he’s stolen nothing for belligerence, mistakes Rashad’s resistance to leave the bodega as resisting arrest, mistakes Rashad’s every flinch at every punch the cop throws as further resistance and refusal to STAY STILL as ordered. But how can you stay still when someone is pounding your face into the concrete pavement? But there were witnesses: Quinn Collins—a varsity basketball player and Rashad’s classmate who has been raised by Paul since his own father died in Afghanistan—and a video camera. Soon the beating is all over the news and Paul is getting threatened with accusations of prejudice and racial brutality. Quinn refuses to believe that the man who has basically been his savior could possibly be guilty. But then Rashad is absent. And absent again. And again. And the basketball team—half of whom are Rashad’s best friends—start to take sides. As does the school. And the town. Simmering tensions threaten to explode as Rashad and Quinn are forced to face decisions and consequences they had never considered before.Written in tandem by two award-winning authors, this tour de force shares the alternating perspectives of Rashad and Quinn as the complications from that single violent moment, the type taken from the headlines, unfold and reverberate to highlight an unwelcome truth (age 12+).
The Jumbies by Tracey Baptiste (Algonquin Young Readers). Corinne La Mer isn’t afraid of anything. Not scorpions, not the boys who tease her, and certainly not jumbies. She knows that jumbies aren’t real; they’re just creatures parents make up to frighten their children. But on All Hallows’ Eve, Corinne chases an agouti all the way into the forbidden woods. Those shining yellow eyes that follow her to the edge of the trees, they couldn’t belong to a jumbie. Or could they? Corinne begins to notice odd occurrences after that night. First she spots a beautiful stranger speaking to the town witch at the market. Then this same beauty, called Severine, turns up at Corinne’s house, cooking dinner for her father. Danger is in the air. Sure enough, bewitching Corinne’s father is the first step in Severine’s plan to claim the entire island for the jumbies. Corinne must call on her courage and her friends and ancient magic to stop Severine and to save her island home (age 9-12).
Amphibians’ End: a Kulipari Novel by Trevor Pryce, Joel Naftali, and Sanford Greene (Harry N. Abrams). In this third book of the Kulipari series, the future of the Amphibilands has never looked so bleak. With Lord Marmoo stronger than ever and still maniacally bent on taking over the outback, Darel can’t fathom why the Rainbow Serpent wants him to lower the Veil, the Amphibilands’ only source of protection. But the Serpent’s message is clear, and in preparation for the inevitable battle, Darel and the Kulipari go out in search of someone—anyone—to fight on their side. In their travels, the frog warriors make a perilous discovery: the outback’s water supplies are mysteriously disappearing. Without water, there can be no life. With the odds stacked against them, Darel and the Kulipari must take one final stand to protect their home, before it becomes . . . the Arachnilands. The Kulipari trilogy comes to its thrilling conclusion in this action-packed adventure by NFL veteran Trevor Pryce and acclaimed comics artist Sanford Greene (age 8-12).