One of my most successful reading recommendations (and most successful sci-fi series out there right now!) in recent years is Martha Wells’ Murderbot One of my most successful reading recommendations (and most successful sci-fi series out there right now!) in recent years is Martha Wells’ Murderbot series. I got my dad and several friends hooked on it and never looked back. While I haven’t read any of Wells’ other work, I’ve heard good things about her fantasy fiction for… decades?! When my preorder of Witch King came in (and Wells is now at auto-buy status, because OF COURSE) I didn’t put it off until summer – I read it immediately and loved it.
Kai is a demon who can never go back home, thanks to the mysterious and awful conquering Hierarchs. In the process of dominating the world as Kai knew it, the Hierarchs also destroyed his culture, family, and changed the course of the future. Although Kai himself can’t die, he also can’t go back to “before” and the innocence of youth. That’s the past. And now Kai has to deal with deception and betrayal in the present too – who tried to murder and trap him forever in a watery tomb? He’ll need to quickly eliminate suspects, gather allies, and survive those hunting him.
It's been a minute since I read a truly EPIC fantasy – one with so many characters that you need a cast list at the front of the book, and a map to keep track of the scope of their adventures. Wells asks the reader to immediately dive into her epic, and to juggle dual perspectives of baby Kai of the past and betrayed Kai of the present. It is gripping reading – after all, the past is slowly being unraveled and understood, and the present is all about figuring out who tried (and almost succeeded) in ending Kai. Kai himself has a limited omniscient perspective – he lived “the past,” but he wasn’t around for every single speck of it and didn’t get into the motivations of each of his allies and enemies. I wouldn’t recommend this read as an audiobook due to the sheer number of characters and the intermingling of past and present narratives, but I do think most everyone has the stamina to take it on, if willing to put in a little effort. You have Wells’ trademark loveable killers as a reward if you do!
So what are the tasting notes of this book? One of the most pervasive themes of Witch King is the effect and aftermath of empire, as seen through one demon’s eyes. Kai experiences profound personal loss and sees even more devastation in the world at large, but also (as an undying character) has unique hindsight/insight to evaluate both his own actions and those of others at a remove. Does outliving those who made the world as it is fundamentally change a person? It’s an interesting question, and one that Wells attempts to answer in the person of Kai.
Another important theme is that of found family, and what friendship is made of. Kai has trust issues after the murder attempt at the start of the book, and throughout the story he grapples with distrust and cynicism, while also longing to connect with those around him. The other characters that populate Witch King of course have their own desires and ends – and Wells does an excellent job of rounding them out and making the whole cast dynamic. I’d love to read a series of standalones based in this world – there is enough detail, backstory, and angst to fuel more stories!
One of the most interesting bits for me as a reader was unraveling what fueled the magic in Kai’s world. Magic = power, and of course the conquerors had their own sources, different than that of those they subjugated and destroyed. It was a complex and interesting puzzle. And a final note, I loved the way Wells played with gender and social constructs related to it – I feel like I need some visual aids (quick, someone go make fan art!) to really picture it all. But regardless, it was unputdownable.
In all, Witch King is an epic fantasy for those who love thinking about power, rebellion, and the different ways that humans respond to terrible events. In Kai, Wells has created a sharp-edged but lovable immortal who reluctantly charms both his book compatriots and readers.
Recommended for: fans of Martha Wells, and those who enjoy reading speculative epics in fully realized worlds like those of Herbert, Sanderson, Novik, etc. ...more
Goodness, it’s been months since I posted a book review! Life gets in the way – and it’s easy for me to prioritize anything else (especially as a schoGoodness, it’s been months since I posted a book review! Life gets in the way – and it’s easy for me to prioritize anything else (especially as a schoolteacher during the school year!). I haven’t abandoned books… but I have been reading them more slowly than expected. What better way to ease into reviewing again than to pick up an excellent picture book? Matthew Forsythe’s Mina is a vibrant, funny, and inventive tale for the younger set.
Mina the mouse lives with her father, and mostly doesn’t mind that his ideas are big and not always… wise. She distracts herself with books and things turn out alright in the end, after all! But when her father brings home a squirrel – something doesn’t seem right. And that’s because the squirrel isn’t a squirrel at all! The book's marvelous detail and silly-serious adventure dovetail nicely with an important message: trust your instincts!
Mina is a funny and beautiful picture book with a twist, featuring anthropomorphic animal shenanigans and delightful details that will entrance readers of all ages. The story is simple, and the text brief – most of the plot is revealed through Forsythe’s lush art. There are several jokes throughout that rely on visuals for the punchline – antique art (stamps) on the walls of the mouse abode, the “squirrels” Mina’s dad takes in are cats – and one or two jokes that are a silly fun in their juxtaposition (stick bugs with charismatic voices who have stolen Mina’s books!).
That art I keep mentioning is uniquely lovely. The mice (and various other foregrounded characters) are fairly flat, two-dimensional figures against more meticulous and light-filled backgrounds. Fosythe’s linework changes colors and has a textured feel. Each spread looks a bit like a marriage between Alice in Wonderland and Studio Ghibli, if they were created using only pastels. The real star of the show is the subtle lighting and shadow Forsythe plays with, to create variations and depth. It is a delightful read, and a feast for the senses.
In all, Mina is a fun and funny book — perfect for springtime, with a bright color palette and outdoor adventures. It is sure to please as both a read aloud and an independent read for six- and seven-year-olds.
Recommended for: storytimes with kids ages 4 and up, fans of Kate Read and Bethann Woollvin’s picture books, and anyone who enjoys beautifully illustrated volumes with a sense of humor....more
There’s a lovely tradition in the high school I work at where teachers to post the title of the book they’re currently reading on their classroom doorThere’s a lovely tradition in the high school I work at where teachers to post the title of the book they’re currently reading on their classroom door. I was puttering around last Friday, packing up before Winter Break, and I changed my sign over to show my latest read, Kindra Neely’s graphic novel Numb to This: Memoir of a Mass Shooting. A student who has struggled in my class asked me about it, and then wanted to see the book, and then asked when is it gonna be on the bookshelf? I was reading a library copy, but you can bet I placed an order for this one as soon as I had a spare moment. In my opinion, there’s nothing better than finding a book (the right one, the one they choose!) for that student who needs it. And on top of that, this book is a must-read – an important, shattering story from a gun violence survivor – a chance to listen to someone share what that aftermath looks and feels like.
Kindra Neely survived the Umpqua Community College mass shooting in Oregon in 2015, and her beautiful, poignant, and searing memoir of the years after is absolutely required reading. There’s some background and context-setting, but the majority of Neely’s book focuses on the day of the shooting and what happened next: how she reacted in the short- and long-term, the impact of PTSD on her life, and the reality of a suicide attempt: all while presenting a front to the world. In the 300 pages of this debut graphic novel, Neely lays herself bare for a purpose, saying “I…went looking for a book about how to deal with the aftermath of a shooting, but I couldn’t find one. Maybe I could make a book to show people like me that they aren’t alone, or that their feelings are normal.”
Neely’s story is not just one of trauma, though it does deal with that. It keeps the tension between hope (she survived, she keeps surviving, she finds meaning in making art & helping others) and realism (there are bad days full of fear, depression is very real, and some people are uncomfortable around those who are open about their trauma). The pacing and scene changes are also telegraphed well and keep the “journey” of Neely’s life (narrative) moving. It is also heartwarming to see the real-life friends come alongside Neely in tough moments, and vice versa, even though no one is without flaws (except maybe Neely’s mom). The supportive, healthy relationships and networks from her life are excellent guides for young readers to follow, internalize, and model in their own lives.
Pacing and storytelling in the graphic novel format rely so much on the art… and I just want to say that Neely’s art is fabulous. I would have no idea that this was a debut – her style and linework are polished, modern, and evocative. The emotion bleeds through the pages, and while this volume is in full color, I think Neely’s neat linework and focus on facial expressions would work in any color palette. There’s doesn’t seem to be a predominant or overarching color theme, but teals and purples show up quite a bit in scenes set in Oregon, and harsh yellows and reds during moments of stress and trauma. Overt symbolism of dragonflies appears throughout (and is explained directly in the text).
Overall, Neely’s story and art are indistinguishable/inseparable – and the result, a compulsively-readable volume, allows her to be vulnerable in the service of helping others. Numb to This is heart-wrenching and incisive and belongs in every high school library in the country.
Recommended for: high school nonfiction collections, and anyone ages 14+ who has been touched by a mass shooting in some way (at this point, everyone in the US)....more
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m glad, as an adult with limited free time for reading, to have the motivation (and a list of nominees!) I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m glad, as an adult with limited free time for reading, to have the motivation (and a list of nominees!) of being a panelist for the Cybils Awards. It focuses my reading, forces me to set aside the time in my schedule, and picks some of the best titles of the year that I might not have heard of already. A book I wouldn’t have selected on my own, but enjoyed immensely, was Sid Sharp’s elementary/middle grade graphic novel The Wolf Suit.
Bellwether the sheep is afraid… of wolves. And since wolves live in the forest, he’s afraid of the forest as well. Since his house is *in the forest* this is really cramping his flower-smelling and blackberry-eating lifestyle! In a fun and funny graphic novel for the ages 7+ set, author-illustrator Sharp plays with the traditional tale of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Their lovely, stylized, and slightly unsettling artwork is juxtaposed with humor, and twists and turns for a thoroughly entertaining volume.
The Wolf Suit features themes of changing yourself to fit expectations or face your fears and finding unique ways to cope with the tough moments in life. But really, the themes take a back seat to the entertainment factor, which I think is just right for the target age of the audience. Bellwether the sheep also has some mad quilting skills – I appreciated that were no gendered activities/expectations in this book! The moments of hilarity resulted most often from the creatures’ expressions, the situation, and the narrative’s surprises.
Graphic novels live and die by their art, and this title is no exception: it features lush full-color art done in pencil, watercolor, ink, acrylic, and dirt (yes, that last one was a surprise to me too!). In my notes I originally wrote that the art was gorgeous – and I do think it is. But it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea because it’s not cute and sanitized. It’s meant to have a bit of an edge, and I loved that. Mushrooms and spiders appear on several pages, so young readers accustomed to reappearing motifs in picture books will have fun looking for those. The endpapers featured beautiful details of the natural world, with slightly creepy offset eyes – all adding up to a whole that is a little zany and a lot of fun.
In all, The Wolf Suit is beautifully designed, engaging, and just sinister enough. It’s the next step up from Bethann Woollvin’s picture book fairy tale retellings, and features funny anthropomorphic fantasy with no magic, but with a twist.
Recommended for: graphic novels for the younger end of the middle grade reading category (ages 7-9, most likely), and anyone who appreciates twists or new takes on fairy tales....more
One of the things I value about volunteering as a Cybils Awards judge is the element of book discovery. I have publishers, authors, librarians, bloggeOne of the things I value about volunteering as a Cybils Awards judge is the element of book discovery. I have publishers, authors, librarians, bloggers, etc. that I trust to suggest excellent titles, and I don’t step outside that circle very often. But the Cybils push me to read more widely within a genre (in this year’s case, in graphic novels). One book that I’m not sure I would have picked up on my own? Nominee Alte Zachen / Old Things by Ziggy Hanaor, illustrated by Benjamin Phillips. And that would have been a tragedy because it’s a heart-full title, and one I’ve been thinking of over and over since I put it down.
In Alte Zachen (Yiddish for “old things,” as the title suggests), grandmother Rosa and her young grandson Benji zigzag New York City on a mission: to gather the necessary ingredients for Friday night dinner. Along the way Rosa comments on the changes in the city, and in life and culture over time. Some of these remembrances and flashbacks are sweet, but many are bittersweet, or sad, or resonate with unfulfilled longing. The parallel journeys of a modern-day shopping trip and a long life, combined with watercolor illustrations in a wash of grays and other muted colors, create a deeply impactful narrative.
Some of the most poignant moments in the book occur when Bubbe Rosa is rude, and Benji must deal with this embarrassment in the moment, and buffer between her and others. These moments aren’t indicative of a cruel temperament, but rather open the way for the reader to learn about some of the traumas of Rosa’s life: escaping to Switzerland from Germany ahead of the Holocaust, the loss of old love, changes to cultural norms, and more. At the same time, you feel almost viscerally for Benji, who loves his grandmother but is trying to gracefully manage in the real world. His Bubbe is trying to impart words and traditions (there’s a Yiddish glossary at the back for context if the reader is struggling), and Benji is just trying to get them to the shops and back without incident. It’s sweet, authentic, and entirely human.
Phillips’ art – a muted watercolor palette in the book – contrasts with the bright orange of the book’s spine, title, and end papers (illustrations of lots of everyday food items in black-and-white on an orange background in a repeating pattern). The art feels unfinished and unpolished in a way, even as it washes over memorable architecture in precise detail. There are wordless stretches, where the art is the only context, and Phillips’ art then shines with the attention to expressions, small details, and the elements of culture: dancing, music, and family. Somehow, they all come to life, in real ways.
In all, Alte Zachen / Old Things is a tribute to memory, to culture, and to intergenerational relationships. It’s a lovely meditation on how we pass on ourselves to our loved ones – imperfectly, but with care (and feeding). I loved it, and I think you will too.
Recommended for: fans of contemporary graphic novels featuring intergenerational relationships, Jewish traditions and culture, and city life. Excellent reading and art for the 12+ set, though appropriate for younger ones as well. ...more
After my own years in school ended and before my teaching days, I didn’t take much notice of themed months of the year. For instance, did you know thaAfter my own years in school ended and before my teaching days, I didn’t take much notice of themed months of the year. For instance, did you know that November is National Native American Heritage Month in the United States? I didn’t! Luckily it’s been mentioned in several teaching and book publishing newsletters I subscribe to. What I find helpful is that those newsletters often come with book recommendations or lists included – titles that I can add to the shelf to make my classroom library (or even just personal library!) a little more inclusive and representative of my students and the US as a whole. One book I haven’t seen on any lists but want to make sure you know about is the young adult graphic novel anthology Woman in the Woods and Other North American Stories, edited by Kel McDonald, Kate Ashwin, & Alina Pete. It is the fifth installment in the Cautionary Fables & Fairytales series, and if the others are anything like this slim volume, they are treasures!
The Woman in the Woods is an excellent collection of Native American legends and stories from across North America. While the title of the series is Cautionary Fables & Fairytales, these are no gory, fright-filled stories. Instead, they read like the sort of tales you’d share around a campfire – a little bit of cultural history, a dash of tall tale, and an uncanny thing that happened to someone you know/one of your ancestors, etc. They range from a creation tale that deals with two spirit and trans identity to a diving encounter with a monstrous octopus on the sea floor of the Puget Sound.
While each chapter was written and illustrated by a different duo (and is handed down from/told according to different indigenous peoples and traditions), a universal theme running throughout all of them is acceptance of difference, the other, and the strangeness that is present in the world. A couple of the stories deal with some element of gender nonconformity, and others speak to a diverse understanding of how humans function in society. Some are teaching tales; some merely point to the unexplained and ask the reader to make of it what they will. Some aim to make the reader uncomfortable, or to challenge their disbelief.
The standout comic of the collection is the Métis story The Rougarou by Maija Ambrose Plamondon, illustrated by Milo Applejohn. This story’s length (a bit longer than the others included in the volume), gorgeously detailed line art, and theme of transformation all combine to create an exceptional entry. I will be keeping an eye on Plamondon & Applejohn’s work in the future!
The art throughout the volume is in black and white and styles vary from artist to artist. Several employ strong or thick line work and varying shades of gray and black for a feeling of heaviness and (at times) menace. While the standout is mentioned above, there was no weak link – the writing and art in the volume is strong all the way through.
In all, The Woman in the Woods is a varied anthology in terms of setting, societies, norms, and time periods. It’s an interesting collection, and an important one for libraries large and small!
Recommended for: fans of fables and fairy tales, especially those adapted into graphic novel format, anyone looking to diversify their shelves with more indigenous American literature, and readers ages 10+ who are interested in campfire tales they may not have heard before!...more
New, impeccably designed picture books that appeal to a discerning artistic eye AND to kiddos are sometimes hard to find. It’s my favorite sort of picNew, impeccably designed picture books that appeal to a discerning artistic eye AND to kiddos are sometimes hard to find. It’s my favorite sort of picture book to gift – not only to give my friends-who-are-parents a break, but also because as a child, I was fascinated most by the picture books that weren’t endlessly cheery cartoonish escapes, and instead had what felt like grown-up art, excellent use of negative space, and details to pore over read after reread. In case you too are looking for this sort of picture book, Princeton Architectural Press publishes several each year! And while I missed it when it came out in 2021, I’m happy to report that Camilla Pintonato’s Full Moon fits the mold beautifully.
I was immediately charmed by cover art featuring small gray rabbits wearing bright orange backpacks. If you were too, let me assure you: Pintonato’s story lives up to that first charming image. Created originally as a wordless picture book, and then published first in French and now in English, Full Moon is a nighttime adventure full of animals, mystery, and important questions – such as, “What are they carrying in their backpacks?” The answer to that includes forest shenanigans and lots of industrious bunnies, and is a fun, fresh flight of imagination.
In Full Moon, author-illustrator Pintonato taps into some enduring themes and visuals in children’s books: what happens when the world goes to sleep, the movement of the planets, the wonder of the natural world, and whimsical, personified animal societies. These will be familiar to little ones and adults alike from classic picture books such as Goodnight Moon. However, Pintonato puts her own spin on these themes with humor and illustrations full of vibrant color and detail. The rabbits are preparing for a big event, and they have many things to coordinate to make it happen! I think my favorite page was the one of the bunny with the orange flags, directing the start of the “show.”
The story would not have the same impact without Pintonato’s excellent art. When you first open the book, you’ll notice that the endpapers are illustrations of sunrise, and throughout several page spreads break from the busy world of the bunnies on the ground to look at the night sky above. This alternating focus slows the pacing down and makes it a perfect bedtime read. Pintonato’s fuzzy linework and varied colors feel reminiscent of the bleed of water-based markers and watercolors, but her illustrations are created completely in Photoshop. My brain wanted to say that it was all hand drawn, so I looked up that fact to confirm. After taking in the art, you might be similarly amazed!
In all, Full Moon is a delightful picture book about what animals might get up to after small children are tucked in bed. Its whimsical art is sure to appeal to both children and the adults reading aloud to them.
Recommended for: read alouds and storytimes, children ages 3 and up, and anyone who likes rabbits, parties, tales about the moon, and beautiful books that demand several rereads....more
I’m always on the lookout for graphic novels and books that will appeal to my students (9th and 11th graders). Often that means finding and reading noI’m always on the lookout for graphic novels and books that will appeal to my students (9th and 11th graders). Often that means finding and reading nonfiction, sports books, science books – things that aren’t necessarily in my own reading wheelhouse but would spark the interest of a kid who has given up on reading for pleasure. The upcoming young adult graphic novel Victory. Stand!: Raising My Fist for Justice by Tommie Smith, Derrick Barnes, and Dawud Anyabwile is just such a book. I’m so glad I took a moment to read it after Norton sent me a copy – I can tell that it will not only resonate with my students, but it is a fantastic text, and it meant a lot to me.
Tommie Smith is famous for a stand he took after accepting the gold medal for running and winning the 200 meters (and breaking the World Record) at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. That photo, of Smith’s and bronze medalist John Carlos’ fists raised in the sky on the Olympic podium, is an iconic protest image. But who is (and was) the man behind that gold medal? In Victory. Stand! Tommie Smith tells his life story for young adults: how he grew up as a sharecropper’s son in rural Texas, moved out to California with his family, focused on his education, gained cultural consciousness, how his sporting life proceeded, and eventually, how he ended up in that fateful race and made a stand for justice.
I’ve read Smith’s story before, and I remember being horrified at how his moment in the spotlight prompted almost 50 years of racist backlash – death threats, economic hardship (he was fired immediately and then had a hard time finding a job for years), and awful vitriol directed not just towards him, but towards every member of his family. Only in the last couple of decades has there been some softening into acceptance, appreciation, and acknowledgement of Smith’s legacy. The end of this book does not shy away from those hard truths – in concise terms, Smith details what a life of uncompromising morals and purpose may result in. He also makes a connection to others in the current spotlight or not-so-distant past who have stood up for what they believe is right, and faced the consequences.
As a graphic novel memoir, Victory. Stand! is tight, focused narrative told in linear format interspersed with flashbacks. The “present” is the race for Olympic gold, and the flashbacks are to Smith’s early childhood in Texas. There is a constant feeling of moving forward with purpose, and Smith’s connection to places and family share the focus for much of the story. It’s a gripping tale, and one with excellent: pacing, mix of dialogue and narration, and artwork. The full package, if you will.
Speaking of artwork, Dawud Anyabwile’s black and white linework and art is exceptional. Each panel is considered, framed for effect, and contains gradations of black and white that make the scene pop. In the action moments, there’s a palpable sense of movement and focus, and the use of shadow and lighting that merge with the text to tell a story. A variety of the panel sizes keep the reader’s eye moving. While there is quite a bit of text on the page, it the book never feels text-heavy – it is just right: balanced, moving, and electric.
In all, Victory. Stand! is a standout graphic memoir. I can’t wait to put it in kids’ hands. I think Tommie’s message will resonate with not only those who remember the Olympic moment, but also folks learning about it now, and those with eyes and hearts open to the world today.
Recommended for: readers ages 10 and up, fans of American history, graphic novels, and sports, and anyone interested in learning how to use their unique talents to be a better person in the world. ...more
I had a heck of a week last week. A list of things that happened: the first four days of the school year, a traffic ticket & car trouble, a stolen walI had a heck of a week last week. A list of things that happened: the first four days of the school year, a traffic ticket & car trouble, a stolen wallet, a lunch left in a ride share car, a trip to Iowa, and a general feeling of possibly being cursed? So in the midst of it all I obviously bought a book I had barely heard of before in an airport bookstore and read it in the space of the weekend. Emma Seckel’s The Wild Hunt is a haunting and harrowing historical adult fantasy, and it was an excellent escape from the world.
Leigh Welles is accustomed to loss—her mother disappeared into the sea when she was ten and never came back, her brother left for university soon afterward and then disappeared into the Second World War and never sailed back home, she lost her own big city dreams in the slog of trying to make it on the post-war mainland, and now she’s finally returned because her father fell and drowned, and there’s a funeral to attend and a discarded life to shake the dust off of and return to. Put all that together with the fact that on their remote Scottish island, something uncanny happens in October, and you have the setting for The Wild Hunt. How the next month plays out—the unrest and cruelty of the sluagh (spirits who take the form of crows and only appear in October) will either make or break the island, and Leigh and those she loves will be closest to it all.
This book does a lot: it is a post-war imagining, both pastoral and historical. It is also speculative and literary, and dips into horror in places as well. It succeeds as a narrative because of the pervasive atmosphere Seckel creates within its covers. There’s an overarching heaviness and darkness in Seckel’s tale, a countdown sounding in ominous bass notes in the background, the unbearable weight of history and at the same time tradition and superstition knocking up against the modern world. There’s a sense of isolation that butts up against belonging, and cloying despair battling it out with small moments of hope. I found it fascinating, but I like a slow build and excessive world building. The gathering unrest of it all—contained, quiet, and devastating, did not feel fully resolved, but it did feel fitting. If you like stories that slowly sink their claws into your psyche and leave small openings for what may come next, you’ll like this book.
As mentioned above, loss colors much of the narrative, and no one’s loss seems more personal or immediate than Leigh’s…until you meet the wreck that is Iain MacTavish, slowly sinking in a sea of guilt over death — those island boys lost in the war, a wife lost in the Blitz, and survivors carried away in senseless post-war slaughter, both memory- and sluagh-caused. Seckel skillfully interweaves Leigh and Iain’s voices, dreams, pieces of the past (long-gone and near), and other villagers’ perspectives to create a poignant whole. The characterization rests against a foggy and indistinct background, on some small Scottish isle — never positively identified by name but described in eerie detail. Aside from loss, the most immediate themes are the futility of war, legend and myth crossing over into reality, and community identity. The fact that this story is not easily categorized, but still succeeds, is a credit to Seckel’s writing ability: neither spare nor overblown, and careful in its urgency and construction.
In all, The Wild Hunt is convincing and emotion-laden. It’s a trip straight into the past, into the liminal spaces between worlds, and to an island held in the malevolent spell of mysterious creatures and too-present grief.
Recommended for: fantasy fans who enjoy a dark fantasy/horror vibe, readers who think mythology-meets-post-war-despair sounds intriguing, those who enjoy bird-based horror and myth, and anyone (quite rightly!) obsessed with Scottish coastline, expertly and lovingly described. ...more
As an English teacher now, and a book blogger of longer standing, I am asked quite often for book recommendations. If someone wants science fiction, IAs an English teacher now, and a book blogger of longer standing, I am asked quite often for book recommendations. If someone wants science fiction, I nearly always steer them towards Nnedi Okorafor. Her stories are inventive and deeply interesting, and novella Remote Control is no exception. It is a concise, layered, and wondrous mystery.
A young girl mysteriously glows with a green, killing light, can stop a bullet, and is widely feared – this is how Remote Control begins. Author Okorafor spends the rest of the story unraveling just how Sankofa became this creature of legend. How can she emit and evade death all at once? What about the uncanny red fox Movenpick who follows her everywhere? Does the ever-present and ominous corporation LifeGen have something to do with her powers? Or the mysterious glowing green that came from the sky when she was small?
Remote Control is a masterful, open-ended tale, rich in imagery and allusions, history and the future, natural world and the human-constructed one – and it is also a science fiction puzzle. Sankofa knows little about why and how she came to be who she is, and this guides the storytelling structure. Also unavoidable are tragedy, sorrow, and close encounters with fear and violence – some of the byproducts and antecedents of death. As she wanders Ghana on foot, first in a chase and then in avoidance, Sankofa studies human nature, even as she is held apart from it. Sankofa’s musings are perhaps best represented by this quote, from pages 112-113:
“…people were complicated. They wore masks and guises to protect or hide their real selves. They re-invented themselves. They destroyed themselves. They built on themselves.”
Okorafor’s tale is not especially kind to humanity, nor to those who find themselves with money and power – it is interested in how we treat those on the margins, and perhaps those who choose to unplug from the digital detritus of modern life. It also feels – in a very distant way – like a riff on the Superman mythos, if the only thing you knew about it was that the mysterious object that emits green light kills him.
In all, Remote Control imagines a weird, haunting, and visceral future where perhaps alien contact has mingled with the mythos of the harbinger of death, and a young girl has been caught in the crosshairs.
Recommended for: fans of Okorafor’s Binti, those on the lookout for original science fiction, and anyone looking for adult sci-fi and fantasy with YA crossover appeal....more
I am happy to report that Becky Chambers’ latest novella in the Monk & Robot series – A Prayer for the Crown-Shy – is just as affirming, emotionally cI am happy to report that Becky Chambers’ latest novella in the Monk & Robot series – A Prayer for the Crown-Shy – is just as affirming, emotionally complex, and thought-provoking as its predecessor, A Psalm for the Wild-Built. There’s more musing on the place of humans in community, as well as the essential nature of ecosystems, and the human place in them, but just as much love and belief. It’s a gem.
I called the first novella in this series a post-apocalyptic utopia, and I stand by that description. This is the story of two beings (one a tea monk, the other a robot, a remnant of an older, crueler time) wandering a world where humans have figured out their needs, how to meet them, and how to live sustainably within their natural habitat in the meantime. It’s a lovely place to escape into and imagine. Of course, as with any place (even a fictional universe!) where there are humans, there are a few more complexities. Sibling Dex, the tea monk, describes how their society functions without capitalism, and what they see as their individual role in the world – and how they are not fitting into it now. This internal unrest contrasts with visits to various people groups as Dex and Mosscap traverse Panga’s inhabited areas.
In this second volume in the series, Chambers spends less time describing small human comforts and wonders. Crown-Shy’s focus is instead more philosophical, as the robot half of the duo asks his essential question (What do humans need?) to the people they meet on the road. When not meeting people, Mosscap is obsessed with new trees, reading, and learning about the variety of ways that humans live in and interact with the world. As befits a creature who has existed only in the wild to this point, Mosscap focuses on mundanities and mysteries that most (including Dex) would bypass, or consider scenery, or leave unknown. The result is a volume that feels deeply rooted in nature, in harmony, and in a very human puzzling about purpose, loneliness, and unpacking our feelings.
A Prayer for the Crown-Shy is, quite simply, a joy. I hope for more in the series, but am grateful for these two slim volumes if that is all there is. Chambers has managed to create a feeling of contentment in book form – both titles in the series are lovely and heart-warming reads, especially for these restless times.
Recommended for: fans of Martha Wells’ Murderbot series and first-class science fiction and fantasy, and anyone who likes quiet, thoughtful, character-driven reading. ...more
I didn’t need to read further than the title to know that A Land of Books: Dreams of Young Mexicuh Word Painters was for me! But then of course there I didn’t need to read further than the title to know that A Land of Books: Dreams of Young Mexicuh Word Painters was for me! But then of course there was also author-illustrator Duncan Tonatiuh’s art style (distinctive and an homage to his homeland’s cultural history) to add to the allure as well. I loved Tonatiuh’s picture book The Princess and the Warrior, and I keep his graphic novel Undocumented, on undocumented immigrants and labor organizing, in my classroom library. What more perfect title to feature on Indigenous Peoples’ Day than one that celebrates their contributions to culture, bookmaking, and storytelling!
A Land of Books begins with an unnamed storyteller sharing who makes amoxtin (books), how they are made, how tlahcuilohqueh (bookmakers) are trained, the types of materials and dyes they use, and who has access to and can read books. Then the book transitions into a dream sequence, telling a creation/origin story, and ends with an example of the type of celebration where books and bookmaking were featured in pre-Spanish Conquest Mesoamerican cultures.
The pictographs used in amoxtin (or codices, as they are referred to today) are a major focus of the story, and the illustrations throughout mimic them or use them directly. Small children familiar with the rhythm and ritual of reading aloud will likely find the circumstances of when and where certain books were read (or sung!) draw their attention, along with the 2D art. Readers of all ages will likely start trying to decode the pictographs!
As you can likely tell from the language in this review, Nahuatl (a living language today!) is included within the book, and most of it can be decoded while reading from context clues and the illustrations. Tonatiuh has included a glossary at the back with a pronunciation guide and definitions if you want to brush up before reading aloud. There’s also an excellent, extensive author’s note, bibliography, and website where you can view the few historical codices that survived Spanish colonization.
In a picture book about making books, the illustrations are of particular interest. Tonatiuh’s images are hand-drawn, and then collaged digitally. He specializes in flat, two-dimensional illustrations, with figures who are always in profile, and not always in proportion. Color also holds specific meaning. All of these elements are based on the artwork of the amoxtin/codices, which Tonatiuh touches on in the story as well.
In all, A Land of Books is a book to be treasured – it not only tells the story of how books were made in pre-conquest Central America, but it will also likely inspire a new generation of bookmakers, researchers, and questioners.
Recommended for: anyone interested in bookmaking, indigenous histories and culture, book lovers young and old, and storytimes with curious young ones....more
I love graphic novels. They are fun to look at, quick reads, and for my students, they are accessible texts. You don’t have to be the strongest readerI love graphic novels. They are fun to look at, quick reads, and for my students, they are accessible texts. You don’t have to be the strongest reader in the class to get something out of the story in a graphic novel. I have a poster in my classroom that looks like lines on a chalkboard, with the words “AUDIOBOOKS ARE NOT CHEATING” listed over and over. I wish I had one for graphic novels too! Anyway, all that to say, I pick up graphic novels whenever I can, and my latest read was Camille Jourdy’s The Wondrous Wonders, translated by Montana Kane. It is a whimsical and funny portal fantasy for the middle grade set.
Young Jo is unhappy with her parents’ divorce and her new stepfamily, and so she runs away to the woods one day. What she finds there is unexpected – a whole world peopled with elves, talking animals, a dastardly Emperor Tomcat, and Wondrous Wonders: beautiful wild horses (ponies?) in all colors. Jo almost immediately joins a rescue mission with her new friends. On this adventure, she meets characters (and I do mean characters) who speak bits of wisdom to her, mock her, and make ridiculous asides. It’s a fun and funny – but the lingering question remains – where will the adventure end?
When I first heard about this title, my attention was caught by the beautiful watercolor artwork, and the phrase “offbeat humor.” I have complicated feelings about that phrase regarding this title. It’s not strange or weird humor – it’s just adult? And I don’t mean that it’s inappropriate. There are simply all sorts of conversations going on around Jo that don’t involve her. And they’re funny! As a child reading this book, the jokes might or might not make sense, but it’s exactly the sort of language that children figure out by listening to adults talk to each other. I think it’s charming that Jo’s adventure, while fantastical, still has so many elements of “real life” in it. And Jo herself, a bit fractious and feral – but open to friendship – is like a lot of little kids I knew or know now.
I also appreciate that there’s no heavy-handed moral at the end of the story. Jo’s adventure is just that: a widening of perspective and trying something new, and if she learns a little bit from the characters she encounters, then good for her. But if she doesn’t, she wandered through a beautiful land, saw lots of weird things, and adapted well. There are themes of course, but they’re not overt, and some things Jourdy leaves the artwork to express best.
Speaking of the art! Jourdy’s panels are watercolor delights, rarely enclosed in black lines. The vibe is classic storybook-turned-graphic novel, and the text’s playful feeling manifests in many ways, including the costumes the characters wear: Maurice the fox in a creampuff suit and Pompom the dog in rainbow-striped boots, for instance. Lots of small panels, set in an ever-changing landscape, keep the adventure moving not only pacing-wise, but distance-wise as well.
The Wondrous Wonders is a delightful, quirky story that recalls Puss in Boots, The Princess Bride, and Alice in Wonderland all in one go. In other words, it’s got adventure, quips, antics, and a safe landing for its young readers. I enjoyed it!
Recommended for: graphic novel readers ages 8 and up, fantasy fans young and old, and anyone who liked Johan Troïanowski’s The Runaway Princess....more
I’ve attended School Library Journal’s Picture Book Palooza (held over the summer) twice now, and I am a big fan. I can attend during the day because I’ve attended School Library Journal’s Picture Book Palooza (held over the summer) twice now, and I am a big fan. I can attend during the day because it’s summer, and I find lots of beautiful picture books to share with friends and family for the holidays, and of course the blog! in the intervening months. I always have my eye out for beautiful illustrations, and that is what drew me to Jane Whittingham and Cinyee Chiu’s picture book Only the Trees Know.
The pages of Only the Trees Know are full of a Little Rabbit impatient for spring. He longs for soft grasses and friends (a bird flown south for winter and a squirrel in its den) to come back and play. When the Little Rabbit asks his parents when spring will come, they say “be patient.” Well! That is something neither small children nor Little Rabbits like being told! So Little Rabbit goes to his wise grandmother, and she advises him to ask the trees, because only they know. Thus, Little Rabbit begins an asking campaign. The trees don’t answer the first time, so Little Rabbit tries changing his physical presence, altering his listening skills, and being louder and trying different sounds. In the end, the trees provide their own signs and voice, and Little Rabbit learns to hear them.
Little Rabbit is of course an anthropomorphized figure – the stand-in for the child being read to, who might think the same way and ask the same sorts of questions about winter. It’s charming here, rather than false, and I think that is down to the author’s way with words. The text is poetic, especially on the opening page, and when describing snow and wind: with alliteration, personification, and repetition. Whittingham does not rhyme, but there are several poetic devices throughout. There’s child appeal not just in the art and cadence of the text, but in Little Rabbit’s jumping about, raising and lowering his voice, and trying different listening techniques.
Cinyee Chiu’s art is full of gorgeous brush strokes, and many shades of white and winter. I particularly liked the landscape spreads, with their imprecise snowflakes – they gave the impression of looking through the forest into the scene of the story. Chiu’s medium is gouache and pastel, finished in Photoshop. Chiu makes terrific use of perspective, from treetop height down, and from ground level up to the sky. The only thing about the book design I didn’t love? The title font. And that’s out of sight as soon as you turn a page.
In all, Only the Trees Know is a more active than meditative take on seasonal change, and the perfect book to share with a child impatient for sunny days and playgrounds once more.
Recommended for: fans of Over and Under the Snow, anyone looking for beautifully-illustrated picture books about the seasons, and for nondenominational winter storytimes....more
I had the pleasure of hearing Dan Yaccarino, author-illustrator of picture book- slash early reader-hybrid City Under the City, speak on a panel at PiI had the pleasure of hearing Dan Yaccarino, author-illustrator of picture book- slash early reader-hybrid City Under the City, speak on a panel at Picture Book Palooza last month. He and the other panelists had very interesting things to say about how they create images to go with picture book words – telling their stories through images as well as (or married to!) the author’s text. Yaccarino’s title is science fiction for very young readers, and its words AND images evoke a whole different world.
The people in Bix’s city are watched by the Eyes, who see, direct, and know all. Bix, unlike the rest of her family, does not like the help of the eyes, and tries to refuse their directions (this does not go well). One day she spots a rat and follows it through a crack and into… a hidden city below her own. There she sees many strange sights and learns to read books, which teach her about a great many things: history, music, art, animals, and friendship, for starters. She also lives by herself and cares for herself for the first time. But after a while, and a great deal of learning, Bix wants to go back to her family. What will happen next? Revolution!
With a premise that’s a cross between 1984 and The City of Ember, City Under the City takes some classic science fiction tropes and adapts them for young readers. While the idea of an AI surveillance state that controls humanity and doesn’t allow for noncompliance is a familiar storyline in modern media, it may be brand new for little ones just starting to read independently. Bix’s flight to an unknown world below, where mysteries abound and are unraveled, is another familiar premise – for adults. City Under the City has the potential to create and/or nurture the next generation of science fiction fans.
Yaccarino indicates full immersion in the worlds above and below through use of a limited color palette – purples and yellows for the world above, and deep orangey-red for the city below. He also includes allusions in his illustrations that adults will be sure to pick up on: distinctive landmarks, a very famous painting, etc. His style (ink on vellum, rendered digitally) relies on fluid linework in varying shades, architectural details, inventive use of perspective and lighting, and that limited color palette described above. The result is a picture book with: A) more to discover upon each re-read, and B) a deceptive simplicity with layers of meaning. It's also impeccably designed, with fun and unusual end papers and some page spreads that read like a graphic novel.
In all, City Under the City is simple enough for independent reading, but also complex enough (particularly with the help of images) for a science fiction premise. I loved the plot, the cheerful illustrations, and Bix’s can-do attitude. It is sure to delight readers young and old.
Recommended for: storytimes and independent reading for children ages 4-7, for anyone looking for unique picture books with distinctive plots and artwork, and for young science fiction and fantasy aficionados. ...more
I like gifting board books and picture books whenever I visit the children in my life – it is not-so-secretly my ambition to be remembered as that aunI like gifting board books and picture books whenever I visit the children in my life – it is not-so-secretly my ambition to be remembered as that aunt, the one who always gave interesting books! (and maybe also in some small way sparked a love of reading) I’ve noticed that at most baby showers and birthdays, folks give the same board books they cherished as children. And that’s lovely – who wouldn’t want to share the books they hold dear! I am a little paranoid, however, that I will copy the same book that someone else just gave, so I am ALWAYS, always on the lookout for standout board books to add to my gifting repertoire. Grace Helmer’s Kahlo's Koalas and Vickie Lee and Joey Chou’s upcoming One White Crane are two that I wholeheartedly recommend for art-appreciating parents and their little ones.
One White Crane is a bilingual (English and Mandarin) counting book that also teaches the months of the year, and colors as well! Given the twelve months, the count goes up to 12, and there are 12 different animals. The gorgeous Charlie Harper-esque geometric art is featured on each left facing page, and text in English and Mandarin on the right. It is a simple, effective, and quite frankly, beautifully designed book – even if you don’t speak Mandarin and don’t intend to learn! I enjoy gifting bilingual books to children even when their parents don’t speak both languages because any language exposure is good exposure, but this could be a fun way for parents and children to learn side-by-side, or for bilingual parents and families to share their language culture together with their children.
In all, One White Crane is a delightfully simple board book with beautiful art and a lot of learning potential....more
I don’t want to admit it quite yet, but the end of summer is almost here… and I’m still thinking about all the books I meant to read over the summer. I don’t want to admit it quite yet, but the end of summer is almost here… and I’m still thinking about all the books I meant to read over the summer. I was very ambitious, and I haven’t finished enough of them, but I’m an incurable book collector – it’s a law of the universe. Speaking of universes, Cecil Castellucci, Flavia Biondi, and Fabiana Mascolo’s new sci-fi graphic novel Shifting Earth imagines our own future world ravaged by climate change contrasted with a mirror universe where the population works together in astonishing ways, but cannot completely escape human darkness.
In Shifting Earth, botanist Maeve is frustrated and, in some ways, hopeless – humanity has wrecked her near-future planet, and she’s struggling to preserve wild seed varieties to find something that will help humanity survive growing plagues and devastation. When she connects with an old friend at a conference, he urges her to come see his work, and this leads eventually to Maeve’s landing on an alternate earth with two moons and very different problems. On this other earth, usefulness is the true measure of value, and astronomer and scientist’s Zuzi’s work has been deemed useless. Maeve’s arrival unsettles Zuzi’s utopian-esque world in new ways, and it will take the effort and will of many to unravel what happened, and how to send Maeve back home.
I liked that this graphic novel asked some big questions in a fairly short volume. What is the good life? How do we create it for ourselves and generations to come? How do we preserve what we have and remain adaptable and open to the future and change? All of these are good questions, and Castellucci’s story not only poses them, but tries to begin answering them through Maeve and Zuzi’s intertwined narrative as well. I also liked that a variety of relationship dynamics were portrayed in the story, and the déjà vu interactions between Maeve and the alternate universe versions of her loved ones and friends.
One thing I had complicated feelings about: *spoiler alert* the forced birth plotline. *end spoiler* I also didn’t feel as invested in Zuzi’s portion of the story – perhaps partially because the stakes did not seem high until later in the narrative. It felt as though she and her partner did not get as much page time as Maeve & co. The stars of this story are the premise (getting sucked into an alternate universe: COOL!) and the climate change urgency driving the plot forward. The conclusion is meant to be a stunner but is weakened by neatly-tied resolution on one hand, and a sort of blank, unknowingness on another. After thrilling build-up, I felt unsatisfied.
Let’s talk the art, an ever-important part of any graphic novel experience! Biondi’s creativity comes through – especially in the depiction and imagination of what the shifting particles scenes that transport a character from one universe to another might look like, and in the visual conception of alternate earth. The art reminded me of the clean, professional lines of the Saga series, and it’s clearly created for the discerning adult comics reading fan. The palette contains a lot of earth tones (apropos for an earth-y story, ha ha) and what I call muted brights – colors that would be vivid at full contrast but are darkened or muted a bit.
In all, Shifting Earth is a thought-provoking science fiction graphic novel about climate change, alternate universes, and the essential humanity that ties us together, for good and bad.
Recommended for: fans of science-heavy science fiction and inventive adult graphic novels....more
The art is the first thing I notice when I pick up a graphic novel. I know this isn’t groundbreaking, but stay with me. If the art appeals, I am sold The art is the first thing I notice when I pick up a graphic novel. I know this isn’t groundbreaking, but stay with me. If the art appeals, I am sold on reading the story. I have a particular weakness for detailed linework and innovative use of perspectives, and Sourya’s young adult graphic novel Talli: Daughter of the Moon, translated by François Vigneault, has these in spades. Ergo, I was interested immediately in its classic adventure story, set in a fantastical medieval past.
Title character Talli (or Lady Talli to you, commoner!) is a girl with mysterious antecedents, distinctive hair and jewelry (think Sailor Moon, but medieval), and a history of being locked up in her adoptive father’s castle for her own good. When other nobles sniff out her powers (?!), she must flee before they capture her. On the way, she amasses a crew made up of a loyal-but-dim knight, an oddball merchant with an uncanny nose for treasures, and a young boy with excellent sword skills. Will they be able to evade the special brigade? Will Lady Talli’s past and powers be revealed? Read to find out!
As with the first in any series, there is a lot of exposition in this volume, though it is broken up by fight scenes as various people discover that Talli is on the run and try to capture her for profit. Talli herself doesn’t know her past or the extent of her powers, and doesn’t say or do a lot (aka doesn’t have agency) for the first three quarters of the volume. I realize that this is the first in a series, but it doesn’t quite coalesce until the final few pages. Talli’s band are in a rush to make it to asylum in a foreign land, and they respond more to the fight others bring to them than anything else.
Unfortunately, the dialogue does not flow easily in parts, and it seems as though some humor is lost (in translation? unclear) as well. There’s also a creepy bit about Summoner powers manifesting during menstruation that feels gender essentialist and like a throwback to fantasy stories from 30-40 years ago. To be clear, I don’t think menstruation is creepy, but I am wary of how it will be treated in the narrative, since it is tied to Summoner magic. Menstruation = calling monsters into being? Seems like a bad formula! But what do I know.
Let’s get back to positives, aka the art! Sourya’s illustrations are exquisite: black linework on white pages in pen and ink, with lots of heavy lines, fine cross-hatching, and finer details around the characters' faces. The art was penciled digitally, and hand-inked on paper, which the artist demonstrates in a mini "The Making of Talli" comic in the backmatter. There are a wide variety of perspectives (many aerial views), and several panels focus not only on the characters, but a sense of the land and landscape that feels video game-inspired. It is truly beautiful, and I am just as much a fan of the art as I was at the start!
In all, Talli: Daughter of the Moon is an adventure story with some promise. Volume 1 lags in parts, but fans of sword fights, daring escapes, and a video game-crossed-with-manga aesthetic will love it.
Recommended for: fans of historical fantasy graphic novels and manga, and anyone who likes to play video or computer games set in medieval Europe or a quasi-medieval setting. ...more
I heard lovely things about Harmony Becker’s young adult graphic novel Himawari House all last year, and that lead me to put it on my Christmas wishliI heard lovely things about Harmony Becker’s young adult graphic novel Himawari House all last year, and that lead me to put it on my Christmas wishlist. If you’re wondering, yes, my wishlist each year is mostly comprised of books (with some music & baking implements sprinkled in here and there). My sister and I spent the holiday together, and she gifted me my very own copy – which has been waiting patiently for the end of the school year, and more time and headspace to read. I read it last week and absolutely loved it.
Nao was born in Japan, but moved to America as a young child and lost most of her Japanese language skills. For a gap year between high school and college she moves to Japan to take language lessons and reconnect with her extended family and culture. In Himawari House, her home base for the year, she’ll connect with housemates Hyejung and Tina (from Korea and Singapore, respectively), and Japanese brothers Shinsan and Masaki. The girls bond immediately over shared food, Japanese language school, and exchange student experiences. Following the occupants of Himawari House as they experience various coming of age moments is both bittersweet and a vivid reminder (or reflection, depending on the age of the reader) of the trials of surviving your late teenage years and early twenties. Becker’s text lovingly explores the depths of each character and their emotions, and combined with manga-style illustrations, has created a standout graphic novel.
I know others have said this in reviews, but Himawari House authentically captures what it is like to study abroad, and the range of experiences you might have as someone who doesn’t know the primary language of the place you are living in. That true-to-life feeling of confusion, excitement, only catching half of a conversation, and muddling through while your brain is working overdrive hit my memories and heart hard. It also made me an instant fan of the inhabitants of Himawari House and author-artist Becker.
Favorite bits: elderly neighbor Baachan, who is lonely now that her husband has passed away, and makes the young crew of Himawari House a delicious dinner. And I loved Nao’s time with her family and flashbacks to her childhood, and the funny little side illustrations (not true panels) that show characters’ emotions – freaking out over something a girl or boy said, internal thoughts, etc. I also enjoyed the musing on food, the moments of introspection followed by group activities and fellow-feeling, the expressions of the characters – basically, I liked it all a whole lot!!
As mentioned above, Becker's style has a distinct manga flavor, and the backmatter of the book indicates that her black and white art was all completed digitally in Clip Studio Paint. I was impressed by the variety of textures that contribute to the scenes – the linework is excellent, and it makes small details in the setting, and facial expressions especially, pop. In addition, the lettering is done in whatever language is spoken on-page, and translated below in English if the character understands. This means that sometimes there are whole parts of conversations that the character, and thus the reader, just don’t get. Decisions and pieces like these feel the most representative of a real life language learning situation.
In all, Himawari House is a note-perfect rendering of what studying abroad/leaving the nest/entering adulthood feels like. It’s a sensitive, funny, and sweet ode to cultural and linguistic confusion, friendship, and finding oneself.
Recommended for: fans of Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me, contemporary graphic novel readers, and anyone who likes quiet fiction that speaks to the heart....more
As a reader I prefer standalone books, but it can be a little harder to keep track of an author if you don’t have the easy classification of a series As a reader I prefer standalone books, but it can be a little harder to keep track of an author if you don’t have the easy classification of a series to follow. One new-to-me author from a couple of years ago, whom I loved (and was determined to follow!) was Reimena Yee. Her newest middle grade graphic novel, My Aunt is a Monster, is not directly related to her debut, Séance Tea Party – which I enjoyed very much – but it has some of the same fantastical charm (and of course Reimena’s whimsical storytelling and artistic style!).
Safia Haziz, a blind girl who dreams of visiting the far-off places in the audiobooks she reads, once had a happy family. When tragedy struck, she was placed with her mysterious Aunt Whimsy, a famous (retired) adventurer – who happens to have a monstrous secret. Safia finally gets her chance to travel when Aunt Whimsy discovers that her rival rediscovered her discovery (yes, that’s a mouthful), and they set off to protect the world from secrets that should remain hidden. Along the way, Safia will make a friend, Aunt Whimsy must confront her nature and stop running away from the world, and everyone must unite and use their strengths to save the day!
Things I loved: the disability representation in the book, Yee’s humor (look no farther than the family pet Lord Fauntleroy, an invisible animal no one can identify), and the variety of texts within the text: newspaper clippings, magazine covers and articles, maps, etc. I also appreciated Yee’s inclusion of a complicated friendship – one where the characters do not know everything about each other, but connect and want good things for each other anyway. Also, the charming and ridiculous institutions in the story made me smile every time – who wouldn’t, with names like the Bureau of Suspicious Intent (mission: sow chaos) and the Institute of Extremely Found Things in Lost History.
I also loved that there’s a Cecilia in the story, even if she was Pineapple Tart (so-named for her favorite dessert), Aunt Whimsy’s nemesis! Aunt Whimsy’s inventive wardrobe choices made me want to stock up on flowy blouses, tailored slacks, and neckties of all shapes and sizes. One thing I found especially sweet was that both an adult AND a child had a lesson to learn in this story – a good reminder that we are all on a lifelong learning journey.
Reimena Yee’s art is a delightful mix of thickly drawn lines and bright colors without shadows, which give the comic a 2D, classic storybook feel. This feels just right for the intended audience’s age range and tastes, but it’s fun to take in as an adult, too. There’s nothing muted about this book! Yee draws and colors her art online (except for thumbnailing), and shares a fun and informational look at her process and timeline for creating a graphic novel in the backmatter, which will interest aspiring artists.
In all, My Aunt is a Monster is FUN, silly, pretty, and a breath of fresh air. I’ve never read a graphic novel quite like it!
Recommended for: middle grade graphic novel readers, fans of fantastical stories, and anyone with a large imagination and a hankering to explore the unknown....more
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